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muwapsturniolo · 3 days ago

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Cyber Sex 💿 M. Sturniolo

"W-was it good?"

✘ sub!matt, loser!matt, domish!reader, riding, hand jobs, titty sucking, one use of mommy.

PT 1 PT2 PT3

Decided to give yall an early xmas gift!!! enjoy the last part to cyber sex!!!!

Weeks.

It's been weeks since she had seen Matt and given him a blowjob. He had accepted his reward of taking her out on a date, but now it seemed like he was avoiding her.

Which was partially true.

As always, he was focused on his studies, especially with finals coming up. He stayed cooped up in his room or in the library, taking notes on top of notes. Passing all his tests was one of the only things on his mind, the other being her.

He wasn't trying to avoid her on purpose, but he will admit he's been milking the studying excuse.

It wasn't that he didn't like her, he was infatuated with her. It was just the fact the she was...well, her.

Everything about her was intimidating to him, the way she carried herself, the way she smiled, the way she squinted her eyes when she was up to no good.

She was a force to be reckoned with, and she knew it too.

So here she was, gathering the bags of takeout and other things, leaving her apartment with one thing on her mind.

Matt.

She doesn't take the elevator, knowing that the stairs would be quicker, and she's right.

Soon, she's standing in front of Matt's door, a determined look on her face. She knocks twice and waits impatiently for the door to open.

Unfortunately for her, it doesn't. She huffs and knocks again, but this time louder, the impatience she's feeling only getting stronger. Soon, she hears the muffled sound of cursing and some movement before the door opens.

" Hell-" Matt's breath catches in his throat as he sees her in all her glory. His eyes widen, and he fixes his glasses, looking off to the side.

"H-Hey what are you-" She ignores him and pushes her way into the apartment, looking around for a few seconds before setting her items down on the coffee table.

"Alright Matthew, let's talk." The tone of her voice makes him look down at the floor.

"You have been avoiding me, I don't know why, but you have, and to be honest, I don't like it. So what's your issue?"

He scoffs softly and crosses his arms, looking like a scolded child.

"M'not avoiding you..." He trails off, knowing good and well that he's lying. She stands in front of him and tilts her head, not believing him for a second. " Oh really? You're not avoiding me? Fine then, guess I'll go tell someone else that they wo-No!" He shouts unexpectedly. A small smirk makes its way onto her face as he watches him fidget anxiously.

"I-I'm sorry ok? I just....Like I said, you make me nervous, and then finals are starting, so I've just been everywhere... I-I didn't mean to make you feel bad o-or anything." Her smirk drops as she realizes this runs deeper than him simply avoiding her.

He truly was scared and nervous; this was all new to him, and he didn't know how to navigate it, and finals coming up wasn't helping him at all.

She softens her demeanor as he continues on, rambling in an attempt to clear the air. "I-I do want to take you on a date...I just don't want to disappoint you o-or embarrass myself..." She wasn't dumb, she could read between the lines.

He didn't want to disappoint her sexually.

"Matt....You don't have to worry about th-"

"Ok but it is something to worry about! I'm 21, and I've never done anything remotely sexual! All I do is stay to myself and study! I might as well be called a loser! hell, maybe even an incel!"

She stares at him with a straight face, "Matt-"

"And then here you are, the most experienced person I've met, the most prettiest girl, and yet I'm being a pussy and won't even take you out on a date! I'm fumbling! Hard! If this were a test, I'd fail!"

She finds herself smiling softly at his academic analogies.

"Are you done?" She asks him once he finally stops talking. He huffs and adjusts his glasses, running a hand through his hair. "Good. Now shut up and listen to me." She takes a step closer to him, his breath hitching.

"I don't care about any of that, ok? I don't care that you're a virgin and that I was the first girl to hear you moan." His cheeks flush a soft pink, his palms getting sweaty.

"What I care about is a boy that I find cute, sexual feelings aside, won't take me out on a date.....Now, I got takeout and a Lego set I'm not building alone. Do you want to join, take a break from studying?"

So there they were in Matt's living room, giggling and building a Lego set, the empty boxes of takeout discarded on the coffee table. The tension once in Matt's shoulder had disappeared, now knowing nothing was expected of him, and she wasn't worried about any of that.

He was able to relax, slowly coming out of his shell. She enjoyed his company, his witty remarks, his dad jokes, and the way he laughed. She was getting to know more about him and his life.

He was a good person to be around.

"I don't know where the piece goes!" He grunts in frustration as he tries to shove the Lego piece against another. She chuckles and snatches the instructions off the floor and holds them up. "This is why we have instructions, but no, you're too good for instructions.'' she teases.

He looks at her with a face of mock annoyance, "I'll have you know I've built multiple Lego sets with no instructions!" He points towards the various sets displayed around his apartment.

"Ok well, clearly your no instructions streak is over." Matt huffs and snatches the instruction from her grasp, shooting her a sharp look when he hears her snickering. He looks down at the small words and begins to read them, his eyes darting across the page as his tongue pokes out in concentration. As he does so, she takes the time to really examine him.

He had on a white thermal along with some grey sweatpants, his hair was a bit messy from how many times he ran his fingers through it, and he just looked

good.

"I think I got it!" His shouts of excitement brought her out of her daze, her eyes trailing down to the paper pamphlet falling to the floor. She sits on her knees and moves closer, their faces side by side as he puts the Lego piece in its correct spot. His hands moved quickly as he put the other parts together, his body bouncing in excitement.

It doesn't take long for the display to be finished, Matt's head whipping towards her.

"Done! Told you I didn't need the-" His words trail off once he realizes how close she is. She feels his body tense and his breath hitch, his eyes darting between her lips and eyes.

She quickly takes notice, the corners of her mouth twitching gently.

"Do you wanna kiss me?"

Her voice comes out in a teasing whisper, her eyes taunting him. He gives a slight nod, his tongue darting out to lick his dry lips.

"Y-yeah...."

"Then kiss me."

It's cute to her how scared he was, the way he slowly leaned forward and softly placed his lips against hers. She hums and stops him from pulling away, deepening the kiss and taking full control, allowing her tongue to enter his mouth. She pushes him back against the bottom of the couch and climbs into his lap, pressing her chest against his.

She giggles softly feeling his cock begin to harden underneath her, the tent growing bigger and bigger. She grinds against him, enjoying the way he whimpers softly.

She goes to pull his pants down, but he quickly grabs her hands, stopping it from going further.

"W-wait wait! I-I'm sorry, I umm-" He clears his throat as he pulls away from the kiss, his breathing ragged.

"Hey hey-" She caresses his face and chest gently, trying to calm him down. "What are you saying sorry for? We don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"I-I want to I just...." His face turns beet red as he thinks about him being a virgin. He knew that she already knows this information, but having to say it out loud, the thought, It was just embarrassing for him.

"I know, that doesn't bother me Matt."

"I-It doesn't?" He was confused, why would it not bother her? Why isn't it bothering her? Don't girls want a guy who knows what he's doing in the bedroom?

She smiles and plants her lips against his once more, " Nope-" she trails a few kisses up to his ear before whispering,

"- It's the perfect way to teach you what I like."

He can't help the groan that leaves his mouth, the thought of her morphing him into her perfect plaything, her teaching him how to please her....He loved it.

He slowly lets go of her wrists and allows her to pull his sweatpants off along with his boxers. She wastes no time, wrapping her hand around him and slowly jerking him off. He sighs out, the stress and tension in his body fading away with every stroke.

Her thumb swipes over his tip, his lips parting slightly. Her hand felt better than his, it was so soft, smaller than his own.

He's embarrassed with how quick his balls tighten, his dick twitching in her grasp. He was close to cuming, and that's not what she wanted.

She pulls her hand away and moves back, pulling her own pants and underwear off. She settles back down in his lap, grinding their bodies together. Her bare and wet cunt only provide him with more pleasure, his breathing speeding up rapidly.

"Gonna let me ride you?" She asks breathlessly, her own pleasure rising due to his tip nudging her cunt repeatedly. He finds himself nodding eagerly, too excited and lost in pleasure to form a complete sentence.

She smiles and crashes their lips together once more. She situates herself on top of him, lining his tip up with her entrance before sinking down.

It's always the slip-in that gets her.

Her head falls onto his shoulder as his head tilts back onto to couch cushions, her thighs quivering at the stretch.

He was perfect, just as she had thought. He stretched her out just right, filling her up to the point where she found it hard to breathe.

This was a new and exciting feeling for him, it took everything in him not to cum on the spot. Her spongy, wet, and warm walls felt different from the ones inside her mouth, and he didn't know which ones he liked better.

She begins to move back and forth, grinding against him before starting to bounce up and down. Her soft and pretty moans flow through the apartment, making it harder for Matt to think straight. She was like a siren, clouding his mind with her sweet melodic songs, luring him to the ocean for his death.

His hands stay limp at his sides, his fingers twitching as they itch to touch her.

But he was scared, scared that if he did touch her, she'd disappear, and he'd wake up thinking this was all a dream.

"Fffuck Matt, s-so big!" She pants in his ear, her arms wrapped around his neck as she continues to bounce on him.

Her thighs and calves quickly become tired, a pout forming on her face as she looks at him, begging him to help and touch her.

"T-touch me Matt - Shit!- P-please!"

He couldn't say no to that face, he'd be dumb if he did.

So he finally caves, wrapping his arms around her like a bear and helping her keep up with her own movements. He adjusts his legs so they are propped up, and gently begins to buck his hips, meeting her every time she lands on his lap.

She gasps as he hits that special spot deep inside of her, her orgasm getting closer and closer. Their lips connect once more, their tongues messily fighting and their teeth clashing.

He holds her tightly, his fingernails digging into her skin, leaving small indents.

He needed to be closer.

Without a second thought, he removes her shirt, her breast falling free and bouncing in his face. He doesn't know what came over him, but neither of them was complaining.

She throws her head back as he takes one of her nipples into his mouth, and fondles the other. He sucks gently, using his teeth to gently nibble on the skin.

He moans in delight, his eyes closing, his glasses lopsided as he finally gets to experience all that he's been waiting for.

"Shi-it! S-so close, please please please, don't stop!" She begs, urging him to push her over the edge. He follows her directions, not changing anything he's doing, and continuing to pleasure her.

He feels his own orgasm approaching, his whimpers turning into loud and deep moans.

"Fuck, pl-Oh god! M-mommy!" He didn't even realize he said it, but she heard it loud and clear, and it was just enough to push her over the edge.

She moans loudly and falls against his chest, her juices trickling out and down his shaft. The feeling of her walls clamping down on him repeatedly was enough to make him follow her lead, hot spurts of cum painting her insides.

They lay against the couch, the both of them panting softly, still wrapped in each other's embrace. She slowly peels her body away from his and smiles at his flushed cheeks and dazed expression.

"W-was it good?" He asks in between labored breaths, his nerves clear as day. It was obvious he was eager to please her, wanting to hear her praises and words of reassurance.

"You were perfect pretty boy......Can you handle another round?"

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #smut #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt girl #emo!matt #matthew sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo imagine #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #loser!matt #loser!matt sturniolo

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cometconmain · 1 day ago

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Just gonna point out here (targeted in the direction of anyone calling the CEO shooter a terrorist) that this constant slapping of 'terrorism' on shit that isn't by people in power who want to delegitimise acts of measured violence against specific people in power who actively caused the suffering and death this was about are making people stop treating that term seriously and I think that's a really big problem.

Nobody else died. Whoever did definitely kill the CEO didn't blow up an entire building to get to one guy. He didn't do a mass shooting of the building to get to the one guy. He didn't target random civillians and hold them hostage and sexually assault and slaughter them while planning killing as many people as possible regardless of what they've done or not done as individuals. He didn't attack a concert to get one guy. His only political statement with the murder was 'these people have been murdering us in the tens of thousands for decades and it's time they understood we've had enough through the only language they seem to understand because they ignored us when we were talking peacefully and went on killing us anyway because due process was never going to stop them when they have the game rigged in their favour.' And he made sure only the person responsible for these acts of horrific fatal negligence against innocent people was the one who died and no one else. That's not terrorism. At most it's assassination and we can argue about whether or not that's a helpful mindset to be accepting in the long term as much as people like but for fuck's sake people HAVE TO STOP labelling shit terrorism that isn't. It's watering the term down and people who are rightfully angry at being shut down at every turn when they do things that can't be swept under the rug (which applies to all kinds of non-fatal activism so don't come at me on that) are starting to ignore actual terrorism when it happens because their experience is that anyone using that word is just trying to remove the last shred of power a group has to stand up to their oppressors.

Do we have to just also make sure we consciously don't let ourselves redefine that term in either direction? Yes. But it's a two way street and everyone else misusing that word in the first place need to meet us in the middle in not waving it around slapping anyone and any activism they're made uncomfortable by like it's a wet noodle regardless of what the people they're slapping are ACTUALLY doing or not doing.

If we decide terrorism is bad (and obviously actual terrorism genuinely is!!), and then decide anything involving any form of violent resistance in the face of increasingly violent oppression is now terrorism, what kind of message do we send to all the people who are basically being told they're not allowed to resist that oppression now even if the situation isn't changing enough from the peaceful measures because every time they come with an olive branch they're met by a policeman/soldier's baton/tear gas/taser or even bullet?

The longer we go without listening to people when they ARE talking, and shutting down all other avenues to reach change except for the violence we also condemn as blanketly wrong regardless of circumstance, the more enraged and violent those people will get. It's basic psychology and easy enough for people not experiencing that inescapable oppression to say kindergarten level shit like 'violence is bad; killing is wrong.' If someone tries to kill you in the street and necessary escalation to stop them results in their dying, is that wrong? But they were trying to kill you. Were you supposed to limit yourself and increase your chances of death because they had a family? What about your family?

There have to be nuances to this because the world is more complicated than the play room where all the toddlers who can't handle that nuance are. Little Tommy isn't stopping little Johnny from talking to him because he doesn't have that kind of power. An adult can step in and resolve the child-level issue and make Tommy listen to Johnny and teach them to handle conflict peacefully and respectfully.

That doesn't apply to the adult-level capitalist world where money over millions of people's lives is the norm and intricately rigged and enforced so it never changes through peaceful resolution (we can keep chipping away and we do make things more bearable than the rich people want to give us, but it's a constant and exhausting battle while in the meantime everyone we love is either dead, dying or at risk of dying around us every day this goes without being properly fixed). In a world where a homeless man can be murdered in cold blood on a subway train after the attack stopped, but a CEO who has killed a horrific number of people in cold blood himself gets shot and his killer made an example of to the angry populace who see this discrepancy and understand that the powerful are only trying to maintain their status quo, there is only so much saying "Please pretty please stop killing us. We're human beings. We've justified to you over and over again why what you're doing is wrong and you still kill us with no consequences and no end in sight but maybe if we just keep talking and expecting a different result it'll happen" can do to stop the status quo that is constantly being propped up by corporate and governmental interests.

No one actually wants to be in a civil war. Most of us don't want to kill people. Bringing the rich and powerful who have killed so many to justice through due process and a proper trial is always going to be better and healthier for our society than walking up to them and shooting them.

But if you give people no other choice because you will never see that proper trial by your own design...

What else are those suffering and dying meant to do? Just keep suffering and dying quietly? Accept this constant violence toward them only to have their desperate violence called unacceptable and wrong and terrorism while yours is quietly swept under the rug?

Never target innocents. Never try to wipe out an entire group of people for the actions of a few. That IS terrorism and unjust and unacceptable because it's unnecessary force against random innocent people. But if the few who are doing those horrific actions aren't being stopped by normal societal methods of dealing with them peacefully and they continue shutting down every avenue you try to take to make them face justice non-violently and you actively make sure only to target them that's not terrorism. That's being pushed to the brink and finally breaking the way everyone will eventually under that type of oppressive violence and then making sure only the people actually committing that violence against you receive violence in return. That's self defence.

This literally is the only course left in a truly dystopian system where there truly is no end in sight except through making it clear people can't take it anymore, because they don't let people express that peacefully either. What else are those people supposed to do when you will never go to trial and ALSO refuse to let due process and proper trials happen to those you want silenced?

Terrorism stopped sounding like a bad thing to us when people made it mean anything they didn't like. And that's seriously fucked up because actual terrorism where people are targeted indiscriminately for a political or religious statement really is wrong and fucked up and unnecessary and has to stop. It's never necessary to do that even if it's about fighting the status quo and increasingly violent oppression. You can do that without killing or even risking innocents. The guy who shot the CEO proved that. There's a middle line to walk here and we have to make sure we don't let people flopping labels around like wet noodles make us think that terrorism is just ok now because it's been applied so frequently to defence of the public both violent and peaceful in a system where they shut down all other methods of change they would have to listen to otherwise.

And the people treating it like a wet noodle only to go on to committing acts of violence and aggression to terrorise the public with no repercussions themselves have to stop doing all of that and all the shit this is about in the first place. We know what the authorities are doing with this public spectacle and all it's doing is making people angrier and happier to commit more violence. This is how you get more and actual terrorism, not less of it, because people with less care for those nuances are going to see you doing this shit and decide that makes it necessary to expand the crosshairs. (Again, people need to know the difference and choose not to do that; but you know these assholes will jump on that the second it happens to lend credence to their decrying of genuinely necessary and properly measured violence against them to stop their constant unrelenting oppressive violence against everyone else. And then all the bootlickers who have not yet experienced the leopards eating their faces will tut tut and decry everything too in support of the leopards all while those leopards are eyeing up their faces next.)

Honestly I'm pretty sure the Redcoats would have called the Americans fighting for their freedom 'terrorists' during the American Revolution if that had been something they could use to delegitimise the Americans' cause in the public eye. It would be interesting to see what they did say instead because it's unfortunately a very effective tactic people in oppressive power over others use all the time now. I wonder if people used to fall for it as badly back then too as they do in the modern era.

"I’m very concerned about my client’s right to a fair trial in this case. He’s being prejudiced by some statements that are being made by government officials. Like every other defendant, he’s entitled to a presumption of innocence. But unfortunately the way this has been handled so far his rights are being violated. And as you know, Your Honor, there’s a wealth of case law guaranteeing his rights to a fair trial, but none of the safeguards have been put in place yet here — in fact it’s just the opposite of what’s been happening.

He’s a young man, and he is being treated like a human pingpong ball between two warring jurisdictions here.

These federal and state prosecutors are coordinating with one another at the expense of him. They have conflicting theories in their indictment, and they are literally treating him like he is some sort of political fodder, like some sort of spectacle.

He was on display for everyone to see in the biggest staged perp walk I’ve ever seen in my career. It was absolutely unnecessary. He’s been cooperative with law enforcement. He’d been in custody for over a week. He waived extradition. He was cooperative at all accounts. There was no reason for the NYPD and everybody to have these big assault rifles — that frankly I had no idea it was in their arsenal — and to have all the press there the media there. It was perfectly choreographed.

And what was the New York City Mayor doing at this press conference, Your Honor? That just made it utterly political. And as your honor knows under Loro v. Charles, the Court of Appeals for the 2nd Circuit has held it to be clearly established that these staged perp walks to the media unrelated to a legitimate law enforcement objective is unconstitutional. And I submit that there was zero law enforcement objective to do that sort of perp walk. There’s absolutely no need for that whatsoever.

And frankly, Your Honor, the mayor should know more than anyone about the presumption of innocence that he, too, is afforded dealing with his own issues. And, frankly, I submit that he was just trying to detract from those issues by making a spectacle of Mr. Mangione.

And there are consequences to this.

He has a right to a fair trial. And I just want to put on the record statements that the mayor made publicly about my client. Nothing saying “alleged” for example. And he said “I wanted to send a strong message with the police commissioner that we’re leading from the front. I’m not just going to allow him to come into our city. I wanted to look him in the eye and state ‘You carried out this terrorist act in my city, the city of New York that I love.’” And he wanted to show symbolism.

Your Honor, he’s not a symbol. He’s somebody who is afforded the right to a fair trial. He’s innocent until proven guilty. And the mayor was talking to jurors — future potential jurors that elected him. Those are the people that elected him that he is talking to and calling this man a terrorist.

So, Your Honor, I just want to make a record of this and put everyone on notice that this has to stop, and my client is entitled to a fair trial and the presumption of innocence."

#human rights #united healthcare #uspol #not transformers

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sadesluvr · 3 days ago

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TEETH.

Sergei Kravinoff might be a villian, and you a hero; but at the end of the day you're both animals.

A/N: First fic in a while so my bad if it sucks. You already know this movie was basically ass but we only watched it for ATJ anyway - I'm changing some of Kraven's character so he's similar to the comics/Spider-Man 2 game, so be sure to read the tags bc he’s a lil dark…

Word count: 2.3K

Tags: SMUT / DUB-CON / Spiderwoman! Reader / Breeding / Unprotected + rough sex

Kraven feared nothing.

It simply wasn’t in his blood; not his staunchly machismo upbringing, nor in his DNA, quite literally having that of a lion. Fear made one weak. Fear made you less of a man. Fear was what killed his mother.

If anything, fear was just another animal; ready to be captured, killed and conquered, ultimately destined to be draped across his chiselled body or mounted on a wall.

You were simply no different.

He never really understood why people were afraid of spiders, but he knew that they were a nuisance, having haunted him since he was a boy. Spiders weren’t savages like lions or bears, but they were sneaky; crawling around in the dark and waiting to strike, with a face so obscured that you’d never really know what you were looking at...what they were thinking.

But now, with your mask off, he could see you clearly. Fear; clouding your eyes and consuming your lungs as you heaved, choking on the intensity of the emotion itself as your pupils darted between the beige, bloodied teeth on his necklace and a crossbow pointed right at your heart.

“So, you’re the insect causing me all this trouble?” the man mused; legs crossed upon a desk as he eyed you. “I should’ve known.”

“Should’ve known what? You know nothing about me.”

“You’re a girl.”

“Sexist, much.”

He chuckled.

“Far from it. My father, however, was quite the traditionalist. He would’ve done much worse by now.”

There was a heavy silence as you swiped at your bottom lip. Much to your dismay, blood had begun to dry, and you were left with a salty, scratchy throat. Liquid, some of any kind, would’ve been appreciated, but you knew all too well that Kraven wasn’t one for showing mercy. Like all the villains you’d encountered, you’d had a push-pull relationship with the Hunter since the very beginning. He created a plan; you foiled it, sometimes you’d get your ass beat but the ending was almost always the same – with you safe from harm's way, and a bloodthirsty ego chipped away, but momentarily put to rest.

On this occasion you’d slipped up, your Spidey-senses failing you and placing you right into harm's way, shipped into the back of a van and somehow escorted to a somewhat uncharacteristically lavish mansion.

You'd always found Kraven to be a man of contradictions; whether he realised it or not. He was the best and worst of both worlds, a hunter with all the grit of someone who’d been fighting their entire life as a poverty-stricken rogue, and yet you’d come to learn that he was a Russian aristocrat, hence his rather extensive knowledge and unrelenting desire for control. Still, nothing took away from the fact that he was a brute, not even his strikingly good looks.

“Just shoot me and be over it,” You continued, watching as he lowered his feet from atop the desk and strolled over to you. “You didn’t need to drag me all the way here.”

He looked even bigger than usual, but perhaps it was because you were perched uncomfortably on a chair, arms bound behind you as you craned your neck to look up at him. Your mind couldn’t - no, didn’t - want to fathom what he was thinking of you from this angle.

“Don’t get me wrong, I care nothing about your secret. I just wanted to look you in the eye.” He mused, rummaging through his back pockets. Your breath hitched in your throat as he slid a knife from its sheath, finely carved and sharpened and lowered it to his side before pacing around you, stopping as his firm torso pressed up against the tip of your neck. Squeezing your eyes shut, you braced for your neck to be split open, only to be released from your bounds.

Instinctively, you went to shoot some webs, hoping you could at least catapult yourself across the room, but he tightly grasped your wrists, steadying your arms in place.

“I wouldn’t try anything if I were you,” he sneered. “These are antiques.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Fuck you.”

“Get up,” he announced suddenly, almost dragging you to your feet. Hesitantly, you began to shuffle out of the room, overwhelmed by the seemingly endless walls and corridors, all framed in ivory and the finest mahogany. “Keep walking until I tell you to stop.”

You continued down the hall, opting for a straight line. It seemed to be the correct way as once you passed into the threshold of a room that had a velvet chaise lounges and a dresser, he dropped his hands from their grip on your own, closing the door behind you. Oddly enough, you never heard the click of a latch.

Without a word, he walked past you to open the drawer, rummaging through the contents. It utterly baffled you why you didn’t feel the urge to protest, or even fight. The entire ordeal was feeling more like a glorified house tour with a side of intimidation rather than a future crime scene.

Was it because he was handsome? Wild? Filthy rich? Whatever happened to your values? Perhaps Jameson was right.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the man placing something in the desk, curling his finger to beckon you towards him.

“See this? This is what keeps me going,”he said, rolling a vial of florescent liquid in his fingertips. “You and I are more alike than you think.”

You scoffed, trying to ignore how close he was to you. He had an earthly musk that invaded your senses, sending tingles down your spine… and to your core.

“I don’t need a drug to do what I do.”

“Never mind the drug. It’s our blood that makes us strong.”

You cocked a brow and he ignored your confused look.

“You know, I’ve always hated spiders…” he began, rubbing his beard in contemplation. “Too itchy; unpredictable. You never really know where they’re going to show up. If I ever saw one, I used to pop them like a zit.”

There was a clear disgust in his words and vacant look in his eye that sunk you into a pit of fear for perhaps the first time since regaining your consciousness. You knew that it was just about you (surely), but perhaps a weird extension of your being; something bigger, far more innate than a girl in a spandex spider suit.

“But then I realised that for their size, they’re deadly. Powerful, even. Recently I’ve wondered what it would look like if I harnessed it myself.”

You swallowed, suddenly conscious of your dry throat once more.

“A drop of blood usually does the trick.”

He tutted. Perhaps you were being too fickle.

“No, любимец [darling], not that way. I crave something more.”

Your eyes darted to the lounge. Since when did Spider-Woman lack composure? Kraven’s impenetrable gaze followed your own, and he chuckled knowingly.

“With your arachnid abilities and my strength, we could create something truly unique. Nature has its ways, you know.”

“You’re sick,” you replied, your chin held high but your bottom lip wobbled. “I’ll never join you. What you do is immoral.”

Kraven furrowed his brows.

“You killed a man, and you talk about morality?”

“He was a bad man.”

“He was my brother.”

The word humanised him a bit. The Chameleon wasn’t your most imposing foe, but he was still a challenge you’d been rather glad to conquer. It was all too often that you’d fallen into the trap of thinking that the world was black and white; good and bad, when occasionally it was grey. Kraven was allowed to grieve his brother, but at the end of the day they were both bad guys.

Then why did he turn you on so much?

“You don’t have to resist,” the man grinned, strolling towards you. He stopped, glancing down and reaching a hand up to cup the sides of your face, caressing your cheekbones and sides of your lip with his thumb, threatening to penetrate your mouth. “I’ve never been this close to you before…I can smell you.”

You were both superhuman, but he had the thirst of a predator. Quite literally. Breath hitched in your throat as he angled his lips to your ear, whispering a few fatal words.

“Give in, маленький паучок [little spider]. Your body yearns for me.”

One large hand was wrapped around your neck as he kissed you, his wild beard scratching against your face as his other hand snaked down your suit, down to between your thighs. The latex did nothing to offer you safety, his callouses prodding at your wet slit and beginning to rub in small circles, oh-so internationally slow, making sure he pressed against the hood of your clit.

He had you as soon as a small moan escaped your lips. It’d been a while since you’d been touched, let a alone by someone who was as well-travelled as The Hunter himself, and every kiss, nibble and squeeze was sending you into a deeper spiral of lust and guilt that you could barely fathom that you’d already made your way to the lounge.

You pulled away as your calves collided with the frame, lips wet and parted as you glanced up at him – wholly helplessly. His hand remained firm on your face, angling his head as he smirked at your shielded demeanour, a far cry from the flashy superhero you’d been but an hour ago.

“Kra—“

“Don’t call me that,” he said through gritted teeth. “Call me Sergei. I need to hear you say it.”

The name rolled from your lips as a cry as he bunched the sides of your suit in his hands and tearing it apart, exposing your bare pussy and ass, with strands of fabric shaping your legs like a makeshift garter. He grinned, large hands frantically groping at your thighs and ass, spreading your cheeks apart and exposing your hot core to the cool air.

“прекрасный.” [Gorgeous] he moaned, swatting at your ass before dipping his fingers inside you, rubbing your folds between his fingers as you coated him in your juices. Grasping your hands around his thick neck, you clung onto what you could as he explored your body, lowering you down onto the smooth velvet.

It wasn’t long before he straddled you, holding your body down with his pelvis as he removed his jacket, giving you an eyeful of his crafted torso. Unsurprisingly, he had the body of a God, with a prominent v-line and happy trail pointing down to between his legs. Even through his heavy trousers you could make out his bulge, mounded and ready for you.

You gasped in anticipation, watching as the man withdrew his cock from his briefs; red and girthy, with precum spilling from his tip. Skilfully, he spread your thighs, making sure they were safely by your sides (he’d seen how flexible you were, your ankles touching your ears was nothing) and lifting your lower back slightly off the cushions, pushing into you with a deep sigh.

At first, his intrusion was a dull ache, but as he began to move his hips against your own you felt utterly fulfilled, moaning and writhing as he wasted no time in daggering your wanting pussy, making sure you felt every inch.

“Sergei...” you cried, eyes fluttering shut as you flung your head back in pleasure. “Please...”

“Say it again.”

Words evaded you.

The man grinned, flashing his canines as he tightened his grip, compelling him to fuck you harder. The whole ordeal was obscene; New York’s most treasured hero being bent into submission by the villain of the week, a scene so heinous that it was all the more endearing, and with every thrust you knew you wanted him more. Sergei didn’t care whether his combat boots scuffed the fine upholstery, or if his grip on your waist would leave a few bruises – he just wanted to own you.

He huffed as his heavy balls slammed repeatedly against your crack, beginning to bottom out in you with every hit, so much so that it looked like you were conjoined.

Even through the strain in your legs you could tell you were close, knots in your stomach slowly beginning to unravel as your walls clenched around him, earning a delighted rumble from deep within his chest.

You knew that he wasn’t one for talk, but you would’ve appreciated the warning that he was about to come. Every guy you’d been with tended to get sloppier, but he grew stronger, the literal animal in him taking over as he began to ramble and curse through gritted teeth in Russian.

Sergei threw his head back as he held you down, hands pawing your breasts and strands of hair sprawled in a beautiful mess across his face as he came, ropes of hot white cum spilling into your pussy just as you dressed his cock in a silky sheen. Your chests heaved as you desperately tried to come down from your high, glancing down at your messy nether regions as his seed began to seep out of you.

There was no going back. Nine months began now.

Would it really be all that bad?

It all went back to fear, really. In the back of his mind the thought of a spider still troubled Sergei, but at least he’d conquered it. Even if it was temporary.

FIN.

#florence writes!!#kraven x reader #kraven the hunter x reader #sergei kravinoff x reader #aaron taylor johnson x reader #atj x reader #kraven the hunter smut #kraven x reader smut #atj smut

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straylightdream · 3 days ago

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heaven knows

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jeon wonwoo x f.reader x kim mingyu

who knew being roommates could turn into so much more.

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: coming january 2025

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞(𝐬): romance, roommates to lovers, angst

𝐚𝐮(𝐬): non idol

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 11k and counting

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: nightsmares from a past car accident mingyu had, anxiety, depression, body image issues, lots and lots of emotions, pregnancy

𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex, creampie, oral (both rec), hand job, fingering, pussy stretching, big dick wonwoo, mingyu dick is even bigger, anal play, threesome, spit roasting, anal, double penetration, voyurism (both boys like to watch), needy reader, soft dom wonwoo (like he’s very soft, he just good a being in charge), nicknamed: baby, baby girl (hers)

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: mature, 18+

𝐚𝐧: I was looking at an older story and wanted to make it a minwon story. Honestly I have fully reworked it and only some of the plot is the same and a couple scenes.

If you would like to be tagged please fill out this form.

-PREVIEW-

It all started one night when you had a really bad nightmare and went to the kitchen to get water, and found Mingyu sitting on the barstool at the counter. He also couldn’t sleep himself. He told you about his nightmares he’s had since he was in college. You learn about the bad car crash he was in that almost killed him. He said he doesn’t really talk about it often. You were the only person he opened up to about that night other than Wonwoo.

“I don’t like sleeping alone,” he sighs.

“You don’t have to. I can lay with you if you want.” Part of you felt like you were crossing a boundary here that you probably shouldn’t. But there was something about Mingyu that always gave you a sense of comfort.

Following Mingyu off to his bedroom you each take a side of the bed. For a while you just lay there staring at each other. After a while Mingyu reaches out taking your hand.

“Could I possibly hold you?” He asked barely above a whisper.

“Of course.” He pulls you close to him and ask you to roll over. Laying on your side he moves so he pressed up snug against you with his hand holding your soft stomach.

That was the first night you and Mingyu innocently shared a bed together.

It became a frequent habit of both of you sleeping together just to cuddle after Mingyu would have nightmares. Wonwoo joined in one night about a month in when he walked into Mingyu’s room to check on him and found him curled up next to you. You were both wide awake and spooning while talking. You both looked over at Wonwoo with the look of a child who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“What’s going on here?” He asked, leaning against the door frame.

“I had a nightmare again and asked if she would lay with me.”

“Gyu what didn’t you get me?” Wonwoo’s face drops a little and he looks sad. Mingyu has mentioned that in the past especially during college after his accident Wonwoo was by his side. He said in the beginning he couldn’t even sleep alone that Wonwoo would lay in his bed holding his hand.

“I’ve been sleeping like this with (Y/N) for about a month.”

“Oh.” Part of you feels guilty that Wonwoo seems hurt.

“Did you want to join us?” Mingyu asked, tugging you closer to him.

“Would you mind?” Wonwoo sounds nervous. You both just shake your head. Slowly he crawled into Mingyu’s bed curled up onto the other side of the bed in front of you. From that night on you rarely ever slept alone.

You nuzzled against Wonwoo’s chest as you started to slowly wake up. Mingyu’s strong hand gently rubbed your thigh letting you know he was awake. Gently you rolled off of Wonwoo trying not to wake him up. Looking over at Mingyu who had moved back a little to give you room.

He laid on his back and signaled for you to cuddle up against him. You moved back into the position you had just been laying on Wonwoo. Your leg once again was tossed over Mingyu’s waist as your head nuzzled against Mingyu’s strong chest.

His hand gripped your thigh pulling you even closer to him. A soft moan passes your lips unexpectedly. This was the first time your cuddling had even gotten close to sexual. There was suddenly a thick sexual tension between you as you let out another low moan as your pajama covered cored rutted against his hip. Your eyes went wide as you bit your lip. You didn’t mean to moan, but the way he was pulling you closer to him was intoxicating.

His warm eyes locked onto yours as he was trying to figure out what was going on in your mind. He suddenly wanted to kiss you but he didn’t know if you even had feelings for him.

You suddenly felt embarrassed at the fact you moaned as your body moved against him. Your eyes quickly moved away from his dark ones.

#svthub #thediamondlifenetwork #minwon x reader #minwon smut #wonwoo smut #mingyu smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #wonwoo x reader #mingyu x reader #wonwoo x you #mingyu x you #heaven knows

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chunibyo-x-sorcerer · 3 days ago

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Daichi is ready to fight until Eito chirps, letting him know that the spirit, or rather spirits are not hostile. The flame sorcerer lowers his hands.

"Hold on! You're...on the posters. The missing kids!" Daichi said. The children nodded before the boy speaks,

'Ummmm.....please don't be scared.....we....we wanted to say something before we went to rest for the last time......' the boy said but he saw the other kids looking at them.

'We...We wanna say thank you again..for setting us free. It was scary after that meanie...did to us but...we are all now free and being watched over by Mr. Choko. He said we would find you guys here....to say thank you...'

Daichi blinks to which Eito tweets. "I see. I'm glad Mr. Choko is there for you guys." He smiles.

'Though...we...he said we will be taking a long nap and maybe go to a better place after....we all can't wait to go somewhere new....but....a good nap does feel nice.....' he said before hugging his plushie.

'We even said sorry to your friends.....we didn't mean to cause trouble for you all....we were scared...but we are sorry for it..' a little girl said hiding behind the boy. 'We hope you can forgive us for scaring and hurting any of you....we didn't mean to. That's why we are saying sorry to you to show we didn't mean it. I just hope we didn't scare the others...though, the pink haired man with tattoos on his face was really nice. He was even kind to read us a story when we visited a few hours ago..'

Pink-haired guy with tattoos. Wait...Sukuna?!

"And there's a lady with tattoos as well. She plays tag with us with her big cat wolves ." That sounds like Kinie Ger. "She told us to talk to you guys in your dreams so that way you will stop having bad dreams about what happened." Said the boy as the kids nodded with a smile.. But then the boy turns sad, "Though...I did see my parents but I want to see them one more time before I go.."

Daichi kneels down hearing this, "I will tell your parents..." He said as he went to pat on the Zilla plushie, "Thank you for coming here and telling us that. I-" He has no words what to say to them. "You didn't scare us. We were scared but not because of you. We were scared of the bad things that meaning was doing." He said, referring Meko to as the meanie. "Now it's over, your nightmare is over." He said. "That said, thank you." Daichi smiles. "I think that place you're going to is going to be better place than here."

"Yeah, what's up?" Daichi looks over to see something. Eito tweets as he notices this too. He looks over to see the Zilla plushie that looks pretty old and it was set down.

"Uh...did I bring a Zilla plushie here by accident? I think I did, right?" He asked Megumi. Eito tweets. "Wait...are you saying there's something with Zilla and there is some cursed energy in it?"

"..I..don't think you did. Didn't they give you guys new ones?" Megumi said remembering.

Then he blinks to see Zilla tilt his head, "What is that?"

The Zilla plushie didn't move before some energy was showing around and growing now. Megumi was about to summon the rabbits to stop whoever it was. Maybe a curse was lingering around them. Was it a danger?! However, he got his answer seeing a little boy. It seems to be holding the Zilla plush but he saw the Rabbits to bend down looking at them. The Rabbits blinks looking at the spirit before the little boy waves at them.

".....Wait....isn't that one of the kids?" Megumi asked but saw the boy look at Megumi and Kisho while hugging the Plush. That's when a few more shows up showing the other kids. Some boys and girls.

"?!?"

'Ummmm.....please don't be scared.....we....we wanted to say something before we went to rest for the last time......' the boy said but he saw the other kids looking at them.

#ic #thesilverpeahenresidence #rp #jujutsu kaisen au #tasmaniandevil taz hellion and kinie ger #halloween rp;#fnaf x godzilla inspired rp #thesilverpeahenresidence ( the cursed one yet kind soul yuji itadori #thesilverpeahenresidence ( the sorcerer of ten shadows megumi fushigoro )#thesilverpeahenresidence ( the witch with the hammer and nails nobara kugisaki )#thesilverpheanenresidence ( the girl with great positivity hana yurikawa )#thesilverpeahenresidence ( the blonde gunner sorcerer yuria niguredou )#thesilverpeahenresidence ( the one who sees them the badger miko yotsuya )#Deamon-mun: In Kisho's defense...he would argue that he wants to make it more colorful!

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psychoticfemmm · 13 hours ago

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between two worlds

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

summary: Rafe steps out of his comfort zone to join the Pogues for a beach night.

The beach was alive with the usual chaos that defined the Pogues. JJ was digging through a cooler for beer, Kie was setting up a makeshift bonfire, and Pope was arguing with John B over whose turn it was to collect firewood. You sat on a blanket, watching the sunset over the ocean, your heart racing as Rafe Cameron’s figure loomed in the distance.

“I can’t believe you invited him,” JJ said, shooting you a pointed look as he cracked open a beer. “This is sacred Pogue territory, Y/N.”

“He’s my boyfriend,” you said simply, brushing sand off your legs.

“Yeah, unfortunately,” JJ muttered under his breath.

Sarah shot him a look. “Give him a chance, JJ. If Y/N can handle his crazy ass, we can for one night.”

You turned to see Rafe walking toward you, his shoulders slightly tense, his hands shoved in his pockets. The evening light softened his features, but you could tell he was uneasy. He wasn’t exactly a welcome presence among the Pogues, and he knew it.

“You didn’t tell me it’d be this many people,” he murmured when he reached you, leaning down to kiss your temple.

“Rafe, it’s literally just them,” you teased, gesturing toward the group. “You’ll survive.”

He rolled his eyes but sat down next to you, his hand instinctively resting on your knee. The gesture didn’t go unnoticed.

JJ snorted. “Look at him. Acting like he belongs here.”

“JJ,” you warned.

Rafe tensed but didn’t rise to the bait, his thumb rubbing slow circles against your skin. “Nice to see you too, Maybank.”

“Alright, everybody chill,” Sarah interjected, sitting cross-legged on the blanket. She gave Rafe a small smile. “Thanks for coming, Rafe. Even though I know you’re out of your element.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow. “You could say that.”

“Just don’t kill the vibe,” JJ added, plopping down on the other side of you.

The tension was thick at first. Rafe sat quietly, his usual cocky demeanor dimmed in the face of the Pogues’ scrutiny. You felt the weight of his discomfort, and it made you squeeze his hand reassuringly. He looked at you, his blue eyes softening as if to say, I’m doing this for you.

As the night wore on, the tension began to ease. JJ’s antics and John B’s storytelling had everyone laughing, even Rafe cracking a smile here and there.

“Alright, I have to ask,” Kie said, looking directly at Rafe. “How does a Kook prince like you end up with a Pogue queen?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Kie—”

“No, it’s fine,” Rafe said, surprising you. He leaned back on his hands, glancing at you with a small smirk. “I guess I just like a challenge.”

JJ scoffed, but Kie rolled her eyes. “Seriously, though.”

Rafe’s expression softened as he looked at you. “She’s different. She doesn’t care about any of the crap I used to think mattered. She calls me out when I’m being an idiot, but she also makes me want to be better.”

The Pogues fell silent, exchanging surprised looks. Even JJ looked slightly less annoyed.

“She’s good at that,” Sarah said, smiling at you.

You felt your cheeks heat up, but before you could respond, JJ pointed at Rafe with his beer bottle. “Alright, Cameron, you’re scoring some points. But don’t think I’m not watching you.”

“Duly noted,” Rafe replied dryly, earning a laugh from John B.

As the night wound down, you and Rafe wandered a little farther down the beach, away from the firelight and the laughter of your friends. The ocean waves crashed gently against the shore, and the cool breeze tugged at your hair.

“See? That wasn’t so bad,” you said, bumping his shoulder playfully.

He huffed a laugh, wrapping an arm around your waist. “They hate me.”

“They don’t hate you,” you assured him. “They’re just…protective.”

He stopped walking, turning to face you. “And you’re worth protecting.”

You rolled your eyes, but the sincerity in his gaze made your heart skip. He stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“I mean it,” he said softly. “I know I don’t always fit into your world, but I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure I do. For you.”

Your breath hitched as his thumb traced your cheek, his touch warm and familiar. “Rafe…”

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the waves.

Before you could respond, he leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, as if he was trying to pour every unspoken word into it. His hands settled on your waist, pulling you closer, and you melted against him, the rest of the world fading away.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Alright,” you said, your voice teasing but soft. “You’re forgiven for being awkward.”

“Awkward?” he repeated, feigning offense. “I was charming.”

“You were stiff,” you corrected with a laugh.

He grinned, kissing you again, this time quicker but no less sweet. “You bring me around them enough, and I’ll charm them too.”

“Let’s not push it,” you teased, lacing your fingers with his as you started walking back toward the fire.

In the distance, you could hear JJ yelling, “Hey! No PDA where we can see it!”

Rafe groaned, but you just laughed, pulling him closer. He might not be a Pogue, but tonight, he’d proven he was yours—and that was more than enough.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe x reader smut #rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #fanfiction #obx season 4 #outer banks #obx #aesthetic #drew starkey x reader

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rafesbangs · 2 days ago

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𝜗𝜚 bf!rafe had been hitting the gym a lot lately, and gosh had bunny!reader noticed it

c!w; mdni !! gymbro!rafe sorta (he's not toxic just beefy yum), bunny!reader, bicep riding, playful biting no blood, size kink !, use of the nicknames rafey & baby, p in v, 'unprotected' sex, choking, overstimulation. notes; think season one rafe if he went to the gym more instead of doing all that coke lolll i love him tho. bring beefy rafe back pls !!

you were just lounging on the couch of rafe's condo, the sun finally setting, just minding your business watching some girly series in a small cami and lacy shorts that you could never watch with your macho boyfriend.

you could hear the key in the front door turning, the door opening and you shot up smiling. god you loved seeing rafe when he just got back from the gym, the pump still visible and sweat gleaming off every juicy muscle of his.

"hiiii rafey" you sang, grinning from ear to ear, ogling him shamelessly. he was completely aware you loved how he looked in those stupid tanks he wore to the gym, how you had a thing for his beefy biceps. he scoffed with a grin, taking note that once again upon coming back from the gym, here you are, waiting attentively to stare at him.

he dumped his bag to the side of the couch before coming over and flopping down, "hey baby" he breathed, leaning back into the couch. you immediately glued yourself to his side, already latched onto a bicep. he looked down at your hand before grinning up at you, signalling he knew what you were doing.

you chewed at your lip a little, looking at him through your lashes, "how was the gym?" he knew all you wanted to hear was how much he lifted with his strong arms but he began talking about cardio, and your face slowly dropped.

"what baby?" he mocked, faking disappointment in your disinterest, "do you not wanna hear what i did?" you pursed your lips, realising you didn't want to give away just how obsessed you were with his big muscles and nodded, still clutching a bicep as you listened.

he scoffed and looked down as he shook his head, "i know what you really wanna hear..." your eyes went a little wide at the confrontation. you were totally caught out, of course he knew, you were so bad at hiding how wet his beefy frame made you.

you looked away, face a little flushed as you tried to hide the tinge of embarrassment flowing through you. "noo c'mon, i love that you're so obsessed with my muscles bunny, makes me feel like 'm doing good at the gym" he cooed, reaching a hand to tuck fly aways behind your ear.

you looked back at him, grinning, "mm. just love you rafey." you shyly replied, your hand now squeezing and feeling up the bicep you've been clinging to.

he looked down at you as you played with his arm, very amused.

"you wanna ride my bicep a lil', bunny?" he smirked. you stopped dead in your tracks, face now bright red. are you going to say no? ...well, no. but the way he so confidently asked you made you so nervous.. but so wet.

your bottom lip slid between your teeth and you carefully nodded. rafe's brow furrowed slightly for a second and his other hand grasped at the fat of your cheeks, stopping you from chewing on your lip, "uh-uh, don't bite your lips like that. bite something else."

when he'd finished his sentence you'd already made up your mind, your eyes lighting up and after he released your face from his grasp you pulled his arm up and quickly sunk your teeth into his bicep, happily chewing and drooling all over it. rafe grinned, his signature smirk adorning his face.

"as much as i love how much fun you're having bunny, why don't you get those little shorts off off hm?" he said lowly, his free hand snaking around your hip. heat pooled in your stomach and you released his arm, faint teeth marks indented in his bicep.

he took no time in pulling your lacy shorts off, tongue darting between his lips as he took in the pretty sight that was your wet panty clad cunt. a hand cupped your heat, sending a quick jolt of pleasure through you at the touch, your pussy sensitive.

"c'mere, come rub this pussy on my bicep hmm?" he prompted, all shame had dissipated from your pretty little head and you watched as rafe lay down on the couch, his arm splayed out and ready for you.

you practically jumped up before coming over and slowly sitting yourself right on where his muscle tensed, a grin spread across your face as your panties grew more and more wet.

rafe flexed, the muscle tensing under your wet pussy and the sensation driving you insane as you rutted up against him. "such a good girl f'me, so wet all over my bicep" he cooed, only making you more dizzy as you used your beefy boyfriend to pleasure yourself.

after a little while, your poor pussy grew desperate to have something to clench around, and rafe could tell you needed his dick in order to cum.

he smirked and as soon as you got up to straddle him, he had you turned around, your back to his chest and your ass in his lap. he wraps his arm around your neck in a headlock while spreading your legs to hang over his. kissing your face and whispering in your ear while pulling his throbbing cock from his gym shorts, "let's see how much you love these muscles around your neck while my cock's in that sweet pussy hmm."

you could've died right there, he tapped your clit making you jolt in pleasure, your cunt too sensitive now and begging for it, rafe slid his cock through your folds slowly before finally plunging into you.

it took a moment for you to sink down completely on his length, but when you did you let out a loud pornographic moan in satisfaction, rafe groaning with you. he was thrusting into you so hard that you let out a shriek with every stroke of his hips, the sheer girth of him was splitting you open. your eyes were wide as you see what looks like a belly bulge coming up from under the flesh of your tummy, "ohohoh rafe! it's so so big, ohmygoddd" you groaned, not having to worry about anyone but the neighbours hearing your shrieks.

he was drilling into at an unforgivable speed, his bicep curling increasingly tighter around your bare neck, you were on the verge of blacking out when his arm loosened to start toying with your clit as his other hand continued to bounce your on his cock.

"fuuuck, you're taking this fat cock so well bunny, shit" he rasped into the shell of your ear causing you to roll your eyes back. your brain was practically empty, rafe's cock filling you so far to the brim that all you could think about was how stuffed you were.

"uh huh, uh huh- i love your cock rafey." you groaned back, delirious as the coil in your tummy tugged, threatening to snap any minute. rafe continued to fuck you senseless, groaning himself as his cock began twitching, he too nearing release.

finally white hot rushed through your body, coating rafe's cock as he spilled into you with a ragged groan only to drive himself into you hard, rubbing your clit to keep you cumming. you were convulsing, shaking and legs trembling, writhing in pain and pleasure as rafe works your poor, swollen sensitive bud. "rafe.. rafe! please!" you begged, entire body twitching when he made you cum immediately after the first time.

completely fucked out, you slumped back against rafe's sweaty chest, still groaning a little. the fog in your mind still strong when rafe carefully lifted you off his soft length and onto the leather couch. you lay there, breathing deeply as he grinned at you,

"such a good little bunny f'me, i love you." he whispered, gently kissing your lips and then your forehead.

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megalony · 1 day ago

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He Can't Have You

This is a new Evan Buckley imagine requested by the lovely @darkfemme1 I hope you will all like it.

There is a follow up already complete for this, please let me know what you all think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

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Evan Buckley Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) and Evan's baby is due any day now, therefore (Y/n) hangs around the station a lot so she isn't alone. But things take a bad turn when her ex finds her. And kidnaps her.

Enjoy.

(Merry Christmas!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey stranger."

A smile flooded (Y/n)'s face when she looked to the right and saw Bobby aiming her way.

"Hi Bobby,"

Part of her felt bad for turning up unannounced, at least, she hadn't been invited to the station. This was a busy, hectic place and (Y/n) always felt like she needed an invite to turn up here. Evan changed her mind. He practically begged her to come down to the station whenever she wanted, he said having a visit from her boosted him up and made his day even better. Especially when he was doing long shifts and he started to miss and yearn for her.

Bobby always told the team that family could always stop by and he was often telling (Y/n) she wouldn't be a burden or be in the way if she had to come by and see Evan for any reason.

"Buck said you'd be stopping by, how are you?" He saw the surprise light up her eyes and she stepped closer while she glanced around. The station seemed rather mellow today.

"Tired… and I was sort of conscripted to come over." (Y/n) rolled her lips together into a thin smile and glanced her eyes down.

Her hands moved to cradle her bump that was getting in the way of almost everything lately.

With her due date being next week, Evan was starting to get on edge. He didn't want her going into labour without him or while he was out on a call, and he dreaded the thought of (Y/n) being alone when it happened or something going wrong. The the last two weeks, Evan had been telling (Y/n) to stop by the station whenever she wanted, whether it was to have lunch with the team or to stay with them if she didn't feel great.

She had practically become part of the furniture and all the team loved it when she stopped by.

Bobby had agreed that with (Y/n) being so close to her due date and Evan still working, (Y/n) could stop at the station while he was on shift so she wasn't home alone.

"Well we'll all be glad you're here. Come get a drink and we'll find Buck." Bobby beckoned (Y/n) over to him and she gladly followed him towards the stairs. Her hand curled around his arm and she let him lead her up the stairs towards the kitchen.

(Y/n) loved the smile she saw on her husband's face when she and Bobby reached the top of the stairs and found Evan stood in the kitchen with Chimney.

He was leaning back against the counter, hips pushed out, one hand behind him gripping the counter while his other hand brought a mug of coffee to his blushing red lips that were quirked up into a bright smile. He chuckled into his mug and barely managed a mouthful before his eyes set on his captain and noticed who was stood with him.

"Hey, there are my girls." Evan set down his cup and pushed off the counter with a bounce in his step and a quirk of his brow when he noticed the blush that crept up (Y/n)'s neck and onto her cheeks at his remark. It was about time she turned up to see them, Evan had been missing her already.

When he reached her, Evan wrapped his arms around (Y/n)'s waist and instantly reeled her into his chest. His palms spread out over the small of her back, allowing his fingers to skim up and down her dress and he couldn't dampen his smile, even when he leaned down to kiss her. Just seeing (Y/n) brightened Evan's mood and made him feel elated.

He felt (Y/n)'s hands smooth up his arms and her fingers dug sweetly into his biceps. Evan rolled his lips together and nudged his nose against (Y/n)'s as he kept his forehead pressed against hers until (Y/n) leaned forward to bury her face in his shoulder.

"You okay?"

(Y/n) felt him whisper the words against the side of her head and she could feel his lips tickling her skin and his nose brushing against her hair.

"Yeah, we're doing fine." Her lips curved when she felt one of Evan's arms retract from her waist so his hand could cup the side of her stomach. The feeling of his thumb tracing across her bump over her dress made adrenaline pool in her stomach. And (Y/n) knew if they were at home and not here in front of friends, Evan would have lifted her dress to hold her bump properly.

"Good, that's what I wanna hear. Do you want a drink?" Turning to the side, Evan kept one arm around (Y/n)'s waist and moved towards the kitchen where Bobby was now pouring himself a drink. He felt (Y/n)'s arms circle around his middle rather tightly like she was trying to squeeze all the air out of him but it was strangely comforting.

(Y/n) nodded her head but when they reached the kitchen, her hands tightened in Evan's middle until her nails almost pierced through his shirt into his skin. She pushed her forehead into his chest and leaned her weight onto him when the baby started to move around.

"Babe?" Evan stopped walking and moved his hands to hold (Y/n)'s arms but she reached up and held his wrists with a deep breath and a smile.

"Just tense… God, your kid's heavy."

"Uh, the midwife said she's perfect, actually." Evan murmured the words against the top of her head with a smirk playing on his lips when (Y/n) rolled her eyes. They both knew he was taking that slightly out of context, the midwife had told them that their baby was the normal weight and size and that she was doing perfectly well. Of course, that was music to Evan's ears.

She changed direction and headed over to the table where Eddie and Hen were playing a round of cards. She felt better when she sat down and as expected, Evan followed her. His hand cupped her thigh as he crouched down beside her, staring up at her with that sugary sweet smile that always managed to melt (Y/n) in every possible way.

He shifted his other hand up to her stomach and a broad grin spread across his lips when he felt movement.

"She's happy today."

A burning sensation flooded through (Y/n)'s stomach and fluttered up her chest when Evan gently took her chin between his fingers and thumb and tilted her head down so she was level with him. She could see the love pooling in his eyes and the way his lips were dithering between a placid smile and a concerned look when he noticed the discomfort etched onto her face.

"I'm okay," She answered his silent question and reached down to hold his wrist as if making sure he wasn't about to move his hand away from her bump.

His lips formed back into the bright smile he wore earlier and he perched his chin down on (Y/n)'s thigh, squeezed her hip and carded his thumb across her stomach. Evan was always thrilled any time the baby moved and he was around to feel it. It was like he was witnessing a miracle and it always made (Y/n) smile to see that look in his eyes and have his hands roaming across her stomach with such wonder.

"Should we expect the new arrival soon?" A grin pulled on Eddie's lips as he looked over his hand of cards to glance across at the couple.

"Not today," (Y/n) shook her head and she smiled, murmuring her thanks when Bobby placed a drink down on the table next to her.

She was ready to have this baby, but it didn't feel like their girl would be making an appearance anytime soon. At least not today. She seemed settled and comfy, especially with Evan now muttering incoherent whispers to her that (Y/n) couldn't make out. She was always finding Evan whispering things to the baby now, ever since he read somewhere that babies could recognise voices while they were in the womb.

"Shame, I think someone's getting impatient." Hen smiled softly and pointed over towards Evan.

The team could all see that he was bouncing off the walls recently. Every phone call he got from (Y/n) made him jump and he seemed to hold his breath, waiting for her to tell him she was in labour, but it hadn't happened yet. They all knew Evan was anxious to have his baby girl in his arms by now.

"I-"

The smile on Evan's face dwindled and the words faded on his tongue when the alarm went off.

His smile turned into a grimace and he locked his jaw, shaking his head to himself. That noise was like a bad omen. When they were waiting around, bored, wishing for a call, all they got was nothing. And then they got days where they couldn't even get a drink before they were back out again.

It was like a twisted game and it was irritating. Evan didn't want to go yet, not when (Y/n) had only just got here, but it was out of his hands now. Knowing (Y/n) was going to be here when they got back made Evan feel a little better.

"You're staying here and waiting for us to get back, aren't you?" Evan pushed up to his feet but the look on his face and his hands on his hips told (Y/n) he wasn't really asking, he was telling.

He wanted her to stick around here so if she went into labour or she didn't feel well, someone would always be around. She was in the safest place by being here. And it meant Evan would see her for a bit longer if she stuck around until they came back from this call.

(Y/n) looked across at Bobby for confirmation that she was alright to hang around the station if the team went out. The smile on his face and the warm look in his eyes told (Y/n) she was more than welcome.

"You can stay here as long as you like, make yourself comfortable."

When the team all got up and made their way down the stairs to get ready, Evan stooped over and gently cupped (Y/n)'s chin in his hand so he could tilt her head up towards him. His grin was soft and his eyes were dilated and flooded with warmth.

"I'll be back soon."

He pressed a searing kiss to her lips while his thumb stroked her chin and across the side of her cheek. He felt (Y/n)'s fingers feather across his neck and she hummed against his lips, watching him finally tear away from her so he could go out on the call. But his mind would stick around here, he would constantly be thinking about his girls while he was out on this call; desperate to come back to them.

***

(Y/n) tilted her head back and slouched down a little on the sofa to try and ease the tension in her back. It felt like someone was jabbing a knife into each column of her spine; there was a horrid ache going down the centre of her back. It was probably due to how she had been sitting and sleeping recently, but there were very little positions in which (Y/n) could get comfy.

She moved her hands to run up and down her bump while she stared blankly at the tv. An old tv show was playing on repeat on one of the channels so (Y/n) had clicked on it because she wasn't watching, but she knew the rest of the 118 who were loitering about in the annex liked the background noise the same as (Y/n) did. And watching the news was always draining when every news reel was of some kind of accident or trauma these days.

The desire to take a nap was getting more and more infectious, but (Y/n) didn't want to sleep here. Not in front of or around people, especially when these were the people Evan worked with on a daily basis.

She hoped he would be back soon. She cast her eyes around the annex as if praying he would suddenly appear out of nowhere and sit next to her.

(Y/n) found herself getting lost in thought while she traced designs and scribblings against her bump with the pad of her finger. But she looked up to the left when a shadow cast over her and she noticed one of the team standing beside the sofa.

It was Alex. (Y/n) didn't know him very well, but she knew him enough and she knew Evan had gone out for a drink once or twice with him in the last few months. He had a kind grin on his face and he pressed his hand on the back of the sofa to prop himself up.

"Hey Buckley, is your car the blue ford?"

"Yeah, why?" (Y/n) sat up straighter as her smile faded into a confused frown. She had driven down to the station earlier, despite how uncomfortable it was getting to drive now she was nine months pregnant. But it was preferable than walking all the way here, and (Y/n) certainly wasn't going to get the bus.

"The alarm's going off, want me to go lock it for you?"

"Oh, no I'll do it, thanks."

The warm smile stayed on Alex's face and he nodded his head at her before he turned and headed over to the pool table.

That was strange.

(Y/n)'s car wasn't tempermental, it wasn't the kind of car that would start beeping an alarm if someone walked past. Someone must have clipped her car when they left the car park or something had landed on it for the alarm to be going off. She highly doubted anyone would try and steal her car when it was parked at the back of the station in the car park reserved for the station team.

Moving her hands to the sofa, (Y/n) slowly pushed herself up to her feet and scoured her eyes around the station for her bag. Once she grabbed it, she made her way over to the stairs.

It was hard to try and move quickly when her body felt sluggish and weighed down, but she did her best to go fast once she was down the stairs. She turned to the left and headed past the locker room, down the corridor and out the side door into the car park.

Her eyes set on her car and she fished her keys out her pocket. Sure enough, it was (Y/n)'s car that was blaring out a deafening alarm (Y/n) was surprised she didn't hear up in the annex. Her car headlights were flashing in tandem with the horn and the noise made her grit her teeth.

God, she hoped no one had clipped her car; the last thing she needed was a dint or a scratch on her car or God forbid a mirror or her bumper hanging off. She would have to sweet talk Evan into fixing her car when he got back if anything was wrong.

When the alarm was turned off, (Y/n) stepped closer to inspect her car. Hopefully someone had just bumped into it on their way out and there was no lasting damage.

There didn't look like there was any marks, scratches or dents in her car and that made (Y/n) sigh.

But her relief was short-lived.

A hand clamped down around her mouth and an arm suddenly deadlocked around her waist. She could feel short nails scratching into her abdomen like they were trying to tear at her dress and her back crashed into a slender chest.

The keys in her hand clashed to the floor and her bag slid from her shoulder in panic as she waved her arms in desperation. Reaching her hands up, she tried to claw at the hand across her mouth and she let out whatever muffled scream she could manage. Her sense of balance became distorted when she was dragged backwards.

With another scream, (Y/n) closed her eyes in preparation and tried to thrust her head back as quickly as she could manage to headbutt whoever was trying to grab at her.

A violent yell errupted from the person behind her and the hand left her mouth in favour of cradling their nose which (Y/n) hoped she had broken.

She could see stars dancing in front of her eyes and her head swayed from left to right, causing her feet to stumble beneath her. She wasn't sure she would be able to keep herself upright, but the arm bound around her middle seemed to deadlock like a metal bar and before (Y/n) could try and stumble forwards, a cloth was forcefully rammed against her mouth.

She could taste the starched fabric and her teeth ached when the person's fingers pressed against her mouth so harshly that her upper lip cut against her tooth.

It was hard to remember what Evan had told her to do in panicked situations like this. (Y/n) tried to hold her breath, she knew she shouldn't- couldn't, breathe in whatever the cloth was soaked in, but she couldn't help it.

Her chest was aching, her lungs were desperate to circulate oxygen around her body and the baby was kicking and wriggling with bursts of adrenaline. Holding her breath wasn't an option (Y/n) had right now and she had no choice but to gasp and cough, breathing through the cloth that made her feel asthmatic with how little air she actually managed to breathe.

Both her hands reached up for the person's wrist and she dug her nails in until she could feel them pushing through a layer of skin, but it didn't help. (Y/n) was still dragged backwards, away from her car, away from the station door and she knew she was being pulled towards one of the cars parked up here.

"Don't play up!"

That sneering voice and the crude tone that was whispered in her ear made (Y/n) tense up.

Her shoulders pulled up towards her neck, her body began to shake and her legs felt like they were made out of clay that was starting to harden.

Tears burned in her eyes and she screamed as much as she could into the cloth and she writhed her body from left to right. Praying that the fire truck would roll into the station and someone would hear the commotion. Or that Evan would come out here and find her. She wanted Evan. She needed him.

He promised he would keep her safe and there was no other situation that (Y/n) needed him more than she did right now.

She knew who had hold of her.

Her heels scraped against the concrete and her head thrust back into his shoulder, but it didn't help. Her body was already starting to become sluggish and the sound of a car door opening didn't give (Y/n) enough adrenaline to fight whatever drugs she was forced to inhale.

Her body went limp when she was roughly forced into the passenger seat of a dark car and her head lolled against the driver's seat while her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

It was her ex-husband.

***

A horrible thumping like a repeating clunk of a hammer ignited in the back of (Y/n)'s head and caused a groan to tumble past her lips.

Her forehead felt cold. It was a struggle to open her eyes, so (Y/n) tried to focus on her other senses and see if she could get her body moving. Her temple was pressing against something smooth but frozen cold. Her hands were numb and bent at odd angles on her lap. Her chest felt tight. Her back was flooded with crippling nerves and sharp flickers of pain and there was a dull tightening feeling in her abdomen.

The only part of her body that didn't seem to be in agony was her legs. They weren't cramped her bent at strange angles and they weren't littered with bruises like the rest of her body seemed to feel.

When her eyes finally started to open and her vision cleared up, bolts of lightning struck her heart and sent waves of adrenaline sparking through her stomach.

She was leaning against a window. Scenery was passing by in a flash and (Y/n) realised the light vibration she could sense was the car heading down a seemingly deserted back road.

It took a lot of effort to push her head off the window and her temple was horribly numb; she must have been leaning on the window for a long time to make her forehead go cold like that. Her head lolled back against the headrest and she took a moment to take a few deep breaths, but it only ignited the tension that seemed to radiate in every crevace of her body.

She didn't want to look. Her head turned to the left, but (Y/n) really didn't want to look and prove her memory right. She didn't want to see who was driving the car she didn't recognise but when she looked, she felt an overwhelming urge to cry.

Caleb.

It was her ex-husband. The one she had sucessfully managed to avoid for over a year now.

This was the man (Y/n) had nightmares about, the one who frightened her, threatened her and physically hurt her when they had been together. This was the person she had to get a restraining order against. The man that had broken her wrist, three of her ribs and who made her need six stitches in her forearm when she fended him off and the knife he came at her with.

Compared to Evan, Caleb was like the devil reincarnated. (Y/n) felt like she had won the lottery when she got with Evan and marrying him had been the best part of her life. (Y/n) thought she was finished with this chapter of her life, with the torment, the abuse and fear Caleb inflicted.

He looked so stoic and calm right now.

Driving with one hand on the wheel, his left elbow resting on the door and his chin leaning on his hand. It made him look casual, as if they were old friends going on a road trip instead of ex-partners who shouldn't be within one hundred feet of one another.

"Caleb?" She wasn't sure what she wanted to say or what kind of conversation she was trying to strike up, but (Y/n) needed answers.

She needed to know what he thought he was doing and what his plan seemed to be. What good would kidnapping her do? It wasn't as if he could just take (Y/n) and hold her hostage. She wasn't an ornament or a pet or a piece of property, she was a person and she was never going to go along with this.

And Caleb couldn't kidnap her and think that (Y/n) would go along with him if he tried to make her play the happy wife again. She was re-married. She was pregnant with someone else's child. What was he planning to do by kidnapping her like this?

"About time you woke up." He spared a glance in her direction and the half-smile that quirked on his lips made (Y/n) shrink down in her seat.

When he looked back to the road, (Y/n) carefully moved her hands, trying to be slow so he wouldn't notice or see what she was doing. She cupped her stomach and tried to run her right hand along the side of her bump. Everything hurt, but (Y/n) didn't know how long she had been unconscious.

She had no idea if Caleb had hurt her by shoving her into the car or if he had intentionally or unintentionally hurt the baby when he took her. (Y/n) needed the baby to move, to kick or wriggle or just made some light movement so she knew her daughter was okay.

She tried to look around, but she had no idea what road they were on, what direction they were going in or where Caleb was trying to take her. Everything was uncertain.

She didn't have her phone. Her phone was in her bag, which she had dropped in the station car park. Maybe Caleb grabbed it and threw it somewhere in the car. Hopefully he left it. If it was still there on the floor, along with (Y/n)'s car keys, then Evan would undoubtedly find it. He would realise something bad had happened and he might be able to get to her or find her somehow.

"W-why're you doing this?"

Asking the question was almost as terrifying as hearing the answer. (Y/n) was used to not questioning him, she always tried to walk away, never argue, let him rant and rave if he wanted. And when he hurt her she tried to find a safe place, because fighting back didn't work.

But she had to ask now because she couldn't just sit and wait to find out what he was going to do and his reasons. If Caleb took her, he had to be prepared for some backlash, for (Y/n) to fight and question him and tell him how stupid and wrong he was being.

The way he glanced over at her made him look like a different person. His pupils were so small they looked like flecks of paint compared to the sage green of his eyes that looked more vile than ever. And the way Caleb snapped his head to the right to look at her made his hair fan across his temple and bounce in waves.

"You divorced me. You shacked up with that new guy, and now you're having his kid. You never wanted kids when we were together."

A twinge tore through (Y/n)'s stomach and she pressed her hands deeper into her bump while she dropped her head.

She never wanted kids with Caleb, there was a difference.

(Y/n) never said she didn't want children, not to anyone. They had always been part of her future, always something she wanted at some point in her life. And when she first got with Caleb, she thought they might have a family together. (Y/n) had a few doubts when she married him, but she went ahead with the wedding and told herself things would be okay.

When he lashed out at her, (Y/n) knew that was it. She knew she couldn't stay with him, that Caleb wasn't the right person to be with, and (Y/n) knew she could never have a child with him. That would tie her to him forever, it would bind them and she didn't want that. Someone as cruel and controlling as Caleb shouldn't have children.

But the moment (Y/n) got into a relationship with Evan, she knew it was okay. They both wanted kids and Evan was the ideal person to have a family with, he was sweet and funny and considerate and as loving as they got. And he adored kids. (Y/n) couldn't think of anyone else she would want to have a family with.

"I'm your husband-"

"No you're not. He is."

Somehow, it didn't feel safe to say Evan's name. She didn't want to hear her husband's name passing Caleb's lips, the thought was horrifying. Caleb was like an infection and (Y/n) needed to keep her husband as far away from him as possible, even the notion of him.

The way Caleb slammed his fist down on the steering wheel made the car jutter to the right and (Y/n) winced. She coiled in on herself, shrinking down in her seat as tears began to trace down the bridge of her nose. But the shock made the baby wriggle, and a small tendril of relief crept into (Y/n)'s aching system. At least the baby was moving; she was okay.

"Why would you fucking marry him? Why?" His tone made it seem like (Y/n) had gone and done something ludacris. As if she had married Evan after knowing him for only one day.

What right did Caleb have to judge or start asking those kind of questions? They were divorced, Caleb had eventually signed the agreement and finally severed himself from (Y/n). She was free to do whatever she liked with her life, to be with whoever she chose and that meant she could marry someone if she wanted. It had nothing to do with him.

"Why would I say no?" She countered with a shot of boldness in her veins and she glared over at him through narrowed eyes.

(Y/n) had been the happiest she had ever been in her life when Evan asked her to marry him. He was the best thing that had happened to her and there wasn't a single reason for (Y/n) to say no when he asked her. He was everything (Y/n) wanted; everything Caleb wasn't.

And (Y/n) had been four months pregnant when they got married. She had a tiny bump for the ceremony and Evan could barely keep his hands off her or her stomach the whole day.

"So that's it? You dump me, find the first guy you can and have his kid. How does that make any sense?"

"I love him." It didn't have to make sense to anyone else but her and Evan. They met, they fell in love and now they were having a baby together. That was the way it worked for most people, (Y/n) was no different simply because it didn't happen with the first person she married.

(Y/n) didn't like the way Caleb grunted and started to tap his fingers against the steering wheel in agitation. It made her feel like she was waiting for something, like she was expecting Caleb to fly off the handle at any moment. She wanted to reach out and hold onto the door handle in case he suddenly veered off the road and tried to crash or in case he sped up to see how far he could go before he either got caught or (Y/n) tried to intervene.

Her hands continued to trace her stomach that was more uncomfortable than ever while and she took to glancing out the window again. Maybe if she could spot a sign she could work out where they were or remember some kind of landmark or one of the junctions they might come up to. Just in case she managed to get away from Caleb at any point.

She had to. (Y/n) had to do whatever she could to get away from him. She had to keep her daughter safe. She wouldn't let him hurt her.

"Maybe that's not enough. I loved you, but you left me, so why should he get to have you?"

Those words were enough to spark a fire in (Y/n)'s stomach and her head snapped back to glare up at Caleb with wide eyes and parted lips. What was that supposed to mean? What was he going to do? How could his brain work in that twisted capacity and think that Evan couldn't love or be with (Y/n) just because she left Caleb a few years ago?

"Where are we going?" Her tone was more defined than earlier but she still sounded timid and afraid.

"You know we could have made things work, if you didn't get yourself pregnant-"

"Caleb I want his baby, I'm sorry you can't accept that. Where are you trying to take me?" She pushed up in her seat, despite the ache it caused in her back, and twisted to face him.

(Y/n)'s mind started to scream, coming up with millions of scenarios on how this would play out and where exactly he was trying to take her. She had no idea what he wanted. For all (Y/n) knew, Caleb could be doing this to wind up and frighten Evan, he could have kept her phone and was intending to call Evan and tell him who (Y/n) was with and that she was in danger.

He could intend to take (Y/n) somewhere and hold her hostage in some sick, twisted way of trying to get back into a relationship with her.

Or he could be planning to hurt her.

"Who said I'm taking you anywhere? You know, I watched you for a while, trying to find the best time to talk to you. But when I saw that," The way he pointed at her bump with a look of disgust made (Y/n)'s skin crawl. "I changed my mind. Since you abandoned me, I think it's time you did the same to him, so he knows what it feels like."

Panic was the only thing (Y/n) could feel and comprehend.

He had been watching her. Caleb had found her before today, he had been following her around and the notion made bile rise in the back of her throat. If she weren't pregnant (Y/n) got the impression he would of tried to make her stay with him, to delude her into another relationship with him. It seemed both a relief and a condemnation that she was pregnant.

At least Caleb wouldn't try and force her to be with him again, but being pregnant only cemented the fact that she was moving on from him, and he clearly wasn't going to let her do that. He might not have tried to hurt her- at least not badly- if she weren't pregnant. Now he wanted to hurt her, he wanted her to feel the betrayal he had no reasoning to feel and he wanted to hurt Evan for being with (Y/n).

If he had been watching them then Caleb would of seen that (Y/n) was everything to Evan. Her being hurt in any way would crush him and (Y/n) didn't dare think what Evan would do or how he would feel if something happened to their baby girl.

Short, panicked breaths tumbled past (Y/n)'s lips as she turned her head to look out the window. She didn't want to give Caleb the satisfaction of seeing her go into a panic attack.

It felt like stones were piling up in her lungs that weren't inflating anymore, they were just useless, heavy ornaments clogging up until (Y/n) was practically gasping for air. She wanted to go home. She wanted to go back to the station and be safe and happy surrounded by friends and people who wouldn't hurt her. People the opposite of Caleb.

She wanted to be back with Evan. Tears trickled down her face at the thought of her husband and she began to circle her wedding ring around her finger, seeing if focusing on the symbolic ring would calm her down in the slightest. It didn't work. All it did was make her think of Evan and how panicked this situation was going to make him once he found out. And (Y/n) wanted him, she wanted him to help her, to save her, protect her. To make everything okay.

Her vision blurred with the amount of tears she was shedding, but (Y/n) suddenly pressed her hand into her abdomen and held her breath when it felt like the tightening sensation in her stomach suddenly changed. It felt like a coil within her had snapped.

The sensation made her shoulders hunch and had her creasing forward, trying her best not to move and draw Caleb's attention to her.

When her eyes darted down, she could feel more tears running down her face and she held her breath to stop herself from screaming.

Her water broke.

The whole reason she had been at the station in the first place; so she wouldn't be on her own when she was so close to her due date. If she had stayed inside, if she let Alex turn the alarm off on her car, this wouldn't of happened. If she just stayed inside where she was safe.

Her water probably wouldn't have broken today if Caleb hadn't of snatched her and fought with her like he did. If he didn't frighten her and manhandle her into the car and panic her like this then (Y/n) wouldn't be in this situation.

Evan was supposed to be with her when her waters broke. He was supposed to be with her from the beginning and coach her through this experience. (Y/n) didn't want to be doing this alone. She didn't want to go through this without Evan. She needed him.

Clenching her legs together, (Y/n) moved the hem of her dress a bit further down her knees before she pressed her hand against her mouth to stop herself from crying. While her other hand stayed on her stomach like she was warning the baby not to squirm or give her any pains just yet.

She didn't want Caleb to notice. If he knew she was in labour he might do something rash. He might try and change his mind again and make (Y/n) stay with him. He could use this against Evan, he could torment Evan with this and hurt (Y/n). She wouldn't be able to get away from him once labour was in full swing and it would give Caleb much more opportunity to try and hurt her and the baby.

A bolt of panic surged through (Y/n)'s heart when Caleb suddenly took a sharp left turn. She hadn't noticed any signs. She had been too preoccupied in her thoughts to look for signs or landmarks.

She could feel herself beginning to shake when he drove down a small, rather bumpy road. But the way he leaned forward into the wheel and glanced around made (Y/n)'s fear multiply.

He didn't know where they were.

He hadn't driven with a set goal in mind, he had just been driving to get (Y/n) as far away from home, from Evan, as possible. He was trying to find somewhere deserted and from the looks of it, he had found just the right spot. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

(Y/n) moved her hand to press against the door to steady herself when Caleb drove down a narrow road filled with pot holes and broken concrete and gravel. He was slowing down. She debated whether it was worth trying to open the door, but throwing herself out of a moving car, even one going as slow as this, was going to have repercussions.

She could injure herself and not be fit enough to run away. Caleb could reverse and hit her. He could get out and throw her in the trunk or attack her out here in the open. Waiting for his next move was going to be her best bet.

When he pulled up and turned off the engine, (Y/n) slowly moved her right hand to reach for the door handle while she leaned forward and kept her eyes on Caleb. He grabbed the keys and tucked them into his pocket, presumably so (Y/n) couldn't take them in a desperate attempt to flee.

She wondered what he was looking for when he rummaged around in his door pocket, but when he turned to face her, brandishing a kitchen knife, her blood ran cold.

He looked crazed, like a man possessed and he pointed the knife so close to her that the end was practically touching her chest.

"Get out, no sudden moves."

(Y/n) found herself nodding even though she didn't need to. She wasn't making a break for it in her state and there wasn't anywhere she could go. Part of her wished Caleb would have gotten out the car first. She could have turned on the indoor locks and stayed safe in the car with him on the outside if he got out first.

She opened the door and slowly climbed out, noticing Caleb getting out at the same time to make sure she didn't run off. And she was relieved he hadn't noticed her waters had broken. She couldn't let him find that out.

She leaned her weight against the bonnet of the car, her wide eyes following Caleb as he moved to stand in front of her.

He was still sneering down at her stomach like he thought the baby was some kind of burden, like they had ruined everything. The distaste in his eyes made (Y/n) wrap an arm protectively around her bump and she leaned back but it didn't do her any good.

Caleb's free hand suddenly knitted into her hair and he yanked her closer causing a yelp to fly past her lips.

She struggled, pulling back until the knife was pressed beneath her chin causing her to tip her head back to relieve the pressure and prevent the knife from plunging into her throat.

"Don't like that, huh?" He sneered, leaning close enough that (Y/n) could feel his breath fanning against her cheek. "Let's make that new hubby of yours feel the way I did when you left me. He can lose both of you."

A sob bubbled past (Y/n)'s lips and she tried again to lean away from him, but he simply knitted his hands tighter into her hair and pulled. The action caused the jagged edge of the knife to scrape against her throat. A flesh wound, barely enough to draw blood, but enough to bring back memories and make (Y/n) flinch and scream.

He'd come at her with a knife once before. When (Y/n) told him she was leaving and packed her bags. She had to pin her arms in front of her face in defence and he slashed the knife down her forearm enough to need stitches.

She didn't want anymore scars from him.

"No! You d-don't get to do this." (Y/n) raised her arms in defence and tried to bend his wrist back to get the knife away from her. She couldn't get any injuries; she couldn't risk her baby getting hurt.

When the knife aimed dangerously close to her stomach and Caleb yanked her hair to pull her head back, (Y/n) thrust her elbow up towards his face. She wanted to hit his nose, she had managed to catch his nose earlier and it would make his eyes water and momentarily phase him. But she clocked his chin instead. It was still a good movement, his head snapped back and he audibly choked and spluttered.

It gave (Y/n) the momentum she needed to bash her arm into his elbow and pull away from him. He yanked on her hair, but not enough to pull her back and she broke away from him, using the time to pelt away across the broken gravelly road as fast as she could.

The twinges in her abdomen were distant and dull compared to the pounding of her heart and the panic fuelling her whole body. She knew this wasn't going to do her or the baby any good, but she had to move as fast as possible and get away from him. She had to get somewhere safe.

"You can't outrun me, (Y/n)! Not in that state." His words were sinister and followed her like a shadow.

Her breaths started to become deep and panting as she willed her numb legs to go faster.

"He can't have you!"

She had to get away. That was the only thought playing on (Y/n)'s mind, that she had to keep her daughter safe by any means necessary. But when a horrible pain that she guessed was a contraction tore through her abdomen, (Y/n)'s steps faltered. She stopped herself from collapsing to her knees by creasing forward and pressing one hand to her stomach as she tried to keep moving.

The feeling of a blade slashing against her dress made (Y/n) scream and bow her head. She wasn't sure whether the knife managed to scratch through her dress and into her upper back, but she knew it had cut through the thin material of her dress right between her shoulder blades.

She wasn't sure what threat Caleb tried to shout at her, but she felt the knife stab into the back of her left forearm just above her elbow. The adrenaline coursing through (Y/n)'s veins made it impossible to tell whether the wound was deep or superficial, but (Y/n) knew she could feel blood trickling down her arm that she coiled into her chest as she cried out.

The wound was enough to slow down her already faltering pace and when Caleb's hand knitted in her hair, he used it as leverage to pull her back towards him. His chest pressed down into her back and their combined weight tumbled forward as both their legs bent and surged them down to the floor.

A loud, piercing scream left (Y/n)'s lips as she tried to fall on her side rather than her front, but it was hard to twist when Caleb was falling with her.

She crashed onto her left side, pinning her arm between her and the floor which sent spasms jolting through her injured arm, all the way down to her chest.

"No!" She wasn't sure what she was protesting or trying to splutter, but (Y/n) caged her arms over her stomach to protect the baby as Caleb moved.

The fall didn't seem to phase him at all for he pushed up onto his knees with horrible, grunting breaths and a heaving chest that made him look like he was about to transform into the Hulk right before her eyes. She did her best to sit up but the wind had been knocked out of her and left her gasping for breath and moving made her head spin and loll backwards.

She had to force her arms to stop trembling and stay deadlocked around her waist to try and help herself. She wasn't sure if that fall would have done something to hurt the baby. If the baby wasn't okay or something went wrong, (Y/n) wasn't in a very good situation for this. She was in the middle of nowhere with her crazed ex and no way of escaping or finding help. And being in labour made this situation a whole lot worse.

"He's not having you." Each word was panted and grunted as Caleb wiped his sleeve across his jaw that he clicked into place. And he seemed to delight in the way (Y/n) shivered when he pointed the knife at her stomach. "Either of you."

Caleb moved fast. He moved so fast that (Y/n) feared blinking and seeing him vanish before her eyes. He pushed forward and jolted down towards her and it was clear by the manic look in his eyes that were focused on her stomach that he wanted to hurt the baby.

Moving her arms and legs at the same time was a hard task but (Y/n) didn't know what else to do. She couldn't shuffle back, she couldn't find anything to hand to counter his attack and hit him with. All she could do was keep her arms in front of her bump and reel her knees up.

Being stabbed in the legs or arms was much more preferable than the stomach.

The knife sliced horizontally across her right knee and there was enough pain there for (Y/n) to know that it was more than just superficial. The pain blistered like she had knelt on hot coals but it was hard to focus on that pain when the tightening contractions in her stomach were worse.

A slurr of curse words rambled past Caleb's lips as (Y/n) lifted her leg and rammed her foot into his crotch fast and harsh enough to make her toes curl and her foot go numb with shock.

(Y/n) pushed forward and screamed, forcing her arms out in front of her to thrust Caleb away from her. She couldn't sit and let him slice her to pieces and hack away at her. She had to move.

But as Caleb surged forward and (Y/n) smacked her arms out at him again, their gazes interlocked and both of them seemed to gasp in horror. Panic reflected on both their faces, their expressions mirrored and stricken but it was Caleb's jaw that went slack while (Y/n)'s lips wobbled and tears began to trickle down her face again.

Her body started to shake as she shuffled backwards on her bum, scraping her shoes into the floor to get away from Caleb.

The only place (Y/n) could look was down at Caleb's hands that were shakily pinning against his stomach.

She didn't mean to.

It was an accident. It was either her or him, and she couldn't let him hurt her baby.

Tears continued to stream down (Y/n)'s face and she went to press her hand to her mouth but stopped when her eyes caught on the specks of blood coating her palm. She had thrust her hands at Caleb and accidentally thrust the knife into his stomach.

But wasn't that exactly what Caleb had been trying to do to her? If she didn't hurt and subdue him first, it would be the knife in her own stomach and her daughter's life lost. He wouldn't stop until he killed them both and (Y/n) had to do something. She didn't have a choice; Caleb made sure of that.

Gasps and strangled sounds left Caleb's lips as he hunched over until his chest was creased towards his knees like he was praying to any God that would listen to his pathetic pleas.

Spit bubbled past his lips and his face started to turn an ungodly shade of red as the veins in his neck started to pop out and become prominent. He didn't dare move his hands away from his stomach where he was cradling the knife that was imbedded into his skin up to the handle. They both knew if he tried to remove it he would bleed out. He was cradling it so (Y/n) didn't try and take it out.

She wanted to. She wanted to crawl over there and yank that knife out as slowly as possible and watch him bleed out like a spilled pitcher of milk. But (Y/n) couldn't do that. It wasn't in her nature to be cruel, not in the way it was in Caleb's own nature, and she would undoubtedly get reprimanded for that.

When Caleb looked up at her, all (Y/n) could see was pure evil pooling in those dark eyes that were blown wide like he was having a stroke.

(Y/n) wasn't sure where the courage came from, but she started to crawl towards him. He was subdued, he wasn't going to lunge at her when he could barely lean up on his thighs and Caleb wasn't going to remove the knife to weaponize it again when he knew he would bleed out.

It was safe to approach. And it was clear in Caleb's tortured, twisted expression that he didn't know her intentions. He had no idea why she was getting closer to him or what she was going to do.

(Y/n) couldn't stop the silent sobs from wracking her chest and her body shook as she knelt in front of Caleb.

One bloodied hand reached out and clamped down on her upper arm and (Y/n) winced, coiling in on herself as she tried to ignore the touch. It wouldn't be there for long. Her eyes stayed on Caleb, keeping his attention on her face and she leaned closer like she was about to sneer something horrid in his face.

He didn't see her right hand slither out beside them to grab a loose slab of concrete from the gravel road they had been running on.

He didn't see it when (Y/n) thrust the lump of concrete down on his head so hard and fast that the noise sounded like a bullet whipping through the air.

A tremendous amount of blood pooled beneath Caleb's hair and trickled down the side of his head, slithering down his neck like a tap had been turned on full. His body slumped to the left and he hit the gravel with a thud, his head bent back oddly and his arms bent inwards with his hands loosely cradling his stomach.

The concrete dropped from (Y/n)'s hand and clashed against Caleb's thigh and a horrible trembling set in (Y/n)'s bones until she was sobbing and rattling back and forth.

He couldn't follow her now. He couldn't get her if she left now and left him behind in the dirt. But she couldn't drive. (Y/n) didn't know where his keys were, she was sure he had tossed them somewhere and she couldn't drive while she was in labour and undoubtedly lost.

Her trembling hands traced over Caleb's thighs and she grimaced as she dug her hand into his back pocket and fished out his phone.

She had to call for help.

Once the phone was in her hand, (Y/n) took a second to stare down at him. He finally looked peaceful. He finally looked calm and serene, even with blood pouring down the side of his face and turning his white shirt into a blood bath of crimson.

"I hate you." The words sneered past her lips along with a bubbling cry. "I hope you die."

As if fearing he would suddenly rise up and lunge, (Y/n) inched backwards as soon as the words left her lips.

Caleb had no right to do what he did to her, at any point in their past relationship or right now. He didn't have the right to try and hurt her, to protest when she left him and try to harm her into getting back together with him. He didn't have a right to stalk her and watch her and then decide he was going to kidnap her out of spite because (Y/n) had moved on with her life.

(Y/n) had no idea if his wound was fatal or how long he would last out here, unconscious, with a knife in his stomach. And she didn't know whether anyone still used this discreet road or if anyone would find him today. No one might come down here. They might not find him until days later if (Y/n) didn't alert anyone that her tormenter was laid here unconscious.

She hoped he wouldn't wake up. He could stay here and bleed out until help eventually came to find him. He didn't deserve a speedy rescue.

One hand pressed down into the gravel to push herself up and the other cradled her stomach that was feeling heavier by the minute. Every part of her body ached when she limped away from Caleb's unconscious body. She tried to aim in the opposite direction to the car, she had to try and get as far away from Caleb as possible and back track down this road to find help.

She needed somewhere safe to be until she could get someone to help her, to find her. Being here in the middle of nowhere on the road wasn't likely to help (Y/n) much, especially not if Caleb woke up soon.

Blood was still trickling down her left arm. Her right knee was aching and pulsing with each step she took and she had to stop to gasp for breath when a horrid contraction felt like her stomach was set on fire. God, she hoped the baby was okay. She hoped Evan would be able to get to her soon. She prayed everything would turn out okay.

Once she deemed herself far enough away from Caleb, (Y/n) slumped down to her knees on the side of the road. She doubled forward, curving her right arm around her waist to cradle her aching stomach while she tried to look through Caleb's phone.

She didn't bother trying to remember or guess his password, she clicked on the emergency button and dialled the only safe number she could in this situation.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"I- I need Maddie Buckley, please." The air of desperation in (Y/n)'s voice and the sob at the end of her words must have made the dispatcher feel sorry for her because she heard the woman gasp and agree instantly.

(Y/n) needed her sister in law. She had to have someone she knew and trusted on the other end of the line. Someone who could and instantly would contact Evan once (Y/n) explained what was going on.

"Hello, this is Maddie?" There was apprehension in her voice. It wasn't often that people rang the help line and asked to speak to a specific dispatcher, much less to speak to Maddie herself. She couldn't think of a time when someone had asked for her or refused to speak to anyone except her.

"Maddie! P… please, help me."

"(Y/n)? What's wrong, where are you honey?"

Where was she? Looking around didn't give (Y/n) much indication, there were no road signs or street names. No houses with names or numbers on them. No passing cars or the distant sound of a motorway nearby. There was nothing except the crackling 911 line (Y/n) was dialling out to.

"I d- I don't know." Her voice came out in a broken wail and she could feel her heartbeat increasing, pulsing blood throughout her system in panic. She had no idea where she was.

"What's happened?"

Maddie was her only link to the rest of the world. The thought made her sob harder and she bound her arm around her waist, creasing forward until her bump was pressing down into her thighs. Her eyes snapped closed but all she could think and see behind her eyes was Evan.

Why wasn't he here? Why did she go out the station and into the car park? Why couldn't someone have heard her scream or noticed the struggle and stopped Caleb before he took her? Why was she all alone?

"I'm in labour… t-the baby's coming."

#evan buckley x reader #evan buckley #911 imagine #imagine #pregnant! reader #evan buckley imagine #buck x reader #buck imagine #bobby nash #eddie diaz #hen wilson #he can't have you

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lechrts · 1 day ago

Text

Stay Unspoken. ✷ Lando Norris

Pairing: Lando Norris x Bestfriend!reader

Summary: A confession that was too late.

Word Count: 1.3k

Disclaimer/s: Angst……

Vera’s Voice! okay so basically i…. Ueah i got nothing. Jusr. Just read and I hope u enjoy ^_^_^

The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of voices filtering through the walls. You stood by the tall windows, the train of your dress fanned out behind you, catching the soft afternoon light.

Lando’s eyes were drawn to you, as they always were, as they always had been.

"You’re late," You said without turning, your voice light, teasing, familiar in a way that made his chest ache.

"Wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t," He replied, his tone forced casual as he stepped inside.

You turned then, a small smile tugging at your lips, but he didn’t miss the nerves dancing in your eyes. It hit him all at once—the vision of you in white, the way your veil framed your face, just the sheer weight of the day.

“Just couldn’t find my way through all the wedding madness,” He continued, forcing a chuckle, but it came out flat, unconvincing.

Your lips twitched into a small smile. “I thought you’d be used to the venue by now.”

He shrugged, stepping further into the room. “Ehh.. ish.”

You tilted your head, studying him with a familiarity that had always been both comforting and disarming. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just… big day, right?”

“For both of us,” you said softly, stepping closer to him. “I mean, you’re practically family. And you’ve been with me through everything, Lando.” Your voice dipped slightly, more serious now. “I wouldn’t have made it here without you.”

He felt his chest constrict at your words, but he forced a smile anyway. “Guess that’s what best friends are for.”

You hesitated, catching the shift in his tone. Your eyes narrowed slightly, not with suspicion, but with that quiet concern he’d come to both love and fear. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly. Too quickly. “I’m fine.”

“Lando…” Your voice was softer now, more coaxing. You reached out, your fingers brushing his arm. “Talk to me.”

He swallowed hard, the familiar weight of your touch making it harder to keep everything bottled up.

“It’s nothing,” He said again, but the crack in his voice betrayed him. He turned away, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just… It’s a lot, you know? Seeing you like this.”

You frowned, stepping closer again. “What do you mean?”

He shook his head, trying to laugh it off, but it came out hollow. “You look beautiful. Like, stupidly beautiful. It’s just… weird.”

“Weird how?” You pressed, your brows knitting together. “Do I look bad??”

“Oh, no!! No, no, no.” He shook his head quickly. “You look amazing.” He hesitated, weighing the words in his mouth, the ones that wanted so desperately to come out. But he couldn’t. Not now. Not today.

“It’s just..” A breath came out shakily.

“You’re marrying him,” He said finally, his voice quieter now, like he was saying it more to himself than to you.

“It’s… a lot to take in.”

Your breath caught, confusion flickering across your face. “Huh?”

He continued, his voice steady but filled with an unmistakable ache. “For years, I convinced myself that being your friend was enough. That it was better than losing you. And maybe I was okay with that—until today.”

You shook your head, stepping back slightly, a sense of panic creeping in. “Lando…” You started slowly, and fearfully. “You’ve known about this for months. You’ve been nothing but supportive. What’s changed?”

He let out a sharp breath, his shoulders tense. “Nothing’s changed,” He said, his voice sharper than he intended.

Then, softer, almost trembling:

“Yet, everything’s changed.”

You stepped back, your arms crossing as if to shield yourself from whatever was about to come next.

“What are you trying to say?”

He looked at you then, his eyes searching yours, as if hoping you’d already know so he wouldn’t have to say it. But the words came anyway, slow and deliberate, like they’d been clawing their way out of him for years.

“I…” He paused, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. “I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”

Your breath hitched, and the room suddenly felt unbearably small.

“Wha—“ You whispered, your voice barely audible.

“I tried to ignore it,” he continued, his voice quieter now, almost defeated. “But seeing you like this, knowing what’s about to happen—it’s killing me.”

Your frown deepened, confusion mixing with disbelief. “And you decided to tell me now? Today? Do you have any idea how unfair that is?”

“I didn’t want to,” he said quickly, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I didn’t plan this. But seeing you like this, knowing that everything changes after today.. it’s too much.”

You shook your head, taking another step back, your hands trembling. “Lando, you had years to say something. Years! And you wait until now, on the day I’m supposed to marry someone else, to tell me this? Do you realize how selfish that is?!”

“I know,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I know it’s selfish. But I couldn’t keep it in anymore. Not today.”

You stared at him, chest rising and falling rapidly. “Do you think this changes anything?”

“No,” He said quickly. “I know it doesn’t. I know you love him. I know you’re marrying him. But I couldn’t stand here, watching you take this step, and not tell you the truth. You deserve to know.”

You let out a shaky laugh, but it was bitter, filled with frustration. “The truth? What am I supposed to do with this truth, Lando? You think it’s going to make me feel better? Make you feel better?”

“I don’t know,” He admitted, his voice quieter now, almost defeated. “I just… I needed you to know. That’s it. I’m not asking for anything.”

You turned away from him, your hands gripping the edge of the windowsill as you tried to steady yourself. The silence between you stretched on, suffocating.

“Leave,” You said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated, his feet rooted to the spot. “I’m sorry,” he said, the words hollow, meaningless.

“Just… go,” You said again, your voice cracking.

He lingered for a moment longer, his heart breaking as he watched you turn away, shoulders trembling.

But he knew there was nothing left to say, nothing he could do to fix the damage he’d just caused.

Without another word, he turned and walked out, closing the door softly behind him. And as he stepped into the chaos of the wedding preparations outside, he realized that some truths weren’t meant to set you free.

Some were meant to shatter everything you thought you could hold onto.

Lando Norris was your best friend. And maybe, in another life, he could have been more.

But in this one, he would be the boy who should’ve stayed unspoken.

Well.

likes, comments, & reblogs appreciated!!! ^_^ follow me for more & ask if you’d like to be apart of my tag list!!!!

tags! @planetpedri @halfwayhearted @wdcbox @freyathehuntress

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always-just-red · 22 hours ago

Text

Merry Christmas, guys!!! Ok, so this is a day early, but I wanted to say thanks to you all with a feel-good follow-up to my Game Night fic! So, here: a Christmas Eve sleepover with the boys, and they’re on their VERY best behaviour this time, I promise 😌

The Night Before Christmas

L&DS Boys X Reader

(Recommended to read this fic first, if you haven't already!)

Summary: It’s time to get the gang back together!!!

Genre: Fluff + humour

Warnings/Additional Tags: gn!reader, kinda poly? but mostly platonic, a lil bit of wholesome intimacy, one particularly suggestive joke from Sylus (he can’t help himself), also probably needs another proofread but my eyes are tired 💀

| Word count: 4.8k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Right! Let’s try this again.”

You glance around your living room with your hands on your hips, channelling your inner Captain Jenna as you fight to suppress flashbacks that verge on traumatic.

Some of this is exactly the same as last time. Sylus is sprawled in the same spot on your couch, looking inordinately pleased with himself for someone who has only just arrived. The very image of smugness; you immediately suspect that something is horribly wrong, or on track to go horribly wrong. You glance to the other couch, where Xavier and Rafayel sit, equally braced for your presentation. Neither one has been teleported to the roof of your building.

Sylus is reading your relief, and he gives you an exclusive smile, as if to say: yet.

Try not to think about it.

You stand by a large drawing pad— currently flipped closed to create a suspense that only Xavier has bought into. He gives you an eager nod, the blue of his eyes warm and encouraging.

The faces around you haven’t changed, but your little apartment has. Strings of twinkling lights run around your walls, casting faint, festive glows. There’s frost on your windows. Littered everywhere are ornaments: small, glittery birds and wintery creatures. Lots of snowman plushies, courtesy of a few, dedicated arcade expeditions with your favourite doctor.

New season, new start.

“We all remember how this went last time,” you push on finally. “Mistakes were made. Shit happened. Whatever— we’re not gonna dwell on it.”

Sylus lifts his hand. “I, for one, would enjoy a reminder of said mistakes.”

“Motion denied,” you dismiss with a grin and a customer-service enthusiasm that screams: don’t fuck with me right now. Sylus’s eyes sparkle, like embers anxious to become something brighter— more destructive. Don’t think about it. “It wasn’t my fault. You outnumbered me four-to-one that night, which is why my first order of business today is to appoint a co-host.”

Rafayel’s hand shoots into the air. You look at him incredulously. Zayne is stood beside you, his arms folded, and everyone else in the room has connected those particular dots.

“It’s Zayne, Rafayel,” you sigh.

“What?!” He sits up straighter. “Why him?! What are his qualifications, huh? His credentials?”

“I’ve never set the kitchen on fire,” Zayne says.

The artist scoffs, adds under his breath: “Turned it into an ice rink, though.”

There’s a chuckle from Sylus, and a part of you feels bad, pitting Zayne against the others like this. But he’s not alone. He has you, just you, so you should probably do something. “That actually brings me really nicely to my next point, Raf, thank you.”

Unexpected praise. Rafayel stutters, a faint blush to his cheeks, and you take full advantage of having staggered him. “Zayne, do you wanna…?”

“Of course.” The dark-haired man adjusts his glasses, then addresses the rest of the room. “In the interest of everyone’s safety, we have devised a few rules to be adhered to for the rest of the evening. These will be enforced by a point system, which we will record… here.”

He flips the drawing pad open, and a blank table fills the top half of the page. Each quarter has been assigned a name. “Basically—” you gesture to it— “three strikes and you’re out.”

None of your guests look perturbed by this.

“The first rule is simple,” Zayne explains, pulling away a strip of paper from the bottom of the page, then reading the writing underneath: “No unauthorised use of Evols.”

Rafayel’s hand shoots up again. You tilt your head at it. “Yes, Raf?”

“Ok, so what if there’s a power-cut or something? Lights are out. Heating’s out. Big disaster, yeah? You’re saying I couldn’t—?” He clicks his fingers, spawning a small flame.

“We would use my Evol,” Xavier says with the gentle authority he uses to steer civilians away from a Wanderer incursion. “It’s safer.”

The flame is snuffed out. Rafayel huffs: “Don’t you use it to, like, kill things?”

“Yeah…” Xavier shrugs. “Bad things.”

“Second rule!” you chime.

“Second rule,” Zayne echoes, peeling back the next strip of paper. There’s absolutely no showmanship, nor energy at all as he continues, “No unauthorised sarcasm.”

Another hand raises. “What would be authorised sarcasm?” Xavier asks, squinting as though he can’t quite figure it out on his own.

You purse your lips in thought. “If it makes me laugh?”

Rafayel is stroking his chin, his eyes narrowed, because he’s also thinking. “High risk, high reward,” he muses, and you shoot him a smile.

This is going better than you thought it would, actually. If you were to turn a few more pages of the drawing pad, you would see crude illustrations of the worst-case scenarios you’d sketched out for Zayne earlier. There’s one where Rafayel is trying to strangle Sylus with Christmas lights. There’s another where Zayne has turned you all into snowmen.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, though. The evening is young, and the snowman scenario is still very much on the table.

Culprit of about ninety percent of your nightmarish visions and drawings— Sylus has been unnervingly silent. You meet eyes with him, an inherent mistrust in your gaze. The success of this sweet, humble Christmas Eve hinges on you figuring out what he’s here for. His agenda. His ulterior motives.

What does he want from tonight? He smirks at you. You’re vaguely competent, and you can figure it out without him holding your hand, can’t you?

That reminds you of something. “Zayne.” You jostle your co-host by his arm. “Do the last rule!”

You’re excited about the last rule.

Zayne isn’t; he hesitates. “The last rule…” He rubs at the back of his neck. “It’s… it’s only applicable to you, Sylus.”

Sylus is now also excited about the last rule. You can tell from the way his lips part, for a second, like he wants to tell you just how flattered he is you spend so much of your time thinking about him.

You put Zayne out of his misery, tearing the final strip of paper away from the pad. The paper flutters to the ground like a very plain snowflake, and you wiggle your fingers, adorning the final rule with a touch of pizazz:

No smirking, sass, or general smugness.

A corner of Sylus’s mouth lifts. “Believe it or not, kitten, your little point system doesn’t scare me.”

You pick up the pen and score a mark under his name.

“Oh no,” he mutters lifelessly.

“Sarcasm!” Rafayel coughs.

You’re well ahead of him, already turning to make another mark. “Gods,” you hear Sylus grimace, not much more than a whisper, “you’re such a boy scout.”

There’s a snort from Rafayel. “Sorry, say that again? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of you totally getting kicked out of here.”

“Sarcasm,” Sylus says.

“Wait, I didn’t mean— no!”

You giggle as you issue Rafayel’s first strike, and he groans behind you, slumping down in his seat. When you turn back around, his face is buried in his hands.

Sylus is smirking again, but the expression drops the moment he senses your gaze. You both know what’s at stake here. Back in the N109 Zone, Luke and Kieran are lamenting the fact that you’ve stolen their leader— it’s not very Christmassy of you, after all. There were a lot of things they wanted to do with him. Snowball fights, presents, and a heist that required disguises: Santa and his two, hard-working elves. They already have the suit, custom-made for him.

So here is the big, bad boss of Onychinus, hiding in your apartment, and definitely not smirking.

You pop the lid back onto your pen, then post it into your pocket like you’re holstering an all-powerful weapon. That’s one point to you and Zayne, and zero points to Sylus, thank you very much.

…

“What are you doing?”

Sylus sighs, evading a furious lilac gaze while he focuses on the task at hand. Freshly escaped from you and the doctor’s terrifying lecture, he’s making the most of his liberty.

“What I am doing,” he mumbles, tying string around a sprig of mistletoe, “is between me and our charming host. Run along, little artist.” He tightens the knot. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Rafayel crosses his arms, his eyes dark. “You’re cheating.”

“Ha.” Sylus spares him a glance out of pity. “You’re jealous.”

“Am not.”

He definitely is, but Sylus doesn’t have time for this game. He can hear you in your bedroom, rooting around for the phone charger you’d vanished in search of. Your door isn’t closed, but it’s closed enough. You can’t see him. He can’t see you. What a perfect opportunity.

“Give it to me,” Rafayel says— an interruption that warrants a roll of the eyes.

“No.”

“Give it—“ the artist starts again, then makes a grab for the mistletoe. Now that’s jealousy. He could incinerate the plant with a click of his fingers, but no, he wants it. Covets it.

Sylus chuckles quietly, his arm stretching up: holding the mistletoe out of an ever-more desperate reach.

To Rafayel’s credit, he persists. He goes up on his toes, tugging at the older man’s sleeve to try and drag the mistletoe closer. The plant evaporates in a swirl of dark energy the second he succeeds. It materialises behind Sylus’s back, in his other hand, and Rafayel realises instantly. He tries to stretch his arms around him. To take it from him.

“Absolutely not!”

Sylus’s fingers are suddenly empty. Mistletoe-less. He turns reluctantly, still holding Rafayel back.

You stand at your wide-open door, one hand on your hips and the other clutching his confiscated item. You’re frowning. Tapping your foot. Your lips are pursed adorably.

“What a coincidence, kitten,” Sylus smiles, and behind him, Rafayel pokes his tongue out, overcome with nausea. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Clearly.” You jostle the mistletoe, looking… disappointed? Huh. “Never thought I’d catch you indulging an old cliche.”

Sylus shrugs charmingly, like a cat performing a leisurely stretch after toppling a vase from a very high shelf.

“Give me the rest of it,” you command.

“Hmm?”

“The back-up mistletoe, Sy. I’m not an idiot.”

Sylus scoffs, but you do have him wrapped oh so prettily around your finger. He rolls his neck, stalling. If giving up were a slope, he would already be a heap at the bottom of it, but he doesn’t really mind. Three more sprigs of mistletoe appear from thin air, dropping into your open hands.

“Honestly, Sylus,” you groan, stepping past him. Then you thrust the plants to the artist’s chest. “Burn these, Raf.” You’re dusting your hands down as you walk away.

Sylus frowns. That’s neither ideal nor part of the plan.

Rafayel is looking at him, telling him with gloating silence that there’s no playing diplomat, here— no negotiating the return of the hostages. That bridge has been— rather fittingly— burned. The mistletoe turns slowly to ash: darkened by licks of flame that curl with the eager spite of their master’s lips.

It would be beautiful if it wasn’t so damned inconvenient. When the fire’s had its fun, one sprig of mistletoe remains, rich green and ivory— wholly untouched. You’re across the room, talking to Zayne, so Rafayel smirks in triumph. Tucks his prize into his pocket.

Sylus’s heart sinks with it, but he still smiles back.

…

Rafayel isn’t looking too good.

Well, the Rafayel is looking fine, but your Rafayel? Not so much. You steal a glance at the artist across the cluttered kitchen island; he’s sat, leaning, propped up on his elbows, his eyes glazed— he’s clearly away with the fishies. He catches you staring. Gives you a wink.

You glance down at the gingerbread man you’ve been decorating: the blue-pink of his iced eyes, and the mess of purple hair, at least three shades too dark. Oh, gods— probably a million shades too dark through the gaze of a Lemurian. At least the outfit is cute? You’ve recreated Rafayel’s signature cardigan. The plaid pattern isn’t quite straight, but that was a… deliberate choice. This is your interpretation of his cardigan, and you wanted it to reflect its owner. A little all over the place, but still, you love it. Even when it’s coming undone, it keeps you warm.

“Would you like to go next?”

Zayne is talking to you, smiling at you. He was the first to reveal his gingerbread creation: a miniature Xavier that was surprisingly true to life. Your hunting partner had almost glowed with delight, while you were dark with jealousy. The biscuit sits before you all, boasting details that could only be achieved with an exceedingly steady hand.

Worse: Rafayel’s gingerbread is next to it, stupidly, predictably perfect. It’s Zayne. It’s really Zayne, from the sweep of black hair to the hazel eyes; how on earth did he manage to make that colour? The tiny doctor is dressed in his lab coat, sporting his badge and a pocketful of even tinier pens and medical instruments. There’s… shading? Ugh, you can see the creases in the fabric.

“Umm… sure, I can go next,” you mumble.

It was just your luck, pulling Rafayel’s name out of that hat. Sheepishly, you move aside the cookbook you’d stood to guard your project from any prying eyes. Your gingerbread is nudged forwards.

“That’s me!” Rafayel exclaims.

“Yeah…” you confirm half-heartedly. “Sorry, I know it’s not great, but I—”

Lack the skill of a celebrity artist, or the steady hands of a cardiac surgeon? You have no idea which exact pool of self-pity your sentence was set on drowning within, but it doesn’t matter. Rafayel has plucked your gingerbread up for a closer look, and his smile is enormous. “This is amazing!”

“You don’t have to—”

“That’s my cardigan!” He’s crashing the pity party again. “And look at my eyes— the colours! This little guy is so handsome, yeah? You really did me justice, cutie. Look at him!”

He holds the gingerbread up to his face, trying to match its two-dimensional grin. He looks around for affirmation, and it’s just his luck, because is a single man at this table ever going to insult your hard work?

“The eyes are amazing,” Xavier enthuses. “Like the sky at sunset. Who knew my partner was so talented?”

“I did,” Rafayel chirps happily.

Xavier frowns. “No, it was rhetori— never mind.” He smiles at you. Rolls with it. “I knew too, by the way.”

“As did I,” Zayne adds.

Everyone looks at Sylus, who shrugs a shoulder and says, “It was up for debate.”

“Can we please move onto the next person?” you press. This is all too much attention. “Sylus, can you… please?”

He does like it when you beg, but he likes it even more when he can play knight in shining armour. “My pleasure, sweetie.”

For a man whose creative side is mostly indulged by vintage gun restorations, he reveals his gingerbread with a staggering amount of confidence. It’s placed at the centre of the kitchen island, where you all stare down at it. Its hair is snow-white, and its eyes: blood-red.

“That’s…” Zayne begins.

“That’s you, Sylus!” you take-over, voice shrill with betrayal. “You were supposed to say something if you picked yourself! And you— wait, what are…?” There are distinct lines over the gingerbread’s midriff. It dawns on you: “Are those abs?!”

Sylus shrugs again.

“They so are!” You snatch up the biscuit, standing to wave it in Sylus’s face like a crime-scene photo. “Where’s his shirt, huh?”

“He lost it.”

“Bullshit!” you snap. This gingerbread competition had come with its own set of rules, one of which was very clearly: “Nothing obscene! I said nothing obscene, Sylus!”

He leans away from you with a tut. “It’s tasteful, sweetie. The artist will tell you.”

“The artist is staying out of this,” Rafayel murmurs, off to your side.

Sylus crosses his arms, regardless, as though his case has been made. You cross your arms too.

“Can I show you my gingerbread now?” Xavier asks, and his tone is deceivingly soft: a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back.

You release the tension in your body with a sigh, then set the gingerbread down so you can’t throw it at Sylus’s un-smug face (which he’s been very careful about.) “Of course, Xavier,” you smile, slinking back onto your stool. You can throw something at Sylus later. “Ooh, is it me? It has to be me, right?”

Xavier chuckles awkwardly. “It’s you. I don’t think it’s very good, though.”

“Show me!” you insist.

The final cookbook is removed, and Xavier unveils his hard work. You clamp a hand to your mouth.

You don’t have a single word for what you’re looking at— only laughter, and you can’t let yourself laugh, no matter what. If that gingerbread is you? Then it’s a you who’s been torn apart by Wanderers, at least seven consecutive times. Your face is a swirl of colours and features— you think Xavier must have tried to wipe it off to start again, more than once, but it hasn’t worked.

The gingerbread has been broken, too. Three of the four limbs, to be exact, and that you could forgive, but… did he have to use dark red icing to glue them back on? It drips out of the joins messily, almost making you wince.

Everyone is silent.

“A perfect likeness,” says Sylus.

You burst out laughing, and the moment you do, Rafayel’s right there with you. Even Sylus caves— it’s one of the most sincere laughs you’ve ever heard from him. There are tears in your eyes; you can’t help it. Zayne is the strongest of you, but even the tight line of his mouth quivers. He’s biting his lip.

But it’s fine. Xavier is laughing, too. “I said it wasn’t very good!”

“Xavier!” you wheeze. You can’t even look at him. Your stomach hurts. “What… what happened to me?!”

“What do you mean?” he practically giggles.

“What do I mean?” you repeat, and it tips you into another breathless bout of laughter. You go to point at the gingerbread— all the explanation you need— but it almost kills you. You really can’t breathe. After half a minute, you try again. “I look like I’ve been in an accident!”

“Here,” Rafayel grins, and he slides the Doctor Zayne gingerbread over to poor, suffering gingerbread you.

“Aww!” you smile, having finally caught your breath.

Wordlessly, Zayne retrieves his likeness— pulling it away from yours. You frown at him, as confused and wounded as Xavier apparently imagines you. “Even I have my limits,” the doctor shrugs.

That’s it. You’re gone again, your sides aching as your whole body shakes with laughter. It’s too much. Gods, it’s too much. You’re gonna need another minute.

…

“I can’t believe you made you.”

It’s been fifteen or so minutes, and you toy with Sylus’s gingerbread counterpart, pinching his hands between your thumbs and forefingers— making him walk (well, penguin waddle) across the kitchen island.

“Believe it, sweetie,” Sylus huffs with a smile.

“Is this really how you see yourself?”

Before you can walk the gingerbread any further, his creator plucks him up by his head, away from your reaching fingers. “It’s how I think you should see me,” he chuckles. He holds the gingerbread out to you. Wiggles it. “For your eyes only, kitten.”

“Except the other guys saw it—”

“Shhhh, shh shh!” In his haste to silence you, he almost pushes the gingerbread to your lips.

You glare at him. Complain from behind it: “Get your shirtless abs out of my face, Sylus.”

“Make me.”

You snatch the gingerbread, pinning it down on the counter. “Keep pushing your luck, Sy. Wanna see what’ll happen?”

He absolutely does, and his eyes glint with mirth as you reach for a near-empty bowl of crimson icing. You scrape some of it up with a discarded teaspoon, then let it drip generously over his gingerbread. It takes a few, long seconds to really cover him in it. To make him look as fatally tragic as gingerbread you.

“Here,” you say, dropping the spoon in a bowl with a satisfied clink. You hold out the gingerbread. “This’ll be you when I’m done with you.”

Sylus regards it for a moment, his eyebrow quirked. Then his eyes find your gingerbread likeness. “Want to see what you’ll look like when I’m done with you?”

His hand goes out for the bowl of red icing, except… it goes past the bowl of red icing, and lands on a tube of white icing instead. He holds it up with a smile.

“Inappropriate.”

The tube is swept out of his fingers, and he blinks at the empty space, legitimately surprised.

“It was snow, doctor,” he remarks bitterly, once he’s recovered from the second ambush of the evening. He glances over his shoulder. “From a snowball fight?”

“Sure it was,” Zayne mutters, already turning back to the bowl he’s washing in the sink.

Sylus is frowning, affronted, but the expression softens when you’re filling his gaze again. You: your hands on your mouth, so close to spilling laughter. “Oooooh,” you tease with a secretive sing-song voice, “you got in trouble!”

He wrinkles his nose like ‘trouble’ is an insult. It sets you off sniggering uncontrollably.

“What did I miss?”

It’s Xavier, back from the lounge.

“Nothing,” Sylus answers.

“He got in trouble!” you counteract with a not-at-all quiet whisper.

You earn a glare from the criminal, and a little laugh from the hunter. “Third-strike trouble?” the latter enquires. He might have handcuffs on stand-by; it wouldn’t surprise you.

“Not yet,” you grin cheerfully.

Zayne sets a plate on the drying rack. “Give it time.”

…

“I don’t think we have enough, sweetie,” Sylus quips, peeking over the stack of blankets you’ve piled high on his arms.

What was it Rafayel said? High risk, high reward? You mercifully chuckle. Your arms are wrapped around three, plush cushions— the last of your sleepover supplies. Snacks? Are ready. Guests? Haven’t killed each-other yet. You toe open your bedroom door, shouldering the rest of the way through with your missing puzzle pieces of luxury.

“Oh, nice!” someone exclaims from the kitchen. Xavier is watching you, starry-eyed, and his cheeks are full; he’s midway through a cookie.

Sylus steps through the door behind you, issuing a faint noise of disgust. He sounds like he’s being attacked by a bug, so you turn around, ready to leap to the rescue. He’s stood within the door frame, eyes cast upwards to where a sprig of mistletoe hangs on the end of a string. It’s swaying gently; he must have caught his head on it. You frown, lips parted. He was with you the whole time you were looting your bedroom. When did he…? How did he…?

He looks down at you, the mistletoe still hovering above him. You raise an eyebrow, waiting for the inevitable joke, or the even more inevitable invitation.

“I…’ he starts gingerly, “I didn’t…”

Oh. He’s just as confused as you are, and it’s… really cute. He’s lost for words— the man who came here with not one, but four sprigs of mistletoe. The man who threatened your gingerbread with white icing. The man who’s spent the entire evening thinking about how he wants to be close to you.

Sylus laughs, but it’s full of nervousness. “It’s alright,” he says, “you don’t have to—”

You tilt him towards you, your hand on his shoulder and cushions around your feet. “Merry Christmas, Sy,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It’s warm on your lips.

His eyes flutter closed. “Merry Christmas,” he breathes, barely more than a whisper.

You hum contentedly as you pull away from him. When his eyes reopen, they’re warm with a nostalgia you cannot explain, but you can feel, too— so inexplicably. His gaze is blood-red, but it makes you think of flowers.

What a funny feeling. It strikes you a lot, nowadays, and not just with the man in front of you.

Speaking of the others, you glance towards your lounge. Xavier is telling Zayne a story, and Rafayel is watching you from over the back of the sofa— turning away when you spot him. That’s one mystery solved. You collect the cushions from the floor, sparing Sylus a smile before you meander back to your party. The coffee table’s a banquet of sweet, sugary snacks, so you carefully skirt past it.

Xavier’s hands grab at air. You laugh and toss him a cushion. “Thanks,” he grins.

“Here— your favourite.” Zayne is pointing at your freshly-filled mug, and you grin your own thank you as you settle down next to him.

Sylus soon arrives too, handing out blankets, and for all the evening’s animosity, he gets a grateful smile for each. He sits down next to Xavier, and it’s odd, you know? You’ve slain Wanderers, saved lives with every person around you. You’ve seen them bleed and kill.

They’re all wrapping themselves up, like snuggly little Christmas presents. Xavier’s managed to collect another cushion— from Zayne, maybe?— and he’s practically building a fort on his side of the couch. Some of it infringes on Sylus’s space, and you notice him notice, but he doesn’t say a word. Oblivious, tucked under two blankets, Xavier’s already looking sleepy.

Someone’s making less of an effort to get comfortable. On the other side of you, Rafayel sits, uncharacteristically quiet. He hasn’t met your eyes since you sat down. You remember him, watching you under the mistletoe from across the room, and the thought has you leaning in closer.

“That was sweet of you,” you whisper, even though he disobeyed you.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugs.

But he does, so you kiss his cheek, ever so fondly, with that funny feeling in your chest again. It’s the first time, but it doesn’t strike you as such. Uncharted waters, a foreign land— when have I been here before?

Rafayel has relaxed: sunken deep into the sofa and the security of your touch. You smile, pulling his blanket up higher around him— tighter around him— until he’s as much of a cocoon as everyone else. His lips curve with a smile of surrender, ever-willingly captured. Silly fish.

You draw away from him, readjusting in your seat until you’re cuddled up next to Zayne. You don’t see the wink Rafayel shoots Sylus, or the look of begrudging respect in the latter’s red eyes.

“Are you comfortable?” Zayne asks, head angling towards yours.

Co-host to co-host. “Yeah.” You snuggle closer to him. “This is kinda perfect, isn’t it?” He feels cold, despite his Sylus-issued blanket, so you lend him part of yours.

“No,” he confers softly, distractedly.

“No?”

“No.” He gives you a look, and you know it as intimately as the chill of his hands and the warmth of his heart. His ‘I know something that you don’t’ look. Sure enough, he says: “I think it’s missing something.”

On the other sofa, Xavier is beaming at you, having caught onto your conversation. It’s suspicious— harmless conspiracy, surprise-party sort of suspicious, but your pulse still picks up.

“Close your eyes,” Zayne instructs.

And you do, without question. Darkness, yes, but you’re under his care, aren’t you? There’s no anxiousness in your excitement, just trust for the man who was looking out for you long before he was your doctor. Your hands are over your eyes and you’re younger, again, playing hide-and-seek, again.

Zayne’s is a familiarity you can place. A nostalgia built on memories, not reveries.

Something icy touches your hand, then melts without any resistance.

“Open,” Zayne prompts, leaning against you to stir you.

Your apartment has changed again. The lights are all out, save for the fairy lights. The spectrum of colours flicker from the walls and the tree, catching on tiny, white specs in the air. Snowflakes are drifting down, impossibly. Falling, dancing— maybe a bit of both. You look up and some land on your face, cold with their kisses. You giggle in delight.

Everyone’s gaze is on the ceiling: sapphire, emerald, amethyst, ruby. It ought to be dark. Instead, an entire night sky fills the space above you, scattered with thousands of stars. Every pinprick is deliberate. Meticulously placed. There are constellations— infinite patterns that transcend every life you might’ve lead, and every life you’ll ever lead (if you believe in that sort of thing.)

Xavier glances at you, and you forgo the spell of his masterpiece so that you can glance back. Snowflakes are in his hair, dusting him with sparkles. He smiles in a way you think could defy lifetimes, too.

“This is… really something,” Sylus says, and there’s not a hint of sarcasm.

It’s everything. The stars, brighter for darkness. The snow, only novel in warmth. These things don’t always work— they’ll undo each-other, overpower each-other, but there’s an ultimate balance, in-between every conflict. An occasional harmony, and it’s…

Perfect.

Rafayel scoots close to you. “Was this authorised?” he whispers.

You look over to the point board, where there are first strikes beneath Zayne and Xavier’s names, and you don’t know how long they’ve been there.

“No,” you laugh tenderly. “No, it wasn’t.”

#🖋rach is actually writing #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader #sylus x reader #love and deepspace #lads x reader #lads x mc #shen xinghui #li shen #qi yu #qin che #lads #lnds #l&ds

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runninriot · 1 day ago

Text

Four Stockings make a Pair

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles day 24

prompt: Stocking | rated: G | wc: 998 | tags: Eddie & Wayne Munson, single dad Steve, feelings realisation

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | AO3 (+bonus epilogue)

"Wayne, I'm back! Brought a little surprise for you!" Eddie calls out, feeling just a bit guilty when his uncle happily pokes his head into the hallway only to stop dead in his tracks.

"How was- Oh. Hey, Robbie!"

Wayne hobbles towards them and, despite leaning heavy on one crutch, opens his free arm for the little girl that runs straight at him.

"Grandpa Wayne! Why didn't you tell us you hurt your foot? We would've visited you a lot sooner, right dad?"

Something about their interaction makes Eddie's chest feel tight, hits him with a hint of jealousy but also makes his heart grow three sizes because it's nice to know that his uncle has people here that care for him when he's not around.

"Hey, Wayne. Sorry to barge in like that. We, uh, we met Eddie at the community centre and-"

Watching Steve fumble for his words, awkwardly standing in the doorway like he's feeling caught, is almost too much to handle. But as endearing as it is to watch his pretty face turn pink, Eddie has mercy on him.

"Robbie and I were craving your famous hot chocolate, so I invited them over."

Wayne shoots him a look that feels like a silent agreement to 'talk about this later' before he turns back to the girl with one of those rare smiles he doesn't give out freely.

"Is that so? Well, we better make some then. Why don't you two get set in the living room while Robbie and I get on with it. You wanna help me, sweety?"

"Yesss! Can I, dad?"

When Steve agrees, she takes Wayne's free hand and carefully leads him in the direction of the kitchen while telling him all about her afternoon.

"We saw Santa today! He was so nice. And we took a picture with him and I told him what I want for Christmas!"

When Eddie and Steve enter the living room, Eddie's eyes immediately fall on the Christmas tree Wayne must've put up while he was gone - so much for resting his leg. Next to the tree, over the fire place, he notices four instead of only two stockings hanging from the mantelpiece and it makes him wonder if maybe Wayne was planning on sharing his little secret, had Eddie not already found out about it today.

It's hard to realise what he missed out on while being too focused on his own life. He could've visited sooner, more often - Wayne keeps telling him it's fine but Eddie still feels bad about only making his way back home twice a year.

"I'm sorry, Eddie,” Steve starts after a moment of awkward silence, “This must be so weird for you."

"Nah, you're good. I guess I was just surprised Wayne hasn't told me about it."

"Maybe he thought you wouldn't approve? I told him we haven't exactly been friends back then, because I was kind of a dick," Steve says bashfully and that startles a laugh out of Eddie.

"What? No, Harrington. You were fine. Your friends, they were assholes but your only fault was that you were too cool to hang out with someone like me."

Now it's Steve's turn to laugh and it's a beautiful sound Eddie wants to hear more of.

"Oh, shut up. You were waaay cooler than me!"

This goes back and forth for a while, with them bantering and play fighting with each other like friends, like it's never been any different between them. How it could’ve been all those years ago.

"So, uh, you and Robbie. Why did you move back to Hawkins? I always imagined you'd make it into the big city, somewhere far away from here."

It's an instant mood killer, Eddie can tell by the way Steve's smile falters and his shoulders drop. But it's too late to take it back and he really wants to know.

"Uh, you know. Sometimes life doesn’t turn out to be what you wanted it to be. Hawkins seemed like a good idea to get away from... everything. Until I realised that I had no one left here."

There's a sadness in Steve's voice that breaks Eddie's heart. He has to fight the urge to pull him into his arms, doesn’t know if he’s allowed to.

"Then Wayne kinda... found me. I had just moved back and everything felt wrong. I was ready to just give up but then this stranger came into my life out of nowhere, asked if I needed help and- that's how we ended up becoming fam- friends."

His little slip-up doesn't go unnoticed and it makes Eddie feel all warm inside.

"Wayne's always had a weak spot for strays,” he jokes, “Took me in when my life was falling apart, too. He's the best. I'm glad he found you."

Eddie reaches out for Steve’s hand, takes it in his. It’s not a hug but he hopes it still offers some comfort.

It should feel strange, to have Steve and his daughter invading in his home, fitting right in where it had always just been Wayne and him. Somehow making it feel... complete.

Making it hard for Eddie not to drown in the flood of emotions resurfacing from where they've been buried for a long time.

He thinks about Robbie's wish and wonders, if there's a universe in which he could be that person.

They let go of their hands when they hear Robbie and Wayne enter.

"Eddie, look! I made mine with whipped cream. Like yours!"

And, yeah. He's already too deep, he can feel it.

The rest of the day goes by in a haze and when it's time for Steve and Robbie to leave, Eddie isn't ready to let them go.

"Wanna spend Christmas with us?"

The question is out before he can think it through.

"If- if that's okay? I don't-" Steve looks at Eddie, seems unsure.

Again, it's Wayne who saves them both.

"We'd love to have you here."

#eddie munson #wayne munson #steve harrington #single dad steve #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie holiday drabbles

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1425fivefive · 2 days ago

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the people yearn for virginity landoscar (from the kink prompt ask)

“This is your first time, yeah?”

Oscar sort of wants to laugh. Remind Lando that they fucked last night, that Lando shoved him over the desk in their hotel room and fucked Oscar until he was coming all over the lacquered wood, his cock trapped between his stomach and the smooth surface. They’d cleaned it up after, but Oscar reckons you could probably still see a stain if you looked closely.

But Lando’s looking up at him with a breathless expression and Oscar can tell how much this turns him on. The idea of being the first one to have Oscar like this.

Oscar wonders how much of it’s some twisted little power play on Lando’s part, a shitty attempt to erase what Oscar told him about Mark. And, like, Oscar had fucked girls before Mark. He hadn’t even been a virgin, technically, but Lando had still been pissy about it for days. Only seemed to get over it when Oscar let Lando fuck him bare for the first time.

But Mark’s been around the paddock more lately and Oscar wonders if maybe Lando needs this. Needs to feel like Oscar’s choosing him. Like whatever was going on between Mark and Oscar didn’t just end because Mark finally felt bad about fucking his twenty-two-year-old mentee while he had a wife and kids at home.

Oscar spreads his legs a bit and says, “Yeah, uh, it’s my first time.”

Lando’s eyes go desperate and dark at that, and he turns his head to the side, sucking a mark into Oscar’s thigh.

Oscar can’t hold back a moan, hips hitching toward Lando, silently begging for his fingers. Would a virgin do that? Probably not, Oscar thinks, but it doesn’t matter when Lando’s grabbing the lube and squirting some onto his hand, bringing his fingers down to rub gentle circles over Oscar’s rim.

“Fuck, Osc,” Lando murmurs, eyes dragging up Oscar’s body to land on Oscar’s face. “Feel so fucking tight.”

Oscar whimpers at that. It’s not an act, not when Lando’s telling Oscar how tight he is in this low voice Lando only uses when Lando’s out of his mind with need.

“You like hearing that?” Lando asks. He dips the tip of one finger into Oscar, just the hint of a stretch. “Like hearing how good you’ll feel around my cock?”

Oscar whines, nods.

“Gonna open you up with my fingers, yeah?” Lando asks, pressing his finger a little deeper. “Get you all nice and wet and open for my cock.”

“Fuck, Lando,” Oscar moans. “God, that’s—” He trails off as Lando pushes his finger in, immediately crooking up, dragging over Oscar’s prostate.

Oscar’s back arches off the bed, fingers scrabbling at the sheets.

Lando grins. “That’s the spot, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Oscar pants, grinding back against Lando’s fingers. “Yeah, I—fuck.”

“Anyone ever touched you here?” Lando asks idly, like he’s not fingering Oscar open, driving Oscar out of his mind with need. “Reckon you had no idea how much you like being touched like this.”

Oscar whimpers and shakes his head, frantic. It almost feels like the truth.

Oscar’s always liked having his ass played with but it feels like no one’s ever touched him there before. Everything feels so incredibly heightened, like maybe his body’s convinced itself that this really is his first time. That his first time wasn’t at Mark’s shitty rented flat in Monaco.

This would’ve been better, Oscar thinks. With the way Lando always pays such close attention to him, to how his body’s reacting, to whether something feels good. Oscar can’t help but think that would’ve been nice. Nicer at least than whatever the fuck Mark did. Pressed Oscar down onto the bed and told him to relax in that gruff voice of his that doesn’t leave any room for argument.

“Gonna give you another,” Lando murmurs. He bends down to press a kiss to Oscar’s stomach and adds, “Okay?”

Oscar’s not sure why he feels tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. But he nods, whimpering at the feeling of Lando pushing another finger into him.

“Good, Osc,” Lando says softly, starting to fuck his fingers in and out of Oscar, still gentle, so fucking gentle.

When Lando presses a third finger to Oscar’s rim, Oscar must make some noise of discomfort because Lando retreats immediately, pressing a soft kiss to Oscar’s stomach. He ducks his head down and licks over the head of Oscar’s cock, grinning when Oscar lets out a shocked moan.

“Fuck, baby,” Lando breathes, staring up at Oscar with something that looks like awe. “Has anyone ever sucked your cock before?”

Oscar whimpers, shakes his head. It doesn’t feel like a lie.

“Fucking hell,” Lando says, letting out a delirious laugh. “I get to be the first to taste you?”

“Yeah,” Oscar whines, voice high and choked. “Wanted you to be my first.”

“Jesus, I—” Lando doesn’t finish his sentence, just leans down and suck Oscar cock into his mouth, moaning around Oscar’s cock.

Oscar keens, head thrashing to the side, hand flying down to Lando’s curls, desperate to ground himself. But Lando knows exactly how to suck Oscar’s cock, knows that wrapping a loose fist around the base and sliding it in sync with his mouth will have Oscar right on the edge in no time at all. Lando’s showy about it, flashing his eyes up to Oscar’s, grinning around Oscar’s cock, dragging his pink tongue up the length and suckling at the head. It makes Oscar feel insane, makes Oscar worry he might come before Lando even gets his cock in him.

Oscar’s so caught up in it that he almost doesn’t notice Lando pressing a third finger into him, only figures it out when his rim tries to tighten and can’t, stretched too wide around Lando’s thick fingers.

Lando seems to notice Oscar’s rim fluttering uselessly because he pulls off Oscar’s cock with a groan, staring down at where his fingers are disappearing into Oscar.

“God,” Lando moans, fucking his fingers into Oscar, watching Oscar’s rim stretch.

Oscar flushes under the attention, humiliated and turned on by the idea of Lando staring at him there.

“Don’t,” Oscar pleads, thighs trying to close, stopped by Lando’s body between them.

“Why?” Lando asks, still watching his fingers fuck into Oscar, fingers hitting Oscar’s prostate each time. “You’re so pretty down here.”

Oscar lets out a strangled noise, toes curling, fingers tightening on the sheets, body drawing tight tight tight. He doesn’t realize he’s going to come before it’s already happening, his orgasm spilling out of him like he’s letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He’s letting out these awful, shuddering moans, staring down at his cock with a shocked expression as he keeps spurting across his stomach.

Lando lets out a desperate noise but he works Oscar through it, keeps his fingers pressed against Oscar’s prostate, thrusting steadily as Oscar keeps coming.

As Oscar finally stops coming, he slumps against the bed, thighs splaying open, chest heaving.

“Jesus,” Lando breathes, fingers still buried inside Oscar.

Oscar can’t look at him, suddenly, horribly humiliated by how easily he came. He tosses his arms over his eyes, inhaling a shaky breath.

But he feels something wet dragging over his stomach and he has to lift his arms up, looking down to find Lando licking over his stomach, lapping up his come.

“Fuck, Lando,” Oscar breathes. “You don’t—m’sorry.”

Lando pulls off, frowning. “Why’re you sorry?”

“Just like—for coming so early,” Oscar says, flushing at having to say it out loud.

Lando snorts. “All good.” He presses another kiss to Oscar’s stomach, before propping his chin there, smirking up at Oscar. “Guess you really are a virgin.”

Oscar wants to be annoyed but all he can do is let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head.

“Plus, like, we’re young,” Lando says with a shrug. “Reckon you can go again. Still need to, like, officially deflower you and all.”

Oscar’s about to say something, but Lando’s shuffling back down to lick over Oscar’s softening cock, eyes crinkling when Oscar lets out a high, desperate whimper.

#landoscar #kink prompts #ask games #drabble

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lvis44 · 2 days ago

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Cabin Fever - Pt. 3 // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol Consumption, Angst, Lewis being an ass, allusions to mental health struggles, 18+ MINORS DNI, not edited

Word Count: 5.3k+

Summary: He's your Sister in Laws best friend, you shouldn't even have to deal with him. Always seeming like a cocky arrogant prick, and now here he is crashing your family Christmas. Can you handle a full week of Lewis Hamilton? Or might he not actually be as bad as he seems?

Notes: A bit more drama for you guys tonight but this is nothing compared to what we've got coming up, oopsie lol. Hoping to get the next part out quickly so it kinda aligns with the holidays in real time! I would also formally like to start an important conversation about why the hell this man only seems to own winter jackets the color of a highlighter (im sure it's for safety when snowboarding but pls). I love you all and I'm so happy you guys are enjoying our angsty little Christmas fic!

As always, I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy!

**italics are a jump back in time**

The moment you make your way downstairs the next morning you are ready to turn and run back up to your room. You can hear everyone in the kitchen already, much to your surprise. Their voices are much louder than you would have wanted but you carry on, aware that the only way you’re getting coffee is by showing your face in there.

“Well good morning sleepy head! I was wondering when you’d show up.” Your dad greets you warmly.

“Hey I was up long before any of you yesterday.” You argue as he pulls you into a side hug.

“I do believe I was up before you.” Lewis pipes up with a smirk.

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” You grumble, trying to conceal the roll of your eyes but when you meet Lewis’ gaze you know you’ve failed, “I need coffee, lots of it.”

Tom laughs from over at the coffee bar where he seems to be making himself some sort of fancy espresso, “Coming right up.”

You thank him, taking a seat next to your brother at the island, watching the chaos ensuing on the other side of the kitchen. Your mother, Beatrice, and Vanessa are in what seems to be party planning mode. They’re rummaging through cupboards and running back and forth to the fridge, Vanessa has a notebook out creating some sort of list, Beatrice is loudly reading some recipe from her phone.

“How long has this been going on?” You ask the men at the counter, trying to keep your voice low.

“About twenty minutes, they’ve probably got another twenty in them.” Lewis says, picking up his coffee and watching the scene himself.

You let out a deep breath, already exhausted by the amount of energy flowing through the room, praying you don’t somehow get sucked into it as well.

“Y/N, thank goodness you’re up!” Vanessa says excitedly, finally noticing your presence on one of her trips around the kitchen.

“Good Morning.” You respond softly, trying not to allow any chance of being roped into whatever is going on.

“So,” Vanessa's voice comes out chipper and matter of fact as she puts her palms down on the counter, evidently ready to give you the full run down, “I felt so bad yesterday, I had so many things planned for a fancy breakfast and the weather just had to ruin it all so I really want to make up for all of it today. Thank you again for pulling that off yesterday, I was so grateful, but I want a big fancy family brunch, we haven't had one in so so long and I’ve been thinking about it since I started planning this trip. And I don’t want it to be our Christmas morning brunch, I want it to be its own special moment, ya know?”

You can tell that your eyebrows have gotten higher on your forehead with every word that she has said, speaking faster than you could ever comprehend at the early hour. You hear your brother take a deep breath from next to you as Lewis chuckles lowly.

“I’m sure it will be wonderful, very talented ladies doing the cooking.” Tom tells his daughter before setting a delicious smelling cup of coffee down in front of you, “Here you go Y/N.”

“Thank you, it smells fantastic.” You say sincerely, happily wrapping your chilly hands around the warm cup.

“It better, I brought my own beans and everything. That should be the best cup of coffee you’ve had in your life.” He tells you proudly.

“It was a phenomenal cup of coffee.” Lewis says with an amused smile on his face, one that Tom seems to read as more genuine than you think it really is.

“Very good, very very good.” Dylan is quickly agreeing.

“Now listen,” Vanessa’s voice is quick to grab your attention again, “you did such an amazing job yesterday with breakfast and then helping with all the storm cleanup,”

Before she can finish Lewis lets out a sound halfway between a laugh and a scoff, cutting her off, “I don’t know if I would call whatever she was doing yesterday helping.” His voice is muffled by the rim of his coffee mug but you can hear the cheek to his voice, more teasing than the jabby tone it usually carries for you, you assume it's because of the current company.

You open your mouth to defend yourself but your brother is joining in quickly, “I mean she made a valiant effort but I do think I have to agree with Lewis on this one.” He’s laughing as he pinches at your side.

You try to find the right words to argue your defense but you realize you really can’t, thinking back to your ways of helping the day before.

You had started strong, initially heading out after breakfast to try to clean up all the branches that had been blown into the yard, that lasted for only twenty minutes before Lewis and Dylan were getting the plow and skidoo out of the garage. Once the big toys were out you had no more interest in your handheld rake and shovel. You had gone over to inspect the new fun equipment but were quickly shooed away by both Lewis and your brother, both claiming you were going to get in the way and possibly end up hurting yourself. You had accepted defeat, heading back to your sad pile of branches before once again getting quite distracted by the fun sound of the engine on the skidoo. You had done your best to act as if you were still working but you had ended up watching Lewis zip around the yard for much longer than you would have liked to admit. There was something about his level of both control and chaos behind the handlebars that scratched your brain just right and it irked you and brought you immense satisfaction all at once. Once your brother had gotten into the swing of plowing, Lewis following him down the hill to keep Vanessa's mind at ease, you had gotten back to your sad attempt at branch removal, by the time they made it back up to the house you were collecting your armful.

“Y/N you do know that it’s been a full hour and you don’t even have enough sticks to make a mouse a campfire, right?” Lewis had taunted you when he saw you walking across the driveway as he removed his goggles, your brother laughing as he hopped out of the plow.

“Oh fuck off, at least I was doing something, you were just joyriding.” You said sassily, quickly changing course so you weren’t walking directly past him.

“I,” He started, his voice long and drawn out to dramatically make his point, “was keeping your brother safe. The buddy system is very important, you know.”

“A knight in shining,” You started to say but before you could get the whole sentence out you were falling flat on your ass, your abysmal stick pile flying everywhere.

“Woah Y/N, shit you alright?” Your brother was quick to react, leaving his open truck door to run over to you.

“You’ve gotta be kidding.” Lewis huffed out, also quickly making his way over to you.

They had both been there within an instant, squatting next to you to make sure you were alright. Your brother was handling you like fine china even though he could tell you were okay, Lewis however was immediately giving you shit.

“You do realize we’ve been here for like twelve hours and this is the second time you’ve fallen in front of me, right?” The tone of his voice was unamused despite offering you his hand to help pull you up.

“I did not fall last night.” You had tried to defend yourself as he got you to your feet, your brother still giving you a worried look like he thought you had secretly broken something.

“Because I caught you.” He had quickly pointed out.

“Whatever.” You grumbled as you bent down to collect your stick pile, admittedly leaving a good half of them behind before once again heading toward your brother's brush pile off by the shed. Before you could even make it half way, a very well aimed snowball was colliding with your ass cheek, once again knocking the sticks out of your arms.

“I am going to fucking kill you.’ You had exclaimed loudly, quickly gathering a large armload of snow to form into your own snowball before turning around and whipping it in their direction. You ended up hitting your brother, immediately feeling a little bad because you assumed it had come from Lewis in the first place. Lewis let out a cackle when the snowball hit your brother, evidently pleased that he hadn’t been the one to get in trouble.

“Oh hell no, that was meant for you.” Dylan had said, also laughing but incredibly serious, his own snowball already being packed tightly to whip at Lewis. Much to your pleasure, Dylan was much closer to Lewis and was much stronger than you so you could tell the impact didn’t feel amazing when it finally slapped into his chest.

“I just thought you should put some ice on it after that fall, I was trying to be helpful.” Lewis laughed as he put his arms up to guard himself from any further snowballs being sent his way. You and your brother exchanged a look, both of you loading up again, hurling snow in Lewis’ direction.

He screamed as he turned to run, his snow gear making him much less agile than he would normally be. He had finally found steady footing, his own snowballs being sent in both of your directions, all three of you in a fit of laughter. Somewhere along the line your alliance with your brother had crumbled, his snowballs being sent your way as well, no longer reserved for just Lewis. By the time you finally called truce you had all been absolutely soaked, your stomachs hurting from laughing so hard and your pile of sticks long forgotten. When you made your way back to the house you had found yourself very surprised at how playful and fun that time with Lewis had been but you decided that it must have been a bit of a fluke, knowing it wouldn’t last the rest of the day.

You try to think of a way to argue your defense but you have to admit to yourself that you really can’t, you truthfully didn’t do any actual storm cleanup yesterday.

“It’s the thought that counts, I tried.” You grumble into your mug as the two men laugh.

“Well, either way, you absolutely slayed it with breakfast and putting up with them,” Vanessa gives you a smirk, trying to take away their ammunition, “so I want you to just relax this morning, Moms and I will take care of all things brunch, you just enjoy the pretty scenery and your amazing coffee.”

You smile at her, mouthing a thank you, grateful that you are not expected to be part of the brunch circus that is unfolding in the kitchen before you. Your mother and Beatrice are still frantically figuring out if they have everything for some recipe that they have selected. You sit back, watching as Vanessa returns to her chaos with your mothers, seeming weirdly at home within it. Tom and your father begin loudly discussing just where Tom is sourcing his coffee beans, raising the volume of the kitchen just that much more. You go to turn to your brother, only to find him standing from his seat to rinse out his coffee cup. Lewis is grabbing his phone and eagerly taking a call, leaving the room rapidly. You let out a sigh, choosing to make your way into the den with your coffee, hoping for some level of peace in there. The room is cozy, a fire already going and a light snow falling outside the large windows. You try to settle into one of the plush couches but as you sit there you feel yourself growing more and more aggravated. On one side you can hear your family in the kitchen, all talking loudly about different subjects that don’t even meld together into anything coherent, on the other side you can hear Lewis’ muffled voice on the phone. You can’t actually make out anything that he’s speaking about but the low timbre is enough to be disruptive. You find it hard to believe that in a house of this size you can’t find any silence, yet here you are, you shouldn’t be shocked with it being your family. You decide you can only take so much and come to the conclusion that you would rather be out in the cold and quiet than in here with the chatter. You take your coffee and head off to the foyer to find your winter gear to bundle up, the better idea of just going to your room nowhere to be seen in your head. You get as cozy as possible, grabbing a blanket out of the den before heading back to the kitchen.

“I think I’m just gonna go sit out back for a little while and appreciate the view while I have my coffee.” You awkwardly announce as you make your way to the backdoor, raising your blanket in your hand as you do.

“That sounds absolutely lovely, enjoy yourself!” Beatrice exclaims, overly enthusiastic about your plans.

When you first step out of the house you begin to question your plans, the cold air immediately hitting your face and wrapping you in an unforgiving cocoon, but the moment the door closes behind you, you’re at peace. The door seals your family and their loud chatter away wonderfully, just the gentle howl of the wind and small noises of things falling in the forest left to be heard. You make your way across the covered deck, settling into one of the luxurious outdoor couches overlooking the large backyard and forest. You snuggle as far as possible into your blanket, trying to keep as much of your body heat as possible. You can feel a deep sigh leave your body as you take in your surroundings, admitting to yourself that as much as you hate winter, you do love the beauty of the blanketing of snow. You sit in silence for a while, just sipping your coffee and enjoying the peaceful way the world is waking up, the snow falling gently. It sadly doesn’t take long for your silence to be interrupted, the door opening behind you. You let out a huff when you see who is making their way outdoors.

“Ocupado.” You say sassily as you turn your attention back out to the view in front of you.

Lewis just scoffs, making his way over to sit on one of the couches near you.

“Seriously, I just need some silence. Do you have nowhere else to go?” You groan childishly, seeing him settling into his seat.

“I let you get warm in front of my fire yesterday, I think you can share the silence of your deck with me now.” He says, his voice just as sassy.

You go to argue with him, wanting to tell him that it’s not the same and his fire was in the den, a common area, but you quickly realize that this too is a common area that you have no monopoly over. You decide to bite your tongue, rolling your eyes as he settles deeper into the couch, pulling his phone out. You decide to do the same, feeling awkward staring into the trees now that you have company. It doesn’t take long before the first post from a friend is popping up on your feed. She is back in California, a small party dress on that would have you getting hypothermia here. The post is about a party that you had known would be happening, a fun Christmas get together with a bunch of your friends that you would have loved to have been at, carefree and ridiculous fun. You let out a huff as you scroll through her post, the fomo eating you alive as you do so.

“Thought you wanted silence.” Lewis grumbles from his spot at the sound of your huff, his voice already laced with annoyance.

“So sorry to disturb you, your highness.” You fire back at him sarcastically.

“It’s just sir, I’m a knight, not technically royalty.” He replies, his voice so cocky that it makes you want to smack him, only stopping when you see the slightly teasing smirk on his face.

You roll your eyes again, not even having the energy to come up with something witty to say back to him in the moment.

“Seriously though, what’s got you in such a mood?” He asks, sounding genuinely curious, much to your surprise.

“I’m not in a mood.” You mutter, burrowing further into your blanket, your attention back on your phone.

He lets out a chuckle at your response, “Yeah the huffing and puffing really sells that narrative well.”

“Oh shut up, you know I don’t particularly want to be here, just let it go.” You say quietly, not wanting your family to hear your disdain for your surroundings.

“I know, and me being here probably isn’t helping that, but it seemed like there was something else going on. Thought you saw something that was upsetting you.” He says casually, shrugging like it’s a normal conversation for the two of you to be having.

You’re taken aback by his casual and genuinely curious nature, not being used to anything like this from Lewis. It takes your guard down, quicker than it should. You let out a sigh, deciding, against your better judgement, to confide in him a little bit. You know he could come back with some level of snippy remark but you were prepared for that, maybe he would actually have a normal conversation with you for once.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love my family, but seeing everyone enjoying their lives as adults and doing what they want, where they want, I don’t know, it’s just driving me a bit insane.” You divulge, not getting your point across in quite the way you meant to.

He raises an eyebrow at you, evidently rather confused by what you mean, “I mean, you’re an adult, you spend 99% of the year doing what you want, where you want. What’s the problem?”

You just shake your head, deciding to instead show him the post that caused the initial huff. You watch as his brows furrow while he scrolls through the instagram post you handed him. Quickly his face turns from curious to judgemental. It’s his turn to roll his eyes as he finally hands you your phone back.

“So you’d rather be back in the smog of LA where you can’t even tell it’s Christmas, dressed in a skimpy dress with your friends? You’d prefer that to fresh mountain air, a white Christmas, and your family that loves you?” His tone is belittling as he reads the situation completely incorrectly, his questions coming out more as statements, as if nothing that you say now will change his mind.

Your jaw drops at the accusation, a loud scoff leaving your throat as you snatch your phone back from him, “How dare you, that was not the point I was trying to make.” You begin to argue before he’s cutting you off.

“You see those people all the time Y/N, how often do you see any of your family?” He raises his brow in challenge but doesn’t give you time to formulate a response before he’s carrying on, “We all know you don’t want to be here, just suck it up, a little bit of winter mountain air and family time isn’t going to kill you.” He doesn’t wait for a rebuttal, he just stands from his seat as if he’s just finished reprimanding a child and walks away, back inside.

He leaves you in your seat, silent and fuming but also leaving you feeling a tad guilty. He is correct, you don’t want to be here, but it has nothing to do with you preferring to be out in a skimpy dress in LA, it’s about your freedom. Having the freedom to do as you please and be where you want, something you haven’t had a ton of in your life. You hate that everyone knows that you would prefer to be somewhere else, making you feel as if you’re almost a burden. You hate that Lewis feels that he has the right to make such deep assumptions about you and treat them as fact and you hate even more that he feels he has the right to lecture you based on those assumptions.

You end up staying out on the back deck much longer than you had originally planned, only finally making your way back indoors when Vanessa announces that brunch is served. You do your best to ignore him, not even looking in his direction. Instead you spend most of brunch quizzing Vanessa on things about her brunch that in all honesty you aren’t particularly interested in, but listening to Vanessa explain how he gets her eggs to fluffy is much better than having to even think about dealing with the man sitting at the other end of the table.

It irks you that you can hear him chatting so freely and happily down the table, as if he hadn’t accosted you on the porch mere hours beforehand. You find yourself already making a plan for escape before you’ve even cleared your plate.

Avoiding him throughout the rest of the day ends up being shockingly easy. You take an extra long time getting ready before helping Vanessa and your mom with some last minute gift wrapping. You can’t help but laugh when you see that Vanessa's “last minute stuff” actually appears to be a majority of her gifts, but you don’t complain, knowing it will take up more of your time, and in turn help in your game of avoidance. You can hear Lewis chatting off in the distance, your father quizzing him eagerly on his car collection after hearing he added something new. Lewis gushed with ease, thoroughly entertaining your fathers questions and while it could be considered a nice conversation you felt like it sounded arrogant, flashy.

“Boys and their toys.” Your mom muttered with a laugh, also listening to bits of the conversation, your father now seemingly showing Lewis photos of a car he had back in the nineties.

“Tell me about it, I couldn’t for the life of me get Dylan out of that plow truck when we first bought it and the snow hadn’t even fallen yet.” Vanessa exclaims, shaking her head.

You just laugh as you lean back to stare out the window for a moment, admiring the way the world is beginning to turn blue as the sun goes down. As if he’s noticed it getting dark at the very same moment, Dylan is bursting into the room talking about Christmas lights.

“Get out, we are not finished in here Mr.” Vanessa is quickly squealing, throwing her body in front of the few remaining unwrapped gifts.

“Okay, okay,” Dylan laughs, throwing his hand over his eyes before continuing, “What I was saying is the lights in the forest look like they stayed up through the storm! It’s getting dark so I was hoping we could all take a walk out there, it’ll be beautiful.”

“That sounds nice Dyl, give us just a little time to get ready.” You say softly, eager to see the lights that have your brother so excited.

“Sweet, I’ll go let the guys know.” He says like a little kid, whipping around to go inform them of the new plans.

“He made an absolute wonderland out there, you guys are going to love it.” Vanessa says, already standing up to collect the remaining wrapping paper, shoving things away like she’s now on a time crunch.

You take that as your sign to go change and get ready for a winter walk. When you go to head upstairs you finally cross paths with Lewis who seems to be headed to his own room, you pause for a moment before flicking your gaze away and trying to move past him.

“Joining us on the walk?” He asks, his voice cold, sounding like he’s expectant of a no.

“Uh, yeah, of course.” You waver slightly, caught off guard that he had any words for you at all. You wished your voice had come out stronger, not wanting him to feel like he had any sort of upperhand, that he had gotten under your skin.

He does actually look surprised, his eyebrows twitching up in a certain judgemental look of disbelief before he is once again turning on his heel. He doesn’t say a word, just walks away to his bedroom.

When you make your way back downstairs, everyone is there and waiting. Dylan is animatedly explaining how he set up with power for the lights and how they follow all of the groomed paths in a certain pattern. Once he notices that you’re there he is directing everyone to follow him to the back yard, still explaining his tree lighting process on the way. You can’t help the grimace that leaves your body when you step outside, the temperature having dropped drastically since you were out here earlier. You try to just burrow further into your coat, not wanting to complain after being made so aware of your attitude earlier today.

As you wander the paths you find yourself mesmerized, Vanessa was right about the absolute wonderland of it all. The glittery lights look like stars, spanning higher up trees than you would like to think about your brother being, but regardless they are breathtaking. You find yourself falling away from the group a bit, too caught up in admiring the gorgeous trees and trying to keep as much of your warmth in as possible. Your family carries on walking, unaware of your sudden slow pace, Lewis however seems to notice and slows down himself. So much that you almost trip over him, having been blissfully unaware of his presence.

“You okay?” He asks you when you’re steady on your feet.

“I’m just fine Lewis.” Your voice is as cold as the outdoor air as you avoid looking in his direction.

“Well, from where I’m standing, you’re shaking like a leaf.” His tone has lost its earlier harshness but still carries that bit of arrogance as you catch him smirking at you out of the corner of your eye.

“Just wore the wrong jacket, I’ll be fine.” You argue, keeping your voice short but still pulling your thin jacket tighter. You're mentally cursing yourself for not having worn your puffer.

“Do you want to head back? I’ll walk with you.” His offer catches you off guard, his voice sincere and almost kind as he continues to stare at you, the smirk gone.

“I’m fine,” You say yet again, your voice slightly quieter now, “Dylan worked hard on this, I’ll survive.”

Just as you once again reiterate your argument a gust of wind comes through, picking up the loose snow and blowing it around you sending yet another chill directly down your spine. Lewis evidently notices the cold seeping deeper into your bones, taking it upon himself to make the decision.

“Y/N and I are gonna head back to the house, she’s getting a little too cold, gonna get her something warm, we’ll see you guys in a bit.” He yells ahead to your family against your will.

“Oh, hun, are you okay?” Your mother is immediately concerned.

“I’m fine, I’m not going back.” You start to insist but Lewis is stepping in yet again.

“She’s fine, just wore the wrong jacket. The lights look amazing Dylan, well come see them when she’s warmed up.” Before you can say anything he’s starting to usher you back down the path, Dylan is thanking him and Vanessa is telling you where to find more blankets.

Lewis is guiding you down the path, his body close against your back and his grip firm on your waist as if you don’t know the way. You hate the way he is manhandling you but you have to admit you are relishing in the warmth coming from the proximity. You don’t allow it to go on for too long, wrenching yourself out of his grip once you’re far enough away from your family. You pick up your pace, both in a show of defiance and actually quite wanting to get back to the warmth of the house. You hear him let out a scoff behind you as you throw your little tantrum.

The heat of the house is immediately welcoming, wrapping around you like a hug the moment you open the door. You take a moment to let the heat sink into your bones before even moving to remove your jacket. Lewis stands there watching you for a moment, just shaking his head before taking off his own large puffer.

“What?” You groan, assuming he has a comment to make.

“You know sub zero temps usually require a little more than a flimsy fashion jacket from the mall, right?” His voice is laced with judgement again, the kindness from the forest long gone.

“Oh, would you just fuck off!” You finally properly snap, whipping your head to face him.

““I’m just saying you’re a grown adult and you’re acting like winter is gonna kill you, you can’t even prepare for it” His response is quick, his tone just as snippy as yours, dripping with arrogance.

“I have a fucking parka in my room, I didn’t know how cold it was.” You throw back at him.

“Mmm sure, or you just wanted to look good for the little walk.” He accuses you, his tone condescending.

“Look good for who? I’m in the middle of fucking nowhere!” You fully yell at him, finally done with his jabs.

He ignores the question, his voice raising but not yet actually yelling, “Have you ever considered that maybe it’s good for you to be in the middle of nowhere once in a while?”

“I do not need some asshole who doesn’t even know me giving me fucking life advice, thank you very much.” You snap, no longer yelling but your voice is harsh.

“Well maybe you do because from where I’m standing you would rather be back in LA partying with your friends to post on Instagram than at your brother's beautiful new house with your whole family that loves you. They fucking want you here and you get to fucking see them, stop acting like its pulling fucking teeth for you to be here.” He actually yells this time, momentarily stunning you.

“Why do you even fucking care so much?” You just about scream, praying that your family is still far away from the house. The two of you haven’t even made it out of the foyer yet.

He just stares at you, his eyes hard and his chest heaving slightly. He opens his mouth before quickly snapping it shut, finally letting out a long, deep sigh. “Ya know what, I guess I fucking don’t. Go take a hot shower before you get fucking hypothermia.” He finally mutters harshly as he storms out of the room, his bedroom door slamming shut not long after.

You stand in the foyer, staring down the hallway where he disappeared, still dressed in your winter jacket. You can feel the tears pricking in the back of your eyes, immediately pissing you off that they can be caused by even Lewis. You bite lips, willing the tears to stop, but then you realize, there it is.

It finally feels like Christmas.

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