#sorry it’s just disgusting at my house outside of my room

[a-aexotic]

grumpy!rafe and sunshine!reader where he’s obsessed with her and is so clingy. whatever you want to write about that tbh

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings: fluff!, rafe being mean (towards top LMFAO), mention of parties/drinking.

summary. when reader goes on a girls trip, rafe gets grumpy because his girl is gone because he's alone.

➜ missing out on updates? ❪ navigation. masterlist. taglist. ❫

part 2 !!

You and Rafe were complete opposites. You two were so contrasting, everyone had questions but neither of you cared. You two were just in your own bubble, not caring about anyone else's opinion.

Rafe didn't like many people but more importantly, he loved close to no one. For a while he guarded his heart so furiously, everyone had just grown used to the fact he was just an asshole. Not you, you broke down those walls the moment you walked into his life.

He immediately liked you. But, he grew to love you. And so did you with him. You changed him as well for the better as well; everyone knew that Rafe became a better person when he got with you.

You had him whipped and he wasn't afraid to admit to anyone.

Rafe was sitting outside by the pool, annoyance filling his body. You were out of town for the weekend and he honestly had nothing to do except sulk around until you eventually came back. He heard the door slide open and he looked over to see Topper.

He groaned out load and sighed. "What do you want?"

"Dude, chill out."

"I am, Topper, your aura is just pissing me off." Rafe argued and Topper let out a laugh, taking a seat in the chair next to him.

"Aura? Dude, are you joking? You've been hanging around Y/N way too much man. It's been a year now and you guys are still in the honeymoon phase."

Rafe's nostrils flared as he turned back to his 'best friend.' "Well it's always the honeymoon phase if you found the right one, Top. You wouldn't know that because there is no right one for you."

Topper rolled his eyes in annoyance but before he could reply, Rafe continued.

"And I don't hang out with Y/N too much. It's a reasonable amount of time."

"Bro, when was the last we actually hung out?"

"Like last weekend dude, chill out. You're acting like I don't ever see you. You're always at my house, man, it's getting exhausting." Rafe sighed before Topper registered what he was saying and nodded.

"Oh, yeah. You're right. That party was awesome last weekend bro, wow. I forgot about it." Topper chuckled to himself and Rafe made a disgusted face.

"Why are you here anyway, Top?" Rafe got up from the chair and started walking inside; he needed a beer after the conversation with Topper.

He followed close behind. "Uh, Sarah was getting me my stuff back."

Rafe couldn't help but laugh to himself as Topper glared at him. "Sorry, man. I thought you were off that train a while ago, you're still on her? It's been like-"

"Dude, you wouldn't understand!"

Rafe heard the door open and the footsteps leading into the kitchen. He immediately put down his beer once he saw your face, a big smile forming on his lips.

"Y/N!"

You walked over to him with a grin playing on your lips as you embraced him tightly. He put his arms around your waist. As you let go he leaned in for a quick kiss on the lips as Topper furrowed his eyebrows in disgust.

"Get a room."

Rafe glared at him. "You realize it's my house, right, Topper?"

You laughed at your boyfriend's sarcasm. "Sorry, Top, you still haven't found a girlfriend?"

"Yeah, man. It's really hard to find a decent girl on this stupid island." Topper ran his hand through his hair, obviously stressed out. You held in a laugh.

Rafe put a hand on Topper's shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. "You'll find one soon, dude, don't worry. Now, if you don't mind leaving, me and my girl have to catch up."

"Oh, come on, it's been like two days!"

Rafe gave him a stern look before Topper rolled his eyes and groaned, walking away. Rafe faced you and gave you a kiss on your forehead, taking your hand in his.

He led you outside and he took a seat where he was sitting before. He spread his legs so you stand in between them as he grabbed your waist, pulling you in.

"Top's right, Rafe, it has only been-"

"Shhh, let me enjoy this moment."

You found a tiny bit amusing how clingy Rafe was. You took it as a compliment though, you were glad you were one of the only people who have ever had Rafe so whipped for them; maybe even the only one.

He pulled your waist in more and put his head on your stomach, finding comfort in you and your body. He looked up at you with a smile. "Missed you so much babe. I was bored all weekend, I literally only hung out here. But Topper kept annoying me."

You laughed at that, "Topper's your best friend."

"No, you are. He's just the dude I hang around with."

You shook your head. "Stop being mean, I know you care about him a tiny bit."

He rolled his eyes, "like the smallest bit."

You smiled at your boyfriend, putting your hands in his hair as he relaxed. "I missed you, too. So much, I kept saving your snaps because I missed your cute face."

He grumbled at the wording and you couldn't help but laugh again. "I mean, hot face."

He grinned, "that's better."

#rafe obx #rafe smut #rafe fanfiction #outerbanks rafe #rafe imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x you #rafe fic #rafe angst #rafe outer banks #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x oc #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron angst #outerbanks #obx2 #obx fanfiction #obx #obx s3 #obx imagine #obx jj #outer banks #obx season 3 #outer banks 3 #outer banks fluff

[harrysonlylover]

Heat*

Summary: Your fiancée plans a trip to Italy after you get uncomfortable from the Summer heat.

Trope: CEO! H

WC:7.2k

Warnings: Jealousy, Possessiveness, mentions of pregnancy and ovulation, soft domrry.

A/n: so seepy besties don’t mind the mistakes.

CEO H Masterlist

Long hot summers are not for you.

Even though you’re unemployed, going out is still a must for you whether it be for hanging out with friends, running errands, or visiting Harry at his office.

Now that the heat is intensifying, you can’t bear making plans or even thinking about stepping out of the house. The high temperature makes sweat build and the humidity ruins your hair and overall mood, Summer was never your favorite season but now that you’re pregnant, you despise it.

Whining about it was unintentional, frankly, everyone was annoyed by the heat. At first, Harry panicked and begged you to stay indoors. His biggest fear was something happening to you when he wasn’t near, let alone now when you’re pregnant.

You did comply and stayed home for most of the days, but there is only so little you can do when you’re alone. You tried Pilates and Yoga for pregnant women with different instructors on YouTube, cooked new recipes that help with pregnancy, and changed the decoration in the living room twice. You even read some of the books Harry bought.

You’re one month into pregnancy and so far, you’ve only experienced morning sickness, fatigue at night, and frequent urination. The whole vomiting ordeal drains the life out of you, not only is it disgusting but it occurs every day.

Harry was over the clouds ever since he found out about the baby, he wanted to arrange a huge party for the celebration but you were against it and insisted on privacy for the first few months.

All it takes is for you to demand something and he would do it with a sealed mouth. He has been acting quite giddy and clingy, and much more obsessed with your body now that you’re pregnant.

He insisted that you gained some sort of glow even though you look dead after you vomit. The whole sickness part is what made him pouty and apologetic. For the first few days, he teared up and refused to go to his office, there wasn’t much you could say because you were feeling quite shitty.

Then it became less frequent but it didn’t stop him from feeling bad, he kept saying ‘Sorry’ over and over again because he knocked you up and caused all this fuss. He wouldn’t listen even when you assured him that it was just a part of the pregnancy.

Flower bouquets decorated the apartment every single day. He is aware that you have a spacious backyard with a garden that houses different types of plants but no. Every morning he sent out a flower delivery and a handwritten card by him, not the florist.

‘Morning my dove, hope you have an amazing day. Thought I’d give the orchids a try today. Eat well and rest for the little peanut. I love you endlessly. XOXO.’

That was one example out of many. He might as well invest in a flower shop.

As for the unbearable heat, even the poor flowers didn’t handle it. It reached up to 35 degrees every day and you couldn’t move from the couch even though the entire penthouse was air-conditioned.

You weren’t mentioning the temperature on purpose but Harry always listened intently even if your conversations meant nothing. He simply hummed and warned you to not go outside as he was already running errands for you.

It wasn’t until two days later when you woke up to the sound of bags zipping that you noticed what he had done.

“Sweetheart I made you breakfast, please eat it so we can get going to Italy.”

That was all he had to say as you glanced at the set of bags he packed, one of them being unfamiliar. At least five bags were waiting to be picked up by Harry’s chauffeur.

You didn’t have the heart to question anything because you knew that he did it for your comfort, even though he could easily say that it was business for the new branch in Italy.

You enjoyed the omelette with veggies that he prepared as you observed him walking around in shorts and a ‘Daddy’ shirt. Yes, a fucking ‘Daddy’ shirt.

He was making phone calls in Italian, you understood very little but you could tell that he was asking for his yacht and something about his villa.

Maybe it’s the pregnancy or simply your love for him but the way he was handling these things for you and casually strolling in such clothes with his biceps flexing every time he switched the phone from one ear to another with his other hand in his pocket….

Some drool fell on the omelette but it was nothing compared to the wetness between your thighs. He’s already looking like a dilf and you’re only one month pregnant.

“Baby I’ll clean the plates so you can take a shower before we leave. I packed all of your stuff.” He pressed a long kiss to your cheek and caressed your tummy before ushering you to your shared bedroom.

In your head you replied with ‘Yes Daddy’ and he was just taking care of you, nothing sexual!

It’s going to be a torturous vacation.

The flight to Italy was smooth and comfortable, not that he would allow anything less. He used one of his private jets and demanded to land at the nearest airport to his villa so you could avoid getting road sickness.

Whenever work got crowded and pressuring, Harry escaped to Tuscany. He was eager to introduce you to his villa in his haven. The first time he invited you he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, not that he doesn’t usually stare,but Italy is precious and so were you.

You napped on the way to the villa, resting your head on Harry’s chest as he wrapped his arm around your body, not forgetting to leave kisses on your face.

Once you arrived, he thanked his chauffeur and tipped him using a checkbook before asking you to rest and hydrate as he unpacked the suitcases. Of course, you knew better than to offer your help.

Harry’s villa was surrounded by vineyards and acres of land, he decorated it with paintings picked from all around the globe and furniture that was designed by a local Italian artist.

In the center of the living room, he has a wall dedicated to pictures of you together, from trips to random candid shots around the house. Your lip quivered as you thought of the pictures that will soon join the collection but with a new member.

You followed Harry to the bedroom and leaned against the wall watching him unpack your suitcase even though you’re capable of doing it. You approached him slowly and pressed your body to his back, allowing your lips to linger over his shoulder blade.

“I felt that something was different but it was just my baby love.” He discarded the items in his hands and turned around to wrap your body around his.

“Do you want me to help—“

“No. You know how I feel about this. Leave it to me.” His voice was stoic and straightforward, the same one he used around the office.

“What is this suitcase anyway, I haven’t seen it before.” You pointed to the unfamiliar suitcase that you first saw at the penthouse.

“It’s yours.” He stepped aside to reveal a wide range of summer clothes still in their tag, along with different types of bikinis, all being luxury brands.

“Harry! What is this?” You searched through the full suitcase, gasping at the price on the tags. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been with your fiancée because you still haven’t come around to how much he spends on clothes. Let alone on you.

“Thought you’d want to try on new stuff while we’re here and we’re going swimming…” Harry loved to spoil you no matter what the item was. Though he never told you, he gets some sort of thrill or ego boost whenever he sees you wearing clothes that he picked out himself and paid for. Call him him weird, obsessive, or even crazy but his head becomes filled with unholy things when you wear what he chose. As for the bikinis…. With your small bump or at least the knowledge of knocking you up.

May the lord have mercy on him.

There was nothing for you to say except a ‘thank you’, followed by a ‘no need’ from him and a forehead kiss. As you glanced around the room, you noticed that he arranged everything in its place leaving nothing for you to unpack.

“Sweetheart you should start getting ready we’re spending the day on our yacht.” He shouted from the bathroom where he was making sure that all your skincare and toiletries were present.

Harry always referred to things as yours and his, even though everything was paid for with his money, not yours. The sentiment of it made you feel warm.

You glanced at all the pieces Harry bought till your eyes landed on a skimpy bikini that would barely cover your breasts or pussy…

You smiled to yourself as you placed it aside and grabbed a towel to shower. The teasing game between you and Harry was never-ending. You acted like cave people around each other when one of you was half-naked or just looking yummy.

If you were still trying to conceive, you and Harry probably wouldn’t have left the villa not that he isn’t all over you now, because boy he is.

If he wants to wear a ‘Daddy’ shirt then he might as well preach it.

It wasn’t long before you found yourself relaxing on the yacht, as you went through your beach bag to fetch the essentials. A beige dress with a simple cut near the breast area hugged your body as you hid the revealing bikini underneath it.

“Babes, is the SPF with you?” You lifted your eyes upward only to be met with your shirtless fiancée, his arms raised on the doorway and body leaning forward. The shorts were barely hiding anything, his hips were on display and if he tugged the fabric slightly, everyone would be graced with the sight of his cock.

He had an amused smile on as he lazily chewed gum and taunted you with knowing eyes from behind his Gucci sunnies. Handsome motherfucker. You might as well ovulate again right there and then even if you’re already pregnant.

You offered him a nod and tossed the cream in his direction, but why not give him a show too?

You took off your dress in front of him and everyone who was nearby.

The bralette was strapless and tight on your breasts prompting your cleavage to appear plumper, as for the bikini bottom it was a thong.

You kept a casual attitude around him as you folded your dress aside and unpacked the beach bag while sparing him glances to delight in the sight of his clenched fists and tense body.

He was a soft dominant in bed, he disliked all that ‘punishment’ stuff. Pleasure to him is something sacred, if you want to get spanked then ask for it, and if you want soft lovemaking then you should ask for it too.

You weren’t the only ones around, after all this was an area known for welcoming the wealthy so it wasn’t a surprise when you noticed the few other yachts positioned near you.

“Put it on me.” Harry handed you the sunscreen as he stood in front of you giving you a stern look. Whenever he used this facial expression with you, you knew that he was feeling it.

You squirted a small amount of the creamy SPF before lathering it all over his chest and abs, your hands were completely covered as you glided them over his skin.

His body towered over you and you could feel his gaze on you even though he had sunglasses on. He was enjoying your hands all over his hard abs especially when you slowed down your pace to take in the sight in front of you.

Would it be so bad to drop on your knees in public?

“The way you’re rubbing shows me that you’re desperate sweetie.” You avoided responding verbally and instead raised your face to taunt him with a wicked smile as your hands tortuously massaged his skin before reaching his hips and giving extra attention to the fern tattoo. With each glide, his shorts got looser and looser, his happy trail was on display, and when you glanced down you got a peek at his cock by toying with the waistband.

“Should I go for the biceps too?” You put on an innocent act, which he didn’t mind at all. He nodded at your request and turned around to give you a better angle.

“You should sit down, I can’t reach you.” He was taller than you by some good inches and that didn’t stop you from reaching him, but of course, you wanted to play your little game which he complied with.

He took a seat on the sunbathing lounge chair, with his legs spread dangerously. Instead of beginning to apply the cream on his biceps, you abruptly seated yourself on his thigh, not forgetting to let out a subtle moan at the friction or pretend to fix your position by going back and forth on his thigh.

Again, he did not seem fazed by your actions. Not because he’s unimpressed but because he adored it when you were all over him, and it showed when he wrapped his entire arm around your body, giving you easier access to his biceps but also making sure to knead your ass with his palms.

You had to use both hands to rub one bicep and still, it took longer than expected. The more he kneaded your ass, the more his bicep flexed making you drool over his body and push yourself more against him for friction.

“I thought I told you to put protection not ride my thigh.” His voice was delicious, yet so near to your ear which didn’t help your current situation.

“I’m not! Just getting comfy…” You lied to his face and continued to rub the sunscreen on his muscles. His face was inches away from yours trying to intimidate you in a good way. You always get flustered when stared at for too long, and Harry knows how to play his game.

“I can feel the moist and warmness on my thigh.” Your hands stopped gliding at his words, you knew better than to lie, he had you memorized like the back of his palm.

He slowly guided your cream-covered hand to his chest area and moved it along his skin back and forth, his alibi was seeking sun protection but his real motive was to get you riled up.

“You could lie to anyone except the person who made you pregnant.”

Playing dumb was your method. You delighted in touching his skin and toned muscles before asking him to do the same to you. You settled on your stomach, enjoying his calloused fingers running all over your back and shoulders. And of course, you offered him moans.

“You’re in for it sweetheart.” He warned as he headed off inside not even attempting to hide his visible hard on.

Too bad he left before you took off your bikini…

An hour later, you left your initial spot and sailed ahead basking in the cool wind and warm summer sun that didn’t have you begging for winter. Harry brought you refreshing drinks, water bottles, and plates of fruits.

He had switched his attitude and turned into a sweetheart, It wasn’t on purpose, but it’s how he is. He turned on the autopilot and excitedly propped himself near you. He opened a water bottle and handed it to you, asking you to have some sips despite doing that earlier as well.

Then he gave you some cherries and peeled an apple with deep focus, feeding it to you with his hand, before rubbing on your stomach and inquiring if little peanut is causing a fuss.

He rested his head on your tummy, as his lips lingered there for a while offering love to you and peanut with his fingers dancing along your hips and thighs. You swiped your hands through his hair, giving him head scratches making him a satisfied fiancée.

A straw hat covered your face from the sun, and the sound of the waves muffled Harry’s voice. He spoke to your tummy but none of the words reached your ear, but it’s fine since he seemed to have a little private moment with Peanut.

As much as he wanted to bask in this blessing, his job was to check on you. He lifted himself up barely fifteen minutes later and reapplied sunscreen to your arms, insisted on pouring water over your head because the sun was out and about, and fed you an apricot.

Most of the time his gestures are nonsexual but oh well he’s a gentleman, your gentleman, and everything he did turned you on. After leaving you alone earlier, you ogled him as his hands steered the wheel and sailed the yacht. Obviously, his biceps contracted which did not help at all since you recalled rubbing lotion on them. He even placed the pilot hat on his head.

His curls fell all over his face, and his back muscles flexed with every steer of the wheel. The weather was amazing yet the heat followed you here in the form of your fiancée.

There was nothing you could do except spread your legs, as you observed him doing regular things that got you frothing at the mouth.

And now his extensive care and dotting made it much worse. You know that other men do not act the way he does nor take care of their pregnant women this way, you’ve seen some bad examples.

“Are your muscles knotted? Do you want to get up?” His voice pulled you out of your dirty thoughts, showing his concerned face.

“All good.” You smiled at him and pulled his face in for a kiss.

Another yacht approached yours blasting loud music interrupting your little bubble. It was the same yacht that was next to you before sailing, many young adults were on board probably enjoying their euro summer.

Harry got up to take a look scoffing at how loud the music was, they were dancing in bikinis and shorts, distributing drinks, and singing along with the song.

“Scusatemi, potreste abbassare il volume della musica per favore?” He shouted to the group of girls whose yacht was in close proximity.

“Si Bello!” One of the girls replied before sending a flying kiss his way making the others erupt in giggles.

That was your cue to get up. You don’t have much knowledge on the language but you don’t need translation to know that she’s flirting with your fiancée, who was fucking smiling.

You walked toward him placing your arms around his body and waved to the group of girls as if your blood wasn’t boiling. Their faces dropped upon seeing you as they sent a fake smile your way.

“H, let’s continue sunbathing.” As soon as he heard you whispering, he knew you were off. You only used this tone with him when you were mad or up to something devilish. It wasn’t a suggestion as well.

“Of course babe.” He guided you to the huge lounge chair but instead of helping you to lie down, it was the other way around. He didn’t object nor open his mouth and from the look of mischief on your face, he won’t be questioning anything.

You straddled his lap positioning your pussy right over his crotch and inched your face closer, catching his lips in a kiss. You rested your hand on the side of his neck, deepening the kiss as you moved back and forth on his clothed cock.

“Wha—what’s gotten into you?” He panted in between kisses, with his hand wrapped around your ass.

“Am I not allowed to kiss my fiancée?” You didn’t part your lips from his and spoke in a muffled voice.

Ah, so you were feeling possessive.

“Anytime you want babe, you own me.” He played along by kneading your ass and pushing his tongue further into your mouth. Your jaw grew sore from how feverish the kiss was but Harry became relentless.

Your body leaned backward from the intensity of his kiss, and his hands roamed your body, gripping your skin tightly before moving on to another area. He moaned into your mouth and pressed his hard on to your pussy.

You knew that they were watching and that was exactly what you wanted. You didn’t care if you appeared petty or crazy. He was yours.

“You’re such a needy slut.” He had to pull you away by wrapping his hand around your throat. Your lips were swollen and the look of mischief was still painted across your face.

“Look who’s talking, weren’t you flirting around with those girls?” You tilted your head to the side, relishing the way his facial expression changed.

“Watch the words that come out of your mouth dove.” His grip against your throat tightened and the warning in his eyes was serious.

“Or what? You’ll leave and party with them?” His stern look revealed his clear irritation that he could no longer hide.

“You’re getting too mouthy. Up.” He snaked a hand to the back of your thighs, lifting you both in the process.

Again, he isn’t a man who delights in “punishment”. If he wants to be a tease or rough then so be it, he doesn’t have to call it a punishment. The one thing that he would never do is embarrass you in a situation where he is aware of your feelings, and right now you’re jealous.

He didn’t dismiss that, he’ll prove you wrong inside but for now, he has his lips attached to the nape of your neck, while his hand wanders between your hips and bum. Of course, the girls who fancied him were looking as he was all over you.

Once you were in the clear and away from prying eyes, in the safety of the bedroom inside the yacht, Harry switched his demeanor.

He guided you to the bed where you sat at the edge admiring your annoyed fiancée who gave you a promise to destroy you with his eyes.

He stood in front of you, his crotch so close to your face as he raised your chin upward. A curl had fallen on his forehead but it didn’t help in erasing his irritation.

The smell of the summer breeze and salt penetrated the room but was not enough to dismiss his cologne. He swiped his finger over your bottom lip, as your eyes ogled him starting from his pumped chest down to his chiseled abs and toned V line, right where your eye level was.

“I’m going to ask you questions and you will answer in full sentences.” His voice, low and raspy indicated that he was not up for silly games.

“Yes Sir.” You shamelessly tried to take his finger inside your mouth but he didn’t allow it. Instead, you kept gazing at his hips where the shorts were loose.

“Who’s your fiancée?” You felt his engagement ring digging into your neck as he wrapped his hand there.

“You Sir.” You answered without hesitation hoping to get away with squirming your thighs.

“Who owns you?” His pupils darkened and his voice got deeper.

“You sir.”

It stayed this way for a few other questions…

“Who worships you?”

“Who got you pregnant?”

“Who loves you endlessly?”

All of them were followed by a weak ‘You Sir’ as you rubbed your thighs together feeling aroused more than usual just from his veined hand over your throat (and the questions).

“Then why are you being a brat?” He questioned with his face inches away from yours, noses bumping together while you looked into each other’s eyes. His were dark and hungry, yours were bright and needy.

You shrugged your shoulders, avoiding a verbal response, pretending to be clueless about your attitude. Honestly you just couldn’t help it, your blood boiled when you saw how they eyed him.

“Maybe some cock will refresh your mind?” He tugged down on his shorts revealing his thick girth, red at the tip and already leaking precum.

He always knew what game to play, where to touch, what to say and how to make you surrender to him. The fact is that as much as he was obsessed with your pussy and body, you were equally infatuated with his cock.

There was no such thing before Harry, but when it came down to him everything changed, including your perspectives on dicks.

“Poor baby, is that what you want? Craving some cock to make your brain mushy?” He cooed in a mocking tone as he tapped the tip on your bottom lip, not giving you a chance to take it inside your mouth.

You stuck your tongue out at him to show him that you need it, but he definitely had other plans in his mind. His pre cum leaked on your lips and dribbled down your chin, your tongue instinctively tried to lick his cum but he knew you’d try and do that. Instead, he beat you to it and picked them up with his finger observing the subtle pout in your lips when he took them away.

“Hmm so good.” He brought his finger to his mouth and licked it clean to tease you with outrageous moans.

“Please, let me suck on it.” Your eyes darted to his veiny hand that was wrapped around his thick swollen length that is asking to be sucked.

“You do need it… maybe it’ll fix that brain of yours.” He caressed your cheek with his knuckles as one last gentle moment before coming closer, and forcing your mouth open to push his cock in.

His eyes rolled back almost immediately at the warmth of your mouth, you didn’t complain nor protest, you got to work right away as you went down on your knees with your hands going up and down on his thigh, then to the base of his cock where you cupped his balls.

Your warm mouth was heaven to him. For some reason, sinful thoughts began to flood his mind uncontrollably as he imagined you going down on your knees a few months from now as he looks down to get a view of your ruined sight, with his cock in your mouth and your big bump protruding.

“Fuck’s sake! I gave you my seed yet you still get down on your knees like a little slut for my cum.” He groaned audibly, rocking his hips back and forth enjoying the feeling of your tongue licking his cock from the base to the tip.

Whenever you gave Harry a blowjob, you had to use both of your hands. That’s how big he was. One had would be wrapped around the base while the other stroked the shaft and eased it into your mouth where your cheeks would hollow around it, as you swirl your tongue and push his length as far as you can.

The sound of your gagging was music to his ears, let alone the mischief in your eyes as you looked up to him while removing his cock from your mouth to allow the mix of saliva and pre cum to dribble down your chin, before you take him in again and moan as you squirm your thighs and shift.

“Such a good warm hole.” He patted your hair as if you were his pet while he rocked his hips faster in your mouth and smirked at the way his abs flexed.

You were absolutely insatiable when it came to his cock. You already sense the soreness in your jaw but you couldn’t care less. Your head kept bobbing on his cock back and forth, you wanted to drain the cum from him and from the look on his face, it is no secret that euphoria is hitting him.

“Fuck my mouth harder Mr. Styles.” You let out his cock from your mouth with a pop, only to reveal your scratchy voice due to his cock hitting the back of your throat. You smiled back at him with your face covered in cum and saliva, as if you were daring him.

“You won’t be speaking for days.” His hand roughly grabbed a fistful of your hair before thrusting his cock harshly inside your mouth, he maintained a vigorous pace of thrusts as the sound of intense gagging filled the room.

His hips snapped roughly as he treated your mouth like a vagina. Thrust after the other with no remorse, feeling his entire body light up from the heat of your mouth and the skill of your tongue.

Your nails dug into his thighs leaving crescent marks on his skin. Tears were streaming down your cheeks due to his roughness, the sting from his grasp on your hair intensified the feeling of pain and pleasure.

“Oh fuck!” He threw his head back as your nose bumped his happy trail. Everything felt overwhelming. Your tongue didn’t stop for one second, the veins along his girth were caressed by it, let alone his sensitive tip that leaked drop of cum that you happily choked on.

He murmured words of praise followed by a warning of his close release, his grip on your hair got loose as all the blood in his body rushed to his cock.

You broke a new record for holding your breath but it was definitely worth it, the furrow of his eyebrows, parted lips and Adam’s apple that protruded from throwing his head back and swallowing down his throat.

His cock twitched followed by the most lustful moan as he released his load, it flooded your mouth seeing as you had him fully tucked inside. You choked on the large amount of cum and pulled him out to properly swallow what he gave you. Harry was observing your movements making him release even more. Your entire face was covered with cum, some drool and saliva dripped down from your chin landing on your thighs. The cum you attempted to swallow leaked from the corners of your mouth as your hand gripped Harry’s cock tightly, aiming to milk it completely as you stuck your tongue out to not waste any drop.

“That’s it baby…drink it all up.” His sensitive tip oozed more cum into your open mouth, twitching in your hand when you squeeze at the base.

You kept swallowing his seed for what felt like ages, he released a huge load and you got dizzy from thinking about how he gave you such loads almost everyday. No wonder you get pregnant.

“Good girl, swallowing it down your tummy?” You couldn’t reply nor hum, sure you could nod but you were far too gone. After all you’re both equally obsessed with each other.

Your mouth stayed open for a while as Harry swiped his thumb over the corner of your mouth, before bringing it inside for you to suck on.

“Can’t waste any drop baby.” He caressed your cheek lovingly while you attempted to lick your lips and any area that you forgot about. Harry’s low deep voice did things to your body, let alone the sight of his toned body that you were graced with.

There’s just something about your fiancée’s body.

A few moments later, Harry lowered himself to your level pressing a kiss to your temple as he snaked a hand to the back of your thighs to lift you up on the bed with one arm.

He placed you on your back gently before moving his lips all over your tummy down to your legs where kisses your scratched knees from going down on him.

“My pretty girl bruising her pretty legs for cum.” He murmured, rubbing his thumb on your ankle.

If he had kept moaning while you sucked him and ogled his muscled body, or even pumped more of his seed into your mouth, you probably would’ve came right there and then without him touching you.

The way his eyes closed as he bit his bottom lip and clenched his fist making veins protrude in his arm, just to hold back a scandalous moan will always be engraved in your mind.

But of course he did not hold back the moans. He’s too much of a slut to do that.

Your breathing was ragged as his hands explored your lower body, you were already too aroused and Harry just won’t get to the point. Your bikini bottom is definitely wetter than it would be if you had gotten into the water.

“What’s that baby?” He cooed, pressing his nose to your clothed (and extremely wet) pussy. He took a long inhale closing his eyes as his grip tightened on your thighs before opening his eyes again. His pupils had gotten darker.

“I could smell your leaking pussy from miles away. Are you that achy?”

He was mocking you.

It was no surprise that you got insanely wet from making him cum, he knows how easily you can get aroused from the simplest of things like seeing him naked or from his actions as a gentleman toward you.

Besides being feral and primal about breeding you (which he did successfully), he tends to have a certain affinity for smelling your wetness…

Perhaps it messes with his hormones, turns him on even more or he genuinely loves the smell which would be normal as he spends most of his free time between your thighs.

“Harry you know it hurts, just fuck me.” You whined throwing your head back, trying to ignore his devilish grin that tells you he’s up to no good.

“Oh I will darling but how about some questions first?” He took your bikini off so that you were both completely naked and bare for each other.

His muscular body towered over you making you feel safe in his embrace, his cross necklace dangled in front of your face and you couldn’t help but bring your hand forward to move the fallen hair strands from his face.

“Yes love.” You were not sure what these questions were but from the look in his eyes, you knew that you won’t be moving your legs for a few days.

His eyes took in your face features with a cheesy smile plastered on his face, the same one he has on when he tells you that he adores you. He inched his face forward till your noses bumped together and his cologne consumed your thoughts.

His hand slowly reached down to your inner thighs where he rubbed circles dangerously close to your cunt.

“Are you wet because… you wish I could breed you again?…” His eyes burned into yours, his body weight pressing on you.

“…because you sucked me off?” Your breath hitched in your throat when he inserted a finger inside your warm cunt, so that the only sounds heard were the calm waves, the beating of your hearts and the sound of your wet cunt being used.

“…or because you love the idea of being fucked by your fiancée while others want him?” He added in another finger, pushing them deep inside feeling how they got soaked instantly. He fucked them slowly in and out as his eyes raked your facial expression, and relished in the clenching of your warm cunt around his fingers.

“All of them.” You answered as quickly as you could before pouring all of your focus on his fingers, they were now three massaging your folds delicately. Your hands instinctively clung to his back, as you dug your nails into his skin.

“That’s my good girl.” He increased his pace and you knew that some of your wetness must have splashed the sheets. You pushed yourself against his hand for deeper access, making him spank your bum with his other hand.

“I need you inside of me please.” Your begging was frantic and rushed.

“Could never resist this cunt baby.” He pulled his fingers out, and glided his hand over your hips making your skin soaked with your own arousal, as he nipped on your neck (the more hickeys the better).

Heat radiated off your bodies that were intertwined in the best way one could imagine, but both of you needed more. Harry asked for reassurance before lining himself up with your entrance and pushing in slowly.

The first few moments of entering your cunt were better than the whole experience. The clenching of your walls, your warmness, tightness and the tiny whimpers in his ear as your foreheads touch was priceless to him.

It never mattered if the sex was soft or rough, it will always be love making to him.

Love,love,love.

“So fucking tight.” He groaned as he slowly thrusted himself inside your snug cunt, before stilling his hips and taking a deep breath to avoid cumming so soon.

“Full.” It was all you managed to say. Harry’s length could make you cry from how warm and full it makes you feel. Clenching around him is unintentional, it just happens yet you can’t help it. The pain and burn you feel at first made you drool at the mouth, you didn’t mind a little pain kink but whenever his tip pushes through your tight walls, your brain goes numb.

It was as if your cunt itself begged him to go inside. Deeper.

He continued to push himself in till your hips were against each other. You were back in your element, skin on skin, soft rocking, hungry kisses and euphoric feelings.

All the blood was rushing to your engorged clitoris that is growing more sensitive with every passing day, Harry raised your leg over his hip for a deeper angle that made you moan audibly.

His thrusts found a faster pace and you felt the veins on his thick length massage your velvet walls. The sound of wetness echoed in the room as he repeatedly hit your cervix.

“Don’t you ever doubt my love for you.” His tone was both a mix of anger and reassurance. He hated what you implied, how you thought for even a split second that he would look at someone else.

Your walls pulled him in even further with more clenching as you wrapped your legs around his hips and pressed the heel of your feet into his bum in an attempt to get him deeper (if that was even possible).

“I love you.” You whispered through short pants with your nails leaving fresh marks on his skin. His cock worked itself inside your snug cunt, in and out till you could feel him in your tummy, which he probably could too as he was glued to your body.

“Deeper please. Just want you inside.” Some teardrops fell down on your cheek from the pleasure and love you’re feeling and your need for him to be so deep inside. Whenever you had sex, Harry would fuck you so deep you’d feel him for days, yet still it doesn’t seem enough for you.

But his brain worked the exact same way in a repetitive mantra : deep inside y/n, deep inside y/n…

“Yes babylove, gonna leave you sore for a while.” Your bags always contained at least one lube bottle and a cream for soreness because well.. your fiancée is feral.

He picked up his speed with one hand balanced on the mattress and the other pressing on your throat right where his cock reached a few minutes ago.

“This cock made you pregnant. Isn’t that right baby?” His voice was straight out of an erotica book, but you couldn’t reply. You were simply lying down, taking his cock that is thrusting into you hard and fast with your eyes shut as you savored the blissful feeling.

The headboard banged against the wall as the sound of skin slapping filled the room and you almost forgot that you were out in the open on a yacht. Harry imprinted himself everywhere.

His cock fucking you roughly, his hand on your neck, the ache in your muscles, drool on your chin, old and fresh bruises on your skin, your engagement ring and the baby in your tummy.

You let out a string of curse words followed by short words in which you asked him to keep fucking you. The pressure on your neck loosened but only so he could use his hand to pull your face in for a passionate kiss.

“You own me baby. Never forget that.” He stilled his hips for a few moments before pulling himself out, only to thrust back in immediately knocking the breath out of your lungs.

He provided some attention to your perky sensitive nipples right as you stuck your tongue out at him, which he knew was an order to spit onto your tongue. A string of saliva fell from his mouth right into yours before he connected your lips again, moaning into each other’s mouths.

“I’m close.” Your clitoris was so sensitive and lately you’ve been cumming way sooner than you usually do. Your sweaty skin clung onto Harry’s as your orgasm washed over your body with one particular thrust to your cervix.

Harry followed upon hearing you moaning his name as he spurted hot cum inside your walls. The feeling of his seed flowing inside you was peak euphoria. You’re not sure if you could ever have him wear a condom again.

You bit his shoulder knowing how much he liked it but also because you lost your mind when he came inside your pussy. You felt his cum leak from where you were connected down to your thighs and onto the sheets.

“I love being stuffed by your cum.” You whispered a few moments later, earning a chuckle from him.

“Me too my love. Pussy’s made for me.” His fingers danced along your hips and slowly went down near your thighs where he swiped some of the cum that leaked, bringing it to your mouth. You immediately sucked on it and swallowed without hesitation.

“Too fucking greedy. Didn’t let me taste.” He pouted and pretended to be hurt before pushing his tongue inside your mouth.

His cum was still flowing inside your pussy, opting you to clench around his cock. He hissed from the pulsing and swatted your bum as a warning.

“Do you want me to pull out?” He whispered after a few minutes while kissing your temple.

“No just a bit more please.” You shook your head and pulled him closer.

“Whatever you want my love.” Staying inside your warm cum filled pussy was torture, and you knew that of course. His twitching did not go unnoticed but you loved it.

“Do you realise that i’m loyal to you only? I don’t want anyone else.” He murmured with his head resting on your breast.

“I know. You’re mine.” You swiped a hand through his hair before tracing his face with your fingers.

Getting jealous was a natural instinct, but at the end of the day you’re the one he fucks till he’s out of breath and of course you’re the mother of his child.

You’re his and he’s yours. It was as simple as that.

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[jyoongim]

Hello!

I would to request if its alright.

Prisoner Human Alastor x Police!Reader.

Alastor were captured by police and was sent to jail and Reader was a professional police also she is virgin because shes too focus on her job even when she was in colloge she never experienced it.

Sorry im bad at explaining but like they fucked in alastor cell in middle of the night because Reader was assign to watch Alastor since hes the biggest criminal in the town.

So llike i dont know how reader ended up in his cell ummm you can just make a reason for it since i dont know how she also inside his cell and getting fuck

So like Reader Hate love when alastor fuck out of her brain for the first time and Instead of Escaping from the jail Alastor just Find a Toy to play with.

This been on my mind pleaseeee im on my knees just for this😭😭

THIS IS MY BIRTHDAY GIFT TO YALL

WHOOP WHOOP THATS THE SOUND OF THE POLICE!!!!

It’s giving Mrs.Officer by lil Wayne hahahaha 

themes: 18+! NSFW, fem!reader, human!alastor (criminal of the LAW), so many laws and regulations broken, flirty banter? Jail cell sex, slight dub con, manipulation, subjugation, Loss of virginity, handcuffs, black mail, humiliation, gun play, mention of murders,  toxic relationship?

Five years ago

“Alastor DuPont, you are charged with the Bayou Murders! You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law…” you snarled at the man, as you slapped your handcuffs on his wrists, hoisting him up from the ground and forcing him to the cop car.

A strained laughed escaped his throat as he glanced over his shoulder at you, white teeth showing “never would have thought you would turn on me doll hehe. How unpredictable…I like that in my women ya know?”The lanky man grinned as you slammed the door, his breath fogging up the window. His deep brown eyes were wild as he maintained a calm composure. You narrowed your eyes at him “remember that it was me who put your ass behind bars”

His eyelids dropped, his crazed smile almost splitting his face “oooh doll I’ll never forget you”

Present Day

The prison was in an uproar when the higher ups found out who they’ll be housing.

Alastor DuPont.

New Orleans Most Beloved Radio Host…was a serial killer.

And you were the unfortunate soul who was his guard.

You looked over the paperwork of your new charge, brows furrowing as you read the arrest and charges.

Disgusting scrum! You thought with a sigh, setting down the papers on your desk.

”Why is he being transferred to my floor? Ain’t that conflict of interest?” You asked the Warden, an older man in his sixties.

You were the officer who had worked the Bayou Murders case, the officer who caught Louisiana's notorious killer and arrested him. 

You were just a rookie back then, fresh out of college and putting your all into your work. You were always at the office working late and gathering evidence. Your coworkers often joked that you had no sense of fun, always refusing to go out with them for dinners or parties. You were obvious to romantic advances and often threatened to write a report for misconduct for your male officers actions.

You often heard some of the male officers describe you as ‘Stuck-up, picky, prude’ but you didn’t see an issue with that.

You took your job serious, there was never room for error in this line of work.

You were very by the book. 

You saw everything in black and white.

Control and Regulations was your game.

Which is why you were tasked guarding some of the worst criminals in the city.

That now included Alastor.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Just treat him how you do the other inmates. You’re my best officer here to handle something like him” The warden said. You were the best for this. You took a deep breath “Fine, but I want a raise” you grumbled, smiling.

—————————————————————————————

“Inmate 666 rise n shine! put your hands through the open slot” you commanded. You stood outside the steel padlock door, waiting for hands to appear to be cuffed.

Nothing.

You knocked on the door again, a warning.

You huffed, “Last chance inmate! Or I’m dragging you out!”

Silence.

You cursed under your breath and looked to your backup guard

”open the door” he looked worried but followed your orders.

The security door whirled opened and you stood in the open doorway, you hand hovered over your baton as you approached the figure laying in bed, worst case he killed himself; best case…you kick his ass out of bed. “DuPont!” You sneered, kicking the edge of his bed. The figure stirred, groaning at the bright light pouring in the small room, he stretched, joints popping and made a move to sit upon the bed.

He rubbed his eyes, reached for his glasses and finally looked at you. A smile appeared on his face “Well i must have died and went to heaven” he drawled standing up.

You took a step back out of instinct. You scoffed at him ”you wish now put your shirt on and hands behind your back.”

Alastor let out a chuckle as he reached for his shirt.

Your eyes roamed his exposed skin. Smooth, skin riddled with scars. For a lanky bastard he had quite the muscle definition.

He was handsome, the type of guy you would have happily let chat you up.

But you were the truth behind that smile.

”so what pleasure am i owed that I get to see your pretty face after so long?” He asked like he was talking about the weather. You didn’t answer him as you locked the handcuffs and nudged him towards the open door to start walking.

———————————————————————————-

“You will be provided three meals a day. One hour of outdoors activities and you’ll have recreational if you earn good behavior, but i highly doubt that. Am I clear?” You ask as he stared at you with a stupid smile. You frowned “get that smile off your face DuPont.” He only smiled harder “I can’t help it. I enjoy being in your presence my dear” 

You leaned across the table, eyes hard as you got in his face.

”listen to me you irritating prick! In here I rule. You listen to everything I say and pray I am in a good mood to deal with your shit. I can make what remains of your life hell on earth. Do I make myself clear?” You hissed.

Alastor leaned back, an amused look on his face, shrugging “Crystal”

”Good”

You walked him back to his cell after he ate and uncuffed him. Walking out you slammed the door shut and waited to hear the lock before moving to make your rounds.

”I do hope you have a good night my dear” you hear him say as you walk down the corridor, ignoring him.

—————————————————————————-

Alastor sighed as he sat on his bed. A low chuckle escaped his throat. Oh how he missed you. 

When he met you five years ago, he knew you were the one for him. There was something about you that gave him a thrill. 

He admits he didn’t count on you being a police officer; you had fooled him flawlessly. 

His cock twitched in his pants. Those pretty eyes that once held warmth were ever so chilling. 

How he couldn’t wait to break that cold demeanor of yours.

He just had to bid his time and after all he had all the time in the world with you.

————————————————————————————-

You were focused on some paperwork when two male officers popped their heads in your office.

”hey a couple of us are going for a night out you coming?” Max asked with a smile as Danny was behind him with puppy eyes.

You didn’t even look up from your work “ill pass but maybe next time guys” you hear the groan before leaving.

You shook your head lightly as you finished filling in your notes.

You looked at your watch, it was almost time to patrol.

————————————————————————————-

Alastor could hear the footsteps of the two male guards that occasionally visited his floor.

”she never wants to hang out. Fucking bitch thinks she better than us or something?” A voice whined.

”oh you know how she is. Work on the brain. She wouldn’t be so strict if she loosened up a bit hahaha i would love to fuck that.”

Alastor grimaced. Disgusting trash 

He might have been a certified lady killer, but he was still a gentleman. And lowly scrum like them didn’t even deserve to think of you that way.

You were his.

And he’ll make sure of that.

A dark smile crept on his face just at the thought.

———————————————————————————-

It was fairly quiet tonight. 

You found yourself standing outside Alastor’s cell.

”You gone say something cherie or stand guard all night. I promise I have no intention of escaping.” He purred.

You frowned “I have nothing to say to you”

You heard him laugh “really? You had a lot to say five years ago”

He was baiting you, you knew this, but your temper was hot

”You are despicable you know that? You think you so smart, but you know something Alastor? You got sloppy. Tell me. Why? Why did you kill all them girls?” You hissed, now facing the door.

You hadn’t even realized his hands were out in the slot until his large hands grasped yours.

You tensed and went to tug your hands out of his, but he firmly kept a grip.

”why? What kind of question is that? The answer is simple.” His thumbs rubbed your hands.

”No the answer was stupid. You commited those crimes, killed those innocent women for pure fun? They should have sent you to the Ward.” You said angrily.

Alastor smiled, through you couldn’t see it

”Maybe but I’m completely in my right mind I assure you. The reason for all the mess? Simple…they weren’t you” he bent down to press his lips to your knuckles.

You ripped your hands back, eyes wide “you’re sick”

He hummed, rolling his eyes.

”doesn’t change how I feel about you darlin”

He was surprise to hear the lock to his cell and the door open to reveal you.

And you were angry.

Your face was balled into a frown “It was never about me! You think I would believe that shit!” Your hand pulled your gun, aiming it at him “You’re nothin’ but a liar and a killer. Ain’t no love in that dark heart of yours. You are incapable of love.” Your lip quivered slightly, giving way to your emotions under the glare you held.

Alastor walked up to you, right up to your gun pressing against his chest, his hands were up, but he was still craning his head down at you “is that what you tell yourself about me dear?” 

That sharp smile on his face, his eyes wide “then kill me. Pull the trigger and serve justice.”

His eyes were analyzing you. You were panting, chest constricted in your uniform, cheeks flushed with anger but your plump lips wobbled.

One of his hands gently wrapped around the gun, lowering it as he pressed against your body. The other taking hold of your chin.

He lowered his head til his lips were but a whisper away, ghosting yours lightly “What i feel for you darlin, love ain’t got nothing on it”

Your brain seemed to catch up with the situation you were in and you tried to reestablish control, but Alastor had already sunk his claws in you.

Your eyes widened when his lips slammed on yours, your hand with the gun whipped to hit him across the head, but he caught it and used the momentum of your body to twirl you around and pin your arm against your back, making you drop the weapon as you wince in pain.

His lips were at your neck, nose brushing against your ear

”never drop ya guard dear, didn’t they teach you that?” He taunted.

You struggled against him as he pushed you down on the small bed, pressing you down with his weight. 

You thrashed about, body filling with panic as you couldn’t throw throw him off you.

Alastor grunted as you kicked at him, narrowing his eyes as he pressed his full weight against you.

”easy doll easy. I ain’t gonna hurt ya. Well too much hehehe” his brushed his nose against yours, trailing his lips to kiss your cheeks and jaw.

With his hips fixed between your parted thighs, he pressed his hardening length against the softness of your covered mound.

Large hands cupped your breasts, and before long you heard a tear. Your eyes widened as the cold air met your chest and gasped asho Alastor quickly made work of your bra. He let out a hoarse groan as he kneaded the tender flesh, mouth wrapping around a perky nipple, causing you to gasp.

He nipped and tugged the soft nip before lavishing it with his tongue, like an apology for the harsh treatment. ”I knew you’ll have the prettiest pair of tits. So full and soft. I can’t wait to see them bruised up from my teeth”

You clenched your teeth as you tried to ignore the rather pleasant sensations running through you. With your gun somewhere, all you had was your physical strength. You might couldn’t overpower him, but you could use his weight against him.

Taking the distraction of Alastor focusing on sucking at your chest, you tightened your legs around his waist and used his relaxed posture to flip the two of you over. With your arms free, you pressed your arm into his neck, thighs holding his hips down as you tried to regain your composure.

You tried held your elbow into his throat, glaring at him as he just smiled up you.

Alastor lazily placed his hands on your hips as he raked his eyes over you.

You were disheveled, hair fizzy and face flushed. Your eyes were filled with uncertainty and another emotion. Your lips were swollen and your neck was slowly turning red. With your uniform ripped, your tits were fully exposed, nipples perked and littered with bites.

 You were beautiful 

“I am going to walk out of here and pretend this didn’t happen. You are going to stay right here until I close that door and lock it.” You said sternly, but Alastor wasn’t listening, he was grinding up into you slowly as he trailed a hand up your front, finger fondling with your ripped uniform. You went to slap his hands away when he cupped your breasts but the cold air that met your entire body made you freeze.

”That’s much better don’t you think?” He mused, fingers tapping your hips as he palmed your ass cheeks in full.

You quickly sat up, ready to get off him, when Alastor followed you up, arms locking you against him. He whispered in your ear, voice low and deep “oh you’re so precious. I can’t wait to fuck that tight pussy of yours baby” he kissed your shoulder as he pulled your panties to dip two fingers inside you.

You pushed at his chest, trying to shift your hips away but the motion made you fall back and you grunted as you fell to the floor.

Alastor sucked his fingers, moaning at the taste of you. He sat looking at you, grinning as he moved towards you. You scrambled back, wanting to put distance between the two of you, but Alastor long legs carried him to you and he wrapped a hand around ankle and dragged you back towards him, taking top mount to prevent your from flaring about like a fish.

Tears welled in your eyes as he quickly made work of his pants, freeing his weeping cock. You pressed your hands against his chest, which he took in one hand and held them over your head. He hummed a tune as he pressed his lips to your cheeks, peppering your face in kisses before locking his lips onto yours. You tried to jerk your head away but that didn’t deter him, as he bit down on your lips, crying out, your mouth was invaded by his tongue.

You barely had time to counter, when your breath hitched in your throat, feeling an unknown pressure between your thighs.

A staggered gasp turned into a pained cry as narrow hips thrusted up into you, sheathing his cock to the brim.

Alastor laughed into your mouth, licking at your teeth “Oooh? So I’m your first hehe I’m honored.” He slotted his mouth against yours as he snapped his hips against yours, wanting you to quickly grow accustomed to his brute pace.

The sound of sticky slaps and muffled moans radiated through the cell. Your legs rested on either sides of Alastor’s hips, shaking as he rocked into your body.

“What would the other guards think if they found out you let a dangerous killer fuck you? Hmm? This breaks so many laws baby. Hehe fuck you feel good. You take me so good ha! I knew you could.” A soft whimper bubbled out your throat. Your mind was fighting, but your body was welcoming the unwanted assault. 

Your tongue lolled out your mouth as Alastor’s cock dragged along your insides, making your back arched as he hit a nerve that had you moaning.

Your soft moans spurred the man on as he angled his hips, pounding you into the cold floor.

Oh how long he had imagined fucking you. You were like nothing he could have imagined. Your tight cunt clinged to his dick as he bullied it through your walls.

He caught sight of your discarded gun and grabbed it, resting the cool metal against your skin. Your eyes widened, body freezing despite the jolts from his hips.

His brows quirked when your cunt clenched “Scared or horny baby?” He chuckled darkly, leaning back onto his knees, pulling you with him. 

He let out a soft moan as you sunk down on him, uttering dirty praise and encouragement. “You gonna ride me baby? Hmm? You gonna let a killer stretch this pussy out? Ill make you feel so good baby” he rocked up into you, softly thrusting.

You rested your head into the crook of his neck, shaking as Alatsor’s hands rubbed your back. The gun slowly trailing up your skin. One hand tangled in the roots of your hair, pulling your head back, as you felt the tip of the gun at your chin.

Alastor cooed as he pulled you down into his thrusts, making your jaw clench “k-kill me bastard” you hissed,  eyes clenched feeling his cock bury into you with a wet squish.

Alastor’s body vibrated as he let out a laugh “Kill you? Oh darlin no. then there wont be a pretty face to look forward to see everyday. I have no desire to paint the walls red with your blood haha no I want to paint your walls white” 

You leaned into his body, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. Your fingers dug into his skin and out of anger for the onslaughter of pleasure you sunk your teeth into his neck.

Alastor’s cock twitched as his hips snapped into yours as a response. 

Fuck! He eyes rolled slightly into his skull “careful baby. I hate to put a baby in you so soon” he chuckled.

Then the light bulb went off in his head

On second thought… 

————————————————————————————-

You shouldn’t be doing this as much. 

This was so wrong! On so many levels. 

Many many violations. 

Hell you could lose your job!

You almost hoped that another guard would come by and see what was happening so you could get out of here…but that wasn’t going to happen.

This is your floor and yours alone.

”OooH fuuuuccck, p-please! don’t… stop” you whined, throwing your head back, body leaned back with your arms trying to support your body as Alastor rammed up into your pussy. You hadn’t given much thought to sex, but he must be what girls in college use to call ‘packing’. His dick felt like it was splitting you in two, hitting that spongey nerve just right.

The man let out a gruff laugh beneath you, one hand on your hip to bounce you on his cock and the other holding that stupid gun against your clit. The cool metal sending shocks through your cunt. ”Oh you’ve made such a mess darlin” he tsked, eyes focused on his cock disappearing into you. A frothy cream coated the base of his cock, making both of your inner thighs sticky.

“But you’re so pretty when you’re messy.” He smirked, tilting his head

”I-I hate you!” You cried as he pinched your clit, slowly drawing tight circles on the bud. He hummed, kissing up the column of your neck “But your cunt says otherwise” he purred as he started pulling you down harder into his thrusts. Your eyes rolled as loud moans and whines left your throat. You might didn’t realize, but you had been fucking him back since the very beginning.

All that pent up frustration and tightly bound moral code snapping the second his cock breached your virgin walls.

Your cunt fluttered around him as he sucked a tit into his mouth. He released the sore nipple with a pop,tonguing it as he watched your face distort with pleasure as he had you met his thrusts.

“You’re everything I imagined and so much more” he whispered. He couldn’t help but admire you like this.

You opened your mouth to say something snarky, but he caught your lips as he sped up his pace, swallowing your gasps as he hit the sweet spot that had you mewling.

He felt your cunt clench and contract, allowing him deeper access to nirvana.

“Don’t you wanna cum baby? Because i know i do fuuck! Be a good little slut for me baby” Alastor hissed, feeling his dick twitch.

Your orgasm must have been approaching because you started to push against him, hips trying to raise and get off his dick.

Oh you weren’t going anywhere.

A gasp escaped you, your eyes wide as he tightened his hold on your hips “N-no no no no Alastor stop! Dont!” You pressed your hands against his chest to try and lift off him, but to no avail.

He laughed in your ear wickedly ”you are going to cum on my cock whether you like it or not baby ”

He wrapped his arms around you, forcing you to take the full force of his thrusts, wanting to break you from his cock.

You whimpered, eyes clenching as you buried your head in his shoulder. Your orgasm hit you like a truck, making you tense and hips grind into his to instinctively ride out the pleasure 

“I’m cumming ooh fuck fuck fuck! Alastor!” You whined loudly, body slumping as you shook against him.

Alastor kissed your shoulder as your cunt fluttered, hips stuttering and with a groan he cummed inside you, pressing you down to take all his dick as he painted your walls.

His dick twitched before he pulled out of you, smiling as his cum slowly leaked out of you as you slipped off his lap, glaring at him as he smiled at you.

Your eyes widened as he pulled a small tape recorder from his pocket.

”I think your boss would be very surprised to hear you fucking a criminal heheh”

tears welled in your eyes as you reached for the device, but he held it out of reach, opting to grab your hair and pull you flush against his cum covered cock.

”but don’t worry my dear, no one will know your little secret…as long as you play nice” his teeth split through his smile as he tapped the tip of of his dick against your lips.

”After all I wouldn’t want to lose my assistant again after breaking her in finally don’t you agree?” He hummed as he pushed his dick into your mouth, sighing as you gagged around him.

“That’s my good girl”

He never forgot about you. 

How could he?

You were his favorite doll after all….

—————————————————————————————-

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#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #jyoongim #alastor smut #alastor x y/n #alastor hazbin hotel #human alastor x reader

[bangchansgirlsblog]

Heyyy, give me something angsty with Felix please🥰 like maybe she comes home really tired and he’s just mad about everything small and calls her clingy🙀 and they go to bed angry (really bad idea btw never do that‼️) and then in the morning she tries to avoid him bc she doesn’t want to seem clingy? Happy ending tho, I can’t take too much heartbreak🩵

By my side.

Warnings: Yelling and crying.

Paring: Felix x Reader.

This is my first Felix story and I messed it up lol. Anyways. Enjoy 🩷

**

Y/n slowly removed her shoes at the door trying not to make a sound. Her body was aching and she was extremely exhausted. She moved like a sloth as she put away everything; her coat, her bag, etc.

When she heard the sound of banging dishes she knew her boyfriend, Felix, was home from his schedules.

Never in her life did she ever think she would be so irritated by his presence. She thought she would come home to a quiet house, she really wanted to be alone since work was so tiring.

"Oh! Hey my love," Felix face lit up when he saw his girlfriend walk through the living room. He quickly hurried around the counter to give her a kiss in which she returned.

"Heyy," she said trying to be as energetic as him but completely failed. Her chest was tight and all she wanted to do was cry.

"What's the matter?" He frowned when he noticed her little pout, "how was work?"

His hands automatically land on her waist trying to sooth the not's on her back. He cringed at how stiff she was and automatically knew she wasn't in a good mood.

"Can I have some alone time babe," she shrugged his hands off and started to make her way to their room.

"Did something happen?" Felix frowned as he quickly followed behind. She let out a frustrated sigh seeing he was still going on. He heard the sigh and was a little hurt by it but decided to push it to the side and make sure she was okay. That was what mattered right now.

"Nothing, I just want to be alone Lix-"

"I made us brownies! We can eat it with ice cream and chocolate-"

"Felix! For the love of God I said it's enough! Leave me alone. You're being clingy." She screamed and slammed the bathroom door in his face. He quickly took a step back in disbelief. He was hurt and it was so obvious.

His heart ached. He didn't know what to do but stand there hearing her soft sobs. Should he say something? Should he wait outside? Should he leave?

He was overthinking it. His hands were shaking and tears filled his eyes. She never yelled at him. Never did she even try to tell him off. This was all new to him. Was she getting tired of him? He thought.

Meanwhile on the other side, Y/n's tears were streaming down her face. She felt disgusted and guilty. Felix didn't deserve any of that. She knew it, he was just trying to help.

How could she let a miserable day at work affect her home life? Her relationship? Her thoughts became foggy as she sat there. All she could do was cry and so she cried until she finally fell asleep on the cold, hard tiles.

**

The frantic knocks on the door were what woke her up. Her head was banging and she was freezing. She looked over at her phone and saw it had been an hour and a few minutes. All she could hear was Felix's voice in distress calling out for her.

He sounded weak, worried and tired. What had she done? She quickly got off the floor and opened the door to see what was going on.

When the door opened Felix pulled her into his arms. He was so scared that she might have passed out or did something to herself since she had been locked in for an hour.

"Are you okay my love? Don't ever do that again to me! I was so scared something might have happened," he told her off but still managed to keep her in his arms.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you," she whispered, "I know you were just looking out for me and you were worried. I love you babe," she tightened her grip around his waist as she hid her tears.

"Hey, look at me," he slowly put his finger under her chin. "We all have bad days, I know you didn't mean any of it. Okay?" She nodded, "stop crying my love, you need to talk to me and don't shut me out. Please?"

"I don't know what I would do without you," she whimpered.

"Well first off, you wouldn't be able to reach the top shelves..." he trailed off and smiled at her little laugh. He loved her laugh. Her laugh made him feel warm and happy. All he wanted was for her to be happy.

"You're so silly-"

"Yeah but you love it," he pecked her lips and helped wipe her tears, "should we go cuddle and eat the brownies now?"

"Yes please, I was actually craving them when I was in there,"

"My poor baby, go lay down and I'll be back in a bit," he let go of her and made his way to the kitchen where he got busy.

Y/n sat in their cozy bed trying to figure out how she would explain to Felix what was going on and she knew he was not going to let it go unless she told him and so she did.

#skz imagines #skz comfort #skz x reader #skz angst #skz fluff #skz x y/n #skz x you #skz stay #bangchansgfblog #felix fluff #felix x reader #felix x y/n #stray kids felix #lee felix

[sohnric]

millennium bug – e. sohn

pairing: eric sohn x fem! reader

genre: 90s au, twenty-five twenty-one au, brother's best friend au, childhood friends au, fluff, slice of life, coming of age. older brother! sunwoo. essentially just eric being baek yijin. oct-nov scenes inspired by weak hero class 1. no plot just vibes im sorry

warnings: minimal swearing and thats all lol

word count: 19k

a/n: posting a fic for a new fandom is always so scary pls be nice to me deobiblr bc im literally abt to cry. also yes i am calling this a 2521 au bc the plot is so heavily inspired it might just be one. a special thank you goes out to @csenke for dragging me into stanning this group i am enjoying myself 🤞

there are some pros and cons to not having friends growing up. cons: you're always forced to tag along with your brother and his group wherever he goes. pros: his childhood best friend is kind of hot.

JUNE OF 1999

Being Kim Sunwoo’s younger sister is no bed of roses sometimes.

Sure, you get the occasional excitement of having him bring you rollerskating with you down the hill or the ever so rare moments of him defending you in front of your mother when you two have done something wrong (while never saying he was in on the bad act as well, of course), but more than often, you are met with his disgusted looks and insults whenever the two years older boy passes by your room and casually bangs at the door just to spite you.

His snarky looks are especially ones to remember. Maybe it’s because he offers them to you often– much like in this very moment, completely unprovoked, and completely not by your fault.

“But mum–”

“I already told you, Sunwoo,” your mother looks at him with a stern look in her eye, the one that makes chills run down your spine, “you can go if you take Y/N with you.”

“But nobody’s bringing their sister! Mum, come on–”

“Take it or leave it, young man.”

And see, your brother may be 19 years old, but he’s still in need of getting permission to leave the house if it includes an overnight stay. It’s an unspoken rule he always follows, since he’s usually granted the right to leave, but the result of his conversation was different than what he expected this time. And see, you may be just two years younger than him (one year left until you are an adult), but even though your mother is too busy to take care of you and entertain your slowly adultling self on most days because of her highly demanding job, she always makes sure that you don’t stay alone for long, and that’s exactly why (you realize, contrary to your brother) she insists on making you tag along on Sunwoo’s trip to the beach house with his friends.

The male grunts and turns on his heel, not giving your mother another response– and with this, you know she won. And that means you’ll have to pack your bag soon, because you know that there’s no way Sunwoo would miss going to the beach house with his friends– even if it meant making his little sister tag along.

And sure enough, Lee Juyeon’s minivan pulls up into your driveway only a few hours later, and the sound of the honking outside is enough for your older brother to aggressively drag you outside of the house, shutting the door behind you and hollering an angry “Bye mum!” to your mother. Your figure is handled with the least amount of care possible as you’re thrown towards the white van, the door opened and 5 heads already peeking out with expecting eyes, waiting for your brother’s arrival.

“My mum made my stupid sister go with me, so I hope we have space for one more,” Sunwoo huffs as he throws his bag into the trunk, slamming it with more force than was necessary (boy does he know how to throw a scene), an encouraging voice of none other than Juyeon– the driver himself– landing in your ear. 

“Sure, just hop in!”

With that, your feet finally unglue themselves off the ground and bring you into the vehicle. You’re familiar with his friends– since a scenario like this hasn’t happened for the first time and you had to spend your fair time with Sunwoo’s circle growing up, mainly because you never really had many friends yourself. You’re not close with any of them, though, and you’re sure you haven’t seen half of them for ages. 

Lee Juyeon is the responsible one of the group. You’re comfortable with the fact that he’s the driver, since you’re not entirely sure if you’d trust any of the other men in this space behind the wheel (you fear the day your brother gets a driver’s license. You'd bet a million dollars that he’ll die while driving recklessly one day). Next to him on the passenger’s seat is Choi Chanhee, his best friend, carrying a map in his hands and twirling it in all possible directions to get his friend on the right track. In the three-seat behind those two is Ju Haknyeon, Ji Changmin and your brother himself, and in the very back of the whole van, almost in the trunk, you’re sat next to Eric Sohn– your brother’s childhood best friend.

“Hi guys,” you offer a greeting to all of them, settling into the uncomfortable leather seat (that’s peeling off, just by the way), watching as the rest of the men pay you no mind and ignore your voice, falling into a comfortable conversation with each other.

Sighing, because this always happens– your brother gets too annoyed because he has to bring you with him all the time, and you imagine his friends aren’t fond of the fact either– you settle deeper into the seat and cross your hands on your chest, looking outside of the window. You can’t imagine enjoying your trip now, since you feel like you’re a nuisance, a child they have to take care of (yes, it embarrasses you just the tiniest bit, you have to admit. Although, you do enjoy getting out of the house from time to time), and the fact that your feelings were probably more than justified and also true has you pouting, an unsatisfied feeling weighing at your lungs.

“Hi,” a voice resonates from your side, the sight of a smiling Eric peering at you taking you off guard. You didn’t expect anyone to react to your greeting– not so delayed anyway– and the sight of your brother’s best friend carrying on in the conversation with you has you shocked beyond belief. “Excited?”

Finding yourself hum in agreement– how much you are still excited for the pool and for the sun, you’re not really sure– and although you are upset, something about his open and nice demeanor has you visibly relaxing, the sparkles inviting themselves back into your eyes. “I’ve never been to the beach,” you admit, seeing Eric gasp at you in surprise.

“Really?” he asks. “I go every year with my parents.”

“Well,” you hum, “you know how my mother is…” you sigh, chewing on the inside of your cheek. It’s easier to joke about it than to actually let the fact get to you– with your mother being the main news anchor, she is too busy to actually go on trips and form bonds with her own children sometimes. That’s why you spent most of your childhood at Eric’s family’s house in the first place– this is what made you the closest with Sunwoo’s same aged friend. His parents were nice enough to let you stay over and have sleepovers whenever your mum had to leave suddenly and take week-long trips abroad, or have emergency shifts during late evenings. 

Eric hums, sympathizing with you. “Well, at least you get to experience it now!”

“Yeah,” you awkwardly nod, playing with the hem of your jean shorts. It’s the shorts you made yourself by cutting the legs off your favorite pants after you grew out of them and they got too short, and they’re starting to look a little worn-out now. Maybe you should beg your mum to get you some new clothing.

The conversation between the boys grows in volume, doing nothing to help you to relax in the crowded vehicle. You can’t really find a place to fit yourself in and talk, the topics too unfamiliar for you and the feeling of not even being welcome in the discussion sitting heavy on your chest, when a finger bears itself to the flesh of your thigh, making you snap your head around to gape at the source of the contact. Eric looks at you with a boyish grin, sparkles evident in his eyes.

“Wanna see something?” he asks.

“Sure.”

The male digs around his backpack, hands searching through the contents of his bag for only a couple of seconds– since he’s the neat one, contrary to your messy brother– before he takes out a small gadget: a square with a little screen on top, a silver, circular button space sitting big in the very middle of the device. Eric throws the thing into your lap, smiling when you take it into your hands and examine it with curious eyes.

“Have you seen one before? My dad got it for me last week,” he boosts, satisfied with your reaction to it. 

Your mother’s job pays quite well– meaning that you usually have the latest gadgets, the latest trends– but if you’re being honest, you haven’t seen one of these in real life before. Yes, you caught a glimpse of an ad for it in the town center, on one of the big billboards while passing by to get to school in the morning, so you know that it’s an MP3 player, but still; this was your first time touching one and examining it in real life. 

“How does it work?” you ask, watching as the boy scoots from his seat to the middle one, so he is now sitting directly next to you, before he takes out wired headphones from the first department of his backpack and turns the little square over in his hands, finding where the jack goes.

“You put those in,” he says, plugging in the headphones, “and then you press this…” he explains, taking the device out of your hand and pushing on the power button for a few seconds, “and then it should play.”

Watching him with expecting eyes, the boy finally puts the MP3 player back into your hold. Then, his fingers swiftly put the respective earphones into your ears– like you’d do to a little kid that has no idea how they work, making you a little flushed at the action– and after that, you’re left with the sound of an unfamiliar song playing in your ears, making the sound of the chatter in the van completely tune out. Eric keeps on watching you, a sense of pride in his eyes as you nod at him, all excited with the new explory, before he takes one of the earphones out of your ear, grinning.

“Cool, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “The song is good,” you dumbly say, watching as the boy next to you pridefully nods at the compliment, resting his back against the car seat. 

“It’s the H.O.T album. My dad says they’re good,” he mumbles, moving the headphone he took from you and placing it into his ear, making you nod at him in acknowledgement. The action has your insides bubble with disappointment, thinking that the fun is over as you reach for the other earphone as well, offering it to the male.

Eric looks at you with a shocked pout, shaking his head. “No, we can share!” he says, pointing towards your ear. “If you want, of course.”

The action has you smiling, a shy nod escaping out of you as you reach and put the earphone back into your ear, letting yourself fall deeper into the car seat, listening to the song from Eric’s MP3 player. You’re grateful for his presence– he didn’t have to keep up a conversation with you. He could ignore you, just like the rest of his friend group always has. Maybe it was something about the two of you growing up together that always made the boy at least a bit more affectionate towards you than the rest.

You spend the car ride to the beach house with Eric leaning on your side, listening to music and his occasional blabbering about how his previous days went. 

Somehow, you're glad the seat beside him was the only vacant one when you arrived to the vehicle.

YOUR SEVENTH BIRTHDAY, 1989

You don't quite remember when you met Eric for the first time, if you’re being completely honest. The first memory you have of him is of your seventh birthday party, although you’re almost certain the boy’s been present at some point of your life before– at one point, you think you saw a picture of him and Sunwoo, two chubby toddlers, watching you as you laid on a blanket on the ground somewhere in your photo album. As far as you’re concerned, he may as well have been there when your mother brought you back from the hospital– although you think he must have been too young for that back then.

The first memory you have of Eric Sohn is the day you turned seven– a gloomy, sad day that in the moment, you prayed you wouldn’t have to remember in the first place.

It was already established that while your brother is the social butterfly, you don’t have a big friend group. Actually, you could count the number of your friends on one hand, and since the amount wasn’t as big, your mother allowed you to invite them all over to your house to celebrate your birthday with you. 

She baked a cake, she decorated the living room, hell, she even took a day off from work– something you deemed special, for it doesn’t happen often– and as you sat on the floor of your living room, the cake standing proud on the small coffee table, waiting for your friends to arrive, you hummed a song under your breath, the clock slowly passing the time you agreed for them to come over and celebrate.

At first, you didn’t mind it– everybody gets late sometimes, it’s okay. It was just a birthday party, and you had a lot of time. Not everything had to be set on schedule.

But the closer the clock moved to being one hour, than two after the time your friends were supposed to come, you grew worried. Your mother’s nervous pacing around the living room and her heavy sighs as she sat next to you on the floor, smiling at you in what you can only explain as sad way made you more and more anxious about the fact that you only had three friends, but all three of them seemed to not care enough to come celebrate your birthday with you. And as your mother finally took the final bow in the form of a soft hand on your inner thigh, her tone gentle as she called your name– “Y/N, I think we should light the candles,” you began to tear up.

You were supposed to eat the cake with your friends. You were supposed to hear them sing the birthday song to you. You were supposed to turn on the radio and dance around with your classmates, eat the sweets and unwrap the cheap, but heartfelt gifts they brought along with them to celebrate your birthday. 

But none of these scenarios were happening, and you felt incredibly, incredibly lonely and sad. Forgotten, if you will. Not cared for, definitely.

Hiding your face into your hands, you started to cry. This disappointment was too big for your small heart to take, and you no longer cared about the cake, the candles, the seaweed soup your mother cooked for you to celebrate, the gifts, or the party. All you wanted to do was hide in your room and never come out– something about the whole situation felt deeply embarrassing, and to this day, the moment before the whole day turned around still makes you feel a bit ashamed of yourself. 

Too busy crying, you didn’t notice your older brother watching you with big bambi eyes, a worried glance sent your way each time your sobs grew louder and louder. And maybe the boy only wanted to taste the cake (he’s been bugging your mum about it since the very morning, but he was always sent off with a scolding look telling him that he’ll get a slice when everyone arrives), but no matter what his true intentions were, his actions still managed to pull your seventh birthday party together in a way you never imagined.

The sound of the front door faintly resonated in your brain somewhere in the middle of your aimless sobbing, but you paid it no mind, thinking it was just Sunwoo going out to the yard to kick the ball. See, your older brother had never really known what to do when you cried growing up– it didn’t matter if he was the reason for your tears or if anyone else was. If he was the reason for your emotional outbursts, he tried to shut you up with his palm and get you to stop crying before his mother found out and gave him a scolding, but if someone else was, the small boy sometimes turned angry at the source. Kicking his classmate that once made a snarky comment about you and made you tear up or punching his friend when he was too harsh with you was all he knew to do in these situations, so he wasn’t the one to comfort you with words or hugs. It was only natural for him to escape in this situation.

You were brought to a state of shock and surprise when a hand landed on your shoulder, a familiar voice breaking you from your emotional turmoil.

“Why are you crying? We have to eat the cake!” you heard, your big, sad eyes meeting the small figure of the boy living next door, your brother nervously stepping from one side to the other right behind his best friend. “Can you light the candles, Mrs?” Eric politely asked your mum, pointing towards the cake waiting sadly at the coffee table, the figure of your mother leaving your side only shortly to get the matches from the kitchen and illuminate your face with the small flames.

Confusion mirrored your features as you watched your brother and his best friend sing the birthday song to you while your mum lit your candles, both boys clapping and dancing around, acting silly just to get a laugh from you. You didn't know how Eric got there, but you guessed there are some good sides to having him as your neighbor. The energetic boy did his best to brighten up your mood a bit, and when you blew out the candle, making a wish, Sunwoo even went as far as smashing your face into the cake to bring in the full birthday authenticity.

That got him a slap to the back of his head from your mother, as well as made you stand up from your position– no longer making you look like a disappointed bulk of pity– and chase him around the room, icing falling off your nose to the laminated floor. You got your revenge and smeared the chocolate all over his forehead (he let you chase him down only because it was your birthday and he really, really hated to see his sister cry, but he won’t ever tell you that) and as the three of you sat back down to the floor, watching your mother slice the cake and offer it to you on small white plates, you realized you suddenly weren't as sad anymore.

“What did you wish for?” Eric asked you, mouth full of cake and face messy with chocolate.

“I can’t tell you,” you hummed, eyebrows furrowed. “Then it won’t come true.”

“You probably wished for that doll you saw in the store the other day,” Sunwoo snickered as he swallowed, having you glare at him and send a sharp kick to his shin, unwatched by your mother (thankfully), as the boy fought you back, having no mercy.

Music suddenly filled the room as Eric stood up and put the radio on, his 9 year old brain smart enough to know how the device worked, his small figure dancing away to the songs playing on the single radio station you could play without carefully sorting out the antenna so it faced the north, and truly, you didn’t know how it happened, but it had you standing up and dancing around, exactly how you'd imagined doing with your friends from school.

The day wasn’t ruined– quite the opposite, really. It was one of your favorite birthday parties, and ever since then, Eric was invited to every single one you had after. And while Sunwoo may act like he doesn’t hate anything more in this world than having a younger sister, every time you feel like a burden to him, you remember this very afternoon.

You will never tell anyone what you wished for that day– but just to let everyone in on the secret, 

it was to somehow, just like Sunwoo, find someone like Eric for yourself as well. 

JUNE OF 1999

Standing at the side of the pool, eyes squinting from the inevitable force of the sun, you’re starting to regret your decision of coming along just a little. See, you usually don’t protest whenever Sunwoo aggressively drags you around and brings you everywhere he’s supposed to, because even though you love to see your brother angry (especially when you’re the reason behind the emotion), you’d also hate to see him miss out, but now, as the scorching hot sun is having no mercy on every exposed inch of skin– and believe me, there’s a lot of it, since you’re wearing your swimming trunks– and the sweat on your forehead is no longer culminating in beads, but rolling painfully slowly down your forehead, you do admit you’d be a little bit happier in the shade of your little room than here, watching the guys play volleyball in the comfort of the freezing cold pool.

And as the only female around the house, you settle with the patriarchy and bring out a small folding chair and a camping table alongside with a big, sharp knife, struggling to hoist up the giant watermelon you got in a grocery store on your way to the beach house, with the intention of cutting it and serving it to the guys later. Who knows, maybe they’ll like you a little more after that. 

The knife sinks into the thick green skin of the watermelon easily, and so as you accompany yourself with the excited (and not so excited screams coming from the losing side of the game– mainly your brother himself), you cut up the fruit into halves, then quarters, and as you stare at the moon crescents settled on the camping table, you decide to play nice and cut up the fruit into smaller triangles as well, to really get on everyone’s good side.

The yearning for male validation awakes in a woman pretty early on in life. It’s an inevitable misfortune.

“Told you Sunwoo’s all talk but no game!” you hear Haknyeon yell out as the game seemingly ends, the younger boy lunging at him in the pool, fighting him for the truthful words. Glancing at the commotion, you notice the guys slowly getting out of the pool, making you heave out in victory– you’re finally gonna have your turn in the pool. Well, if they don’t decide to occupy it again before you even get a chance to get in.

“Y/N! You cut up the watermelon?” Eric asks a very obvious question, walking up to you with beads of water all over his half-naked body. His dark hair is damply sitting against his forehead, making him look like a wet puppy, but as the male gets closer to you, he drags his palm through the locks and pushes them back, revealing his forehead– a sight sweet to your eyes, but you refuse to pay it much attention in the heat of the moment. It’s just the sun making you delirious as the idea of finding him attractive flashes through your brain, that’s all. 

“I did! Take one,” you smile, watching as the rest of the guys walk over to your little stand– while also obnoxiously swatting out water out of their hair like dogs, refusing to use towels like normal people– and finally, there it comes: appreciative smiles appear on their faces as they each take a piece, biting down on the fruit with delighted sighs.

Sunwoo walks up to you with a surprised look on his face, sighing as he messes with your hair. “If I knew you’d be our servant, I wouldn’t have even minded you going in the first place.”

“You do something nice for people and they jump on the chance to exploit you,” you hum, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s just like you, Kim Sunwoo.”

“No, that’s just me having older brother privileges.”

“I hope you choke on that, you know,” you bite at him, pointing towards the piece of sweet watermelon in his hands, the smile on his face turning bitter. There’s a satisfied look on your face when your brother does, indeed, choke on a watermelon seed a few seconds later– and they say dreams don’t come true.

“You didn’t have to,” you hear Eric speak up from the other side, your head turning to face the male, his features appreciative and warm. “Thank you,” he beams. There’s redness on the tip of his nose and his forehead, signaling his quickly approaching sunburn, and you can’t help but laugh out at his clueless, Rudolph the red nosed reindeer self. 

“What’s so funny?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows at you in question.

“Nothing,” you peep, “you just look like you forgot to use sunscreen,” you mumble, watching as the male gasps and touches his face, a horrified expression overtaking him when the skin under his fingertips burns to the touch. 

“I didn’t forget! It must have rubbed off in the pool,” he mourns, “I must look stupid!” 

“Only a little,” you tease, a grin overtaking your features. See, there’s something about the fact that you’ve known Eric for the entirety of your whole life that makes you more prone to teasing him– you’re familiar with your dynamics and just how far you can go, so his next actions startle you just the tiniest bit as the male looks sternly at you, throwing the half-eaten watermelon slice to the camping table. You thought you had the risks calculated– apparently, you didn't.

“What did you say?”

Examining his features, seeing no signs of anger– just the stoic, fakely-offended face of your brother’s childhood best friend– you shrug. “That you look a bit stupid with your face like that.”

“Oh, okay,” he nods, “you’re going down for that.”

“What do you mea–”

Your words are cut short when the male lunges at you, his arms enveloping your thighs and holding you up. The contact of his cold skin from the pool and your heated figure makes goosebumps appear all over your body, your hands instinctively reaching around him to support yourself as he walks closer to the pool– his intentions are suddenly painfully clear and you start to panic. 

“This will teach you to respect your elders,” Eric huffs, the turquoise surface of the water slowly coming into your point of view.

“Stop! Stop-stop-stop,” you squirm, kicking your feet and trying to take down the predator, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, alright?”

The male takes a halt for a split second– making you foolishly believe he’ll let you off– before he breaks out into a devilish grin and continues to walk to the edge of the pool. “Too late.”

“Eric!” you scream, the volume of your voice resonating through the whole beach, your heart thumping wild against your ribcage with the awaiting process. You’re not even sure what you’re scared of anymore– you can swim and you bet the water will feel nice against the scorching sun– but still, you’re absolutely terrified as the male has no mercy on you, carrying you steadily towards the water. “At least let me tie my hair first! You can dump me in after, I promise,” you mourn, trying to buy yourself more time.

“Alright,” he nods, waiting at the very edge of the pool, leaving you to take the purple scrunchie off your wrist and gather your hair together, preparing to tie it into a bun so it doesn’t get in your way when you’re in the pool. The hair tie is just at the tips of your fingertips, the first loop over the hair ready to be done, when a scream cuts out of your throat.

The feeling of falling suddenly overtakes your body, leaving you no time to prepare yourself for the impact of the cold water against your skin and all up in your nose, since you didn’t pluck it when you were dumped into the pool. The fall only lasts a split second until you’re below the water, the force of it resonating in your ears, and when you finally act on your instincts and stand up in the pool (it wasn’t even that deep in the first place, only reaching to your upper stomach), you cough out all the water and pray to gods you don’t throw up chlorine into the freshly cleaned pool. After you’re done catching your breath and getting oxygen into your lungs again, you do your best at getting all the hair out of your face. 

There is laughter landing into your ears as soon as you manage to get all the water out of them by leaning your head to the side and violently slapping each one, and when your eyes look up, you see an amused Eric Sohn bending over in his waist at your disheveled appearance. 

Grunting and pointing a finger to the criminal that almost made you drown, you huff out. “I’ll kill you! Just you watch.”

Your scrunchie nowhere to be found, forever lost somewhere outside of the beach house, you think, as it flew off your hand in the impact of the attack, shock makes your figure shake alongside of the coldness of the water, making you audibly sigh. 

Yes. You do regret coming along just a little.

JULY OF 1999

Somewhere along the way, Eric Sohn starts acting as if he’s your second older brother. Sure, you’ve known the male your whole entire life and he’s seen you grow up, but it took him 17 years of your life to come to a point where he gives you equal amount of attention whenever he’s over at your house than he does to your brother, and even asks Sunwoo if you’re coming along with them whenever they leave to hang out somewhere else. It’s a change that comes naturally and slowly, and you welcome it unknowingly– the revelation shocks you on a hot summer day, though, when the idea finally comes to you in full force.

You would even argue and say Eric acts more like your brother than your actual sibling does– he asks if you’ve eaten and listens to you when you talk (which Sunwoo never does, well, except from when he’s arguing with you). Eric even compliments your outfits sometimes and lets you borrow his MP3 player from time to time– Sunwoo would never share his things with you, no matter how hard you pleaded and threatened to tell your mum. Yes, your brother's an adult and you’re one year away from becoming one– you still resolve your conflicts through your only parent, though. Some things, you never grow out of.

“I wanna try using the skateboard now, Sunwoo,” you order sternly when the boy finally reaches your destination. You’ve been sitting on the sidewalk for quite some time now, since your brother and his friend decided that they’re gonna try out their new skateboards on the hottest day of the year. Your town doesn’t have fancy skateparks and ramps like the ones you’ve seen in the music videos on TV, so you don’t really know what initially made the two buy those things, but you do admit that even driving up and down the road in front of your house does seem a little fun– so much you’d love to try it.

“What a shame we all wish for things we can’t have,” he shrugs ironically, shaking his head at you from his position above. The male reaches down for his bag, taking out a water bottle and putting it against his plush lips, all while you glare at him from below, still seated in your initial position. Eric comes up to you two, squishing at the soft plastic bottle in Sunwoo’s hold, making the water splash your older brother in the face, leaving a winning grin to be shared between you and the shorter boy, an expression that makes you all warm on the inside. See, at least Eric always has your back.

“You can try mine, if you want,” the latter shrugs, offering you a smile.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “why not?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I just didn’t expect you to offer, since as you saw, my dear brother just refused when I asked…” you mumble, standing up from the sidewalk and taking the skateboard into your hand. Eric offers it to you with an outstretched arm and watches as you put the board on the floor, squinting at it with much examination.

“Do you know how to ride it?” he asks.

“No,” you shake your head, “but I mean, if Sunwoo can do it, how hard can it really be?” you joke, seeing as the said boy glares at you, finally finishing his water and dropping the bottle to the ground. 

“I’ll remind you of that statement when you eat shit on the pavement,” he shushes you, rolling his eyes. 

Not paying more attention to the grumpy being that is your own brother, you relocate your attention back to the skateboard on the heated road. You’re lucky you live on a street where cars don’t often drive by, since your neighborhood is on the very edge of the town, so you don’t really fear being run over by a pickup truck. What you do worry about, though, is your lacking sense of balance, which you discovered when you learned how to ride the bike for the first time. While your brother was a professional in no time, it took you weeks to get it right, and so with the idea of riding a board that provides you zero sense of security, you get a bit worried for your own life.

Dragging your hair out of your face and aimlessly trying to tuck it behind your ears– there’s no use in trying though, as the strands slip out just as fast as they found their place– you keep staring at the board only a few centimeters away from your feet, mentally calculating your next move. There’s a noise of a backpack being opened and rustling around in the background of your miserable thoughts, and when you look up to see what’s going on, you notice Eric offering you a small, purple bundle of fabric. 

“What’s that?” you ask, even though the answer is clear as the day– you recognise your own scrunchie with no problem. You’re just surprised to see it in his hold. You thought it was forever buried somewhere in the beach house, since you weren’t able to find it after you got out of the pool, no matter how hard you tried.

“Oh,” he shrugs, amidst a little too nonchalantly, “I found it and figured it was yours, but I forgot to give it back to you then… it seems like you need it now, though,” he offers you an explanation, lips pressed into a thin line that slightly signifies a smile.

“Ah,” you gasp, nodding as you take the hair tie out of his outstretched palm, gathering your hair into a bun and tying it up on the crown of your head– the staring contest you’ve been having with the board is much clearer now, when you don’t have your messy strands in the way. The idea of Eric keeping your scrunchie after finding it at the beach house makes your stomach do a weird kind of turn– you guess it made you a bit weirded out, if you’re being honest.

“Want some help with that?” he asks, pointing towards his skateboard.

Nervous, cracking your knuckles as you meet his eyes– he looks a bit amused, but still genuine– you nod, admitting defeat. There’s no way you’re getting on top of that board without help and not falling down. It’s always better to be safe than to be sorry, and so when Eric laughs airly at your composure and takes a few steps closer towards you, you let the male lead you, finding comfort in his secure words and actions.

Eric offers you his arms to hold when you try to get on the skateboard. He is peering at you from under his eyelashes when you put one of your legs onto the wood, his grip on your forearm getting firmer when you try to get your other foot on as well– and you must admit that you suddenly don’t feel like you might die anymore when there’s someone holding you and standing by your side. 

“See? It’s not that hard,” Eric mumbles, his voice low and reassuring from the proximity. You notice your hands sweating a little when his palm envelopes yours– damn the sun and its unbearable heat making you embarrass yourself– but he doesn’t mention it as he firmly holds you and meets your eyes. “I’m gonna drag you around a bit so you get used to it before trying yourself,” he says before taking a few steps forward, preparing to be your own type of personal driver.

Having him instruct you and help you around makes you feel more comfortable on the board. Sunwoo would never do such a thing for you– he’d enjoy watching you fall down and break your neck and possibly die– so you’re more than happy to have someone in your life that takes care of you in ways your older brother refuses to. 

The skateboard moves forward a little, starting slow, but then picking up speed as Eric jogs a little, making you laugh at the action. He does not have to go above and beyond, but he still does– but you guess it’s good for him to let out his energy somewhere. After a while, he looks back at you and meets your eye with a warm gaze, making you nod at him reassuringly and hold up a thumb of the hand he’s not holding right now, signaling that you’re okay and enjoying yourself. That has the male let go of your hand and let you take the road with the laws of physics, moving forward by yourself with the force he created. 

It’s nice. It’s fun. 

Yes, you totally understand why Eric and Sunwoo wanted skateboards after seeing them on TV. Hell, you want one now.

“Try it yourself now!” Eric encourages you as the board naturally comes to a stop under you, and his smiling face is enough for you to take initiative and nod, relocating one foot off the wood and placing it on the floor, then kicking it and making yourself move on the simple vehicle.

A moment of surprise envelopes you like a warm hug when you manage to not fall off and keep your balance, the joy of it making you try to go faster on the board, kicking once, twice against the pavement with the sole of your old, beaten up shoe. “I’m doing it!” you yell, glancing back at Eric standing on the sidewalk, watching you with excited eyes. The male offers you a victorious holler, something that makes you break into a laugh, makes your confidence blossom in marvelous ways.

Confidence rises in you so much you try to take a U-turn and go back to your teacher– perhaps showing off that you really got the hang of it now, or something– but as you try to maneuver the board and turn right, there it comes: the moment where you realize that you were, once again, too overly-confident in your abilities that are, sadly, very poor. Your body sways from side to side, your poor balance laughs at you and points an accusing finger at your attempts, and, well, to put it frankly, your whole life flashes in front of your eyes and the moment plays in slow motion as you lose the board from below your feet– the wood flying somewhere to the opposite side of the road, not at all where you meant to go in the first place– and your body inevitably comes crashing to the ground.

Awaiting the hard pavement meeting your nose and breaking it, you brace yourself with palms outstretched in front of you, the last remains of self-perseverance entering the sane parts of your brain in what you think are the last seconds of your miserable life. Another moment of surprise greets you when your yelp is muffled against something soft and your hands don’t hit the hard pavement, your ears filled with a grunt that belongs to another human swiftly chiming in and catching you before you fall.

Firm hands hold your waist– the touch somehow familiar, enveloping you in a strange sense of deja vu– and even though your body goes limp in terror, the male has you back on your feet in no time, his palms on the exposed skin of your stomach. The realization has you burning up as you look up and meet Eric’s eyes, gasping at the closeness of his face to yours. 

“You okay over there?” he asks as you unconsciously study his face– you never noticed his nose looked this nice up close– before you wake out of it and nod urgently, breaking away from his hold. You’re not gonna try to calculate the effort he must have put in just to chime in and catch you from where he was standing in such a short moment, but something about the passing thought of it has you weak in your knees from gratefulness. 

“Uhm- yeah,” you nod, kicking the pavement with your stained shoes, “I just… miscalculated my skills, that’s all,” you sheepishly hum, hearing the boy snicker at your shaken-up composure.

Watching him take off and retrieve his skateboard from where it wandered off against the curb– much to his golden retriever energy– you sigh and prepare to go sit back on the sidewalk, having enough of new experiences from the shock still lingering in your fingertips. You take a glance down the road, seeing your older brother cruising on the street– when and how he got there, you truly have no idea– when you hear Eric, who seemingly has different ideas for your next actions, call at you from the middle of the pavement.

“Where are you going? Come back!” he asks, having you look at him in surprise, mouth agape and eyes big, staring at him. He now has the board under his shoulder, but puts it back on the road and points at it, shrugging to himself. “I’ll push you down the road, it’s gonna be fun!”

“Eric, I’m literally going to die–”

“No, you’re not. Come on, I promise,” he says, but still, he doesn’t have you convinced. Your feet move against your best conclusions, though, and when you come to a halt right in front of your companion, he offers you a boyish grin. “Sit down on it, that way you’re more balanced. I swear you’re not gonna fall off, okay? I got you.”

“You promise?”

“Yes,” he nods, determined.

“Pinky swear,” you mumble, holding up your pinky finger– all thoughts of seeming childish pushed to the side in the desperate moment– and the male in front of you shakes his head in disbelief, breaking into a laugh.

“Cute,” he huffs, “yeah, okay. Pinky swear,” he nods, interlacing your pinky with his and bumping his thumb against yours, the seal foolishly making you feel more secure as you follow his order and take a seat on the skateboard, your hands gripping the bottom of the wood so hard your knuckles turn white.

“Okay, ready? 3, 2, 1–” he chants as he pushes you, two steady hands coming in contact with your shoulder blades, force making you move on the board, wheels taking you down with gravity. The sound of Eric’s shoes hitting the pavement fills your ears as you go faster, and as you finally get to the part of the hill that takes a downwards slope, he offers you a final push, sending you down the road. 

Wind makes your hair fly back, your surroundings blurring as you yelp and scream, but you can’t say you’re not enjoying the ride. Eric was right– it was fun, you liked it, and something about the gesture had you all warm on the inside. The breeze has you cool down a little in the summer heat, and the board continues to move even as you pass your older brother standing at the bottom of the slope, away from your trajectory. 

Body relaxing when the skateboard finally slows down, you let out a heartfelt laughter. Turning back and seeing Eric jog down the road with a humongous grin on his face, you offer him two thumbs up above your head, watching as he returns the gesture and makes his way back to the two of you on the bottom of the small hill.

The truth is, this was the day you realized Eric Sohn has always found his way to make you feel included and safe. 

You can’t help but feel grateful.

AUGUST OF 1999

“Sunwoo, you have to tie a knot here and then– no, you dumbass, you’re doing it completely wrong,” you mourn as you watch your older brother with a mess of thread in his lap, a focused scowl on his face. There’s a fan standing across from you, blowing cold air into your face, but you still feel yourself grow heated with frustration as Sunwoo just can’t help but not understand the art of making friendship bracelets. It’s not like you’re forcing him to do them– he was the one that asked you to show him how to, muttering something about offering one to his classmate Yeji once he’s back in school– so in theory, he should be putting in effort, no? 

Or maybe he is. Maybe he’s just… incompetent.

“I don’t get it,” Sunwoo hums under his breath, sighing as he leans against the sofa in your living room, the two of you sitting on the floor accompanied by his best friend squinting at you from the opposite side, a comic book in the latter's hand. The myth of men not being able to multi-task is quickly thrown into the bin as you watch Eric pay equal amount of attention to the comic book and the dialogue between you and your brother, and when Sunwoo seems to give up on the art of making friendship bracelets, his best friend can’t help but laugh.

“You’re giving up already? This is how you want to get a girlfriend?” you poke your brother to his side and take the threads off his lap, examining the mess of a safety pin and meters of yarn, all knotted up and not coming along in the shape you taught him to at all.

“It’s not to get a girlfriend, I just-”

“Sure,” you roll your eyes, huffing as you roll his poor attempt at friendship bracelet into a ball and throw it to the corner of the room, making a mental note to pick it up and throw it to the bin later. “You know what, just give her this one and pretend you made it,” you mutter, taking a bracelet you'd already made to demonstrate in between your fingers and throw it into Sunwoo’s lap, the older one catching it and examining it under his nose.

“That looks pretty good,” he hums, making you snort at his appreciative comment. The bracelet is pink and red, the colors just screaming romance and cute energy, which is exactly what a girl needs to be swayed by your brother. You can’t really believe a bracelet will make her swoop into his arms, because truthfully, with your brother’s face and manners, every living thing is keeping a fair distance, but hey, it doesn’t hurt to try, does it? Maybe his classmate is… majorly blind? That might do it?

“Of course it looks good,” you scoff, “that’s because I made it,” you nod, averting your gaze towards your lap, threading your fingers through the yarn you attached to a safety pin on your sweatpants to keep the growing friendship bracelet in place. 

“Then why is the one you’re making right now so ugly?” Eric asks, pointing towards the creation. 

Glancing up at the male slowly, mentally throwing all different kinds of curses at him for daring to talk badly about your craft, you huff. “What do you mean, ugly?”

“The colors… they don’t… they don’t really go together,” Eric sheepishly admits, scratching the back of his neck, quickly averting his gaze from you and gluing it back into his comic book. You think that if he doesn’t stop being a smart-ass and throw jabs at your artistic choices, he’s gonna have to protect his comic book with his own body– and you bet he’d do that, because he borrowed it from the library. The fees for damage are high.

“That’s just… not true at all,” you muse, but groggily take a look at the creation once again, but now, thanks to the remark, seeing it in a completely different way. Shades of orange, brown and purple stare back at you amidst a little disappointedly, and as you thread the yarn and make a couple of knots to end the bracelet, you can’t help but feel a pout growing on your face from the realization. Eric might be right. It does look a little bad…

“Whatever. Your taste is just bad,” you snap as you finish off the craft piece, unclasping the safety pin and sliding the bracelet off the inside, freeing it from the hold. Eric laughs a little at your frustrated state– similarly to what you do when you manage to get Sunwoo upset– and with that, you sigh and put the bracelet on the coffee table.

“I’m going out to the store to get some chocolates,” you say as you stand up, goal clear in your mind, “have fun, losers.”

“You’re still collecting the stickers from these?” Sunwoo asks, a mischievous smile growing on his lips. The teasing is inevitable and coming very soon, and there’s nothing you can do about it– you’re fully aware, which only further makes you want to escape the situation more quickly. Rolling your eyes at your brother’s antics, you move towards the door. 

“Yes, Sunwoo, I am. They’re cute and make me happy, do you have a problem with that?” you point an accusing finger at the male, having him shrug, tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

“You’re such a kid,” he huffs, averting his gaze from you when he lands the comment, the jab coming straight at your fragile heart.

“Okay, then,” you note, “I’ll just have my pretty and cute bracelet back, and you can get your girlfriend something else-”

The male quickly regains his previous composure, swatting his hands in hurry just to make you halt in your sentence. His eyes are big and his mouth is a little agape in terror as he tries to save his ass, plea written all over his face. “I was just joking! Don’t be so petulant… go get your cute stickers, they’re so fun!”

Humming to yourself, your face is tugged up into a victorious smile. “That's what I thought. So, as I was saying, have fun, losers.”

“Wait!” Eric suddenly calls for you, making you turn on your heel in the middle of your escape, eyes peering at the male. “Don’t I get a bracelet too?”

The request catches you off guard. There’s a certain kind of spark in Eric Sohn’s eyes as he asks the question, and you can’t really place it in any category, but it has you nervously shrugging at the preposition. You’re not really sure why Eric would want a bracelet from you, but to avoid confrontation and also the weird leap of your heart surely leading you into cardiac arrest, you only shrug and move back inside of the living room, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you scan the surroundings, searching for something.

“Sure,” you nod, taking the ugly bracelet off the table and offering it to him, “you can have that one.”

You hold a staring contest with the older boy for a couple of seconds, his head undoubtedly swirling with arguments and comments about the apparel of the friendship bracelet, but he’s smart– he must know the survival of his beloved comic book must be at stake. So, he only nods and smiles at you, outstretching his hand to you and nudging his head in its direction.

“Okay,” he hums, “tie it for me?”

A second comes by– a heartbeat, really– in which you chew on your bottom lip and gasp at the request, but still, you nod and come closer, crouching down to be at his level and taking the thread into your fingers. You wrap the bracelet around his wrist, making sure to leave a bit of wiggle room before you tie a knot, bringing the ends together, all while feeling the eyes of Eric glued to your face, watching every micro expression flash through your unsettling composure.

When you’re done, making a move to hide your hands behind your back and standing up, your limbs bump into each other and send an unspoken sense of electricity all through your body. The sensation is so strange you don’t meet anyone’s eye before you leave the room, yelling out a goodbye as you hurriedly open the front door and run out to get fresh air (it’s August, though. The air is humid and only makes your head spin more).

You clear your throat before you take off to the grocery store. It's only when you're halfway there that you realize you'd forgotten to bring your wallet with you. It's okay, though– you take this chance to walk around, regaining your casualty.

You bet Eric will take the bracelet off in a matter of a week.

SEPTEMBER OF 1999

The leaves start turning orange and the weather a bit colder when you become hyper-aware of your shifting composure whenever Eric Sohn is around. The way you feel heat rushing to your cheeks whenever he calls you cutie, a nickname he’s had reserved for you since you two were little kids, the way you feel weak in your knees whenever he casually brings his arm around your shoulders or when he bends down to tie your shoelace in the middle of the sidewalk. You don’t really know what those sudden changes are, yet, you feel a bit embarrassed by them whenever they take place. You don’t think it’s normal to feel this way around your brother’s best friend, and the more you hang out with him, the more you wish you read less books as a child– because now, you’re also hyper-aware of the title those feelings may have. 

Still, it only comes to you on one September afternoon– you wake up from blissful unawareness and jolt with the quickly opening pit in your stomach at the strange revelation.

“Eric! Sunwoo isn’t home, though?” you mumble, confused as you notice the boy standing on your doorway, a plastic bag in his hand and a red Nike jacket enveloping his frame.

“I know, he said he’s hanging out with Juyeon hyung today,” he nods, “I brought you something, though,” he says, holding up the bag and making sure you get a chance to see it, offering you a boyish grin.

“Oh?” you gasp, furrowing your eyebrows at the male. When you do nothing to invite him inside, he does so himself– slightly nudging you in your side as he passes your figure and enters your house. He acts like he owns the place, and by the amount of time he’s spent in your home, you’d think he does– he doesn’t, though. The only thing he owns is just a lot of audacity.

The male takes off his shoes in the entryway and walks his way over to your room– a surprising act, considering he’s spent the least amount of time in this very place– and when he’s sure you’re following his every move, he empties the contents of the bag to the middle of your freshly made bed. Watching as approximately ten items fall out of the plastic, your eyes widen with surprise as you recognise your favorite chocolate– the mini bars with stickers inside, the ones you collect and stick into your journal and look at in the middle of the night, giggling to yourself and kicking your feet at the adorable pictures in your make-shift collect book.

“Woah,” you gasp when the male looks at you, seemingly awaiting your response, and when he gets the wished outcome, pride overtakes his features, shrugging to himself.

“My mum got some for free because she bought a lot of cabbage for kimchi yesterday,” he explains, “I thought of you when I saw them, so I bought you some more.”

“I- you-” you stutter, emotions too big for your own good swelling all inside your fragile, little self, hands running into your hair and tugging at the roots to wake yourself up from the dream. “You didn’t have to!”

“We got them anyway, and I know you like the stickers,” Eric shrugs, scratching the back of his neck, completely ignoring the fact that he said he bought you some more, your heart skipping a beat at the sentiment. Clearing your throat, you tentatively take a step closer to your bed, gathering a bar of chocolate into your hand and opening it, taking a bite.

“You can have the stickers if you give me some chocolate,” Eric says close to your ear, almost as if he was creating a masterplan, to which you eagerly nod and plop onto your bed, moving the bars of sweets into one pile. As you continue to munch on the first one, you unwrap the sticker and look at it, praying to yourself as if you were checking if your lottery ticket was worth any cent– hoping you get a sticker you don’t own yet.

The image of a cute panda would cheer anyone up even in their darkest moments– not you, though, as you mourn and sigh, disappointment clear in your features. 

“What?” Eric asks, eyes big pools of worry.

“I already got that one.”

“Ah,” he nods, seemingly understanding– much to your surprise, “well, we got 9 more tries, let’s get to eating.”

Wrappers are rustling in your bed sheets as you and Eric eat the concerning amount of chocolate, gathering the stickers in a little pile on top of your notebook, promising each other to not look at the stickers as you go and just make a grand reveal at the end. Eric’s full cheeks are a sight you enjoy, telling him he looks like a squirrel– to which he sends a light flick to your forehead, telling you you don’t look much different– and soon enough, the nine bars left disappear from your plain sight (you only had 3 and Eric ate the remaining 5. He’s a growing boy, though, so you understand. He needs to get his undying energy from somewhere.).

“Ready for the reveal?” you ask, locking your gaze with Eric.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

With that, you get to the pile of stickers in the middle of your bedsheets. Looking at the first one, there’s a happy squeal cutting out of your throat, the image of an adorable yellow duck warming you up with euphoria. 

“You don’t have that one yet?”

“I don’t,” you nod, “this is just perfect.”

Eric nods and watches you with a certain kind of warmth in his gaze as you open up your notebook and stick the newest addition to your little sticker farm– or a ZOO, however you wanna call it. The next sticker from the pile is added as well– a brown, big bear– and the next one too, the most adorable colorful parrot slapped to the corner of your page. 

The rest of your stickers are the ones you already own, though– a displeased look takes over your features at the knowledge, but still, you can’t help but beam at the fact that you have 3 new additions to your collection, and they were a gift from Eric Sohn himself. Someone who doesn’t make fun of your childish habit. Someone who feeds your little interest, watches you with excitement in his eyes as you indulge. Someone not like your brother. 

Someone you could never see the way you see your brother.

“What do you do with the duplicates?” Eric asks, pointing to the sad pile on the top of your notebook. His figure is closer to you now, since he wanted to watch you stick the animals into your notebook, his crossed legs almost pressed against yours on the small bed.

“Well, usually, I just throw them out,” you shrug, “but since you’re here…” you muse, the idea plopping into your head like the newest discovery you should probably patent, peeling the back of one of the dog stickers off and swiftly turning towards your companion, mischief sparkling in your eyes.

You put the sticker on his left cheek, making the boy jump. “Hey!”

Giggling, taking another one of the stickers and pressing it to the middle of his forehead, Eric starts to fight you, your bodies wrestling on the bed. You don’t think he puts much effort into getting you off him– that, or he’s insanely weak– and in no time, his face is adorned with all different kinds of animals, his hair messy from tussling in your bedsheets. The image has you laughing before you realize you’re basically straddling him on your bed, his big eyes gaping at you from below, his appearance enough to make something in your brain short-circuit and make you leap off him, clearing your throat.

Heat rushes into your cheeks as you take a seat next to him, playing with your fingers. You pray for anything to come and ease the awkwardness you caused, and sure enough, today must be your lucky day. “Hey, look here!” 

You call for the boy as you swiftly take your polaroid camera off your bedside table– the one that belonged to your dad, the one you fought with Sunwoo about, the one your mum said was yours because Sunwoo is too careless with his things to keep it safe– and snap a picture of the puppy-like boy, laughing at the fact that now, you have the image of him looking dumb and covered in stickers forever. Or at least until he doesn't take it away from you– which he attempts quickly.

“Hey!” he yelps again, huffing as he lunges at you, trying to take the picture out of your grasp as you drop the camera into your soft sheets. Your feet take you to the living room, navigating through furniture, and when you don’t hear footsteps follow you, you think you’re safe– Eric does have a lot of energy, but chasing you around gets tiring for him quickly when he knows you'll never let him win.

Entering your room once again, prepared to find him on your bed like before, you’re taken by surprise as a shutter sound goes off right after you open the door, a polaroid picture taken of your face making you temporarily blind at the flash.

“Eric!” you whine, hating that there’s a picture of you standing shocked at your doorway now forever in the universe– not really caring that the boy just got you back with the exact stunt you pulled on him just a few minutes ago. Before you get a chance to blink out the blind spots in your vision caused by the flash and run after him, though, you feel him gently press you out of the doorway and slip outside, the sound of the front door opening and closing after him resonating along his slowly disappearing, amused laughter.

Serves you right, doesn’t it? 

Sighing, you shake your head and take a seat on your bed, the picture of the boy still in between your fingertips. You only take a look at it when your vision comes back to normal, and as the image of Eric covered in stickers, hair messy and cheeks rosy below the animal print comes into your sight, the revelation arrives the same second a starstruck smile plays with your features.

And with that, you’re absolutely terrified. 

Throwing the polaroid picture onto the bedside table and lunging yourself into the sheets, you scream into your pillow and wish for the feelings to disappear– because in what world does a crush on your brother’s best friend ever come to a happy ending?

OCTOBER OF 1999

Once October hits, you find yourself home alone more often than you’d like. Sure, you don’t mind having some me time to read comic books or watch the TV uninterrupted in the living room, but still– alone turns lonely pretty quickly, and somehow, you start to regret the fact that you’ve been relying on your older brother and his friends for so long instead of making some connections on your own.

Sunwoo started to play soccer at school– something is telling you that he might go far if he keeps it up– and that’s why he’s been stuck at practice every single day, coming home late in the evening all tired, but happy, so you’re not really complaining. Eric works in the little bistro downtown now, since he wanted to make some money and not rely on the allowance Mrs. Sohn gives him every month, and it’s not like you were that close to begin with, but the fact that the boy is now too busy to meet you is making your spirit fall just the tiniest bit. And with your mother always being at work, you find yourself alone in your room, laying in your bed and staring at the ceiling. 

Sometimes, you journal. About anything and everything, really. You don’t really think you’re ever gonna read back the entries once you’re older, since they would just be a reminder of how miserable and boring your teenage years really were, and that’s why you allow yourself to be authentic. On most days, you write about your assignments for school. Sometimes you bad mouth a classmate or two– gossiping with the diary pages, because you don’t really have any human beings to do so in real life– and seldom, you allow yourself to get into topics that evoke the slightest bits of existential crisis in you.

Topics like college. Growing up. Your lack of hobbies and social interaction with the outer world. The newly found crush on Eric Sohn…

Okay, maybe you do write about the boy with brown hair and dark eyes a little too often. You can’t help it, though– when he’s not giving you any new interactions to dwell on, you have to just pick apart the old ones. You think it’s a natural reaction.

And that’s exactly what you’re doing one October afternoon, the lamp in your room on, since the evening comes faster when the weather is colder, as you’re laying in your bed and kicking your feet back and forth, chewing on the end of your pencil. The sound of your doorbell resonates through the house suddenly and startles you, making you jump awake from your delirious delusions.

Mentally going through the list of possible visitors you could have– because it can’t be your mother or your brother, since they never forget to carry their house keys– you’re lost, not really finding any fitting candidates. Furrowing your brows, lost in thought and frankly, a bit confused, you plant your socked feet onto the wooden floor and walk over to the front door just in time for the bell to ring again. Scratching the back of your neck in nerves, thinking of precautions you could take for your own safety– since your front door doesn’t have a peep hole and you don’t want to open the door to a complete stranger– you clear your throat and yell over the door.

“Who is it?” you ask.

“Delivery!” a voice calls through the door, making you huff. 

“I didn’t order any food?” you yell back, confused. “Sir, there’s another house behind ours, sometimes the mailmen get confused and we get their mail. Maybe try there?” 

“The address is right, though?” the voice calls again, and somehow, it sounds kind of familiar… no, it can’t be, you dumb goose. You’re just imagining things because you’ve spent the last 20 minutes writing about the curve of his nose into your diary.

“There must be a mistake-”

“Come on, Y/N, open the door,” the voice on the other side mourns, the mention of your name making you jump, completely startled. The tone the man says it in is sweet like honey, though, so familiar in your ears, that you mentally want to slap yourself– so you weren’t dreaming. It is him.

Dragging your hand through your hair to smooth it down, praying you look at least a little presentable– although in your stained sweatpants and the Pokémon shirt you inherited from Sunwoo when he grew out of it, you doubt that’s even possible– you open the door and try to offer Eric a warm smile. “What are you doing here?”

“Food delivery,” Eric shrugs, pointing with his thumb in the direction behind his back, where his bike undoubtedly stands up against your gate.

“Oh…. but I already told you I didn’t order anything,” you mumble, confused. Studying his face– because a girl can indulge when she has the opportunity, am I right? – you notice his hair has grown a little longer, falling into his eyes. You bet it’s hard for him to see, but you must admit it looks nice, and you almost tell him, before you catch yourself and break away from the sentiment. 

The male snickers. “I know, I was just joking,” he says, “I did bring you food, though.”

“Why?” you ask, confused when he bends over and picks up a plastic bag off the ground, a container of food inside, the warmth of the contents making condensation appear all over the red sack. 

“We made this by mistake and it was just gonna be thrown out if nobody took it,” he shrugs, “and I figured you haven’t eaten yet– or if you did, you just had those cold kimbap rolls from the store– and I wanted to get some warm food into your stomach.”

“Ah,” you gasp, nodding at the explanation. It does explain the source of the food really well, but truthfully, it explains nothing about the fact why Eric thought of bringing you the food instead of taking it home with himself– he’s a foodie if you’ve ever seen one. The idea of him worrying about if you were fed or not is equally as strange and interesting in your head– still, you clasp your hand around the bag and take it, the smell making you involuntarily hungry. “Thank you.”

Eric only nods at you, a smile beaming at his face. “Well,” he sighs, “I’d love to stay longer and hang out, but I’m still on the clock, so…” he mumbles, taking a hesitant step backwards towards his bike, eyes never breaking contact with yours.

“Oh, right,” you nod, “that’s okay. Have a fun day at work!” you muse, watching him as he grins and finally retrieves back his bike, opening up the gate to your property and escaping, waving at you as he gets on.

“I’ll see you soon!” he calls as he rides off, your eyes following him until his figure disappears behind a corner, your ears buzzing with excitement and your lower lip trapped between your teeth with the innocent promise.

Walking back into the house, you grin as you close the front door behind you and carry the food into the kitchen. You quickly get the containers out of the damp bag, putting them onto the wooden table, and gasp when you find a sticky note on the very top one, a messy handwriting scribbled in a rush, but stuck to the food with care.

Eat well and don’t skip meals, Y/N-ie!! – Eric x

Not being able to battle your smile anymore, you decide to open up the containers and stuff your mouth with the food instead– only to find your favorite dish inside, staring back at you in what seems to be a dream that’s too good to wake up from. 

And sure, you are delusional, but are you delusional enough to believe that this wasn’t all a coincidence? You’re not so sure.

Still, you eat the food with feet kicking back and forth as you sit in the silent kitchen, the empty house no longer feeling so lonely. When you’re done, you throw the trash out– everything but the sticky note, which you glue into your diary a few minutes later, hoping to keep the memory forever.

NOVEMBER OF 1999

The world around you is dark as you step outside of cram school, your eyes are tired and your skin is prickled with goosebumps in the chilly air. You despise going to cram school, but your mother told you you have to– since you didn’t have any athletic features that could get you far in life like Sunwoo, you had to be good at studying, or else you won’t get into university. There was a lot of work ahead of you, but since you didn’t really have anything else to do in the day, you didn’t protest and went anyway.

The days are usually very long and you get off very late, resulting in you being tired almost all the time. When you get home, you undress yourself and change into your sleep clothes and doze off until the morning, when you have to wake up and go to school again– it’s an exhausting cycle, but you know you have to endure it for your own sake.

Walking down the steps that lead out the cram school building, you stretch your body and huff, cursing at yourself for the fact that you didn’t bring a jacket– you forgot that evenings get really chilly, and frankly speaking, you didn’t have much time to think when you were rushing to get ready in the morning. You’ll just have to get through it, you think to yourself as you walk in the direction of your house– the last bus to your neighborhood already left an hour ago, when you were in the middle of revising division– your sneakers kicking the stray rocks below your feet as you tug the sleeves of your hoodie lower, desperately trying to feel more heat.

“Do you never watch where you’re going? That’s gonna get you in trouble one day, you know,” you hear a familiar voice say, the joking tone making your heart skip a few beats as you place the owner of the saccharine voice to its face. Looking up, slightly alarmed at being caught in such a distressed state, you gasp.

“I was… watching my step, I guess,” you shrug as you come into a halt in front of him, shivering both under Eric’s gaze and the cold weather at once. “What are you doing here? Deliveries?”

“I just got off,” he says, “so I figured I could stop by. Sunwoo said you’re going to cram school, I thought you might enjoy some company on your way home.”

Gaping at his explanation, you nod, completely startled. The idea of your brother talking about you in front of Eric, the boy you have a very embarrassing, very big crush on scares you, to say the least. See, it doesn’t really matter that the boy grew up with you, pretty much seeing you at your lowest whenever he was around over at your house when you were both just little kids– the image of Sunwoo telling Eric about finding you sobbing at your comic book (the scene got too sad, nobody can really blame you) or about how your favorite jeans ripped right before you had to go to school one morning is terrifying. You don’t really want him to know about these things. He may act like your brother sometimes, but you never really saw him in that light in the first place.

“Well, then,” you clear your throat, “it’s… it’s good to see you,” you say. Eric shows you his boyish grin as your lips utter out the words, and you can’t help but mirror it, your eyes locking with the male. As if you just took a step back, your eyes see him in a light you’ve never seen him before– as if this was your first time meeting your brother’s best friend– and something about the sentiment has your stomach feeling all uneasy, heat rushing to your face. His hair is styled in a way that tells you that he didn’t really style it (or if he did, it looked truly effortless in your eyes, so props to him), pushed back a little and revealing his forehead, a few of the strands carelessly falling into his eyes. His jawline is sharper than how it was when you first met the boy, and with the realization of a foolish teenage girl, you have to admit that Eric Sohn grew up to be a very attractive, attentive man.

“You’re cold?” he says, although the sentence sounds more like a statement rather than a question, before he shakes his head at your antics and heaves out a sigh. “You should’ve taken a jacket with you when you went, you know it gets cold in the evening,” he scolds you. In those times, he reminds you the most of your brother– because although you and Sunwoo act like you hate each other sometimes, you know the older male still cares about you. He just hates showing it, which translates in his scolding tone whenever you do something wrong or against his wishes. 

In those times, Eric reminds you the most of the way your brother treats you, and you somehow hate it. You despise the fact, because that means he must only see you as someone like his younger sister– he never had one, so maybe he just likes to compensate for it by taking care of you all the time. Maybe he feels responsible to do so because of Sunwoo. The thought makes you equally as nauseous– you’d never want him to hang out with you just because he feels like he has to. 

“I didn’t have time in the morning,” you grunt, rolling your eyes at him. You avert your gaze from the male, for it makes you slightly uncomfortable after your previous thoughts, so when the noise of a zipper being pulled down and the weight of fabric on your shoulders brings you back to reality, you snap your head around at him all alarmed. 

“What? Wear it,” he says, head shrugging towards the direction of his jacket on your figure. “You’re gonna catch a cold if you don’t.”

Trying to wrestle out of the red material, you squirm in the hold of the windbreaker– Eric’s hands gripping each side of the jacket, as if predicting your next moves, making sure it stays on you and doesn’t fall down. His strong arms tug you closer to him to make your fight more difficult– and he’s successful with his efforts, because the proximity of him and his smell engulfs you and unarms you, heat rushing to your cheeks as you halt in your movements.

“Stop,” you mourn, “I don’t need it.”

“Yes you do,” he insists, “so stop being a baby about it and wear it.”

Staring into his eyes, as if to mentally tell him to stop what he’s doing– to stop how he’s treating you, how he’s making you all weak in your knees and sleepless at nights because of how much you think of him and hope he’s doing well each day, to stop being so gentle with you and taking care of you, because it brings all sorts of both doubts and delusions into your head– but he doesn’t back down. You’ve known him for quite some time, you should already be aware of just how stubborn he can be.

“Arms in,” he hums, holding on to the jacket and waiting for you to wear it properly. One thing about you– you can always admit your defeat. So, with a sigh, you put your arms through the sleeves of Eric’s red windbreaker, shrinking a little under his firm gaze. He looks at you with a look full of something you can’t decipher, and it’s all making you so, so insanely lost in the many thoughts and feelings swirling around your head, not helping your current state.

“I already have a brother, y’know,” you mumble in a moment of weakness, looking at your feet– your dirty white sneakers almost touching his from how close you are standing right now, “so you should stop treating me like one.”

A moment of silence overtakes you two, and you suddenly feel like you’ve done something wrong. Still, Eric’s hands are holding on to the sides of the opened jacket, keeping you close to him. “Hm?” 

Clearing your throat and shaking your head, you snicker to yourself. “Forget it.”

“No- I mean,” he blurts out, tone of voice a little nervous, “do you see me as your brother figure?” he asks, tone of voice more quiet now, more gentle.

Breathing in the crispy air, taking a moment before you reply, you shake your head in disapproval. “No,” you say, “no, I don’t. I- I don’t think I do,” you say, scared of what your answer will bring out of him. You don’t really know why, but at this moment, you feel insanely fragile– as if any bad move could make you break in his hands, waiting for him to glue you back together. 

Metaphorically, he does just that. “Good,” he nods, leaning down towards you, hands gripping the zipper of his jacket and zipping it together, making sure no cold can get to your bones as his fingers tug it up towards the very top, under your chin. “Because I’ve never seen you as my sister either.”

His answer once again startles you– but when you take a step back from the situation, you think it was in a good way. His hands grip your shoulders for a second as his eyes meet yours and he offers you a warm smile. “Come on, let’s get you home,” he says, tugging you towards the fence where you find his bike, his motions guiding you like a rag doll sucked out of all life.

“Hop in,” he motions towards the back of the bike, where the basket would usually be– Eric moved it towards the front, though, leaving enough room for you to sit at– and as you do, he takes a seat in front of you and looks back at you over his shoulder. “Hold on tight so you don’t fall.”

Like in a trance, your arms sneak around his middle– this was the first time you had this kind of physical touch with him, and just the thought of it makes you want to scream your throat out– before the male takes off on the bike, riding towards your neighborhood. With the cold wind slapping your face, you foolishly rest your cheek on his shoulder blade and close your eyes, enjoying the closeness of his body keeping you warm. 

If anyone asked you about the action, you’d tell them you were just tired.

DECEMBER OF 1999

Socked feet make their way through the room, the sound of footsteps resonating on the laminated floor, as the short male comes up to you with a bowl of potato chips in his right hand and a bottle of soda under his left arm. Eric Sohn sighs at you, shaking his head in disbelief, before he places the items onto the coffee table and takes a seat next to you on the floor, opening up the bottle and pouring the three of you drinks.

“Can’t believe I’m spending New Year’s Eve with you losers, of all people,” Eric snickers, having you roll your eyes at the male and grumpily furrow your eyebrows at his sentence.

“No one’s stopping you if you wanna go, y’know,” you grunt as you take the filled glass off the table, taking a sip of the sweet drink and sighing at him. If he’s gonna take a leap into the new year with you while making you annoyed, he may as well leave now and do whatever his initial plan was– once again, no one’s stopping him if that’s what he wants to do.

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs, “it would’ve been so much more fun if we all went to Juyeon hyung’s. Everyone’s there celebrating, but we’re stuck here in your room.” 

“Well, Eric,” your brother smiles ironically at him, shrugging to himself, “it’s not like it’s my fault you’re not over at Juyeon hyung’s right now. You chose to spend the new years here with me. My mother prohibited me from going there, not yours.”

The argument has the male shrug, his eyes averting your brother’s gaze once his comment gets a bit too honest and realistic. It’s true and he’s right– it’s not like Eric’s mum told him he can’t go celebrate with his friends, because she didn’t. Eric’s mum trusts him and wants him to have fun and do what all the kids his age are doing. Your mum, on the other hand, is making you and Sunwoo stay home for New Year’s Eve to celebrate with your family, because, as she quoted, New Year’s Eve the only time she gets time off work, and she wants to spend it with her kids– forget the fact that you’re currently sitting locked in your room with your friend, protesting the family time just because you can– and when Sunwoo told her she has to stop treating him like a little kid, she told him she has all the right to do so, because he is her kid. And that’s how the party he was supposed to attend with Eric (the party you foolishly thought you’re gonna have to tag along to, not hating the sentiment as much as before now) got canceled from your brother’s plans.

“Well,” Eric chews on the inside of his cheek, “I did it for you two. Be grateful.”

“Whatever,” you hum, “let’s turn on the TV. I bet there’s some variety show on.”

Eric heaves out a sigh as he reaches for the TV remote, clicking the power button and making the boxy device in front of you light up. Your mum got you a TV in your room when you complained about being too bored one November day, and although the box of entertainment didn’t really help like you imagined it to, you’re glad it’s of service at least today. Instead of the expected variety show, though, there’s news on– the face of the old announcer looking at you with a serious look on his face, the professional tone making chills run down your spine, for he reminds you a bit of your mother when she scolds you. You think that’s a common news announcer trait. 

“As the year 2000 approaches, computer programmers realize that computers might not interpret the 00 in the software as 2000, but 1900. The softwares currently running only use a two-digit code for the year, excluding the 19. The data was excluded because the data storage is costly and takes up too much space. Activities that were planned on a daily basis could be damaged or flawed,” the announcer says, making the three of you look at the screen with interest. Maybe it’s true that when you get older, you get more interested in news– you think it’s good to know what’s going on around you, although the topic discussed right now might not even concern you in the slightest.

“Banks, which calculate the interest rates on a daily basis, could face real problems. Interest rates are the amount of money a lender, such as a bank, charges a customer, such as an individual or business, for a loan. Instead of the rate of interest for one day, the computer could calculate a rate of interest for minus almost 100 years!” 

“Oops,” Eric lets out next to you, a reaction so far away from what a real adult would think of the situation. See, you are all just kids, after all.

“Centers of technology, such as power plants, are also threatened by this issue. Power plants depend on routine computer maintenance for safety checks, such as water pressure or radiation levels. Not having the correct date could throw off these calculations and possibly put nearby residents at risk,” the announcer continues, the information coming out of his mouth suddenly making you hyper aware of the reality you’re experiencing right now.

“Do we have a nuclear power plant nearby?” you ask in a hushed whisper, watching as the men next to you almost comically widen their eyes, shrugging.

“I’m not sure,” Sunwoo peeps.

“The worst of all, this software and hardware issue could cause such a big problem in nuclear energy facilities, where nuclear bombs and missiles could be set off, causing the world to go into utter chaos, or worse, an end,” the announcer concludes, the last word making you gasp in terror. 

“An end?” you chirp, sitting up straight in your seat as you look at the two men, now equally as terrified. There’s something in Sunwoo’s gaze that makes chills run down your spine, the reality crushing down on you with heavy measures. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have fought with mum. What if the last words the two of us exchanged before we die are the harsh words I had said yesterday?” your brother mourns, seeing as his best friend chews on his bottom lip, lost in thought.

“What did you say to your mum?”

“That- that I’ll never forgive her for ruining this for me,” he mumbles, his voice breaking at the end, “and… other things,” he adds, the hint of incoming panic making his best friend frantically wave his hands around and try to make your brother relax before he has to deal with the breakdown. If the world is ending, this is not how any of you want to go.

“It’s okay, don’t worry,” Eric says, clearing his throat and pointing to the TV, “look! The show is on, we should watch before the year ends,” he proposes, taking the remote into his hand and turning the volume up to hopefully drown out Sunwoo’s thoughts and have him focus on something else. And it works– noting that your brother has an attention span of a 5 year old– he can hardly remember what he was worrying about just 30 seconds ago.

Still, the thought keeps bouncing around your head like a child in a bouncy castle. The words of the news anchor keep repeating in your brain, making your ears ring as you look at Eric from the corner of your eye, watching his angelic face. Oh how you hate disturbing the peace now that you’ve all calmed down– but still, you can’t deal with the worries alone. Checking the clock hung above the TV, noticing there’s at least 5 minutes left before midnight, you clear your throat, feeling your whole body on fire.

“Do you really think the world is gonna end?” you ask, cracking your knuckles in a nervous manner. Looking at Eric, pupils shaking, you find your brother’s best friend seemingly lost in thought. The music of the variety show program serves you three as a background sound now, none of you paying attention to the TV anymore, instead, focusing on all the things you've done wrong in your life and how somehow, this feels like karma for all of it.

“I dunno,” Sunwoo shrugs, “I mean- they said it’s possible! It was on the news, and they wouldn’t lie on the news…” he nervously mumbles, scratching the back of his head. 

“That’s what’s worrying me,” you sigh, “we shouldn’t have turned on the TV.”

“It was your idea in the first place!”

“And I’ll carry the burden into my grave,” you admit, gulping as you press a forced smile onto your lips.

Momentarily looking back at the TV, you desperately want to keep the thought of the world being over out of your head before you spend your last minutes on this earth going crazy– but now that you started, you can’t keep thinking about it. “Man, the world can’t end yet. There’s so many things I haven’t tried yet! I’m too young to die!”

The men don't reply to that– you presume they’re too busy trying to find other things to occupy themselves with instead of the inevitable– which has you dissatisfied as you throw your body back into the sofa, heaving out a sigh. Seconds go by painfully slow but also painfully fast at the same time, given the circumstances, as you listen to the cheerful song playing in the background and nudge your friend into his upper arm with your pointer finger, feeling his arm encircle your shoulders and pull you closer to him. The contact of his fingers on your upper arm makes you squirm and break out into a smile, feeling a particular lightness in your stomach at the action, a sensation that has you in shock. 

“I’m gonna talk with mum before we die,” Sunwoo suddenly calls as he stands up from his seat on the floor, sighing to himself, “I can’t go with the thought of her being upset with me,” he sentimentally adds before he’s out of the door, rushing towards the living room.

The space falls into momentary silence now that your brother is gone, having you chew on your bottom lip with nerves. You think now is the time to beg for forgiveness with the higher forces– I'm sorry for not studying well. I'm sorry for being rude and ungrateful towards my mum. I'm sorry for being greedy– when the sound of Eric’s voice resonates through the place as he speaks up again, waking you up from the anxious slumber, the clock now striking 2 minutes before midnight. “What would you wanna do before you die?” he asks.

The question is simple. You presume he wants simple answers– things like getting into college, getting a good job and making a lot of money, growing old– but as you lean away from him and get back to your place on his left, your eyes locked with his, you’re left clueless. There are so many things you have yet to achieve, and the idea of not being able to pushes a burden to your chest, but at this very moment, you can’t really name one. 

Shrugging, you chew on the inside of your cheek as your eyes scan his face. His firm eye contact has you a bit flustered, making you shrivel in your seat, and as the sound of the TV morphs from the song into a countdown from 55, you’re overwhelmed with the thought that your friend is insanely pretty– and he always has been, you just hated admitting it to yourself for the past few months, despite still being fully aware– and that now, when the world ends, you’re dying unkissed and alone.

Well, not completely alone, since Eric’s here. And he’s always been here– your whole life, since you can remember, and he’s here now as well, even though he should’ve been at Juyeon’s house. As the clock strikes 30 seconds away from midnight, your eyes involuntarily travel down to his chapped lips, all air knocked out of your lungs, the thoughts in your brain picking up on speed the closer you come to the end.

You’re dying soon. You’re dying in 30- now 29 seconds, and you’ve never kissed anyone before. You’re dying before you get a chance to hold hands with someone and have a partner, and you’re dying before you get a chance to tell Eric how you feel about him. There’s 28 seconds left until the end and you’re just staring at him like a coward, because you don’t really let yourself indulge in the silly warmth of your heart whenever you’re around your friend, but god, you can at least admit it to yourself before you die.

And as the clock gets closer and closer to midnight, now only giving you 20 seconds before it all ends and a missile lands on the top of your house, blowing up the whole town and making you all disappear, Eric’s question repeats itself in your brain. What would you want to do before you die?

The answer is suddenly painfully clear as you take action– leaning towards the boy on your right, face closer to his than it’s ever been before, your eyes counting all his eyelashes and focusing on his surprised, yet unmoving face– and as you hear the countdown reach 15, you close your eyes and press your lips against his. 

The contact makes you weak in your knees as your hands reach to his face to steady him, your own firework show erupting in your stomach, and suddenly you’re completely content with dying tonight– because at least you’re with Eric, at least you did something. You kiss your friend with something close to an unsaid confession, your lips staying on his throughout the rest of the countdown, the taste of soda you’ve both been drinking the whole evening mixing in the contact of your skin. You’re not sure you’re even doing this right– again, you’ve never kissed anyone before– but it doesn’t matter to you much as you let go of your worries, aware of the fact that in a few seconds, nothing will matter anymore when neither of you are going to be around to say anything to each other after the kiss is over.

The countdown rings in your ears– coming down from 5 as you scoot yourself closer to Eric, 4 as you run the pads of your thumbs along his cheekbones, 3 as you still in your movements, 2 as you notice your knees bumping into each other on the ground and finally, 1 as you get ready to die, kissing your first and only love– when the sound of cheers and fireworks from the TV fills your ears instead, the world around you stilling and completely unchanged.

Your kiss started in 1999 and ended in 2000. Your love for him passed a century.

Eyes fluttering open and your mouth letting go of his, the image of the boy with his lips slightly parted, eyes closed and cheeks rosy comes to you in the yellow light of your room, making your heart fall down to your stomach. He looks absolutely angelic, his hair slightly messy and the fabric of his shirt a little disheveled in the front, and even though you’d love to indulge in your foolish desires and kiss him some more, you’re quickly taken aback with the noise of the door to your room opening and making you jump away from Eric, your brother appearing out of thin air in the presence of your room. It serves you like a weird kind of reality check, Eric’s eyes opening and looking at your brother, and even though you two haven’t been caught, the male clears his throat and bites down on his lower lip, looking almost guilty.

Oh no. What have you done?

Suddenly, you feel insanely silly.

JANUARY OF 2000

“You’ve been awfully quiet the whole day,” Sunwoo mumbles from beside you, his whole body engulfed in a pile of snow, “not that I care, but are you okay?”

“I thought you liked it when I don’t talk,” you mutter, playing with the frozen white all around you, seated on the red plastic sled at the top of the hill. You got tired after dragging it up from the bottom, and when you noticed that the rest of Sunwoo’s friends– Eric included– are still on their way up, you figured you could use up the time to relax and sit around for a while. It’s been quite some time since all of Sunwoo’s friends gathered to hang out at the same time, which made you surprised to see that your own brother invited you to tag along with them as they decided to go sledding on the second day of January, using up their break to best of their abilities. Which is also why you didn’t say no to the invitation– you thought sitting at home and moping around wouldn’t help you much.

“I do,” he says, nodding, “that’s why I’m asking what’s up– so I know what to do when I need to shut you up later,” Sunwoo hums, making you roll your eyes at the masked worry.

Shaking your head in disbelief, you scoff. “It’s nothing.”

“Sure,” he shrugs, “so you’re just going through puberty?” he teases, to which you take a handful of snow into your palm and lunge the white at him, satisfaction running through your veins when the snowball lands into his unsuspecting face, the male coughing and swatting his arms around to defend himself.

“Hey!” your brother screams at you once he gets the ice out of his eyes and his mouth, his body jumping into a standing position before he chases you around, the bubble of a laugh escaping your throat for the first time these days– they’re not wrong when they say malicious joy is the best kind of joy.

Running at the top of the hill, not really looking where you’re going– instead looking over your shoulder to see Sunwoo’s actions, preparing yourself to duck if he decides to turn your small quarrel into a snow fight– your legs get tangled with the red sled you left before you started a war with the angered man, a yelp cutting out of your throat as you get prepared to fall over and knock your teeth out.

Your body comes in contact with something half-firm, half-soft, and as your feet slip and the snow-covered ground disappears from below your legs, two arms wrap around your waist and steady you, making sure you don’t get hurt.

Turns out Eric Sohn is there to catch you every time you are about to eat shit. You hate this kind of deja vu.

As you open your eyes (that you had closed on instinct, not wanting to see your own death) once you’re sure you’re safe and sound, the world around you invites itself into your ears in an overwhelming noise. The laughter of Sunwoo’s friends– some hollering at your fall, some at the redness and last remains of snow covering your brother’s face– and the hushed arguments over who’s going down first– with Haknyeon screaming that he’s stealing Sunwoo’s (yours) sled and Juyeon following him. After all those happening in the matter of a few seconds,  you realize you’re left on the top of the hill alone with the male, terror shaking through your insides.

Clearing your throat and taking a step back from him, you tuck your hands into your pockets and avert your gaze from Eric. You two haven’t spoken since you decided to kiss him on New Year’s Eve, and with the awkward tension in the air, you don’t feel like doing so ever again in your whole entire life. 

“Thanks,” still, you hum.

Eric seems a little more light-hearted than you, shrugging as he replies to you. “Haven’t I told you to start watching where you’re going?”

“I’m not good with listening sometimes,” you mutter, huffing. Taking a look around yourself– noticing that there are no sleds left on the top of the hill, therefore, if you wanted to escape the situation, the only way down would be to roll around like a human version of a snowman, you once again admit your defeat, standing around nervously and shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

The silence is uncomfortable. It makes you want to dig a hole in the snow and bury yourself alive, to suffocate under the weight of the icy cold and never see Eric’s face again. You know that you ruined whatever friendship you had with the male– by being stupid and foolish, not really thinking about consequences (because there were supposed to be none and you were supposed to be dead), and the weight of the guilt makes you want to puke and hide away. 

Still, Eric comes out of his way to talk to you. Honestly, you’re kind of surprised– he should be disgusted with you. Realistically, he should be the one avoiding you, not the other way around.“They’re gonna take long to walk back up,” he notes, “wanna get hot chocolate with me?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you shake your head, not once breaking eye contact with the overwhelming white of the hill.

“Come on,” he sighs, “it’s just around the corner. They built a hot chocolate stand because they knew kids would come sledding here. Honestly, it’s an astute business tactic, but I promise the hot chocolate actually tastes nice,” he says, nudging you slightly with his arm, as if to make you look at him and change your mind.

“Thanks, but no,” you definitely say, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Are you avoiding me?” he asks, tone of voice casual– as if it was the most normal thing in the world, as if nothing ever happened and he was genuinely curious about the reasoning behind your actions.

“I’m not, I just don’t really like hot chocolate,” you sheepishly mutter, trying hard to avoid the topic.

“So you are avoiding me,” he hums, as if it wasn’t obvious before– and not only because you’re a bad liar. Plus, you love hot chocolate. Somehow, you think Eric knows.

“Look, Eric,” you sigh, running your hand through your hair, “can’t you just drop it?”

“No,” he shrugs, shaking his head, “and that’s why we’re talking about the reason why you’re avoiding me over a cup of hot chocolate. Let’s go.”

His persistence is terribly overwhelming sometimes. You wonder how the male does it. “I already told you-”

“You owe me for the stickers and the meal and everything,” he corners you, and you know you can’t argue with that. He’s kind of right, you suppose– you never paid him back for all the chocolates or for the free meal he brought you that one evening. And that’s exactly why you find yourself sighing as you follow him, mentally preparing yourself for the talk.

You hate how he can always get his way. Walking up to the stand, you crack your knuckles in the pocket of your jacket, nervously coming up with possible arguments to tell him. I didn’t kiss you on purpose, it was an accident. I only did it to know how it feels. We are both supposed to be dead, it’s not my fault the world didn’t end like it was supposed to! Each sentence sounds more stupid than the previous one, and so with that, you shake your head, wiping the thoughts away, smiling at the elderly lady in the stand. You’re just gonna have to be honest, you figure. 

“Two hot chocolates, please.”

Rummaging through your pockets to find your wallet– you do owe Eric, so it’s only natural for you to pay– you’re caught off guard as the male next to you swiftly takes out his own and unzips it, preparing to pay for you. 

“I thought I owed you?” you mumble, hand reaching to tug at his forearm to stop him, to which Eric only grins at you and sighs.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you have to pay,” he says.

“I think that’s exactly what that means.”

“Just take it,” he huffs as he brings out a note from his wallet, the force making something else fly out and fall to the ground with it, having the boy swiftly crouch down and pick the item up, attempting to hide it before you get a chance to see. And now, you don’t have 20/20 vision, but you recognise your face when you see it– that, and you also recognize the small white sheet to be a polaroid picture, and as far as you’re aware, you’re the only one who has a camera in his circle.

The boy hands you the drink with red-tinted cheeks. The idea of him carrying a picture of you that he took back in September makes you flush as well, and when your gloved fingers accidentally meet as you take the cup from him, he forces out a laugh. “We can talk about that after you tell me why you’re avoiding me.”

His nonchalance has you relaxing only for a few seconds. The boy walks with you as you try to heat up your cold hands on the boiling surface of the cup, and when you see a bench a few meters away from you two, you instinctively take a seat.

“So?” he becomes you, eyebrows rising as he takes a sip from the melted sweetness.

Sighing, you try to come up with the best way to go around this. Do you apologize? Do you promise to never do it again– and you won’t, even though you want to so badly and his lips look surprisingly soft today? Furrowing your brows at the war in your head, you place the cup on the bench next to you and put your head into your hands, hiding away from him when you realize the only way to do this is to be completely, utterly honest.

“I’m just so embarrassed, Eric.”

The only noise meeting your eardrums in the moment is the faint yelling of the crowd sledding in the background, your companion remaining quiet for a bit. When he sees you won’t explain yourself, he goes ahead and asks the question. “Why?”

“Do I really have to spell it out for you?” you sigh, not believing his so casual composure.

“Maybe,” he laughs, the airy sound taking all breath away from your lungs.

Well, not all of it, since you have enough oxygen to go on a tangent, it seems. “Because I kissed you, goddamnit. And- and I don’t even know why I did it, honestly, I’ve never thought of kissing you before! It’s just- when I heard the world is ending, I realized I hadn’t had my first kiss yet, and that just felt like such a miserable way to die, and then you asked what I wanted to do before I die and I couldn’t think of anything else,” you say, progressively taking out your head from your hands and facing the male, big eyes staring into his soul. 

To your surprise, he doesn’t seem mad. Or disgusted. Or any of the reactions you expected, really. Eric stares at you with a soft, but amidst a little star-struck look in his eyes, and you’re suddenly painfully aware of every slight shift in his composure.

“Did you kiss me because you wanted to kiss me, or because you thought the world was gonna end?” he asks, awaiting your answer.

And if you’re being honest, 2 days after New Year’s Eve, you do admit the thought of the world actually ending sounds a bit stupid. Why did you even believe that theory? Why did they talk about it so seriously on the news? They tricked you into ruining your own life. 

But still, nothing can be done about it now. “Both,” you admit, shrugging, “I… I kissed you because I really didn’t want to die unkissed, but also… I wanted it to be you, y’know? Like… I thought we were really going to die, and so I thought kissing you might be a nice way to go. I really wanted to spend my last moments with you, I guess,” you sheepishly say, averting your gaze from the male.

Eric offers you his silence again after you’re done explaining. While you do admit you feel a little tense to hear what he has to say, you also realize you feel lighter now that it’s out in the universe and out of your system. A major weight was taken off your shoulders with the confession, and suddenly, you’re kind of glad that your friend was so assertive and insistent on talking about this– who knows how long you’d go before managing to face him. You think you could honestly go on… forever.

Taking a sip of the luscious liquid, you feel your body warm up once the anxiousness slips away from your bones. The boy next to you hums, making you face him with expecting eyes. “Then why were you avoiding me?”

Sighing, you shake your head. “I just told you. I’m starting to think you’re the one that’s bad at listening.”

“No,” he laughs, “that’s still you. Because if you were good at listening, you’d remember me telling you that I’ve never once seen you as my younger sister.”

Shrugging, kicking the pile of snow in front of you with the tip of your winter boots, you’re not quite following. “So?”

“So you should’ve realized that I’m not doing all of this,” he theatrically swings his arms around, “for nothing, you know?”

“All of what?”

“Taking care of you. Feeding you, helping you collect those stupid animal stickers, walking you home…” he mumbles, sighing. “Keeping your picture in my wallet,” he adds with a playful tone, making you smile.

“I thought you were just being a good friend,” you shrug.

“I don’t keep a picture of your brother on me at all times,” he says, tugging off his gloves. The sleeve of his jacket rides up a little as you watch him take his cup of hot chocolate off the bench, surprised (and flooded with warmth) to see the ugly friendship bracelet you made still adorning his wrist.

Grinning to yourself, excitement welcoming itself into the tips of your fingertips, you shrug. “So?” you mirror your own question from a little while ago, wanting him to say it to you instead of relying on your own brain– you think there’s still a possibility of you just being too delusional to see the reality for what it really is. You need to make sure you’re not imagining things.

“So,” he starts, sighing to himself as he turns a little in his seat to face you, “you should stop avoiding me, because I liked the kiss. And you. And we should probably do it again, because I didn’t get the chance to kiss you back the first time,” he says, once again taking all oxygen out of your lungs with the casualty of his preposition.

Locking his eyes with you, having you two staring at each other like two rays of sunshine warming up the cold January, he grins. “How does that sound?”

“Good,” you breathe out, “very good.”

The male takes it as an invitation as he scoots himself closer to you on the bench, his body turning a bit to face you. His free hand cups your cheek, leaning closer to lock his lips with you like he asked you to, your eyes fluttering close at the proximity, the fuzzy feeling in your stomach already expecting to kiss him again. The situation feels a little too idyllic to be real, though– you should’ve expected it to get ruined again.

Something cold and wet comes into contact with the side of your face, and when you sharply open your eyes, you see Eric staring at you with shock and terror in his eyes, the snow dripping down the side of his face as well. Whoever threw the snowball has good aim, you think– managing to target two people at once (even though your faces were that close to each other that it probably wasn’t even that hard), and before you get a chance to look around and see who cut off your kiss, there’s a scream coming from the left side of the two of you, the sound of feet quickly darting in the snow landing into your ears.

“Eric Sohn, what the fuck do you think you’re doing with my sister?” the voice hollers, and before you get a chance to react, the said male fastly stands up from the bench and runs to the other direction, laughter resonating all throughout the place as Sunwoo and his friends chase their shortest friend down.

Snow starts falling as you watch your brother tail his childhood friend, and with a foreign sense of warmth, you get reminded of the birthday wish you made while blowing out the candles on your seventh birthday.

You wished for someone just like Eric. You didn’t know the universe would be so kind to give you him instead.

#bjnet #the boyz #eric sohn #the boyz x reader #tbz x reader #tbz fluff #eric sohn fluff #eric fluff #eric x reader #eric sohn x reader #tbz scenario #tbz fic #the boyz scenario #the boyz fluff #the boyz imagines #sohn youngjae #youngjae x reader

[stupidlittlespirit]

Claustrophobia

Rating: NSFW, mdni Type: Longform, smut Tags: Trapped in a closet, Dubious consent, premature ejaculation, dry humping, fingering, no pronouns but female body described, slight gaslighting, Reigen being a disgusting pervert, female body described and skirt/stockings but no pronouns. Word count: 9,140 (sorry it's so long) My other works: here on tumblr and here on Ao3!

Reader and Reigen get locked in a closet during a job gone wrong, and Reigen doesn't know how to behave. (inspired loosely by @vasiktomis's fic)

Reigen isn’t in the habit of taking solo jobs he can't handle alone. Not anymore, anyway,

He's learned that, quite understandably, no one can be reasonably expected to just drop what they’re doing to serve his whim when he finds himself facing a threat bigger than the boots that he places himself in sometimes. Nowadays, he sticks to what he knows and picks the work that's least likely to result in an untimely death. Without any psychic abilities of his own, Reigen tends to go for the less spiritually-inclined call outs.

When he'd taken this job, he had assumed it to be one of those times.

The client, Kawasaki, had bemoaned a supposed ghostly presence lingering in a rundown property of his, causing damage and defacing the place, and stopping him from renovating the house for new tenants. As loath as Reigen had been to help a landlord, the price of the job had been decent enough to convince him otherwise and so he had taken it on.

Kawasaki’s description during his consultation had sounded like nothing more than squatters or trespassing teenagers looking for somewhere quiet to make out. Serizawa had agreed; broken locks, leftover beer cans and abandoned trash aren’t common signs of spirits and so Reigen had thought little of attending without any psychic backup. If he can manage without Mob or Serizawa, he will. They’re both busy enough, it wouldn’t do to drag them away from their studies or their friends for no reason. Besides, Reigen is confident enough in his own ability to handle things, for better or worse.

Still, he isn’t dense enough to wander into an abandoned den filled with potentially unfriendly squatters and disgusting creepy-crawlies all on his lonesome. Reigen can be stupid, but he’s not dumb. Instead, he had requested (see: demanded) the help of the only other person in the office he knows rarely has anywhere else to be: You.

He’s well aware that you don’t have much going on outside of working hours and you’re usually moderately willing to stretch your legs a bit when the day has been slow. A person can only stand to look at paperwork for so many hours a day, he supposes.

When you’d asked why, exactly, he needed you of all people to join him, Reigen had been blunt: “I’d rather not get stabbed over a property dispute, if that’s alright with you. Plus, I need someone to keep an eye out for roaches.”

According to his expert assessment, the work would be simple: Get in, sweet talk the people inside into moving along, and collect the fee.

Except, as is often the case, nothing Reigen ever does is simple.

When the two of you arrive, the building is empty. There isn’t a single sign of life nor death inside the entire house and he isn't really that surprised. The place is absolutely rotten. Dirty wallpaper peels from place, the once rich-looking wooden fixtures are soft and stained a gross green colour, their usual glossy surfaces dull and sickly, and the interior is so degraded that he's not sure how the landlord intends to salvage the place, regardless of damage done by potential unwelcome visitors.

Sleeping on the street would be preferable to staying here.

“So much for squatters,” he hears you mutter, the beam of your flashlight swinging around the room. It skims from tattered floorboards to broken down shelving, circuiting the room as you turn on the spot in search of the client’s woes.

“Maybe they left,” Reigen says, peering into a side room. “Makes our job easier anyway.”

“I wouldn’t hang around here, I know that much,” you sigh.

“Why?” Reigen smirks. “Not scared, are you?” He can never pass up on an opportunity to provoke you. You’re always a breeze to wind up and Reigen would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy watching your hackles rise. He’s proficient in the art of being a dick, especially when it comes to you.

You roll your eyes at his attempt. “You wish. We should check upstairs at least, just to be sure.”

Reigen agrees, though in his ever chivalrous nature, he invites you to be the first one to brave the weak looking staircase. Each step you take up the rickety stairs is cautious, ensuring you won’t fall straight through the rotted wood and accidentally impale yourself on an exposed nail, and Reigen follows your footsteps perfectly.

It’s even darker up here. The windows are shuttered, boarded up tight beyond a few ripped out panels, and there doesn’t appear to be anyone hiding in the rooms; they’re equally as dilapidated as the ones downstairs. There are remnants of life in the house, though, besides the leftover trash: discarded boxes filled with long-abandoned books and menial belongings, old furniture and forgotten blankets, but they all appear to be as old as the home.

They’re covered in grime and clearly haven’t been touched much. The squatter theory looks weak without fresh signs of habitation, but there’s always the chance people are breaking in to snoop around.

Dust particles catch in the light beams of your torches as he takes you deeper inside, glittering and wispy, passing through the air like tiny little fairies uprooted from their hiding spots. Reigen swallows a sneeze and turns away from you, covering his nose and mouth with the sleeve of his jacket.

Dimly, he supposes he should have gotten masks for you both; the last thing he wants is a health and safety insurance claim on his hands if you inhale something gross. “If you see any asbestos, keep your distance,” he warns. “I’m not paying your hospital bill.”

“Thanks,” you reply, tone so dry it’s practically parched. “What does it look like?”

“No idea,” says Reigen, shrugging. “But don’t breathe it in.”

“Asshole.” He can almost hear you roll your eyes and he bites down on a grin.

The air is much cooler upstairs, icy enough to permeate Reigen’s suit and he suppresses a shiver as you follow his lead down a long hallway.

Despite his confidence in the office that the presence of a spirit here would be unlikely, he can’t help but feel nervous. Downstairs had been gross, but upstairs feels decidedly…. Unwelcoming in comparison. Like something is waiting for you both, hidden in the darkness and waiting to strike.

He knows it’s probably his imagination. This isn’t his first rodeo and usually a spirit makes itself known the moment he pokes around a bit. You’re just paranoid, Reigen thinks to himself, get a grip.

Your voice breaks through the silent air: “Can you feel that?” You whisper, coming up close behind him.

Anxiety rolls off of you in waves and Reigen can sense how tense you are even at a distance. He really ought to be a decent boss and offer some reassurance to the least experienced member of his team. You’re not usually the one who’s dragged into spooky places like this with little to no preparation; your expertise extends to paperwork and filing cabinets, and with no Esper abilities to speak of you’re completely exposed to danger. Reigen is too, he supposes, but he’s used to charging into unfriendly dens of danger without much care for his wellbeing.

He should be considerate and give you some warm words of comfort, offer to protect you if all hell breaks loose, yet he knows you’re not the type to cling to him like a frightened fawn and he’d only insult you if he suggested anything of the sort. Instead, he decides he’ll break the tension in a way that only he knows how.

He pauses at your front and you almost walk into the back of him, too busy looking behind you to pay attention. Reigen puts a hand out to keep you steady. “What do you mean?” He asks, glancing over his shoulder at you.

“I’m not sure,” you say, flicking your flashlight around in the darkness. “The air…. It feels heavy, don’t you think?”

Reigen hums and comes to stand behind you, swapping places and standing close enough that his chest bumps your back. “Actually, now that you mention it….”

Without a word, he reaches past you and motions for you to raise the flashlight a little, and you do as you’re asked, pointing it towards an empty room just off of the corridor. The beam is too weak to fully penetrate the darkness as you point it inside however, and the light barely makes a difference.

“What is it?” You whisper, craning your head around to see if you can spot whatever has caught his attention. The light is swallowed by the black expanse and it makes it seem as though the building is ten times as big as the distance you’ve just walked.

Reigen doesn’t answer your question.

The silence is deafening.

Reigen is so close to you that he can see the hairs rise on your arms in his own torchlight and he’s quite pleased when you lean away from where you’re pointing the light, pressing back against him unconsciously in order to distance yourself from whatever might lurk in the shadows. You might not be the sort of person that needs protecting, but he can’t deny that something stirs inside himself at the thought of you seeking him out for support anyway.

Nothing moves in the dark.

No one speaks a word.

It’s the most perfect set-up Reigen could imagine.

“Boo!”

His hands grab at your sides as he shouts right down your ear, as loud as he can manage. The scream you let loose is close to inhuman and in a pure panic, you lurch away from the source, scrambling aside until your shoulder collides hard against the wall. You swing your torch out violently in a feeble attempt to protect yourself from the unseen threat and Reigen dodges the heavy lump of metal, laughing his head off at his wonderfully successful prank.

The watery light lands on his doubled over form, collapsed against the opposing wall in a fit of ugly giggles, his body shaking with the force of it. He cackles at the terrified sight of you, hands still outstretched from where he’d seized your waist. “Your face!” Reigen gasps, struggling to breathe through his fits. “Man, you’re too easy!”

It doesn’t take a genius to see that you’re very admirably restraining yourself from throwing the torch at his head. You look like you’ve had the fear of God put in you, face paling and eyes wide, clutching at the ruined walls like a cartoon cat on the ceiling. The big grin that splits Reigen’s smug face suggests he’s overjoyed that he’s gotten such a reaction from you; he always is.

Furious, you lash out with one foot to kick at his shin. “Fuck off!” you hiss, breathless with fright. “Fucking asshole!”

Still laughing, Reigen nimbly avoids your attempted assault again. He looks far too pleased with himself and as soon as you can breathe again, you flounce off down the hallway and make your way back towards the staircase, leaving him pitched against the doorframe whilst he tries to get his breath back.

The darkness clearly doesn’t seem as frightening to you now that it’s clear the biggest threat in here is your jerk of a boss and you stride back the way you came, ignoring Reigen’s half-hearted shouts for you to wait. He won’t let you get too far without him. Although the house is empty, it’s still run down and dodgy as fuck. The last thing he wants is for you to be so angry with him that you fall down the stairs or cut yourself escaping his mean spirited jokes.

“Wait a second!” Reigen shouts, still struggling to sound completely serious. He scrambles after you, following the sound of your heavy footsteps as you stomp back the way you’d come.

“It’s not funny,” you snap over your shoulder. “Get lost. You can go-!” Your sentences halts halfway through, cut off almost comically, and Reigen is mildly disappointed that you’re not throwing rabid insults his way.

“C’mon,” Reigen cajoles, pushing his luck as he rounds the corner to the landing. “Don’t be like that, I thought you could take a joke!” He’s still got a stupid grin on his face as he comes closer and he takes a breath to say something else when abruptly he realises you’re standing stock still in place.

You look even more terrified than you had moments earlier and briefly, Reigen worries he might have caused permanent trauma “What is it?” Reigen asks, suddenly sounding a lot less jovial. “I didn’t scare you that badly, did I?”

At the foot of the staircase, the floorboards squeak and a foreign voice speaks aloud into the damp air: “I thought it was funny.”

He freezes mid-step, one foot suspended in the air. The voice doesn’t belong to anyone he recognises and judging by the look on your face, it doesn’t belong to anyone you know either. A cold and unpleasant sensation slides down the back of his neck, like a fat droplet of ice water trickling along his skin. The heavy, dense atmosphere is back, even worse than it had been when you’d first come up here.

Cautiously, like he’s afraid the room might explode, Reigen edges toward where you’re standing. You don’t look at him at all, eyes fixed on whatever has spoken at the foot of the staircase, and it makes Reigen’s blood run cold again. Very slowly, he ekes his flashlight up from where it points at the floor to join yours and shines it’s weak beam towards the source of the sound. It illuminates the bottom most stair and as he raises it higher and higher, the form of an impossibly black figure reveals itself.

It’s vaguely human shaped, except the limbs are longer than they should be and they’re bent at uncomfortable angles, like it’s stuffed into the space it crouches in. The thing is big enough that it takes up the entire doorway at the foot of the stairs and it seems to almost absorb the light of the torch, watching the two of you closely with a featureless face. No, not quite totally featureless. Rather than have eyes or a nose, or any other defining characteristic, It has a big, horrible smile, made up of crooked teeth that peek out from behind non-existent lips.

Reigen hears your breathing hitch in fear and this time, his responsible boss attitude does take over. He curls a hand around your wrist and inches in front of you, sheltering your body with his. The spirit is big. Bigger than the usual ones he faces off against. With only a bag of salt in his pocket and a hopeful prayer in his heart, Reigen knows he’s limited in options on how to deal with this. There’s no Mob and no Serizawa to back him up. He’s on his own for this one and he really doesn’t want to give you the impression that he can’t handle things by himself.

Maybe he can use the only trusty weapon he has in his arsenal: His mouth. Reigen holds his free hand up in an innocent gesture. “Sorry,” he says, plastering on a fake smile. “Didn’t mean to disturb you. We were just, uh, exploring….”

The spirit makes a sound of disgust, like two rusty metal sheets rubbing together, and it begins to crawl up the stairs, inch by inch. “Exploring each other, more like. Why is it always my house you kids come to fuck in?”

Reigen chokes on his tongue, his face burning. “Hey, come on, it’s not like that!”

“Of course you are, you’re all the same.” The spirit’s mouth draws back into an impossibly wider grin. “Why can’t you just get handsy in the car like everyone else?”

“Fuck off,” you snap, though your voice is weak. “No one’s coming to this shit hole to have sex.”

The spirit’s grin turns downward into a furious scowl and Reigen barely predicts what’s about to happen in enough time to yank you away from harm. The grotesque creature launches itself upward, its long limbs allowing it the capacity to make short work of the remaining stairs, and it lunges straight for the both of you with a snarling shout of indignance at your insult of its home.

Reigen manages a shout of warning before he yanks you aside, grabbing your hand in a bruising grip, and he pulls you out of the thing’s path with all the strength he can muster. You have the good sense to let him manhandle you across the landing, abandoning your torch in favour of hanging onto him, and you stagger alongside towards the hallway again.

The creature crashes against the wall at the top of the stairs, the force of its strike knocking over the old furniture that’s been discarded there to grow mouldy and old. The wood crunches horribly on impact and Reigen is always impressed by the way spirits, for such non-corporeal beings, manage incredible ways of destroying their far more material environments with ease. Right now, however, he’d rather not go the same way as that chest of drawers. He doesn’t plan on dying in a place like this and there’s no way he’s about to let you meet a grisly end either. He’s far too fond of you for that.

The spirit has the stairs cornered, which leaves little else in the way of an escape route. Reigen has no choice but to take you deeper into the house and hope to lead the thing around in a circle to free up the stairway. Barrelling down the corridor, Reigen is running blind. He realises he must have dropped his flashlight in the chaos, too, because everything in the house is so incredibly dark that he feels like there’s a bag over his head. It’s almost impossible for him to see where he’s going, there’s no way he’ll be able to get his bearings well enough to loop the property like this.

That is, until a sliver of light from another room catches his eye. Reigen pivots on his heel at breakneck speed and heaves you sideways with him through the open doorway, ever the nimble little weasel. He slams the door shut behind you and scans the room for a hiding place, breathing hard and keeping a tight, sweaty hold of your hand.

“What do we do?!” You gasp, out of breath from both the running and the fear. “We can’t get out, what do we-!”

“In there!” Reigen points across the dim room. On the far side past a broken down bed and several piles of boxes and filthy duvets, there’s a slim little closet. It’s the only thing in here that seems to still be whole and mercifully preserved from the rot that’s infected the rest of the building. It’s the best bet either of you will have at staying hidden.

Reigen doesn’t wait for you to answer. Instead, he lugs you towards it and wrenches open the doors, tumbling inside. Reigen’s back hits the wall as he flattens himself against the interior, his body folding awkwardly in order to fit into the cramped, tight space, and he hauls you in after him. You’re all elbows and knees as you land on him, scrabbling for purchase in a panic, and your body shoves at his while you try and find your balance in the darkness.

He pushes you against the opposing side, his hands clutching your waist to stop you from wobbling and falling right back out into the open, and his legs tangle up between both of yours. By some stroke of good fortune, you have the presence of mind to snatch the doors shut after yourself. They close with a mercifully quiet click! and then it’s just the two of you, panting hard and fast into the dimness as you listen for signs of your undead pursuer.

Several somethings clatter around in the hallway, followed by the sound of breaking glass and a frustrated growl, and Reigen strains to hear if the sounds are moving any closer to the bedroom you’re sheltering in.

After a few long moments, however, nothing comes.

Reigen breathes a silent sigh of relief and then feels you shift in place. You’re virtually painted onto his front, your chest squashed against his own and your face not even half an inch away from his. It dawns on him that this is quite the intimate position to be in with a person he’s supposed to be in charge of, and he feels the cool sweat of adrenaline turn into lukewarm awkwardness.

You tilt your head a fraction to give yourself a bit of room to speak and your lips brush up against his cheek. “What were you thinking?!” you scold him in barely a whisper.

“Huh?” Reigen murmurs back, trying to ignore the sensation.

“We’re sitting ducks in here,” you breathe. “If that fucking thing finds us, we’re dead!”

He hadn’t really considered that. The closet is tiny and dark, only a tiny filtering of pale light from a broken window board across the room reaches through the thin slats sitting just above your heads. It smells like dank old oak and probably a few different cultures of microorganisms. The only thing there’s room for in here is mould and dust. Neither he nor you will be able to escape if the spirit figures out where you’re hiding.

“Just shut up,” Reigen mutters, flexing his hands on your waist. “Stay quiet until it gets bored and then we can sneak out.” It’s a weak plan, but it’s all he has right now.

A few rooms over, something crashes against a wall and you flinch against him.

Reigen can feel the warmth of your body seeping into his own through your clothes, your breasts brushing the front of his shirt, your hips locked with his own. Your arms are forced almost around one another, both of you clinging to the other’s sides. Perhaps it’s the excitement of the chase, or maybe the thrill of escaping yet another near-death situation, but Reigen’s blood feels like it’s catching alight. He’s warming up all over, perspiration beading at his temples, and he isn’t quite sure how to stop it. Were he to purse his lips, he might even accidentally kiss you.

Reigen is technically in charge of you. It’s well known in the office that all of you work side-by-side, however on the paperwork side of things, he is legally your superior. He’s supposed to uphold a certain air of respectability around his colleagues yet when it comes to you, he finds that responsibility getting more difficult by the day. You argue back and forth with him, always ready to challenge his overpowering confidence when it starts to get out of hand, and he can tell you enjoy the verbal sparring as much as he does.

There’s something unsaid between you both, something heavy that’s only been building over time, but Reigen is too afraid to drop his façade of being The Boss Of You to investigate it further in case he’s read the entire situation wrong. If you were to refuse him, to laugh in his face, he'd never live it down. He couldn't handle such a dent in his ego and he'd rather die than admit it aloud.

He does his best to hide it when he chances little looks at you and so far he’s only been caught out on his less-than-professional observations once, by Ekubo. Horrible little fiend that the ghost is, he’d caught Reigen sneaking a peek at your ass as you’d cleaned a cupboard in the staffroom, chatting away to him and none the wiser of his perverseness; you’d been on your hands and knees, half disappeared into the space under the sink, and Reigen had seized the opportunity to drink in a spectacular view of you from behind.

Your skirt had risen ever so slightly too high, revealing the top of your stockings and the thin sliver of the clips that held the fabric in place, and Reigen had lurked silently in the doorway, watching closely and committing the sight to memory.

Until, of course, Ekubo had materialised out of thin air, as he is so often wont to do, grinning lasciviously, and scared the shit out of Reigen so badly that he’d almost tumbled backwards out of the room. Despite the rude interruption, he’s never forgotten the sight.

Reigen knows it's wrong, that it's fucked up that he'd view a staff member, a friend, like that, and yet he's never had the willpower to put a stop to it. Images of you in raunchy positions just like on that day have haunted his mind on late, lonely nights whilst his hand has wandered into the waistband of his underwear of its own accord.

He’s fully aware that he shouldn’t be jerking himself off every night thinking of you stuck under the sink, unable to get away from his curious hands, but he can’t ever feel guilty enough to think of anything else.

Right now, he wishes he'd at least tried. The memories of those imagined scenarios are stirred up by your closeness and he thinks, distantly, that if he'd tried to be a good person for once and made an effort to ignore them then he might not be struggling as much as he is currently. He’s never intended for you to find out about his fantasies and getting caught short like this is probably not going to go down well. He needs to stop thinking about all of this before it gets out of hand.

The sound of floorboards groaning out in the hallway outside makes you startle and you squirm between his legs, straining to look through the slats of the door. One of your thighs rubs up into his crotch, sleek material gliding against his suit, and he’s reminded that you’re wearing another skirt today; the smoothness of your legs means you’re more than likely in stockings again and the memory rears its head. Reigen grunts softly, gritting his teeth. “Stop it,” he grinds out quietly. “Quit moving.”

Much to his distress, you don't. Rather than obey his command, you use his body to push yourself further up to peek out of the slats and Reigen is forced to tighten his hold around your middle, dragging you back down. If you won't stop, he's going to have to make you. He digs his fingers into your side, bunching them up in the fabric of your shirt and pulling it downward to still you.

“Let go of me, you idiot,” you hiss, attempting to pry off his grip and straighten up. “I can't see!”

Reigen is sure you don’t intend to do it but the motion of your movement forces your hips to rock forward into his and he bites down on his lip so hard that he thinks he's drawn blood. He attempts to move away again, only to bump his knees against the wall under you. Reigen sucks in a sharp breath, ready to snap at you again to force you to back off, until the door to the room you're in bursts open like a group of police officers exercising a warrant. It slams against the wall loudly, the whole thing vibrating with the force. Nose to nose with him, you share a look of panic.

Something lets out a rattle of breath outside.

Reigen leans his head aside to press his mouth against your ear. “Don’t fucking move,” he says, barely audible, and he does his best not to notice the way you tilt your own head to let him fit in closer. His breath is hot against your skin and if he isn’t mistaken, you might even shiver a little.

The creature outside prowls into the bedroom, grunting and growling to itself as it searches between littered furniture for the two stowaways. Its nails scrape on the floorboards, the sound getting louder and louder until it pauses, right outside the closet. There’s a chittering noise that reverberates in Reigen’s chest and just beyond the wood, barely a hands-width away from your heads, the spirit sniffs up and down the seam of the closet. It sounds like there’s something wet caught in its throat, each draw of breath a phlegm filled rattle, and it scratches its claws on the door, seeking out any living forms within.

The spirit smells foul. Its scent is somewhere between death and rancid meat, and Reigen swallows against the saliva that rises and swims in his mouth, trying not to gag. The freezing air on its dead breath ruffles the hair at the tops of your heads and washes you both with the scent.

A swaying cobra, its form moves across the light that filters into the cupboard, turning it murky and dark but not quite removing it entirely, almost as though it’s trying to peer inside despite its lack of eyes. After a few minutes of unbearably intense silence, the spirit seems to give up on sniffing you out. It lashes out at the closet doors with its talons, tearing into the surface of the wood, before turning tail and lurching out of the room to continue its search elsewhere.

The aggressive swipe it takes at the closet makes the whole thing rattle loudly, bouncing the doors inward with force, and you jolt as though you’ve been hit. Instinctively, Reigen turns his head to check that you’re not hurt and at the same time, you turn yourself into him even more, afraid of the thing lurking outside. In the tight space, with barely even enough room to breathe, the motion forces your mouths to slot together. It can hardly be called a kiss; you’re doing little more than exchanging oxygen with one another, yet it’s so close to one that Reigen’s body betrays him almost instantly.

On your breath, he can smell the sugary strawberries you’d eaten on the way over here and again his mind conjures images, unbidden, of your lips wrapped around the fruit’s soft flesh as you’d eaten them in the passenger seat of the hire car, of the smile on your face when he handed them over; a bribe from a stopover at a gas station to stop your complaints about the long drive and an entirely selfish gesture on his part, purely for the reward of your attention (and perhaps, too, for the guilty pleasure of watching you lick your fingers clean when you’d finished).

The thought reignites the heat in his body and almost instantly, all of the blood in his brain sinks to his crotch. Reigen gets hard so quickly that he almost passes out. He isn’t sure where he finds the resolve, but somehow he manages to hold back the tiny little groan that threatens to spill from his throat, instead breathing in sharply through his nose at the sensation. Reigen’s eyes flutter shut momentarily, both in pleasure and in anticipatory fear of the look on your face.

He knows you must have noticed; his suit fabric is cheap and thin, barely a barrier to hide behind, and with your own legs exposed by your skirt there’s no way you could miss it. The weak light allows him to make out that you glance down and then back up to him.

Embarrassment burns on his face.

“It’s my cell phone,” Reigen lies without hesitation, defending his pride before you can even begin to question it. “Don’t flatter yourself.” He knows better than to throw out an insult to protect his own decency, however he’s starting to panic a little more than a seasoned sleuth should be and it has nothing to do with a ghostly presence.

You clear your throat softly and nod, looking away. The smirk on your face only makes his cheeks burn more; you’ll never let this go if he doesn’t act fast and distract you. “Look, we need to make a run for it while we still have the chance,” Reigen says quietly, trying to will away his arousal as best he can. “We open the doors and sneak back to the stairs. Don’t say a word and follow my lead, got it?” He’s being stricter than he usually is, partially to conceal his humiliation and partially because he needs to put his mind to something that doesn’t involve his dick.

“Sure thing, boss,” you whisper back, and Reigen can hear the amusement in your tone. He chooses to ignore it. When you get back to the office though, he’s going to make you clean that damn sink again in penance and he won’t feel the slightest bit of guilt for watching you do it. Maybe this time, he’ll even take a picture for his private collection….

Lower down in the closet, the light is completely swallowed again by darkness and Reigen has to blindly take one hand off of your waist to slide it along the door until his fingers bump against the knob. He takes hold of it and twists, attempting to push the door outward slowly. Except, the door doesn’t move. It doesn’t even budge. Confused, Reigen twists the metal further in case he hasn’t moved it around far enough and tries again. Still, nothing happens.

“What are you waiting for?” you say, frustrated.

“It won’t open,” Reigen grunts, rattling the doorknob as hard as he dares. He can’t afford to make too much noise and draw the spirit back towards you both, but he can’t risk losing the chance to run for it, either.

“Please tell me you’re fucking kidding,” you say in a strained whisper. “Reigen, stop messing aroun-”

“I’m not!” Reigen growls, jiggling it again. “I can’t get it- it won’t open!” He applies a little more pressure, wrenching it back and forth a few more times until, after one particularly frustrated yank, there’s a sickening crunch of dead wood and more light pools into the closet via a new, small hole.

He’s ripped the entire thing off.

“Oh,” says Reigen quietly.

You stare at him in utter disbelief.

“This place is falling apart,” Reigen says, immediately protective of his screw up. “It isn’t my fault-”

“You pulled the fucking handle off, Reigen!” Your voice rises momentarily before you wrestle it back under control at Reigen’s rather brusque shhh! “You pulled it off,” you repeat, far quieter this time but still distressed. “We’ll be trapped in here for hours, you idiot!”

You’re right. The only two people who know you’re both here are Mob and Serizawa. Mob is busy with friends and it’ll take Serizawa a little while to catch on that something is wrong. The job is about forty minutes from the office; allowing for travel and the time it takes to complete the work, Reigen can safely estimate that it’ll be a while before your absence is questioned. That means he’s going to be stuck in this stupid little closet, half hard and totally distracted, with you glued to him for a long time.

He tips his head back against the closet wall and sighs, closing his eyes as he tries to wrack his brain for potential options.

Reigen wonders if he should just try throwing himself at the door and facing off with a hungry spirit. It might be more preferable than his current situation, at least.

It’s uncharacteristic of you to be so mute when Reigen fucks up, and after a few minutes of miserable silence he opens his eyes again to check that you’re still there. You are, of course, but there’s a look on your face that Reigen rarely sees you wear. Despite the shitty light, he can just about make out that your eyes are becoming wide, gaze darting around the closet, and he can feel your chest beginning to rise and fall far quicker than normal, just like it had when he’d made you jump. Your breath is coming in fast, short pants and your hands grasp at the front of his shirt.

You’re starting to panic.

Abruptly, Reigen remembers you confiding in him a while ago whilst the two of you had watched some terrible horror movie together, lounging around in his apartment one evening, about how much you disliked the thought of being trapped.

The protagonist had been buried alive and you’d barely been able to finish the rest of the movie, too caught up in the anxiety of the scenario to remember how unlikely it would be for a similar fate to befall you. You’d clutched his arm so tightly that he’d found a small bruise the next morning in the shower and he can still recall how excited he had felt to have a souvenir of your presence….

Focus! Reigen warns himself, straightening up as best he can to force himself back into the moment. Now isn’t the time!

He squeezes your waist gently, a reassuring reminder that he’s right here with you. “Calm down, I’ve got it all under control,” Reigen lies through his teeth, slipping back into his false bluster the moment he knows he’s fucking things up. “We can wait until the spirit goes back to sleep and then-”

“Spirits don’t sleep!” You snap. “I’m not waiting-”

“They totally do!” Reigen replies, annoyed that you’re questioning his ever profound knowledge. “Look, I’m the professional here, you don’t even come out on jobs so why don’t you just-”

“You got us stuck in here in the first place, mister professional,” you say angrily. Both of your voices are stage whispers now, caught between concealing your presence and yelling at one another. “There has to be a safety release in here!” Your body twists viciously as you squirm around, hands flitting across the inside of the closet in an urgent attempt to free yourself from its confines.

Somehow, despite the tiny space, the ferocity of your search manages to turn you around until your back is flat against his chest instead, your body ramming his.

Reigen is torn between biting his own tongue off in frustration at the feeling of you writhing against him and yanking you closer to seek more contact. He drops the doorknob onto his foot, praying the sound will be muffled enough that it won’t draw attention and freeing up his other hand to grab a hold of you before anything more mortifying occurs. He needs to distract you, for his sake and yours.

“Hey, stop!” He attempts to prevent you from going any further, wrapping his arms around your waist and anchoring you down. “Easy, just stay still-”

“Get off of me!” you snap, tilting your head toward him and wriggling against his grip even harder. With every move, your ass bounces off of his lap and Reigen prays to whatever god is listening that he doesn’t make any more of a fool of himself than he already has today. The sensation is sinful, like he’s fucking you with your clothes on, and Reigen isn’t sure that he can hold out like this.

“Wait,” you pant, halting your search in the darkness to reach behind yourself for his slacks’ pocket. “Your cell phone, you said you brought it in, right?” You slide your hand down behind your back, right past his midriff, and grope around for the lifeline, palming at whatever you can reach. “Call Serizawa, he can exorcise that thing and let us out!”

Those gods must be laughing at him.

Abruptly, Reigen lurches his body aside, feebly trying to avoid your intrusive touch and acutely aware that his lie is about to be found out. “Stop,” he begs you softly, starting to panic himself. “Please. You gotta stop touching me or I’m gonna-” He drops his hands from your waist to grab yours where they rest, halfway into his pockets and you wrestle with him for a second to try and move him away. Reigen swears under his breath.

The proximity and your wriggling make a horrible, delicious concoction and his body reacts accordingly: Reigen is hard again. He can’t fight it anymore, not with your hands so close to his cock and your breath so hot against his cheek.

What happens next is a complete accident, an automatic move he makes before his brain catches up: Hands clamping down around your waist, Reigen purposefully rolls his hips into the soft curve of your ass, hard enough to gain the exact, exquisite friction that he’s been denying himself the entire time he’s been in here with you. Everything occurs so fast that he just about has time to clamp his hand over his mouth to stifle a pathetic little sob as he cums, hard, in his pants. He squeezes his eyes shut, stars blooming behind his eyelids, and pants desperately as he tries to catch his breath.

At his front, you’ve gone very still.

For a few minutes, no one speaks. Only Reigen’s ragged breathing and the sounds of birds somewhere way off beyond the confines of the house fill the silence, until you finally find your voice again: "Seriously?”

Reigen isn’t a stranger to making an idiot of himself, but this is definitely a new low for him. He knows how much trouble he’s going to be in when the two of you get out of here and he can practically smell the oncoming harassment lawsuit wafting through the stale air. Although, maybe that’s just the scent of his sweaty embarrassment….

Ever keen to save face though, Reigen does his best to play stupid. “What?” He asks, voice frayed at the edges.

“Did you just blow your fucking load-”

“Absolutely not-!”

“My ass is wet, Reigen,” you hiss. “I can feel it through my skirt!”

The thin material around the front of his slacks is soaked through, he knows you can. “No, it isn’t,” he scoffs, denying it without hesitation. “You’re imagining things.”

“Liar.” You tilt your hips back minutely, just enough to rub up on his spent erection, and Reigen breathes in sharply. “I didn’t realise you were so into ghouls and near death experiences,” you whisper, sounding amused in spite of your annoyance.

“It’s not a ghoul,” Reigen corrects automatically, mouth moving independently of his brain. He swallows thickly and shifts in place. “And even if something like that did happen,” he says, trying to sound dismissive. “It’s because you won’t stop moving, it’s only natural.”

“That’s… A pathetic excuse,” you admonish, head tipped back toward him. “Even for you.” Your tongue darts out to wet your lower lip, however in such close quarters, the motion effectively wets the corner of his, too. Hot spit brushes against his lip and Reigen’s mouth parts almost of its own accord, an automatic reaction to the stimulus. The angle is awkward but your mouths slide together, the slickness of the skin unbelievably arousing.

“S’not an excuse, it’s your fault.” Reigen protests weakly, lips catching against your own as you nudge your nose along his cheek. He knows he should really apologise for his indecency, that he should try to find a way out of this situation as quickly as possible, and yet…. That heavy, unspoken feeling that so often follows him around when he’s with you is filling up the interior of the closet like thick cotton wool. Your words are sharp and stinging, but you don’t seem to be as disgusted as you sound. It makes his head swim and his legs feel weak, and in some kind of unfortunate miracle, Reigen can feel his cock stir with interest again already.

“You’re really blaming it all on me? You’re the one who dragged me along to this and you’re the one who got us locked in this closet.” You laugh quietly under your breath at him, disbelieving and more than a little entertained. “God, you’re insufferable.” You press backward again and Reigen chokes back a whimper.

“I told you to stop-”

“Stop what, boss?” you ask, feigning innocence, and fuck does he hate how much you’re able to get under his skin. No one else toys with him like this, teases him. No one else dares to question his leadership or to wind him up until he explodes. No one else except you.

Reigen grits his teeth so hard he swears he feels them creak under the pressure. “If you don’t quit moving around like that, I’m not going to be held responsible for what I do next,” he grinds out. He knows you’re provoking him on purpose and he shouldn’t fall for it so easily, but he’s powerless like this and if there’s one thing Reigen hates; it’s feeling fucking powerless.

“Oh? And what are you going to do about it?” You ask, words heavy with ridicule. “Cum in your pants again?”

Reigen has had enough of your attitude.

“Fine,” he snaps. “You want to play dirty? Let’s see how you like it.” He’s been aching to touch you for so long; if this is the only chance he’s going to get, he’ll take it. Reigen isn’t one to watch opportunities pass him by. He wants to grope and grab and feel his way all over you, and he just doesn’t have the willpower in himself to resist it anymore, especially when you’re winding him up like this.

Reigen’s hands drop from where they hold your waist, inching to your hips and down to grope at your ass. It’s just like every wet dream he’s ever had about you; you’re stuck with nowhere to go, at his mercy as he touches and grabs whatever he can reach.

You breathe in sharply at his touch and your back arches, silently seeking his attention. “That’s so inappropriate,” you whisper, and he can hear the smirk in your voice. You don’t mean a word you’re saying. “I should report you.”

“Oh yeah? So do it,” he challenges, pawing at the curve of your backside greedily. “I’m sure they’d love to hear all about how you started it.” It feels like a dam has broken inside him, a flood that he’s held at bay for so long that it’s too overpowering to put a stop to now that it’s begun to overflow, and without your outright refusal, Reigen feels justified in his act. His hips rock forward again and he shudders, his own arousal not forgotten.

At his front, you snicker to yourself at his neediness to chase the feeling and he feels one of your arms snake upward to loop around his neck, your hand clutching at the back of his hair. The action prickles goosebumps along his skin.

“Fuck,” Reigen gasps as he moves, words tumbling out in soft pants. “You couldn’t just stay still, could you? Moving your ass like that, in your stupid fucking skirt and your stupid fucking stockings.” As his hips roll into you, his fingers travel to your skirt to find the tops of said lingerie and he runs his touch up the nearest strap of your garter belt.

You make a soft sound of surprise. “Stockings? How do you know I wear stock-”

Reigen pings the elastic, cutting off your words and making you gasp at the sensation, your fingers tugging at the strands of his hair. Reigen smirks, pleased to finally get the upper hand even if only for a moment. “I’ve seen them before, in the office- drives me fuckin’ crazy, ” he pants into your parted mouth. “Every time you bend over, your skirt is too short.”

“It is? I had no idea….” You pout, lower lip touching his. The words are faker than Reigen’s confidence and it makes him grin.

“I knew it,” he says, ego emboldened. “Tease.”

“Pervert,” you fire back with a smirk, legs opening a little wider as his curious hand trails up from the band of the lingerie toward your inner thigh.

“D’you wear them every day?”

“Only when I know we’ll be alone together,” you confess.

Something about your admission turns Reigen on even more. The thought that you’re only wearing them for him, for his attention, is mind blowing. He can imagine you slipping them on in the morning, thinking of him as you study yourself in the mirror before you leave for work. Reigen squeezes your ass again and uses the leverage to his advantage as he continues to work himself against you, head filled with the intimate images.

His fingers slip up your leg until they brush against the crotch of your underwear, the curve of your pussy hidden underneath. Much to his pleasant surprise, he notices that he’s not alone in his needy desire. He can feel that you’re similarly affected by the closeness, enough wetness seeping through the lacey fabric that he suspects you might have been aroused for just as long as he has. “Look at that,” Reigen teases softly, a smug grin spreading on his face. “Acting so high and mighty when you’re just as desperate for it.” He can’t deny the swell of narcissistic pride that rises in his chest; he’s making you wet. You. The object of his obsession, the person he’s only ever dreamt of having like this. It’s his touch that has you keening and sighing, even if you won’t admit it.

You scoff, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Am not-!” Your protests are smothered in favour of a hushed groan as Reigen’s thick finger nudges past your underwear and slides easily up into your cunt, your wetness offering no resistance at all.

“You were saying?” Reigen smirks, slowly inching his finger in and out, bit by bit. You’re so warm and tight around him, hips grinding down, back and forth in time with his motions. Every movement has your ass rubbing on him and Reigen lets out a shaky sigh as he presses up to meet you.

His dick strains against the fabric and silently, he wishes he had the room to free himself and fuck you silly. Now that he doesn’t have to pretend to be anything but the perverted mess that he is, Reigen ruts against your ass like a dog in heat. The enclosed space feels stifling with both of your bodies heating it up, sweat pooling at the back of his collar as he works himself up all over again. He knows he'll look a mess by the time you both manage to escape this place.

You’ve begun to make pretty little sounds against his mouth, hushed moans mixing with his desperate pants as he works his finger inside you and it’s so obscene that Reigen almost finishes on the spot. You’re both making too much noise and at this rate, you’re at risk of getting killed if the spirit returns to find you both doing exactly what it had accused you of breaking in for. Reigen knows he needs to quieten down and find a way to shut you up, too. In the fraction of free space between you, he nuzzles his mouth to yours. Although what you’re engaged in is amorous enough, the gesture is so intimate in comparison that it makes his heart flutter. “Can I kiss you?” Reigen asks, surprisingly timid considering how vigorously he’s fucking your ass.

Debauched as you are, you roll your eyes. “Finally,” you murmur. “He asks.” You sound almost relieved by his request, as though you’ve been hoping he might offer such a thing, and Reigen grins to himself.

When he kisses you, it’s sloppy; messy, unskilled and full of spit. He licks his way into your mouth enthusiastically and sighs at the touch, a trembling breath that whistles through his nose and dampens the skin of your cheek. You grunt at the force but you allow him to continue, coaxing his tongue with your own in an attempt to slow him down. Reigen doesn’t listen. He’s too confident in his own ability to take advice from you and far too excited to calm himself down anymore.

Between your legs, he presses a second finger into you, relishing in your gasp of pleasure. You’re so wet that his palm is quickly becoming slick with your arousal as he pumps his fingers and Reigen relinquishes your mouth with a lewd smack. “Fuck, you’re really into this aren’t you?” He says, bumping noses with you. “So wet and-!” Reigen’s words end in a choked off moan as you let go of his hair and drop your hand to reach behind you, cupping his cock mid-thrust.

You grasp him firmly through his damp slacks and let him grind into your grip. “You’ve got a big mouth, Reigen,” you pant, teasing. “Someone ought to teach you how to use it.”

Your hand is all he needs. Reigen is too greedy to stop himself when he knows his end is near and even if he wanted to, he’s helpless to stop it. He ought to at least try and hold on, to make up for his earlier premature finale and prove that he’s good at this kind of thing so you’ll think he’s somewhat of a decent fuck and maybe even ask for it again, but he just can’t.

A tension builds in his lower stomach, red hot and carnal, and then he’s cumming all over again, spilling into his already-filthy underwear. Reigen shudders violently, seizing you in another clumsy kiss. He almost bangs heads with you as he attempts to cover the pathetic little moans that bubble up out of him by smothering them into your mouth. Reigen’s knees feel weak again and he slumps against the closet wall behind him, breathing hard and totally spent.

You tip back the short distance with him and laugh . “So soon? I was just starting to enjoy myself….”

The back of Reigen’s neck heats up and he curls his fingers. “Sounded like you were enjoying yourself plenty,” he snipes, out of breath but still able to find a sharp-tongued reply.

You choke on a moan and wiggle your ass to encourage him. “I could stand to enjoy myself a little bit more,” you say, cheeky.

Reigen grins. He might be selfish when it comes to his own pleasure, but he won’t leave you high and dry (or wet, as the case may be). “Relax,” he whispers against your ear, cocky now that he can have you at his mercy instead. “We’ve got plenty of time, you said so yourself, right?...”

•••••

In the end, it takes Serizawa three hours to come to your rescue. He exorcises the spirit and frees you both in under five minutes, and when you finally return back to the office, Reigen still has you clean under the sink before he lets you go home for the day.

reader during this fic like

#reigen arataka x reader #MP100 #Reigen x reader #self insert #reader fic #Reigen Arataka/reader #mob psycho 100 #mob psycho reigen #reigen arataka #reigen is gross #reader insert #interaction banners by cafekitsune #smut #reigen arataka x you #reigen arataka x y/n #i hope this is okay bc i hate it #they don't get it reigen im kostrafobic!!!!

[redroses07]

JJ Maybank Dating HCS // SFW + NSFW

A/N: Hey guys!! This is just a collection of my thoughts on what I think dating JJ would be like! Sorry if any are a little too cheesy. I can make a part two if you guys want, and maybe a Rafe version upon request. Anyways hope y'all enjoy! Love u guys! ♡⋆˙

SFW

Literally the sweetest boyfriend you could ever ask for, he has a temper but would never ever hurt you.

You are literally his everything, like when I tell you this man worships you. No matter what he is doing, if you need him he will be there.

One time he was hanging out with Pope and John B, and you called him crying. There wasn't a car nearby and he didn't want to waste time looking for one, so he no joke ran to your house. It wasn't far, but it was far enough for him to nearly collapse at your doorstep when he arrived.

"JJ, are you alright?"

"Mhm- now that m' with you baby."

I feel like whenever y'all are going out he would act all silly and say something like "Your carriage awaits m'lady" in a fake British accent when he picks you up. Then he'd kiss your hand and open the car door for you.

I think his love language is either physical touch or gift giving.

He's definitely a PDA person, like he's always got his arm around you when you're with your friends.

Sometimes he takes it a little overboard and Kie tells his that the two of you are disgusting.

"JJ stop stop." You giggled as JJ peppered kisses down your neck in front of the bonfire.

"Oh my God, just get a room already." Kie snapped.

"Oh shut up you're just jealous!" JJ says.

JJ knows he doesn't always have money to buy you things but that doesn't stop him from still giving you the most thoughtful gifts.

Once he found a patch of wild flowers, picked as many as he could hold in his hands, tied a ribbon around them, and gave them to you.

You of course loved them, and gave him the biggest hug.

SPEAKING OF HUGS!!!! JJ is totally the type to sneak up behind you and attack you with a hug.

This happens so often that you would think you'd learn to see it coming, but somehow he always manages to surprise you.

You squeal as JJ aggressively wraps his arms around your waist, smothering your face in kisses.

He's also the WORST about picking you up and throwing you in the water.

"JJ it's cold!!" you squealed in protest as he threw you over his shoulder.

"Oh well that's too bad!!" JJ cackled as he threw you off the pier into the icy water.

NSFW

HIS RINGS. This is probably weird but I don't think JJ takes his rings off when he fingers you. And I know DAMN WELL that cold metal feels so good.

I am a firm believer that JJ is a little munch. He loves loves loves to eat you out, especially when he's high. He's surprisingly good at it too, and definitely gets pussy drunk.

I just know that JJ could be super submissive at times, especially when he's had a long day.

When he comes home after a stressful day he wants nothing more than for you to relieve that stress.

"I need you right now baby, can you please take care of me." JJ whines. tugging at your clothes.

"Whatever you want, my pretty boy." You say, climbing on top of him.

I feel like JJ has a thing for doing it outside. Like whether it's on the beach, on his boat, or just straight up in the ocean.

You two cannot go to the beach alone at night without it ending with your clothes discarded off to the side.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #outer banks #obx x reader #obx imagine #obx fic #obx #jj maybank imagine #jj obx #outer banks x reader #outer banks fanfiction #obx fanfiction #obx smut #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x you #jj maybank prompt #outer banks smut #obx x y/n #obx x you #outer banks x y/n #outer banks x you #rudy pankow #outer banks fic #outer banks fluff #obx fluff #obx fandom #jj maybank fic #jj maybank fanfiction

[mvybanks]

the one where frat!rafe is sick

a/n: my first blurb for rafe🤭 i’m not really sure about this one but i promise you i have tons of ideas ready to be written (especially for frat!rafe) and i can’t wait for you to read them!! hope you guys like it!! (also, i had to make a different taglist for rafe since i wasn’t writing for him when i first made one, so add yourself if you want!)

warnings: none!

my masterlist

add yourself to my taglist <3

add yourself to my rafe taglist <3

walking into the frat house your best friend lives at used to terrify you, especially when no one knew you nor about your friendship with rafe; you used to get so many dirty looks and that excruciating fear in the pit of your stomach at the thought of what these guys might be thinking about you, a young college girl who finds herself there on a daily basis, wandering through the halls of the many bedrooms.

however, it didn’t take long for everyone to understand your reason to be there and to look away or smile only in a greeting manner whenever you enter the big doors that lead to the house. many are the parties you’ve attended with your best friend’s arm around your shoulders and a death stare on his face towards whoever dared to look at you in the wrong way. now, you walk into the living room of the building with confidence, recognizing a couple of faces.

“yo, y/n!” rafe’s roommate, nate, is sitting on the couch, a beer in his hand as he calls your attention to him.

“hey,” you walk over to him, “have you seen rafe? he told me to meet him at our bar but he wasn’t there.”

everyone knew what you meant by ‘our bar’, basically the only place off-campus where you can sit, relax and drink without being interrupted by the other guys at the frat every minute.

nate raises one eyebrow at you, “you don’t know? dude’s sick. been throwing up all day, fucking disgusting, if you ask me.”

you furrow your eyebrows in confusion: why wouldn’t he tell you?

“oh, uhm…i guess it slipped his mind or something,” you nervously gnaw on your bottom lip as you look at the stairs that lead to the bedrooms.

what if he’s only avoiding you?

he shrugs, “probably was embarrassed. didn’t want his pretty girlfriend to see him like that,” he says in a mocking tone before making disgusting kissing noises.

you push his head back against the couch’s headrest, “oh shut up. you know we’re just friends.”

he snorts, “yeah, right.” a moment passes before he realizes how worried you are, “you can go to his room, you know? wouldn’t be the first time.”

“i’ll just go to check on him. i’ll be right back.”

your feet take you up the stairs and lead you to his room. why didn’t he text you to tell you he was sick? was there someone else in there? not that you would care, of course, he’s just a friend after all.

a friend that brings you flowers when you’re sad and that randomly buys you jewelry that he noticed you like. a friend whose grip on you tightens when he sees someone showing interest towards you and that you have accidentally kissed two weeks ago when you got extremely drunk.

just a friend.

you knock on the door and the sound of a groan of frustration rumbles from the other side. when rafe finally shows himself, you know his friend wasn’t messing with you about him being sick. his skin is paler than usual, his nose is all red, sniffling every time he takes a breath, glossy eyes, messy hair and that old sweater of his, that you’ve stolen countless of times, hanging loose on his exhausted body.

“y/n,” he all but gasps, in shock at seeing you outside the room, “i didn’t know you were coming.”

his voice is raspy and raw, and you guess he probably has a sore throat as well.

“yeah - no, we were supposed to meet-“

“right, shit,” he facepalms, “i’m sorry, i totally forgot.”

you smile, “‘s okay,” you shrug. “nate told me you were sick. can i keep you company for a bit?”

and god, how can he say no to that sweet grin of yours? his hands itch to touch you, but that’s exactly the reason why he couldn’t tell you about his state, he can’t keep his paws off of you when he’s in your presence.

“i don’t think you should stay here. you’re gonna get sick, too, darlin’”

you roll your eyes playfully and gently push at his chest, giving yourself space to enter the room.

you completely ignore his words, “are you taking some medicine? did you go to the doctor?”

he goes to lie on his bed and sends you a weak smile, although you soon realize it was supposed to be his signature smirk, “why? you worried ‘bout me, sweetheart?”

you sit next to his lying body, his head resting right next to your thigh as you run one hand through his hair, “you’re an idiot, cameron,” you say, but the smile on your face tells him you don’t care.

“mh, you love it,” his head presses against your thigh, comforted by your presence.

you chuckle, however it dies in your throat as your hand brushes against his forehead, “rafe, you’re burning hot,” you gasp.

“jeez, we really gotta work on your flirting skills, sweetheart.”

you push his head back, “i’m serious. let me see what i have in my pursue.”

as you try to raise from the bed, his hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you.

“do you need something else? i can bring you some soup or something,” you continue.

he shakes his head and closes his eyes, “god, i wish i could kiss you right now,” he whispers.

you almost choke on your saliva, your jaw going slack at his words.

“you must have a very high fever, you’re delirious,” you try to laugh it off.

he whines, his blue eyes staring at you now, begging you to listen to him because he’s not sure he would be able to say this to you if he weren’t feeling like he’s about to pass out.

“y’know how i feel ‘bout you, darlin’; ‘s not a secret. when you kissed me that night - shit. was so glad you were drunk, ‘cause if you hadn’t been, ‘m not sure i would’ve been able to stop.”

you swallow thickly; your best friend wants you as much as you want him…is this a dream?

you look down at him and you can see in his eyes that look; the one he gives you when he takes care of you, when he says how much you mean to him, when he calls you ‘his girl’. the one you can’t resist.

you bend down to kiss his forehead, sweaty from the fever, but you don’t care. your hand gently rests on his cheek before you let your forehead touch his as your noses brush together.

“i believe you,” you whisper, “but you’re still sick and i have to take care of you. will you let me?”

he nods weakly.

once you give him some tylenol, that you, thankfully, always bring in your purse, you lie with him, his head resting comfortably on your chest. your hand keeps a cold washcloth on his forehead while his arm is wrapped around your torso, basking in the wonderful feeling of being in your arms. meanwhile, the promise of a kiss lingers in the air.

#rafe cameron #obx #outer banks #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron au #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe obx #rafe angst #rafe outer banks #rafe smut #outerbanks rafe #rafe imagine #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x female reader #frat!rafe

[wambsgansshoelaces]

hiii could you maybe write something about a first kiss with roman roy? I feel like he’s so unpredictable that it could be fluffy or angsty 💖

Vending Machine Oreos

Roman Roy x Reader

oneshot

anon I’m so so sorry this is so late!!! I hope I delivered though :( please let me know what you think and enjoy x

honestly I’m kind of worried because I’ve been struggling with life and my writing’s been suffering because of it so I’m really sorry if this seems unrealistic or rushed or just bad. I hope you guys like it anyway!!!

Word Count: 2.215k

“Roman!”

“What?” he snaps back, not bothering to look up from his desk.

“You’re going to make us fucking late! Come on!”

“It’s not even- oh, fuck, you’re right.” He abruptly gets to his feet, slamming the lid of his laptop shut, and hurries out of his office, you not far behind.

Working at Waystar was certainly an experience. You like to say Logan Roy made you see red, and it’s a sentiment you know Roman shares. When you stop and think about it, you suppose that you’re making way too much money to actually care. Besides, Roman Roy is easy on the eyes. It’s not like all of him was so horrible. If you were honest with yourself, you never really thought he was such a bad person. He was kind to you, in his own neurotic way, and made sure all of his work was done on time. You actually find him kind of endearing, and you both happen to get along extremely well.

“Is the car outside?” he asks, pulling his coat on.

“It has been for ten minutes,” you say back, ushering him into an opening elevator.

“Why do we have to do this again?” he mutters to you in question, glancing at you sideways as you slide into your seat next to him in the car.

“Because your dad wants us to mingle,” you say bitterly. “Some new hotshot piece of shit to impress.” He sighs, turning to stare out the window and watch as New York blurs by.

The event building is large and lavish, the epitome of modern day architecture. The entire thing is floor-to-ceiling windows, and the interior does not let you down. This is the corporate version of a party. You’d spend the night milling about, pretending to listen to half-assed pitches while Roman fucked with all of the corporate jockies he hated. Logan had asked you in person for you and Roman to go. Something about the mind games he was playing with rivals and the fact that a Roy needed to be present at these kinds of things.

You and Roman get your coats checked, and you’re guided into the ballroom. The room is already bustling and half-drunk, and you mentally steel yourself for the next few hours. The two of you get roped into a mind-numbing conversation about stocks and bitcoin, so much so that when you look over at Roman, he’s staring up at the vaulted ceiling.

“And what about you?”

You don’t realize the question was aimed at you until after it hangs for a few moments.

“Sorry?” you ask, returning your attention to your peanut gallery of what’s only men. You notice Roman doing the same.

“We were talking about the whore houses,” an older one chortles, immediately causing your face to sour. “We were wondering if we would see you there. What with the job performance and all.” He laughs, a loud, gaudy sound that makes you want to vomit.

All of the heat rushes to your face. You are by no means bad at your job. But despite your confidence and your skill, you can’t help how disgusting you feel.

“I speak for all of us here when I say nobody would really mind if you were,” another, younger one chimes in. You all but gag. You throw a glance at Roman, pleading, but he looks just as uncomfortable as you are. Disappointed, you realize you’re not going to get any help from him.

Without saying anything, you turn on your heel and calmly make your way out of the ballroom. You feel like ripping your skin off. Maybe then the feeling of those eyes will get off of you then.

You stroll through the halls, trying to comfort yourself. You don’t expect it, but after your second lap around the complex, you find Roman at your elbow, reaching out to take you by the arm.

“Holy shit, I’m sorry. I should’ve said something,” he admits. “That was disgusting. They’re disgusting. I’m really sorry.” He pauses, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “I know that doesn’t help.”

“It’s okay,” you say quietly, rather unconvincingly at that.

Roman makes a face at you. “We both don’t believe that.”

“Really. It’s fine. I should’ve just made a scene so we could leave,” you say, attempting to lighten the mood, change the tone. Roman gives you his signature pout, refusing to take your word for anything. He’s worked with you for long enough to be able to sense when something’s wrong.

“Oh, come on.” He leans in towards you conspiratorially. “Wanna just ditch? Pretty sure I saw a vending machine while I was chasing you around. You walk way too fucking fast, by the way.”

He sets off down the hall, fishing his express card out of the zipper pocket of his dress pants. You follow, catching up so that you’re walking side by side. “You keep a credit card in your pocket?”

“Debit.” He hands it to you, and you hesitantly take it. He pats himself down, rooting through his other pockets. He fishes out some paper money and unfolds it. “Hey, look, five bucks.”

The card is sleek and impossibly expensive. You grip it tightly. Even though you don’t really know how you’d lose it, you don’t think you’ll know what to do with yourself if you do. “Do they even have vending machines in places like these?”

“Yeah, ’course they do. Saw it with my own eyes, anyway. Just told you,” he replies, letting you press the card back into his hand. He turns it over in his palm absentmindedly, eyes flitting about. “They just charge triple ’cause they know nobody’s checking the price.”

You both walk together for a short while, Roman getting a bit frustrated. He tells you that he was ‘just fucking there’ before a comfortable silence stretches, him focused on finding the damn thing. You don’t have to wait too much longer. “Hey, look, there’s an entire row,” you say, pointing.

“You know it’s fuckin’ crazy ’cause these aren’t even the ones that I saw earlier,” he mutters to you. “You like spicy chips?”

“Oh, you don’t need to get me anything,” you tell him after you process what he said. He sighs, turning back to the nearest vending machine.

“Cool. You’re getting Oreos.” Roman takes the crumpled five dollar bill and tries to smooth it out against the machine’s glass. You don’t think it’s going to help. That thing looks like it’s been through hell.

He presses a few buttons and inserts the bill. The machine eats it, and the small screen above the keypad flashes the word ‘PROCESSING’ in red, blocky text. You watch as the curly thing keeping the treats in the machine unfurls, pushing the sleeve of cookies forward, before it shuts, the cookies hanging on to the gadget instead of dropping so that you could get it.

“I feel like that shouldn’t be possible,” you say quietly.

“Fuck’s sake,” he says back. He bangs on the glass, and the sleeve sways. But nothing happens. Roman glances towards you. “Is this real? Are we in one of the most expensive fucking office buildings in fucking New York where the vending machines are holding my fucking Oreos hostage?”

You shrug, then fish out your wallet. “Here, put another five in,” you suggest, offering him another five. He pushes your hand back towards you, making a face, instead inserting his card into the machine. Again, a sleeve of Oreos gets pushed out. The previous ones finally fall from their position, but get stuck on the slot immediately below it. The same thing that happened with the first one then happens with the one just bought.

“This can’t be real,” Roman says incredulously. “Help me out, will you?”

He squeezes himself in between the vending machine and the wall, somehow managing to tilt the entire thing forward. You brace your hands on the front of the thing, keeping it from tipping all the way over. Carefully, you jerk your arms up, trying to shake the cookies free. A couple of tries later, a strange smattering of THUDS sound, spotty and horribly nonrhythmic. Roman peers out at you from his little nook, eyebrows raised.

You manage to get the machine back upright so that he can shuffle back out into the hallway. As you get your first glance through the glass, it’s painfully obvious a lot of what was once in the machine is now at the bottom for you to take.

“All this for only ten bucks is pretty good if you ask me,” you say, smile playing on your lips.

“Thank fuck this company is cheap in their manufacturing,” he murmurs back, grinning. He leans his back against the machine once you both hear footsteps approaching. The young man who’d made that gross fucking one-liner. Even though you have no proof, you get the disgusting inkling he was looking for you. He slows his pace when he sees you, and you do your best to school your face into neutrality. He stops entirely, opening his mouth to say something, look of confidence plastered over his face.

“Fuck’re you looking at?” Roman snaps, arm coming to drape across your shoulders, hand going to cup your jaw. He tilts your head up, quickly crashing his lips against yours. You’re surprised, but not even the slightest bit opposed. You grin into the kiss, and you can feel Roman smirking. He pulls back only slightly, glancing sideways at the other man. “What, you into voyeurism or something? We’re having a moment, shoo.”

You can’t help but laugh, clamping your hand over your mouth to trap the noise, and you watch the guy scuttle awkwardly away. Roman’s fingers stay on your jaw, brushing gently up the expanse of your skin. Without thinking, you lean back in and deposit a peck on his lips. He returns the fleeting kiss as he can, head then following yours back when you pull away to press his lips back to yours.

The kiss is deep, tender, needy. In between kisses, he murmurs praise. “You know you’re thirty times the employee any of those dipshits ever will be, mm?” Another lingering kiss, his hands drifting to your hips to turn you towards him. “And you’re so fucking attractive. Thank fuck this is finally happening. I think my staring at work was getting creepy.”

As his fingers travel to tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck, you pull back enough to be able to kiss up his neck. You line kisses along the underside of his jaw, and he lets out a strangled noise. His free hand cups your hip, squeezing gently as his face flushes with pleasure.

He turns his head to take your lips with his again, sighing happily into your mouth between kisses. Your hands are now braced on his chest, and your heart flutters.

“Did it really have to take this to get us to make out?” you ask, smiling giddily, rubbing a hand over his pecs.

“Maybe, maybe not. Another few weeks without you and I probably would’ve lost it, anyway,” he admits to you. “You’re so fucking hot.”

Roman pulls away from you entirely, disentangling your limbs from each other. He stoops down to the output compartment, your previously won treasure forgotten in the heat of the moment. He pulls out a bag of chips, sitting down with his back leaning against machine. You go down and settle in next to him, sitting as close as physically possible. He tears open the bag before winding an arm around you, keeping you close, holding the bag so that it’s easily accessible to the both of you.

“What’re we going to do with the rest of it?” you ask, cheek pressed to his shoulder so you can rest your head against him.

“Planning on taking it with us.” Roman chews a bit, swallows, then dots kisses across your forehead. “Hey, wait, your Oreos.”

He twists to reach into the compartment behind him, roots around for the bit, and turns back around to hand you what got you into this mess in the first place. You tear open the sleeve, then offer a cookie to him. He pops one into his mouth, fat smile plastered on his face. You have to admit, you enjoy seeing him happy. Roman Roy’s smile does things to you. You mirror his expression as you gaze up at him.

He plants another kiss right onto your lips.

It’s a bit of a struggle to transport all of your loot to the car an hour later, but thankfully, nobody’s around as the two of you carry all of the junk across the building.

The drive back, you sit practically on top of each other, giggling and munching all the way.

Neither of you waste any time as the weeks go on. You start going out, and you find yourselves spending more time in each others’ offices.

One morning, a few months after you’ve made things official, you step out of your office to come face to face with a vending machine.

All that’re in it are bags of Oreos, and a small sticky note pasted to the glass with a sloppy heart drawn onto it.

#succession #succession hbo #succession fic #wambsgansshoelaces #succession x reader #anon ask #roman roy #roman roy x reader #roman roy x you #roman roy oneshot #requests open #first kiss roman roy

[iheartyouyou]

SWEETHEART | Jeremiah Fisher

Summary: After your parents file for a divorce, you’re forced to move in with your mom’s friend until the divorce is finalized. You wished you could stay with your dad and your friends, but when you meet Jeremiah Fisher, that changes. And now you’re wanting to stay in the Cousins. Too bad things don’t last forever.

Word Count:

Part: 8

previous part series masterlist

Authors Note: I don’t know why but I can’t tag some people even though I’m spelling their users right. I’m sorry for that, I have no idea how to fix it. Anyway, thank you for all the love and support from the other parts! <3 I also apologize for grammar or spelling mistakes, I tried to proofread but I’m not sure if I got everything.

You chug the rest of your beer, rolling your eyes at the obnoxious scene in front of you.

“Tell me more! Tell me more…” Jeremiah’s and Cam’s voice fades the more you walk away, turning the corner to find the nearest bathroom.

Noticing the long line that probably hasn’t moved in 10 minutes you make your way upstairs.

After your little pity party earlier, Conrad arrived. It was strange for him to be here since he’s been all “moody and quiet” as Belly would put it, but it made sense since Nicole was here.

“Hey, you see Jere anywhere?” He asks you, looking at you for split second before looking around the yard.

You cross your arms over your chest, “Probably in one of the rooms hooking up with someone.”

Conrad looks at you, an eyebrow raised in amusement. “That’s Jere. If you see him, can you tell him I’m staying the night here?”

You purse your lips, really wanting to be petty and say something along the lines of “oh he’s probably going to be staying the night at his one night stands place as well” but you decide against it.

“Sure.”

Conrad thanks you, entering the house.

Staring at the liquid inside of your red cup, you realize you shouldn’t be outside because you were avoiding Jeremiah and Taylor. You should go in there, make new friends and have fun.

You bounced your leg up and down, anxiously.

Screw it. You probably look like some weird loner out here. Even Conrad’s inside and he’s supposed to be the anti-social one.

And after many drinks and socializing with many people, you somehow ended up in the living room where karaoke was going on. Leaving almost immediately after Jeremiah and Cam started singing their hearts out.

You made no effort in trying to tell Jeremiah what Conrad said. You avoided him all night, the moment he walked in the same room, you walked out.

Placing your cup somewhere, which most likely will never be found, you make a beeline straight to the stairs.

You may have had a little too much to drink that night as it took all your strength to not eat shit on the stairs. Finally making it up there, you try every door only to be met by some random couple either in the midst of making out or ripping each others clothes off.

“Sorry.” You say loud enough for the third couple you walked in on to hear. You close the door, your eyes drifting to the last door at the end of the hallway.

Oh please be a couple free zone.

If not, you can just wait in line. Or find a bush outside.

You hold your breath as you peek your head in, grinning as there was no couple on the bed. Just a flower crown.

You walked in, slamming the door behind you and flinching hard when you heard the two gasps coming from beside you.

“Ew, what the hell you guys! You couldn’t have done that in the car?” You complain, throwing your flower crown next to Taylor’s that was on the bed.

Steven and Taylor were frozen in horror, staring at you with wide eyes.

You scrunch your face up in disgust, walking by them to get to the bathroom. “Wha—“

“Oh my god!” Belly shrieks, pointing at the two in disbelief.

Before Belly could even confront the two, Steven dashed out of there.

“Steven—“ Taylor starts, trying to grab his arm before he could leave but he already did.

“You’re hooking up with my brother?”

“I swear, It just happened!” Taylor excuses, shrugging as she look between you and Belly.

Belly makes a face, “Wha- What you got bored? He’s dating someone! You know, someone he actually likes.”

Taylor scoffs, pointing to herself. “You’re saying he couldn’t like someone like me?”

“No, no, that’s not what I’m saying—“

“Ohhh, shittt! Steven has a girlfriend!” You say out loud, finally putting two together.

Belly spins to look at you, her eyes narrowed. “What? Did you know? Jesus— how long have you guys been hooking up?”

“I just got here! Like a second before you, maybe half a second before you…” You say, starting to ramble before Belly cuts you off.

“This could get so messy, Steven, he’s taking her to the deb ball and all those girls are her friends!”

Taylor rolls her eyes, “Oh my god! I’m so sick of hearing about this fucking deb ball. I don’t even know who you are anymore.” Taylor looks her up and down, using her hands to elaborate.

“Why? Because I’m not just going along with everything you wanna do? Is that why you threw yourself at my brother? So, that… you can get back at me?”

“Y’know, you act so innocent Belly. Like you’re the victim.” Taylor hisses.

“Victim?” Belly repeats.

“I think you’re the self absorbed one, Belly. How do you not know I’ve had a crush on Steven for years. If you weren’t so obsessed with Conrad—“

“What is wrong with you? People are going to hear!”

“Who cares! There’s more than one story happening here but you seem to only care about the one where you’re the main character.”

There’s a pause before Belly excuses herself, rushing out of the room.

You stand there awkwardly, watching Taylor pace the room as she buries her face into her hands.

“Starting fights with everybody tonight, huh?” You sarcastically say, stopping when Taylor looks up to glare at you.

“Mind your own fucking business.” She snaps, snatching her flower crown off the bed before storming off.

You shrug to yourself, rushing to the bathroom.

-

“Okay but think about this… what if we are all dead but we just don’t know it? Like when we die, will we know when we are dead? Will it just be a void or what?” Your new friend slurs, explaining with his hands to prove a point.

You nod quickly, “That makes so much sense! I wonder if I’m dead.”

“I wonder if I am too.”

There was a pause before the two of you broke into fits of laughter, snorting and not giving a damn since pretty much everybody in this household was drunk.

“I wonder if vodka and apple juice taste good.” You ramble, putting your finger to your chin as if you were thinking.

Whatever his name is scoffs dramatically, shaking his head way too fast. He stops, looking like he was going to puke before going back to normal. “Y’know what’s good? The cherry mountain dew and vodka. That shit is chefs kiss. You ever see Gordon Ramsey?”

“Gordon Ramsey? Oh. my. gosh. Like JonBenét Ramsey?”

“No, that’s different. I’m talking about the old guy.”

You think for a moment, taking a sip of whatever you had in your cup before responding. “Oh the british guy.”

“I think he is! You know how to talk in a british accent?” He speaks in a accent, raising his eyebrows up and down.

You had no idea what his name was. But you bumped into him on accident and the two of you just started talking. Who would’ve known you guys would have a lot in common?

“Yes, hello sir.” You speak in a terrible accent that wasn’t even british, frowning as the guy broke into a laugh.

You flinch at the sudden weight around your shoulders, turning to look at the one and only, Jeremiah Fisher.

“Heyy look, it’s playboy!” You chirp, shrugging his arm off you.

Jeremiah ignores your comment, doing some dumb handshake with your new friend who now wasn’t your new friend because apparently he knew Jeremiah.

“Oh great.” You mumble, drinking the rest of your drink.

They make some small chat while you awkwardly stand there, swaying on your feet as you thought of ways to get out of there.

I’m gonna go use the bathroom!

I’m gonna go find a drink!

I’m out of here!

Adios!

“Oh right, I came over here to take this little fire cracker home.” Jeremiah announces, pinching one of your cheeks teasingly. You smack his hand away, glaring at him.

“Okay, I guess I’ll see you around then?” The guy asks, hopeful.

You smile, nodding. “Yeah.”

He scratches the back of his neck with his free hand, hesitating, “You, uh, you think I could get your number or something?”

Your eyes widen, your cheeks burning. Oh god, did he just ask you for your number? You heard that right? Right?

“Ye—“ You start, already searching your pockets for your phone before you get cut off.

“It’s actually been a crazy day, think we’re just gonna call it a night. Let’s go, Y/N.” Jeremiah states, staring at you expectantly.

You glare at him, sending an apologetic look to your new friend. “Whatever. See you around.” You managed to say before Jeremiah led you through the house and to his car.

Jeremiah opens the door to the backseat, impatiently waiting for you to get in.

You don’t. You just stand there.

“You couldn’t have waited till after I gave him my number? You’re such a cockblock.” You complain, looking back at the house.

Jeremiah rolls his eyes. “He’s a player anyways! You wouldn’t have been the only girl on his phone.”

You scoff, sarcastically smiling at him. “Says you!”

He groans, letting go of the door to rub the bridge of his nose. “Just get in the car, Y/N. I’m tired.”

“I’m tired.” You mock, begrudgingly getting into the car. You reach out to close the car door before Jeremiah could.

You look through the window and watch as he stood there for a moment, seemingly contemplating on something before walking back to the house.

You waited until you couldn’t see him anymore to kick the seat in front of you out of anger, which was barely a kick as your leg felt way too heavy to even move. Same thing with the rest of your body.

Stupid Jeremiah.

Always ruining everything. Ruined Belly’s dinner for you, ruined the party for you, what else is he going to ruin?

It’s funny how fast he changed from the moment you met him to now. When you first met him, it was like, it was too good to be true. He was practically a golden retriever just in human form. Everything about him was perfect, everything. His hair, his eyes, his lips, oh dammit, why didn’t you kiss those lips—

You stop, holding your breath in realization.

Did you have a crush on him?

Pfft, why would you, have a crush on Jeremiah Fisher?

But I mean, who wouldn’t?

No. Stop it.

The car door opens, making you jump.

Jeremiah tosses a napkin at you, “There. You happy?” He closes the door before you could even react.

You pick up the napkin, flipping it over to see the number written in pen ink. You feel guilty.

Both the driver and passenger doors open, causing your eyebrows to furrow. Isn’t Conrad staying the night? Didn’t Taylor leave with Cam and Belly?

“Taylor, you better not crash my car.” Jeremiah complains from the passenger seat.

God dammit.

“Relax, Jeremy. I’m actually a excellent driver. Plus, I’m not the one who chugged a beer in under a minute for what? 5 dollars?” Taylor giggles, starting the car. She moves her seat forward along with fixing the rearview mirror.

“Hey— it’s money. You would’ve done the same!” He says defensively.

You don’t bother with putting your seat belt on, too exhausted. Leaning your head against the door, you close your heavy eyes. Their argument fades into the background, your head pounding.

-

“THAT’S TOO CLOSE!” You jolt awake, scanning your surroundings before realizing you were still in the car. Jeremiah and Taylor still in the front seats, arguing.

You rub the side of your face that was against the car door, looking out the window to see that you guys were outside of the familiar beach house.

“Gosh, you’re so dramatic!” You hear Taylor say, putting the car in reverse before slamming on the breaks. The breaks sends you forward, not enough to hurt you but enough to fully wake you up.

“Excellent driver” my ass.

Jeremiah sarcastically groans, “I’m never letting you drive again.”

“Good! Your car smells anyway.” Was the last thing you heard before the two of them exited the vehicle, their argument being muffled.

You looked around the backseat, searching for your phone along with the napkin. You spot them on the floor, snatching the both of them and shoving the napkin in your pocket.

You squint your eyes as the light from your phone nearly blinded you, checking the time and missed messages from earlier.

Belly

Left early 11:25

Jeremiah said he would give you a ride 11:25

Perfect for some alone time if you know what I mean 😏 11:26

Oh yeah how should I ask Cam to the deb? Do you think he would want to go with me? 11:28

Smiling, you shake your head. You type out a quick response but before you could send it the car door opens, revealing Jeremiah.

He holds the door open, rubbing his eyes before motioning for you to come out. He holds out his hand. You take it, shoving your phone into your pocket.

Silently, he wraps his arm around your waist before closing the door. He helps you into the house, then up the stairs and to your bed room.

He finally let’s go, sitting you down on the bed.

Crouching down to your level, he scans your face. “Are you wearing makeup?”

You realize how close he is, your breath hitching. You looked into his eyes, those eyes, getting lost for a moment.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you nod.

“Where’s your makeup remover?”

You point to the vanity. He gets up, unzipping your makeup bag before he stops. He holds up wipes, “This?”

“Yeah.” You muster out. Your heartbeat quickens as he comes back, stopping to crouch in front of you.

You reach your hand out to grab the wipes but he stops you, grabbing your chin with his other hand and softly pressing the wipe to your face to get rid of the makeup.

Your cheeks heat up at the gesture, feeling the cold wipe on your face as you dropped your hand. He takes his time, making sure to get everywhere.

He tosses the wipes in the trash can, going back to his crouching position to take off your shoes. You don’t stop him, your whole body felt like it was burning. You’ve never felt like this.

It felt like you were going to explode. Or puke. You didn’t know if it was because there were too many butterflies in your stomach and they needed a way out or just the alcohol you had tonight.

“Your hands looks better.” He mumbles, grabbing your hand to examine it. He flips it over a few times before letting it.

You stare at your hand the bruises looking more of a yellow-greenish color, “It’s pretty sore though.”

“I’m surprised it didn’t break.”

“What, after you guys ditched me?”

He’s quiet, frowning. “I came back for you.”

“Pfft, because you knew your mom would kill you if you didn’t.” You say, dropping your hand into your lap.

“I came back for you, not because of my mom.” He affirms, making eye contact with you so you could know he was telling the truth. You break it, your cheeks feeling hot.

There was silence for a moment but he breaks it, suggesting that you should lay down. You agree laying down as he shimmies the comforter out from underneath you. He tucks you in and fixes your pillows, making sure you were comfortable before he wishes you goodnight, leaving.

“Jere?”

He stops, turning back around to look down at you in concern.

“You okay? You need anything?”

You shake your head, staring at him. “No… I just…”

You felt so weird. So tingly. You were exploding with so many different emotions. You’ve had crushes before, silly crushes… but this was different.

You wanted to tell him. But, was it too late? What if Taylor was right? Would he really just hook up with you to leave you the next day?

“Thanks.” You finally settle on saying, facing away from him. You bury your face into the covers, mentally cursing at yourself but also just wanting to sleep.

He doesn’t respond.

And before you know it, he’s gone.

Taglist: @mindflay3r @lexi-2004 @buckys2thicc @agoodmansaid @jeremiahfisherslover @yourfavoritefangirl @leslienjazzy @natsgaygf @justkayleighhere @puptails @simp4jackharlow @yobabygirlally @whenmypartysover @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @medusaslilsister @maexxc @siriuslysmoking @nowimyurdaisy @totallynotkaibiased @eevee0722 @theyallhaveluv4lyricb @wh0reforstefansalvatore @pariahsparadise @angelbabyyy99 @lillygwenstacy @buckysh0e @nctma15 @ashlenxx @yeosxxx @elcpsstuff @historygeekqueen @ilovemen2much @picturethosesmiles @kristen-walker28 @dassah2022 @inkedfeatherz

#tsitp x you #tsitp x reader #tsitp imagine #tsitp #the summer i turned pretty #jeremiah fisher fluff #jeremiah fisher #jeremiah fisher fanfic #jeremiah fisher x you #jeremiah fisher imagine #jeremiah fisher x reader #belly conklin #conrad fisher

[staar5384]

PLEASSEEEE PART 2 OF CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS 🙏 COUNTING ON YOU

champange problems 2

neuvillette x gn!reader

hurt/no comfort - pure angst yet again - implied wriolette - they/them pronouns - light spoilers for 4.1 at the end

you ask and you shall receive! here's the highly request pt. 2! here's pt. 1 for those interested

You weren’t aware how long you had left Fontaine when you returned. After you rejected Neuvillette’s marriage proposal, you disappeared without a word. Guilt and shame ate away at you, and you couldn’t bare to face him after you had humiliated him in front of the entirety of Fontaine.

You took a vacation down to Mondstadt, where you spent your days wandering the vast wilderness and your nights drinking your sorrows away in the taverns. You made friends with a few of the locals in your drunken state. You blubbered and sobbed about how much you missed Neuvillette, and how you regretted throwing him aside the way you did. They all told you the same thing each time; “If you love him so much, go to him.”

After some convincing, and a lot of pondering, that’s exactly what you did. The journey back was excruciatingly long. Each day you weren’t back home trying to reconcile with your lover was another day your heart ached for him.

You had hoped that when you returned, people would have forgotten about the events that took place that night, but you were wrong.

Everyone stared at you as you walked the streets. They threw disgusted looks at you, whispered amongst themselves. It wasn’t undeserved, but it was uncomfortable.

You arrived at your shared home with Neuvillette, unlocking the door, and stepping inside. Adeline, your Melusine made, took notice of your arrival, “You’ve returned,” She said, her voice soft. “It’s been so long. The Monsieur and I have been so worried!”

“I’m sorry to worry you, Adeline,” You gave her a smile. “Speaking of Neuvillette… Is he here?”

She shook her head, “No he’s in a trial right now. Then there is a banquet tonight he’s attending.”

Unsurprising. There was always some sort of event happening thanks to Furina. “Thank you, Adeline.”

“May I ask a question?” 

“Of course. What is it?”

“Forgive my intrusion, but why did you say no to the Monsieur?”

You shouldn’t have been so surprised by the question, but it still caught you off guard, “I don’t know. I really don’t.”

You had decided you would find him at the banquet tonight. You dressed up in your finest clothes, then headed for the Opera Epiclese. Just like your walk to your home, this one also consisted of stares and whispers. You kept your head down as you moved along. 

The guards outside stared at you for a moment. You weren’t invited, you knew that and they did too, but they didn’t try to stop you.

The building looked just as beautiful as the night you left it. The purple and blue hues were replaced with grays and reds of varying shades. The flowers that once symbolized love were replaced by strings of stones and crystals that shone in the dim lights of the opera house.

You could feel all eyes on you as you walked around. You picked up a drink offered to you by a Melusine. You thank her, looking down inside. It was a purple color, and it smelled almost floral. You took a small sip. It was iced tea. Confusion struck your face. Since when has anyone ever served tea in the Opera Epiclese?

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Furina. She was ascending the stairs with a black haired man in tow. You vaguely recognized him; he stayed down in the Fortress of Meropide. The two were speaking, the man chuckling as she spoke.

Furina turned her attention toward the crowd below her. She glanced out at everyone, scanning the crowd until her eyes locked with yours. They widened, then she nudged the raven haired man. He focused his attention on you, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you.

You felt your body warm in embarrassment. Why did they have to draw so much attention to you?

You placed the half empty glass of tea aside and rushed into another room. The room was fairly empty, only a few people resided in it. You found a place in the corner to tuck yourself into. All you wanted to do was find Neuvillette, but instead you’ve attracted the unwanted attention of every person there, including the Hydro Archon.

It was going to be a long night.

Neuvillette had spent weeks planning this banquet for his friend, Wriothesley. The man had been his rock after you left, and he deserved the recognition for the hard work he did in the Fortress of Meropide. 

He looked at himself over and over again in the mirror. Was his hair a mess? Did his face look flushed? He had just finished a trial and had no time to stop at home and wash up, so his appearance felt off.

“Checking yourself out?” 

Neuvillette jumped, turning his head to see who was there, “Wriothesley, you startled me.”

Wriothesley leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “Who would have thought I could scare the great Chief Justice?” He chuckled, pushing himself off the wall and approaching Neuvillette. 

This gave Neuvillette a chance to look him over. The man was dressed in a deep gray suit with a maroon tie that hung loosely around his neck. The suit shirt hugged around his chest, leaving none of his features to the imagination. “You’re staring, Neuvi.”

Neuvillette’s face turned a deep red, “Ahh yes, sorry. You look good tonight. That’s all.”

Wriothesley laughed, “And so do you. Stop freaking out over it.”

“How did you know?”

“Only a person worried about their appearance stares so deeply into the mirror. Well, except Furina. She does it because she’s a narcissist.”

Neuvillette let out a breathy chuckle, “Oh Wriothesley, be careful. She may hear you.”

As if on cue, Furina burst through the door, “Wriothesley! Did you tell him!”

“Tell me what?” Neuvillette glanced at the man.

“Oh. Right. Umm-”

Furina cut him off before he could speak, “They are here.”

Neuvillette’s heart sunk deep into his chest. A wave of emotion rushed through him. “What?”

“We saw them in the crowd. They were entirely alone, but I think they were looking for you,” Furina replied.

“We can kick them out,” Wriothesley shrugged. “They technically weren’t invited.”

“No,” Neuvillette said. “Let’s not worry about them. This night is not about me. It’s about you, Wriothesley.”

“But how can I enjoy my night if you’re uncomfortable?”

Neuvillette was slightly taken aback by his words. He cleared his throat, shaking his head gently, “I’ll be alright. Let’s get out there and have a good time. I’ll pretend as if they don’t exist.”

Wriothesley and Furina just glanced at each other, before giving in. The three left the room and began to engage with the party. 

Wriothesley stayed close to Neuvillette, his hand lingering against his waist, hand, or any other part of Neuvillette’s body. The two were incredibly close, not moving away from each other for longer than necessary.

Furina took notice of this, of course she did, she loved the drama of Neuvillette’s ex being here as she watched what was most likely a blossoming romance.

The night continued on, and so far, Neuvillette had not seen you. Thanks to Wriothesley, he rarely even thought about you being here. 

You had been wandering around the opera house in search of Neuvillette. Has the damn place always been so big? 

People began to take less notice of you as their attention drifted towards the festivities. You were thankful, as it made your night a lot less stressful.

“Where could he be?” You mumbled to yourself before you saw him across the room. He was seated beside the man from before, and he looked so content. 

The two men were chatting and laughing. You saw the man’s hand rested on top of Neuvillette’s, their fingers intertwined with each other. 

You stared at them for a moment, unable to process the scene in front of you. Another person was holding onto Neuvillette’s hand, another person was making him smile in ways only you had been able to. 

Were you too late?

Wriothesley noticed you first. His grip tightened on Neuvillette’s hand as he stared you down. It was almost as if he was challenging you to act.

Neuvillette noticed the sudden tightness of Wriothesley’s grip, “Is everything okay?” He glanced at him, then in the direction he was looking in. There you were.

Tears were in your eyes as you were unable to fully process the scene in front of you. Time felt like it had stopped and there was nothing but you and the two men in front of you.

Neuvillette rose from his seat, releasing his grip on Wriothesley’s hand. He whispered something to him, then began making his way to you.

As his figure moved closer, you almost ran once again. Your heart hammered in your chest almost painfully, as if trying to beat through your ribcage.

Once he was in front of you, the whole room turned its attention to the scene. Neuvillette cleared his throat and waved his hand, “Let’s go somewhere more private.” You nodded, and the two of you left the room together.

Now you were entirely alone. No guests, no Furina, no random man holding Neuvillette’s hand. The silence was uncomfortable as neither of you knew where to start or what to say. 

“Why are you here?” Neuvillette asked, keeping a good distance between you two.

“I,” The words were trapped in your throat. “I’m here for you.”

Neuvillette let out a sad chuckle, “You know, months ago I would have loved to hear those words, but now,” He turned his head away from you. “They mean nothing.”

There was a sharp pain in your chest as he spoke. It felt like dragging a blade through your heart. “Neuvillette, please. I-I’m so sorry,” You tried to move closer, but he raised his hand to motion you to stop.

“Your apologies won’t repair the damage you caused. Do you know what it was like to stand on that stage, watching your lover run away from their heartfelt proposal? Do you know how it felt to become the talk of the city? I was pitied by everyone. I leave my comfort zone to throw a beautiful party, give you an emotional speech in front of so many people, and you not only reject me, but you disappear entirely,” His voice was getting louder, and you could see his hands shaking. “So on top of the heartbreak you caused me, I spent every day and every night worried sick for you. You left without a single word. You could have died and I would have never known. And you only just now feel sorry?”

You could hear the rumbling of thunder from outside, and the sound of rain hitting the roof of the Opera Epiclese. You stood there in silence with your head hung low. Shame, guilt, it was all bubbling inside you. 

“Nothing to say?” He said, his voice cracking. You still said nothing in return. He scoffed, running his hand through his hair. “After everything I said, you can’t say a single word.”

“I shouldn’t have rejected you like that. I should have talked to you about my fears. Instead, I ran away like a coward. I spent so much time sulking and feeling sorry for myself, but I couldn’t bring myself to fix the damage I created.”

“And now you want to try? I fixed it myself, so don’t worry. I don’t need your help. Not anymore.”

Tears were falling from your eyes, your face flushing as you cried, “I still love you, Neuvillette.”

“Well, I’m sorry to say I don’t feel the same.” There was a flash of lightning outside, illuminating the empty room. “I suggest you leave. You were not invited here, and do not expect an invitation again,” Then Neuvillette spun around and left.

You watched the door open and close, leaving you alone in the empty room. A minute passed, then another, and two more after that. Your body and mind had completely frozen. The beating of your heart was painfully fast and hard. You silently cried, listening as the rain fell from the sky.

When you finally had the courage to leave the room, you made sure your exit was quick and unnoticed. Rain was pouring from the sky as you left the Opera Epiclese. You knew why it was raining, and now you had to walk back to your once home in your ex lover’s sorrows.

a/n- i feel way less confident in this than the first part, but you requested a part 2, so i had to deliver. i almost went the less angsty route, so maybe i can make an alternate ending that is actually happy. also i tagged everyone who was interested in a pt. 2. i hope that's okay!

taglist- @soggywafle arccanejj erosdevil just-a-fuegoleon-fangirl @heartfatelust 

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfic #genshin #genshin fanfiction #genshin fanfic #neuvillette #neuvillete x reader #wriolette #wriothesley #genshin impact angst #genshin angst #neuvillette angst #hurt/no comfort

[munsons-melody]

sick day

summary: eddie cuts class to come help you get over your cold

pairing: eddie munson x female!reader

cw: none + established relationship

word count: 1.5 k

a/n: i thought this was a v cute concept

masterslist

i do not consent to having any of my works republished, translated, or posted to any other site except here. if you see my works anywhere but tumblr, it has been republished without my knowledge, consent, or permission.

—

you were undeniably, undoubtedly sick.

what started out as a sniffle from the day before turned into a full-blown-out nasty cold. you could only blame the weather for the illness.

it was a gloomy tuesday morning, and upon hearing your groggy voice and horrific cough in the morning, your mother sent you straight back to bed and called the school to tell them you weren't coming in.

you ended up falling back asleep for a handful of hours, trying to avoid the torture of being awake with a headache, a sore throat, and uncontrollable coughing. however you were soon woken up by your phone ringing.

"hello?" you sleepily croaked out, your voice hoarse from the amount of coughing you had succumbed to

"hey y/n, why aren't you in class?" you heard eddie ask, the sounds of people talking behind him. he was using the school phone to call you.

"i'm dying," you told him, sniffling a little bit. "what?" he asked in confusion

"i got the worst cold ever and i'm dying" you said again, feeling a cough coming on

"oh shit, how are you feeling?" he asked and you rolled your eyes

"actually I'm doing great thanks," you responded sarcastically

"sorry, that was a stupid question" he said. you heard the bell ring in the background and some shuffling noises

"i gotta go babe but i love you, feel better" he told you, making you smile. "i love you too" you said as you heard a click and the dial tone ring out.

you coughed a couple more times, causing your throat to burn with pain. you groggily pushed yourself up from your laying position and sat on the edge of your bed

you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and your looks had mirrored how you felt; like shit

your nose was bright pink from the countless times you had to blow your nose, cheeks were flushed, hair was in the messiest braid ever, your dark circles engulfed your eyes from the lack of sleep you got the previous night. you were wearing a giant shirt with garfield on it, some baggy pj pants, and you knew if anyone were to see how you did now, they would be disgusted

you went and used the bathroom, then went to the kitchen to search for something to eat that wouldn't make you more nauseous but failed to do so 

the house was quiet, the only thing you could really hear was the birds chirping and cars passing outside. you stood there, enjoying the silence, sipping on your water

you headed back to your room in attempts to fall asleep again, but after tossing and turning for a good 10 minutes, you sat up with a huff

just as you resigned yourself to the rest of the day filled with solitude and sniffles, a knock echoed through the house. startled, you slowly made your way to the front door, your stuffy nose adding an extra layer of annoyance to your condition.

you looked through the peephole to see eddie standing there with a large brown bag in hand. he looked so good wearing his black sabbath t shirt and ripped black jeans, his white reeboks giving a pop of white.

you slowly opened the door, only leaving a little bit of it open to avoid him from fully seeing you. it’s not like you always wore tons of makeup, just enough to boost your confidence, and eddie had seen you completely without makeup only a handful of times, but you didn’t want him to see the horrific sight which was you with the worst cold

"eddie, what are you doing here?" you asked with a raspy voice

eddie flashed his trademark grin, holding up the bag in his hand. "since you're sick, i thought i could be of some assistance. i brought you some homemade chicken soup. wayne swears on it" he said sweetly

"thank you baby that's so sweet," you said with a smile, before furrowing your brows

“wait where did you get homemade chicken soup?” you asked and he blinked

“oh well technically it’s campbells… but it works just the same, i swear, scouts honor” he smiled, lifting three fingers

he started to walk in but you shut the door more

"i don't want to get you sick" you told him and he shook his head 

"i have the immune system of an ostrich!" he declared and you let out a giggle which turned into a nasty cough 

"oh baby," he said sympathetically, standing up the next stair to the doorway 

"c'mon let me take care of you please, just until your parents get home?" he asked with the sweetest tone

"eds i have to be honest, i look absolutely disgusting right now, i don't want you seeing me like this" your voice faded into a whisper

"y/n, i can promise you that nothing you do or have will make me less attracted to you, i love you in every conceivable way now can i please just come in and heat your soup up for you?” he begged, giving you puppy dog eyes

you slowly opened the door, revealing your sick state to eddie and he smiled, walking in to your house and immediately giving you a kiss on the forehead

“jesus you’re burning up” he said taken aback and you rolled your eyes

“no shit sherlock” you huffed as he walked into your kitchen

“well i guess the first symptom of this cold is hate” he joked with a smile and you shook your head at him, shutting the door

“so how come you were able to come here in the middle of the school day?” you questioned, leaning against the kitchen counter as he poured your soup from the can into a pot

“i just went to the nurses and told them i was feeling sick and apparently there’s something going around the school so they believed me and sent me home” eddie shrugged, turning up the heat on the stove

“so that’s what i got” you said, crossing your arms

“maybe” eddie said, eyes staying on the soup to make sure it didn’t boil over

“wait what did you mean you have the immune system of an ostrich?” you asked, realizing what he said earlier

“yeah they have one of the best immune systems, it’s a fact” he said nonchalantly and you laughed

“and how do you know what?” you asked as he turned off the stove

“well when i was growing up, wayne had the day shift and after school i’d go to the library to read before he’d come and pick me up, i learned it from some nature book” eddie smiled, and handed you the steaming hot bowl of soup

“thank you” you said, your stomach suddenly making countless noises and rumbling, since you hadn’t ate anything all day

you sat at your kitchen table and ate your soup, and eddie munched on a couple saltines you had from your cupboard

“yeah and luckily i had a test i didn’t study for at all for 7th period so i get more time to study” eddie said and you nodded, not really caring in that moment if you secretly knew you had to help him study because you were so hungry, the soup vanishing in front of you

“mhm” you mutter out, finishing the rest of the soup and chugging some water

“feel better?” eddie asked and you nodded. honestly you did. now that your stomach had shut up and power of chicken noddle soup was finally coming to fruition, you felt the tiredness loom back over you

you yawned and stretched your arms out and eddie could see the sudden drop in the little bit of energy you had earlier

“now back to bed young lady” he said in a not so stern voice and you listened, getting up with your bowl in hand and placing it in the sink

eddie followed you into your room and shut the door. you put some of the tissues that were discarded on the floor and put them in the trash, and then instantly cuddled into your sheets, pulling them around you

eddie took off his jacket and shoes, walking over to the other side of the bed

“ed’s what are you doing? i told you i don’t want you to get sick” you said, and he just smiled, taking off his pants and then crawling into the empty space next to you

“i don’t care sweetheart, all i care about is you feeling better and i know that you’ll sleep better with me here, it’s a fact” he said, pulling you in close

“oh really? did you learn that in your nature book as well?” you asked with a slight laugh and he kissed your head

“no, i just know you that well” he said, letting you lean your head against him

you felt the sleepiness wash over you like a wave on a beach, and you just let your eyes close, feeling eddie’s chest move against your back

you were a little jealous he could breathe through his nose without the annoyance of it being stuffy but you didn’t care because he was right, you do sleep better with him near

fin.

#stranger things #eddie munson #munsons-melody #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson x you #eddie x y/n #eddie munson angst #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n

[eufezco]

YOU'RE TOO DRUNK FOR THIS – S. H. x FEM!READER

IN WHICH you're too drunk to have that conversation.

This was your first Halloween party.

Every October 31 you'd go out with Jonathan to take care of the kids while they trick-or-treated. It was fun, but you couldn't deny you wished you were in one of those big parties with loud music, people dancing and wearing the coolest costumes, and liters of alcohol. No one ever invited you to one of those, no one except Steve. You started hanging out with him last year when you were paired up for a group project together. You wouldn't tell him that this was your first Halloween party but he perfectly knew you've never been to a party before. People in those places were nothing like you and even though his friends didn't like you at all, it's been so long since the last time he cared about what his friends had to say and Steve wanted you to be there. Plus, he wouldn't have gone to the party either if you hadn't accepted his invitation.

Steve drove to your house and introduced himself to your parents, reassuring them that you'd be okay. After what happened to Barb they've been pretty paranoid and you going out with someone new creeped them out. Then, he drove to the party making fun of the look your parents gave the two of you before leaving and you couldn't be more embarrassed. You stood outside the house, colorful lights coming out of the windows and the music rumbling down the street. "You've never seen a house before?" You rolled your eyes and hit him with your elbow. The house was crowded, but no one paid attention to you, just Steve, and that made you feel more comfortable. Everyone was minding their own business; dancing, drinking, trying to hold a conversation over the music, there were even a few making out. Steve guided you to the kitchen where the music wasn't too loud. "Steve!" You heard a girl calling the boy. Steve said hi back to Carol and after her, Tommy appeared. You tried to hide behind him, but the disgusted faces of his friends made their way to you.

"Seriously, Steve? Her? Come one, man."

"Shut up, Tommy."

They didn't like you, and that was okay because you didn't like them either. "Okay, y/n, what do you want to drink? We've got beer, rum, vodka, punch..." He served himself a cup of beer and waited for your answer. "Well, I've never- I've never tried any of these." You laughed nervously and Steve raised his eyebrows. "Try my beer." He handed you his cup, you took it between your fingers and you let the liquid go through your lips. "Ew." You mumbled wrinkling your nose, Steve laughed at how cute you looked. "No beer for you since you've got no taste." He took a cup for you and decided to pour you punch. "I think you might like this one." And so you did, it tasted like cherry, and at one point of the night, you lost count of how many cups of punch you drank. After you two got your drinks, Steve grabbed your hand and walked you to the living room where the people were dancing.

He didn't let go of your hand, still holding it while dancing, spinning you around now and then and making you giggle.

You followed Carol to the kitchen where the table was full of alcohol bottles. "Hey! No, no, no. She's had enough." Steve tried to take your cup off Carol's hands as she was about to handed it to you after refilling it with punch. "Carol come on. It's her first time drinking, she's had enough." The girl rolled her eyes and let go of the cup all of a sudden, Steve spilling all the punch on your dress. "Shit y/n, I'm sorry." You shook your head. "It's okay. I'll- I'm going to the bathroom." Steve followed you and closed the door of the bathroom behind him. You tried to clean the red stain on your dress using a towel and water. "I'm sorry y/n. That's not coming off."

"It's coming." Steve shook his head. "Look, take my jacket and let me drive you home, okay?" His voice was so soft and his deep brown eyes looked for yours as your eyes were focused on cleaning your dress. Steve's hand landed on top of yours making you stop. You gave up and suddenly started crying. "I'm truly sorry y/n. You can have my jacket and I'm gonna drive you home and everything's gonna be okay. You can even keep my jacket forever if you like it." Steve took it off immediately and he placed it over your shoulders, the smell of his cologne and the warmth of it making you cry even harder. Steve felt so bad for ruining your dress and making you cry because you seemed to be enjoying the party so much. And you looked so pretty with your dress, he felt so bad.

"I don't care about the stoop- the stupid dress." You babbled. You just needed to let it all out. "I just- I like you so much, Steve. And you're my friend and I've never felt this way before and I don't know what to do because I don't wanna lose you." If you weren't drunk you'd never have said such a thing and even now you felt the embarrassment hit you like a truck. Your cute doe and red eyes contemplating him. Steve placed his hands on your cheeks and connected his lips to yours. A cute little peck that didn't last long but it was enough to have you asking yourself if that really happened or if you were too drunk. Now you were the one that kissed him, you just needed to be sure that that happened, that he kissed you, that Steve Harrington kissed you. His back was against the bathroom door, his big hands never leaving the soft touch on your cheeks as he kissed you back. Steve has kissed a lot of people. Was he proud? No, not exactly because in the long run, they'd be creating fake scenarios with him. He wasn't proud either because at some point he lost the feeling of excitement before kissing someone. But now, being in that small bathroom with you, he almost got scared when he felt the tickling sensation in the lower part of his stomach and he thought about how much he has missed that feeling. "Mmm, y/n-" He said against your lips. "Y/n, I-" He called your name again and squeezed your cheeks making you stop kissing him. He giggled as your cheeks grew hot under his touch.

"I like you too, but you're too drunk for this." Your eyes went wide. You were drunk but you were still able to understand what those four words meant. You didn't know what to say next since the only person that has ever reciprocated your feelings was Jonathan when you both were 7. "What does- What do you mean with 'I like you too'?" You licked your lips tasting the beer from Steve's, it tasted better now since you got it from his lips. And Steve could feel the punch taking over the taste of beer in his mouth. "What do you think I mean?" You thought about it, biting your lower lip as you looked for an answer. "We're not having this conversation now anyways." Steve said interrupting your thoughts and you internally thanked him because you didn't know how to reply to his question. The truth was that he wasn't looking for a specific answer, he knew exactly what he meant, he just wanted to tease your drunk self. "I'm taking you home, let's go." Steve smiled at you and threw his arm over your shoulders, opening the door of the bathroom and getting you both out of your first party ever.

"We're talking about this tomorrow, Steve." You babbled.

"Of course we are."

#stranger things #stranger things fluff #stranger things angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #stranger things imagine #steve harrington headcanon #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader

[daytaker]

hii hellooo, may i request brothers with a clown core mc? their outfits most often being very colorful but their personality being the opposite? like somewhat cold and very blunt, not talking much and if talking then it’s about something mildly disturbing like murder investigations or an odd fascination with deadly diseases stuff like that

sorry that it’s extremely specific and thank you regardless _(┐「ε:)_

Clown Anon MCs - [ Clowncore MC | Death-Fixated Science Geek MC | LeVeyan Satanist MC ]

When you first arrived, no one was sure what to think. They looked you over. Your pink hair, your cyan shorts. A yellow T-shirt and rainbow suspenders. Gaudy makeup and adorable pink tennis shoes. Beaded bracelets and necklaces and colorful tights.

And a box of smokes in your back pocket.

"Welcome to the House of Lamentation," Lucifer says, gesturing grandly at the stately mansion ahead of you.

You say nothing. Instead, you pull out a cigarette and a lighter. Taking a drag, you lazily gaze at the house, then back at your host, who looks disgusted.

"Make sure you only do that outside," he says, nodding to the box of cigarettes in your hand.

You blow a puff of smoke in his face and start walking to the door, completely ignoring the sounds of Lucifer struggling to contain his rage.

"Why's it called that?" you finally ask as you stop at the front doors. "'House of Lamentation'?"

Lucifer, having composed himself by now, steps up beside you. "This is a replica of a house from the human world," he explains. "In it, an entire family was murdered; the parents, the servant, and six of their seven sons. The seventh--"

"Ohhh. This is the Sutton house," you say, nodding.

"Excuse me?"

"The Sutton house. Massachusetts, 1923. Elijah Sutton, oldest of seven sons, runs into the local tavern screaming that his servant killed the whole family and himself. Most folks today think it was Elijah who really did it. I know I do."

You take one more drag from your cigarette, then drop it on the ground and put it out with the heel of your shoe.

"So this is their house, huh? Sick."

---

It's breakfast on your second day in the Devildom. You took extra time to apply your godawful makeup this morning, and you're sure it shows, because the brothers keep glancing at you as if they're not quite sure what they should say.

"You talk to them, Mammon," mumbles Satan. "You're their babysitter."

"Ah... ahem." Mammon casts a glare at his brother, then looks at you. "So, uh... Human." You stare at him with a dead-eyed expression that seems to unnerve him even more. "...We're goin' to RAD today, and there's a couple a things you should know." You continue staring.

Mammon looks to his brothers for help, but they all avoid eye contact. "Uhhh... Just... try not to get eaten, 'kay? Lucifer'll be pissed if you die on my watch."

"Do demons eat people?" you ask. "Like, raw?"

"Sometimes! So don't mess around with 'em, got it?"

"That's gotta be messy as fuck."

"It is!"

"You got any photos?"

"....Eh?"

---

"So I get that you're the seven deadly sins," you say to Satan, sprawled out in an armchair in the library, "but like... is that all you guys got here?"

Satan, who had been minding his own business and innocently reading a book of curses, looks irritated. "Is that all of what?"

"I dunno. Bad shit shaped like people." You shrug. "Like, you got the Four Horsemen or somethin'?"

"Of course not," Satan snaps. "That would be ridiculous."

You shrug. "Embodiment of plague? Too ridiculous to believe. Embodiment of wrath? Well, obviously that's a thing."

---

"You have to make pacts with Lucifer and his brothers," Belphie urges you through the door. You stare at him, then take a drag from your cigarette. As long as Lucifer is occupied in the music room with that weird record, you're going to break every rule in this damn house.

"How am I supposed to do that? Am I gonna split up my soul Horcrux style? Give everybody a slice?"

Belphie stares at you for a few seconds. You don't realize how badly he wishes he could kill you in this moment. "Are you going to help me or not?"

You shrug. "What do I get out of it?"

He blinks at you in utter bewilderment. "You... make me happy?"

You stare at him. He stares at you. You stare at him. He continues to stare at you.

You head back down the stairs.

#clowncore #clowncore mc #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me lucifer #obey me belphie #lucifer #satan #mammon #belphie #daytaker fanfic #obey me headcanons #dthc #hcs #ask response #anon #obey me mc #obey me writing #i hope this is what you were asking for anon #i think it's appropriately silly

[nyssaswitch]

Pool Party with the Barca Boys

Synopsis:

Y/N is Gavi’s sister.

A pool party is being held at Gavi’s house with Frenkie de Jong, João Cancelo, Marc Guiu, Héctor Fort and Aron Yaakobishvili in attendance.

Y/N is living it up, flirting with all of the guys (and who could blame her, her brother’s teammates were HOT).

But deep down, she has a sweet spot for Héctor.

Chapter 1

Y/N’s POV

Today was the day that Y/N had been looking forward to for weeks, today Gavi’s teammates would all meet up at his place for the long-awaited pool party.

You were giddy with excitement, since you knew that Héctor Fort would be coming too.

Ever since you first laid eyes on him when accompanying Gavi during football practice, you hadn’t been able to get him out of your head.

You had a thing for football players, fuckboys and Mediterranean men and Héctor was the perfect embodiment of all three.

You knew that this was technically a pool party, but you wanted to look your best for Héctor and so you’d spent four hours painstakingly doing your hair and makeup before the guys arrived.

Since you were gonna be “swimming” and it was 25C outside, you’d put your hair up in a stylish messy bun and had kept your makeup minimal.

As for your outfit, you’d done your best to pick out the skimpiest bikini that you owned, if that wouldn’t catch his attention, you don’t know what would.

Even you had to admit that the “bikini” was quite revealing and so, you’d decided to wear a coverup over it (decent as you were). Though you were well aware that the coverup was see through and left plenty of cleavage exposed.

Worst case scenario, Héctor wouldn’t be interested in you and you’d just hook up with one of Gavi’s other friends instead.

After having locked yourself in Gavi’s bathroom for the past four hours, you entered the living room and saw Gavi sitting on the couch.

He gave you a once over as he frowned and said “you know it’s a pool party right? We’re gonna be swimming”.

“Oh I know, you said, with a smile”. “Who are you trying to impress?” asked Gavi. “No one” you squeaked, fuck, was it that obvious? You thought to yourself.

“And what in god's name are you wearing? Could you possibly have put on anything skimpier?” asked Gavi.

“You worry too much Gavi, please just take a chill pill”. “Fine”, he said, ”just know that I”ll be watching you closely and if any of the guys so much as looks in your direction, I'll kill them”. “I don’t need your protection Gavi”. “Trust me you do”, he said.

At that moment the bell rang. Saved by the bell, how cliche, you thought.

You jumped up and said “I'll get it”, as Gavi looked at you and rolled his eyes, you skipped to the front door.

In front of the door stood Frenkie, Pedri and João Cancelo.

“Hi guys, are y'all ready to party?” you asked, as you gave each of them a hug.

“As ready as I'll ever be”, said Frenkie.

“It’s nice to see you again” said Pedri.

“Looking good” said João Cancelo. “You too”, you chirped and blushed.

“Where are the others?”, you asked Frenkie.

“Marc, Héctor and Áron Yaakobishvili will be arriving in 15 minutes, Marc just texted me”, said Frenkie.

“Okey-dokey, can’t wait to get the party started”, you said. “Come on in”.

The three boys walked in and greeted Gavi.

“Woah, Gavi, you’re so lucky to have someone like that as your sister”, Frenkie said.

Pedri nodded in agreement, while João said “poeh”.

“You guys are disgusting” said Gavi, you do realise that that’s my sister, you’re talking about?

“Oh we’re well aware”, said Frenkie while grinning.

Gavi objectively knew that his sister was good looking, ever since Y/N had been in middle school, guys had been throwing themselves at her and his teammates were no different.

“Okay, can we please stop talking about my sister?” , said Gavi.

“Sorry”, João said. “But can you really blame us?”

At that moment the bell rang for the second time, causing the boys to stop bickering.

“I'll get it”, you said in a cheery voice.

You opened the door and your face lit up when you finally saw Héctor, for a moment there, you were afraid that he wouldn’t show.

“We’ve come bearing gifts”, said Marc Guiu.

“We brought plenty of booze” said Áron Yaakobishvili, lifting a bottle.

“And snacks”, said Héctor Fort, holding a platter with delicious looking mini pizzas.

He gave you the platter and as he did, your hands briefly touched, sending an electric shock through your whole body.

You wondered if Héctor felt it too.

They brushed past you as you took the tray with pizzas and placed them in the fridge.

You were still reeling from Héctor’s touch, when you made your way to the outside pool.

The pool was large and deep enough to to be making somersaults in, which is why the guys loved Gavi’s pool.

Part of the fun was seeing the guys rough housing and in swim shorts no less.

The boys had started to play football by the pool, with Áron acting as goalkeeper and the rest of the guys taking turns trying to shoot the ball in the goal.

Áron however, was giving them a tough time, demonstrating how he was shaping up to be a promising future goalkeeper for Barcelona’s first team.

Áron loved how hard the other guys were trying and started taunting Héctor once it was his turn saying “you know the ball’s supposed to land in the goal, not next to it”.

“Just you wait” said Héctor. “Yeah, we”ll show you”, said Marc.

“Eventually”, Áron retorted.

After having played three more rounds, without any of the guys managing to score, Áron said “let’s make this more interesting, the first one to score will get 7 minutes in heaven with Y/N, if Y/N is up for it, that is”.

“Y/N, how does that sound?”

“Hmmm, sorry, what were you saying?”, you hadn’t been paying attention to what Áron was saying, too wrapped up in the ogling of all the football boys and since you were basically surrounded by eye candy, you had to divide your team between each of the 6 boys milling about.

“Well, since none of these guys have managed to score, I came up with a little proposal, the first person to score will get 7 minutes in heaven with you, are you up for it?”

5 faces were staring at you expectantly, eagerly awaiting your response.

“Y/N you don’t have to agree to anything that makes you uncomfortable”, said Gavi protectively.

“So Y/N, what will it be?” Asked Frenkie with twinkling eyes.

Your breath hitched and your heart started beating a little faster, oh how you’d wished for a moment like this to occur. For Héctor’s arms to finally wrap around you and feel his lips on yours.

“Sure, I’m in,” you said coolly, while looking straight at Gavi, who just shook his head disapprovingly.

“Alright then, time to step up our game lads”, said João.

The atmosphere by the pool had changed, the guys, who’d started playing in a rowdy and playful manner had all turned quiet and pensive, pulling out all the stops and trying their hardest to make that goal.

After, what had seemed an eternity, you heard someone shout “GOAL!”.

You looked up to see Marc pumping his fist into the air and looking smug at the other guys.

“Have fun man”, Pedri said.

“Yeah, I’m definitely jealous”, said Frenkie.

Marc walked up to you, gently grabbed your hand, looked into your eyes and asked “are you coming with me?”.

Shit, you thought, you’d hoped that Héctor was gonna be the one to take you home, but it’s not like you could just blurt out “actually, I’d prefer to go with Héctor”.

So you weakly nodded and followed Marc inside the house, as the guys started cheering behind you.

“Y/N, where’s the guest bedroom?" asked Marc.

You took his hand and silently led him to the guest bedroom, your thoughts a million miles away.

Marc sat down on the bed holding your hand, rubbing his thumb over the backside of your hand.

Listen Y/N, I know it might seem like this came out of the blue, but I’ve had a crush on you for the longest time, ever since I first saw you.

You’re gorgeous and you’d make me the happiest guy alive, if you’d let me make you mine right now.

Your breath choked, this wasn’t how you’d imagined the pool party would go, but Marc, was very attractive as well and how could you say no to him, while he was looking at you with so much yearning.

He leaned in and cupped your face with his right hand, planting a soft kiss on your mouth.

As soon as his lips found yours, you carefully reciprocated.

While continuing to make out, you climbed on top of him, rocking your hips back and forth.

Marc’s breath hitched, he let out a sigh and said “baby please let me see all of you”.

You responded by unclasping your bikini top and letting it fall to the floor.

Marc grasped your breasts and slowly started massaging them, causing you to let out a whimper.

Marc chuckled, “you like that huh baby”.

You groaned “oh yes Marc, please don’t stop”. You continued to grind your core against his crotch, feeling him grow hard.

“Hmmm, baby, please stop, you’re turning me on so much and I’d rather cum inside of you” said Marc.

You lay down on your back and pulled your bikini bottoms to the side, Marc pushed one finger inside of you and whimpered “hmm, you’re so wet for me baby”.

He continued fingering you and just as you were about to come undone, he slid his fingers out of you and placed a kiss on top of your forehead.

“Sssh, baby, I know I know”, he said as you whined in displeasure, your orgasm having been so close.

Marc slid into you, filling you up wholly and stretching you out.

You let out a gasp of pleasure as he slid into you, Marc doing the same.

Marc started pumping into you harder and harder, you felt yourself getting close to climax and yelped “don’t stop”.

Marc continued to pump into you at the same pace, while you reached your climax and screamed out “oh Héctor”.

You could feel Marc filling you up, while he looked at you with hurt in his eyes.

“I, I’m so sorry, you said hastily”.

“No don’t”, said Marc, “I guess that explains everything”.

“Explains what?” You asked him.

Why you seemed so quiet and hesitant when I finally made that goal and why your first reaction was to look at Héctor.

“I”-

“You don’t have to explain yourself Y/N, I guess I know why you agreed to the game in the first place”.

Marc stalked off, with hunched shoulders, leaving you in the bed looking bewildered.

#hector fort #hectorfortfanfic #hectorfortsmut #marc guiu #marc guiu fanfic #Marc guiu smut #aron #Aron Yaakobishvili #Aron Yaakobishvili fanfic #Gavi fanfic #gavi smut #pedri fanfic #pedri smut #frenkiedejong fanfic #joaocancelofanfic #fcbarcelonafanfic

[guccifrog]

THINK FAST P2

chris sturniolo × f!reader

summary: where a silly dare leads to a lot of unexpected events

part1

𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴: Awkward -Sza 0:09 ━●────────── 2:58 ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷

y/n's pov ☆

"what the fuck are you doing?" a familiar voice behind me asked, making me jump.

I turned around to see none other than Chris Sturniolo standing in the doorway, looking at me with a mixture of confusion and anger. "Um…I was just…" I stammered, holding up the boxers behind my back. "shit" I whispered.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" he demanded, taking a step forward. I hesitated, my heart racing. "Um, I was just…she dared me to…I didn't mean any harm…" I trailed off trying to think of an excuse, but it was too late.

Chris's expression turned darker. "You broke into my room." It wasn't a question. "I'm calling the police," he said, reaching for his phone. My heart sank. I knew I was in deep shit.

"No, please!" I begged. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. I just thought it was a joke…" My voice trailed off, the words sounding pathetic even to my own ears. Chris didn't look convinced, but he paused, his hand hovering over his phone.

"Look, I don't want any trouble," I said, trying to sound as sincere as possible. "I'll leave, just…please don't call the cops." I took a step back, my heart pounding in my chest. Chris continued to stare at me, his expression unreadable. After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke.

He stepped closer, his expression still hard. "are those my boxers?" he asked, nodding at the blue boxers still clutched in my hand."Um…no…?" I muttered. "No, they're not…I just…" I trailed off, I'm sure I look so stupid right now.

Chris raised an eyebrow. "so not only did you break into my house, but you also stole my underwear you freak?" he said slowly." what the fuck is wrong with you ?" he asks, his voice low, glaring at me. I feel my face burning red and I'm glad he can't see it in the dark. "You're disgusting, you know that?" he says, shaking his head.

"right dude, I'm sorry," I say, feeling stupid and embarrassed. "I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to…um…" I trail off, not knowing what else to say "Look it was just some stupid dare, okay?" I finally blurt out, my cheeks still burning red. "I don't even know why I did it. I just thought it'd be funny, you know? I shouldn't have come in here." I glance down at the ground, unable to meet his gaze.

For a long moment, Chris is silent. Then, he sighs and rolls his eyes. "how long have you been stalking me ?" he asks.

"i'm not stalking you!!" I say, defensive. "It's just a fucking dare, alright? I didn't mean any harm!"

"yeah sure," He says, unconvinced. "you know what? wait here and don't fucking move, I'll be right back" he says, leaving the room before I could reply.

I stand there, feeling more and more dumb with each passing second. I should've just left it alone, What was I thinking? The door slams shut, and I hear the lock click into place from the outside. Wow, now I'm trapped in here.

My heart is racing, my palms are sweaty, and my mouth feels like it's full of cotton balls. This is not how I expected the night to go. Trapped in Chris Sturniolo's room, I pace around, trying to think of a way out. The door is locked, and I can't find a key. I wonder if he's really going to call the police, or if he's just trying to scare me.

I glanced around the room, taking in my surroundings. My eyes fell on a small knife on the bedside table. Could I use that to force the window open? It was a bad idea, but it was better than staying here and waiting for him to come back. Taking a deep breath, I carefully picked up the knife and tested its weight in my hand.

I walked over to the window and clutched the knife in my hand, feeling the cold steel against my skin. I started to pry the window open, slowly and carefully. With a creak, it began to slide upward, letting in a stream of cool air. I pushed it open wider, feeling a rush of relief wash over me.

suddenly the door flung open and Chris walked in. "what the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded, his eyes wide with anger. I froze my hand still on the knife. And so I did the first thing I could think of. I quickly throw the knife across the room, and practically throw myself out of the window, landing on my back on the soft grass. I roll over, gasping for breath, and as I open my eyes I see Chris's head looking out of the window, with concern written all over his face.

"y/n!"I look to the side to see Jane running my way. She skids to a stop in front of me, her hands on her knees and her chest heaving. "Are you okay?!" she asks, her eyes wild with panic.

I quickly got up and grabbed Jane's hand. "let's go!" I yelled before scrambling away from the house."Hey, wait!" Chris yelled, but I didn't look back. Jane and I run, our lungs burning and our legs aching, but we don't stop. We keep going until we're far enough away that we can't hear Chris calling after us anymore.

We finally slow to a stop, leaning over with our hands on our knees, trying to catch our breath. "That was fucking insane," Jane pants, her eyes wide.

"Where are the others?" I asked between breaths. Jane shrugs. "I don't know. We were waiting for you and Cassie said she needed to do something so she left and then everyone else just started to go" she replied.

"Who the fuck is Cassie?" I ask, confused. Jane frowns. "The girl that dared you, remember?" I nod, remembering now.

We decided to walk to my house, both of us still shaking from the adrenaline rush. As we walked, I filled Jane in on the details of what had happened. She listened, her jaw dropping lower and lower with each new revelation.

When we finally got to my house, we found Dylan and Amber waiting on the porch. They exchanged glances as we approached. "You okay?" Dylan asked making me nod"I'm guessing you chickened out since I don't see any expensive boxers," he said with a grin and I snorted.

"you'd be surprised," I said, following them into the house. Once inside, we all sat down in the living room. Dylan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "So, what exactly happened?" he asked, his voice low. I took a deep breath and told the story, leaving out no details. As I spoke, Jane nodded in agreement, filling in some of the blanks where I left out.

When I finished, there was a moment of silence before Dylan spoke up. "Damn, that's some serious shit. You're lucky you got out of there."

"I'd fucking pay to see Sturniolo's reaction to you just standing there with his boxers"Amber giggled and the others chuckled. "trust me, it was the funniest shit I've seen in a while," I said, grinning.

"But seriously, what are you gonna do now? that fucker is obviously not someone to mess around with."Jane said, her voice laced with concern. I shrugged, feeling a little uneasy myself. "relax, it's not like he knows who I am. He probably just thinks I'm one of his fangirls or something" I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

"Well, if he ever does find out who you are…" Dylan started, but I cut him off.

"He won't. He doesn't know me" I tried to sound convincing, but even I didn't believe it. "Besides, I'm not going to let some asshole like that ruin my life. I'll just be more careful from now on."

There was a moment of silence before Dylan spoke up. "Yeah whatever dude," he said, laughing a little. "If you say so." I knew he didn't really believe me.

"I wanna sleep now" Jane yawned, stretching her arms above her head." my parents are out of town you all can stay over if you want," I offered, standing up and stretching as well.

"Thanks, but I'm good. I'll just go home. See you tomorrow, okay?" Dylan replied, giving me a tired smile. I nodded" Me too," Amber said. They both stood up, stretching and yawning. I led them out to the front porch. "Alright, we'll see you guys later," I called after them as they walked down the driveway.

Once they were gone, I went back inside and headed upstairs to my room. I flopped down on my bed next to Jane, still feeling a little shaky from the encounter with Sturniolo. As I lay there, I couldn't help but wonder. What if he did find out who I was? What if he decided to come after me?

.･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.･｡ﾟ

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