#it was just a windy road | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

girlgenius1111 · 11 months ago

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all of my past i tried to erase it

part 3 of family line tensions are still high between Ingrid and her sister. Mapi tries to keep the peace. Solstråle tries to pretend she's fine. Ingrid tries to pretend she isn't going insane not understanding what is going on. cw: mentions of poor mental health / panic attacks. ingrid is pretty worried about solstråle and whether or not she is safe.

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It wasn’t really anyone’s fault. Mapi bringing her parents to the match shouldn’t have gotten to you the way it did. You didn’t really have an explanation for it, either. You saw Ingrid talking to Mapi’s mom and it felt like everything that had gotten marginally better in the last few days had miraculously disappeared.

You were 8 again, sitting in the office at school, fielding pitying looks from the office ladies. Both of your parents were busy watching one of Ingrid’s matches; at just 16, she was playing for Rosenborg. Your mom was supposed to bring you to watch, too. She’d forgotten.

You were 10 again, lying to the school nurse that your parents hadn’t known you’d hurt your hand. She said it looked broken, and you pretended that you hadn’t asked your mom to take you to the doctor the night before. You pretended your mom hadn’t told you to stop faking injuries when the attention wasn’t on you for one minute.

You were 13 again, sobbing into your pillow, while everyone celebrated just down the hall. Ingrid was leaving to play in Lillestrøm. 5 hours away. She was leaving you behind.

You were 16, having just been dumped by your first girlfriend. You’d come home in tears, and when you told your dad what was wrong, he told you it was for the best, that a girlfriend was just a distraction. He warned you not to bother your sister with this, because she was busy with much more important things in Barcelona.

You were 17, so drunk you could barely speak, walking home on a dark road in the middle of the night because neither of your parents had answered the phone to come and get you from the horrific party you already regretted attending. It was dark, a windy road you were walking along, and if a car came, you weren’t sure your reflexes would be quick enough. You were 17, stumbling over the smooth pavement, the depression you’d been trying to drown in alcohol making a reappearance. You were 17, thinking that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if it all ended there, just like this.

You were 17, standing in the airport with your parents, preparing to board the plane to Spain. You leaned in towards your mother for a hug. She avoided it, pinching your cheek lightly, and reminding your father that they had a dinner reservation to get to. You watched them walk out of the airport from your place in the security line. Your vision was blurred with tears, but you still could tell that they didn’t look back at you once. You were 17, and your mom hadn’t told you she loved you before you moved across the continent.

In a second, all of these memories that you’d fought so hard to keep locked away deep inside your head were flooding out. Tears were pricking your eyes, and you cursed yourself for being so stupid. Ingrid didn’t care. Mapi didn’t care. You weren’t worth caring about. How had you forgotten that? How had you let yourself forget that, after everything?

Ingrid didn’t see your expression change, too busy thanking Mapi’s parents profusely for coming to see her play. Mapi did, though. She watched as you caught sight of your sister talking to her mom, and she watched as you flinched like someone had swung at you. She watched as you slipped out of the crowd, speed walking into the building. Mapi was torn in 2 directions, Ingrid on one side, and you running off the other way. You needed Ingrid, most definitely but Mapi didn’t like the look on your face as you ran off, like all of the emotion had been sucked out of you, and all that was left was exhaustion.

Someone else had noticed your disappearing act, though. Caro stood, staring after you, before her gaze fell to Mapi, raising an eyebrow. The defender nodded, and Caro followed after you, while Mapi turned to her girlfriend. She pulled her away from her parents with an apologetic smile, appreciating that Alexia walked over and picked up the conversation where it had left off.

“Ingrid, vamos,” Mapi whispered urgently. Ingrid looked at her, confused and unmoving.

“What? I was in the middle of a conversation, María,” the Norwegian scolded.

“I know, it’s your Solstråle, though, she’s upset, come on,” Mapi insisted, pulling on Ingrid’s hand, who finally seemed to feel a sense of urgency, and let Mapi lead her into the building.

“Upset? Why? Did something happen?”

“She saw you with my mom and just looked really upset.” Mapi explained. A bit of understanding washed over Ingrid’s face, and now she was the one leading her girlfriend, rushing down the hall and beginning to open door after door in search of you.

Caro, meanwhile, had found you pretty easily. You were on the floor of a room she often came to when she was overwhelmed, although that happened much less these days. You knew Caro, obviously, and she knew you, had known you since you were pretty young. She had a calming presence, and the minute she sat next to you, and extended her hand in your direction, you took it gratefully.

“Mapi is bringing Ingrid.” She told you, but didn’t say anything else. She just sat next to your trembling form and held your hand. It was enough for now, enough until your sister arrived.

And when Ingrid did arrive, it was with a loud bang as she threw the door open, sighing in relief at the sight of you. Though, that relief quickly dissolved back into worry at the state you were in. She quickly took Caro’s place at your side, hesitantly wrapping an arm around your shoulders. Your sister was surprised when you turned and threw your arms around her neck, crying silently into her shirt.

“Jeg har deg, kjære. Det er greit, du er ok.” She murmured, looking worriedly at the other two women hovering in the doorway of the room. Mapi nodded at her encouragingly, and Ingrid refocused, rubbing a hand slowly up and down your back.

“Thank you,” Mapi muttered to Caro, as they both stepped into the hall to give you some space.

“Of course.” Caro said easily. “She having a hard time?”

“Which one?” Mapi asked wryly. “Yes. It’s… it’s a work in progress.”

“She’s a good kid.” Caro noted, Mapi nodding her head in agreement. “Well, Marta and I are around if either of you need anything.”

“Thank you, Caro. Really.” Mapi said, squeezing the forward’s shoulder. Caro just shrugged like it was no big deal, and headed back out to the pitch. When Mapi reentered the room, you were tucked perfectly into Ingrid’s lap, although you seemed to have calmed down some. Ingrid was speaking to you in hushed Norwegian, and something she said had you lurching away from her and to your feet, stumbling blindly to the door.

“Solstråle, wait,” Ingrid called, not really sure what she said to upset you, but well aware that it had been something. You fell right into Mapi’s arms, and though she looked a little startled, she easily pulled you close.

“Okay, it’s alright. We’re all okay.” She murmured, noticing the rather heartbroken expression on her girlfriend’s face at the fact that you had fled from her right into Mapi’s arms. After a few minutes, you said something quietly that neither girl could hear. “What was that, nena?”

“Can we go ho- back to the house?” You asked, correcting yourself quickly, and pulling away from the comforting embrace Mapi had you in. Ingrid felt like you’d stabbed her, honestly, when you didn’t let yourself call it home. You were stoic again, though, your face void of emotion, wiping roughly at your cheeks to rid them of tears.

“Kjære,” Ingrid said, hating the way you forced all evidence of your breakdown away. You’d been so upset, about something, but now you were acting as though nothing had happened. Your sister would have climbed into your brain if she could’ve, just to understand what was going on in there.

“Let’s go home.” Mapi said easily, shooting her girlfriend a meaningful look. Ingrid wasn’t supposed to push you, she knew that. It was just getting harder and harder to not do so, especially when she could see how much pain you were in. She couldn't understand why you wouldn’t just talk to her, and you couldn’t understand why she was so concerned or why she was so desperate to hear what you were feeling. And considering it was the two of you, the situation was bound to blow up into an argument. It was just a matter of time.

-------

Ingrid knew what was coming before her phone rang, but she still desperately wanted to avoid it. She was quite comfortable at the moment, curled up on top of Mapi in their bed, a show playing softly in the background. Mapi was scratching lightly at Ingrid’s scalp with one hand, and tracing lines over her back with the other. The movements made Ingrid’s entire body relax, which had definitely been Mapi’s goal, but it was all interrupted when her phone went off from next to her.

She sat up off her girlfriend, glancing at the screen, her expression hardening.

“Your mom?” Mapi guessed, pulling Ingrid back down into her when the Norwegian declined the call.

“Yes.”

“You haven’t talked to her since Solstråle’s letter, have you?”

“No.” Ingrid said. “I think I hate her right now.”

Mapi was surprised, only because Ingrid didn’t hate anyone. If there was going to be a person, though, it would be someone who had hurt you. Because Ingrid didn’t like to kill spiders she found in the house, but Mapi knew she would kill a person for you without a second thought. “That’s okay. You can hate her.”

“I miss her.” Ingrid admitted after another minute, her voice cracking. Her forehead was scrunched with sadness, and her hands gripped Mapi’s shirt tight in her hands.

Mapi sighed, wishing she could take Ingrid’s pain away. And yours too, for that matter. “You can miss her too. You can feel whatever you need to feel.”

“No, I can’t, not when Solstråle is so upset,”

“How your sister feels does not limit how you feel. You can be hurt, and sad, and frustrated too. It doesn’t take away from pequeña’s feelings. Just like her feelings don’t take away from yours. You are both upset. That’s alright.” Mapi said confidently. “This isn’t just happening to your sister. It’s happening to you, too, and you can be sad, mi amor. You can cry.”

Ingrid hadn’t even known she’d been about to cry until Mapi said that, but suddenly there were tears running down her face, and she was clutching tightly to the Spaniard underneath her, who did not seem surprised at all at the sudden emotion.

“I know, baby.” Mapi husked, pressing kiss after kiss to the top of Ingrid’s head. She knew Ingrid needed this, and was content to let her cry it out until she heard a sharp breath from the doorway. You were standing just outside the room, frozen and horrified.

“I’m sorry, Ing,” you mumbled, having come in to say goodnight, rather stunned to see your sister so distraught.

Ingrid could only cry harder, now furious with herself for letting you see this, but too upset to do anything but squeeze Mapi’s hand, wordlessly begging for her to do something.

“Ven aqui, nena, it’s alright.” Mapi said, gesturing you over to the bed. You looked skeptical, but you did so anyway, carefully sitting on the bed next to your sister.

“I’m really sorry, Ingrid, I don’t mean to stress you out.” You whispered. You were in a guilty mood, it seemed, not an angry one, and Ingrid felt that somehow, she preferred when you were angry to this.

“Don’t apologize, pequeña. You haven’t done anything wrong. Ingrid is upset, and you’re upset. It’s okay to be upset, and it’s okay to cry.” Sometimes, Mapi felt like she was teaching preschoolers how to identify and express their emotions when she talked to the both of you, though that might be an easier task.

“I’m not upset with you, Solstråle, I am upset with mom, and I am upset with myself. You don’t need to say sorry. Not for having a panic attack, for having a hard time, for any of it.” Ingrid managed then, taking your hand in hers.

“I’m doing my best.” You said. “I know I’m not making it easy, but I promise I’m trying.”

“We know you are. You’re doing so well, nena.” Mapi said enthusiastically, with so much excitement at you saying something remotely positive about yourself that you and Ingrid both cracked smiles.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Ingrid asked after a minute. At that, you withdrew, pulling your hand from Ingrid’s and rising from the bed. Both your sister and her girlfriend repressed sighs at your sudden withdrawal.

“No, I’m really tired. I came to say goodnight. I’ll see you guys in the morning.” You rushed out, before bolting out of the room at a speed that could barely be considered a walk.

Ingrid sighed once you were out of earshot, settling back into Mapi. “She’s so difficult.”

“She’s stubborn. Like her sister. She’ll come around, just give her time.” Mapi assured her.

Giving you time, though, was a lot harder than it seemed.

-------

Your whole life, you had been encouraged by your parents to be smaller, to take up less space. If you were upset, you should keep it to yourself. If you were angry, you should calm down. You were taught that your needs always came second to everyone else’s. You didn’t like to be vulnerable with people, and you didn’t like to put your emotions on others.

So when you woke up the next day, it was the feeling of intense shame swirling around inside of you. You’d ruined what was an impressive win for your sister, and a nice moment with Mapi’s parents. You’d upset Ingrid, so much so that she had cried about it.

Too much. You were being too much.

You resolved yourself to be happy today. If not happy, content. Mapi and Ingrid probably needed a day off from your ridiculous, all over the place, emotions. So today, you wouldn’t feel. You’d be perfect, you’d be small, and you’d cause as little trouble as possible.

What you didn’t expect, though, was for that to be the opposite of what Mapi and Ingrid wanted from you. They didn’t care if you took up space. They just wanted you to talk. More than anything, they just wanted you to be okay, no matter how inconvenient that process was for them.

It was a day off for both girls, due to the match the day before, and they were able to let you sleep in. Ingrid was worried you were sleeping too much, but Mapi assured her that angsty teens always needed a lot of sleep, and depressed teens going through a rough time needed even more sleep. Pair that with the intense panic attack you’d had the day before, you were bound to be exhausted.

When noon rolled around, though, and you’d yet to make an appearance, Mapi relented, much to Ingrid’s relief, who had half a mind to check you for a pulse. Mapi made a coffee to bring up to you, opening your door quietly to find you out cold under the covers.

With Snø clutched tightly in your arms, your nose pressed against the soft polar bear, you looked so young.

“Pequeña, despierta,” Mapi murmured, sitting on the edge of your bed and pulling the covers away from your face a bit.

You blinked up at her groggily, an adorably sleepy expression on your face, and Mapi couldn’t help but push some hair out of your face and smile down at you. You looked slightly suspicious, as you couldn’t remember being woken up like this in the entire time living in Spain, but Mapi just handed you your coffee, and settled on the edge of your bed.

“Morning,” you said after a minute and a rather large sip of coffee.

“Afternoon.” Mapi corrected, a little confused when your face turned red at the comment. “It’s 12:15.”

“That’s weird. Normally Ingrid comes to make sure I’m breathing if I sleep past 10.” You noted.

Mapi chuckled. “We’re working on some of your sister’s annoying habits.”

“Don’t get rid of too many, or there won’t be anything left.” You said, your lips tugging up into a smirk.

“Okay! I will just go through this chocolate croissant I made for you in the garbage!” Ingrid scoffed from the doorway, turning on her heel and marching back down the stairs.

If there was any surefire way to get you out of bed, it was to present you with a breakfast pastry.

Within 90 seconds, you had kicked Mapi out, thrown some clothes on and bounded down the stairs, in search of the promised croissant. It was sitting on a plate at the counter, waiting for you, next to your sister who was glaring at you slightly.

“Thank you, Ing,” you said sweetly, throwing her a charming smile. She rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless.

You hit Mapi’s hand playfully when she reached for your croissant, and she withdrew it with a laugh. “You’re like breakfast pastries the way Ingrid is about coffee.”

“Reasonable? Reasonably attached to it? Is that what you mean, María?” Ingrid asked with a frown.

“Of course, mi amor.” Mapi said with a smile, kissing Ingrid’s cheek softly. You averted your eyes, but you couldn’t lie and say that it didn’t make you happy to see your sister loved so well.

The morning, or afternoon, was going exactly as you’d hoped. No attempts at conversation. No feelings. Of course, it couldn’t last. Once you’d finished eating, Ingrid perked up and seemed to prepare herself for what she was about to say, which instantly made you weary.

“We should talk about last night, kjære.” Ingrid said calmly.

You froze, slowly putting your mug back on the counter. Both other girls watched the way your whole body tense, the way every ounce of emotion was wiped off your face.

“I’m fine. There’s nothing to talk about.” You said stiffly.

“That is not true. Something upset you, and we should discuss it.” Ingrid argued.

“Ingrid, it’s fine. Just leave it. We don’t need to talk about that. We don’t need to talk about anything.” You replied defensively.

“It’s not fine!” Ingrid said, raising her voice, and shaking off Mapi’s gestures to calm down. “None of this is fine. We need to talk about last night. We need to talk about the letter you wrote. We need to get you in therapy. These are all things that need to happen, solstråle. We’ve given you time, now we need to do this.”

“I am not going to therapy.” You declared, standing up with a scoff and crossing your arms across your chest. “Ingrid, I am fine. I don’t need to talk and I don’t need help.”

Ingrid grew visibly more angry with you at that, throwing her arms up in the air in frustration.

“Amor, take a breath.” Mapi said quietly, sighing to herself when Ingrid did not do so.

“You don’t need help? That is the most untrue thing I have ever heard. You do not write the things that you wrote and then turn around and say you’re fine. You. Need. Help.”

“Ingrid. I am not going to therapy, and I am done talking about this.” You said, your voice dangerously quiet.

Your sister wasn’t phased, stepping closer to you with her eyes narrowed. “You will go to therapy if I say you will, and this conversation is not over until I say it is.”

In retrospect, even Ingrid realized that this was decidedly the wrong thing to say. You didn’t take well to being told what to do. Your reaction really should have been worse; Ingrid had gotten off easy.

“Jesus, Ingrid, do you hear yourself? You sound just like mom.” You spit back, feeling a bit of satisfaction at the hurt that flashed across your sister’s face. “I don’t want to talk about this, especially not with you.” You spun around and began stomping towards the stairs. “Don’t fucking follow me.” You warned over your shoulder, causing Ingrid’s jaw to drop.

“Do not-” Ingrid began, starting after you.

“Amor, leave her.” Mapi said, intervening before Ingrid got very far, and pulling her back.

“She is the most frustrating person on the planet.” Ingrid huffed, slamming a hand down onto the counter. Mapi looked unimpressed.

“She is probably thinking the same thing about you right now. I told you not to push her.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “Could you be on my side here for once?” She asked bitingly.

Mapi very calmly shook her head, opening her mouth to explain when Ingrid’s eyebrows flew up on her forehead. “No. I am on your sister’s side, and you should be too. No one has been for a really long time.”

The Norwegian deflated at that, sinking down into one of the stools at the counter. Mapi continued speaking, pulling Ingrid’s hair gently out of the bun it was in, and running her fingers through it. “You’re looking at this wrong, mi amor. She doesn’t need you to talk her into therapy. She’ll get there on her own, you just need to give her time. That girl has a long way to go before she admits she needs help, believe me.”

Ingrid sighed deeply. “Can you go check on her? She’s mad at me, I just need you to make sure she’s okay and she isn’t going to do anything stupid.”

“Of course.” Mapi said, delicately kissing Ingrid’s lips. “I love you.” She reminded the Norwegian with a soft, almost shy smile.

Ingrid wanted to cry at how sweet, how perfect, how helpful and kind and funny and beautiful her girlfriend was. “I love you, so so much.”

Mapi headed for the stairs, and Ingrid made yet another cup of coffee, a coffee she wouldn’t drink.

Because Mapi came running back down the stairs a minute later, an apprehensive look on her face as she approached her girlfriend.

“Mi amor, she isn’t up there.” She said carefully.

“What do you mean she isn’t up there,” Ingrid asked, rising to her feet and feeling panic rise within her.

Mapi just shook her head, putting her hands on Ingrid’s shoulders. “She isn’t up there. Her window is open, I think she snuck out.”

Ingrid felt like something inside of her was collapsing, leaving behind a chasm that was quickly filling with anxiety. “Where… what? She… she’s gone? She…we have to-”

What had you left to do? Only horrible, life shattering options of where you were and what you were doing were flying through Ingrid’s head, and she reached out, latching on to Mapi’s outstretched hands.

“Amor, breathe. Calm down. We’ll find her. Where would she go?”

Mapi hoped, with everything in her, that Ingrid had an answer. Because she had to be calm right now, for Ingrid, but Barcelona was a big city. And if you didn’t want to be found… Mapi didn’t know what would happen.

Ingrid’s mind was racing, but one thought pushed to the front of everything else. “The lake, there’s a lake in Melhus she would always go to when she was upset. She’d go to water, a body of water.”

Mapi nodded. “Okay, there are 2 beaches in walking distance, in opposite directions. We’ll go to one, and we’ll send Frido to the other.”

Privately, Mapi hoped Frido found you first. She wasn’t quite sure that you wouldn’t bolt away from Ingrid, but you wouldn’t be expecting Frido to pop up.

-------

A quick call to Frido later, Mapi was directing one very frazzled Norwegian into the car, and setting off for the beach. Ingrid was deep in thought, and Mapi kept her hand on her girlfriend’s leg, softly and soothingly rubbing her thumb back and forth. It was only a few minutes to the beach, and Mapi knew Ingrid would talk before they arrived.

“Do you think she’d do something stupid?” Ingrid asked anxiously, her hand covering Mapi’s and gripping tightly. The Spaniard didn’t need her to explain what she meant; she knew this question was coming, really.

“She said she wouldn’t.” Mapi said calmly.

“She said she wouldn’t ‘do that to me,’ that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t do it, especially now that she’s mad at me.”

“This is a little fight. She wouldn’t… do that. Not over this.” Mapi reassured her, but Ingrid remained unconvinced.

“I don’t know what she’s thinking, María, maybe she was lying before.”

“Ingrid, mi amor, calm down. You have to trust her. Even when you’re scared, and even when it feels like you should take her bedroom door off the hinges and implant her with a GPS chip. You have to trust her not to hurt herself.”

“But what if she does?” Ingrid asked softly, as if saying the words loud enough would somehow will it into existence.

“We can’t think like that. Promise me you won’t think like that, okay?”

“Okay.” Ingrid agreed faintly. Both of them knew she was lying. It was all she’d been worrying about for days, and all she would worry about for many to come.

--------

Frido found you first. When she drove by the beach and didn't see you there, she got another idea. There was a rock climbing place nearby; Ingrid had said you always used to go to a lake back home when you were upset. Though Frido didn’t want to say so, it had been a long time since Ingrid had lived with you, and it wouldn’t have surprised her if your habits had changed. And the Swede knew from your instagram that you spent a lot of time rock climbing. She told Mapi where she was headed, and sped over to the gym.

Sure enough, as soon as she walked in the building, she spotted you in the middle of the hardest wall, seemingly only using the smallest holds to get yourself up. You were breathing hard, and the worker belaying you looked a bit concerned.

Frido pulled her phone out, shooting off a quick text to Mapi. “She’s here, she’s okay. Let me talk to her, don’t let Ingrid come in. I’ll bring her out.”

Ingrid probably wouldn’t help the situation, if you were as angry as you seemed. The blonde spoke quickly to the front desk attendant, and headed over to where you were.

She stood, just watching you. You were a few feet from the top now, luckily for your hands, which you clearly had not put enough chalk on, and were beginning to really hurt. With only a bit to go, you took a risk, attempting an impressive, one armed pull to get your other hand to the next hold. You just barely missed, falling away from the wall.

“Fuck,” you cursed, swinging back towards the wall and smacking it with your hand. You were lowered down, clearly fuming, and Frido took the opportunity to step in front of you, giving the girl attached to the other end of the rope a look.

“Again,” you requested, avoiding Frido’s gaze.

She took your hand in hers, though, inspecting the tear in your skin, shaking her head. “No, that’s enough Solstråle.”

“Leave me alone, Frido.” You snapped, trying to pull away from her when you felt the rope fall slack. You turned, seeing that the worker had abandoned her harness in favor of going to help someone else, no doubt at Frido’s direction.

You rolled your eyes, quickly regretting it when the Swede raised an eyebrow at you. Ingrid could be scary sometimes, but she had nothing on Frido.

“Are they here?” You asked, loosening the harness and stepping out of it with an exasperated sigh.

“They’re outside. You terrified your sister.” Frido said, pulling you over to a bench and making you sit down, before handing you a bottle of water.

You looked unimpressed. “I’m 18, I can handle myself in the city for an hour.”

“She wasn’t worried about that, she was worried you were going to hurt yourself.” Frido said bluntly, sitting down next to you. She ignored how stiff you’d grown and how uncomfortable you seemed, reaching for your hand and looking at it critically.

“That wasn’t on purpose.” You said defensively, wrenching your hand away once again. “And I told her I wouldn’t do that.”

“Can you blame her for worrying, Solstråle, really? And maybe you didn’t do that on purpose, but you came here to push yourself instead of dealing with your feelings in a healthy way.”

You really hated that she was right. Frido was always right. It was simultaneously her worst and best trait.

“Are they mad?” You asked in a small voice, suddenly looking very much your age. Frido stood and held out a hand to help you up.

“Not right now. Just worried. Ingrid’s going to give you a hug and you’re going to let her.” Frido instructed. You supposed that was fair. And really, you could use a hug. Hugs from your sister always made you feel better, even if you’d never admit it.

As you exited the building, you instantly spotted your sister and her girlfriend by their car. Mapi was leaning calmly against the Cupra, while Ingrid was pacing frantically, speaking fast and gesturing wildly with her hands.

“Did I do that?” You asked quietly.

Frido laughed. “I think she was born like that.”

As you neared the car, Ingrid turned as Mapi pointed at you, her face melting with relief at the sight of you. It really hit you, then, how worried she must have been, to still be so anxious even after Frido had likely told her you were okay. You weren’t making this easy on your sister.

She practically knocked you over with the force of her hug. “You’re okay.” She murmured into the top of your head, leaving a kiss there.

“I’m okay.” You reiterated, letting yourself hug her back tightly, even if it was just for a moment. She felt you tighten your arms around her almost unconsciously, and made a note to hug you more often. Even if it seemed like you weren’t very interested. After a minute she pulled back, placing both hands on your cheeks and making you look at her.

“Next time leave through the front door? And tell me where you’re going? Please?” She asked. You appreciated that she didn’t tell you to do this, leaving it more as a request, although you knew it was a reasonable rule for her to put in place.

“Promise.” You said quietly. She nodded her head, satisfied, before pulling Frido into a hug that also looked to be too tight. Mapi was looking at you, rather unimpressed. You knew she was not happy with you for upsetting your sister so much, and though it annoyed you a bit, you knew it was deserved. And you appreciated that your sister had someone that was so protective over her.

“In the car, nena. I want to talk to you when we get home.” Mapi instructed. You got in the car with no argument, the fight having gone out of you a bit. It had nothing to do with the hug Ingrid had given you, nothing at all. Definitely not. Instead of anger, you only felt apprehension, because Mapi looked dead serious about whatever she wanted to talk about.

-------

You were nothing short of shocked when Mapi opened the door to the garage and gestured you inside upon arriving home. Ingrid watched on anxiously, and you pretended not to see the way Mapi whispered some reassurance to her and kissed her cheek, before pointing her towards the kitchen

You’d never been in the garage before; it was Mapi’s space. You were already invading her home, you wouldn’t invade the one place of the house that was really hers, too. You knew she worked something out there, knew there was a reason both cars parked in the driveway instead of in the garage.

Mapi followed you into the room and sat down on a stool next to the large motorcycle in the middle of the garage. It was clearly in the process of being restored. You hadn’t known Mapi rode motorcycles. Well, you hadn’t known that your sister let Mapi ride a motorcycle. You stood awkwardly in the door as Mapi inspected 2 different wrenches, until she pointed at the stool next to her.

“Ven aqui, nena.” She said.

You took a seat, not really enjoying the tense silence that washed over the room. “Are you mad at me?” You asked after a minute. For all your anger, and all your bravado, you didn’t like it when people were mad at you. Especially not people you looked up to, people you admired.

“No. Not mad, nena. Never mad. I wish you hadn’t snuck out your window, but I understand why you did. I wish sometimes you thought a bit more about how your actions affect me and your sister, but I know how hard that is to do when you’re as angry as you are.”

“I’m not angry.” You said defensively. Mapi rolled her eyes, handing you a couple of tools and beginning to tighten something on the bike.

“You are angry. You’re so angry that you feel like you’re going to explode sometimes. You’re so angry that sometimes you forget that you’re sad, too. You’re angry, and you’re hurt, and I cannot blame you for that. If anyone has a right to those emotions, it’s you.” You didn’t really enjoy being perceived so well, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. “I know angry, nena. Do you remember when I hurt my knee?”

You nodded. The first few weeks of Mapi's injury hadn’t been a fun time, your sister beyond stressed with dealing with Mapi’s injury and her new role in the team, and you’d tried hard to be on your best behavior.

“I started working on this bike a year ago, when everything happened with the Spanish federation. It was Ingrid’s idea, a way for me to distract myself. When I hurt my knee, it had been a bit since I’d worked on it, but suddenly I was back in this garage until all hours of the night. It’s nice to be able to control something like this, when everything else feels out of your control. That is how climbing is for you, yes?”

You relaxed a bit at the turn the conversation was taking, and Mapi wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t just the topic; it was the fact that she wasn’t staring at you, putting pressure on you to give her an answer she wanted to hear. You were just talking. Casually.

“Yeah. I’m in control, and I don’t have to think about anything else. It’s relaxing.”

“It’s good for you to have an outlet like that.” Mapi stated. “This bike was Ingrid’s idea, when we first got together. Do you know what her other idea was?”

You were pretty sure you did, and you grimaced at the thought. “Therapy?”

Mapi snorted, handing you the wrench she was using and taking the screwdriver from your hand. “Yes therapy. You don’t have to look at it like that, though, it doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”

“It’s not for me.” You said decisively.

Mapi just shrugged. “I didn’t think it was for me either.” She paused, knowing your curiosity would get the better of you, and you’d ask for more information.

“What changed your mind?” You asked after a minute.

“Your sister did. After the euros, I had a hard time coming back to Barça and playing. Those weeks were some of the hardest of my life, trying to find my rhythm again but trying to recover from the stress I’d been under that summer. I was a mess. And Ingrid was right there with me, through all of it. I’d had a really bad day, and I asked Ingrid to come home early from a lunch she had. She came home, calmed me down, and afterwards, she asked me if I trusted her. I said I did. And she said that she really wanted me to try therapy. That I didn’t have to feel how I felt, and I deserved help. I deserved to not be miserable. She asked me to try it, for her, just give it a try.”

“And you did.”

“And I did. Because she’d done so much for me, I couldn’t refuse her request. Not when I knew she just wanted the best for me. I gave it a shot, and it helped, more than anything else had helped. It wasn’t a fix all, but it helped. It made me feel like I was doing something to get better.”

Mapi abandoned her work on the bike, looking at you for the first time since you’d entered the garage. You could only see sincerity in her gaze. Not anger, but annoyance. Just sincerity. “You deserve help, Solstråle. No matter how you feel about yourself, Ingrid and I know you. And we know you deserve help. You’re a good person, and you deserve to be happy.”

María sounded so sure. So completely convinced. You looked away from her, blinking hard.

“You don’t have to agree to anything now. Keep an open mind about it. Think about it. Okay?”

“Okay.” You agreed quietly, grateful that Mapi didn’t make a big deal out of it, only nodding slightly.

“One more promise?” She asked.

“What?”

“Talk to us. Or just me, or just Ingrid. We’re a little lost here, nena. It feels like we were just kind of plopped down in the middle of this. We had no idea anything was going on, not really. And all of a sudden we’re reading that letter, and realizing we missed a lot. That’s on us; we should have noticed sooner. We don’t have the whole picture, though, and that makes it really hard for us to figure out how to help you. We’ll both worry a lot less if you talked to us, just a little bit.”

That was reasonable, you had to admit. When she put it like that. You’d spent so much time being annoyed that no one had noticed, then being annoyed when they finally did notice, you hadn’t really spent a ton of time thinking about how little they knew. There was no context to your behavior, aside from what you’d put in the letter. And that just barely scratched the surface. You supposed they deserved an explanation. At least a bit of one.

“I’ll try.” You promised.

Mapi grinned at you this time, an infectious smile. “Bueno! Come here with that wrench. No, that one. Put it on this bolt. Twist.”

And just like that, the conversation was over. Easily. You got the feeling that Mapi would have let it go if you’d insisted on it, but you miraculously felt better. Talking, listening had made you feel better. Mapi had made you feel better.

-------

You both emerged from the garage around an hour and a half later, when the smell of baking cookies became too strong to resist. Ingrid had clearly been stress baking, one of your favorite of her habits. There were at least 3 different types of cookies on the counter, some done baking, some still in progress. It smelled so distinctly of home in the house, it was almost overwhelming.

“I have something for you,” Ingrid said, drying her hands and stepping away from the counter when you walked into the room.

“I can see that.” You said, nodding to the cookies appreciatively, but Ingrid shook her head.

“No, something else.” Ingrid said.

“OH! I do too.” Mapi said excitedly, and they both disappeared in different directions. You stood bewildered in the kitchen, not quite sure what you were about to be given.

They returned simultaneously, each holding what looked to be 2 frames. “Mapi’s first.” Ingrid directed. “I haven’t seen it yet.”

You looked surprisingly at Mapi, taking the present and beginning to unwrap the wrapping paper. “What is this for?” You asked.

“Your birthday.” Ingrid said quietly. You froze momentarily, an unreadable expression flashing across your face. “I know it seems like we forgot, but we didn’t. We got the dates messed up, but we had presents, and we had dinner reservations, just… for the 25th. Not the 15th.”

“Oh. I thought you’d forgotten.” You said slowly, seemingly slightly emotional.

“Nope, just bad at remembering dates. Now open your present.” Mapi said impatiently, bouncing on her feet like an overexcited child.

You unwrapped it slowly, as if you were slightly weary of what it might be. When you pulled the frame from the wrapping paper, though, every wall you’d put up fell instantly, your jaw dropping open at the piece of art in your hands.

It was a map. Not just a map, but a map of all the hiking trails in Barcelona. It was textured, detailed, labeled. It was intricate, all neutrals and earthy colors. It was so you. From the contents to the design, it was like it had been made just for you.

“Mapi…” You whispered, staring, stunned, at the map. “Where did you… how did you… what?”

“Ale’s sister Fresa went to school with this girl that hand makes maps like this. I got her name from diablillo, and I told her what I wanted. Do you like it, do you like it?” Mapi asked excitedly.

Mapi got her answer when you handed the frame to Ingrid, and launched yourself the few feet between you and Mapi, wrapping her in a tight hug. Mapi beamed at Ingrid, who was trying very hard not to cry. She hadn’t even given Mapi any advice on the gift. It had been all her girlfriend’s idea, she executed it all by herself, determined to get Solstråle the perfect gift.

“It’s perfect, thank you María,” you mumbled. The ridiculous smile on Mapi’s lips didn’t falter at the use of her real name, only squeezing you tighter.

“Te amo, Solstråle.” She said back. For once, you believed it. When you pulled away from the hug, it was to see Mapi looking smugly at your sister. “INGRID I DEFINITELY WON.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “She hasn’t even opened my present yet.”

“Still. I won.” Mapi smirked.

Now it was Ingrid’s turn to hand you your gift. It was wrapped in the same paper, and you tore it off, almost cautiously, not quite sure what Ingrid would have gotten you.

You were, once again, speechless at what you saw. This time, your eyes filled with tears immediately. Ingrid wasn’t as excited as Mapi had been, instead looking at you anxiously.

It was a painting of a waterfall back home not far from your house. It was so distinct, you knew Ingrid must have paid a ridiculous amount of money to get someone to hand paint it. Each individual stroke was so precise, blending perfectly into the image it was supposed to be, but if you focused hard, you could pick out the greens and greys and blues and whites that you’d grown up with.

It felt like home. It felt comforting. You could almost smell the trees, feel the cool sting of wind on your cheeks. It was a little piece of home just for you, and it was perfect. So beautiful and artistic that you weren’t sure you were worthy of it, but you looked at it in awe nonetheless. You wiped at your cheeks, not able to control the tidal wave of emotion washing over you.

“Kjære? Is it okay?” Ingrid asked anxiously, her eyes searching your face, trying to figure out if these were good tears or bad tears.

You let out an incredulous laugh. “Okay? Ingrid… it’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s… perfect. Thank you.” You said, turning to her with a look of complete shock. And even though it pained Ingrid that you were so surprised to receive a nice gift for your birthday, she pushed that feeling down. Instead, she pulled you in towards her, placing the frame on the counter so she could hug you properly. You were happy with it, now, and that was all Ingrid had control over.

After a few seconds, Ingrid moved to pull away and break the hug, but you kept your arms wrapped around her, not quite ready to let go yet. Maybe it was the homesickness, or maybe it was your sister making you feel so known, and so loved. Whatever the reason, you just wanted her near you for a minute more, holding you nice and tight and safe against her.

“I love you,” she whispered, hearing you mumble the words back, your voice thick with emotion. When you did pull away, a minute later, it was to wipe at your face in an almost embarrassed manner.

Seeing how desperate you were for the attention to be off your tears, Mapi spoke up, her voice light and easy. “You can put them up in your room, you don’t have anything on the walls.”

You looked at the ground, then, almost sheepishly. “I didn’t know I could put anything up on them.” You admitted.

The room fell quiet, but even though you could tell that what you said had hurt Ingrid and Mapi, they just shook their heads softly. “It’s your room, for good, you can do whatever you want to it.” Ingrid told you.

You were about to thank her, and try to move the conversation long when Mapi let out a dramatic gasp. Both you and Ingrid whipped your heads to look at her, confused at the mischievous grin on her face.

“Ikea. WE CAN GO TO IKEA AND GET FURNITURE FOR SOLSTRÅLE’S ROOM.”

“María, calm down. Maybe she doesn’t want to redo her room.” Ingrid looked at you hopefully, and you knew it had nothing to do with your room, and everything to do with her not wanting to take Mapi to ikea.

You simply smirked back at Ingrid, who sighed and shut her eyes for a minute.

“Okay. Ikea.” She said finally. You and Mapi cheered, comically loudly, completely ignoring the rules she was setting in favor of high fiving each other and going to get ready to leave. “María, you are not building anything. Solstråle does not need her bed to collapse under her in the middle of the night. And kjære, please, please, don’t let Mapi talk you into a loft bed, you’ll fall off of it and break your arm. Amor? Kjære? ARE EITHER OF YOU LISTENING!” Ingrid shouted after you, rolling her eyes at the chants of ikea echoing around the house.

Mapi in Ikea was a handful. You, too, were a handful at the store. Together? She was going to lose one of you, she was sure of it. It had been a long day already. And it was only set to get longer.

--------

fluffy engen-león family trying to put furniture together in the next part?

yes, that IS all i have to say about this chapter thank you for your time.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #ingrid engen x mapí leon #ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon x reader #engen!reader #platonic reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics #sol☀️#🍓☀️

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gracieheartspedro · 18 days ago

Text

Make Me Feel

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x rockstar!gareth emerson x fem! reader

word count: 7.1k words

description: you fly out to reunite with your rockstar boyfriend eddie munson. after a long day, you decide to return to his bed on the tour bus, but it seems like it is already occupied by his bandmate, gareth.

warnings: 18+ content, MDNI, no use of y/n, rockstar au, all participates are 18+, mentions of alcohol and substances, reader is established as eddie's girlfriend, gareth has crush on reader, mentions of reader having hair but no other characteristics described, groupies, threesome activities, voyeurism, dry humping, tons of dirty talk, spanking, oral (v receiving), v and anal fingering, rough unprotected sex, face grabbing, multiple orgasms, light choking, possessive eddie, cum eating/feeding.

authors note: hey... hey... how y'all doing? lmfao, happy valentine's day! i have been hunkered down for days trying to finish this insane idea and let me tell you... it was horny times. i loved writing for eddie already, and i decided after reading @the-unforgivenn's masterpieces with gareth, that I too would like to add that man to the mix. wanna thank my babies @amanitacowboy, @pedgito, and @chaotic-mystery for supporting this insanity as well. enjoy!

how to help palestine ~ dividers by @cafekitsune

It had been three months.

Three months since you saw your boyfriend, Eddie.

Tour had taken up his entire life since his band’s new album “Asylum” came out in January, and you fucking missed him so much. He had told you countless times to come out and visit him, but your job was holding you hostage with a bunch of stupid deadlines. You were simply just waiting for him to come home to your shared condo in LA.

But after one too many missed assignments, your job decided it was best to let you go because your head was somewhere else. And it was. It was constantly occupied on what your boyfriend could be getting up to while on the road with his bandmates.

You called Eddie that night, twisting the home phone’s cord around your finger as you spoke about how your boss called you into his office and told you that you were dismissed. Eddie was pissed, telling you that he would give your boss a piece of his mind. You told him there was no need, you did not feel like fighting for a job that useless.

“Well, we got four more shows left. Tomorrow is in Austin, Texas. I will be home in like a week, baby. I’m so fuckin’ excited to see you.”

You could not stand another week. You needed to feel him. Touch him.

When you got off the phone, you booked the next flight to Austin. Tomorrow morning at 7AM. That would do. Once you got your official booking, you called Gareth. When he picks up the phone, you can tell from his slurred speech that he’s one, drunk, and two, very confused.

“What’s up darlin’?” His voice rasps through the speaker.

“Hey, I’m surprising Eddie tomorrow and coming to the Austin show. You think you could make sure your management knows and I can get backstage?”

You can hear Gareth’s shuffling, isolating himself somewhere more private, “You are coming to Austin?”

“Yes. I’m surprising Eddie. Make sure will call has passes for me, please.”

His voice sobers, “Of course. I’m… We are excited to see you.”

Gareth was probably your favorite member of Corroded Coffin, other than Eddie, of course. He was sickeningly sweet to you. You chalked it up to how close he and Eddie have been since childhood. He knew you meant the world to Eddie. Plus, he enjoyed your swift and funny banter.

Little do you know, Gareth harbors a small crush on you.

You were strictly off limits but he could not help but let his gaze fall on you longer than what was needed.

“See you tomorrow, Gare!”

You were on the verge of tears.

Your flight had been delayed all day. You were not going to make it to the show if the next flight out cancelled again. The kiosk worker said it was because it was too windy for takeoff and most flights had been canceled for the rest of the day. You were at the mercy of the fucking wind.

But by the grace of whatever god, you were boarding a flight at 1PM, which meant you would miss the show and arrive by 8PM. But you still had the chance to catch them after the show, you told yourself.

When you land, you hail the first taxi you see and tell them to race to the arena where your boyfriend is performing. You only brought a backpack, stuffed full of some random assortment of clothing and toiletries. You throw it in the backseat, tapping on the buckles as your anxiety spikes.

Traffic was a nightmare, the city bustling with people attending the show and or, getting fucked up on a Friday night. When the cab screeches to a halt at the very front of the arena, you throw them two $20 bills and sling your backpack over your shoulder. Scalpers approached you immediately, asking if you wanted a shot at catching the band’s last song, but you practically push them to get to the will-call stand. You get the lady’s attention by your insane expression, hurriedly telling her your name and why you are there.

She smiles widely, her wrinkles reflecting her surprise. “We thought you weren’t gonna come! Let me get security to escort you back.”

As soon as you cross into the area, you hear Eddie’s voice over the speakers, wishing everyone a good night. Before you know it, you are guided down some random corridors under the arena. The halls are narrow and you catch yourself knocking your jam-packed bag into the brick walls. It’s so loud, different sounds bouncing off the not-sound-proof walls.

You finally are let backstage which has tons of people bustling around taking large metal boxes off the stage and towards other hallways. Everything was so scrambled and confusing, so it’s reassuring the moment you lock eyes with Gareth. He’s sweaty, his cheeks red and his shirt completely off, displaying some new artwork you haven’t seen before.

“There you are!” He cheers, racing over to you. His glistening skin does not shy you away from giving him an embrace. You giggle as he shakes you excitedly.

“I’m sorry, my flights got all fucked up. But I’m here!” You release him, pulling away to get a good look at him, “Where’s my boy?”

His smile widens even more, taking your hand as he guides you around a crowd of crew and groupies. Walking hand in hand with Gareth gets you some odd glances from pretty girls, which gives you a confidence boost.

When you get to the door marked “Eddie Munson”, your heart is beating straight out of your chest. You had been so nervous this whole time, that you had really no time to get excited. You look at Gareth, releasing his hand and knocking furiously on the door. You take a deep breath when you hear footsteps bounding towards the door.

“What the f-,” His voice is deep and somewhat annoyed, but the moment his eyes land on you, it’s like his entire body relaxes. His big brown doe eyes are enough to take your breath away. His hair is wet and tangly across his forehead. He looks so broad. And naked?

“Surprise!”

It’s the first thing that you can think to say. You can’t say anything else because Eddie’s arms fly around you, pulling you into a big bear hug. His body is so warm, setting you alight almost immediately. “Baby, what are you doing here?!”

You pull away, your hands going up to touch his face. You missed cradling his jaw in your hands when you looked at him or kissed him. “I am surprising you! Surprise!”

“Yeah, you said that!” He presses a kiss into your palm, “I’m so happy to see you, sweetheart.”

You look back at Gareth, whose smile is so wide it warms your entire body. He waves a simple goodbye to you, letting Eddie drag you into his dressing room.

Eddie is quick to get you in his lap. He knew the moment he got his hands on you, he would not want to let go of you. You are propped up on his thighs, telling him about the dramatic day you had while he peppered kisses all around your neck.

“Are you even listening to me, baby?” You pester, poking at his still-nude chest. He had managed to put on some sweats before he pulled you onto his lap.

He chuckles, pulling away to sit back on the leather couch. “Of course, I am, sweetheart. Just missed you way too much.”

The sparkle in his eye sends a smile spreading across your face. The days seemed so long without him and while you supported his career and loved that he followed his dreams, you miss the simple pleasures in life with him. Waking up in the same bed. Going grocery shopping together. Doing dishes and singing along to your favorite songs. Ever since Corroded Coffin took off, you have been grieving that life.

Seeing him happy was all that mattered, though. His hard work allowed you two a comfortable life and you knew that’s all Eddie ever wanted to give you.

You slide out of his lap when there’s a knock on the door. The tour manager comes in, his eyes never even meeting your eyes as he directs Eddie to hurry up and get packed up. He’s short in stature, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. You assume he does not look your way due to the fact that most rockstars keep random girls around all the time and there cannot be conflicts of interest with his talent. Before he can shut the door, Eddie stops him.

“Roger, this is my girlfriend. She’s gonna be tagging along tonight,” Eddie states simply, standing up to almost present you to the man. You nod timidly as the guy finally glances at you.

“Nice to meet you, kid. Keep this boy in check, he’s been a pain in my ass all week. He and Gareth are pests.”

And then he shuts the door, not saying another word. You raise your eyebrows at Eddie, unsure how to react to such a claim. Eddie purses his lips, the sides of his mouth pointing up slightly.

You crook your head, “What have you been putting that poor man through?”

“Nothin’. Gareth has been more of a shithead than me. Won’t stop kidnapping women and bringing them over state lines.”

You lock onto his arm, your eyebrows dropping in confusion. What did he mean by that?

“And you?”

“Last week of tour is prank central. I pelted him with water balloons when he was leaving a porta potty yesterday.”

Him being the more innocent of the two throws you for a loop. Gareth being the real problem is shocking. While a hellion like Eddie, he was definitely the more tame one. Eddie was always dragging him into the pits of chaos, not the other way around.

You loosen your grip as Eddie starts to head over to his vanity to collect all his belongings into a frayed duffle bag. “Gareth is kidnapping women?”

“Not on purpose. He brings them on the bus to fuck and then when he is supposed to take them back to security, he just doesn’t. A girl made it to Chicago from Louisville and Roger had to book her a flight home.”

You shake your head, your hand resting on your forehead. You could not imagine having that poor man’s job. You would murder all of the band before the first show could even go on.

“He’s right, you two are pests.”

You and Eddie walk hand in hand down the long corridor that opens up to the back lot of the arena. On the way out, Eddie stops at craft services to load up his duffle with random snacks he says “They don’t have them on the bus”, which you know is a big fat lie. You could bet money their snack cabinet is filled to the brim with snacks and restocked the moment they start to run low.

Jeff walks by you two, his face twisting in surprise when he recognizes you. You stand in the hall, catching up with him. You can tell he’s high off something because his eyes are half shut when he talks. Like a magic trick, a flask appears in his hand and he raises it to you and Eddie.

“See you lovebirds on the bus!”

Eddie wraps his arm around your waist, a sly giggle releasing from his throat, “Mans off his ass every night. He probably won’t even make it to his bunk.”

Your fingers trace his arm, wrapping your finger through one of his bracelets, “Do you have a bunk?”

“Oh no, princess, I have the queen-sized bed in the very back of the bus. We will be very comfy tonight.”

You finally climb the steps onto the bus. It’s weirdly freezing as you make it to the very top, taking in the space. It’s a mess to put it lightly. Jeff is already making himself at home on the scratchy-looking couch. Grant is propped up next to a very pretty girl, his arm slung around her possesively. It is weird to see the boys living the life of rock stars. You knew your boyfriend entertained some parts of the life, mainly the alcohol and drugs, but with the way he’s wrapped around your finger, you seriously doubt any infidelity. You also knew if he did try something like that, Gareth or one of the other boys would come running to you to rat him out.

Eddie would never, though. You were his everything.

You give Grant a gentle wave, moving your way through the back of the bus. Before you and Eddie make your way to the door at the very end of the hall, Grant speaks up.

“Gareth’s in there!”

Eddie’s hand drops from your back as he shimmies past you in the tight corridor. He presses his ear up to the door, but you do not even need to do that to hear what is happening in the room. On Eddie’s bed.

Eddie cracks the door a bit, getting an eyeful of Gareth completely going to town on a girl, who he surely does not recognize.

Eddie rolls his big brown eyes, annoyed and ready to break down the door. You stop him, though. An idea sprouts in your head. Something a bit unhinged.

“It’s prank week, Eds. Why don’t we… prank him?”

Eddie’s face relaxes, his jaw going slack. “Prank him? How?”

You ponder your options for a moment. You could sneak in there and scare him? You could have Eddie go up behind him and slap his ass or something?

You smile when the idea hits you.

“Why don’t we stumble in there acting like we are trying to get it on and just fall onto the bed next to them? That’ll rattle him.”

Eddie’s pride shines through his expression. “You’re a dream, baby. So smart and so pretty. You know that?”

He drops the bag onto the floor, as your heart pounds at the fact that he agreed so quickly to your plan.

Eddie grabs you roughly, his eager kiss turning into something more the moment he slides the wooden door open. You hear a sharp gasp the moment you two step into the small confines, but you know not to pull away from Eddie to see who it came from. His hands are expanding under the t-shirt that’s loosely hanging off your body, fondling the flesh of your hips and back. You are walking forward, while he is dragging you with him, his heels hitting the end of the bed before falling onto the bed with a bounce.

The slapping of skin has completely halted by the time Eddie’s lips leave yours and is instead replaced with the sounds of sheets rustling.

“What the fuck!” Gareth’s voice pierces through the room, ringing in your ears. Eddie’s eyes do not leave your face as you both smile wickedly at the plan working out exactly the way you wanted.

You do not look at Gareth, instead, you face the pretty little thing he’s been fucking. Her widened eyes reflected her absolute horror at you and Eddie’s entrance.

She reflected a lot of your physical attributes, but she was just smaller. She was probably a bit older than you as well, her makeup caking around her forehead where her face must’ve been twisted in pleasure. After taking her in, you finally glance over at Gareth.

Big mistake.

He’s glistening with sweat, his curls a mop of mess on his head. He only covers his dick with his hands, leaving the rest of his body on display. You had just seen him shirtless, but there was something more to look at. The expanse of his hipbones and long legs that are littered with random tattoos. He was more covered than Eddie was, which for some reason sends your mind reeling.

You had to keep going along with the bit. “I’m sorry, Eddie said this was his bed.”

Eddie perks up, finally peeling his eyes away from your lingering gaze on Gareth. “It is.”

Your eyes falter back to the girl lying naked under the covers next to Eddie.

“What’s your name?” You probe, your fingers dancing across Eddie’s shoulders. You wanted to be touching him, making sure you maintained your coolness. The girl’s expression shifts over to Gareth, who just shrugs at her.

“Emily,” She responds, her voice small and hesitant. With the way she was moaning, you expected her to have a bit more conviction. Eddie’s hands rest on the back of your thighs, keeping you right between his spread legs. Gareth noticed it immediately, his Adam’s apple bobbing at the sight.

“Emily… I like that name,” You utter, the coldness of Eddie’s rings sending goosebumps down your legs. His every touch was distracting you.

“It’s a very pretty name,” Eddie adds, staring up at your face as he sits back a bit more on the bed. He does not dare look at the other girl, knowing that the only sight he wants to look at right now is you.

“Edd-”

“Gare, why did you stop?” You inquire, your eyes are unyielding as you let them settle back on his face. “Emily seemed to be enjoying herself.”

“You two walked in-”

“And?” Eddie presses, dragging you forward so you are fully mounted on his lap, your knees pressing into the mattress on each side of his hips.

You drag your tongue slowly across your top teeth, ticking it as you shoot Emily a glance. For some reason, this was not just a silly little prank to fuck with Gareth. You strangely wanted to watch Gareth at work. You and Eddie had talked about joining other people in the bedroom in the past, but you knew better than to add a random groupie to such affairs. So you would settle on just watching your long-time friend and your boyfriend’s bandmate fuck a stranger.

“Do you want him to continue, Emily?”

She looks nervous under your regard, which only sends you more on a power trip. You did not know this girl and you would probably never see her again.

Eddie’s hands find your ass, squeezing both cheeks and spreading them apart. It makes your hips rock against his crotch. You can audibly hear how wet you are and it makes Eddie chuckle, a rasp in the back of his throat. You place your hands on the nape of his neck, holding on to steady yourself before you start grinding harder on him involuntarily.

When her head jerks for ‘yes’, you smile and look back at Gareth.

“Give her what she wants, Gare.”

The air in your lungs is literally stolen from your body when Gareth drops his hands from his dick. You did not expect such a thing from him. Long, girthy, and so fucking pretty. The extra saliva in your mouth almost dribbles down your lips when you watch him rip the top sheet off of her body.

By the look on your face, Eddie realizes you are liking this a whole lot more than he is. He swats your ass, gaining your attention again. You grab his neck with your hands, your nails leaving small scratches across his throat. You arch your back, leaning forward and capturing Eddie’s plump pink lips. He is all teeth when you open your mouth to deepen the kiss, which makes you moan a bit.

All the tension you have built up in the last couple of months is now being released and it makes you aggressive. When his teeth graze your tongue, you push him onto his back as you adjust your hips to completely line up your clothed cunt against the tightness in his pants.

The whole time you two have been battling dominance, you realize Gareth has dragged Emily’s frame to the side of the bed, lining his cock up with her perfectly shaved cunt. When he sinks into her, the moan she lets out is pornographic. With one experimental thrust into her, he returns back to the steady pace he was at when you and Eddie just listened to him through the door.

You roll your body on Eddie’s lap, resting your hands on his chest. His body responds to your touch, lurching his hips upward to meet your circling hips. His hands grips onto your thighs, holding you down so you cannot stray away from the friction. You flick your head back to watching Gareth, his pace speeding up as he grunts about how tight Emily is.

“You better make her cum first, Gareth,” You mock, your voice dripping in lust. His eyes snap up to you, his brows furrowed in concentration. Eddie’s hands are burning into your hips, his focus solely on making you cum by simply dry-humping him.

Gareth flicks his curls away from his forehead, leaning over Emily’s smaller frame as he sharpens his angle and grinds his pelvic bone into her swollen clit. She’s writhing under him, completely taken by his performance.

“You want to watch her fall apart on my cock, honey?”

Gareth’s eyes are lasered in on you, your face twisted in pleasure as Eddie starts to move your hips for you. You are so enamored by the question that it steals your voice. Eddie sits up again, his arms wrapping around you, locking your arms behind your back. It’s like he’s putting you in a human straight jacket.

His mouth connects with your jaw as you dry hump him, his voice coming out strained. “Gareth asked you a question, princess.”

You feel your cunt clench around nothing and you are panting. You did not expect those words from Eddie, who was usually possessive and jealous when any guy even gave you a glance. Now he’s playing into Gareth’s game? How did you get here?

You nod, your chest rising and falling in Eddie’s face. You cannot look at Gareth as you say it, so you just squeeze your eyes shut. “Yes, please.”

Due to the close proximity, Gareth’s wing span is long enough to touch you. Instead of a gentle caress, he’s grabbing your face, his fingers pinching your cheeks together. Eddie says nothing, just smirking devilishly at his actions.

“Eyes open. Key word was watch.”

When you open your eyes, Gareth’s face is inches from yours. His steel blue eyes are practically black, his pupils are beyond dilated. You blink slowly, seeing Emily’s twisted expression while the man that’s fucking her is holding onto your jaw. With the way she’s groaning, you know she’s nearing her end, and so are you. Eddie’s one hand locks your wrists behind your back while the other makes its way groping your braless chest over the black fabric of your t-shirt.

Your hips still as the stimulation becomes too much and your cunt spasms even though it’s not filled. Emily matches your moment, her arms lurching upward to grab onto Gareth’s arms as she falls apart on his spearing cock. The moans coming from the room are enough to alarm on the bus, for sure. Her long drawn-out sobs are much louder than your whines, but it was no competition.

Gareth does not finish, just pulls out of her and continues to jerk his soaked dick. Eddie releases your hands, letting you settle against him as your body recovers from your orgasm.

“Gather your clothes, Emily. The security outside the bus will bring you back to the arena,” Gareth directs, backing up so the absolutely spent girl could come to her senses enough to get dressed. You look away as she stands up, focusing your eyes back on Eddie. He’s smiling still, the glint in his eye mischievous.

You felt bad for the girl. She just got to fuck a rockstar, probably one she admires, and now he’s escorting her off the tour bus without really finishing the job. As he guides her to the door, you half expect him to gather his own clothes off the floor.

But he does not do that. Instead, he’s bounding over to the bed, sitting down right next to Eddie.

Eddie’s hands rub up and down your thighs, before he clears his throat. “Did you need something, Gareth?”

You finally peel your eyes away from Eddie, looking over at Gareth’s narrowing expression. His lips are pursed in contemplation. Gareth’s cock is still covered in a condom. When he notices your eyes on him, he slowly drags it off his dick, discarding it on the floor. You feel a dribble of sweat drop down into your eyebrow, not realizing that your body is covered in a layer of glistening sheen.

“Your girl, Munson.”

Your stomach flips as you tug your lip between your teeth, trying your best to not smile. You do not know how Eddie was going to respond to such a revelation, but the thought of being able to get both of them in one night was enough to send your head spinning.

Eddie shrugs, nonchalantly. He starts tilting your face towards his with his pointer finger, “You want that, sweetheart?”

You let the tension in your face go, finally settling on a smirk as your eyes rested on Eddie’s lips.

“As long as I get your dick first, baby.”

Gareth chuckles dryly beside you, his hand grazing the arm you have wrapped around Eddie’s shoulders. “Eddie, you lucky bastard.”

Eddie tightens his grip around you, flipping you on your back. He presses your hips into the mattress, the tangled-up sheets surrounding your head as you look at the two men staring down at you. Their next meal.

Eddie’s quick to strip you of all your clothes and his own. When the realization hits that you are completely bare in front of both men, you start to grow a bit self-conscious. You raise your arms up to grab at your boobs, but Eddie is quick to swat them away.

“Don’t be nervous around us, princess. You’re fuckin’ perfect,” his voice drips with lust. The amount of times you got off on Eddie’s words alone should be studied. Gareth settles beside you, stroking himself as Eddie’s hands trace your legs and thighs. He settles on his knees, parting your knees. “Isn’t she perfect, Gareth?”

Gareth hums, “Fuckin’ flawless, Eddie.”

Your focus tapers in on Eddie’s fingers, dragging towards your wet slit. He still has his rings on, the silver catching the dim overhead light. You groan when his touch graces your silky center, his fingers gathering your slick. When his pointer and middle digits sink into your cunt, your hips raise off the bed.

Your head lulls to the side, your eyes feasting on Gareth’s length right near your head. He’s looking down at Eddie working magic on your core, pumping his cock with his large hands.

You did not realize how attractive you found Gareth until he was this close to you, naked and fiending for you.

When his eyes snap over to yours, he looks pleased.

“You just can’t keep your eyes off my cock, huh, honey?” His voice brings Eddie’s eyes to the state of your gaze. He pumps his fingers into you faster, latching his lips around your swollen bud. That brings your attention back to his head between your thighs.

“Oh my god, Eddie,” You moan, your hand reaching up to grab at his long curls. He shakes his head, his tongue running between your pussy lips like a madman. Eddie always had you cumming on his tongue, and this moment would be no exception. Your core tightens as you feel that familiar build-up in the pit of your stomach.

You cannot look away at his nose and how it probes the top of your pussy as he drags his mouth up and down your slit. When his lips envelop your clit, it’s game over. He scissors his fingers in you as you tumble over the edge.

“Yes, fuck, yes baby,” You cry, your other hand mindlessly gripping onto the closest thing. It was Gareth’s thigh. You dig your nails into the flesh as you grind your cunt on Eddie’s mouth.

Your mind is blank as Eddie lifts himself up, his mouth glossy with saliva and your spend. Your hand is still locked on Gareth’s leg, observing how Eddie slots himself between your lower half. Eddie’s cock is standing at full attention as he pumps himself with his wet fingers. You smile at Gareth, completely drunk off of the climax Eddie just gave you.

“Two orgasms, sweetheart. You think you can handle any more?” Eddie questions, pushing his cock between your folds. You are so sensitive, you are unsure if you can handle it, but your lips deceive you.

“Yes, please,” You say to Eddie, eyes still glued to Gareth.

Gareth decides it’s time to adjust his position, sliding off the edge of the bed and leaning over it to put all his focus on you. He glances up at Eddie, almost to ask permission for something. Eddie just nods, like they spoke telepathically.

Gareth’s hand comes up to your cheek, tenderly dragging down your cheekbone.

“You’re so polite, honey,” He murmurs, his eyes sparkling down at you, “I can’t wait to watch Eddie ruin you with his dick.”

Eddie tilts his shaft down, pushing his cock inside you. You breathe out, trying to take him without clenching immediately. But your reflexes squeeze him so much that he matches your action, gritting his teeth and letting out a sigh.

“Relax, baby. You’re squeezing the fuck outta me,” Eddie groans, taking his time fully sheathing himself inside you. Your senses are in overdrive as you watch Gareth’s mouth slightly open, his fingers touching your lips softly. He’s teasing you, you can tell by how his demeanor has shifted from the way he’s been talking to you.

“Her pussy is probably tight because it hasn’t had a good fuckin’ since you left, Eds. Give her a break,” Gareth dotes, his thumb dropping to your chin. Your breathing hitches when Eddie widens your legs more and snaps back into you. “That right, sweet cheeks?”

Eddie chuckles darkly as you whine when his pace picks up, not waiting for you to adjust to him again. “My girl doesn’t need a break. She just wants to soak my cock, don’t cha, princess?”

You just nod, the air your lungs completely pushed out of your body the moment Eddie lifts your hips up with his sticky hands. The new position hits you perfectly, his cock driving into you at a speed it’s never been at before.

Gareth’s hand drags down to your throat, wrapping around it slightly in a teasing squeeze. He is gauging Eddie’s reactions and that one seems to rub him the wrong way.

“Watch it, Emerson,” he warns, tightening his hands on your hips, “Play with her titties. She likes that.”

Gareth’s hand leaves your neck. You silently curse Eddie’s guidance, wanting nothing more but for him to choke you while Eddie spearheads into you. But the moment his palm reaches your tit, you whine at the contact.

“She does like that, doesn’t she?” Gareth lilts, his fingers going to pinch at your perked nipples. You wiggle in Eddie’s grip, trying to get away from the overstimulation both boys are bringing you. Eddie grabs the back of your thighs, hinging your legs, and drives his cock into your pussy while compressing you into the bed. Even Gareth gasps at the aggression, loving the way you cry out for Eddie.

In an act of pure insanity, Gareth leans down, capturing your nipple in his mouth. Eddie’s reaction brings a sound out of your throat that you have never heard before. His hand practically manhandles Gareth’s curls, trying to pry him away from your chest. It’s met with resistance for a moment before Gareth’s swollen lips pop off your nipple.

You are not sure how the action does it, but you are seizing around Eddie’s cock. No names come out of your mouth, you are unsure which one to scream anyway. You just chant, “Oh god, oh god”, over and over again.

The constriction on Eddie’s cock pushes him over the edge. He releases Gareth, practically tossing him aside as he locks his hands on your waist to fuck his seed into you. Even with your bones feeling like jello, you sit up on your elbows to get an up-close view of Eddie’s furrowed brows and distorted expression.

You grab onto the nape of his neck, the sweat pooling at the base of his curls. You pull him into a passionate kiss, your tongue exploring the inside of his mouth. He tastes like your essence and the whiskey he had been sipping on earlier.

You pull away, nails raking down his neck and chest. You tilt your nose up, getting ready to probe him with a mind-numbing question.

“Now why did you do that to Gareth, baby? You told him that I liked when someone plays with my titties.”

Eddie’s jaw drops before a small smile creeps across his lips. You shoot Gareth a look, his face completely dazed by what just happened.

Eddie’s breath fans your face before drawing back a bit. His cock slowly drags out of your leaking core as he stands up before you. “I told him to play, not suck.”

You tick your tongue, shaking your head at his response. “No making up random rules in the middle of sex, baby.”

Eddie looks smug as he grabs Gareth up from his spot. The odd intimacy of him touching Gareth’s hips as he positions him in front of you is very hot to you. Eddie stands a bit taller than Gareth, so when he leans down to whisper in his ear, you cannot help the way your stomach flutters.

“Fine. Gare, just do what the girl tells you. But,” Eddie’s hands leave his waist, nudging him a bit closer to your knees, “If you cum in her, I will rip your dick off your body. Understand?”

After he says it, he slaps Gareth’s ass before giving you the cheesiest smile ever. His body sinks into the bed next to you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. When he presses a kiss into your shoulder blade, you finally roll your eyes.

“You heard his terms,” You give a pointed look at Gareth as he slowly drags his pointer finger across your knee, “Do you understand?”

“Crystal clear, honey.” He quips, shooting you a smug smile. “Do you mind if I take you from the back? Or are there stipulations with that?”

You shake your head, pushing up on your ass, flipping over eagerly. Eddie watches you with curiosity, completely taken by the fact that you are this excited to get fucked by his friend.

Gareth’s hands lock on your hips, dragging you to the edge of the bed. He pumps his dick, watching your pulsating pussy dripping with a mixture of Eddie’s cum and your own. He smiles sickly, dragging the tip of his dick through your messy folds.

“Tell me you want it.” Gareth rasps, tilting his head a bit to meet your gaze.

You giggle, not taking him too seriously. “I want it.”

He shakes his head, glancing over at Eddie. He is propped up, his completely nude body looking like a graffitied sculpture from the Louvre or something. Eddie looks between you two, tilting on his side so he can watch you get your fix from Gareth.

“Is she always such a tease, Eddie?” Gareth inquires, his gaze snapping back to the view of you ass up for him.

Eddie snickers, “Gotta put her in her place, Emerson.”

You angle your head to face Eddie head-on, completely baffled by his response. Gareth’s titillating motions around your pussy are already putting you on edge, and now Eddie is only encouraging him to taunt you even further.

“I’ll leave that to you. I’ll just fuck her like the slut she is.”

He snaps into you in one fluid motion, his cock curving inside you in a way that Eddie’s dick does not. You do not expect him to shift so quickly inside you, so you let out a shift yelp. His words still ring in your ear as you hear both of them laugh at your reaction. You press downwards, pushing your ass up further, laying the side of your face into the sheets.

You decide it is better to give it back to him. While he drives into you, you speak up.

“Yes, Gareth, treat me like the dirty little slut I am. Fuck me like you fuck those groupies.”

“Yeah?” He pistons his hips faster. The way his hands fit on your waist is so different than how Eddie’s settle. His hands are rougher and his fingers are not as long. Must be the callouses built up from all the drumming he does. You feel his naked chest make contact with your back. His voice comes out as a whisper, “I fuck all those girls wrapped up. I get you raw. Fuckin’ slut.”

The idea you had earlier about how that girl resembled yourself springs into your brain.

“You like fucking girls who look like me, Gare? Hm?”

Gareth’s thrust slowed for a moment, shocked that you would say such a thing. You were right, but how were you so observant?

“Fuck, you gettin’ off on my little crush on you? You think it’s cute?”

You hum your response, hands gripping the sheets as he rams into you even harder now. You were surely getting off on more than that.

Eddie knew Gareth had a crush on you. He knew that he was fucking whatever girl had your hair or your eyes. Hearing Gareth confess such a thing as he’s balls deep in you sends red flags flying in his mind. He knew he could not stop this right now, loving the way you looked all blissed out on his friend’s dick anyway. But this would not be happening again.

Eddie's hands roam all over your skin as his bandmate fucks you, massaging your back. His fingers meander over to your lower back before his hand is groping your ass cheek. His body moves away from your constricted view. He takes your other ass cheek in his hand, spreading them for his and Gareth’s viewing pleasure.

“How does she feel, Gare? Everything you dreamed about?” Eddie quizzes as he swats your ass a couple of times, trying to rid his mind of the racing thoughts.

Gareth audibly moans, “So fuckin’ tight, dude.”

Gareth’s thrusts only get more sloppy as Eddie plays with your ass. When his middle finger slips down your ass crack, feeling out for your asshole, you put your face in the blankets and screech. Your throat is becoming hoarse at all the strangled moans you have let out in the last hour. Over the wet slapping due to Gareth fucking you so good, you hear the squelching of Eddie pooling a drop of spit between your cheeks.

“She will be gushing on you in no time if you just,” Eddie sinks his finger into your other hole, the excessive stimulation maddening. “Add a finger.”

This is why you are madly in love with the man. He knows you better than anyone.

Because he’s right. As soon as he presses his index finger into your asshole, your hips jut forward. Instead of retreating, Eddie and Gareth both clutch onto your waist and fuck you through the white-hot rapture ripping through your body. Your cunt is gushing around Gareth’s cock, the sounds absolutely obscene.

“Oh fuck, Gareth, oh my god yes! Cum, please cum.”

The way your pussy clamps down on Gareth causes him to hit that same wall, too. After one particularly sharp thrust, he is fumbling out of you, jerking his dick off right near Eddie’s intrusive fingers.

His cum spurts out all over your ass crack and Eddie’s hand. Instead of straying away from it, Eddie chuckles at Gareth’s spend coating everything in sight.

You have never felt so drained in your life the moment the orgasm dampens. Eddie and Gareth share snickers when your body essentially drops down onto the bed.

For you, the interaction is done. But Gareth has something devious planned. He exhales, tilting over and dragging his tongue across your cum-covered ass and back. The warmth of his mouth sends goosebumps rising all along your skin. Eddie gawks at his exploit, his eyes dropping to his cum covered hand. He glances over at Gareth who is so focused on cleaning his remnants on you that he’s not focused on what Eddie is about to do.

With his clean hand, Eddie grips your hair and yanks you up by your scalp. You are whiplashed when he places his coated hand in front of your face.

“A gift from Gareth,” He displays, his smile a bit unhinged. You ogle him before accepting his offer, extending your own tongue and dragging it all around his knuckles and fingers. He shakes his head, at your vulgar conduct. “That’s my girl. Always so compliant.”

By the time you are getting the last bit off Eddie’s hand, Gareth is done cleaning you up. He sees what Eddie is making you do and he cannot help the quiver that escapes him.

When your mouth is laced with your own spit and Gareth’s cum, Eddie drops your head delicately. You roll onto your side, your upper body half in Eddie’s lap, half on the bed.

“I need a shower,” You gripe, trying to regain full feeling in your body. You feel a head high, almost as if you just smoked a full joint by yourself or something.

Eddie assists you in getting up, wrapping you in a sheet, “Let’s get you a shower then, baby.”

Gareth watches him help you as he gathers up his clothing off the floor. The room is so small and the bathroom is right outside the sliding door, so you did not have long to walk. Still, your legs felt like they may give out at any time, so Eddie’s trained hands on you were very helpful.

Eddie helps you into the shower, unraveling you from the blanket and holding your hand as you step into the stand-up surround. You give him a gentle smile, nodding that you would be okay with the rest of the chore.

Eddie uses the blanket for himself, wrapping up just in case one of the other guys sees him in the narrow hallway. As he walks out, Gareth is leaving his room, a snicker leaving his lips.

Eddie raises his fist, gesturing that a bump was required.

Gareth returns the bump, “Thanks for letting me join, dude.”

Eddie shakes his head, a half smile ticking upward, “No problem… It’s never happening again.”

“What if she-”

“Never. Happening. Again,” Eddie states firmly, still grinning, “Enjoy your bunk, Emerson.”

np tags (just some folks that supported my last eddie fics or asked to be tagged, tehe): @hockeyhughes @wdsara48 @emxxblog @cxrsed-angel @canyonmooncreations @mediocredreams

#a threesome? what?#happy valentines day #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson x gareth emerson #gareth emerson #gareth stranger things #rockstar eddie munson #gareth x reader #rockstar au #eddie munson x reader x gareth #gracieheartspedro

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marril96 · 1 month ago

Text

Just In Time

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: Following a trip, Agatha gets sick. It's up to you to look after her.

Editor: @fruityhahn

The weather was miserable, and so were you.

When the forecast had announced a snowstorm would hit your area the day after, you'd hurried to go on a supply run. Just in case the storm happened to overstay its welcome. If your centuries on this Earth had taught you anything, it was that it was good to be prepared.

Wind had started picking up not long after noon. By the time you'd arrived home, it was snowing like it hadn't been in years. The ride which usually took around twenty minutes had taken over an hour; you could barely see the road ahead.

Living in the middle of nowhere usually had its perks, the most important ones being privacy and freedom from nosy neighbors, but it sucked ass during times like this.

Especially when you were alone.

A couple days back, Agatha had gone on another one of her con jobs. She'd found a coven of witches she'd claimed were powerful and wanted to stock up for a rainy day — or a snowy day, as she'd said. Awfully fitting.

Usually, you'd accompanied her, more for your peace of mind than hers, but this time you weren't in the mood for travel. It was cold outside. The place she'd tracked that coven to was amidst the largest snowstorm in the country. You couldn't bring yourself to leave the warmth of your house to do a con job that would be over in half an hour, once the witches' trust was earned.

Agatha had assured you that she could handle it. She had, after all, been doing this for centuries, long before she'd ever met you. She would be okay. She'd travel to that shithole town, and she would be on the first flight or bus or train back, whichever was available, as soon as the storm had passed.

And here you were now, alone in an empty house, soon to be trapped inside for the unforeseeable future.

As you were grabbing all the bags, hoping against hope they wouldn't rip and spill your stuff all over the windy yard, you made a mental note to call Agatha and let her know that you were okay.

She had done the same after she'd landed at her destination and started working on the witches. This morning she'd sent a quick text to tell you the job was done, and she was taking the first means of transport that was available home.

You hoped coming home to a full fridge and a stocked up potions ingredients cupboard would cheer her up after a long day of travel — from one snowstorm to another.

As you were about to stick the key into the lock, you noticed the door was a jar. Your heckles rose like a porcupine's quills, prickling at the back of your neck. You were sure you'd closed the door on your way out. You were sure you'd locked it.

Tentatively, slowly, you walked inside. Lowering the bags to the floor (and making sure to make as little noise as possible), you summoned your magic. Sparks as bright as daylight engulfed the tips of your fingers. Whoever the mystery intruder was, they were messing with the wrong witch.

The house was dark and cold, exactly as you'd left it this morning. There was no point in lighting the fire when you would be out for almost half a day; you knew that, by the time you'd gone through all the grocery stores, as well as the couple witch shops just out of town, it would be dark out. The fire would have been long dead.

"Hello?" you called out cautiously, wiggling your fingers, the magic coiling between them crackling like freshly lit fire.

A small, weak noise sounded in response, strangely alike to a moan.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, but you didn't let your guard down. Whoever or whatever was in your house could still pose a threat to your life. A wild animal was no less dangerous than a human — or an unfriendly witch.

As you lingered by the entrance to the living room, your power lighting up the dark space, your eyes fell upon a form spread across the floor.

"Hello?" you repeated, instinctively stiffening and clenching both fists.

Why would someone break into a house, only to fall asleep on the floor? How were they able to step inside in the first place? You and Agatha had made sure to put up protective runes. Nobody, human or witch or anything else resembling a person, should have been able to get in.

Nobody except…

You stepped closer to get a better look at the fallen person. Their jacket was purple, a rich, dark shade that you would recognize anywhere. They wore jeans, and on their feet was a pair of black boots. A halo of thick, dark brown curls spilled around their head.

Blood ran cold in your veins as the realization sat in.

"Agatha!" Dissolving your summoned magic, you instantly ran over to her and kneeled by her side. "Sweetheart?"

She responded with a moan, as small and fragile as the first one. "Y-Y/N…"

Your heart raced, concern spilling over you like a bucket of cold water. "What happened?"

"I-I'm not… feeling well…"

That much you could tell. "Did someone hurt you?"

"No."

You pressed your palm to her forehead, and almost pulled your hand back as if stung. "You're burning up."

You couldn't help releasing a relieved sigh. A fever, you could deal with. Whatever illness she'd picked up, be it the flu or COVID or any other respiratory ailment, would be a walk in the park in comparison to a hex.

"I'm sick," Agatha said, weak, drained.

"I can see that," you replied softly. "Why didn't you call me?"

She took in a breath, two, three. "I did. You didn't pick up."

"What?" You instinctively reached for your pocket, only to find it empty. Fuck. You were in a rush this morning, eager to head out as soon as possible, hoping against hope the storm wouldn't hit early. Shit. "I left my phone at home. I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

"You should be," Agatha said halfheartedly, just to be snarky. Just to show that she was still herself, despite the predicament she was in.

You rolled your eyes, but decided to give her a pass. Bitchiness was one of the things you loved about her. As annoying as you found it from time to time, it was part of what made her her. You wouldn't change it for the world.

"I had to take a cab," she whined. "The bastard robbed me blind."

"Why didn't you mind control him?"

"Think I didn't try? My purple is… malfunctioning."

Because she was sick.

It was a miracle she'd managed to drag herself inside the house before collapsing.

Your heart swelled with sympathy, with compassion for the woman you loved. It had been ages since you'd last seen her so much as cough. Whatever she'd caught had to be nasty; there were few things that managed to bring down the powerful Agatha Harkness, and a feeble illness wasn't one of them.

It shouldn't have been, at least.

"Can you walk?" you asked, gently hoisting her up to her feet.

Her legs instantly gave way, answering your question; you wrapped your arms around her, holding her against you, hoping against hope that your body could handle the weight of hers pressing against it.

"I got you. It's okay. I got you, sweetie."

It broke your heart to see her so weak, so fragile. As if one wrong look could break her.

As if she was already breaking, one little piece at a time.

It felt like a dream, a nightmare you couldn't wake up from.

Your Agatha was strong. Powerful. She did what she wanted and demolished everyone and everything that stood in her way.

This pitiful creature wasn't her.

It couldn't be her.

"I'm tired," Agatha murmured.

"I know you are," you said, caressing her hair. Her head lowered to your shoulder, and she relaxed, breathing softly. Safe and secure in your arms. Cozy as a baby bird, even in this awkward position. "Can you try to take a few steps to help me out here?"

"Do I have to?"

God, she was such a brat.

A part of you found it endearing.

"You'll be more comfortable on the couch than on the floor."

She couldn't argue with that. "Mmm."

Her left foot pushed itself forward. Then the right one. You guided her, slow and careful; the last thing you wanted was to cause her more pain than she was already in.

You could tell it took a lot out of her, but she forced her legs to move along with you, to follow your lead.

As soon as you reached the couch, Agatha, with a large, tired sigh, slumped forwards. You removed her jacket and shoes, then helped her lie down

"This is undignifying," she whined.

A small smile bloomed on your mouth. "It's fine. You're sick."

"I'm pathetic."

If there was anyone who was allowed to see her in that condition, it was you. "I won't tell anyone if you don't."

You made a quick run upstairs to grab the pillow and blanket off your bed, and then wrapped her up nice and tight. Swaddled her like a baby in need of utmost care.

Not that she was far from that description.

As you were adjusting the pillow under her head, your eyes fell upon a phone on the coffee table — your phone, the one you'd discarded this morning in your rush to outrun the incoming storm. A light was blinking at the top, alerting you of missed calls. Countless, you assumed. Agatha would not have given up after a couple.

A pang of regret pierced your heart. You should have been there. You should have driven her home and tucked her into bed afterwards. She shouldn't have spent hours on a cold, hard floor.

"Don't leave me," Agatha suddenly said, shaking you from your thoughts. Her lip trembled, eyes filled with tears she was trying her hardest to hold back. "Please."

There it was again, that insecurity of hers. That fear that she would be betrayed, abandoned for that was all she'd ever known. People — witches — in her life tended to turn their backs on her when she needed them the most. The coven she'd been born into, her mother, hell, even her ex, from the stories she'd told you. Nobody cared enough to stay. Nobody cared enough to put her first.

You did.

Nothing she could ever say or do would make you leave her behind.

"I won't," you assured her, grabbing her hand. Her fingers weakly wrapped around yours. "I'll be right here."

You pressed a kiss to her burning forehead, sealing the promise. You would stay with her. You would look after her. You would make sure she got better.

Agatha muttered something you couldn't exactly make out, that sounded almost like, "Thank you," and then she said in her tiniest voice, "I'm cold."

"Let me get you something for your fever, and then I'll light the fire, okay?"

As soon as she gave a nod, you rushed to the medicine cabinet upstairs, grabbed what you needed, then ran back down to the kitchen. The medication dissolved in water in seconds; you stirred it with a spoon to speed it up, cursing yourself for still, centuries into your life on this Earth, not having gotten a hang of potions.

Magic would speed up Agatha's recovery significantly. Magic that you weren't capable of.

You hated yourself for it. Hated that you couldn't help the woman you loved. Hated that the simplest of magic was out of your grasp. Hated that you could kill a person with ease, but when it came to healing you were useless.

Agatha readily drank the medicine. Without uttering a word, she let you hold the plastic cup to her mouth, too weak to attempt it herself, and drained it in two big gulps.

"This is horrible," she complained, face scrunching in disgust.

The sheer cuteness of her reaction forced your mouth to curl into a smile. "It will help."

"It better."

A part of you wanted to tease her with, "Or what?" but you decided against it. She needed to conserve her strength. There would be time for playful banter later, once her fever was down and she could make more than two steps without falling on her face.

You laid a kiss to her knuckles, adjusting the blanket, making sure that she was covered from head to toe.

As Agatha's eyes fell closed and she burrowed her face under the blanket, you set to lighting the fire. The fireplace was big, fancy in comparison to the rest of the house. It reminded you of the olden days, of mansions and villas you and Agatha would scam your way into to take advantage of the hosts. Sometimes it would be for money, other times for magic; rich witches were no less gullible than poor ones — in fact, some were even more so, their greed for the imaginary Road the perfect fodder for Agatha's cannon.

Not much had changed in that regard. Witches were just as greedy, just as gluttonous as they were back then.

People would always be people. Nature had made it so.

The first crackle of fire elicited a satisfied "Mmm" from Agatha from under the covers.

You had to smile, even though she couldn't see you.

She was going to be okay.

A seasonal respiratory illness couldn't bring down the great and powerful Agatha Harkness.

Not for long.

***

It was almost dinnertime by the time Agatha stirred awake. A groan you knew by heart prompted you to rush to her side, to ensure that you would be the first thing her eyes fell upon after blinking open.

You needed her to know that you'd made good on your promise.

You'd stayed.

You were here.

You didn't abandon her.

"Y/N?" Agatha said, rubbing her tired eyes.

"It's me," you said with a grin. "Hi."

She rolled her eyes, not in the mood for your shenanigans — not yet, anyway.

You blew her a raspberry in response, which, in turn, elicited a frustrated groan from her.

Your girl was back.

"How are you feeling?" you asked.

"Like I just woke up from hibernation."

She looked it, too. Some color had returned to her cheeks, but she was still pale as a ghost.

You laid a hand over her forehead. Her skin was its regular warmth, pleasant instead of scorching. "No fever. That's a good sign."

You'd made sure to check on her while she was asleep, palming her head every half an hour or so, just to be safe.

She'd taken well to the medicine.

"Are you sure?" she asked, for no reason other than to be a brat. Her usual tactic, used just to rile you up, to annoy you for Agatha Harkness was nothing if not a troll.

Fine. If that was how she wanted to play it. "I could always stick a thermometer up your ass to double check."

Two could play this game.

Agatha made a sour face.

"Thought so," you said with a shrug.

She responded with a pout, one of her most lethal weapons. You melted like ice greeting the sun, unable to put up a fight, to resist her blatant manipulation.

This woman had an insane amount of power over you, and the worst part of it was that you let her have it. You didn't mind it.

You gave it to her. Willingly so.

If given a choice, you would do it again in a heartbeat.

As carefully as if any sudden movement would set her ablaze, Agatha propped herself up into a sitting position. One of her hands shot out in your direction, reaching for you, beckoning for you to come to her.

You instantly obliged, moving to sit beside her. As gently as you could, you cupped her cheeks, soft and warm, flushing with more and more color with each passing minute. She leaned into your touch, into you, comfortable, trusting. She knew you would never hurt her. That you would make all the bad go away to the best of your ability. That you would love her and cherish her and protect her when she wasn't able to do it on her own.

She trusted you with herself at her most vulnerable.

You swore on your life to never do anything to make her regret it.

You pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, and then pecked her on the lips. "How'd it go with the witches?"

Agatha grunted, displeased. "They're the ones who got me sick."

"They hex you?"

She made a disgusted face. "Worse. They sneezed and coughed in my face. The entire damn coven was one step removed from meeting my ex."

"You really stepped in it, huh?" Understatement of the century.

Agatha scoffed. "Two of them couldn't even blast me. I had to kill them the old fashioned way." She shook her head in disappointment. "Waste of good magic."

"At least you drained the rest," you said in an attempt to make her feel better.

It didn't work.

"Yeah, but at what cost?"

"Hey, hey." You tilted her head to get her eyes to meet yours, your thumbs rubbing tender circles across her cheeks. "This is just a bug. You'll be fine. You're already doing much better."

Compared to how you'd found her mere hours ago, weak and barely conscious on the floor, unable to walk even with assistance, this was a major improvement.

"Well, I am exceptional," she said with exaggerated arrogance, a smirk coating her puckered mouth.

"Yes, you are."

Agatha preened at the praise like a peacock, eyelashes batting, lips puckering into that adorable pout that always made you melt. Unable to resist, you laid a quick kiss to them, then pecked the tip of her nose.

Witches with body counts that would make the most notorious serial killers blush had no right to be that cute.

"What was that potion you gave me?" she inquired.

"Two water-soluble Tylenol." You gave a chuckle. "Extra strength."

"Of course."

"Hey, it worked."

It was a well known fact that you and potions got along like water and oil. Agatha had tried to teach you some, many times, each having resulted in a disaster, until she'd finally given up and took on the task of preparing them herself.

As the saying went, if you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself.

She knew better than to entrust that particular task to you.

That didn't make teasing you any less fun.

"If you want a potion, make it yourself," you said. "Until then, you're stuck with Tylenol."

"Whatever would you do without me?" Agatha quipped with a sigh.

"Not get sick, for one," you pointed out.

She responded with a new pout, this one hurt, sad to the core.

As tempting as it was, you didn't fall for it. "Cuteness doesn't give you the right to be a bitch to the person taking care of you."

"Doesn't it?"

"Nope."

She shrugged. "It was worth a try." Then, face turning serious, she said, "Thank you for staying."

You had, after all, promised that you would.

As mean as she could be, you knew Agatha appreciated everything you did for her. She showed it with every kiss, every cuddle, every little caress and pat. Every look in her eyes. Every breakfast she brought you to bed and coffee she made alongside it. Every new spell she boasted about learning, eager to teach you its ways.

She wasn't perfect, far from it, but you knew she loved you. Her actions spoke louder than words.

You smiled. "Always, sweetheart. You're kinda stuck with me."

Agatha retorted with a kiss, long and hungry. Yet another wordless declaration of love, louder and prouder than any yell.

The growl in her stomach prompted you to pull away. "You should get something to eat."

She contemplated it for a moment, then, knowing resistance was futile, conceded, "I could use a corn dog or something."

Or something, it was. "How does canned soup sound?"

"Like I don't have much of a choice."

"You have plenty of choices."

You'd made sure to stock up on pretty much everything. It had taken you hours; shelves at every store were almost bare, raided by people eager to prepare for the storm.

A few fights had broken out, each over random shit that, honestly, wasn't even worth fighting for. Desperation bred tension, you supposed. And tension bred conflict.

Not my circus, not my monkeys, you'd told yourself, carefully avoiding each and every brawl. You watched from a safe distance, reminded of Black Friday fight compilations Agatha liked to watch. It was bizarre to see it happen in front of your very eyes. A perfect reminder that humans, after all, really were animals.

"If you're feeling up to cooking," you added.

Agatha wasn't just the potion maker in your relationship — she was also the chef. With damn good reason.

Forcing her mouth into a tight smile, she said, "Canned soup sounds fantastic."

You thought so.

"It'll be good for you," you said. "Soup helps with the flu."

Agatha narrowed her eyes, skeptical. "I'm pretty sure that's an old wives tale."

It might have been. Not that you cared. "It's a fluid. You need fluids."

"Fine," she relented. "You win."

Her tone made it clear that she was far from happy about it.

Tough luck.

You gifted her another kiss, a little peace offering. Agatha happily accepted, melting into you, devouring the small token of affection. Begging for more, more, more like the greedy little fiend that she was.

You happily indulged her. After all, it took one to know one.

"Is your purple still malfunctioning?" you asked in-between the shower of kisses.

Agatha raised a hand up to your face. The tip of her forefinger, adorned with a long, perfectly manicured nail, lit up in rich violet. She laid it against your nose in a gentle tap. The sparks of magic cracked against your skin, tickling you, teasing you.

A grin broke out across your face. "I'm gonna take that as a no."

"When has anything held me down for long?"

"Right, you're exceptional," you echoed her words back to her, eliciting a wide smile.

"Exactly."

Leaning forwards, you rubbed your nose against hers. Agatha scrunched her face adorably.

"Stop that," she said half-heartedly, cheeks flushing with more color.

"Or what?" you challenged.

"I'll drain you."

A hearty laugh erupted from your mouth.

She pouted, feigning offense. "I mean it. There's a reason they call me witch killer."

Indeed, there was. She — happily, gleefully — killed witches.

Other witches.

Witches that weren't you.

There had been a few close calls in the past, of you being careless and almost blasting her. She'd broken into tears each time and had lectured you about safety and precaution until her throat was raw and it hurt to talk, and you'd had to wrap your arms around her and promise it wouldn't happen again.

She didn't want to hurt you.

She didn't want to take your life.

"Somehow I doubt it," you said.

Agatha shrugged. "It's your funeral. I'm formidable."

"Yes, you are." Briefly kissing the tip of her nose, which prompted another impossibly cute face scrunch, you leaned your forehead against hers. "I love you so much."

"Right back at you, honey," she said. "Thank you for being here."

"I wish I'd come home sooner."

She shook her head. "You were just in time."

You supposed you were.

It was worth it.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @miss-moon-guardian @hermslore @uniquelesbianidiot @natashamaximoff1 @alsoknownasmel @swan-queen-is-magic @tardisesandtitans @ahintofchaos @fruityhahn @midnight-lestrange @lift-heavy-be-gay @katieswain123 @riovidalharkness

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha harkness #marvel #mcu #fanfic #fanfiction #my fics #edit

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tmwcs · 7 months ago

Text

Little Red Riding Hood - Part One

Pairings: Jake X fem!y/n

Warnings: Werewolf Jake, there will be smut in his werewolf form, knotting, CNC smut, non/dub-con, kidnapping, Jake is Yandere in this one. Based off the fairytale. This is part one.

Authors note: Hello my lovely readers! Finally had some time to post part one, will be posting part two tonight. Please note that I have not had any time to go over and fix the structure or grammar, I wanted to but that would have furthered delayed in posting the parts and I just didn’t know when I’d get the time to do that. So please ignore any mistakes as this is not at all proofread. But I’m excited to write for you guys again! Enjoy! ♥️

“Y/n! Don’t forget the basket of fruit.”

Your mother trails behind, hand delivering the goods as you enter the uber. “Oh! Thanks mom. I’ll be back later.”

She nods. “Okay, have fun with granny!” waving goodbye, she sees you off as your driver pulls out of the driveway. The ride was silent, at least up until he entered the back road. “Visiting grandma’s house, huh?” he presents, attempting to make conversation. You nod. “Mmhmm.”

You take a moment to respond to unanswered texts, losing track of the value of time as the driver takes a backroad. It went unnoticed until you looked up the window and failed to recognize the scenery. “Um…sir? Which road is this?”

“Oh, just a shortcut. It will cut our trip in half this way.” Your brows frowned. Your grandma wasn’t far at all, only five miles down from the main road. The robust driver continued to travel along the long windy path, which ultimately surpassed the length of time it would normally take to reach your grandmother’s home. “Sir, please drop me off here.” You spoke sternly as you felt uneasy by the driver's response. His caucasian features presented a stoic countenance as he kept flashing a perverse gaze through the rearview mirror, making eye contact.

“Sir, I said drop me off here!” you demanded, yet all it did was make him chuckle laconically. “And leave a pretty girl like you stranded?”

You hissed. “I’m calling the police. Either you drop me off here, or I’m giving them your information.” A sudden turn of the vehicle gives you some relief, until he spoke out. “Fine, I'll drop you off.”

You quickly exit the vehicle. He berated and demanded extra payment for the inconvenience of the trip, in which you scolded him. “You have got to be kidding me! You’re the one who took me out here! I am nowhere near my destination, just what were your intentions? You sicko!”

After a spat that continued to go back and forth, you figured that this pathetic man was only trying to buy time and continue to view you from his mirror. It was the only sensible explanation, seeing as how he didn’t pose a greater threat other than lashing cursings and insults. Finally, with you dialing the number to the police yet again, the driver darts off, seeing that you weren’t bluffing. “Idiot.” you hissed as you watched the car disappear in the distance.

You attempted to make a phone call to your mother, but the call never went through. Figures. Being out here in the country, it seemed that the entire region was undeveloped. Your best chance was to walk on foot and knock at the first house you see. Carrying the basket, you start your journey and head in the direction of where you last saw the vehicle.

The windy breeze began picking up, fluttering the hem of your short sundress. An idea pops in your head and you remove the protective cover of the basket–a long red sash. Wrapping it around your body, it was wide enough to cloak your bodice and mid thigh. The length provided enough material for you to tie loosely around your waist as it draped over your hair, just as if it were really a cloak. “Perfect!” you whisper.

About a quarter of a mile out, and still there was no sign of any inhabitants. You can’t wait to get back home and report that driver to the head of the company. “He should be fired.” you huffed as you continued to walk. The sun started to set, which escalated your fear of not being able to make it back in time before nightfall. The massive forestry arching the road didn't make it easier. You looked back repeatedly to see if a car would come by. You’re not one to hitchhike, but there’s a first time for everything, you guess.

Your low heeled shoes started to feel uncomfortable as you reached a full mile. You wondered if turning back and heading in the opposite direction was a better option at this point. Just as you were reconsidering your approach, a lone vehicle pulls up from behind. It was black, and a luxury brand. Counting your lucky stars, you instantly greet the driver as the window pulls down.

“Hello, are you lost?”

From the angle you stood, you could only view the man’s lips and his seated position. He was finely dressed, and had on an intricate designed leather glove that partially decorated his left hand. “Yes! Could you please give me a lift to the next town?”

You watch as his lips give off a half smile, and the clicking of the locking feature puts you at ease when he reaches over the center console and opens the door for you. “Hop in.”

You settle yourself in the fine leather seating and then it hits you internally.

‘Whoa…’

The man presents a hand initiating the formal manners of introduction as he bids you to shake his. “I’m Jake.”

You gently take his hand with your fingertips and give a subtle shake. “I’m y/n.” The man was too handsome. His wide glasses gave him a classic appeal, while his lengthy hair enhanced it all as it swooped over the side. He looked as smooth as aged liquor, and as fine as fresh silk. Given the luxury of his attire and car, you figured he either came from a wealthy family or made his own fortune, which proposed the bigger question in what he was doing driving on this lonesome road. There was absolutely nothing industrious about this entire place, what could a fashionable man possibly be doing here?

You figured it would be too rude to inquire, so you merely relaxed and made conversation instead. “Thank you for giving me a ride. My uber driver had left me stranded and i am unfamiliar with this part of town.”

He kept his eyes on the road, relaxed in his seat as he steered the vehicle with one hand. His suit outlined his lean muscle and broad chest. You’ve never seen such an incredible looking man before. “Left you stranded, huh? That wasn’t nice of him.”

His voice was deep and equally as smooth as his looks. “Where was he taking you?” he inquires softly. You answer, which propelled him to continue on. “Your grandmother’s house is this far out?”

“No.” you respond. “He took this route while I was on my phone and I’m not sure why. I started to feel uneasy so I told him to drop me off here. I figured it was better to take chances on foot than it was to stay inside the car with him.”

“And what was he driving?”

You were somewhat confused at his inquiry of the driver's vehicle, yet it somehow made you flattered that the man appeared to indicate that he was going to take action against the rude driver. “It was a white car, I can't remember the make or model but its on my uber app.”

He nods. “I see. I suppose you want me to take you to the police station?”

You shook your head and asked if he wouldn’t mind bringing you to your grandmother’s home, to which he agreed. He gently taps on the wide screen on the dashboard. “You can put in the address.”

Once the gps feature was set, you frowned and internally cursed the uber driver in seeing that you were thirty minutes out from where your grandmother’s house was located. Feeling terrible that man, Jake, had to go out of his way to bring you there, you offered to pay him gas money, to which he declined. “Its alright. No need.”

As much as you hated the fact that you were so far out, you found yourself grateful at the fact that you had so much time to spend talking with Jake. His voice was so light and airy, yet deep with a lustful bravado. His features were perfect, and you had to keep reminding yourself to avoid staring.

Finally, you reach your destination as he pulls up to your grandmother’s mailbox. “We’re here.” A man of few words, yet somehow that just made him more attractive. You thanked him as you unbuckle your seatbelt. “One moment.” You halt your movements at the sound of his voice, and watch as he leans in. His chest hovering over the center console as he delicately unbuckles your seatbelt for you. With his face close to yours, you slightly blush and clear your throat as the smell of his cologne dances in your nostrils. He smirks as he unravels the seatbelt and lets it free from his grip. “Let me get the door for you.”

You watch through the windshield as he walks around the front of the car. Hand in pocket, his frame and stature in full sight was equally as impressive as his profile. God this man was so sexy.

He opens the door and helps you out. “Oh…thank you.” you softly express your gratitude while he takes your hand and stabilizes your posture as you hold onto the hem of your dress while getting out. His smooth tone had a faint–a very faint chuckle as he responded. “Hmph. No problem.”

The sunset fired the sky with an orange red hue. “Looks like it's going to be a full moon tonight.”

You chuckled. Confused by his deduction, you sought clarification. “What makes you think so?”

He remains staring at the sky and you feel his thumb stroking the back of your palm while your hand remains resting in his. You feel the heat of bloodrush as he continues to do so before gently releasing your hand at your side. “Just by the way the sun is setting. The color and direction can tell you these things.”

You look up to view the sky before he says goodbye. “It was nice meeting you. Please be careful. I would have someone else drive you home tonight.”

He was so kind. The fact that he had considered your safety made you fall for him, more so than what is considered normal considering you didn’t know this man. Still, how can someone be so beautiful inside and out? “Thank you…Jake.”

He flashes a smile–a real one this time. His teeth were pearly white and straight, enhancing the dashing value of his appeal. “Take care, y/n.”

He drives off after seeing you reach the front door. You sigh as sadness settles in your heart and soul watching him go. “I wish I could see you again…Jake.”

Entering the house, you announce your presence aloud, hoping that your grandma wouldn’t be startled as you let yourself in. Noticing the lack of response, you venture in and explore the house, and see no one was home. It figures. Your grandmother spent a lot of time at one of the neighbors' homes. She probably assumed you weren’t coming and went to spend time with some friends. You reached into the basket and noticed that your phone was not inside. “Oh no–my phone…my phone!”

Since your dress didn’t have any pockets, you had it nestled in the basket during the drive. It must have fallen out on the ride here, which posed another dilemma. You pick up the landline and dial your mother’s phone number, when a stagnant tone indicates that the line was busy or unresponsive.

After a few minutes of pondering, you figured it was best to take your grandmother's car and head back home. Hopefully she wouldn’t mind.

You make your way out and head to the main road, when construction signs indicated that all routes to the path were blocked. With your phone in Jake’s car and no GPS feature in your grandmother’s older vehicle, you had no choice but to head back the way you came in—the backroad. At least this time you had a car and didn’t have to face traveling by foot anymore.

Driving the same route, you turn the bright lights on as night falls. It wasn’t long before you saw red flashing beams blurring up around the bend. You make the curve and rest your eyes on a vehicle stalled to the side. The blinking lights continue to flicker on a steady tempo as you slowly pull from behind. The driver was nowhere to be seen, yet the door remained ajar. You felt uneasy, but you couldn’t leave without confirming that the passenger was unharmed. You place the car in park directly behind and call out–but no answer. You check your surroundings before breaching the driver side and peeking in–a sight that sends shivers down your spine. The windshield was stained with the words “she’s mine” all in blood. The bright red color combined with the ongoing dripping indicated that it was fresh. It only got worse as you continued to look around.

“Polaroids?”

A stack of small prints laid sporadically on the seats and floorboard–some were smeared with hints of blood. Looking closely at the photos, your breath paused as you squint in confusion. You pick up one of the prints and gasp in horror.

“This is–”

You held the photo in a pinched grip as your heartbeat escalated. The photos all were images of you during the uber ride. The angle of the camera was primarily pointed under the skirt of your dress, while others captured the fleshy softness of your cleavage, your defined collarbone, and delicate shoulders. Your hair draping over your bosom with your side profile reflecting your thoughtful gaze as you stared through the window. Everything became clear as you recognized the vehicle and its interior.

The Uber driver…

Part Two

#jake scenarios #jake imagines #jake fic #jake fanfic #jake enhypen #jake sim smut #jake sim x reader #jake x reader #jake sim #jake smut #enhypen jake #jake #sim jake #jake smau #yandere fiction #yandere enha #yandere enhypen

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veltana · 2 months ago

Text

Stranded - 2

✦ Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~2,3 k

✦ Rating: Mature

✦ Warnings/tags: Grumpy mountain man!Bucky, don't ask me about US geography just go with it, eventual relationship/romance/smut.

✦ Summary: You leave the cabin to escape Bucky's attitude, braving the cold, but it ends up being more than you bargained for.

✦ Note: For chapter 2, you guys voted for protective!Bucky! Next poll will be up tomorrow!

Stranded is an interactive story were you the reader gets to vote on what happens in the next chapter. You're also welcome to send in suggestions on what you want to happen in future parts! Everything is tagged with #stranded series. Please take a moment to reblog this fic if you liked it! Comments and asks are always welcome ❤️

Series Masterlist

Masterlist | AO3

The gentle crackling of the wood stove should be soothing. How many times had you dreamed of escaping to a place just like this? And yet, it feels more like the relentless ticking of a clock, counting down. Never in your life have you felt so unwelcome in a place you'd been invited into.

You can hear Bucky in his room not far away, the floor creaking as he walks around, then the springs from his mattress whining as he lays down.

If your clothes dry quickly maybe you can just leave. It would probably be better to sleep in your car and freeze to death than endure spending any more time with Bucky.

The isolation feels understandable to you now. He clearly hates people. But the thing you can't wrap your head around is why he would invite you in and then be disgusted by your company. It's confusing, to say the least.

You busy yourself by making the bed. After you're done you check your clothes but they're still wet. With a sigh, you lay down and pull the covers over you. You can rest your eyes for a few minutes and then maybe the clothes will be dry enough for you to leave.

You wake abruptly to the sound of howling wind and sit up. It's dark outside the windows and quiet from the wood stove. Checking your phone, you see that a couple of hours have passed. Your clothes are probably okay now, but before you can muster the energy to leave the bed, sleep pulls you under once more.

The next time you wake it's from the sound of a door opening. You lay still, listening to Bucky move around the small room, put more logs into the stove, and then go to the kitchen. "Want some coffee?" he asks, his voice cutting through the quiet. You have no idea how he knew you were awake. "Sure," you reply, doing your best to ignore the warmth that blooms in your chest at the sound of his still-sleepy tone. Despite being an asshole, Bucky is very handsome.

As the old machine starts to gurgle and sputter, you get up and look out the window. It's still windy but no more snow than what was already on the ground yesterday, which is a relief. You wouldn't want to be snowed in with the world's biggest grump. On the other hand, people always say hate sex is good. Then you mentally slap yourself for even going there. Bucky would probably agree to touch you if you were dying. Maybe.

As you turn back around you're greeted with the sight of Bucky in the middle of the room with a big block of a phone pressed to his ear. His jeans are tight over his thighs and his henley snug over his shoulders. The scowl seems to be a permanent fixture on his face.

“It's Bucky,” he says into the phone. “Yeah, no I'm fine, do you have a truck available to pick up a stranded car down by the big road?”

The person on the other end chats away and Bucky starts pacing the room.

“No it's not for me, I said I'm fine.” The sigh that comes out of him feels like it comes from his soul. “It's for a… a friend, you could say.” He glances over at you and you shrug. Better to be called a friend than an intruder.

“Hal, I don't have time for this. Do you have a truck available or not?” You watch as his shoulders sag in defeat and you know the answer without him needing to state it. He says a short goodbye before looking over at you.

“Let me guess, no one is available to get my car?” “Not for a few days, it's a small mechanic shop and they're backed up at the moment.”

You don't dare to joke about Bucky being stuck with you for a few more days. Instead, you quickly gather your now-dry clothes and head to the bathroom to change. Hesitantly, you get rid of the warm, oversized hoodie. You fold them and put them on the counter. He's probably gonna burn them once you've left but you don't need to know that.

The cabin smells like coffee and you make yourself a cup that you sip on while tidying up the bed. Bucky hasn't offered any breakfast and you're not gonna ask. The coffee will last you to the car and you have snacks there. He sits by the table with a book and his cup, not acknowledging you.

After you've folded all the linen, you drain your cup, use the bathroom one more time since you're not sure when you'll be able to again, and then start putting on your jacket.

“Where are you going?” Bucky asks, and you look over at him. His scowl is more concerned this time, but it's not enough to change your decision. “To my car.” Bucky glances out the window. “The wind is strong.” You shrug. “I need to get out of here,” you simply say. No need to point out that he’s a terrible host. He answers with a hum.

You're about to thank him for taking you in and giving you food and clothes, but he's absorbed in his book again. So you pull your hood up and head out.

***

Yesterday, you hoped to reach your destination before dark. Now you would rather walk anywhere in the pitch black if the wind would just calm down. Despite your thick jacket and winter boots, you're freezing, but at least you made it to your car.

It looks intact and you get in to get away from the wind. Despite knowing nothing will happen you try the ignition again but the car is still dead. All the way there you fantasized about it magically turning on and you driving out of there, warm and towards a place you'd be welcome.

With numb fingers, you unlock your phone but there is still no signal. Yesterday you decided that walking towards town wasn’t an option, but now it’s the only one you have. And if the opportunity presents itself you’ll be brave and stick out your thumb.

As you stuff more things into your backpack you wonder if this is one of the times where your stubbornness is getting the better of you. Then again, you are socially intelligent enough to know when you're not wanted. You're not sure why your thoughts keep returning to Bucky since you’ve known him for less than 24 hours. And known is to word it strongly. Barely interacted with is more like it.

You close the trunk of your car with a bang and start walking. Maybe the annoyance at yourself will keep you warm because the wind has not gotten any warmer. The road is as deserted as when you first got stranded. You try to keep a lookout for cars but you constantly have to put your head down as you walk forward.

Time passes but you're not sure how long you've walked or how far you've gotten. If you turn around and you can still see your car, you're gonna lay down and just die, because it feels like you've been walking for hours. The snacks you had in the car weren't nearly enough and you're starting to get hungry. What you wouldn't give for a taste of Bucky’s hot soup.

You feel like you're in a cartoon, thought bubbles with his name and face popping up above your head constantly and you want to wave them away. But you're so cold, tired, and hungry. The ground at the side of the road sure is looking inviting for a nap.

Despite better judgment, you stop. Your legs ache and feel like jelly. Tears burn your eyes because you're mad at yourself for being so stubborn. And mad at Bucky for being an asshole.

You have to keep walking. It's the only way. But you don't want to. You want to sit down.

The ground is cold and hard, but also somehow soft. Soft enough to want to lie down. You can just rest your eyes for a few minutes then you'll get back up and walk again.

A deep sigh escapes you as your body relaxes into the hard surface and suddenly you start to feel warm again.

***

It isn’t like Bucky cares where you are. At least that's what he tells himself. You said you were going to your car, he thought to get something. He could have driven you but he just wanted to start his day slow and have his coffee before running out.

Since you aren't back, he assumes you got the car going.

The sat phone goes off and startles him as he sits deep in thought.

“Hey, it's Hal! I managed to get a tow for your friend's car, I have it by the shop but it's gonna be a few days until we can get to it, is that alright?”

“She isn't with you?” Bucky asks and deep lines form between his eyebrows.

“Eh, no, the car was empty. Wait, did you have a—”

Whatever Hal is about to say gets cut off as Bucky hangs up. You weren't by the car, but you're still not back. So where are you?

A tinge of panic rises in Bucky's chest, a feeling he refuses to analyze more at this moment. He heads for the door, unsure what he's gonna do, but he needs to go out and look for you.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” he tells himself as he starts his car. “She's found someone to catch a ride with. She doesn't want you to look for her. She doesn't care about you, so why should you care about her?”

But still, he drives slowly so as not to miss anything.

***

The sound of a car door slamming shut starts you awake. Fuck, you missed an opportunity to hitch a ride, is all you can think, and you try to sit up, open your eyes, and speak but your body is slow and sluggish. Then you hear a familiar voice. “What the fuck are you doing?”

In the next moment, you feel yourself being lifted. With great effort you manage to open your eyes and see the one man you'd hoped never to run into again. He places you in his truck, buckling you into the seat, before rounding it and getting in, not saying a word before turning on the empty road and heading back the way you came.

“No,” you press out hoarsely. “What were you doing?! Trying to walk to the nearest town?!” “Mmhm,” you answer and lean your head back. You're still tired and hungry, but the car is pleasantly warm. “How can you be so stupid? It's a two-hour drive!” You want to answer that you couldn't stay but all the energy has left your body so you just shrug.

It feels like you're back at the cabin in no time, as if you didn't make any headway on your walk at all.

Bucky reaches over to unbuckle you and carries you up to the cabin, putting you on the floor in front of the wood stove.

As he's putting more logs into the stove your head starts to spin, and a second later you’re lying on your side, having tipped over from the vertigo. “For fuck's sake!” Bucky growls. “Dizzy,” you manage to croak. “Just lay there until I've warmed up some soup,” he says and walks away. The heat from the fire makes sweat form on your brow, still bundled as you are in your thick jacket. You fumble to take it off, but your fingers won't cooperate. In record time, Bucky has a bowl of yesterday's soup on the floor next to you, and you've managed to get the zipper down a few inches.

With surprising care, far more than you expect, he gently helps you sit up and unzips your jacket, then assists with your boots as well. As he grabs your hand you can feel the stark difference between your cold fingers and his warm skin. No wonder you couldn't move the zipper.

After, he scooches in behind you so that his legs bracket your body, keeping you upright, before picking up the bowl and holding it in front of you. “I'm not feeding you, just be careful,” his grumpy voice says.

The spoon shakes as you pick it up, you lean forward at the same time to not spill anything. It's slow but it works. Feeling returns to your fingers, making them tingle and hurt. The food tastes amazing, but that's maybe because you're famished. It takes some time to finish the bowl, but once you do, you feel pleasantly full. There's a light, almost drunken sensation from how good you feel—warm, cared for, and nestled between the legs of a handsome man. All you have to do is overlook the minor detail that he happens to despise you. Why would he come and get you? You don't understand. Maybe he was headed somewhere else and happened to see you. But then again, why stop? You don’t mean anything to him.

“Why'd you stop?” you find yourself asking. The flames dance in front of you and you resist the urge to lean back into Bucky. There is no answer, just like you expect, and maybe that’s for the better.

Despite it still being early evening, you sigh and say, "I'm tired," as you push yourself up. Heading toward the couch, you sway on your feet, but Bucky is right behind you. It isn't until you're halfway there that you realize he's gently steering you toward his bedroom instead.

Too tired to question or analyze the situation, you head straight to bed. Your last thought is that you aren’t dying, but Bucky still touched you willingly.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #mountain man!bucky #stranded series #veltana writes

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thisbibliomaniac · 2 months ago

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Pickup drivers be like

This is the perfect weather for tailgating

Why are men who drive pickup trucks so stupid? Is it some disease that they all have? Stupidity?

#especially on the highway #and going down hills #and on windy roads with multiple stop signs #behind people with their flashers on #instead of just passing #or - God forbid - not speeding in whiteout conditions

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the-californicationist · 2 months ago

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Brisance (2/2)

Chapter 01 // Chapter 02

TW: smut, bombs, a random line about boot-worship (?)

Johnny stayed glued to the SAT-NAV screen, tracking his pretty little bombmaker’s every move. She was spending a lot of time on the outskirts of the Kotov bloc, and although none of his scouts had confirmed with a visual, he knew it was a matter of time before they discovered her safehouse. When she eventually found the tracker, the signal went dead, but the damage was done. She’d shown Johnny enough evidence for him to narrow down her base of operations.

So, in the middle of the night, without clearance, he cut out of camp and took one of the TAC-V trucks over to the site. He pulled out all of his stealthiest moves, trying to avoid detection. He was patient, watching for movement, staying hidden in the shadows, waiting for her.

The snow crunched under his weight, so he slid in tiny steps toward a window in the side of what he thought was her base. It was a run-down lighthouse on the edge of the Urzikstani border with the Mediterranean Sea. There were no resources out here, and it was too small for any of Makarov’s men to use it as a fully-operational base camp, so it was almost completely forgotten. There had even been a dirt road leading to the lighthouse in the past – Johnny could see the old tire marks – but now, it was dark, windy, and uninviting.

The sergeant peeked his head up over the window sill to peer inside.

He could see her clearly through the open doorway of the adjacent room, her side profile backlit by a small fire she had going in the middle of the den, bent over her hands, tinkering with some wires. Unfortunately, there were only two ways inside of the building. The base only had one door, but the top of the structure had a hatch that would lead down to the main level.

Johnny had made it this far, and he wasn’t leaving without some answers. So, he strung up his rope and hook to make a climbing lead. With a little skill, he was able to latch the anchor to one of the railings, and he prayed that it would hold. Then, he began the long walk up the side of the tower, feeling every bit like Gallahad, even if the woman locked inside was no wilting damsel in distress.

He was breathless and sweaty by the time he made it to the top of the tower, hoisting himself up onto the rusted iron walkway as quietly as he could. Just as he was about to stand up, he heard the tell-tale click of a gun being cocked, and he froze in place, stuck staring into the sea and the wash of stars that glittered above it, his back to the light and the hatch.

It was silent for a long time, almost too long. Johnny moved to turn his shoulders, but the cold metal of her gun barrel against the nape of his neck stopped him in his tracks.

“Don’t…” She whispered.

Even though she didn’t say anything more, he could hear the raw, painful emotion in her voice, her tone revealing her vulnerability.

“Lass, I wasnae g–”

“I should kill you!” She snarled, shoving the gun into his skin even harder, “Why did you come here? I can’t… I won’t let you ruin this for me. Not when I’m so close.”

“Alright, lass. You’re right. Kill me, then,” he said, his voice as serious as the grave he was angling for, and he turned to face her. As he moved, the gunbarrel dragged along the sensitive skin of his neck, leaving behind a red scrape like a lover’s hickey, evidence of her touch.

For a moment, he thought she would follow through. Her eyes flashed hot and full of anger, she moved the barrel up and under his chin, forcing him to lift his eyes back to the stars, gazing up at Heaven before she delivered him to it. She gritted her teeth, her face twisted with rage, but as he peered back down at her, she was still as pretty as ever, looking like Athena at war, like a valkyrie on the vast battlefield, like Justice herself, wild and vengeful.

And yet, she didn’t pull the trigger. When his warm hand slowly closed over her cold, trembling one as she clutched the pistol, she didn’t kill him like she said she would. She tried so hard to hold onto that anger, but she couldn’t do it. For whatever reason, she let him live. Johnny didn’t take the gun from her, but he moved it down, freeing his jaw from the bite of the metal. Then, she whispered,

“I can’t stop.”

“I’m didnae ask you to stop, bonnie,” Johnny took a chance and reached up to touch her cheek, trying to comfort her through what was an unimaginable sort of pain. If Makarov had killed his sisters… “We’ll get that bastard, but you cannae do it alone, hen. Let me help you. Please.”

Her eyes peered deep into his, and within them, a darkness grew and grew, threatening to overtake her like a demon. She grabbed Johnny by his vest and yanked him even closer, her voice barely audible when she hissed,

“I need him to know it was me. I want to be the last thing he sees. For Sorcha.”

“I dinnae care how he dies, lass, but if you do,” Johnny nodded, “Then, let’s craft a wee plan. Perhaps not here on this fuckin’ balcony, but…”

That earned him at least the suggestion of a smile, and her gaze softened as she led him down the hatch and into the spiraling staircase of her lighthouse. Once inside, she reached up to latch the lock, and due to the lack of space, she had to press her chest in to his, arching her body over him and spreading her warmth through his clothes.

His breath caught in his throat, and when she heard him, she paused, looking into his face to see how he was reacting. She turned to him, examining him like a curator examines a canvas, looking at him up close to see every little brushstroke. Johnny could feel her breath on his neck, and he had to hold back a rumbling moan.

As she lowered herself down, she did so in a slow, dragging descent, rubbing herself down his chest and belly, testing his resolve. His face was twisted in a grimace, and when her thigh made brief contact with his, she knew why.

He knew that she could feel his hardon through his canvas trousers, and when she raised her eyebrows in surprise, there was nowhere for him to run. So, he shrugged, explaining himself in a low, deep tone,

“You look fuckin’ bonnie with a gun in your hand.”

His pretty bombmaker took the compliment, and she breathed with him for a moment. Then, he felt her hand slide around his waist to the front of his crotch, her palm pressed to his straining zipper, massaging the length of him as he stretched down his pant leg.

“I bet I look even better with you in my hand, huh, soldier?”

Soap grunted and lunged forward, catching her wrist to stop her from reaching his sensitive head, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she chuckled, bending to kiss his neck, and she squeezed the fat, lolling body of his prick as tightly as she could. He hissed, trying to back away from her, but she ripped her hand from his grasp and rushed down the stairs away from him, a wild look in her eyes.

“Hey! Wait,” Johnny called after her, trying to command his tingling legs to pursue.

He caught her about mid-way down the spiral, and they lost their balance, crashing into each other against the chipping, plaster wall. Johnny sealed his mouth to hers like she was his air, sucking on her lips like she was his sustenance. She was all over him. It felt like she had a thousand hands, all of them pushing and pulling and rubbing and pawing at his skin.

Eventually, Johnny managed to position himself below her in the steps, blocking her escape. They broke their kiss when they found their footing, and she stared into his eyes, that same fire repeated within them but instead of anger, she was fueled by hot lust.

He watched her, waiting on a cue. She took one step back, raising herself taller than him. Then, another. Now, his face was at her breasts, and she began to unbutton her shirt for him. He let her go at her own pace, one hand on her hip and the other crushing the life out of his cock so that he wouldn’t finish before he started.

As soon as her pretty tits were exposed, Johnny used both of his hands to rake down her bra until it snapped awkwardly around her belly, and her nipples were revealed to the cool air, tightening from the excitement and the rush. He put his mouth to one of them, suckling sweetly at first before locking eyes with her and biting down hard enough to sting. She cried out, but her hands were locked in his mohawk, fist over fist, tugging him closer, encouraging him to continue.

Johnny moved to the other one, treating it better than the first, sucking in deep, long rounds of pressure, laving at her peak with his tongue. Then, suddenly, while he was lost in her, she took another step up. Now, his mouth was at her belly button. He gave it the same attention, teasing her with his mouth, kissing and sucking and licking and biting until she squirmed and squealed from the strangeness of his pressure.

She took one more step, and Johnny was staring at the button fly of her trousers. He peeled apart the canvas, popping each button out of its hole. Each fallen button gave way to the soft pale blue cotton of her panties, covering her puffy mons. With the last button gone, Johnny wasted little time, using his hand to pull her panties down and over her sex, putting her on full display right in front of his face.

Her scent filled his nose. She was wet, and her musk was warm and heady in the air between his mouth and her body. Johnny took a moment to admire her untrimmed curls, thick and soft as they lay against her swollen flesh. He ran his fingers over the top of her, petting the hair in a downward stroke, feeling it all the way until he reached her lips, over and over, forcing blood to rush to meet his hand with a trembling joy.

Then, when he heard her sigh, he dipped one finger into the sweet honey that she had made for him, feeling the small pool of its warmth trapped behind her pubic hair, matting it down and hiding it from the cold air of the lighthouse. His mouth was on her then, and she gasped from the feeling. Her hands were back in his scalp, grabbing and scratching him, too wound up to say a word, but needing to tell him to continue his efforts.

He licked her from her wet, slipping seam all the way up to her belly button in long, rushed licks, attacking her with the softest parts of his mouth, dragging his lips over her like they would paint her skin. Then, he rooted between her folds, pressing until he could feel the turgid rod of her clit, and he began to suck, bobbing his head against her as if it had been a drooling phallus, letting her fuck his mouth with her only rigidity. She hooked her leg over his shoulder and began to grind against his jaw, moving her hips into him in mindless, undulating circles, whimpering and keening in a steady, guttural rhythm.

Johnny moved his fingers beneath her pussy lips, amazed by her warmth, and twisted his palm into her jeans, stretching her fly wider to accommodate his huge hand. It was a rough shove of fabric and flesh, but eventually, his fingertips found her eager hole and began to delve inside, prodding against her strong walls. When he was deep enough to find the spot that changed the timbre of her cries, he returned to suck at her clit, swirling his tongue through her to make sure he found every last drop.

“John…” She gasped.

His name on her lips may as well have been a blinding flare for how quickly his eyes darted to hers, answering her call from between her legs. When he saw her face, he knew she was about to come for him, her expression frozen in an unfinished scream, her body trembling, the thigh looped around his shoulder squeezing to make sure he didn’t escape from his position.

Johnny was lucky enough to feel her orgasm from the inside as well, her cunt clutching his fingers, holding him within her like a greedy little beast, hungry for whatever he would give her. The taste of her slick made him break out into a sweat, his own muscles shuddering from the excitement and the need.

As she came down from her high, he let her go, slipping out of her gently, moving to stand. But, her boot heel stopped him in his tracks, pressing down on his shoulder to keep him on his knees. He cut his eyes at her, shocked by her challenge.

She was fondling her breasts in both of her hands, smiling with visceral contentment, enjoying how he was trapped below her, smiling at him like she definitely had his number.

“Wee demon,” Johnny chuckled, moving his mouth to the ankle of her boot, his lips crawling over the oiled leather like it was her pussy, smearing his spit and her slick all over the shoe.

She gasped like it pleased her, so he continued, making his way up and over the boot until he came to her calf, scrunching up her pants so he could kiss her skin underneath, licking and sucking on her leg as roguishly as he would her tits. One of her hands found his scalp again and pet him gingerly, rewarding his dogmatic commitment to her pleasure.

Suddenly, Johnny surged up the stairs, looping both of her legs over his arms and taking her with him, pinning her between his body and the inner wall of the staircase.

“Fuck!” She grunted. The air rushed out of her lungs, and she tried to get it back.

While she was stunned, Johnny raked down her trousers just far enough to give himself access, and he began to smear his cockhead against her folds.

“Suppose you’re used to gettin’ your way, bonnie.”

Her wide eyes were her response, and the slow grind of her hips told him he would be rewarded for this, too.

“I willnae take what isnae mine to have…” He whispered into her open mouth, breathing nearly as hard as she was.

While she was thinking about his words, both of them were rocking their bodies together, dancing to a silent song stuck in their heads. She smiled at him, and he caught the sinister tone in her voice just a moment too late.

“You can have me,” she showed him a little roll of paper that she had clutched in her fist, dug out of some pocket, crumpled and white like a cloud, “If you can catch me.”

The hiss of a lit match caught his attention, shoving his mind back into a semi-alert state. When the fire from her fingers touched the flash paper, it burned like dragon’s breath, spitting and raging. She’d put a little gunpowder in the roll, and the searing wrath of it startled Soap back away from the wall. He dropped her, but she landed in a crouch, and through the smoke, she shoved her way down the stairs and out of his sight.

“Cheeky hen,” he laughed, waving the smoke out of his face and turning to race down the steps after her.

There was a door on the second landing, and he burst through it expecting to find her there with a sly grin, but it was just a storage room. Boxes and boxes of equipment, but not her. He raced down the stairs to the main level and went into hunting mode. He crouched behind the countertop of her makeshift kitchenette, scanning the floor for her boots. As silent as a breath, Johnny slithered his way through the galley, keeping his eyes peeled for movement, trying to ignore his raging length pressing against his fly.

There were two doors on the east side of the room, one led outside, but the other led to an inner chamber. The inner door was slightly ajar although the room was pitch black. Johnny slowly stepped toward it, shouldering it open as quietly as he could. When his eyes adjusted to the low light of the room, he saw what awaited him.

His gorgeous little demolitionist was laying atop a huge metal crate made of tightly looped chain link, low and wide like a grand sarcophagus. Inside of the crate, green lights blinked intermittently, each one on its own independent pace, twinkling like stars. She was fully nude, her clothing discarded behind her, stretched out over the metal box, touching herself and moving her body like an invitation.

“You caught me, soldier,” she purred, rolling another spool of flash paper in her fingers.

“Aye,” Johnny whispered, his hand reaching out for her ankle, pulling her leg up to his mouth to kiss the protruding bone, “But, what is this, lass?”

“A gift,” she sighed, pulling Johnny onto the crate with her, listening to the creaking metal complain about his weight.

Johnny kissed her, slotting himself between her legs and pressing his cock on top of her mons like a promise,

“For who, bonnie?”

He asked the question like he already knew the answer, but she told him anyway,

“Vladimir Makarov.”

Johnny’s cock was already jerking to be stuffed inside of her, but he ignored it. He could only hear the blood slamming against his ears, rushing through every vein and blazing into his belly.

They were laying on a giant bomb.

She hooked her legs around his waist and flipped him over, slamming him onto the crate flat on his back.

“Steamin’ Jesus!” Johnny looked below him at the blinking lights, praying that his presence hadn’t disturbed one of the punks or starter coils, “We cannae ju–”

Her hand coiled around his neck, and she applied just enough pressure to stop his words. Johnny let her do it, and his body seemed to take some sort of sick thrill in his compliance, his cock lunging for her as she straddled him.

She sat up tall, her knees digging into the metal loops of the crate, her pussy rubbing back and forth along the heavy meat of his prick, and her free hand pinching the soft flesh of her breast, hurting herself more than she was hurting him. Her eyes gleamed with mischief,

“Careful, soldier. Better stay very… very still… I’ll keep you safe, baby.”

Then, she released his throat and slid his cock inside of her hole, her aim true and sure, swallowing him up inside of her core in one smooth drop. Then, she began to grind against him, using his rigid tip to press into her pillowy g-spot, forcing him to feel the heartbreaking texture of her walls, drowning him in her orgasm-seeking revelry.

“Bonnie,” Soap panted, trying to stay focused lest he lose himself to her magic, “I cannae do this. I… fuck… I cannae stay steady.”

“Shh,” she cooed at him, taking her time as she slowly stuffed all four of her fingers into his mouth, holding onto his bottom jaw to silence him, “You’re the one who wanted to join me, Mr. MacTavish. Now, hold still, or I’ll have to introduce you to my sister.”

Her grinding continued, luscious and sticky, the wet sounds of her cunt loud in the stone-walled room. Johnny tried to look away, tried to concentrate on the fifty-some kilos of Semtex below his arse, but he couldn’t. Not even a bomb could pull his mind from the view of his lover’s plump little body, round and soft and full and warm, all of her curves and edges trembling as she thrust him inside of her, fucking herself with his rod, taking her time with him.

Johnny could only see her, could only stare at the glistening jewel of her pussy, giving her his thick fingers to rub against, addicted to the noise she made that came from deep inside her chest when he hit the spot she liked. He was almost ashamed at some of the sounds that were emanating from his own mouth. It was all he could do to keep from bucking himself up into her like some wild stag, blind with his rut and horny to the point of self-harm. So, if he couldn’t move, his body released that energy through his lungs, and he was moaning like her paid whore.

Between all of her sweet, sing-song yeses and oh-my-gods, he was grunting and hollering like he’d been stuck with a knife, the aura of his climax threatening him with every exhale, her pussy pulling his pleasure from him like a water from a well, dipping him in, milking him out, soaking him inside of her.

“How…” Johnny looked up at her with pleading eyes, “How will I come, bonnie? I cannae help tae move in you. I cannae… Oh, Holy Christ!”

All at once, Johnny grabbed her by the hips and lifted her up, following her with his own, pounding into her as his shoulders tried to stay pinned to the box, pushing down into the crate with all his might as his cock pistoned inside of her, humping her hard enough to leave stinging welts across her thick arse, pumping her full of his come.

She was above him, riding him like a bull, screaming for him, basking in his affections, free like a bird with her arms outstretched in rapture. For a moment, Johnny thought the worst had come over them. He came so hard that his vision flashed, and he imagined her bomb vibrating to life, consuming them both in its predetermined fury, taking him, her, and this godforsaken lighthouse with it. All for naught.

Yet, as he came to, he felt the cold chill of the crate against his skin and knew that he was alive. Only a petite mort had befallen him. His skin was electric, buzzing at every point that she touched as she rubbed his body with her body, letting him lower her back down as gently as he could.

“Mmm,” she groaned with satisfaction, “Who knew switching sides would be so rewarding?”

“Gonnae have to do somethin’ about that wee death wish you’ve got, lass. Made me come so hard, I thought I’d have to see Peter at the gates with my bloody trousers around my ankles,” Johnny sat up with her still in his arms and slid off of the crate, holding her and looking at her like she had gone completely mad.

She looped her arms and legs around him and threw her head back in laughter,

“Blasting pin isn’t even set, soldier. I can’t bel–”

Before she could finish her sentence, Johnny’s mouth slanted over hers, kissing her as deeply as he could, feeding his tongue into her throat, his movements desperate and full of heat.

“Shouldnae’ve told me that, hen,” he threatened her as he pulled away for a moment, his eyes darkening, “‘Cause now, you’re mine, and I’ll have you how I like.”

idek yall lol sorry

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lordprettyflackotara · 9 months ago

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hitchhiker || the proxies || prologue

tw: mentions of murder

“Son of a bitch!”

Masky’s voice was hoarse under his mask, the muddy slope under him making him slide forward. A rough hand grasped his forearm, keeping him from falling. He glanced over his shoulder, Hoodies gloved hand wrapped around his mustard jacket. He glared at Toby as he slid down the muddy slope with glee, splashing mud onto his already tattered jeans. Masky’s eyes narrowed as he heard the familiar quiet giggles coming from under Toby’s mask.

“W-where are we?” Toby questioned. The three looked around, Masky’s memory the most hazy out of the three. Him being elected the leader made the least sense sometimes, considering how scrambled his brain was. “The butt fuck of no where is my guess,” Masky huffed. Hoodie looked in front of them a two way road the only sign of civilization. He turned to Masky, who was about five seconds away from a rage fit. “We need to find our way back to the mansion,” Masky sighed. He began walking along the side of the road, assuming Hoodie and Toby would follow.

“You’re not seriously proposing we walk back to civilization are you?” Hoodie asked plainly. Masky gritted his teeth, annoyance washing over him. “You got a better idea?” He snapped. Toby skipped in front of Masky, turning around to face him as he walked backwards. “We c-c-can hit-tchhike!” He said cheerfully. Masky and Hoodie exchanged looks, watching as Toby raised his arm by the road. He raised a thumb, his signature bloody axe thrown over his opposite shoulder.

“Anyone who willful picks us up has got to be a lunatic,” Hoodie muttered. A set of headlights appeared over the clearing, the older men’s eyes narrowing at the sight of your car. “Looks like we got ourselves a lunatic,” Masky grumbled.

“L-l-let me do all of-f-f the talking gentleman,” The younger proxy said. Toby skipped to the front of the car, Masky and Hoodie watching dumbfounded as you rolled down your window. “Do you think it’s because she thinks the kids cute?” Masky asked his partner. Maybe he hadn’t been around women so long that they overlooked blood soaked axes if someone was attractive enough. Hoodie elbowed him. “It’s Halloween, that’s why she’s not bothered,” Hoodie replied quietly. How could Masky have forgotten? Thats the entire reason they were able to complete their mission to begin with.

“You know the rules we can’t have witnesses, no matter how cute,” Hoodie whispered. Masky eyed you carefully, noticing your doe eyes and plump lips. You seemed to be wearing some sort of fairy costume, one that made your breast sit upright. Masky sighed. “Of course. We get in the car and let her drive for a bit. Gives us a break. Once we come to a stopping point we’ll make it short and sweet,” Masky told Hoodie. He gestured his head to the revolver in his jacket pocket, the outline shoving just ever so slightly. Toby came back around the car, waving for them to join him. “Dibsss o-on shotgun!” Toby cheered.

As Masky approached the car he gently shoved Toby towards the backseat. “Yeah right kid, take a seat,” He huffed. Masky slid into the passengers seat of the car, your lips curling into a bright smile. “Hi i’m y/n,” You greeted. Masky gave you a brief nod, the three of them settling into the car. You noted their silence, deciding to change the conversation. “So, where you guys needing to go?” You asked. You started the car again, driving down the windy road. It became apparent that you were intoxicated, your perfume not able to conceal the smell of alcohol. Masky would’ve questioned your ability to drive, if he cared to survive a possible crash.

Death would be a pleasant surprise, if Slender didn’t have EJ bring him back in time. The healing process would be a bitch. “Just back to town. We got lost partying in the woods,”Hoodie answered quickly. Every so often it impressed Masky how quickly his partner could lie on the spot. You nodded. “Well i’m glad I found you guys, Halloween can get pretty crazy,” You slurred. Masky watched cautiously as your eyes flickered into the rearview mirror, looking at Hoodie and Toby. If it were up to him he would have you drive the entire way, so he could relax his never ending storm of a mind.

“What are you three dressed up as? I’m Tinkerbell as you might’ve guessed,” You giggled. Unfortunately your talking and questions were starting to get on Masky’s last nerve. “Y-you ev-ver see the purge? We’re dressed like them!” Toby replied, his neck twitching ever so slightly. Masky refrained from audibly sighing. Toby’s neck only ever twitched like that when he genuinely enjoyed talking to someone. He needed the kid to not get attached to you. Would only make the disposal process harder. And trust him, no one chops up a body like Toby does.

“Thats cool, definitely unique masks you guys have. Can I touch?” You asked innocently. You reached over to Masky, your fingertips threatening to graze his mask. The brunette could feel himself growing angry, his mask the one possession he could not allow to be touched. Hoodies loud coughing stopped your motion, your hand frozen as you glanced back in the rearview mirror. “Are you okay?” You asked cautiously. Masky sighed in relief as you retracted your hand. Hoodie continued fake coughing, giving you a thumbs up with one of his gloved hands.

The games and chit chat were growing old. Maybe if they were normal men, who actually were coming from a Halloween party, you’d be enjoyable. Maybe one of them would be lucky enough to take you home and fuck your brains out in that slutty Tinkerbell costume of yours. But they weren’t normal men and none of them were lucky. “He’s fine, just has bad a-a-asthma,” Toby explained, patting Hoodies shoulder. Masky could see Hoodie subtly cringe at the sensation of physical touch. He despised anyone touching him. “I have asthma too! Hang on I think I have an inhaler in the glovebox,” You replied.

You made a slow left on the windy road, the city lights slowly coming into view from a far. “Hey do you mind grabbing the inhaler from the glovebox?” You asked Masky. He did as instructed, clearing his throat as he handed the inhaler back to Hoodie. It was a subtle signal that they needed to get on with disposing of you. They were close enough to the city now. “Welllll you guys don’t seem like big talkers so i’ll play some music. Is that okay?” You asked. Toby nodded profusely. Music always made the kid overly excited. Masky began to reach in his coat pocket, his revolver always loaded and ready to go. He could feel his metal wrapped around the metal, itching with anticipation.

Your fingertips pressed the center console, turning on a tune Masky hadn’t heard in a long time. The Smiths filled his ears, the lead singers voice soothing. He glanced in the rearview mirror, Hoodie’s head beginning to twitch to the left. Shit, Brian’s gonna be fronting. Masky’s gaze landed on Toby, whose leg was jumping up and down front excitement. This band reminded Hoodie too much of his previous life, triggers like those allowing Brian to front earlier than expected. Masky sighed as the chorus came on, his jaw beginning to clench as an all too familiar pounding began in the front of his temple.

Brian could see Masky’s switch, his hand rubbing his temple as it always did when Tim was about to front. Tim blinked a few times, his breathing feeling suffocated under his mask. His hand slid out of his jacket, leaving his revolver inside. He quickly shoved his mask off, fear washing over him with the realization as to what he just did. Not only could they not have witnesses, but they most certainly could not let anyone who saw their faces walk away alive. Tim shot Brian a worried look, Brian quick to shove off his ski mask. As The Smiths played in the background Tim cleared his throat.

“I’m Tim by the way, and he’s Brian,” He said. He pointed at Toby with him thumb over the seat. “And I’m sure Toby has introduced himself,”

How could they get out of this without killing you?

You smiled drunkenly, Tim noticing your slight curve when driving. “Do you guys want to stop by waffle house?” You asked. Toby went to immediately agree, Brian’s hand flying over his mouth. “Maybe some other time, we have uh, work tomorrow,” Brian answered. Toby shoved his arm away, Brian struggling to keep his hand over the younger man’s mouth. “Bummer. I should probably go home too. Works such a bitch,” You sighed. Tim was trying to listen to you, he really was. But all he could think about was how he was going to have to order your execution. To arrange your meeting with death himself.

His brown eyes flickered to Brian’s in the rearview mirror, who were silently awaiting his instruction. Tim knew his partners expectation, but as he looked over at you, he just couldn’t do it. As you drove into the city you hummed along to the song, your fingers tapping along the steering wheel to the beat. Tim couldn’t put his finger on why exactly he was determined to let you go. Maybe it was his morality that surfaced when he immediately switched. Maybe it was how tired he truly was. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept. Whatever it was, something about you called to him. That calling involving you being alive.

The city lights were mixtures of purples and yellows, illuminating the inside of the car. “Can you pull over at the gas station up here? We live nearby,” Brian interjected, ruining the silence. You nodded, turning on your blinker and driving over to the right lane. Tim didn’t want to leave just yet, resentment of Brian’s words washing over him as you parked the car. “Well here we are,” You say. It wasn’t hard to see you were still drunk, your eyes glazed over. Tim couldn’t help but conclude your intoxication was the only reason you were so calm.

“Thanks for the ride, appreciate it,” Brian said, sliding out of the backseat. Tim listened to the car door slam, slowly taking off his seatbelt. Toby followed his lead. “B-b-bye beautiful!” He said, retreating from the car. Tim gave you a brief glance. He was doing the right thing by sparing your life, right? He slid out of the car, grabbing his mask and shoving it into his coat. You rolled down your passenger window, giving them a wave. “I’ll see you guys around, right?” You asked. Something about the ominous three men was intriguing, a mystery seemingly dying to be solved.

“Most definitely,” Tim replied. He leaned down, propping his arms on the passenger door as he peered down inside of your car. “Seriously, thanks for the ride. If we run into each other again we’ll make up for it,” Tim offered. You smiled, the faintest flush of pink highlighting your cheeks. “I’d like that a lot,” You replied. Tim leaned away, giving you a wave.

“Goodbye Y/n.”

“Goodbye Tim.”

With that you drove away, leaving Tim standing beside Brian and Toby. “You let her go?” Brian questioned. Tim dug into his pants, digging out a box of cigarettes. “Just like that?” Brian continued to questioned. Tim shrugged, bringing a cigarette to his lips. “No sense in killing her. She did us a favor,” He replied blandly. He began digging around for a lighter, Toby furiously jumping in between them. “What?!?! Y-you guys-s-s wanted to kill her?” Toby gasped. Brian rolled his eyes. “Dont be so naive, she’s a witness and we leave no witnesses behind,” He informed him. Brian shot Tim a dirty look and added, “Especially after they’ve seen our faces.”

Tim was aware he was breaking about twenty different protocols by letting you go. He was also more than aware Toby could’ve taken care of you entirely, he wouldn’t have needed to be involved. But he wanted you to live. It was an odd sensation he had never truly felt before, raw craving for someone that came across their path to walk away scratch free. “How long are we stationed here?” Brian asked. Tim finally found his lighter, igniting the end of his cigarette. Once he inhaled he replied, “About another three months.”

Brian crossed his arms, both him and Toby trailing behind Tim as he began to stroll down the sidewalk. He exhaled through his nose, ignoring Brian’s dirty looks. “How exactly do you propose we avoid her for three months?” He asked. Tim rolled his eyes. “For starters there’s the entire possibility she’ll be too drunk to remember us anyways,” He began. He watched as Toby galloped ahead, his axe slung over his shoulder like always. Tim brought out his pack of cigarettes again, gesturing for Brian to take one.

“Besides her meeting us was a mistake. A girl like that doesn’t belong in our world. She’ll never see us again. We’ll be a drunken memory,” Tim insisted. Brian took a cigarette, a gesture that meant he was going to try to trust Tim on this. Tim flickered the lighter, igniting the end of Brian’s cigarette. Once Brian inhaled, the two continued walking.

“You just let her go because she’s cute huh?”

“Dude shut up.”

—> chapter one

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fridgemissionmaster · 3 months ago

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Barbatos x Reader Drabble/Ficlet: A Butler’s Excuses

In which Barbatos finds reasons to spend time with you.

Word Count: 1111

Warnings: N/A

AN: I really should get back into tap dancing, it's been too long.

@om-adventcalendar

You didn’t even need to look at your phone to know what that sound was, Lucifer reminding you dinner would be ready soon and that you needed to get back. Diavolo and Barbatos too knew that sound all too well, the merry making and chatter from before instantly silenced.

“Perhaps you could stay for dinner? Or the night! We have yet to discuss your report on the current exchange program.” The young prince’s smile was already beaming at his own suggestion, his butler nodding in silent approval.

You thought for a moment, ultimately sighing. “We already used that excuse last time, if we keep pushing this he’ll start coming over to pick me up himself or sit in on these things to make sure we ACTUALLY talk about that.”

These visits to the palace had become one of your favorite things upon your return to the Devildom. With how the exchange program was handled the first time you honestly didn’t think Diavolo took it at all seriously but it seemed since then the prince had decided to switch up his strategy, now having you drop by regularly to discuss you. How your time here has been, if there was anything to be improved on, anything demons don’t know about humans that they might need to, like how humans get depressed without sunlight and need special lamps so the eternal night of the Devildom wouldn’t make them miserable. However usually they end up being about ‘you’ as an individual and not ‘you’ humans.

To Diavolo’s disappointment Barbatos already began cleaning away the tea set and tiered biscuit tray.

After thanking them for tea and treats you quickly took your leave, little D no. two by your side to escort you out.

Even putting aside the lovely company these visits were worth it just for the walk. Upon getting through the front gates you rarely ever went through the palace itself, instead the gardens to get to your meeting place that gazebo beside the shimmering lake.

One could so easily get lost in the gardens at times the place more like a forest, or sprawling botanical garden. Dirt and cobblestone paths marked the way, a guide by your side just in case though you had long memorized it by now.

On occasion there was a surprise, like Barbatos off in the distance by the gates, an umbrella hanging off his arm.

“I shall escort you the rest of the way.”

“Oh, okay, thank you?”

The Devildom and the Human world may have many differences but at least one similarity they had was the weather and from what you could tell, it was rather clear out, a little windy but even if it did rain you should have had enough time to reach the House of Lamentation. Little D no. two too seemed confused but quickly scurried away upon understanding their duty was done.

And with that the pair of you left.

It was rather quiet for a Devildom… evening? Despite your time there your mind always wanted to think ‘night’ when referring to any time of ‘day’ in the place.

The distant buzz of city life could be heard but the sound you were focusing on was the tap, tap, tapping of Barbatos’ footfalls against the cobblestone road. Rhythmic and light, simple yet lovely.

They suddenly came to a stop, halting you in your tracks. With a pop the umbrella was opened and held above.

It was sprinkling.

“You didn’t have to get an umbrella for me just for this.”

“No, I did. It wouldn’t do for you to come down with a cold from your visit, the young lord would be so saddened by the thought.”

… What was that in his voice; the slight lit, the hint of playfulness on the tip of his tongue.

“Then I must inform him humans aren’t that fragile… in that respect at least.”

“Truly? Even so, it also wouldn’t do for you to return and be wet, that’d be a failing on my part.”

It was tough to gain a more animated expression from the man beside you, but you could easily see how he studied you, your quirked up brow and the giddy, mischievous smile pulling on your lips.

You took a step back out of the umbrella’s protection.

He took a step forward, a new smile on his face. The butler had many smiles, a neutral one, a polite one, a furious one, and now this new one you couldn’t recall seeing before.

You hopped back.

He hopped forward.

You slid to the side.

He slid to the side.

“Mc”

You could not tell the tone, if he was simply saying your name or questioning your actions.

You shuffled back, on the last step hitting your heel to the ground before kicking your foot up a little.

His foot slid forward before he hopped, landing on the toe of the other. He stood so close, just a hair’s width apart.

Sliding to the side he spun on toe before sliding his other foot out getting in front of you!

A small step, a strike of the toe to the ground before a strike with the heel, then a little hop, your back foot landing on the toe. Your partner did a larger leap, one foot sliding further back, maintaining that little distance.

Perhaps it was simply a reflection of the town’s lights on the shimmering stone but you could swear your partner’s eyes began to sparkle. You couldn’t repress giddy laughter as the pair of you continued to dance along, one always chasing after the other, never too far. The clacking of sole on wet stone, the light tinkle of water against the umbrella, and his quiet chuckle your music.

It was intriguing how his movements so differed from yours, something elegant, purposeful and natural in each of his movements, long strides, yours fast, short, bursts of step meant to tap along.

It was beautiful in his demon form, his tail trailing behind his steps almost like a ribbon. It too danced on occasion, lightly curling around you, making sure your differing styles didn’t accidentally take you too far apart.

Taking your hand you were spun around and taking his he was dragged into hops and heel brushes.

“AHEM!”

Lucifer stood there, arms crossed. “You’re late.”

When had you arrive at Lamentation’s front gate!?

Barbatos placed a hand on his chest, taking a little bow. “Mc thought to teach me a few human dance steps on the way here, it seems I got so absorbed in your lessons. I hope we may continue this soon.”

“O-of course! I’d love to!”

#omadventcalendar #obey me barbatos #barbatos x reader #om barbatos #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #barbatos x mc #obey me fanfic #obey me drabble

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emsgwenstan · 8 months ago

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Why not me?

Larissa Weems x fem reader {angst}

words: idk 2.5k?

warnings: language.

note: ok idek what this is, i haven't written anything in months because of burnout, so really just something i pulled from drafts.

“Don’t.” It was to the point; it was sharp and clear. I picked up my handbag, coat and gloves and evacuated the room as swiftly as possible.

Slamming the door behind me, I could feel its vibration, the loud noise echoing through the halls and corridors, just like every one of my steps down the marble stairs. Frustratedly, I rummage through my bag to find my car keys, desperately needing something to just go my way, I plucked them out and balled the abundance of jagged metal in my fist while storming across the cobblestone to reach my car.

The second I sat in the driver's seat, tears started to roll down my cheeks and my nose started tingling, I shove the keys into the ignition and reverse out of the staff lot before practically doing a burnout when setting off. Where to go now is the question. Where to go indeed. The only home I’ve ever known is nevermore, the safe place I retreat to when the outside world is far too cruel, when normies are unkind and when life gets too much.

Every possible place I think to go isn’t an option, they are all riddled with memories of her, there’s nowhere in the whole of Jericho that I haven’t been with her, the park benches and weathervane after getting hot chocolates on a sunny winters day, the local bookstore on a windy spring morning, the clearing just off the road in the woods on a gloomy autumn afternoon, or the empty fair ground on a cool summers night.

“Oh, you would love her y/n, she very pretty and quite the catch, she flatters me all the time and is very sweet-.” “Don’t.” The conversation plays on a loop, God why? Why wasn’t I enough? The trees reflections whipping across the windscreen seemed to become faster. “Goodness, can you believe she asked me? I haven’t been on a date in years.” She had said. “Help me find something to wear dear?” She asked, and, without question I did.

My grip on the wheel becomes tighter until my knuckles turn white and crescent shapes are imbedded into my palms. Did she not know? Didn’t she realize? Has she not seen the way I look at her? Before I drive myself out of the town ship I stop on the side of the road. I just sit there, I sit and cry for a long time, even as dusk falls and night comes, I sit and cry.

Many cars have passed my own, however none caught my attention until I heard one ripping down the road sounding like it’s going a million miles an hour, when it passed the brake lights almost immediately illuminated my skin and the tires screeched as it stopped, my brows crease in confusion until it reversed back alongside me. Quickly I came to realize who it was. Larissa.

Without second thought I tried turning my car on though it wouldn’t turn over, how bloody convenient. I looked to my side to see her get out and run to my door. “Shit.” I breathed. She reached for the handle and was stunned when she couldn’t open it a dumbfounded expression overtook her pale features. “Open the door.” She pleaded I didn’t look at her, I kept my eyes in front of me still trying to start the engine. “Darling open the door.” She begged, her voice cracking and muffled by the glass.

“Y/n so help me god I will smash this window if you don’t open the damn door.” Her accent became thicker as she yelled. I just wanted her to go away, I rest my temple on the headrest in defeat. For a moment it was quiet- too quiet, that was until I heard her door slam close. I peeled my eyes open and saw her wrapping a cashmere scarf around her wrist, immediately in rage I unlocked my door and stepped out. “What the hell are you doing!?” I seethed. “What am I doing!?” She asked incredulously unwinding the material. “What the hell are you doing!? Where have you been? I called you close to forty times with no answer, I thought you were hurt! I thought something bad happened!”

“Why do you care?” I spat, the bitterness rearing its ugly head. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re my friend, of course I’d care!” There it was friend. Somehow that made it worse- another kick to the guts. “Yeah, ok.” I murmured, twisting around and pulling out my bag, closing the door and storming down the tar road. “Where are you going!?” She shouted. “Away, far away from you!” I bit back.

“Stop!” She growled frustrated and confused. I ignored her request and continued walking. “Y/n!… oh, for fuck's sake.” Her voice died in her throat as she came to the conclusion that I in fact didn’t care for what she had to say. Larissa threw down the scarf and started power walking towards me, her heals clacking hard against the ground, her stride quick and harsh. “Hey-… hey! Christ just stop.” She said exasperatedly reaching my shoulder.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” I shrugged her off ripping out of her grasp. “Take the hint! Larissa, I’ve made it clear enough that I don’t want to be near you!” I yelled whipping around to face her. “What have I done? What is going on? You don’t do this- you don’t pull this kind of childish behavior; I expect this from a student not you of all people.” She reacted. “Thanks, truly.” I sarcastically remarked and resumed walking.

“Fine I’ll just follow you then.” She said as if she was one upping me. “Piss off.” I said starting to walk faster. “Tell me what is going on! Please.” She asked her voice a little calmer and more desperate. I once again ignored her. “Y/n. I’m not going to stop until you tell me what has gotten into you.” She said starting to slightly limp from the ache in her feet. “What has gotten into me?… what has gotten into me?” I stopped abruptly.

I spin on the spot facing her again throwing down my bag in the middle of the road. “You.” I said creeping towards her with my finger pointed towards her chest. “You have gotten into me!” I yelled. “Me?” She asked, her brows furrowing and voice shaking. “Yes you! Day in day out, I’m sick of it!” Larissa’s posture straitened and head slightly dropped to the side in question. “Can you elaborate?” She said her eyes flicking about showing her confusion.

“It would be my pleasure. Let’s start shall we. “I’m not sure where I’m going wrong, I just wish someone would want me.” Or “I’m not good enough.” Or “y/n, why doesn’t anyone fancy me? Is it because of this or that'…or some bullshit reason.” I started, quoting just a few things from her. “What? Are you annoyed now that I actually have someone who could potentially be interested In me?” She asked furiously.

“No, I’m annoyed because of how ridiculous it is.” I retorted. “Ridiculous?” She growled through clenched teeth. “Yes. Ridiculous. How many times was I there to say those things aren’t true? How many times have I reassured and helped you? How many nights did I spend being by your side trying to make you happy!?” I asked. “What are you getting at!?” She asked, her eyes wide and lips twisted. “Months… years actually! Listening to you talk absolute garbage about yourself and continuing to do so after me telling you I’m here! - and, and now… you’re settling? for some waitress who thinks you’re pretty?” I explained looking directly in her eyes.

Larissa recoiled and looked as if she had been slapped. “Tell me how you really feel.” She murmured crossing her arms over her chest. “Jesus Christ, get a grip! Are you that thick!? I’ve been tryi-” I began. “Don’t even start, what about you! As far as I’m concerned you don’t have a great track record in relationships!” She yelled, her anger taking over once again. “Just fucking listen!” I screamed, rendering her completely silent.

When I realized she had bit her tongue and no longer wanted to argue, I started to speak again in a more relaxed tone. “I haven’t spoken, been with or even looked at anyone else. I’ve said nothing, but I’ve tried in many ways to show you, to tell you… every single time you have had a problem, a bad day, needed help, needed comfort, who’s been there? Me. I have. I know you better than anyone and I’m telling you that, that woman isn’t for you.” I stated.

“Right. So, your jealous that you're not the one who’s getting the chance with her, is that what you're saying? Because I thought you would be happy for me, out of all people y/n.” She said quickly and bitterly. “No that’s not-” I try. “I’ve heard enough, you want to be left alone fine, go ahead.” She said rolling her eyes and turning around to walk back to her car. “Larissa.” It’s her turn to ignore me. Before she got too far, I reached for her wrist without thinking and stopped her.

“I am.” I said quietly, pulling her to turn back toward me. “Your what?” She asked back. “Jealous.” I express timidly, looking away from her but keeping the firm grip. “But not of you… of her… I’m jealous of her.” I said just above a whisper. I look back up, my gaze trailing from her shins to the hem of her dress, to the waist belt of her grey coat, to her neck, lips and face, her very confused face.

“I’ve tried to tell you… I’ve tried everything apart from actually saying it.” I said loosening the grip on her wrist. “Do you have any idea how hard it was? How hard it is to listen to you talk about someone else making you happy? Someone else who can see the side of you I’ve only ever wished to be privileged to see?” Larissa’s face dropped; her angered expression melted away as I continued.

“What?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.” I said in the same level of tone, goosebumps forming over my body as a shiver made its way down my spine, right there I knew I ruined everything. I close my eyes and let go of her wrist, I could hear her take a step, but it wasn’t back towards her car, it was to me, my eyes snap open as I feel her entire body engulf mine, in all the years of our friendship we’ve never hugged like that. Not once.

Together we stood planted in the middle of the road not daring to move an inch, it felt like it lasted a lifetime but in reality, it was only a few moments. My head and my heart were reeling, so many emotions, so many feelings, so many memories, so many 'what ifs'. “Larissa.” I said into her chest. “I know.” Was the reply. “Let me say it.” I murmured, Larissa’s chest heaved and contracted deeply, she guided one of her hands to rest on my temple and forehead moving the fallen hair in front of my eyes. “Look at me… please.” She asked pulling back just a little.

I lifted my gaze to her eyes and held the lapels of her coat, smoothing them and giving myself time to breathe. “I…” I swallowed. “I, love you.” I said quietly, tears threatening to spill from my eyes. “I have for so long.” I breathed, finally after God knows how long I finally said it, although my relief was short lived when I saw Larissa face slowly revert back to one of distain.

“This isn’t fair.” She said pulling away and taking a step back her brows furrowing and unable to look me in the eye. “What?” I asked in disbelief. “I-… I liked you for a long while y/n, but now you choose to tell me?” It took every inch of me to not cry immediately. "What are you saying?" I asked dumbfounded, feeling bile build up in my throat. Completely taken aback, I recoiled and was in such a state of disbelief that I turned around in utter shock, plucked my bag from the ground and resumed trekking down the road.

The whole world felt like water filled the atmosphere and I was drowning, my limbs felt heavy and the cold seeped into my bones, I heard her muffled voice call out to me, but it was far too late, the second I looked up a pair of headlights were set right towards me...

#larissa weems #principle weems #gwenchrist(ie)#larissa weems x y/n #larissa x reader #gwendoline christie #wlw fanfic #larissa weems x reader

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