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rebelfell · 7 months

Text

bells will be ringing

crush!steve harrington x fem!reader x fwb!eddie munson

The annual Harrington Christmas Party is an elegant affair, complete with decorations, fancy food and flowing libations. But when your friend-slash-fuck buddy Eddie tires of you and Steve dancing around your burgeoning feelings for one another…he offers a creative solution.

Part One┃Part Two

18+, MDNI 8k

cw: MMF, allusions to poverty and implied family strife, light alcohol and weed use, kinda mean/crass Eddie, semi-public fingering/oral (f receiving), r’s hair gets pulled once.

The Harrington’s were white light people.

There wasn’t a single inch of their stately home not adorned in festive finery for their annual Christmas party. It was all silver candlesticks with cream-colored tapers, deep red ribbons tied into bows and hung at perfectly spaced intervals, long garlands of rich greenery draped along the banisters—real as shit and smelling like a goddamn pine forest.

It was a far cry from what you and Eddie knew growing up next door to one another way on the other side of town. For you two, it was scrawny and half-dead trees purchased at a discount as close to Christmas as possible when their vendors were just trying to unload them, covered in a hodgepodge of homemade ornaments and faded multicolored lights, only about half of which worked half the time. When your families could afford a tree, that was.

The Harringtons’ own stood at the far end of the house, glowing bright as a nuclear reactor with seemingly endless strands of bright white lights wound around its branches. It was methodically decorated with matching red, silver and gold baubles, each one hung precisely in place and polished to gleaming perfection.

Elegant. Proper. Pristine.

The party was already well underway by the time you arrived, Steve nowhere to be found in the sea of people. They all stood together in clumps, exchanging jovial smiles that pushed up rosy cheeks, the women cooing over each other's outfits and jewelry while the men swapped stories about their quarterly earnings. Weaving through the throngs, cater waiters floated past carrying trays loaded with hors d’oeuvres and tall glasses of shimmery, bubbly liquid.

It made you and Eddie glance around, furtive and unsure as you skulked into the foyer. The two of you might as well have been invisible for all the attention anyone paid you.

“See Steve anywhere?” you asked, peering deeper inside the house.

The former stud of Hawkins High had always been easy to spot in the hallways of his former domain, seemingly towering over everyone even after he stopped sporting that gravity-defying bouffant hairstyle. Those days were long gone now, but an occasional glimmer of his old self would still shine through, reminding you of when King Steve reigned supreme.

“Nope, nowhere,” Eddie grumbled. “I told you this was a mistake.”

His warm breath on your ear as he leaned in to whisper in it had your head snapping to the side. Some of the snow that had just started to fall outside dusted his dark, unruly curls and he still had his hands stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket, as though he wanted to be ready to turn heel and run at the first opportunity. You’d seen him look more relaxed about to shoplift.

“What do you mean?”

“Look around, sweetheart. See if you can spot what doesn’t belong.”

It was kind of irritating how right he was. Everyone else in attendance tonight looked perfectly at home in this pretty picture. It was all business partners and their wives, clients who probably made more in a year than you or Eddie would hope to see in your entire lifetime, other miscellaneous friends and fellow members of the Hawkins upper echelon.

To call you fish out of water would be putting it lightly. You were like fish on a space station.

“What were we supposed to do?” you whispered back. “We had to come.”

That was debatable. Steve had invited you, yes, but he also practically tripped over himself to assure you it was totally fine if you couldn’t make it. He’d sat on the edge of Eddie’s sofa running through all his most blatant tells—hands pushing through his hair, thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose, foot jiggling non-stop—as he told you about the party.

“It’s all my parents' friends, so it might be kind of lame. But I’m allowed to invite people if you guys want to come. It’d be really great to see you.”

He’d worked himself up into such a state, it almost felt cruel to say no. You weren’t sure what it was—something about the earnestness with which he asked, and the way his eyes shone so hopefully when you smiled and told him you thought it sounded like fun.

Eddie’s gruff voice sounded in your ear again.

“Think we’re just here to piss off daddy?”

You followed his eyeline to the living room, gaze promptly drawn to the imposing frame of John Harrington as he reached out to grip the hand of someone important. Or at least someone who seemed to think they were. Even never having seen or met him before, he was easy to pick out as Steve’s father. They had the same square jaw, the same perfectly angled nose and rich, light brown hair. Although, John’s was cut shorter and tamed into a much more manageable style than his son’s long locks that lived in a near-constant state of tousled messiness.

“Steve wouldn’t do that,” you said firmly. “He asked us to come because we’re his friends.”

The words still felt strange to say. It made you wonder, yet again, if it would ever stop feeling so surreal that you now hung out with Steve “The Hair” Harrington on an almost daily basis.

When you were in school together, you never even landed on his radar. Eddie had some notoriety as the town’s supposed demon summoner, but you were just…around. A plain face that blended into the crowd; a background extra with no lines in the scene; wallpaper and set dressing for the popular kids who were living out their exemplary lives.

If this was only a few years prior, he probably would be spending this evening sneaking drinks with Tommy H. and Carol, or parading around with Nancy Wheeler on his arm to show her off to all his dad’s colleagues and brag about her getting into Emerson. Instead, his falling out with all of them and his subsequent fall from his high-school throne had led him here—to an unlikely friendship with The Freak and The Invisible Girl.

Whenever he came over to Eddie’s to smoke, or you three piled into his car to go to the movies or drive the winding back roads that snaked along the edge of town, it almost felt natural. And the more time you spent with him, the harder and harder it became to remember why he’d always seemed so…untouchable.

“So, what should we do?” You wondered aloud as you glanced around again, still hoping Steve might materialize somehow. Behind you, Eddie’s head shook and his shoulders shrugged.

“How should I know? You were the one begging to come tonight.”

“I wasn’t begging.”

“Oh, really?” He scoffed as he leaned in close again, raising the pitch of his voice in an overly breathy imitation of you. “Please, Eddie? Please, can we go to the party? I’ll let you eat me out from the back if you—”

“Stifle,” you hissed, jamming your elbow into his stomach.

He grunted at the sharp jab, but his lips remained curled in a sly smirk. “What’s wrong? Worried your little crush will find out what I’ve been doing to you after he goes home?”

“I don’t care if he knows,” you sniped. It’s almost convincing, but the flash of alarm in your eyes told a different story. Not that it mattered, Eddie didn’t buy it for a second anyway.

“Well, that’s good,” he tutted. “Because he already knows we’ve fucked.”

“Wait, what?” You whirled around fully now. “How?”

“He, ahh…” Eddie fought to contain his grin as he scratched at the short stubble on his cheek. “He saw that picture you let me take.”

Your eyes went wide, both horrified and enraged as you shoved his shoulder—hard.

“You showed it to him?”

“No, he found it,” Eddie hissed. “We were looking around for some weed I had stashed and he happened to open the drawer it was in.”

Your whole body—your very being—surged with white hot shame. If it wouldn’t have given Eddie so much satisfaction, you might have run straight out of the party right then and there. The thought of Steve seeing you like that…

It was almost unbearable.

The details of you and Eddie’s attachment had always been strictly under wraps. You weren’t exactly keeping it a secret, per se, but most people weren’t super accepting of the idea and you’d learned to play it close to the vest. And with how much time the two of you had started spending with Steve, you didn’t want to risk making him uncomfortable.

It had been going on for ages. Pausing, albeit briefly, if one of you found yourself in a relationship, and picking right back up when said relationship inevitably fizzled or if it tipped into the dangerous territory of getting too serious. He was one of the few people in your life you trusted intrinsically, and it wasn’t like guys were banging down your door as it was.

The picture was a one-time thing—a polaroid you’d let Eddie snap as a belated birthday present because you’d been too busy to find him something real. You had made him swear upon pain of death it was for his eyes only. And now he’d shown it to the last person on earth you wanted to see it? Oh, you were going to garrotte him with tinsel in his sleep.

Also, Steve wasn’t your crush. He was…a preoccupation. A distraction. A vague interest.

You couldn’t even say for sure when it had begun. All you knew was just last spring, there was a month of Friday evenings where you found yourself back in the Hawkins High parking lot pulled in alongside Steve’s distinctive maroon beemer. He was leaning on the hood, waiting for Hellfire to let out so he could drive home his little horde of nuggets, and you had shown up acting as Eddie’s ride while his van was out of commission.

And that night, for the first time ever, you had a real conversation with Steve Harrington.

A fairly illuminating one, at that.

There was a sweetness to him you never would have guessed was there. And a dorkiness that brought light to his eyes when he did his elaborate handshake with Dustin Henderson, or the way he exalted along with the kids when the group burst through the double doors leading out of the school, whooping and cheering from a successful campaign. It warmed your whole body from the inside out, the feeling only growing stronger the more time you shared.

And now he’d seen your bare tits covered in Eddies cum. Perfect, just perfect.

“You’re such an asshole,” you muttered through gritted teeth. “That’s so humiliating.”

“I don’t know,” Eddie said, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I think he kinda liked it.”

“He…he did?”

“I mean, he was staring at it pretty hard. I think he needed some alone time with it.”

You rolled your eyes and gave his shoulder another shove for good measure, muttering a you're disgusting at him under your breath, hoping it would hide the nerves creeping across your face. Unfortunately, it only seemed to add fuel to Eddie’s fire. He leaned in one last time, his voice a gritty rasp in your ear that made shivers run down your spine.

“So you don’t wanna know what he said, then?”

Tension seized your shoulders as you glared at him, jaw clenched, ready to spit back a vicious comment—or maybe just spit—only to stop short at the sound of a familiar voice.

“Hey, guys! I’m so glad you made it!”

Steve was beaming as he came over, his bright hazel eyes shining, the golden flecks in them brought out by the color of his sweater. He drew you into his embrace, his strong arms curling securely around your body and his gourmand scent filling your nose as you breathed him in.

Your hands smoothed over the planes of his back, relishing in the softness of the knit he wore and the solidity of his broad chest pressed against yours. Your pulse quickened, blood pounding in your ears as you did your level best to force what Eddie had just told you out of your head.

“I’m the coat check tonight,” Steve explained, tipping an imaginary cap. “There’s a guest room upstairs we can put them in.”

“I gotta take a leak,” Eddie said, already shrugging off his leather jacket and pushing it into your arms. “Take care of that for me, will you sweetheart?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but Eddie just grinned back at you with a suggestive bounce of his brows behind his curled bangs. Steve pointed him in the direction of the bathroom and then turned straight back to you as he tilted his head upstairs.

“Shall we?” he asked.

The sounds of the party became distant and muffled as Steve led you upstairs to the designated dumping ground for all the furs and wraps of the numerous guests. It was dark inside, lit only by the moonlight that streamed through the window and the warm glow of the lights strung on the outside of the house that cast across the heap of coats on the bed.

You laid Eddie’s jacket down on a chair in the corner before you began to undo the belt of your own tied around your waist. As the thick, gray poly-blend slid off your shoulders, you shivered at the cool air hitting your heated skin for the first time that night.

When you turned back around, Steve was much closer than you remembered.

His eyes studied you with a kind of reverence that made your body tingle with excitement in a way you didn’t dare to name. The way he looked at you sometimes…whether it through a haze of pot smoke in Eddie’s trailer, or in the flickering light of a screen at the multiplex, or beneath the harsh amber wash of a single streetlight in an empty parking lot…

It made you wonder.

“You look really nice,” he finally said, his voice as soft as his eyes.

The dress you’d worn was fairly simple, made of maroon velour with a burnout pattern of leaves you thought looked a bit like holly. It was loose and flowy, but had laces in the back you had pulled tight so it cinched in your waist and pushed up your chest, not unlike a corset. The neckline was just low enough to flirt with impropriety and it nicely complimented the length of the pendant that sat in the center of your clavicle.

A dainty (fake) gold snowflake you thought was festive.

“Thanks,” you replied, your voice even softer than his as you folded your arms in front of your stomach. “I hope it’s okay. I don’t have a lot of nice outfits.”

Steve shook his head, captivated eyes still scanning over you. They landed briefly on your legs, the black stockings you’d worn in an attempt to stave off the cold now prickling warm on your skin as if it was his hands running over them instead of just his gaze.

“You always look perfect,” he said.

It’s not just the words that made you falter, but the plainness with which he states them. As if it’s something obvious. As though he thinks it all the time and he just happened to say it this time. It makes your stomach twirl and all at once, you feel like an empty-headed teenager standing at her locker, dizzy from being complimented by the cutest boy in school.

“So, this is quite a spectacle,” you chuckled, glad for the dimness of the room that somewhat hid your reaction to him. “Are there any poinsettias left in Hawkins?”

Steve smirked and took a careful step forward. There was only about a foot of space between you now, if that. “I think if there were, my mom would already have a guy on it,” he said.

Your eyes met his and you shared a soft laugh. “Well, it’s really beautiful,” you sighed. “It must have taken her ages to do all this.”

“Not really,” Steve chuckled. “She has, like, a whole team that comes in and puts it all together.”

“Oh, right. Of course.” Your gaze dropped and you gave a regretful shake of your head. Rich people stuff, you thought a bit bitterly. No wonder that hadn’t occurred to you. “But…you must decorate the tree together, at least. Right?”

“No, they do that too. I’ve, uh…I’ve never actually never decorated a tree for Christmas. I kind of thought that was just something they did in movies.”

He huffed out a laugh, trying to hide the sadness that had started to pollute his smile, and rubbed the back of his head, tugging at the hair there that curled along the nape of his neck.

All you could do was stare.

You thought about that gleaming, twelve-foot behemoth downstairs with its dazzling lights and ornaments all spaced and hung so perfectly. It was stunning—looked like something straight out of a magazine. But now it was tinged with something hollow and unsatisfactory.

Cold. Fake. Empty.

It was you who stepped closer this time, the muscles in your arm tensing as if fighting against your brain’s instructions to reach out and touch him. He was close enough now you could feel the warmth coming off his body and smell the spice of his cologne and the clove cigarette he must have smoked. Your lips trembled, parted slightly, still searching for what to say.

But words refused to come.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Steve soothed, flashing you that easy and charming smile you’d grown to love and loathe in equal measure. “I just meant, like, Christmas really isn’t a big deal to me. And neither is this party, honestly, but…”

He fell silent as his hand reached out to squeeze your elbow, the soft pad of his thumb rubbing gently across your forearm. You stared mutely at his hand where it rested, already dreading how cold it would feel there when he let go of you. Except he didn’t.

“I’m really happy you’re here, though,” he said.

Steve’s chest rose with a sharp inhale and the tip of his tongue swiped along his bottom lip to wet it. His head tilted towards you, a few stray pieces of hair falling into his eyes that were bright and shiny with the string lights around the window reflecting in them.

It made your own breath catch, praying you weren’t imagining it as he started to lean in.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

You and Steve flew apart like shrapnel, both of you too wrapped up in the steady draw of your bodies together to notice the heavy thump of Eddie’s footsteps in the hall. Steve’s hand came up automatically to run through his hair, dragging up the bottom of his sweater and flashing the briefest glimpse of torso as his arm lifted. It made your mouth dry as a bone.

“I just realized I forgot about my hostess gift,” Eddie said.

His brow cocked at you and yet another little smirk curved along his lips as he brushed past, nudging you ever so subtly back in Steve’s direction. He then started to rifle through the inside pockets of his leather jacket until he exhumed a plastic bag with a few joints inside.

“Got it!” he chimed, holding it up triumphantly. “Merry Christmas, Stevie.”

The little baggie sailed through the air, crinkling when it hit Steve in the center of his chest.

“Oh! Thanks, man,” he chuckled, fumbling to catch it. “That’s great.”

Turning it over in his hands, he paused, mulling in silence as he stared down at the joints and glanced over his shoulder at the open doorway. From downstairs, you could now hear the faint tinkling of a piano being played and Eddie noticeably winced at the first few warbled notes of an unrecognizable carol being sung by a particularly drunk chorus.

“You know,” Steve said slowly. “We could bail on the party. Take this out to the pool house?”

As soon as he asked, his eyes darted up to meet yours—interrupting your intense study of the side of his face. Round and hopeful, they shone with his earnestness and you felt dizzy all over again. It made your brain scramble, trying to act like you weren’t just consumed by thoughts of what might or might not have been about to happen. You smiled.

“What are we waiting for?”

Steve left the lights off in the pool house, not wanting to draw too much attention if someone wandered onto the patio for some fresh air. The three of you made your way out in shifts—you with a plate of decadent treats you’d filled from the long table of desserts, Eddie with one loaded with food he’d swiped from the circulating trays, and Steve with a bottle of champagne he’d snuck out of the kitchen while the caterers were distracted.

The satisfying pop of its opening bounced off the walls that were mostly windows, sounding all the more illicit and clandestine in the darkness. The contents of the bottle fizzed as he held it out, offering you the first swig, and you took it with a nimble grasp.

Bubbly liquid splashed on your tongue and the dry, almost acidic, taste of it surely would have impressed someone with a more refined palette. But it made you wrinkle your nose as you squinted to read the French name scrawled in a loopy script on the shield shaped label.

“Gross, right?” Steve chuckled as you handed the bottle back. “But it gets the job done.”

He took a deep swig, head tipping back and giving you a long, long moment to study his neck as the muscles flexed with his swallow. You stared shamelessly, transfixed by the pairs of moles that sat along the line of his strong jaw, head empty of thoughts except how much better thechampagne would taste if you were licking it from his lips.

Eddie coughed, all loud and fake, drawing both of your eyes to him where he sat on a rattan sofa in the center of the room. He stared at you expectantly as he slouched down further in his seat, his knees spread wide and his arms draped across the back. He’d wasted no time making himself more comfortable, loosening the evergreen tie you’d made him wear and rolling up the sleeves of the dress shirt he normally only broke out for funerals or the odd court appearance.

“Don’t I get some of that?” he asked with a wry smirk.

Steve hurried to offer him the champagne, wiping away a little dribble of it that had started to trickle down his chin. You followed behind and slotted into a chair adjacent to Eddie’s as Steve handed off the bottle, making your brain short circuit when you saw the way his wide grasp nearly engulfed the entire bottom. It didn’t restart until he settled in the seat next to you.

After taking his sip, Eddie sparked up one of the joints and started it in a rotation along with the champagne. After only a few pulls from each you started to feel the effects, your head getting all light and floaty, your body warming from the blood pumping through you, your skin buzzing from the way your fingers kept brushing Steve’s whenever you passed him the joint or the bottle.

Or maybe it was from the way his eyes lingered on yours when you did.

Eventually, you dropped out of the rotation and sank back in your chair to gaze up at the house. The whole thing seemed to glow with the warmth of the party within, its windows bright yellow, the lights twinkling on the eaves. And the snowfall had remained soft and steady, dusting everything with a fine layer of white like powdered sugar.

The picture was immaculate, like a life-size snow globe. If Steve’s mother had somehow managed to pay Mother Nature as a decorator, it wouldn’t surprise you in the slightest.

“Seriously, Harrington,” Eddie snorted, evidently sharing in your bewilderment. “If all this is just the weekend before, I’m scared to ask what your family does for the main event.”

A deep chuckle bubbled out of his chest as he took a long swig of the rapidly draining bottle. He’d said it mostly as a joke, but Steve’s reaction revealed a nerve had been struck. He began to cough, sputtering out his words as he pulled the smoldering joint from between his lips.

“Oh no, it’s not—they aren’t, uh…they won’t be here.”

His eyes darted to the floor as he shook his head and stammered out his non-answer, wearing that same look on his face you’d seen in the guest room. Half-sad and trying to hide it.

“What do you mean?” Eddie asked. Steve just shrugged.

“They always go away for Christmas. I think it’s St. Barts this year. Maybe Turks and Caicos? Their flight is sometime tomorrow night.”

“Wait, so…they just leave you here?” you asked. “By yourself?”

Steve shrugged and shook his head again, the move almost reflexive, like flinching away from the sting of alcohol cleaning a fresh wound. “A nanny would stay with me when I was little. But from the time I was old enough…yeah, pretty much.”

You and Eddie’s eyes met, the same unthinkable thought seemingly crossing your minds. You actually felt bad—not just bad, but sad—for Steve Harrington.

“It’s not so bad, seriously,” he said, all flustered trying to salvage the mood. “I just hang out and watch movies and eat pizza. It’s fun. Honest.”

Despite his attempts, you can’t help but frown as you think what Steve’s Christmas will look like. His big house that was bursting at the seams with people right now being cold and desolate; him sitting all alone at a long dining room table eating leftover appetizers for every meal.

The thought tugged at something buried deep inside you. Something you’d packed away long ago and shoved into the furthest recesses of your mind. A box wrapped and taped and stapled and tied shut and then shoved behind a closet door. It made you turn to look at Eddie and he nodded knowingly, needing no words to know what you wanted him to say.

“You should come over,” he said, speaking so suddenly it came out loud in the tense quiet.

Steve’s head lifted. “What?”

“To me and Wayne’s,” Eddie supplied. “For Christmas Eve. We have dinner together and watch old movies and play games and shit. With this one.”

He jerked his thumb at you and you smiled as Steve’s eyes flitted over to meet your gaze.

“Only because they can’t cook to save their lives,” you said, shooting him a wink that made the corners of his mouth curl upwards.

“It’s not gonna be like this,” Eddie assured. “But it’s something, you know?”

“That, um…” Steve looked down at his lap, his long lashes fluttering as he tried to blink back the beginnings of tears. “That sounds really nice.”

Your hand moved without permission, reaching out to close around his wrist and squeeze. Steve’s head turned, staring at it like he thought he was dreaming. And as your brain suddenly caught up with the action and your body flooded with embarrassment, you started to pull it back only to feel the warmth of his palm covering your hand to hold it in place.

The only sound in the room was yours and Steve’s soft breathing and you swore you could feel the way both of your pulses were racing in time. His eyes lifted to meet yours and you became entranced all over again by his handsome face, the freckles that dotted his tanned skin, hazel eyes that shimmered as he scanned your expression, the deepness of his cupid's bow.

“I, um…I should check in with my mom real quick. You guys, uh…sit tight.”

Steve sputtered out his words as he rose to his feet, leaving your skin cold as he pulled his hands from yours. He looked around, his eyes searching to land on anything besides you or Eddie as he turned and stumbled towards the door. Eddie watched you watch Steve leave, an expression on his face as bemused as it was mocking.

“Jesus Christ, you two are exhausting.”

He shook his head, laughing to himself as he stuffed the last of the appetizers in his mouth. You glared back at him as he chewed and tried not to think about how your hand still burned where the ghost of Steve’s warmth remained.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on. If I knew I was gonna have to watch you make googly-eyes at each other all night, I could have stayed home. I get enough of that as it is.”

“We’re not—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Eddie scoffed. “You are. He is. Just make a move, already.”

It was actually painful rolling your eyes as hard as you did. “Right. Sure. And what kind of move am I supposed to make? Considering how he ran out of here just because I touched his arm?”

“You’re not serious, are you? You’re pulling my dick, right?”

Eddie hunched forward as you deadpanned him, answering with a slow blink of your eyes and humorless expression until he threw his head back in a loud laugh.

“He had a fucking boner, smartass!” he cackled.

It’s not only your cheeks that warm now, but your whole body igniting like a bonfire. The feeling grips your shoulders, it’s talons digging into your flesh, threatening to pierce it to the bone.

“Bullshit,” you whispered, your mind reeling.

“You think I don’t know Steve well enough to know when he goes from six to midnight? It happens literally any time you touch him.”

Eddie was still snickering to himself as he took a final puff of the joint that had been smoked down to a nub. You stared at your hands in your lap, thoughts going into overdrive. Because this wasn’t just some random guy at the Hideout or an ex-classmate hitting on you at a house party. This wouldn’t be just a fumbled touch, grabby hands groping blindly in a dark closet that you would recount to Eddie before he gave you the orgasm you’d sorely been denied.

This was Steve. This would be something. Wouldn’t it?

“Only one way to find out,” Eddie said, as though he could hear the question you were asking yourself. “Anything’s gotta be better than this.”

“But what if he—”

The rattle of the doorknob cut you off, your eyes darted to the door just as Steve pushed it open to slip back inside. Eddie’s dark curls fell forward, sliding off his shoulders as he leaned in.

“Just follow my lead,” he whispered.

Your eyes bulged in your skull, but before you could retort or argue, Steve had plopped back down in the chair next to you and your lips were effectively sealed.

“So the singing is still going on,” he chuckled. “But I think everyone will head home soon. We aren’t missing much.”

“That’s okay.” Eddie groaned softly into a stretch as he settled back into his reclined position. “I’m sure we can think of something to do.”

Heat flooded your core at his insinuating tone and you sat up a little straighter. He let his head loll to the side, his eyes finding yours automatically, dark irises glinting in the scant light.

“Hey…c’mere, doll.”

Eddie shifted down in his seat, rubbing his ringed hand across his thigh as an invitation. Maybe it was the weed. Maybe it was the fancy, and surely expensive, champagne you’d been sipping all night. Maybe it was the way Steve’s gaze followed you so intently as you stood and walked over to where Eddie sat on the wicker sofa. Whatever it was, it was working.

You laid your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as you kneeled on the cushion next to him and went to straddle his lap. But his hands came up to grip your waist and stopped you.

“Uh-uh,” he said, motioning his index finger in a circle. “Other way.”

You hesitated, glancing from your crouched position over at Steve. His eyes smoldered in the darkness as he watched you—leaning forward in his seat, elbows resting on his knees, his long fingers laced in front of him. With a hard swallow, you stood and turned.

Eddie jerked you back against him, roughly pulling you flush with his chest. His knees pushed between your own and he spread them wide so your legs were held open, draped over the tops of his thighs. It made the skirt of your dress glide upwards, hem skimming the tops of your stockings, threatening to reveal the strips of bare skin between them and your panties.

His words from earlier still rang in your head. Follow my lead.

Well-worn hands splayed wide across your stomach, squeezing at the softness of your waist. Beneath you, his hips began to shift and the beginnings of his hard-on pressed insistently into the fat of your ass. It made you shiver all over, a gasp falling from your lips.

“So well behaved,” Eddie hummed, tracing the line of your jaw with his fingertips, suddenly gripping your chin in his hand to turn your face towards him. “She’s such a good girl, Stevie…. and we have so much fun together…”

The words and the deep timbre of his voice sent more shivers down your spine as he bumped the tip of your nose with his own. He pecked lightly at your lips until they opened up for him, his tongue probing the warm cavern of your mouth until you were moaning into his kiss.

It was lazy, but punishing. He nipped gently at your top lip, his own feathering with a tiny snarl as he revered back to his conversation with Steve.

“Why don’t you tell her about that photo you found?” he asked, hot breath fanning across your cheek. “Tell her what you thought about it.”

Your gaze flashed to Steve’s and you wondered if there was more light in here whether you’d be able to see a rush of scarlet covering his cheeks. His eyes had gone round with nervous energy, but they remained locked onto yours as he spoke.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about it,” he rasped, his voice almost cracking his throat was so tight. “I wish I could see it again, I…I wish it was me she’d done that for.”

The pit of your belly burned at his words, a breathy sigh fluttering in your chest and an exquisite ache now radiating between your legs. Eddie’s fingers trailed along the center of your body, over your sternum, tracing the dip of your navel through your dress until it quivered under his touch.

Slowly, he drew up the bottom of your dress like a curtain to reveal your core and the black lace your arousal had begun to seep through. The tips of his fingers stroked your entrance, mercilessly teasing your second set of lips.

“You wouldn’t believe how good she feels, Steve,” Eddie husked, his fingers holding their pace, making you grind into his lap. “Way better than that prissy cheerleader pussy you’re used to.”

The room filled with the sound of your breath and the wet schlick of Eddie’s fingers in your folds.

“Oh, sorry,” Eddie snickered. “I should say honor society pussy.”

Steve’s nostrils suddenly flared, his gaze tearing away from you and your body as if coming out of a trance. You looked back over your shoulder with a horrified look.

“Eddie—”

“Shush,” he snapped, cutting you off by plunging his fingers inside of you. They hooked upwards and your back bowed at the sudden stretch, a broken moan slipping past your lips. Steve’s eyes were drawn to your face at the sound, Eddie’s mention of his ex flying right out of his head.

“You want a taste, Harrington?” he asked, all dark and leading.

A little whimper escaped you at the thought and Eddie grinned wickedly. He smiled as he kissed the back of your neck, his teeth flashing as he nipped at your racing pulse.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, sweetheart? You’d like his tongue?”

“Y-yes,” you gasped, your eyes darting to find Steve’s. “Please.”

At your plaintive mewl, the very moment you asked, Steve instantly rose to his feet and hurried to kneel between yours and Eddie’s spread legs. His long fingers wrapped around the gusset of your underwear and he wrenched them to the side to reveal your dripping core.

He licked his lips as he stared at it, practically salivating. Your own lips trembled, fighting back the urge to cry out for him as you let your head fall back to rest on Eddie’s shoulder.

The wet heat of his tongue met your pussy in long, languid swipes. He nodded his head with each motion, dragging it through your folds as he inhaled deep and needy breaths of your scent like you were his air. His eyes burned with lust as he looked up from between your thighs, gauging your every reaction in the way you fluttered around his tongue.

With a trembling hand, you reached out and brushed your fingertips along his brow, skimming the stray pieces of hair that had fallen forward into his eyes. The intensity of his stare, the depth of his gaze, made you glow brighter even than that behemoth of a tree inside.

He sped up his movements, working you up, the tip of his tongue pointed to swirl in a pattern as magical as it was maddening, flicking it teasingly over your clit and making you clench with each too-quick pass. At the same time, you felt Eddie’s hand creep up between your shoulder blades, fingers weaving into your hair to grasp it at the root. He gave it a firm tug and pulled your head back, bringing his lips to your ear so he could whisper to you—deep and rough and just loud enough for Steve to hear.

“Why don’t you tell him how long you’ve wanted this, huh?”

Another pitiful whimper left your lips as Eddie’s other hand squeezed a little more intensely at your chest, tweaking your nipple through your dress, loving how it made you tremble.

“Si-since Junior year,” you panted. “When he w-won the state swim meet…”

Just the thought of that day nearly has you flooding Eddie’s lap and Steve’s mouth. Your mind filled with the memories of it—visions of him in a Speedo that confirmed just about every rumor you’d ever overheard in the girl’s locker room; his arm and back muscles rippling as he pushed himself out of the pool; water spilling over freckled skin, droplets collecting on his shoulders and running down, down, down to where the small of his back met the fullness of his ass.

You had sat in the stands, thighs pressing together, feeling almost perverted staring while he celebrated with his teammates and whipped off his swim cap, his wild hair exploding out of it and making you wonder how he’d even managed to fit it all underneath in the first place.

The mere mention of his glory days seemed to have a similar effect on Steve. The movements of his tongue and lips turned more fervent, more determined to unspool you as he moaned like he’d never tasted anything as good as you.

Tremors began to roll through your body, making your thighs twitch and spasm.

“Tell him how good it feels,” Eddie husked, hips now punching up to create some friction against his own cock as it strained inside his dress pants. “Tell him how much you like it.”

“Yes, Steve, fuck—I love it so much,” you whined. “Keep going, I need it.”

The pretty lilt and waver of your voice had Steve unraveling before your very eyes. Another low groan rumbled from deep in his chest and he buried his face further, more eagerly, in your heat.

“God, you taste so fucking good, honey,” he moaned. “I could do this all night.”

The thought of having his mouth on you all night is enthralling, but there was no way you would last. You were barely going to make it another minute as it was. Steve was too good.

Every flick, every swipe, every swirl of his tongue you could feel in your entire body. Pleasure rushed across you in waves, a torturous winding upwards, that burning feeling deep in your gut coiling tighter, tighter. Your breaths grew shallow and your pulse raced until you were shaking in Eddie’s lap, fighting so hard to keep your legs spread apart that they shook from the effort.

Steve’s hands came up to grasp at your thighs, his fingers squeezing at the meat of them as he kept you pried open for him to ravish. Like a man possessed, he lapped and sucked and kissed at your entrance, his whole body seeming to move along with the motions of his tongue and lips. Beneath you, the wicker couch suddenly slid backwards and you realized it was because he had tried to grind against it—desperate to feel something, anything, against his cock.

Wishing it was you.

“C-close, close, I’m so close. Steve, I’m co—oohhh—”

Your orgasm rushed in, plowing through your body, making you lose all sense. You squirmed wildly in Eddie’s lap, almost having forgotten he was there until he reached around to give both of your nipples one last pinch—knowing how it always pushed you further over the edge.

Steve’s lips never left your clit and his eyes never left your face as he ushered you into your climax. He stared up at you, his eyes all glassy and round, searching for your reassurance as he rose from between your legs. His face hovered in front of yours and he lifted a hand to cup your jaw, his massive palm warm on your flushed skin as you panted to regain your breath.

“Good?” he asked. Hushed, like a prayer.

“So good,” you exhaled, chest still heaving. Your voice wobbled as you spoke, so overwhelmed with all your buried feelings being dredged to the surface. “Steve, that was—”

“Steven? Are you out here?”

Every hair on Steve’s head went flying as he whipped his head around hearing his mother’s voice. Through the sheer curtains, he could see her as she stepped outside onto the porch, peering into the darkness, wrapping a fur stole tighter around her elegant cocktail attire.

Panic struck his face like lightning, his mouth hanging open, his lips and chin still shiny with your spend. He looked back at you, his cheeks nearly as deep red as the velvet ribbons hung all over his house. You scrambled off Eddie’s lap to stand, frantically straightening your dress and hair, nervously wiping at your lips that were swollen from biting down when you came.

“I, um…the party’s probably over,” Steve said. “I just have to say goodbye to some people.”

He ran his hands through his hair a few more times as he strode towards the door, even though any damage you’d done grabbing it must have been righted by now. You looked over at Eddie, your own eyes swirling with questions you were terrified to hear the answers to.

His shoulders bounced, standing to tuck his shirttail back into his dress pants.

“Well, that’s one way to do it.”.

Steve was waiting in the foyer with you and Eddie’s coats when you snuck in from outside. His parents, thankfully, were too occupied giving the caterers instructions for clean-up to exchange any pleasantries at the door. You could only imagine how that would go…

Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Harrington. I’m the girl your son made come all over his face in your pool house. What a lovely party, thank you so much for inviting us.

There was still a smile on Steve’s face, though it felt almost pasted on now compared to his expression when you first arrived, sort of forced in an attempt to look more normal than he felt. He handed off Eddie’s leather jacket and then held yours open, his eyes remaining glued to you as you turned and pushed your arms through the sleeves. His fingertips trailed along the nape of your neck as he helped straighten the coat on your shoulders, his index tracing its curve all the way to your hairline in a way that felt so intentional it made your skin buzz.

With your ears pounding from your heartbeat thundering in them, you spun around to face him, your lips parted to speak only for no words to come. Because what was there for you to say? Or for him to do? Kiss you? He hadn’t even done that during, would he do it now to say goodbye?

Steve’s handsome face was as conflicted and contorted as your own. A faint blush still dusted along his cheeks and his eyes shone bright from the candlelight coming off the tapers that had burned almost all the way out. At last he drew a breath, and you felt your heart stutter.

“Thank you for coming,” he said softly.

Eddie could barely contain the snort that burst out of him, even as he slapped a hand over his crooked smile and your eyes shot daggers straight into his chest.

You couldn’t get out the door fast enough.

There was only silence as the pair of you trudged along the driveway to the street where Eddie had parked his van, the snow on the ground having melted into slush mottled with gray where it mixed with excess oil on the road. Without the glow of the Christmas lights coming off the rest of the houses in the neighborhood, the darkness of Steve’s street now felt oppressive.

It made you walk a little quicker to the van, your hand curled tight around the passenger side door handle waiting for Eddie to unlock it. As the two of you climbed inside the cab, he cranked the engine and flipped open the air vents for the heat to blast, finally breaking his silence as you yanked your door shut behind you with a sharp tug.

“Look, I’m sorry. Okay? I thought I was helping,” Eddie muttered, his hands gripping tight around the steering wheel. “You were being so fucking obvious, I thought you needed a push.”

His chunky rings glinted in the street light as he busied himself messing with the radio, static scratching in your ears as he searched for something besides Christmas music.

“Are you really mad?” he asked, still fiddling with the dial, barely able to look at you.

You shook your head.

“I just…I don’t know, I feel like it’s weird now.” You let your face fall into your hands and shook your head furiously. “I mean, was that totally fucked up? To do that?”

“Nah, that wasn’t fucked up,” Eddie said assuredly.

He sounded confident enough that you let your shoulders actually relax and finally expelled the breath you were holding. The relief was short-lived though, when Eddie piped up again.

“I’ll tell you what might be, though.”

With a heavy sigh, you looked over at him warily. “What?” you asked.

Eddie sighed as he slumped back against the seat. His foot rested on the gas pedal and he pressed it down lightly, barely revving the engine to get some hot air flowing from the vents.

“When he comes over for Christmas Eve.”

Thank you so much for reading, I appreciate any time taken to read/comment endlessly ♥️

Started on this last year in December so that should tell you everything you need to know about my writing process. Enjoy some Christmas in whatever-month-you’re-reading-this. 😉

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson one shot #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic

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Text

Broken - Chapter 1

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Summary: A year has passed since Joel and Ellie have returned to Jackson when he finds you on patrol, half frozen and half burning up. Jackson takes you in and nurses you back to health, welcoming you as the newest member of their community. The more time passes, Joel realizes that you and him have more in common than he likes... Until one day, everything changes and you get a gift that he'll never get.

Word Count: 3964 words

Warnings: Cursing, near death experience, mention of blood, insomnia.

Chapter 1 - A Brush With Death

Joel didn't know there could be so many types of snow. Texas didn't get all that much of it, at least not where he lived. He'd seen his fair share of the white stuff when he lived in Boston, but somehow, snow is different out here in Jackson. It could have been just an illusion, that it had only seemed different because Boston was different, crowded and dirty and falling apart at the seams, whereas Jackson is open, wide and free and clean.

Whatever it is, snow feels different here. Today, the flakes are big and heavy, a lot more like rain but not yet quite like sleet. They're coming down in chunks, flakes stuck together in tiny little icy clumps that fall to the ground in quiet and wet, prickling thumps. It's not as enjoyable as the soft and powdery kind that came down during his patrol yesterday. The shreds of ice prick his skin as they get blown across his face where his bandana doesn't reach. He rubs a gloved hand over the slither of exposed skin, but it remains itchy, irritated by its icy attackers.

Joel grunts and squints through the white flurry. "Can't see a damn thing in this damn weather," he grumbles, but carries on regardless. His horse lazily trots through the snow. Joel can't help but wonder what the animal thinks about this weather. Probably having as much fun as I am, he thinks and runs his glove over his eyes again. Some snowflakes got caught in his eyelashes. He feels the icy flakes melt on his eyeballs as he rubs the glove back and forth and shudders. Not a pleasant sensation.

He trudges through the snow for a few more minutes, but it doesn't let up. If anything, it looks like it's getting worse, more and more flakes fluttering through the air until visibility drops below 20 feet. "Alright, that's enough." His voice comes out in puffs of hot air. Joel flicks his tongue and softly tugs on the left rein. His horse immediately obeys. They do a 180, careful not to slip off the road. There's no point in staying out here in weather like this. Not if I can't goddamn see, he thinks. Once they're turned around, things are a little better. With the wind on his back, the brim of his head provides enough protection from the flakes and they're no longer blowing straight into his eyes.

15 minutes later, he's made it about half-way back to Jackson. The snow is coming down so heavy and quick that his horse's tracks are nearly covered again, the sheet of white almost seeming as undisturbed as before. Joel scans his surroundings as they trot back, peering across the black and white landscape in search of anything out of the ordinary, but he finds nothing. Now that his sight is undisturbed, the scenery is almost hypnotizing. With the wind on his back, the soft falling of the heavy flakes mixes into a soothing background noise. He notices his eye-lids getting heavy, straining to stay open as they run over white and more white, an endless canvas of the same coated trees and bushes.

It's no wonder then that he almost misses the set of tracks that cross his own in the snow, slurry and less precise than his horse's hoofmarks on the ground. It feels like a trick of his eyes at first, but Joel's instincts have had too many years of training. He perks up and flicks his tongue again, softly tugging on the reins so his four-legged companion stills. Joel peers down at the ground, inspecting the tracks. They're fresher than his own; the flakes didn't have enough time to fill the gaps on the snowy surface yet.

He slides the rifle off his shoulder as his eyes follow the tracks to the bushes on his left. Awaiting an attack, his gloved finger has already wandered down to the trigger, but he doesn't shoot right away. "What in the...?" His question hangs in the air along with little clouds of hot breath. What the hell am I lookin' at?

It's hard to make out at first. Animal? It's big and lumpy, but the contortions don't fit anything he's ever seen. Its coat is puffy and bloated and white, blending in it with its surroundings almost too easily. Joel's eyes travel over the unfamiliar creature until he suddenly realizes what he's looking at. "Aw, shit!" The curse comes out in a hiss as he slides off his horse.

What he thought to be an animal at first is nothing less than a human. He approaches the lump on the ground with a raised rifle, pointed at what he now makes out to be the head. This could be a trap, a voice inside him thinks, but something tells him it's not. It's nothing more than a gut feeling, but he still approaches the figure carefully.

"Hey." The person on the ground doesn't respond, doesn't even stir. "Hey," he repeats, this time a little louder. He nudges his foot against what he judges to be a leg, but again, there is no response. His gut and brain discuss for a moment before he leans down. In one swift motion, he's removed one of his gloves and shoved his hand into the fur that encircles the head. Immediately, he can tell that his gut was right. Heat simmers below the person's coat like a hot furnace. His cold fingers run over the naked skin until he finds the spot just below the chin.

A breath of relief leaves him when he feels a pulse softly thrumming against his fingertips, but it's weak. Carefully, he lifts the head and gently turns it so he can look at the face. It belongs to a woman, pale and ashen, tinging on blue. It's the look of someone who has no time to waste. "Alright," he mutters and hoists his rifle again before he places one arm under the woman's torso, his other wrapping around it firmly from above. "C'mere." He grunts as he attempts to lift her body off of the ground. She can't weigh much, but the angle is awkward and his shoes don't have much tract in the snow.

It takes him a couple of tries, but eventually, he manages to heave the limp body across his saddle. Once it stays up, he awkwardly climbs into the settle behind the woman. Her legs are dangling off to one side, her arms and head to the other. It's not ideal, but it'll have to do. "C'mon!" He kicks his horse's sides and they dash off, back towards Jackson, back to where there's doctors and medicine. He just hopes it's not too late.

You come to with a gasp, eyes flying open as your torso shoots upwards. Your first few moments of consciousness are overwhelming, a complete chaos of blurry vision, a dizziness that's threatening to push you over and the drumming of your own pulse in your ears, loud and deafening over the frequent beeping noises in the background. Your fingers dig into the material of the surface beneath you, a frantic search of something familiar, something that'll tell you where you are, something to steady you.

Before you've had any time to adjust, something's touching your shoulder, followed by a pressure that's pushing you backwards. You panic and grasp at the things that are forcing you down before realizing they are hands, but the realization doesn't slow your panic, it only fuels it. You flail, fighting against your attacker with flying limbs, scratching and screaming and putting everything in it that you've got. There's a sharp pull in the crook of your right arm, but you don't relent, determined to fight off your assailant.

Despite your strenuous attempt, you lose the fight and fall backwards. As your head slams backwards, your world suddenly regains focus, as if someone turned up the sharpening setting in one swift go. The dizziness remains, but despite your blood still rushing in your ears, you can also hear a voice.

"It's okay! You're okay! You're safe!"

You blink rapidly a few times. Your eyes are swimming in and out of focus before they settle on the person in front of you. It's a man dressed in faded blue scrubs. The arms that are pinning you down are his arms, but despite the threatening gesture, his face is full of concern, not threat. You slowly take in your surroundings as you catch your breath. You appear to be in a hospital room of sorts. It's got all the equipment that comes with the territory, beeping machines and all, which you realize are the source of the frantic beeping you heard just seconds ago; their rhythm gradually slowing as your breathing becomes more steady.

The man holding you down releases his grip on your shoulders and moves around your bed to your other side. You follow his movements closely and jerk back when he reaches for your right arm. In response, he takes a step back, hands raised.

"I just wanna help. Can I do that?" He points to your arm when you don't respond. Your eyes briefly flit down to follow his finger. There's blood leaking out of the crook of your arm; the bloody needle of an IV dangling on your bed's railing not far off. Must have pulled it out when I was panicking. It's your first coherent thought since coming to.

You give a court nod and he resumes his work immediately, tending to your wound with concentration. While he works, your eyes work over the room again.

"Where am I?" Your voice comes out rusted and croaky. How long has it been since I've been out?, you wonder and try to think back to the last thing you remember, but you come up blank.

"You're safe," the nurse responds. He's wrapped your arm up in a neat bandage - clean, you notice - and moves over to a cabinet where he retrieves a freshly packed IV needle. "Can I?" He nods at your left arm and you hum in agreement. You watch him insert the needle into your skin before you speak again.

"That's not what I asked." He finishes up his work by attaching the lines of your IV bag to your new access point, checking for air bubbles and tangles, then places his hands on your hand railing. His eyes find yours. "Look, you're safe, and that's all that matters right now." You want to interrupt him, but he holds a finger up. "No, just wait. Someone will be by to explain everything shortly. I'm not at liberty to say. But I promise," he leans in closer, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. "I promise, you're safe here. Okay?"

It takes a moment, but you nod and sink back into your pillow. Safe my ass, you think. When's the last time that anywhere was really safe? But what choice do you have? Your body is in no shape to fight, let alone to flee. Besides, this hospital bed is the most comfortable thing you've laid on in months. Might as well enjoy it while you can. Who knows what's waiting for you.

According to the clock on the wall, half an hour passes before the door to your room opens again. This time, it's not the male nurse but a woman that enters. She carries herself with the confidence of someone who's word counts. You prop yourself up as she approaches you, stopping a few feet away with crossed arms.

Neither of you speak for a moment. You eye each other, seizing the other woman up, a silent first introduction that seems to go well when she drops her arms to her sides and her body language switches from closed off to more open. Still, you're the first one to speak.

"You in charge?"

"One of the people in charge, yes."

"One of them?"

"There's a council, elected by the town's members." She seems to hesitate but then crosses the remaining distance between you two before holding a hand out.

"I'm Maria. It's nice to finally meet you." You can't help but raise an eyebrow, yet shake her hand anyway.

"Finally? You heard of me?"

"Oh, we heard plenty! Can I?" She nods at the open space on your bed in front of you and takes a seat when you gesture for her to sit down. "You were quite the talk of the town, the way you arrived. On the brink of death." She smiles at you and, to your surprise, it looks genuine. "Happy you pulled through."

There's an uncomfortable silence where you don't know what to say. You fiddle with the blanket between your fingers as quiet settles over you two.

When Maria reaches out to lay a hand on yours, you instinctually flinch back, but then allow the touch. You see a hint of sadness fluttering across her face, but she quickly hides it behind a sympathetic smile. "I don't know what you've been through, but it can't have been pretty. We're willing to offer you a place to stay, a new home if you want it, but we got rules."

A place to stay? A home?

What's the cost? you think, but don't say the question out loud. "Most of all, you've got to be willing to put in the work. We all chip in here," Maria says as if she overheard your thoughts. "Do you think that's something for you?" She gives you a moment to think about it. A smile spreads across her face when you finally nod.

"Great. Now relax, regain your strength. We'll figure everything out over the next couple of days. I'll come by and introduce you to some people so we can figure out where to place you, okay?" Maria slides off your bed and heads for the door. You can see her wringing her hands in anticipation, a mixture of concern and gladness on her face when she turns around to you once more. "You're safe here. You don't have to worry anymore."

She gives you one last smile and then she's out the door. Yeah right, you think. We'll see about that.

There's 57 cracks in the ceiling. You know this because you've counted them yourself, every single night since this house was first appointed to you. Despite the comfortable - clean, one might add -bed, the roof over your head, hell, despite the damn blackout-curtains, you can't find any sleep.

Your insomnia isn't new. The last good night's rest you've had was probably 22 years ago, before all hell broke loose and the world turned into the shithole it is today. You don't remember a day since where you didn't go to bed hungry or worried for your safety. To be fair, it was better when you had her. Despite worrying for two, it was better when she was there, her tiny body curled up against yours-

You stop the thought when the familiar hole aches in your chest. You try not to think about it, about her, because it always ends up hurting, the pain chipping away at the sides of the hole and making it larger with every relived memory.

"Fuck." You whisper, but it's almost as loud as a shout in the dead-quiet of the house. An entire house for a single person. It seems bizarre to you after having lived in tight quarters for so long, presumptuous even. It feels wrong. And lonely, a small voice chirps in the back of your head, but you swat it away like a fly.

"Alright, enough." There's no point in staying in bed any longer. Dawn is approaching outside, the faintest whisper of light slowly creeping over the horizon and casting long shadows across your bedroom. You roll out of bed and slip on your shoes, never having taken off yesterday's clothes. They provided you with an entire new wardrobe when they granted you residence, PJ's included and all, but old habits die hard.

You make your way downstairs where you brew yourself a quick cup of coffee. Out of all the amenities your new home comes with, this one just might be your favorite perk. Where your adrenaline betrays you during the day, you finally get to rely on caffeine again instead. It's one of the small pleasures you grant yourself every now and then, when a night has been particularly rough.

You lean against the kitchen counter in the semi-dark as you drink your coffee, savoring every sip. The world doesn't seem quite so bad in these moments, in the morning quiet with a steaming cup between your hands and the warm liquid running down your throat, warming you from the inside out and filling your body with fresh life force.

It's then that you hear two mumbled voices outside. Fuck. You mouth the word, cursing the fact that you left your gun upstairs. Carefully, you set your cup down and then open the top drawer next to you, taking out a large chopping knife.

Knife in hand and slowly, so as not to make any sound, you tip-toe towards your front door while keeping your back against the wall. You hear the voices growing louder through the thick glass panels that frame the entrance of your house.

"Seriously, Tommy, why me? Just 'cause I brought her in? It's not like we got a special connection or somethin'."

"Then you'll make one! It's not that hard."

You manage to peer out of one of the glass panels and realize with some relief that it's Tommy Miller, Maria's husband, and Joel Miller, his brother.

The fuck they want here so early in the morning?

"Look. When you and Ellie got here, you were all fidgety for the first few months, and I don't blame you with what you've been through. Hell, some nights even I don't sleep thinking about all we got to lose here." You watch as Tommy and Joel climb the front steps of your porch. "But you saw what this place is. What it means, what it stands for. We got something good going here, Joel. I know you can see that. I just want you to help her see that too."

There's a moment of silence between the brothers while they're staring each other down. "Fine." Joel sounds exasperated. "But why me?" An expression takes form on Tommy's face that you can only describe as 'knowing'. You don't like it. "Because," he starts and raises a hand to knock on your door. "You and her, you got the same kind of twitchy."

Before he can bring his fist down on the cold wood, you open the door in one swift motion.

"Mornin', boys."

They turn to you with a stunned look on their faces. Tommy in particular looks a bit strained, obviously wondering how much you heard.

"Saw y'all walking up on my porch when I came through the hallway," you offer in explanation and watch in amusement as relief washes over the younger brother's face. "What's got you comin' up here so early in the morning?"

"Ah." Tommy smiles broadly and slaps his older brother on the back. "Jeff got sick and Joel here needs a replacement buddy for his rounds. Thought maybe you could fill in for him, seeing as how we haven't found a job for you yet." He smiles at you expectantly, but his smile wavers a little the longer you let him wait for a response.

"Fine," you eventually say, mimicking Joel's tone from earlier. "Lemme' just get my jacket."

The first few rays of sunshine trickle over the land as you ride out of Jackson. You keep a steady, albeit not hasty pace next to each other. Despite what you overheard, Joel doesn't make any attempts of forming any kind of connection. You just ride together in silence, keeping a lookout for anything out of place. You're a little too proud to admit it, but the fresh, cold air feels really good on your skin. You make a mental note not to thank Tommy for this little set-up. Twitchy my ass, you think. What's it to him anyway?

The first half of your morning patrol passes by uneventfully. Joel leads you to what you can only assume was a camping site back in the day where he wipes some snow off of a picnic table and pours steaming hot coffee out of a thermos flask into two cups; one for him, one for you. Despite your morning coffee, you gladly accept the little tin cup and sip on the hot liquid.

You both drink your coffee in silence. You don't mind it, in fact, you almost embrace it. Everyone else you come across in Jackson is just so happy all the time, so open and welcoming and smiling that it makes you sick. Joel's stoic silence, in comparison, is refreshing.

"So, you don't talk very much, do you." You blow on your coffee as you watch his face. He turns to you and his eyes lock onto yours where they remain for a moment. "Not really, no," he says finally. "You mind that?"

You can't help but scoff. "God, no. It's refreshing, really. Everyone else is just so... chipper, like, all the time. It's maddening." You wrinkle your nose in disgust and hear a deep chuckle coming from Joel's chest. "That they are."

When you've both finished your coffee, you get back on your horses to start on the remaining half of your patrol. It starts snowing softly, a few flakes here and there, and for a moment, you almost feel something resembling peace.

"Aren't you supposed to be bonding with me?" you quickly say before the feeling can take root. Joel looks over at you. "You heard that, hu?" "Sure did." Now it's Joel's turn to scoff. "Then you heard it was Tommy's idea, not mine."

You purse your lips but nod, your pursed lips eventually growing into a smile. "I can work with that." It's the last words you speak while the two of you control the perimeter. Even though you're not looking, you can tell Joel's smiling out of the corner of your eye.

Back at the stables, you help take the saddles off of your horses and brush them down. You're on your way to leave when you hear Joel behind you. "Y'know, this place really is safe." You don't turn around, but have stopped walking, an indicator that you're listening. "Didn't believe it m'self when I got here, but Tommy's right. They got a good thing goin' here."

"They?" You've turned around after all. Your eyes seek out his. "Thought you're a member of Jackson?"

A dry smile plays around Joel's lips. He turns from you to pick up one of his horse's behind legs. "Sure am. 'S just they're better than I am, is all," he says as he scrapes the bottom of the hoof.

You wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn't. The silence stretches between you two and it becomes clear that he's said all there is to say. "Alright." You turn and start your walk home, back to your house that's too big for just one person, but is one of the few places where people will leave you alone. Safe or not safe, it's the only place you've got to go to.

Joel straightens as you leave the stables. He watches as you make your way across the snowy grounds, away from the people and back towards the residential area. He watches and wonders what your story is before returning to the task at hand. None of my business, he tells himself and resumes his work.

Series Masterlist - Mobile Masterlist

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radioactiveparker · 2 years

Text

Mistletoe and Wine - Eddie Munson X Fem!Reader (Smut)

Summary - You meet your ex boyfriend under the mistletoe at a Christmas party

Warnings - Strong language / Use of Y/N / Cheating / Unprotected sex (PiV) / Biting / Choking / Overstimulation / Creampie

Word Count - 6.2k

A/N - This is my first smut so please go easy on me haha xxx

-----

The warmth of his blood rushed to his rosy cheeks as Eddie stepped inside from the biting weather. The first fall of snow had begun earlier that day, sticking and clumping almost instantly to create a thick, cottony blanket on the ground. While the roads had unfortunately become mounds of brown slush, Hawkins was still a depiction of a winter wonderland. It was getting late. There weren't many cars on the road, just the odd few careful drivers making their way back home after a long shift. The snow glittered under the yellow glow of street lights. It was still falling, although not as heavy as it had been. Snowflakes gently swirled to the ground like powdered sugar, denuding leafless trees and dressing them up in white for the festive occasion.

Stomping the snow from his boots, Eddie wiped his shoes on the doormat as he removed his thick coat and woolly scarf, before placing them on the hangers. It was his favourite scarf - the only scarf he had ever owned. It was just a plain red colour, but it was your favourite colour. He remembered you telling him the story of how you had begged your mother to knit one for him, claiming your mother's scarfs were the best way to keep warm. And well, you weren't wrong.

His skin tingled from the warmth of Steve's house, which was like a furnace in comparison to outside. Steve had gone all out this year. Being the host for the holiday party had certainly gone to his head. There was sparkling tinsel and Christmas lights everywhere, winding down the staircase and hanging on the door frames. And that was just in the entryway. The sweet smell of pine and oven-baked goodies led him towards the living room where there was a muted chatter and Christmas songs were playing loudly on the radio.

Christmas is an event that brings people together to celebrate the holidays and blessings of the year.

And it's also an excuse to eat a lot of food, party, and get wasted.

At least those were Eddie's plans, until a certain someone had to ruin it.

Eddie made his way inside the living room, receiving a few greetings from people who hadn't been wrapped up in conversation. There wasn't nearly as many people as he thought there was going to be. Steve was well known for his parties back in high school, inviting anyone and everyone whether he knew them or not. But this was more of a small gathering. He noticed Robin talking to Nancy and Jonathan, and the group of six kids all trying to squeeze onto one couch. Well, they weren't kids anymore, all of them having left high school now, but the name just stuck with all of you. Eddie stepped further inside, trying to hide the look of awe on his face when he eyed the decorations. More lights, more tinsel, garlands, ribbons, and streamers hanging on the ceiling. And to top it all off, the most brilliant tree he had ever seen.

But that wasn't the most beautiful thing in the room tonight.

Eddie's heart almost stopped when he locked his eyes on to you. You hadn't noticed him yet and he was able to take all of you in. You were stood in front of the tree in between Steve and a man he had never met before, who was being a little too handsy for Eddie's liking. The light of the tree accentuated your silhouette and cast you in a warm glow. If Eddie hadn't known any better, he would have thought he had died and gone to heaven; you looked like an angel. He admired how the light reflected off of the red sequins on your dress. It was a short dress, showing off the length of your legs, and the puffy sleeves rested below your shoulders, showing off your collar bones and a teasing amount of cleavage. He quickly diverted his eyes away and up to your face before he was caught. You were wearing make-up. He would never deny that you looked gorgeous, but it wasn't something that he was used to on you. Your eyes were light and smoky, and your lips were a tasty bright scarlet to match your dress. You had never worn that much make-up in the years that you had dated. He wondered what had changed your mind. He watched your lips stretch into a genuine smile that had managed to replicate itself onto his own. He had always thought your smile was contagious and had even joked that there would be swarms of people in hospitals who had caught the disease that was your smile.

Only, his smile didn't last as long when he saw who had made you smile. The stranger he had mentioned before had his arm around your waist, pulling you in to kiss your temple. He was the perfect portrayal of tall, dark and handsome, dressed in smart pants and a button up shirt beneath a leather jacket. It seemed you had a type. Your left hand rested itself on his chest as he pulled you closer, and Eddie saw the unmistakable glimmer of a ring on your finger.

His heart sank to his stomach. For five years he had been waiting for you. And in those five years you had managed to move on, unlike Eddie, who had been longing for a chance to take you back. But now, seeing you with him, all of that waiting had been for nothing. Eddie still loved you, but that ring on your finger was the nail in his coffin. He was forced to put it to rest, because you didn't love him anymore. You were in love with someone else and Eddie had to let go. Not the love that he felt so strongly for you, but the expectation that he would receive the same love from you again.

But that would be easier said than done.

He almost felt sick to his stomach that someone got to have you the way he had. They got to feel the softness of your skin, the taste of your lips, the silkiness of your hair. He wasn't even aware that you were seeing someone else, having not been in contact with you since you left Hawkins to go to college. You had finished college a year ago, but you hadn't come back - until now. He'd always had it planned out in his head; he would find out you were coming home, he'd race to the airport and arrive just in time to see you get off of the plane, you would see him and run into his arms and kiss him and hug him and tell him how much you loved and missed him. But reality is often disappointing.

He couldn't stay here any longer. Seeing you happy with someone that wasn't him was enough to shatter his heart into dust. He couldn't bare the thought of having to talk to you anymore, especially because you would no doubt introduce him to your new fiancé, who he wanted nothing to do with. He wasn't up to watching his world crumble around him. With a heavy heart, Eddie made the decision to leave.

He did a complete 180 and sped-walked to where he had left his coat and scarf, ignoring some of the funny looks he had received. He tried his best to keep his tears at bay when he saw the concerned look on Dustin's face, who had watched him leave. Quickly, he swiped on his coat, not even putting it on properly before opening the front door. He was in two minds whether to leave the scarf off, but when a wintery gust blew from the open door, he decided to wrap it around his neck.

"Eddie?"

He paused in his tracks with wide eyes, trying to fight the palpitations in his heart. Taking a deep breath, he reluctantly turned to face you.

"Hey Y/N, how are you?" He noticed your eyebrows rise at his unintentional enthusiasm.

"I'm great." You didn't hide your confusion as you stepped towards him. "Are you good? You seem a little tense."

"I'm good, great even!" He cleared his throat awkwardly. "I was just gonna ... get some air."

"Oh, well I was hoping we would be able to catch up before we leave, there's someone I'd like for you to meet. It'll only take like two seconds."

You were looking at him with those beautiful eyes of yours and he so desperately wanted to say yes. "I-I can't."

"You can't? Look Eddie, I know how you can get meeting new people but he's ... Nice. I think you'll like him." You sounded like you were trying to convince yourself too.

"No, Y/N."

"Why not?"

He was hopelessly raking his brain for any excuse, but his thoughts were clouded by those three little words; I love you, I love you, I love you.

"Because I can't stand seeing you with someone else." The words just fell from his lips. He knew he couldn't lie to you. You could see right through him. "I don't care how nice he is, I just want you to be with me." He might as well go all the way now. " ... I still love you."

"That's not fair, Eddie. You can't just say that to me. Not when you were the one who told me to leave."

"Sorry, but it's not like there's a shut off button to end my feelings for you. I didn't mean for it to be like this. I never wanted you to leave me to go to college."

"Then why did you tell me to go?"

"Because I wanted you to be happy. You were so excited to go to college, I didn't want to hold you back. I just didn't think we would lose touch like we did."

You couldn't believe it. After all of this time you thought he had just used it as an excuse to break up with you. Things were rocky between you before you went off to college. You were arguing more and giving each other the silent treatment more often than not, you thought for sure that it was going to be the end. Despite all of that, you hadn't left things on a bad note. He had still told you he loved you and that he would miss you when you left. But you thought it was to cushion the blow for when he eventually broke up with you. You wanted to kick yourself. You could have had him all this time, but you only had yourself to blame. You didn't have to latch on to the first boy who made a move on you because you were scared of being alone. Eddie was yours. He was still yours. You could have died with happiness, only this made everything more complicated. You were engaged, but to a man you didn't love. Well, you still loved him, but not nearly as much as you loved Eddie. Charlie, your fiancé, had reminded you so much of Eddie with his leather jackets and similar taste in music. But he just wasn't the same. Eddie was irreplaceable.

Eddie could tell exactly what you were thinking, he always did. You still loved him, or had some kind of feelings for him at least. His heart was racing - there was still a chance for him to be with you. There was a look of relief on your face. Relief mixed with guilt. He knew why. You blamed yourself for the break up because you were the one that had truly pushed him away. But he was to blame too. There had been a serious lack of communication between the two of you. But you were also guilty for feeling these things for him because you were with someone else. If he was being completely honest, Eddie didn't care much for how your fiancé was feeling, as long as you were okay.

"It's not your fault, you know? I can tell you're thinking it." His voice was deep and genuine.

"But it is, Eddie. I pushed you away because I thought you were trying to break up with me, but you just wanted me to be happy. What kind of girlfriend does that?" Your eyes welled.

His heart jolted hearing you refer to yourself as his girlfriend. He had missed that so much. He had missed you so much.

"Hey, it's my fault too. I should've tried more, or communicated better." He brought you closer, pulling you in for a hug.

You still wore the same perfume.

He still wore the same cologne.

You melted into his touch, relishing in the familiarity of it all. His arms were strong and warm around you, but you were longing for more. You felt as though you could meld into him as you pressed your cheek to his chest, feeling his lips on the top of your head. You were in absolute solace. It was so perfect that tears sprung in your eyes again.

Pulling away, you looked up to stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks and ruining your make-up, when you noticed a small plant with white berries hanging in the doorway; mistletoe.

Eddie's eyes followed yours.

"What do you say," He looked to you, stepping closer and taking his hands in yours, "one more, for old times sake?"

He could tell by the look in your eyes that you wanted to as much as he did, despite your initial hesitance. His lips brushed against yours, as delicate as a butterfly wing, just long enough for you to inhale his breath. You knew exactly what he was doing. Eddie was always one to tease. Impatient, you pressed your lips softly to his and it was like you were five years younger. His happy sigh vibrated against your lips as he tasted you. He quickly became addicted to the fruity taste of mulled wine that lingered on your mouth and he brought a hand to your cheek, trying to pull you closer to taste more. Your palms rested on his shoulders as his lips parted slightly, allowing your tongue to slip inside. His tongue was silky against yours as he tilted his head to the side and opened his mouth wider. The two of you moved like clockwork; perfectly in sync, like you were made for each other. You could practically feel the flame igniting in your hearts, burning brighter and brighter with every peck of your lips.

But that flame was quickly blown out when footsteps echoed towards the two of you. Reluctantly, you pulled away, taking a step away from Eddie who quickly turned away to wipe the red lipstick from around his mouth.

"Babe, you ready to go?" Charlie approached you with a smile, not paying attention to your flustered expression.

Your heart throbbed for him. He didn't deserve that. Charlie was a good man. Despite being a little vanilla and a major workaholic, he had always been well mannered and had yet to treat you disrespectfully. Besides you had moved on from Eddie, or at least you thought you had.

He eyed Eddie, who had turned back around, his fingers still lingering on his swollen lips

"I don't believe we've met, I'm Charles, Y/N's fiancé." He held out his hand for Eddie to shake.

Eddie stared at his open palm unimpressed before firmly clasping his hand in his. Probably a little too firmly. "Eddie."

You didn't miss the small wince that Charlie tried to hide as he shook his hand, staring intently at each other. You began to worry at their behaviour, thinking Charlie had saw you two and he was trying to prove a point that you were his. But he never said anything, they just stared at each other for a good few seconds. You looked between them like you were waiting to see who would lash out first, but it never happened.

"Thank you guys for coming." Steve beamed, jogging towards the three of you, wanting to see his guests out like the good host he was. Your shoulders relaxed as Steve broke the tension. He gave you a quick hug and Charlie received another firm handshake.

Charlie retrieved your coats, sliding yours around your shoulders before pulling his on and saying a quick goodbye. He was already halfway out the door, pulling you along with his hand in yours. Your stomach sank, he seemed angry, like he was in a hurry to get you alone so he could have a go at you. It was a side of him you had yet to see - that you didn't want to see. You pulled against his hand, looking back at Steve and Eddie.

"Thank you for having us, Steve. I really enjoyed tonight. Merry Christmas!"

You freed your hand from Charlie's causing him to look at you in confusion. You took one step forward, keeping your eyes on Eddie, who was staring intently at the ground.

"Eddie," He looked at you with a hopeful glimmer in his eyes, like he was asking you to just drop everything to be with him, "it was good to see you again."

He tried to hide his disappointment with a tight lipped smile. "You too. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas."

With a sad smile, you grabbed Charlie's hand again as he led you to his car. You reached the car first, wanting to get inside and out of the cold, and wanting to get this argument over with. You opened the car door, pausing before getting in to watch Eddie and Steve disappear behind the front door. There was something about it that felt like that was the last time you were ever going to see him. There was a small part of you that thought maybe it was for the best, but you couldn't get him out of your head. The two of them made you feel guilty. It was like you were standing in the middle of a road, trying to decide which side wouldn't get you ran over.

Your thoughts were cut off when Charlie pushed you against the side of the car, pressing his body into yours and kissing along the side of your neck. You gasped, trying to move away as the handle of the back door dug into your spine.

"What are you doing?" You were shocked at his actions, he had never been this forward before. You tried to push him off of you.

"You looked so good tonight, I just couldn't wait." He said it like it was obvious. Maybe he wasn't angry after all.

"Can we please get in the car?" You asked, though it wasn't really a question.

He smirked at you as though you had asked him to take you home and fuck you. But you weren't in the mood tonight. He gave you a quick peck on the lips and jogged to the other side of the car. You had to fight the urge to wipe your mouth as you sat in the passenger seat. Your lips were still tingling after your kiss with Eddie and you felt as though Charlie had tainted the feeling you were trying so desperately to savour.

You folded your arms, looking mournfully at Steve's house as Charlie reversed out of the driveway. You stared at it for as long as you could, imagining Eddie running out of the front door and chasing you down the street - until you turned a corner and it was out of sight.

"You good?" Charlie looked at you and you wished he would keep his eyes on the road.

"I'm fine." You replied bluntly.

"Is this about that Freddie guy? Did he say something to upset you?"

"What? No. and his name's Eddie"

"You sure?" He ignored your correction. "I saw how he was looking at you, I thought that maybe he had tried something."

"No, I'm fine - wait, how was he looking at me?"

"Like he was sad, like he missed you, like-like he ... loved you." He was trying to hide his jealousy.

You shut your eyes, hoping your lids would block your tears. Of course you already knew this, Eddie had told you himself, but there was something about Charlie telling you this that made it feel more real. He had seen it himself, Eddie loved you so much that he couldn't even hide it.

"I hope he knows he's got no chance." Charlie laughed. "You're mine, aren't you baby? I've got you all to myself."

You flinched slightly as he clasped his had on your bare thigh, rubbing his thumb softly along your skin as he turned another corner. While it was a tender gesture, you wanted nothing more than to slap his hand away. You didn't of course, he was your fiancé after all. You let it sit there, burning into your thigh. You hated how he called you his. He didn't own you, you were your own person not some kind of object someone could possess. You found yourself thinking how Eddie would never say he owned you. Although a part of you didn't mind if Eddie did say it. You knew Eddie wouldn't mean it the way Charlie did.

You couldn't help but compare the two in your head. Charlie was a wonderful man when you really got to know him and you did love him, but you weren't in love with him. You had almost forgotten what it was like to be in love, having clouded your own judgement by making yourself believe your relationship with Charlie was the perfect depiction of true love. But seeing Eddie tonight; smelling his familiar cologne, feeling the warmth of his skin, the softness of his lips, had helped you remember what love could really feel like. But you couldn't just drop everything because you had rekindled an old flame. You had plans to make, a wedding to prepare. You were getting married. You couldn't just leave all of that behind, could you? Could you?

You quickly wiped the tear from your cheek before Charlie could see. It was only when he started to trail his hand further up your thigh, did you finally make your decision.

"Stop the car."

"Huh?"

"Please stop the car." You tried to hide the wobble in your voice.

Charlie stepped his foot on the break, panicking when he saw the tears in your eyes. He repeatedly asked you if you were okay as you unbuckled your seatbelt and stepped out of the car. The cold wind stung your cheeks and whipped your hair, but you brushed it off and made your way down the street, back towards Steve's house.

"Where are you going?" He followed you out of the car, nearly slipping on snow when he tried to catch up.

"I'm sorry." You sobbed, not even turning to face him. "I can't do this anymore."

He didn't follow you, too baffled and heartbroken for his brain to catch up with what was happening. He just watched as you walked down the street, pulling your jacket closer to your body and wiping your tears on the sleeve.

Your steps were getting quicker. First you were walking, then speed walking, then jogging, and now you were doing a full on sprint back to Steve's house - back to Eddie. You were thankful you had decided to wear pumps instead of heels, and that the snow hadn't frozen solid yet to the point it was slippery ice. Your breath clouded in front of you, and your adrenaline kept you warm against the biting winds. It felt as though you couldn't get there quick enough. You were well and truly out of breath when you reached Steve's house, banging on the door wildly.

There was a quiet 'alright, I'm coming' before Steve swung the door open.

"Whoa, Y/N is everything alright?"

You were bent over panting, looking like you had been dragged through a hedge backwards with your wild hair thanks to the wind.

"Where's Eddie?"

Steve furrowed his brows in confusion before replying, "He just left, he said he was going back to his place for an early night"

"Could you give me a ride?"

-----

Steve had hounded you with questions the entire journey, but you had stayed quiet. You feared you would throw up the second you opened your mouth to explain. This had been one of the most life changing decisions you had ever made. You had removed yourself from a wealthy family with a successful business. With Charlie you would never of had to work another day in your life. You could have been comfortable being his little house wife, but that just wasn't the life you wanted anymore. You didn't want a life without Eddie in it. With Eddie there would be risks, you knew that, but that was all part of the thrill he gave you.

But right now your heart was in your mouth as you stood at the door of Eddie's trailer. Nothing had changed in the five years that you had been gone. He was still living in his Uncle Wayne's trailer with the same rusty old van parked outside. You wondered if Wayne would be home. You had missed him dearly too, but when you noticed his car wasn't parked outside, you figured he was still doing his same old night shifts at the plant. It was crazy how much nostalgia this place gave you, even if it was only five years ago, but it had felt like a lifetime. There was a comfort in it almost that had gave you enough courage to knock on his door with a shaky hand.

Your stomach was doing somersaults when you heard movement from behind the door. You could hear his footsteps getting louder as he got closer, and you debated whether or not you should just turn and run.

But it was too late for that, when Eddie swung the door open, looking at you in surprise.

"Y/N? What are you doing here?"

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words were coming out. You wanted to tell him everything all at once, but it was too much for your brain to handle. Instead, you took the risk and decided to show him how you felt instead.

Bravely, you stood on your tiptoes and forced your lips to his. Despite being taken aback, Eddie reciprocated very quickly, poking out his tongue to taste the sweet wine on your lips again that he had been craving. He placed a hand on your waist, guiding you inside before shutting the door and pressing you against it. His lips ghosted across the skin of your neck, not only torturing you, but himself too. He wanted nothing more than to ravish you, mark you as his. But it was worth it to see the goose bumps rise on your skin as you released the prettiest sigh he had ever heard.

"Please, Eddie."

His finger touched your neck as he moved your hair from off your shoulder to expose more of your neck. His hands went down to your shoulders, where he pushed your coat down the length of your arms until it fell to the floor. His nose pressed to the junction between your neck and shoulder, breathing in deeply to familiarise himself with your scent again.

"Fuck, I've missed you."

His hands found yours, but his body stiffened when he felt the cold metal ring on your finger.

He held up your hand so he could see the ring better. It was delicate and light. The jewels had been woven into the band with careful precision, with the large diamond taking centre stage. It was a stunning ring - expensive. Something that he wouldn't be able to give you. Noticing the sad look in his eyes, you removed the ring from your finger without hesitation. You dropped it on top of your coat, reminding yourself to give it back to Charles. If you ever had the courage to see him again.

Your heart fluttered at his downward smile. You could tell he appreciated your actions when he intertwined your fingers and met his lips with yours again.

For the first time that night you felt free. The ring had tethered you to a man you didn't love and now the rope had been cut. There was nothing holding you back from kissing Eddie as much as you wanted. There was nothing holding you back from loving Eddie as much as you wanted. You untangled your hands to thread them in his hair, pulling ever so slightly in the way you knew he loved. You were practically trembling with excitement when he moaned against your lips, causing a wetness to pool between your legs.

"Eddie?" You mumbled.

"Yeah, sweetheart?" He began trailing kisses down your neck and you almost gasped from how good he made you feel.

"Show me how much you missed me."

He didn't waste another second, grabbing the back of your thighs and hauling them around his waist before kissing you again. He blindly manoeuvred around his trailer as he took you to his bedroom.

He clumsily dropped you onto his bed, stumbling over the messy clothes he had strewn over the floor. Everything was still the same. It was like you had never left and you absolutely loved it. He almost collapsed on top of you when he jumped onto his bed, causing you to giggle. Chuckling, he took your chin between his thumb and finger before he pressed his lips to yours again, kissing you deeply like he couldn't get enough of you. Your hands tugged at the bottom of his shirt, freeing his pale torso. Gently you glided your fingertips down his chest to the band of his trousers. You grabbed onto his belt loops to use as leverage as you arched your back, pressing your hips together. His hand made quick work on your dress zipper, sliding it all the way down before doing the same with your dress. He chucked it to the floor somewhere before latching onto your naked breasts. His tongue circled around your nipples before sucking on them tenderly, causing you to release a breathless whimper.

"Eddie I need you." You begged, fidgeting with desperation.

He smirked at you, kissing down your stomach to the band of your panties. He gently dragged them down the length of your legs and you hissed when the cold air made contact with your wet, throbbing pussy. You gasped when Eddie placed a soft kiss to your clit, but that wasn't what you meant when you told him you needed him.

"No, I need you now."

You could see the light bulb turn on in his eyes. Sticking out his tongue in concentration, he quickly unbuckled his belt and pulled down his jeans along with his boxers. Your mouth was watering at the sight of his dick. It had been a while since you had had good sex. Charles was okay, but he was way too vanilla for you, and you weren't very comfortable bringing up your kinks to him. Not like Eddie though. Eddie knew you inside and out, literally.

He pressed the tip of his dick to your entrance, collecting all of your juices so he was slick enough to slide right in. You winced at his girth as he stretched you wide.

"You can take it, baby. You've done it before."

You whimpered at his encouragement, relaxing your walls so he had less of a restraint. You could feel every ridge of his cock as he slowly slid inside of you, taking the time to let you adjust.

"That's it, baby. That's my girl."

You gripped onto his shoulders, giving them a little squeeze to let him know you were ready. He groaned at your tightness as he pulled himself in and out of your wet pussy. Every moan that left your lips gave him the motivation to plunge deeper inside of you, the curve of his dick hitting you in all of the right places.

He rested his head in the nook of your neck, biting every now and then to muffle a moan on particularly pleasurable thrusts.

His thrusts were deep and hard, like he was desperate to get impossibly closer to you. Being inside you wasn't enough for him. He wanted you to become one. Two hearts on a collision course to be come one in the same, to beat as one. He pressed his chest flat against yours and rested his weight on you, like you would eventually merge when you reached climax. You forced his lips to yours, which he gratefully accepted, breathing him in deeply and moaning into his mouth.

"Eddie, Eddie, Eddie." You gasp, raking your nails down his back.

"Fuck, what is it sweetheart?" He moans as he pressed his lips to your neck again.

You grip your hands in his hair, pulling harshly which caused him to moan once more. When you didn't reply to his question, he brought his head back up to look at you. Your eyes were squeezed tight in pleasure and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. He wondered if he had imagined you moaning his name, but when you continued to mutter it under your breath and between moans, he understood. He was fucking you so good you could think of nothing but him. No other words could come out of your mouth because your brain couldn't think if them. He had brainwashed you with his dick and he couldn't help the smug smirk on his lips.

"That good, baby? You like it when I fuck you like this?"

Your eyes rolled back, his words going straight to your core.

He wrapped his hand around your throat. "I asked you a question, sweetheart."

You nodded, letting out a pathetic 'yes' as he applied more pressure to your neck. Your cunt fluttered around his cock. Using his other hand, he pressed his fingers to your clit, rubbing tight circles that made you cry out in pleasure. You could feel your climax brewing inside of you, making you raise your hips to meet his thrusts to reach it quicker.

"That's good baby, keep doing that."

You did as you were told for as long as you could before your legs started to tremble. Your toes curled as you come undone, squeezing Eddie so tight he had to stop himself from cumming on the spot. He wanted this to last for as long as he could, but you were so fucking beautiful it made it difficult. He loved the way your eyes rolled back and how your face went red from moaning. The sheen of sweat that covered your body made you look so enticing. He kissed over your chest again, tasting the salt on your skin, still continuing to plough into you restlessly.

"You're so fucking perfect."

You wanted to cry at how good he made you feel. Ramming his cock into your overly sensitive cunt made your second orgasm approach quicker than you had anticipated. You could feel him twitching inside of you and you knew that he was holding back.

"Please cum for me, baby." You begged him. "Please, I'm so close. I want you to cum inside me."

"Jesus Christ, baby, you can't say shit like that." His eyes shut tight in concentration, trying desperately not to cum.

But you wanted him to. You wanted to cum on his cock while he came inside of you. You gripped onto the wrist of the hand that was still around your neck, forcing him to turn his attention to you. You looked deep into his eyes.

"Please fill me up, Eddie. Fill me up when I cum on your cock."

He thrusted a few more times, his cock gliding effortlessly in your juices. He moved both hands to your hips, lifting them up and driving deeper than you thought he could. You gasped and moaned freely without the pressure on your throat which spurred Eddie on. His thrusts became irregular but he still managed to goad another orgasm from you. Your walls clenched tightly around him as you screamed his name, definitely loud enough for the neighbours to hear. He stilled, pulling your hips flush against his as he emptied himself inside of you with a moan. Your pulsing walls were enough to milk him. You keened at the feeling of his warm, sticky cum filling you to the brim.

The two of you stayed like that for a few minutes, his softening cock plugging his cum inside of you. You just stared at each other like you couldn't believe that had actually happened. The both of you were still panting wildly until Eddie finally pulled out of you, collapsing beside you with a groan of exhaustion.

You bit your lip between your teeth when you felt his cum slowly leaking out from deep within you.

"Eddie?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"I love you."

"I love you too, baby. You have no idea how badly I wanted to hear you say that."

You giggled at him, wrapping an arm around his torso and resting your head on his chest. You were both still hot and sticky, and you knew that you would clean up soon, but you just wanted to stay like this for a little while longer. Just the two of you pressed against one another, no barriers between you, enjoying each others company after some long waited love making. Being here with Eddie, like this, you knew that this would be your forever.

Eddie pressed a kiss to the top of your head and you stared up at him, a loving smile resting on your lips.

"Don't smile at me like that, you know it drives me crazy."

You let out another laugh. Yeah, he was definitely your forever.

"Merry Christmas, Eddie."

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart."

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #joseph quinn

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sleepynoons · 1 month

Text

To Hell and Back

Vignettes of mourning and bereavement over a period of two years.

After grieving the loss of your husband for over a decade, is there truly hope for recovery? And if there is, what is the difference between hope and insanity?

ukitake jushiro x f!reader, angst, nsfw?

word count: ~3,600

cw: heavy manga spoilers, death, explicit descriptions of suffering from grief + mental disorders (severe depression, etc.), extreme mental deterioration, alcohol, throwing up + dry-heaving, mention of insomnia, mention of sexual content, allusions to a lack of eating + frail health, hurt/no comfort

notes: lmk if i missed anything in the warnings! first time writing something so heavy, so the warnings + tags may be inadequate.

“UKITAKE-SAMA, YOUR tea is here.” A shinigami you forget the name of places a steaming cup next to you. From a quick glance, you can see a stalk floating vertically in the drink. Jushiro will be pleased to hear about it.

You nod but do not touch the cup. It is rude to drink and eat before your guests, and you are still waiting on them to arrive. Quietly, you watch the snow drift from the overcast sky, flakes clumping together and forming a thick coat over the ground, surrounding roofs, and trees. How many winters has it been?

Around the bend, you hear rapid footsteps. It must be them.

“Ukitake-sama, sincere apologies for our tardiness.”

Turning your gaze to your left, you see Rukia-san and Abarai-san coming to view, noses and ears tinged red. Smiling softly, you beckon them to relax and sit on the engawa with you. They listen obediently and wait with bated breath for your next move.

“No worries at all. I am glad to see the two of you are well.”

Rukia-san smiles cheerfully. “Yes, we are doing very well.”

“And how are you adjusting to your duties as captain?”

“I am not captain yet, Ukitake-sama.”

Abarai-san barks a quick laugh. “She’s already very busy, trust me. The appointment is in a few days, right?”

Rukia-san huffs, and you chuckle. “I am sure the 13th Division will be in good hands.”

A gust of wind passes through the corridor, and you shiver slightly at the biting chill. Jushiro should have reminded you to take a coat with you today.

“Ukitake-sama, please, take this.” Rukia-san removes her shawl and places it over your shoulders. Her hands hover over your frame before she sits back down. “Forgive me for possibly overstepping, but are you eating well, Ukitake-sama?”

What did you eat this lunch? For that matter, did you even eat? How about last night? Hm, for some reason, you cannot recall. You shrug, indifferent. You have always been prone to forgetting your meals without Jushiro reminding you.

A silence falls among the three of you, and the snow picks up. You feel yourself smiling at the downpour of snow. So white, so pure. Jushiro always longed to walk in the snow, but his illness disabled him from spending an extended amount of time outside. While you are sure many of the shinigami are groaning at the weather, you know Jushiro would have found a way to celebrate it.

Abarai-san sighs a deep, hefty breath. “Ukitake-sama, if you’d like, would you join us for dinner? We’re having shabu shabu for the first time this year. I’m sure that’ll warm you up right away.”

It has been a while since the last time you had something so homey. You suppose Jushiro would not mind you spending a dinner with someone else. “I will take on your offer. Thank you for having me, Rukia-san, Abarai-san.”

The two bow before getting up, making their leave. They bid you farewell and several reminders to take care of your health.

Internally, you scoff. You need to be mindful of your health? Please, you are fine and have always been, aside from nasty injuries gained during training and missions. Besides, the one you all should be worried about is Jushiro.

Ah, but there is no need for that either anymore.

–

You wake up late. You only know because the incessant light of the sun is bleeding through the cracks of the shoji screens. You even got the screens filtered to reduce the morning brightness, but nothing can dim the flames of spring.

As usual, you are alone in bed, wrapped and tangled and curled in the giant blankets of your futon. Jushiro should be coming back anytime now, you think. You roll over onto his futon and blindly feel around for the book that he places by his pillow every night. It is always something different because he can never seem to finish one. You wonder what he is reading this time, but nothing is there. In fact, as sleep escapes you, you realize his futon is fully made.

Untouched.

Sobs begin to wrack your body, but you dare not let your tears and snot smear Jushiro’s bedding. You have not washed it once since, and even now, his scent has almost completely, if not already, faded. If you wash it, more traces of his aliveness will disappear and you cannot tolerate that even more.

He was living, breathing, eating, sleeping, training, laughing, loving. He was – is – more than just a stone headpiece sitting underneath a gazebo, and you feel like everyone around you is forgetting that, only speaking of him in the past tense and as a distant, fleeting spark of a memory. And that makes you deeply, profoundly remorseful.

Because you are also only able to recall him now. How did he smell? You only remember it was a combination of tea leaves, anesthesia, and soil, a poor, inadequate description you came up with when he asked you decades ago. How about his hair length? Jushiro kept it long for centuries, but he always had you trim it so that it never extended past his hip. And the sound of his voice? Not even your memories can imitate the way he pronounced your name, bantered with Kyoraku, commandeered his squad.

Moments like these are arguably the hardest. Not only are you overcome with grief, but you are also frustrated and restless, unable to do anything because there is nothing to do. There is no solution to this mourning. You would never kill these feelings for Jushiro, but that means this torment is inescapable, inevitable. You want this sadness to pass, become the silver lining to some cloud, rejoice instead in the legacy he has left behind. But leaving this phase would mean enough time has passed, and with enough time, you would forget much about him.

You should have recorded more of your moments with your late husband. But you can only sigh and harbor more resentment towards yourself in your heart.

By now, the tears have stopped. You are back in your futon, only to bury yourself under the covers.

–

“Class is dismissed!”

The shinigami disperse, heading to grab their belongings lining the walls of the garden. As you have retired from your post in the Gotei 13, you are now a kido instructor for new court guard cadets. The young ones are promising, you think.

Surprisingly, the classes of shinigami are growing. You had thought the war with the Quincies would deter future talent, but the damages and casualties seemed to have only bolstered interest. Interest in learning kido has also increased, no doubt due to Aizen’s influence.

Jushiro was plenty good at kido, too, you think bitterly. He just never had the opportunity to demonstrate his strength.

In fact, your first encounter with your late husband was at a kido training session that he was leading. With gentle encouragement and precise guidance, he taught you how to perform the casts you know by heart, and you continued to seek him out with questions and concerns until his appointment as captain. To say you missed your one-on-ones with him was an extreme understatement. You missed his soft laughs in the face of your snarky remarks and the fleeting touches of his fingertips against your tense arms. You did not think he would forget you, but you were not sure if you would ever be able to get so close to him again. Your doubt quickly dissipated, though, when you were accepted into the Gotei 13. It seemed he had chosen you to be placed into the 13th Division under him.

You are brought back from your reminiscing when you hear an angry cry. “Ukitake-sama is our instructor! How can you say that about her?”

The crowd breaks into waves of murmuring at the outburst. You look towards the right wall, and there you see a red-haired little girl being held back by two of her classmates. Like a cartoon character, she is kicking her feet, trying to wrangle her arms free, spewing insults at two other students who only roll their eyes.

This is nothing new. To be fair, ever since Jushiro’s sacrifice, you have only done the bare minimum to contribute to Soul Society, a stark contrast to the committed soldier you once were who went above and beyond. Many were shocked by your transformation and have begun to bear annoyance towards you for being a deadweight. You still receive many benefits for your many decades of service, and you remain in Jushiro’s old quarters in the 13th Division barracks. You are, for sure, taking up more space than a veteran should. But truly, you could care less to be noble.

You appreciate Ichika-chan’s attempts to save your face, regardless. You should give her some of the candies you store in your sleeves on her way out.

“Enough.” Everyone is now looking at you. You stare directly at the two shinigami who defaced you. What should you do with them?

Or rather, what would Jushiro do with them?

The answer is too obvious. You motion them to come to you, and they trudge over with lowered heads. When they come close enough, you sigh because had you acted purely out of your own volition, you would have reacted much differently.

You point at one of the students. “You are much too weak at defense. Please pay closer attention to our lessons on bakudou, and be sure to apply it during your sparring sessions.” Onto the other. “In order to summon the full force of a hado incantation, you have to call it properly. Polish your articulation, and you will experience a stronger effect.”

With that, you dismiss them again. As soon as they leave, Ichika-chan runs up to you, face blushing red (from the heat? embarrassment? or both?).

“Ukitake-sama, thank you for today’s class!”

You chuckle, adoring the young girl’s energy and brightness, and reach to take her hand in yours. You notice small callouses and blisters blooming on her palms, no doubt from practicing with her sword. Grabbing a fistful of candies, you enclose her fingers around the pile. “For you.”

A wide grin breaks on Ichika-chan’s face and she bows. “Thank you, Ukitake-sama!”

“I shall see you in a week, then.”

When all of the students finally filter out of the garden, you sit in peace. For once, the quiet is not eerie or haunting. Rather, it is much needed, a comforting break in between your classes. You still much prefer the sound of Jushiro’s chattering, but this tranquility may not be so bad either.

–

Underneath the gazebo, you bring the sake cup to your lips and down the liquid. The alcohol stings at the back of your throat, a burning sensation that muddles your brain yet pinches you awake. Across from you, a man also takes a swig, releasing a loud, uncouth exhale.

He holds up a bottle, gesturing towards you with it. “Want more?”

You shake your head. Eyes downcast, you hold onto the cup in your lap with your hands clasped around it, staring into the glossy bottom of the ceramic. You see a faint reflection of your face, but it is too shady underneath the gazebo for there to be a clear outline.

The man downs another large gulp, humming in contentment at the taste. He then sighs and adjusts his large bamboo hat. “Eleven years, huh?”

“Indeed.” You glance up, catching the eye of the Captain General of the Gotei 13. “How are you feeling, Kyoraku?”

“Ha, I should be asking you that.”

“Not a day goes by that I do not think of him.”

Kyoraku says your name gingerly, as if he is testing the mood of a spoiled, unpredictable child. “I understand. But you also need to live your life. That’s what he would want.”

You cannot hold back your voice. Close by, you know some of the other captains and their respective lieutenants are waiting for their turns to pay tribute. You are also aware that Kyoraku means no harm – in fact, he empathizes with you, something no one else can do. But still. “What he wanted was to live longer and be at peace! Do not dare to speak on his behalf! You may have been his best friend, but I was his wife, and I will not stand another shoving words into his mouth! Perhaps he does want me to live a little, be happy again. But…”

Your face feels hot. Feverish from strain, humiliation, shame. You can still hear echoes of your voice ricocheting off the walls of nearby buildings.

“Kyoraku… How are you able to carry on so easily?”

A torrent of jealousy and frustration courses through you, rushing through your veins and welling up nausea at the pit of your stomach. Why are you not able to move on? Why have you been robbed of joy and happiness, never to feel those feelings again? Are you to live such a directionless, empty life for centuries more?

Kyoraku moves from his seat to sit next to you. He pats you on the back at a slow, tempered pace. “Because I have to. Because that’s what he would want from me.”

You crumple into the commander’s side, eyes blurring and body shivering. A gust of wind blows through the gazebo, colder than normal, a sign that fall is arriving soon. Kyoraku wraps his haori over you, doing his best to shield and comfort you.

–

“How is she doing?”

“Much better! She’s been eating more and spending time with others these past two weeks.”

Kyoraku closes his eyes. Is he relieved? Yes. Is it too good to be true? Also yes.

“Commander? Is everything alright?”

Kyoraku puts on the best smile he can manage. “Yes, don’t worry about lil’ ol’ me, Kotetsu-kun. Just keep an eye on her for me, alright?”

“Yes, of course!”

The 4th Division captain bows before leaving the captain general’s office. Kyoraku waits until the doors shut with a resounding thud before he sighs deeply, worriedly. He had just seen you days ago, and it seemed there was much that was plaguing you. The likelihood of you recovering as rapidly as Kotetsu says you are is slim.

He peeks at the stack of files that Nanao-chan handed him this afternoon. But those can really wait, especially when it comes to you. Without you, there will be very few – if not, no one else – who can as vividly and intimately remember Ukitake as he can. He cannot lose the last connecting thread to his best companion. But truly, your state of mind’s very troubling. Stuck in an abyss, you wander, a ghost piloting a frail cadaver, bound to the grounds your late husband frequented when he was live. Often forgetting to eat and bathe and venture beyond your bedroom, you are withering away in real time, little pieces of your soul dying out.

At times, he can understand. Ukitake’s death left a permanent hole in his life as well, bereaving him from anyone he has given himself wholly to. Other times, though, he can’t extend any more empathy or compassion than he already has. How is it possible for you to not have anymore love or care for anything in this world? How can the loss of one person – something everyone experiences at one point in their life – disable you so much so?

But perhaps it’s a privilege that he cannot understand such enduring grief. He still has his niece, friends, and alcohol. Now that he thinks about it, you really don’t have anyone or anything else. Always keeping to yourself, you’ve been razor sharp in words and sight since he first met you; if others hadn’t already avoided you for your intimidating glare, then they were bound to be driven away by your scathing criticism and dry, sarcastic quips. Truth be told, it also took him a while to warm up to you, let alone fathom how you captured the heart of the open-minded, warm-hearted Ukitake. Kyoraku shakes his head. That’s Ukitake for you, he thinks, able to love everyone and everything.

At the end of the day, there’s a singular fundamental difference between you and Kyoraku: he has a reason to keep living, and you don’t.

He rubs at his left eye. He hopes you find one soon.

–

You have been having horrible dreams recently. More specifically, the dreams are so euphoric that they make you want to throw up when you wake up.

Jushiro appears in all of them. Sometimes, it is a recollection of your wedding day, from the ceremony in the morning to the love he made to you that night. There are also flashes of him bedridden, weakened by the intrinsic sickliness of his physicality. Last night, Jushiro and you were in a field, one so vast that you could not see beyond the rolling hills of low-hanging yellow camellia shrubs.

Both of you were stooping to admire the perennial flowers. You plucked one, tucking it behind his ear, and he laughed, doing the same for you. There was no well-trodden road or path, so the two of you meandered about at your own leisure. Strangely, though, neither of you spoke a word, only listening to the summer wind rustling through the field and the worker bees buzzing about. But you did not care at all. You just needed him by your side, just like this.

At one point, you were entranced by a particular shrub that grew taller than the rest, and while you were distracted, Jushiro had wandered far off. When you noticed the lack of his presence, you jolted up to your feet, eyes frantically searching all around, until you spotted him a couple hundred yards away behind you. He was waving his arm, calling out to you in his bright voice. “Come over here!”

Yet, before you were able to tell that you are on your way, you wake up, cold sweat seeping through your yukata.

The experience is truly nauseating, and you have had to experience it every morning for the past half-month. You would much rather become an insomniac at this point.

Regardless, you know the cause behind such dreams: the Konso Reisai ceremony is coming up.

–

The lieutenants are late. As per custom, they are to capture a Hollow in order for the ceremony to proceed. You, along with the division captains, surround Jushiro’s tombstone and wait in silence. You notice Rukia-san, who tries to smile encouragingly at you. You nod, stone-faced, barely able to reciprocate her efforts.

You are sure you look miserable. This morning, you were caught dry-heaving into the toilet by Kotetsu-san, who called Kyoraku over when you refused to leave your bathroom. With much begging and pleading, you let the commander peel you from the toilet bowl and off the floor, carrying you over to your and Jushiro’s futons to get dressed. Without the help of Rukia-san and Kotetsu-san, you would not even be dressed properly for the occasion.

Twelve years, and the grief is no less debilitating. You are depression epitomized, the personification of sadness and anger and surrender mushed into a near-corpse. The saying goes that healing is not linear, but you are sure yours is a straight trend downwards, unrelenting and deterministic in nature, never to plateau.

Suddenly, one of the captains, Soifun-san, gasps. “What is this…?”

There are black dewdrops scattered about, hanging immobilized in the air. You jerk as one appears right in front of you.

You catch a glimpse of Kyoraku unsheathing his sword, slicing a droplet faster than you can see, and then examining the bubbling matter staining the blade. “This is a will-o’-wisp from Hell.”

As he explains the will-o’-wisps and the superstition behind the Konso Reisai ceremony, you feel…

Adrenaline surging through you.

Goosebumps appearing on your arms and back.

Expectation bringing you to a dangerous high.

Hope.

Reishi too potent cannot return to Soul Society? The ceremony is dedicated solely to deceased captains? The only other option is Hell?

Does that mean… Jushiro is in Hell?

Hope.

Kyoraku concludes. “I just realized right now that this superstition might have been true.”

Hope.

You are giddy. Ecstatic. Overjoyed at the news.

For the first time since your husband’s death, you are feeling positively abundant. Hopeful. You never thought you would feel hope again.

At first, only your shoulders shake. But your clothes that hang so loosely on you can only hide so much of your shuddering frame, and the other captains begin to take notice. Your hands reach up to hold your face, one covering your eyes and the other failing to mute your laughs.

You can no longer hold back.

You cackle loudly, hunched over while laughing and giggling incessantly. Someone tells you to shut it, but you simply cannot.

Of course, this is no comedic matter. This is serious – wonderful – news! Because Jushiro’s reishi cannot be deconstructed and digested by Soul Society, it has been sent down to Hell. His soul is still intact, from what you understand. That means, in essence, he is still alive.

A miracle has occurred, you think.

Hysterical. Unrestrained. Deranged.

You can see Jushiro again. You can smell his comforting scent of tea leaves, feel the silkiness of his hair slip between your fingers, taste his lips against yours, imagine him smiling and laughing and existing in one whole piece right in front of you.

It cannot get better than this.

I am on my way, you think. I am coming over right now, Jushiro.

My beloved, I will be right there with you.

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xxnghtclls · 1 year

Text

Permission

Chapter 20

(Chapter 19; Chapter 21)

True Form Sukuna x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Graphic Depiction Of Violence

Please see Chapter 1 for tags!

Drink

The snow slowly stops falling from the sky. Trotting back to the fireplace as well, you take one of the slaps of remaining meat out of the snow. It’s frozen by now and not much is left. Sukuna must’ve eaten most of it while you were asleep.

“Great.” you mumble under your breath, as you make your way to your spot. Sitting down, you stare at the frozen chunk of meat in your hands. Feeling Sukuna’s stare, you stand back up and take the dagger that’s been stuck into the wood right next to where he is sitting. Feeling his stare, you go back, placing the meat on the fur. Kneeling down, you pierce the frozen clump as hard as you can with the blade. It doesn’t go deep, but deep enough. You shortly peek to Sukuna, seeing him watching you with a very concentrated look on his face. The corners of your lips twitch in a suppressed grin, while you sit back down, holding up the meat on the blade near the fire. Slowly the flames gently melt the ice away, but it would take a while until you can actually eat it.

He remembered my name, you think, while watching the meat.

It somehow makes you emotional. He remembered something so personal from you, despite your position as just another subordinate. Never did you feel like you meant much to anyone. Even Sukuna once made you feel like you didn’t mean anything to him and yet, he cursed you, came for you, stayed with you, remembered your name. You think about his reaction in the spring, the confused look on his face. You can’t help but smile to yourself.

Maybe he cares more than he knows.

The meat slowly thaws from the heat of the fire. Watching the ice slowly melt away, you think of the times, you had to cook for your family in the village. You weren’t bad at it, especially meat was something you could master quite well. Sometimes you would go outside and pick some herbs from the gardens. You wonder, if you could find some in these snowy woods. Wild herbs are practically everywhere, even in winter, so you want to try your luck.

You stand up and walk to Sukuna, leaving the dagger laying on the fur near the fire. His eyes following every step you make, throwing you a questioning look, as you come to a halt in front of him.

“Come.” you say, nudging your head in the direction of the trees. He hesitates.

“You want to order me around?” he cocks his eyebrow at you.

“You want to keep sitting here doing nothing?” you raise your eyebrows at him. He glares at you, before he stands up.

You make your way to the trees and soon you spot tiny, bleak bushes here and there. Sukuna moves wordlessly behind you.

“You know, I don’t know how you can always eat your dinner so bland and uncooked.” you complain, while crouching down to a bush near you. He doesn’t respond, making you turn around. Sukuna throws you an annoyed look, while crossing his arms in front of his chest. You huff softly at the sight of him, turn back around and dig a bit into the snow.

“I used to cook for my family in the village. I never told Uraume and they didn’t ask. They probably would’ve put me in the kitchen if I did. Making me cut up women for you.” you continue.

Small branches raise themselves out of the snow, little leaves decorating the stems.

“Here we go.” you whisper, as you carefully dig further along the stems of the little plant.

“What’s that?” he grumbles behind you.

“Flavour.” you breathe, as you hear him walking up to you and crouching down right next to you. His right hand reaches out for one stem and of course, he breaks it off, putting it in his mouth. You watch him in awe, as he chews on it in disgust.

Cute.

“You’ve never cooked or seasoned anything in your life, did you?” you ask him, before he spits it out of his mouth.

“Doesn’t taste like flavour to me.” he grumbles.

“Obviously.” you snort “You’re supposed to season the meat with the little leafs. Not the wood from the stem.” you explain, while you break off another one. His hand reaches for one of the tiny leafs.

Slap!

You give him a slap on his hand, preventing him to rip it off.

“Later! Let’s go back.” you say, as you stand up, ignoring his glare. Turning around, you start to walk back to where you came from. You hear him stand back up again and walk up behind you, suddenly feeling his force, as he’s grabbing you by your scarf.

“Careful.” he growls into your ear, before he pushes you back forward, making you stumble through the snow. Not expecting this reaction from him, you throw him a look, before walking in silence back to the fireplace.

Asshole.

His reaction annoys you. You didn’t meant the slap to be disrespectful. In all honesty, you just wanted him to taste the flavour on the meat and not pure. The combination is what makes it tasty. It pisses you off.

The meat is thawed by now, ready to be seasoned. Both of you sit back on their spots in silence.

You take the dagger out of the meat, the steel warmed up and helped the meat to thaw. Laying it aside, before taking the little stem you brought with you at the upper end and slide your fingers along it with your other hand, you take off the little leafs in the process. Sukuna notices your shift in mood, seeing your face grow more annoyed by the second.

Tap tap.

A sound you didn’t hear in a long time. The annoyed tapping of his nails, when he’s getting inpatient. Your hands rub the leafs into the meat, the friction already causing a soft, herby smell crawl into the air and up your nose.

Tap tap.

Suddenly you hear Sukuna stand up and walk up to you.

“Move.” he orders.

There’s plenty of space.

You shoot him a look, before you bounce your ass a bit to your right, making some room for him. Sukuna slumps down right next to you, crosses his legs, his huge figure invading your personal space without trying. His bottom pair of arms is resting inside his kimono, his upper pair now resting on his thighs. His eyes are watching you. You sigh and turn back to what you were doing with the meat. Somehow having him beside you calms you and you have to admit to yourself, that it feels good having him right next to you.

Asshole.

You decide to tease him for his bad mood earlier. The best way might be to give the slap of meat a good massage. Delicate fingers gently rubbing up and down one side of the meat, before your thumb starts to stroke soft circles at the upper end of it. Taking another pinch of little leaves, you sprinkle them on the flesh, holding it at the bottom with your left hand and start to massage the herbs into it with determined strokes with your right hand.

Crack.

Sukuna breaks a little twig he’s been fondling with, before you feel him lean into your ear.

“Nasty bitch.” he breathes.

It worked.

You remember his words, remember the situation he called you this, laying between his legs, just having spit on his upper dick. It makes you blush. He huffs, leaning back into his previous position. Being proud your teasing worked the way you wanted to, you finally pierce the blade back into the meat, holding it near the fire, carefully cooking it from all sides.

Slowly the day ends, it gets dark again. Still sitting next to each other, both of you watch the meat cook in silence. It feels special, having his body resting right next to you, feeling your arm gently brush against his, feeling his aura and warmth in a non sexual way. It makes your heart feel full.

Soon, you figure one end is cooked properly, so you blow gently to cool it a bit and take a bite.

Delicious.

It’s been a while since you’ve tasted good prepared meat, the flavour of the herbs are melting on your tongue. The hot flesh is a delight in this cold surrounding. You turn to Sukuna, who watched you taking the first bite. Without a word, you swing the meat into his direction and motioning him to take a bite. He smirks, leans down, grabbing the hilt of the dagger, enveloping his hand around your hand, his eyes locked with yours. Then he looks down at the hole where you bit off, tracing the tip of his tongue at the edge of it, so carefully, then giving the underside a soft lick, before his eyes look back into yours, as he bites a piece off. You watch his teasing, it makes you blush, makes you want to push his head between your legs, but in all honesty, you’re also very curious how he likes the taste.

“So?” you ask, while you watch him chew.

“It’s good.” he shrugs, turning back to the fire.

He loves it, you think to yourself, making you smile a little. You want to take another bite, as suddenly

crack.

This time it’s coming from inside the woods. Both of you look into the direction from where the sound came. A snarl rings through the trees and you know it’s one of those.

“You said they wouldn’t come for us.” you say, fear in your voice, as both of you stand up. His face is concentrated, his eyes scanning the area.

Green eyes light up between some branches.

“There!“ you breathe.

“It’s alone.” he says, as one of his bottom hands slips out of his kimono and pulls you to him by your scarf. “Stay close.” he breathes, as he raises his arms, forming a fire arrow in his hands. “My flames won’t harm you.”

The curse slowly crawls out of the trees, hisses at the both of you. You’re nervous, feeling his body and fire. There’s something special about him doing this, something fierce, brave. You admire it. Pressed against his torso, you look up, to see his face. A devilish smirk on his lips, his eyes shining, before he releases the arrow.

It meets the curse in it’s shoulder, but doesn’t strike it down immediately.

You watch with wide eyes, as the curse howls. It seems to become more aggressive, as it starts to run towards the both of you.

Closer.

Sukuna chuckles, bares his teeth, waiting.

Closer.

“Sukuna!” you breathe.

Closer.

“Down!” he orders in a deep voice. Your body understands and you quickly fall to your knees, shielding your head with your arms. In the same moment, with a single swing of his hand, the curse is ripped apart. Its remains fall into the snow, its body being split in 3 even slices.

Sukuna starts to laugh. It sends a chill down your spine, as you look up to him. He looks so amused. Slowly, you stand back up.

“You didn’t kill it with your first strike on purpose didn’t you?” you ask in a serious tone.

“No.” he chuckles.

“You said they wouldn’t come for us!” you blame him. Sukuna turns serious again, glares at you.

“Apparently your little bitching earlier was enough to attract it.” he spits through his teeth.

“Yeah ‘cause you couldn’t handle a tiny slap on your precious hand.” you bitch back, although you don’t really understand what he’s saying.

He looks at you sternly, his jaw clenches, before his gaze wanders back to the remains of the curse.

“Let’s drink.” he grumbles, before he walks to the cadaver.

Drink?

You look at him in confusion, while you watch him break off two of the curses legs. He takes them with him, as he walks back to you. He pushes one of the legs into your hands.

It stinks.

“What am I supposed to…?” you ask, as he slumps down on his spot against the log. He throws you a look, before he raises the leg, holds the fleshy end it over his opened mouth and presses the blood out of it. You watch his adam’s apple protude, as he leans his head back and closes his eyes, watch the blood drip into his mouth. It makes you thirsty, as you see his adam’s apple bob up and down, as he swallows. You decide to sit down in front of him, the fireplace flickering to your right. Repeating his actions, you let the blood drip down your throat as well. It tastes bitter, metallic, with a hint of death. More than a hint, to be exact.

Disgusting.

You cough, making him chuckle. Not wanting to come off weak, you drink some more. The more you swallow, the more you start to feel weird. Dizzy. Numb. And you wonder, if he feels the same.

Silence.

“You saved me. Again.” you whisper, not looking at him, although you feel his eyes pierce through you. “Thank you.” you drink.

He huffs, but doesn’t answer.

“You remembered my name.” you add quietly.

“I never said I forgot.” he grumbles, before drinking some more.

His answer makes you smile.

“Do you… do you miss the shrine?” you look up to him. “Do you miss…them?”

He looks at you, an unreadable look on his face.

A pause.

“Sounds like something only humans would do.” he finally says.

“Yea.” you whisper, as you look at him with a longing you can’t suppress. You drink. “Oh right. Sometimes I forget. You’re a monster. Oh! I mean: a cuuurrrseeee.” you try to sound spooky, while wiggling with the curses leg in front of his face. His face annoyed, but slightly amused.

The effect of the drink starts to show on you. Only on you.

“And yet you’re drinking with me.” his voice so smooth.

“How could I deny drinking curse blood with someone who demands a pregnant woman as a price for war?”

“Not the woman.” he drinks.

You pause, needing a moment to understand.

“The…? Huh! You’re gonna eat it?” your eyes widen. He cocks his eyebrow in response. The curse blood is making you giggle, forgetting all seriousness of the topic. “OF COURSE you want to eat it!” you shift a little closer to him, before taking a few more drops, your tongue slowly forgetting how to taste. “You’re such a big boyyy curseee, of course you want to eat a newborn baby”, you pat him on his stomach, talking to him like he’s a dog.

Pat. Pat. Pat.

“In there it goes. Big tummy eating up a small baby.” you feel your face getting hot, losing all sense of decency.

“Drunk little bitch.” he spits out. Although he doesn’t look pleased being touched and joked about like this, he barely can suppress the smirk on his lips, definitely enjoying your drunk behaviour.

“Maybe I want them little fingers cooked and seasoned now.” he raises his eyebrow at you, before he takes some more drops.

“Ugh! But they’re gonna burn them, my love!” you complain, not noticing his compliment, definitely not noticing what you just called him, as you’re throwing your arms up in the air. His eyes slightly react to your little nickname for him, but he plays it off with a frown, almost looking like he’s pitying you.

“They’re not even used to cook grown fingers. They’re gonna burn the baby fingers!” you whine out loud. His frown turns into a grin and he starts to laugh. His laugh grows and grows the more he thinks about what you just said.

“Whaat?” you ask, leaning forward, your hand slipping into his kimono, touching his bare chest.

“They’re gonna burn the baby fingers!” he repeats you in a mocking way and starts to laugh again. The way he laughs lights up your heart, especially, because you were the one who caused it. Feeling his chest bobbing up and down beneath your hand, seeing how he presses his eyes shut, how little wrinkles form at the sides of his nose, it makes you smile. You watch his laughter die down slowly and finally you regain some of your mind.

“He wants to eat infant meat and yet I’m here drinking with him.” you shake your head, before you drink some more and stand up, causing your vision becoming a bit blurry. “What did you do to me?” you sigh, letting yourself fall down into his lap, straddling him.

“What did I do to you?” he repeats in a low whisper, a smirk on his face. His bottom pair of hands crawling up your thighs. You drink once more, before you let go of the severed leg.

“You’re turning me into a monster, too.” you whisper, leaning forward, your chest touching his. “A curse maybe.” your fingers softly stroke the right side of his face, fingertips tracing his beautiful features, his eyebrow, his cheek, the side of his nose, until they brush over his lips. You stare at them, a longing look on your face. He looks back at you. A pause.

“Do it.” he whispers.

What?

You look up, your doe eyes stare into his. His eyelids twitch, giving you permission do to what you wanted to do for so long. Your face heats up again, the poison in your blood pumping through your veins. It’s just you and him. Hesitating, you eyes find their way back to his lips, as you brush your thumb against them once more, making him open his mouth softly.

His lips are so tender.

Your lips part, your pulse quickens, as you inhale, blink and lean in, fingers slowly grabbing the hair on the back of his head. You watch his lips, slowly diminishing the space between your faces. Like a feather, your lips gently skimmer over his. Shaky breaths, rising hot, as they quicken, as they mingle, while your noses softly touch.

Numb.

Skin on skin. Fire crackling. Your right hand caresses his jaw, his hands on your thighs move up, to grab your ass. You shift your head slightly, let your bottom lip brush against his upper lip.

Numb.

Sukuna squeezes your ass. You open your mouth more, want to dive in, want to press your lips fully against his, but

you stop.

Here you are, about to do for what you begged him so often, but you can barely feel anything. Lips anaesthetised. Body paralysed. Numb needles in your blood pumping heavily through your veins. That’s all you can feel.

“No.” you whisper, looking back into his eyes. “People say when you kiss someone, you breathe your souls into each other, let them embrace each other.” his beautiful red orbs staring back at you. “I want to experience it fully.” you place a soft kiss on the space next to his nose. “Want to feel you…” you mouth against his skin, as you start putting tiny kisses all over his face. “Want to taste you...”

A purr escapes his lips, as he closes his eyes. Your fingertips gently follow the lines on his mask, as you kiss it. His remaining hands find their way to your hips.

“Why are you doing this?” he mumbles, leaning his face against yours.

“How can someone look at you and not wanting to do that?” you whisper, leaning into his ear. “You‘re so beautiful it makes me wanna cry.” you breathe, pushing your face against his.

His hips grind against you in response, a soft growl escapes his lips. Even your cunt is numb.

I hate it.

“I hate that I can’t feel you right now.” you breathe as you put a last kiss on the corner of his mouth. You regret so much drinking this blood.

Leaning back, you look into his face. His pupils blown, eyes so soft, the wrinkles on his eyelids, that you missed so dearly. His eyebrow paints tender wrinkles above his nose.

You almost feel like, he looks longing.

“Why do you look at me the way you do?” you whisper with a questioning look, mustering his features. “A monster like you, although if its just a mortal looking right back at him?”

His grip on your hips tightens, his lip twitches, before he leans forward.

“Because you’re mine.” he growls.

You softly smile, before you lay down your head on his chest, sneaking your arms into his kimono.

Badum… Badum... Badum…

His heart.

There was a time you couldn’t imagine he has one, but there it is, gently pounding within his chest. The sound so soothing, it makes you sleepy. The exhaustion from the curse blood also impacting your consciousness. You feel his hands leave your ass, resting on the sides of your legs, fingers gently brushing against them. The hands on your hips still resting there. The gentle motion of his breathing quickly sends you into a deep slumber.

#permission #permission chapters #true form sukuna #sukuna #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #true form sukuna smut #fanfiction #slowburn #sukuna x you #true form sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #true form sukuna x reader

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astyrial · 4 months

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rockin’ around a deinonychus owen grady x gn!reader (fluff) synopsis: some dinosaurs have made their way free word count: 886 warnings: tranq guns, chase scene masterlist | requests are open

shallow breaths leave your lips, heart beating quickly. some eerily charismatic song plays over the island speakers, your back against a shop's counter. memorabilia rests all around you in massive clumps. from dinosaur dreidels to christmas apparel, the store failed to sell some of it before the winter break. a chittering noise breaks your mind from the thoughts of winter and action figures.

you hold a tranquilizer pistol in your right hand, forcing yourself to slow your breathing. "rockin' around the christmas tree, let the christmas spirit ring," sets off a chain reaction of noises akin to nails on a chalkboard.

swallowing a thick ball of mucus, you shuffle over to look around the side of the counter. shirts are everywhere in the shop and chairs are knocked over right outside the door. just out of your point of view, a large claw rests along the ground. another one raised slightly in the air as air loudly expels from its nostrils.

"later we'll have some pumpkin pie, and we'll do some caroling!" brenda lee's voice, albeit melodic, sends you closing your eyes in anticipation.

the deinonychus jumps on the counter, items clattering along the floor, a few pens falling onto your shoulder. it bites at the speaker that's just out of reach. her voice carries through the next lyrics while the deinonychus snaps more, sending more papers and action figures flying. taking one more deep breath, you look over again and notice that the other dinosaurs have left in search of food.

now's your chance, you figure, the deinonychus' focus purely on the speaker. you start crawling out of the store, wary of losing the tranq gun in your hand. however, your escape doesn't last very long when she decides to jump up and bite the speaker. she falls down quickly, brenda's voice wavering just as she finishes the chorus.

the deinonychus falls to the ground, the speaker sliding across the ground. you look back as it raises back to a standing position, shaking to clear its system. you scramble to your feet, feeling the faux snow under your shoes as they slide. your heart nearly beats out of your chest as you hear it chirping behind you. the urge to turn around and use your tranq gun is tempting; however, the effects on this dinosaur is unaware to you.

"grady, where the hell are you?" you whisper under your breath, hearing the faint tunes of rockin' around the christmas tree from nearby stores.

you shove your way into an ice cream shop that had its doors unlocked for the workers still there over the holiday break. locking the door, you watch as the deinonychus rams into the glass door, just barely cracking it. letting out a show breath, you search around the room for something that you can use to defend yourself.

truthfully, being a handler for the young ankylosauruses hadn't prepared you for this. while being armored and fairly strong, they weren't the quickest bunch and you never had to use an ice cream scooper to defend yourself. and now, staring out the window at the deinonychus, you're beginning to realize that maybe you need some more training.

especially because when you look around, owen's out of sight and there's no weapons that you can see. "the back door," you whisper to yourself, assuming that none of them would be at the back of the store.

you quickly lift up the counter door, pushing yourself to the back door. when you open it, you're immediately met with someone running past you. that someone being owen.. "grady! where are you going?"

it comes out more hushed than you would prefer; however, you'd rather not test the deinonychus' hearing. much to your dismay, he doesn't hear you, he only keeps running to what you assume must be your aid. "owen! I'm over here!" you shout much louder, gaze flickering around to look out for any dinosaurs.

owen stops quickly at the sound of your voice, turning around with his eyebrows furrowed. he starts running back in your direction, not noticing the deinonychus turning the corner by the gift shop. she spots him almost immediately. like all of the other ones, she starts running towards him, quicker than what either of you could accomplish.

“there’s one behind you!” you shout, pulling out your tranq gun and holding it up.

however, any shot that you’d hope to have, is completely blocked with the possibility of hitting owen. just before he reaches the ice cream shop, you run in, ready to shut the door behind him. seconds later he tumbles into the room, the dinosaur clawing at the door you’re trying to close.

“owen.. i can’t hold this much longer,” you push against the door, watching as little claws peek through.

he joins you, pushing up against the claws between the door and the frame. suddenly, it backs off, letting you lock the door and let out a deep sigh. “where.. the hell.. were you?” you ask in between breaths, closing your eyes for a moment.

“i was looking for you! since we separated i’ve been looking for you,” owen crosses his arms in front of chest, breathing heavily, “help is on the way.”

you look over at him, pursing your lips, “i sometimes really hate this job, grady.”

“yeah but you’d never leave me.”

#owen grady #owen grady x reader #jurassic world #jurassic world fanfic #owen grady fanfic #jurassic series #jurassic world x reader #x gn!reader #x reader

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tparker48 · 1 year

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There was an event going on in the frat houses on the northside of campus, giants and tinies alike jumping at the chance to go as they ventured to the dorms past the trees. Along with them, was Packer, curious at the thought of mingling with the big leagues. Perhaps this was his chance to get involved, but didn’t know for sure if it was a good idea. But then again, he wouldn’t know if he stayed in his room the whole night. With that dreadful thought swirling in his mind, he decided to go, if only to hush the rushing thought in his head. He followed along the smaller barricades, fellow tinies walking inside while the rest of the towering giants waited along the stairs next to him..

The benefits of being small, he presumed. Electric music welcomed his ears, booming through the dimmed room as he followed the crowd through two paneled doors. Lanterns stacked along the walls, casting its crimson glow as strobe light flashed the panels above. Along the main floor, many danced to the beat of the music, Tinies shrouded by pairs of tapping legs as giants danced higher above. It was vibrant, too vibrant for Packer’s taste. He moved around the crowd to the small escalators, taking it to the higher floors as he looked to the crowd below. It was there that he spent most of his time, observing the many students as drinks passed around to the jocks and cheerleaders along the floor. Taking a swig of from his straw, fluid started to build inside him, his cock flexing for release as it bulged into his pants.

“Damn it, I drank too much.” he said, waddling toward the padded cushions along the couch. Hopping off the desk, He followed the table toward the groups surrounding it. He could barely hear his own voice, the booming music from the speakers.

“Hey!..Yo! Does anyone know where the bathroom is?” He asked the surrounding crowd, falling on deaf ears as they laughed and sipped their drinks. He tried waving to the passersby, fanning down anyone that would look down. Their had to be someone who would look, he thought

Continuing to wave at the crowd, one of the students turned his way, their cheeks growing red as they swayed around. “Hey, do you think you can tell me where the bath-” they fell onto the counter, Their hair casting over him like a net.

He was snagged upwards. toggling at the strands of hair as he spun through the air. He tried to call out them in efforts to cease floundering, but it was to no avail, the drunk student continuing to move like a madman as they tossed around the couches. It was only when they cock his head did he finally get his wish, spinning through the air as he fell into a sponge-like opening.

“And this is why I don’t drink.” he groaned, massaging his back to ease the impact.

His gaze soon turned to the space around him, its walls surrounding him in a cylinder-like pattern. Clumps of rubber spiraled upwards to the slitted opening above, smell of dried musk flaring his nose as his face warmed. Where was he anyway? It wasn’t like any couch he saw out there, let alone a chair. He wobbled to his feet, his toes seeping into something slimy as it touched his sandals. Its texture was White as snow, gooey in nature as it soaked into his feet. It smelled salty, fresh as if someone..fucked it.

The area shook, muffled voices echoing outside as his body met the rubbery walls. Tapping from a microphone drowning them out. "Alright ladies and gentlemen, we got a very special game. It's time for our contestants to come up, and play a game of ‘Can You Fill It!!’ "

He puzzled at the words, looking to the opening as shadows danced on the outside. The realization dawned upon him, this space wasn’t just a tube, it was a fleshlight. Rumbling came from below, straps locking from the walls before steps lingered. A sharp squeak came from the entrance, a nozzle squeezing its way through the opening as clear liquid oozed from it. It squirted a thick stream, sending a tidal wave of lube through the tube before it washed Packer to the bottom. It was so slick to move through, his feet slipping from beneath him as he splashed into the translucent puddle.

“Hey, I’m in here you know! Stop the game!” He said, floundered against the rubber.

"Looks like the contestants are ready. Let’s say we get this party started with our beloved host of the party.” The announcer said. ” Give them a round of applause as the first crack of this thing."

A shadow loomed over the opening, taking to the plastic lips like a stamp before it caved in. A bulbous head stuck its way into the folds, the slit in the center smacking with drool that mixed with the contents inside. It wormed its way through the rubbery tube, bulldozing into him as it crashed at the bottom. His torso was subdued, locked in place by the massive cockhead as white drool spilled into his chest. It was warmer compared to the gunk that drenched his toes, thick as it lubricated his face. As the slit retracted, the shaft began to thrust slowly, steamrolling over his body as it tapped at the end of the fleshlight.

He was bombarded,plunging into its spongy walls by the cock’s flesh as it retracted to the top. He placed his palms in front to block the protruding manhood, but its kiss eventually met his form, carrying him with it embrace as it tossed him around. It drooled more, filling a puddle at his shoulder and along the rubbery folds. It was there that it finally erupted, unleashing a tidal wave of milky seed as it waves crashed at his back. It rose higher, the cockhead nuzzling into his body while splooging into his lap. Only a pool of warm cum remained, filling a portion of the chamber that rocked with each twist along the outside.

He emerged, gasping as he wiped its substance from his face. “Ugh that in my mouth.”

"What a wonderful display folks, as expected from our grand host. Now it's for the other two participants."

There was more? He didn't think he could handle another blast of that kind of magnitude. But the feeling seeped in that he had no choice, looking to the rubbery slit that pulled apart like a curtain as a thinner cock entered the cave. Its slitted mouth gaped as it drank the seed filling the chamber, charging through the puddle like a torpedo. It crashed against the bottom, Packer barely having time to think before the shaft retracted and rushed again, pumping itself through the chamber as its aggressive grunts boomed outside. Dodging its strike through the tube, his foot snagged against the shroomed edges, its inertia pinning him beneath its underbelly and into the milky puddle. Cum filled his nose, seeping into his mouth as he dragged to and from the entrance.

His back ached, and his vision dimmed as grinding filled his ears. Pressure increased as the rubbery walls flattened beneath him. The sound of water releasing filled the space, the girth of the cock bulging as its surface cushioned at his back. Seed erupted into the chamber once more, its wave split by a fold in the walls as it drizzled the corners. Its climax was quicker than the hosts, but more rough as its Rigid cock grinded at his back.

"The Alpha captain certainly knows how to rock it ay folks?" The announcer said, the roars of people echoing around the tube. "But it's time for Big Willy to take the stage."

Packer launched from the pool of seed “For who?!”

The crowd grew concerningly softer, heavy steps replacing them before a shadow cast over the slit. When a heavy thud came from the ceiling, A cock peered its ugly head inside, crowned by a layer of loose skin that peeled back by the lips. When it pushed into the tube, he fell backwards as the ground slipped beneath him, Rubber grinding against flesh as the cock made its way deeper.

Its mass clogged the lips as it slithered its way into the tube, like a trash compactor as its walls compressed the space inside. He clinged to the walls, looking for gaps to cushion its blow, but there was nowhere to go, nowhere to run as its girth flattened the folds beneath its meat.

He placed his palm along the bulky head, his sandals sliding off as his toes glided against the floor. When it crashed at the bottom, he wheezed as straps snapped on the outside, the skin unraveling over his head to bring him into its frowsty embrace. The space beneath the cock’s hood was like a blanket, warmth filling his face as the shroomed head coated with slime, tucking beneath his chin as the skin morphed around his neck.

It was there, the pounds began. The sound was softer compared to the fleshlight, Squelches shrouding them while claps echoed through his ears. His stomach compressed upon the cock head’s weight, tenderized by its beating thrusts in efforts to satisfy its owner. The skin climbed higher over him, the thick meat pounding him into a flesh pocket as it wrapped around him.

"Look at him go folks, Big Willy's giving it his all in this competition. And it's only a matter of time before this volcano blows." The announcer said.

The grinds increased at a startling rate, Hinges creaking from the corners of the fleshlights as they withstood Big Willy's wrath. In a matter of moments, he felt butterflies in his stomach when a hard snap muffled outside, his prison smothering him into the clammy skin as they used his head like a Q-tip. His stomach continued to toss around, the pressure of the head not helping in the matter as it nudged against him. But it seemed to have grown worse, when a moan came from the outside. The skin surrounding him yanked off, the head retreating to the middle of the fleshlight.

It hovered over like a dark eclipse, the slit sputtering as if it were about to speak. A wad shot from its lips, striking the walls before it smothered the folds in a waterfall of seed. Its flow grew, sending the cum around the chamber as he swirled to the very top. As it floated him toward the shaft, he clinged to the loose skin for leverage, fighting against the current that threatened to take him under. It soon settled when heavy grunts ceased outside, bubbles coming from a gap in the opening as cheers roared outside.

"What a wonderful display of dominance, Willy still holds the championship for the fourth year in a row. Just look at that smile on his face."

He clinged to the skin, weakly crawling into the pocket as his body slipped against it. When he thought he finally had a hold against it, the head dropped into the sea of seed. Granting him shelter beneath the skin, but not without sending the seed to Packer’s shoulders. As it crashed at the bottom of the fleshlight, it sat upon his legs as giant steps boomed around.

“Hey! Can anyone hear me! Let me out of here!”

**********************************************

Outside, The party dispersed from the event table to the surrounding activities, Big willy guiding himself through the crowds of people to the drink tables along the walls. He heard cheering from the left of him, cheerleaders palming a chant in his triumph as he swigged at his drink. An admirable reward he must say, it was nice to have praise for such a normal feat. But it didn't compare to the tightness that surrounded his manhood, the shaft hanging from his cock by the fleshlight. This was what he was proud of, the fullness surrounding his cock, the collection of his own seed mixed with others. It was a true sign of his champion title, and so he wore it with pride. Fondling over the milky liquid dripping into his pants, he couldn’t help but focus on the feeling inside. It was like being sucked by a really hot girl, but something tingly added to the sensation, like a tongue lapping at his skin. He didn't know what it was, but it felt good. He dropped the fleshlight to let it bob at his pants, taking another glass as he enjoyed the frat party.

#musk #unaware

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magicalmysteries777 · 2 months

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The Bloody-Handed and The Anguish Of Loving Them - Chapter 8.

Summary: Almost a year has passed since Eddie Munson died and it feels like the only person that isn't moving on is Steve.

After spending the night studying a Dungeons and Dragons handbook, Steve is convinced he's figured out how to bring Eddie back. Not only that, but defeat Vecna once and for all too. Now he just has to prove it.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Masterlist: Here.

Chapter: 8 of 10.

Chapter WC: 5.3k.

CW: Swearing, drinking, graphic depictions of blood and injuries, Steve Harrington's abusive father, and brief period typical homophobic language.

This story can also be found on AO3 here.

Taglist: @ohmeg 🖤

March 25th, 1987 .

To say that Steve was going through a ‘roller-coaster of emotions’ wouldn’t do the situation justice.

He was still riding out the elated high and light-headedness from kissing Eddie while simultaneously being confused about the fact that Eddie had kissed him back, worried that his friends were injured, dying, or already dead, furious that Vecna was over there, right that second, getting away with it, and petrified at the implications of Eddie getting away - all while being fully aware that he had no time to think about any of it or what it all meant.

He had to get back to the rest of the party. Fast.

He bolted between the trees and back to the street in record time now that he didn’t have to worry about stepping on the vines. Vecna knew where he was and he knew that Steve was coming, regardless of whether or not he alerted the hive mind.

He ran around the corner and skid to a halt, his eyes widening at the sight of billowing smoke rising from the Creel house in the distance.

A large ball of fire exploded from the left of the decaying building, the echoes of an almighty boom and shattering glass ricocheted from building to building until they made their way to Steve’s ears. The circling Demobats screeched in delight, a number of them breaking formation to fend him off.

What if he was too late?

With his heart in his mouth and his trusty spiked bat readied in his firm grip, Steve charged toward the bats at full throttle.

Blood spattered as nails collided with their tough leathery skin while their agonising screeches drowned out any distinguishable noise Steve could hear coming from the Creel house. Claws stung as they scratched effortlessly at his skin but he didn’t relent, pushing further forward as he fought through the swarm of wings attacking him.

Then he ran. Ran as fast and far as he could before a tug at his left ankle caused him to topple forward, his face scraping the asphalt as he landed in a heap. A sharp, burning pain radiating through his calf caused him to cry out as he attempted to wrestle himself free from the bat’s grip.

It was difficult. The accumulation of blood, sweat, and tears on his hands was causing the bat’s tail to slip out of his grasp repeatedly, all the while its fangs were sinking deeper into his flesh. Eventually, he managed it. Steve took the bat’s tail in his balled-up fist and dragged himself to his feet, swinging it over his head and down onto the ground over and over again, until— “Jonathan!”

It was deafening.

He continued onwards, refusing to let his newest injury slow him down. The heat emitting from the burning building caused beads of sweat to pool on Steve’s forehead as clumps of ash wafted through the air around him, falling to the ground like the first delicate snow of winter.

“Dustin?!” he yelled, his eyes landing on a familiar head of curls. “Dustin!”

“Steve!” he exclaimed, running towards him. “Why are you limping? Where’s Eddie?”

Steve gulped. “He’s not here?”

“Here? Why would he- look out!”

The pair dropped to the ground, narrowly avoiding a swooping Demobat. Dustin jabbed at the bat with his spear, causing it to fall lifelessly to the ground beside them.

“Why would he be here? He’s supposed to be with you,” Dustin finished.

“About that-”

“You let him get away?! We’re getting our asses handed to us on a silver platter and you’re telling me that he’s still out there, ready to attack, at any moment?”

The news had gone down just about as well as Steve had thought it would. “We don’t have time for this.”

Dustin let out an annoyed sigh and rubbed his temple. “Fine. El and Will are inside. Lucas, Erica, and Jonathan got caught in the vines, and most of the undead are down for now but it’s only a matter of time before they get back up.”

“And Robin? Is she alive?”

Dustin raised his hand, his index finger pointing to a shimmering, iridescent dome on the ground off to the right of the battle. “She’s alive. Still out cold, but alive. Erica’s idea - Globe of Invulnerability. They can’t hurt her.”

It was only when Steve got within spitting distance of the battle that he realised the full extent of just how fucked they actually were.

The left side of the dilapidated house had all but collapsed. Thick, black smoke billowed through the broken windows as the tall flames inside continued to dance, and smouldering planks of wood fell from the top story, landing haphazardly amidst the bodies and chaos of the fight below.

“Stay down!” yelled Mike, brandishing his weapon at the twitching corpse by his feet.

The restrained members of the party thrashed violently against the vines, their efforts to free themselves remaining futile - all lined up on the columns holding up the crumbling exterior of the house, forced to watch the horror unfolding in front of them.

Nancy clawed at the vine around Jonathan’s waist, tugging and pulling with her entire body weight until she landed on the ground with a thud and a defeated look across her face.

Kas was right - they were losing.

The body nearest to Steve twitched and groaned as it rose to its feet, the sound of its bones crunching back into place sending a shiver down his spine. “Harrington.”

“Oh, for fucks sake, Hargrove,” he sighed, exasperated. “Don’t get me wrong, killing you is immensely satisfying but it’s getting a bit old now. Don’t you think?”

Billy launched himself at Steve fist first, a right hook colliding with the side of his already bruised and swollen face. Unluckily for Billy, it was the very thing he’d needed to snap him into action.

Steve swung his bat straight at Billy’s head, striking again and again without giving him a chance to compose himself until he was back on the ground, bloody and lifeless, but it wasn’t over. As soon as Billy went down, Heather got up. Once Heather was down, Barb got up. Then it was Fred. Then Chrissy. Then Patrick.

Over and over the undead died and rose again in an ungodly cycle of resurrection, bringing nothing but an increasingly stronger wave of violence each time they were back on their feet.

“Guys, hurry up!” Dustin yelled towards the door of the Creel house, his spear jabbing at the Demobats circling above his head. “We’re dy— fuck!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw Dustin fall to the ground. He stabbed his spear into the dirt, holding onto it for dear life as vines pulled at his ankles.

Another bite to the calf caused Steve’s knees to buckle momentarily and a frustrated sob escaped from his lips. He pulled the bat from his leg with a grimace, turning his attention back to his friends.

“Nance, help!” Mike cried. The vines had taken him while he’d tried to free Dustin, dragging him toward the columns. “Help!”

Perhaps they really were fighting a losing battle?

Nancy was a mess. Her usual bouncy curls were limp and damp, matted throughout with blood and dirt. Mascara covered her cheeks as tears and sweat streamed down her face while she fought, her movements becoming more panicked and less thought out. Then she did the unthinkable.

Steve saw the last glimmer of hope in her eyes die out as she dropped to her knees, allowing the vines to creep in around her to claim their victory.

“No!” he yelled, pleading with her to keep going. “I know you’re tired but we can’t give up!”

“Is that so, Steve?” a voice growled from the doorway.

The undead stopped in their tracks, ceasing their attack to make their way to their master’s side.

Finally, they were face to face once more.

“You motherfucker!” Steve cried out, the monstrosity that was Vecna himself staring back at him.

Vecna descended the front steps, the unconscious bodies of El and Will levitating behind him. With a wave of his hand, the vines slithered around their limbs and tied them up alongside the others.

“I warned you that you could not win. I warned you all,” Vecna began, his reference to the party silencing their anguished cries of protest. “I told you what would happen if you came after me, and now your poor little friends are going to watch you die an agonising, painful death before they too die at my hand.”

“If anyone’s going to die, it’ll be you!” he exclaimed.

Vecna sneered at his outburst. “You’re pathetic - Nothing more than a boy with a baseball bat.”

“I won’t let you take them. Take Hawkins.”

“You will have no choice!” Vecna roared, thunder booming in the distance as he did so. “I will rid this world of all the filthy vermin poisoning it just as I had always planned to do and there is nothing you can do to stop me. Your efforts will be, and always have been, futile. Your dear friend Eleven is realising that now. Hawkins will burn. My undead army will stand tall and we will—”

A small ball of fire flew into Steve’s eyeline and collided with Vecna, causing the sounds of shattering glass and a loud bang to echo throughout the now quiet Upside Down. Vecna let out a groan as the flames grew rapidly, engulfing him.

Steve’s head span and he locked eyes with Robin, already lighting a second Molotov cocktail. Then he blinked, and she too was flying through the air towards the others. A quick twitch of Vecna’s neck had the vines entangle themselves around her and the flames encasing him died down.

“Did you honestly think that you could kill me? That you could turn my Lieutenant against me and save the day?” Vecna taunted, approaching nearer with a threatening snarl. “You think yourself the hero, Steve Harrington, but you are wrong. Let me show you who you really are.”

Steve’s legs locked and he fell to his knees, unable to move. He opened his mouth to protest but another twitch of Vecna’s neck had it snapping back shut, leaving him unable to do anything but watch with wide, panic-stricken eyes as Vecna’s outstretched hand inched closer to him until it was hovering over his face.

The last thing he heard was Robin and Dustin crying his name before his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

Steve opened his eyes to find himself in a dark room, his chest heaving as the fear within him rose.

“Help!” he yelled involuntarily, the voice escaping his lips sounding childlike and timid.

His heart rate spiked as footsteps approached before he heard a door knob click and a figure stepped into the room. “What’s wrong with you now?”

His mouth moved of its own accord once more. “I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“I think there’s a monster in the closet. I heard a noise.”

The figure let out a sigh before responding. “We’ve been through this a million times. There’s no such thing as—”

“Please, Dad,” Steve begged, his lips trembling as his eyes began to well up.

“I’ve had enough of this!” he exclaimed, taking Steve by the wrist and dragging him toward the very closet in question. “I didn’t raise you to be such a fucking sissy.”

Steve kicked and screamed as much as he could but it was to no avail, he was too small and weak to free himself of his father’s grip. He landed in the closet with a thud and began to sob hysterically the moment he heard the key turn in the lock.

“You can stay in there until you can tell me there’s no such thing as monsters,” his father sneered. “Now stop crying before I give you something to cry about!”

He cried and cried for his father. Cried until his throat felt raw and his tears had dried up, but he never came. Steve curled into a ball and tucked his chin into his knees, eyes closed tightly as he rocked.

“Hurry up, Steve!”

A wave of confusion mixed with the terror he was already feeling. He calmed his breathing and called out to the voice. "Mom?”

“We’re going to be late for Church. Get dressed and get out here right now.”

Confusion spread across his face. He hadn’t been to Church since he was fourteen years old - not that he minded, though, he’d always hated it as a kid. The sermons were boring and the music was terrible. He also didn’t believe a single word of it.

He tried the door once more to find that it was now unlocked and stepped out into what he expected to be his bedroom. Only it wasn’t.

It was cold and echoey. Rows of pews filled with people wearing their Sunday best conversing in polite chit-chat surrounded Steve, his mother’s hand on his shoulder guiding him to their seats.

“Mr Mullner, it’s a pleasure,” his father beamed, shaking the hand of the man next to him. “This is my wife, Sophia, and my son, Steve. Mr Mullner has just transferred to my department at work.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Mr Harrington,” Mr Mullner replied. “This is my wife, Clara, and my son, Alex.”

The small boy peered around his father and smiled at Steve. “Hi. Wanna sit with me?”

The pew beneath Steve disappeared and he fell backward, the breath in his lungs being sucked out of him until he felt himself land on what felt like grass.

“Are you even listening to me?” asked Alex.

Steve turned to the left and saw a pair of curious, green eyes staring at him. The boy looking at him was taller than before, a couple of years older than he’d been at the Church. “Sorry, thought I saw something. What were you saying?”

“The bruise on your eye. Where did you get it?”

“Oh, you know me. Always getting into fights these days,” Steve deflected, unable to bring himself to tell his friend the truth.

Alex knew, he was sure of it, but never pushed Steve to elaborate further. He stared back at his friend and everything around them distorted, warping into something new.

It was dark now, the moon full and the night sky scattered with stars. He was laid on his back, a lit cigarette between his index and middle fingers. He took a long drag and exhaled, suddenly noticing the weight on his chest. A head of messy blonde hair moved in rhythm with the rise and fall of his breaths, the owner’s fingers entangling themselves with Steve’s.

“Steve, we need to talk about this,” sighed Alex.

“Talk about what?” Steve replied automatically, still unable to physically say the words he wished he could now he’d had time to fit all the puzzle pieces together.

How different his life might have been if he had.

Alex raised his head slightly to look at Steve and thrust their still-entwined hands in front of his face. “This.”

“We’re holding hands?”

“Exactly.”

“So what?”

Alex let out another sigh. “Friends don’t hold hands.”

“Of course they do,” Steve argued.

“Girls do. How many fourteen-year-old boys do you see holding hands and cuddling?”

Steve remembered how hot and uncomfortable he’d felt the first time he’d heard those words. “They probably do it in private,” he gulped. “Like we do.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I don’t what you’re trying to get at, but I can assure you I’m not—”

“What are you boys doing?!” shouted a familiar voice.

Steve remembered. He didn’t need Vecna to show him what happened next for him to ‘know’ what kind of a person he was - he already knew.

“Father Quint,” Steve greeted, jumping to his feet. “Lovely night, isn’t it? Very clear skies. I was just pointing out a constellation to Al—”

“I saw what you were doing,” he replied sternly.

“Father?”

“I saw you two holding hands. Just you wait until your father hears about this, boy. He’ll—”

“Holding hands?!” Steve repeated, his heart rate rising once more. “We were not!”

Alex gulped and took a few steps back.

“No? What were you doing then?”

“Smoking,” Steve lied. “I heard footsteps so I gave the cigarette to Alex. Don’t want my dad finding out, Father.”

Father Quint stayed silent for a moment, eyeing Steve with great suspicion. “Both of your families will be hearing about this. Come on, I’m taking you home.”

The ground beneath him gave way and Steve found himself balled up against the floor, the cold wood pressed against his cheek a stark contrast to the rest of his face.

“You expect me to believe that?” his father’s voice boomed. “Do you take me for a fool, Steve?!”

“I swear, Dad. I was just smoking. Please,” he pleaded.

His father’s fingers tugged at the hair on his head, pulling him upward until they were face to face. “I didn’t raise you to be a fucking fag.”

“I’m not. Please—”

It wasn’t the first time his father had beaten him or by any means the last, but it was certainly the most memorable beating he’d ever had to endure at his father’s hand. The one that shaped him in the worst way possible during his formative years.

“Dad, please, stop,” he begged, shielding his face from the incoming blow.

“You are no fucking son of mine.”

Steve didn’t watch his surroundings distort this time, unable to bring himself to open his eyes. He just laid there, eyes closed and his arms across his face while he felt the floor underneath him give way and he was falling once again. He didn’t peek. Didn’t even move. Just hoped and prayed that if he stayed there, still, then maybe he wouldn’t have to endure whatever was next to come. Then he heard it - The tapping at his window.

His body betrayed himself once more, his legs forcing him over to the window so he could face the very moment that changed the trajectory of his life toward a downward spiral. Nothing more than a mere spectator to the shit show that was his own existence.

“You know you can’t be here,” he urged in a hushed tone, his head hanging out of his bedroom window. “If my Dad finds out you’re— What the fuck happened to your hair?”

Alex looked up at him, his eyes sad and his curls gone. “Steve, they’re sending me away.”

“What?”

“They’re sending me away,” Alex repeated, his lips quivering. “Some camp out in the wilderness. I don’t know when I’m coming back. If I’m coming back. I leave tomorrow morning.”

Steve wanted the ground to swallow him whole knowing what was about to come out of his mouth, no matter how hard he fought against it. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

“Good?!” Alex repeated, his voice no longer a whisper. “How is—”

Steve glanced over his shoulder, instinctively checking the crack beneath his door for signs of movement. “Lower your voice.”

“How is that good?! You do understand, don’t you? I don’t know when I’ll see you again.”

“I understand,” he replied, a false coolness to his tone. The hurt on Alex’s face was evident even in the dim light of the waning moon.

“Then how can you possibly think that’s good?”

“Dad said that you’ve got something wrong with you. That it’s rubbing off on me,” he answered.

Hearing those words come out of his mouth now made him feel sick to his stomach.

“That’s why they want to keep us apart, isn’t it? So you don’t rub off on me. Maybe he’s right.”

“You don’t mean that,” Alex sobbed. “Please-”

“You need to leave.”

“Steve, I love-”

“I’m not a fucking fag,” Steve declared, closing the window and sliding onto the ground with his back against the wall before Alex had a chance to respond.

That was the last time he ever saw him.

The wall behind him gave way and he fell, hurtling through the dark void for a couple of seconds until he landed on his feet and the smell of musty sweat assaulted his nostrils.

“Not your best practice but definitely not your worst,” teased Tommy. “Now would you hurry the hell up? Carol’s waiting for us.”

“Yay,” he replied sarcastically, grabbing his bag from the locker. “Another night of watching you two suck face.”

Tommy exited the locker room first, colliding shoulder-first with the person on the other side of the door. “Watch where you’re going, freak.”

“Fuck off, Hagan,” the student replied.

Tommy stood his ground in the doorway. “Did you hear that, Steve? I think Munson here needs a little reminder of how he got that scar that he covers up with his watch.”

Steve caught up with Tommy and peered over his shoulder at the situation unfolding before him. The voice inside of his head screamed and pleaded to say anything else. Do anything else. Anything but agree.

“I think he does.”

No wonder Eddie thought he was an asshole.

The floor underneath his feet disappeared, the jolt it caused in his stomach no longer as jarring as before. He was getting used to it now.

“Is that supposed to impress me?”

Steve sank into a chair, the cool breeze hitting his face bringing him back to his senses rather quickly. “You’re not?” he replied, turning to face Nancy.

“You are a cliché, you do realise that?”

He fiddled with the lighter in his hands, an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips. “You’re a cliché… With your grades and your band practice.”

Nancy let out a chuckle. “I’m so not in band.”

“Okay, party girl. Why don’t you just, uh, show us how it’s done then?”

He watched, smiling, as Nancy showed off and shot-gunned a beer while Tommy and Carol cheered her on in the background.

He remembered how on top of the world he’d felt that night. Little did he know that unthinkable horrors would take place right there, moments later, whilst he was upstairs with Nancy focusing on one thing only.

Himself.

He felt the chair he’d just sank into give out beneath him, causing him to fall through the void once more.

“Stop it!” he called out to the darkness. “Please, just stop. I get it. I know who I am. I know what I’ve said.”

“‘Please’ isn’t a word that works on me, Steve,” growled Vecna’s low voice. “Besides, aren’t we having fun?”

Fun wasn’t a word that Steve would use to describe the situation. Daunting, perhaps. Evil. Cruel. Traumatising. All of the above.

If everything that he’d been taught about dying whilst growing up was true and your life really did “flash before your eyes” as your soul departs then Steve knew he was right to fear death all along, despite everyone telling him otherwise. Who wouldn’t fear having a first-row seat to a show of their worst moments playing back-to-back?

Steve felt his feet collide with the ground beneath them, the sounds of metal clacking and traffic filling his ears. Then—

“Hey there, Princess."

This was not his finest moment.

“Uh-oh. She looks upset,” taunted Tommy.

Steve knew what was coming. He’d known what was coming the first time it happened, he’d of been a fool to expect anything different. Plus, he deserved it. Nancy Wheeler, her face like thunder, marched right up to him and swung. Her palm collided with his left cheek, and a warm sting spread through his face.

“What is wrong with you?!” she asked.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? I was worried about you,” he replied. “I can’t believe I was actually worried about you.”

“What are you talking about?”

As per usual, Carol interjected. “I wouldn’t lie if I were you. You don’t want to be known as the lying slut now, do you?”

“Speak of the devil,” interrupted Tommy, a smirk spreading across his face as he watched Jonathan Byers walk towards them.

“You came by last night?” asked Nancy. He could almost see the cogs turning in her head.

Carol laughed. “Ding, ding, ding! Does she get a prize?”

Steve tried as hard as he could to mentally check out for the rest of that particular memory. He didn’t need to focus on the details. He already knew.

He’d tell Nancy to “go to hell” followed by calling Jonathan a “queer.” He’d call him “ a screw-up” like the rest of his family, saying it was no surprise what happened to Will. Then he’d call the entire Byers family “a disgrace” and, rightfully so, Jonathan would punch him in the face.

He was on the ground now, taking punch after punch from Jonathan while Tommy, Carol, and Nancy cried out in protest, begging Jonathan to stop. Steve didn’t want it to stop. Not anymore.

It didn’t hurt. He was getting numb to it, enjoying it almost in his own twisted way. Maybe it was because it made him feel alive in such dire circumstances. Maybe it was the guilt.

“This is who you are, Steve,” called the familiar growling voice. He was in the void again.

When he opened his eyes he was staring at a wooden door, one hand already pushing it open before he could even try to stop himself.

“It’s not coming off, Nance,” he tried to reason, watching as Nancy swayed while trying to scrub the red stain out of her white shirt. “Let me take you home. Come on.”

“You want— You wanted this,” she slurred.

“No, I didn’t want this. I told you to stop drinking.”

He’d already relived this memory over a hundred times without Vecna toying with his mind.

“It’s bullshit.”

“No, it’s not bullshit. Okay?”

“Bullshit.”

“No, it’s not bullshit, Nancy,” he argued.

She stopped for a second before looking at him dead in the eyes. “No, you. You’re bullshit.”

“What?”

“You’re pretending like everything is okay. You know, like we… like we didn’t kill Barb. Like we’re in love and we’re partying,” she confessed. Steve remembered why she wasn’t a big drinker these days. “Let’s party, huh? We’re partying… This is bullshit.”

The words stammered as they left Steve’s lips. “Like we’re in love?”

“It’s bullshit.”

Vecna’s taunting laugh reached his ears, echoing off the walls and bouncing around the room over and over until he was falling again.

“You’re okay, Steve, I promise. Steve— Hey, look at me. You’re okay.”

“I work at Scoops. I work at Scoops. I’m not a spy, I swear. I work for Scoops.”

He was on his living room floor, balled up with his arms around his knees, rocking back and forth as tears streamed down his face.

They’d been having a quiet night in, him and Robin. Ice cream and movies being the only two items on the itinerary, just like always. They were two movies and one pint of ice cream deep when Steve had heard a Russian accent during one of the scenes and it sent him spiralling.

“I work at Scoops. I work at Scoops. I’m not a spy, I work for Scoops,” he repeated through muffled sobs. Robin tried to place a hand on his shoulder but he flinched away from her touch, jumped to his feet, and ran towards his bedroom to lock himself away.

That was the first time he’d tried to drown out the voices in his head with vodka.

“Are you starting to see?” Vecna asked as Steve slipped into the void.

“See what?” he responded, preparing himself for the next taunt.

“How all of this lead you here, to me.”

His body began reacting to its surroundings before Steve could process where he was, his arms and legs thrashing against the tight grip of the vines around his limbs and throat.

“What do we do?!” cried Robin, attempting to tug her arms free.

Nancy too fought tirelessly to free herself. “I don’t know!”

Any minute now the vines would release them and they’d charge upstairs to try and kill Vecna, all three of them blissfully unaware of the fact they were only free because Eddie was out there, alone, sacrificing himself to the bats so that they could finish the job.

Only this time Steve knew. He knew and there was nothing he could do except watch the horrific event unfold in front of him.

The vines released them and Robin declared that despite not believing in a higher power or divine intervention, their freedom was a miracle. The three of them climbed to the attic, weapons in hand.

He willed his body to stop, too exhausted to carry on and face what was to come but his legs continued onward until he was staring straight at Vecna.

Steve threw the first Molotov cocktail. The bottle collided with Vecna and the flames engulfing him brought him out of his trance, not a moment too soon for Max. Robin threw the next one, causing Vecna to stagger backward slightly as he made his way towards them. Nancy stepped forward, staring down the barrel of her sawn-off shotgun that was aimed right ahead.

He counted the shots in his head, knowing that when he got to four Vecna would fall out of the window and they’d all race outside hoping to find his corpse, only to be greeted with nothing except scorched earth.

“Do you hear that?” asked Robin after a few seconds of processing their defeat.

Nancy looked out towards the sound. “Sounds like screaming. Is that- Is that Dustin?”

Steve’s stomach dropped just as much as it had done the first time.

He sprinted toward Dustin, the sight of him hunched over Eddie becoming clearer the closer he got while Robin and Nancy were ten paces behind, struggling to keep up.

“Dustin!?” he called. “What happened?”

Dustin raised his head, locked eyes with Steve, and slowly shook his head.

Eddie was dead.

Steve dropped to his knees at their side, one hand on Dustin’s shoulder and the other clutching Eddie so tightly he thought his fingers would snap.

They sat there completely silent for a few moments, except for the gasps and sobs when Nancy and Robin caught up with him, until Dustin spoke quietly. “What do we do now?”

Steve’s stomach flipped and the limb clutched in his palm disappeared, his fist tightening instinctively at its absence.

He wasn’t sure where he was this time, his vision was too blurred and his head hurt too much to make anything out. All he knew was his throat felt like sandpaper and he could smell grass.

“Back so soon, Steve?” a voice asked.

Steve’s head spun to face the voice so quickly that his stomach churned. “Huh?”

“How much have you had to drink this time? It’s me, Wayne,” he answered, prying Steve off of the ground. “Up you get.”

He felt himself sink into a seat and he heard a faint click as his head slumped onto his shoulder. A moment later Wayne spoke again. “Third time this month I’ve found you outside of that old trailer. You okay, kid?”

“Fine,” he lied, followed by a hiccup.

Wayne sighed. “You don’t seem fine. Seem drunk as a skunk, if you ask me.”

"M'fine.”

“So fine that I’m having to take you home again? It’s okay if you’re not, you know. I’m not. I miss him every single day.”

“Not fair,” Steve slurred. “Didn’t deserve to die. Shouldn‘t have been him. Should’ve been me. Wasn’t right.”

“Don’t say shit like that, kid.”

"S'true. Should’ve been—”

He was falling again. Falling and falling until his knees collided with the hard ground beneath him and he let out a loud gasp, the cries of his name ringing in his ears.

He’d escaped Vecna’s trance.

A glint of silver whooshed passed Steve and the hand that had been hovering in front of his face fell to the floor with a thump.

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nine-of-words · 9 months

Text

Out in the Cold (Part One)

M Orc x M Troll (Hulder) Reader

STORY TAG || NEXT

Wordcount: 3087

Content Warnings: Hypothermia (Sort of)

I started writing this story last winter, and I’m so excited to finally start posting it here! These two have become one of my favorite pairs I’ve written ever, so hopefully they grow on some of you, as well.

You've been running for hours, now.

The cold winter air stings your lungs with each heavy breath you take. Your feet ache in your boots as you run.

It's begun to snow.

The sight fills you with a pleasant feeling despite your current situation, and you subconsciously slow your pace to appreciate the fat clumps of snow falling around you.

Just a few flurries at the moment. But there's a heavy snowstorm coming, and you have somewhere to be before it gets here.

So, despite your fatigued body crying out for a break, you keep running. You don't have the luxury for rest at the moment - keeping whatever scrap of headstart you have is too important. You've got to put as much distance between you and them as possible, while you still have the stores of energy.

It’s been so long since you had to do any real running that you’re not used to the physical demand anymore. You’ve gotten soft from your new, relatively cushy life- like the bushy bit on the end of your tail.

You push on through your physical discomfort, darting through the underbrush as quickly as you can manage.

Are they trailing you yet? Orcs are naturally predisposed to be excellent at tracking prey, so once the hunting party catches on to your trail, your task of eluding them is going to be made that much harder. It’ll be a question of when you get caught at that point, rather than if.

Given the amount of creeping sunlight breaking over the tree-laden horizon, early risers should be waking up for the day already. One very specific early riser is sure to notice your absence… Someone who would be giving you a lecture about pacing yourself if he was present.

You sigh, the gust of breath forming a warm cloud of steam in front of you.

Pushing yourself too hard never ends up well. Maybe it's time you start taking that lesson to heart instead of being so stubborn. You always end up making a mess of things when you're exhausted. Or when you're not...

…You have enough time for a break, you decide. A short one. Just long enough to drink from your canteen and wolf down some of the jerky and dried fruit you had remembered to pack.

You sit on an appropriately flat and dry rock, absentmindedly checking your compass when your mind wanders to the last time you had to travel such a distance, nearly a year ago. It was snowing then, too…

LAST WINTER

Utterly lost, you collapse from exhaustion in the middle of the quiet, desolate, snow-covered forest.

Somehow you made it through the snowstorm itself, but now trudging through the several inches of it covering the ground has consumed the last of your energy.

Your head feels funny.

How long have you been laying like this? Time starts to bleed.

The cold seeps into your bones, and a gentle layer of powder accumulates over you.

"Huh. Weird shaped rock." Someone mumbles in one of your moments of clarity, in what could either be moments or days later, for all you know.

You feel the tip of a heavy boot impact with your side. It's more of a nudging tap than a true strike, but they might as well have stomped you with how much everything hurts at the moment. You recoil with some of your last remaining strength.

"Oh shit! Not a rock!! It m-moved!!" The voice all but shrieks. "Lurog! C'mere!"

"What are you carrying on about?" An unamused voice accompanies the crunch of a second pair of boots in the snow.

You feel a wooden rod, likely the blunt end of a spear, prod between your shoulder blades.

"Dead."

"S'not dead! I just saw it move!"

"Dead." She repeats the prodding for effect.

"Stop! You're gonna hurt it!"

The two voices discuss how to handle the corpse/rock in front of them, until you hear the crunch of a third set of heavy footfalls approach.

"What is the problem here?" The third deep voice chimes in, and the other two voices immediately go silent in deference. "Your squabbling is scaring away the game."

"Boss! I think this rock is alive!"

There is a short beat of silence, followed by the female voice failing to hold in snorting laughter.

"I mean- Urgh-"

"Enough. I understand."

You feel a presence hover over you, and a firm, gloved hand takes you by the elbow. The world spins as you're rolled onto your back, all of your limbs on deadweight and your hazy eyes struggling to focus.

Warm, calloused fingertips touch the side of your cold neck. You want to flinch away, but you don't have it in you.

He holds them there for a few moments - checking for your pulse, you realize.

"They dead?"

"Not yet."

You wouldn't truly die from the cold, anyway. Thanks to your troll biology, it's impossible for you to freeze to death. But you would be in stasis until someone found you and warmed you up, a rude awakening when you realize how much time would have passed- a diversion you can't really afford at the moment.

A hand brushes your bangs from your face, but your vision is nothing but ethereal shapes.

There are two fuzzy figures to either side in different shades of green - one a mossy tone and the other more of a pine - and a slightly larger blue one against the sea of blurred white and coniferous grey-green.

“I-It looks weird. I’ve never seen one like it before.”

“‘It’ can probably hear you, you idiot.”

Even without being able to see them clearly, though, the coloration and the names would suggest that these are orcs. Part of the group you’re looking for, ironically? You struggle to focus your eyes, blinking repeatedly in an attempt to clear the ice from your lashes.

"Huh, Urguk was right. Miracles do happen." She laughs.

“Heeey…”

"You gonna put 'em out of their misery, Boss?"

Damn.

You barely manage to have a more coherent thought than that, fear settling in that these brutes are going to kill you before you even get a chance to attempt the job you came here to do, but your limp, freezing body is unable to act, even to preserve your own life.

"...No.” He says after a moment of deliberation, assuaging your fear slightly. “Troll. Nothing that Shaman can’t fix if we warm them up soon."

He grunts and the looming presence and warmth of his hand is gone, the shape becoming distant as he assumingly stands back upright.

"Urguk. Run back ahead of us and tell Shaman to get prepared." He orders in an even, authoritative tone.

After an affirmative noise, footfalls crunch away at a sprint, without so much as a question.

"Lurog, you help me wrap them up to carry."

“Sure thing.” Despite their tired affect from before, again the hazy figure agrees with no argument. Willing, even.

There’s some shuffling and rustling of fabric, and soon you’re lifted from the snow covered ground like a soggy ragdoll. Your damp, snow laden cloak is removed and replaced with a dry, heavy fur-lined one that’s big enough to bundle you up completely from head to toe.

They support your weight under your knees, leaning your body against their shoulder. A small, feeble noise of relief escapes you as you slump against the warm, firm wall of muscle holding you up.

Once they’re sure you’re secure, whoever is carrying you begins to move. Their stride is steady, strong and almost hypnotic.

At some point in the journey, you must’ve fallen asleep to the rocking of their gait, because no time seems to pass before you wake up again in a warm bed, with the sight of wooden ceiling beams above you.

Before you can ponder the nature of your situation for very long, your finely tuned senses alert you to the presence of someone else nearby- the small sounds of rustling and a vaguely herbal scent filling the air.

You jolt upright, ready to react if the situation calls for it, then immediately regret it when the resulting wave of nausea hits you.

You slouch back down in defeat. But luckily, your keen eyesight has returned. You pupils constrict to take an appraisal of the other person occupying the dim, warmly lit room.

They’re a greying, slightly weathered orc of indeterminate gender. They seem to have a wiry build under the multiple layers of robe, fur and feathers. They also wear quite a bit of ornamental jewelry- all made out of natural materials, like glass beads and carved bones. The most noticeable are the two large, perfectly circular hoops braided into sections of their hair on either side, hanging at about chest level.

“Easy. You’re still recovering.” The orc says in a comforting tone, approaching with a small, wide cup made of lacquered wood. “But don’t worry. You’re in good hands. Hah!”

“Ah, and who might those hands belong to?” You say, as charmingly polite as you can muster through the dizziness.

“I’m Shaman of this tribe.” They say with a nod and a warm smile, light glinting off the metallic cap on one of their tusks. Then they hand you the cup, which you find to be filled with some sort of pungent green sludge. The wood is warm to the touch, and feels good on your hands. “Go ahead and sip that. It’ll help with the nausea.”

“Pleasure to meet you, er- I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name-?”

“That’s by design. Once you’re in my position, you’re simply ‘Shaman’. Not only a title, but a byname.”

“Fascinating!” You attempt to make a good show of sipping at the sludge in the cup, only to be interrupted by a coughing fit. “Ah- excuse me- So- Would that make you the decision maker around these parts?”

“You could say that, but in truth it’s a joint effort. So any decision of a certain weight would have to be considered by both me and my fellow leader.”

“That would be me.” A gruff, hazily familiar voice says from the doorway, which he literally needs to duck his head under to clear.

“So he is.” Shaman smiles.

“Um… Hi.” You grin sheepishly and introduce yourself.

“Torg. I am Chieftain here.”

He is a huge slab of a man. He has a broad chest and set of shoulders, with a good set of arms, and is clearly of towering height. The only thing on him that's small in proportion are the tusks jutting from his lower lip, and even those are only small in proportion.

Otherwise, his styling is plain and practical, from his choice in clothing to the length and keep of his beard. His hair is long, thick and dark, mostly pulled up into a pragmatic half-bun atop his head. Honestly, you wouldn’t even have paid any attention to his hair at all if not for your eye catching the glint of light bouncing off something shiny there. Large silver rings are woven into the few braided sections of his hair - what seems to be the only real ornamental items he wears. You astutely observe that they’re similar to the ones that the Shaman wears, save for the material.

And a facial expression that could sour milk. Yep, that’s an orc alright…

A blue orc.

Orcs with skintones outside of the ubiquitous greens, tans and ochres aren’t unheard of in some climates. You’ve even seen a crimson red one in the city before... But you’ve never seen a blue one. Trolls? Yes. But not an orc.

It makes your brain itch, but you’re not sure why. Maybe it'll come back to you later.

Big fish - literally big. Gotta make a good first impression.

You turn your charm switch on like the second nature it is, honeying your voice and smirking.

“Oho, I must be lucky indeed if I’m getting a welcome visit from the Big Boss himself.”

You barely finish your sentence before breaking into a forceful coughing fit- not exactly the smooth first impression you’re trying to make.

“You’re lucky you still have all your fingers and toes after your idea of an entrance.” Torg snorts indignantly, shaking his head. "If you weren't a Troll, they'd have fallen off. Assuming you hadn’t died first."

“Yeah… Not my most shining moment, admittedly.” You let out a sigh, finally catching your breath and your posture slumping a bit.

It takes a moment for the memory to slide into place, your mind swimming in blurred shapes of color and warmth returning to your body. But you’re sure this is one of the orcs that brought you in from the cold. You don’t think there’d be another massive blue orc running around, even this far north…

“You were one of the group that brought me here, then?”

Torg nods, but his grim, hardened facade doesn't so much as crack in the slightest.

“Thank you. It was quite cold out there.”

“You can thank the other two knuckleheads when you’re feeling better. They’re the ones that found you.”

“Well then, I’ll be sure to. Maybe I'll put together a gift basket.” You smile; Even if he doesn't seem to appreciate your humor, Shaman seems to.

“As I was saying- true to Orcish ways, Torg here and myself run the settlement together. He is the civil leader, while I am the tribe’s healer and spiritual advisor. We’ll be happy to help you get back on your way to whatever your destination was, but first we do have some questions.”

“For one- What were you doing so far from town, to be succumbing to the elements right outside of our gates?” There is a dubious tone in his voice, passively letting you know that your intentions are being well scrutinized. “There’s nothing this far out besides us, unless you’re hunting. And you don’t look like a hunter.”

“Oh. That’s because I was looking for this very settlement, in fact.”

“Why?” His eyes narrow in pointed suspicion, not having expected you to give that information so freely.

“I want to live here, of course! ...If that’s okay with you.”

“I see no issue, if that’s what you’d like.” Shaman remarks pleasantly.

“Absolutely not.” Torg grunts indignantly, the disparity of the sentiments giving you whiplash.

“Ah, you object, then?” Shaman questions.

“Yes, I object. This is suspicious.” He scowls, turning his discerning gaze to you. “You mean to tell me that you were so desperate enough to leave wherever you came from to start a new life here, that you would make a long, grueling journey? In such scant equipment?”

You resist the urge to gulp down your stress. You can’t be found out just like that, can you? You have no evidence of your trade on your person that could’ve been discovered while you were passed out…

Does the look of you simply scream thief, then?

"Er… Yes?" Great job. That sounds like-

"You're aware that sounds like a load of shit, right?"

“Maybe, but I… I don’t have anywhere else to go.” You say forlornly, averting your eyes. This may be something you planned to say to garner pity and hopefully ply entrance into their stronghold, but honestly… Hearing yourself say it out loud, it’s not that far off from the truth. “And I had heard that orcs take outcasts like that in...”

“Come now, Torg. You’re being more cautious than necessary, in my opinion.” Shaman lays their palm on his shoulder, though they have to reach upwards to do so, which makes the typical image of an elder giving counsel look a bit silly. Their various baubles clink together with the movement. “It’s been so long since we’ve had new blood join us. It may be good for the settlement. An omen, perhaps.”

“And you know better than anyone in the settlement that not all omens are good.” The large man grumbles back to them in response.

“He’s only one small troll-cat. What damage could he possibly cause?” Shaman gestures to your small size with their bangled hand. “And do remember that according to the New Ways, we have a responsibility to protect those that aren’t fortunate enough to be blessed with Orcish strength.”

His jaw clenches rhythmically as he stares down at you. He's clearly in roiling inner turmoil over whether you can be trusted. After a few moments of agony pass, he sighs heavily and shrugs. His hard expression relents a bit.

“Fine. If that’s really the case… You’re free to stay. But that means doing your fair share of work, like anyone else - when you are recovered, that is.”

“Excellent.” Shaman nods in approval.

“O-Of course!" You sit up straight and give him the most charming smile you can muster. "Thank you both so much. I promise I won’t let you down!”

“Hmph. We’ll see.” He shakes off your words and hastily gets to his feet, the wooden chair creaking slightly as he does. "Just don't make any more trouble."

"I'll try." You laugh with a nod, but are unable to hide the wry grin on your face. You try to restrain it- You’re supposed to look scared and helpless and pitiable, not balking at the idea of having to face any consequences.

"One more thing." Torg lingers in the doorway before departing. "If any of my people come to harm because of you- you will answer to me. Keep that in mind."

"I wouldn't dream of it." You try to restrain the smug grin that is trying to break across your face.

After Torg departs, you let out a huge breath of air that you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Thank you.” You say again to the Shaman. “You really saved me there. I thought he was going to turn me out in the snow for a moment.”

“Oh. Don’t mind him.” Shaman laughs. “He would have never- he’s all bark and little bite. Even pleasant, when you come to know him.”

“Hah, well, I’m sure I’ll enjoy getting to know everyone here!”

“Oho, there’s time for that later. For now, you need to rest and regain your strength.”

You nod, then lay back against the pillow behind you, lacing your fingers in your lap.

You’ve managed to get in, and that’s the hardest part down- now it’s time to move onto the next phase of your plan.

You’re already begun mentally penning the letter to your guildmaster at the thieves’ guild to inform him you’ve arrived.

>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> ☕ KO-FI

#exophilia #monster lover #monster romance #monster x reader #orc x reader #orc #male reader #male monster #troll reader #mlm #mxm #male x male #oc: reyr #oc: torg #series: out in the cold #nine of words

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infernalodie · 2 years

Text

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐨 𝐌𝐞 || 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐲𝐚

“'𝘊𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘱 𝘓𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘶𝘴 𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩, 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦, 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦“

Inspo: Giveon - All To Me

Pairing: Freya x Fem!reader

Summary: She had you all to herself...

Warnings: Just pure smut in a tree, fingering, queen kink, and use of petnames.

Words: 1845

DNI IF YOU’RE YOUNGER THAN 18!

You swore that each time you adventured far from home, the blistering colds would soon enough cause your limbs to freeze up and fall off. Mimir always took that moment to tease you while your father would tell you to stop your fussing and to endure it. But you never saw the reason for you, Atreus, and your father to go hunting when it wasn’t needed. Atreus was the hunter while you had preferred staying home and training. Father continued to say that although that was good, your need to learn hunting would benefit the group.

So, here you were, in the woods wandering around with your mother’s bow and your sword tight in your grasp. Alone as you were the second oldest and more trusted than Atreus ever would be. But your idea of hunting was wandering around until you found something worthy of your attention. Yet, your mind was already preoccupied with a specific woman, blurring your attention to the main task at hand.

“I don’t understand why she won’t let me see her,” you muttered to yourself, kicking a clump of snow out of your path. Since Fimbulwinter had washed over Midgard, the sight of snow had been more pleasing to your eyes. The sky was constantly grey from the clouds producing the white flecks that melted against your cheeks. And as much as you hated the massive gusts of wind, you tolerated it for the beauty that was given in return. “That bitch doesn’t even care, does she? Is all flirty with me and then suddenly doesn’t come and see me when I hunt.”

You scoffed, pulling your sword from its sheath and tossing it towards a tree. Propelling the blade towards the trunk and hopping onto it before beginning to climb the tree. The snow clingings to the branches causing a stinging sensation to bite at the tips of your fingers. Finally reaching the precipice where you kicked your feet across the thick branch and back propped up against the base. Retrieving the rope around your belt that held your 6 rabbits and meat from a wolf that you had encountered in your walk, and wrapped the rope around you and the trunk as a restriction for if you fall in your sleep.

Snuggling closer in the furs made by your father, you stared out at the frozen-over Lake of Nine. A perfect view of Tyr’s temple and all the different realm travel towers. It was a sight behold to anyone that had a sane mind in these parts. But as of late, raiders were senseless, murderous dumbasses that you had butchered for fun, and a certain Valkyrie Queen had been creating problems for your father.

Closing your eyes, to seek the moments of peace that would be needed when you get home. Likely to hear how your father would already make you feel more a disappointment than you already did. So, a nice nap up in a tree, away from danger, away from your brother and father was well-needed. Although, Mimir would be a rather nice company right about now. You were sure the man would look to take hold of the beauty of the landscape from up here-

“What are you doing up here, pup?” That soft and rather amused voice made you yelp and snap your eyes open. But when you saw the source of the voice, your face grimaced in disgust as you relaxed back into your position. “Oh, don’t give me that look, Y/n.”

“I’m going to give you whatever look I feel like, Freya,” you scoffed, closing your eyes and crossing your arms tightly over your chest. Face forming a pouty look that Freya found endearing. “You have a lot of balls showing up out here after attacking us yesterday.”

Freya rolled her eyes at the mention. “I don’t seek to hurt you or Atreus, Y/n,” she sighed. “Your father took Baldur from me. You can’t be surprised.” The mention of the once invulnerable Aesir God made the mood shift slightly.

You understood where the woman stood and why she was doing what she was doing. Just as much as she understood why you would defend your family. There were certain things you kept from your brother about your mother because you knew it was better that way. Everything you did was meaningful, as do her decisions. Hell, you hadn’t even done anything when she last held Baldur in her arms. Kratos and Atreus were the ones responsible as you stood by, silent and tense.

But now, she was angry and fueled by the simple need for revenge. Leaving her a relentless, frightening, and rather hot “enemy” that came to visit you occasionally. In secret, of course.

Noticing the shift, Freya smiled and leaned toward you with a mischievous grin. “Don’t tell me you don’t like the thrill-” She inhaled sharply with her lips an inch away from yours. Problem was, your quick reflexes of your knife pressing to the belly of her jaw. Eyes now open and lips parted, teeth baring in a grin. Moving and pressing the knife further into her flesh, forcing her to turn her face for you to examine,

Under her eyes, there were streams of eyeliner that hadn’t been smudged the day Baldur was killed. The constant reminder of your father’s decision was on her face in the shape of tears. Her eyes were now smeared in a thick black eyeliner with hair was slightly frizzed from the cold weather over the past three years. Yet, somehow, she was a sight to behold.

“I like when a person keeps their word, Freya,” you said, forcing her chin up further. A wicked grin formed on your lips when the woman held her breath, eyes fluttering shut. “And I hate to be kept waiting, and cold.”

Freya felt all restraint be ripped from her body as she jolted forward and crashed lips upon yours. A sigh fell from the older woman’s lips as her tattooed fingertips softly brushed a few strands of your hair out of your face before she cupped your cheek, pulling you incredibly closer. You smiled, taking your dagger and stabbing it into the tree before wrapping your arms around her neck.

In what had occurred years ago, the death of Baldur had only brought you and Freya closer. It was sick and twisted, the Valkyrie knew this, but even before Baldur’s death, the two of you flirted and made feelings apparent for one another. Kratos hadn’t wanted you two to see one another after Freya swore vengeance, but you nor Freya cared. Because in this eternal winter, the both of you sought the warmth of one another’s bodies. That’s because you brought the best out of Freya and she’d needed a sense of rejuvenation, and you were that source.

“I missed you,” Freya breathed, lips barely parting as her hands moved feverishly against your clothes. You broke apart, panting, lips bruised, and heart hammering against your chest as you help shimmy your pants down just enough to give the Queen access to your soaking core. Although snow nipped at your lower back, the feeling of her warm fingers flicking across your drenched heat made it all the more worth it. The contrast was better than anything you’d ever felt or seen. “And I see someone has missed me as well.”

“Shut it.” Your hand wrapped around her throat, tugging her towards you to where your lips met once more. Teeth classing and tongue fighting for dominance over the other. Freya pressed the pads of her fingers to your clit, rubbing fast shapes in the sensitive bud. A gasp erupted in the back of your throat, your head was thrown back with Freya sliding her attention to the edge of your jaw. Kissing and sucking as you trembled underneath her.

Although you were the daughter of the Greek God of War, you were far more submissive than Freya took you for when she met you. Of course, on the battlefield, you showed your capabilities. But every now and then, with only Freya around, you showed yourself more perspective to her touch or words. Practically mewling at the faintest of holds she would have on your hand or your waist. And slowly, she broke away the shyness you held and now left you a far more dominant girl than when she found you.

Finally, Freya pushed her fingers past your clenching pussy, grinning when you moaned loudly, unapologetic as to who could possibly hear or see. Your walls quivered around her finger as she thrust into you with urgency. Either for you to reciprocate the relief you were feeling or to pay back for her mishap. Because even if she didn’t say it aloud, she hated that she left you waiting.

“You’re a gift from the gods, Y/n,” Freya whispered, breath hot against your neck as she nibbled at your pulse point. Feeling you twitch and let out shaky choked moans into her ear. Hands holding her tattered garments as she smiled softly against your cheek. “You are never leaving my side, pup.”

Her possessive words made you bristle with warmth as that knot in your stomach grew tenser. A groan falls from your lips. You tried to focus on her kisses, wanting nothing more than to reciprocate them. But the more her fingers gently nudged the sweet spot in you, you grew focused on that sensation. Melting more and more with each thrust of her fingers that weren’t afraid to scissor inside you, sweetening the bliss that flowed through your body.

“My Queen, I-” You shivered with a moan as your hold on her clothes grew tighter. Neck straining as your head rolled back. Freya took in the sight with admiring eyes, smiling widely, especially with the familiar title you had given her. Sending a wave of adrenaline through her system as her fingers sped up. “My Queen, I’m going to cum!” You whined, pulling her closer in case she even thought about pulling away.

But she would never do such a thing. Especially to her pup.

Her fingers curled and curled until they finally pushed you over the edge. Leaving you gasping and letting out a cry with your back arching. Toes curling in your boots as your legs curled and straightened with the explosive orgasm. Freya followed your pulse point with her lips, knowing just how much the feeling drew you feral. And her fingers slowly worked you down when your body twitched from the aftershocks.

Soon panting and slowly regain your bearings with a wave of exhaustion written on your face. But when your gaze met Freya’s, your lips curled into a cheeky smile. “I never thought I would fuck in a tree, but I guess we can cross that off our list.” Freya couldn’t contain the laugh that fell from her lips as you smiled cheerfully. She rested her forehead against yours, shaking her head slightly as she stared up at you adoringly.

“What did I do to deserve you?”

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