#I wanted to do a review but this came out instead

[elysiaheaven]

𝗥𝗲𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗹𝗮𝘆-𝟮𝟮-(The Fox' Wedding)

words:2500

Jiaoqiu's eyes held a mix of concern and confusion. "You were the goddess of the Borisin, not of humans. Hoolay himself proclaimed you as their goddess."

The revelation hit you like a ton of bricks, and your face paled. "That's not what happened," you stammered, your voice quivering. "That's not what I remember."

A growing sense of dread tightened around your chest. "How could he have said that? How could anyone believe such a thing?"

Xueyi, noting the tension, interjected with a sense of urgency. "We need to move faster. The situation requires immediate attention."

Desperation clawed at you as you turned to Jiaoqiu. "I will explain everything to you, but you must promise me one thing: Whatever it is,,,you have to... you have to kill me." The words came out in a frantic rush, the fear in your voice unmistakable.

Jiaoqiu's silence was deafening. He didn't nod or verbally acknowledge your plea. Instead, he simply took your trembling hand into his, his grip firm yet gentle. Without a word, he began to lead you forward, the weight of unspoken promises heavy between you.

You reviewed the "Reminders When Visiting Hoolay" document, a chilling realization set in. The summary of Hoolay's crimes, his long-term enslavement of foxians, and the cruel alchemical uses of their blood stirred a deep, painful memory within you. Your eyes filled with tears at the mention of Jingliu's name, a name that seemed to pierce through the fog of your forgotten past. You trembled, the emotional weight nearly overwhelming.

In your moment of fear and sorrow, you turned to Jiaoqiu, your voice trembling as you tried to suppress the rising dread. You clung to him, your grip desperate, needing the reassurance of his presence. "Please, don't make me wait outside. I need to be here. I need to understand what's happening."

Jiaoqiu's eyes softened with a mixture of concern and confusion. "We need to keep you safe, but you don't have to face this alone."

Despite his words, you felt a pang of panic. You didn't want to be separated from him, not with the darkness you were grappling with. Your fear seemed to solidify into a tangible entity as you held onto Jiaoqiu, shaking your head vehemently. "No, I need to stay. I need to understand... I can't be left alone with this."

Jiaoqiu hesitated, his expression torn. The gravity of the situation and your distress were clear, but he also knew the importance of following protocol. "Alright," he finally said, his voice gentle. "But you must remain calm and stay close to me. This is a dangerous place, and I don't want you to be exposed to any risk."

With a deep breath, you tried to steady yourself, finding a small measure of solace in Jiaoqiu's steady presence.

Xueyi held out a small, unassuming pellet. "And please take this pellet before proceeding."

Moze frowned, eyeing the pellet with suspicion. "No, I'm not taking random medicine."

Xueyi's expression remained impassive. "Then you won't be allowed to visit Hoolay."

Jiaoqiu stepped in, his tone firm but not unkind. "Just swallow it already. Hoolay, like all borisin, can release a pheromone called Lupitoxin that induces fear."

You watched the exchange with growing apprehension, your earlier distress still fresh. The mention of Lupitoxin only heightened your unease, making the situation feel even more dire. You could feel your heart pounding, and you found yourself gripping Jiaoqiu's sleeve for support. "What exactly does this toxin do?" you asked, trying to steady your voice.

Jiaoqiu glanced at you, sensing your anxiety. "The toxin causes intense fear and paranoia. It's not just about physical effects; it messes with your mind. The pellet helps counteract that. It's for your own mental well-being."

You swallowed hard, nodding as you accepted the gravity of the situation. The pill felt like a necessary precaution in the face of what you were about to confront. Moze, after a brief pause, reluctantly took the pellet and swallowed it. "I understand," he said, though his tone was tinged with reluctance.

Jiaoqiu gave a nod of approval. "I knew you were a reasonable person. Now that we've taken the medicine, let's proceed."

Dispatched by the general of the Yaoqing, Jiaoqiu and Moze prepared to enter The Shackling Prison to visit Hoolay, the borisin Warhead imprisoned there.

They descended the steps, Xueyi led them through a dimly lit corridor. "Here we are," she announced, her voice echoing off the stone walls.

Jiaoqiu looked around, noting the lack of visible security. "Have we arrived already, your honor?"

He frowned slightly, scanning the area for any sign of a cage or holding cell. "Shouldn't there be a cage here?"

Xueyi shook her head, her expression solemn. "The most notorious felons are locked away in solitary delves deep down in the prison. Those delves can't be opened without proper authorization."

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the mention of Hoolay's isolation, your earlier dread returning with full force. As you tried to focus on the task at hand, you could barely contain your anxiety.

Xueyi's voice broke through your thoughts. "'The blue bird paves the path, and the Stygian Lanterns illuminate it.' Help me light up these lanterns, and the way to the bottom of the Shackling Prison will reveal itself."

You glanced around, noticing the eerie blue lanterns lining the corridor. Each lantern seemed to flicker with a cold, unwelcoming light. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, and approached one of the lanterns.

Jiaoqiu noticed your hesitation and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "It's alright. We'll get through this."

You and the others continued through the eerie corridors of The Shackling Prison, the oppressive atmosphere grew heavier. You glanced over at Moze, who gave you a subtle shake of his head. His demeanor was notably subdued, and the usual spark in his eyes was replaced by a steely, focused intensity. It seemed the grim environment had drained any inclination for light-hearted banter.

You turned your attention to Xueyi as she addressed the group. "I've given you the diagrams for lighting the lanterns. Please take a look."

You took the diagrams from Xueyi, carefully examining the instructions. The guidance outlined the order in which the Stygian Lanterns needed to be lit—from the bottom to the top. It was crucial to follow the sequence precisely to ensure the path would open correctly.

Jiaoqiu noticed your concentration and leaned in. "Anything unclear?"

You shook your head, focused on the task. "No, I've got it. Just need to follow the order."

With the diagrams in hand, you proceeded to light the lanterns in the correct sequence. Each lantern's flicker of blue light cut through the darkness, revealing the path forward. As you worked, the cold, ghostly glow illuminated the way deeper into the prison's depths.

Once the lanterns were lit, Xueyi looked satisfied and addressed the group again. "The path is open. Once we descend to the bottom of the prison, please do not do anything reckless."

Your unease only deepened as you prepared to follow Xueyi further into the prison. The oppressive weight of the place seemed to press down on you, but you steeled yourself for what lay ahead.

The group stood before the ominous door, Xueyi's voice was grave and steady. "Inside the delve behind this door is the greatest enemy of the foxians, Hoolay."

A low, guttural growl resonated from behind the door, sending a chill down your spine. The sound seemed to reverberate through the cold, stone walls of the prison.

Xueyi continued, her tone unwavering despite the grim atmosphere. "According to custom, envoys from the Yaoqing visit the Xianzhou Luofu once every century to check on this abomination's imprisonment and condition. Even though the Ten-Lords Commission sentenced Hoolay to the Forest of Swords, suffering every day for the rest of his life, I understand that the Yaoqing messengers want to see him dead... Unfortunately, for the past seven centuries, they've had to return disappointed because this beast simply can't be killed."

You glanced at Jiaoqiu, who spoke with a somber determination. "If we can use his toxin to create medicine and save an innocent life, it might help balance out some of the sins he has committed. Could you be the key to a cure for the General, Hoolay?"

Suddenly, a voice, dripping with menace, echoed from the other side of the door. "And once again, the envoys of the Yaoqing will leave disappointed. However, I won't say the same for me and my brothers..."

Xueyi's eyes widened in alarm. "Who's there?!"

The voice continued, with a dark, mocking tone. "I'm just a humble counselor of the Rhinohound Pack. You can call me... Mok Tok."

Panic flickered across Xueyi's face as she shouted, "Wardens! Intruders on the lowest level! Send reinforcements!"

Mok Tok's laughter was cold and taunting. "Nobody will hear you here, at the bottom of the Shackling Prison. Thank you for opening up the prison for us, your honor. We'll take it from here."

Jiaoqiu's expression turned grim as he recognized the stench that had been lingering. "No wonder I kept smelling that familiar stench. So, it wasn't just my imagination. Do your thing, Moze!"

You felt the urgency of the situation pressing down on you, your anxiety mixing with the oppressive atmosphere. "We can't let these abominations get any closer!" you exclaimed, trying to steady your voice despite the rising panic.

Moze, already on high alert, prepared for action. His usual calm demeanor was replaced by a sharp focus as he readied himself to confront the intruders.

The battle raged around you, a surge of uncontrolled darkness began to envelop you. You felt your grip on reality slipping as if a shadow from your past was clawing its way to the surface. Desperately, you shouted in anguish, clutching your head as though trying to hold back the torment within.

The overwhelming darkness took over, and you found yourself striking out uncontrollably. The scene was a blur of movement and chaos as you unleashed a torrent of violence. Enemies fell before you, their screams mingling with the roar of the conflict. The relentless energy you emitted was both horrifying and awe-inspiring, causing havoc among the soldiers.

Xueyi, her voice cutting through the din, barked out orders. "Guard the gate — they can't be allowed in!"

Jiaoqiu's urgency was palpable. "Hurry!"

In the midst of the turmoil, Hoolay's voice echoed with a chilling calmness. "I've waited... for too long... My first meal after regaining my freedom... is the flesh and blood of my fellow kindred. A sad scene indeed."

Mok Tok's dark amusement resonated through his words. "It's been a long time, Warhead. Welcome back."

Seeing Hoolay, your rage intensified. You let out a primal scream, continuing to attack the remaining soldiers with a savage fury. Amid the destruction, Hoolay clutched a doll that looked eerily like you, holding it tightly. The sight was unsettling, a grotesque reminder of your past.

The dim, oppressive atmosphere of The Shackling Prison pressed down on everyone as Hoolay and Mok Tok engaged in their dark conversation. The air was thick with tension and the distant sounds of battle.

Hoolay's voice reverberated with a mix of old pride and contempt. "How many times... how many years has the old verdant home, Verdantia, spun around since our last hunt? Ah, Duran's whelps, scions of borisin! Tell me your name!"

Mok Tok, bowing slightly, responded with deference. "O, Great Hoolay, nemesis of the foxians, and the hunter of all beings, I'm Mok Tok, a humble counselor of the Rhinohound Pack. I am but one insignificant heir spawned from your bloodline."

He continued, his tone almost nostalgic. "It's been... at least seven centuries since you led our Pack through the hunting grounds of the stars. I'm thrilled to see that you are as cunning and skillful as ever."

Hoolay's gaze turned sharp as he took in Mok Tok's appearance. "Seven centuries... Seven centuries have passed, but why have Duran's whelps grown to look like this? Tell me, Mok Tok, why have you grown to resemble our most despicable slaves and enemies, the foxians?"

Mok Tok's face hardened with a hint of bitterness. "I've been commanded to release you from this cursed prison. It is Sain Jiyaafate's will. That's why I had to take a magic pill, don the skin of a lowly beastfoxian, and play along with their hypocrisy."

Mok Tok spoke, you crouched nearby, trying to remain unseen. Hoolay's eyes shifted to you, observing your fearful, trembling form. A cruel smirk twisted on his lips. "Since you have an escape plan, tell me, what's our next move to get off this ridiculously large ship?"

Mok Tok turned back to Hoolay, his voice brimming with urgency. "My brothers and I will lock down this prison, trapping the prison guards inside. This will buy us some time. The rest of my crew, who are undercover like me, will secure the vessels for our escape. According to the plan, we only have a tight two-hour window to get out of here."

He continued, frustration evident in his tone. "Originally, I intended to carry out the plan tomorrow, but they're planning to transfer you to the Xianzhou Yaoqing now, so I seized this opportunity to set you free."

Hoolay's eyes narrowed, filled with disdain. "What a reckless plan, you idiot! Even if we manage to get the ships, our chances of escaping are slimmer than a foxian slipping through my claws!"

Mok Tok's voice was desperate. "But we have no other choice! The angel serving under the Master of Immortality sent me with a message, 'Only your return will end the prolonged divisions among the borisin.' Every one of my crew is ready to lay down their lives if it means setting you free."

Hoolay's laughter rang out, harsh and mocking. "A sneaky weakling like you is actually showing some reckless bravery with this plan. Fine, you'll get what you want... and all of Duran's whelps will too."

Mok Tok, sensing the shift, bowed deeply. "Well then, my Lord, we should leave now."

Hoolay's gaze turned to you, his eyes gleaming with malevolent amusement. "Before we go, give me one of those magic pills."

Mok Tok hesitated for a moment, then handed over a pill. "My Lord... you seriously want to don the skin of a lowly beast? That would be a disgrace to your greatness, my Lord..."

Hoolay's expression hardened with resolve. "You idiot! Greatness means nothing without freedom! Once I get out, I'll need a disguise that won't raise any suspicion."

Mok Tok handed the pill over with a bow. "As you wish, my Lord."

Hoolay then noticed you again, his eyes narrowing in cruel delight as he saw your trembling form. He laughed, a sound filled with mockery. "Is that foxian slave my meal?"

Mok Tok quickly answered, trying to maintain control of the situation. "No, he's an envoy from the Xianzhou Yaoqing. I plead you to endure him a bit, my Lord, as he's more valuable as a hostage. Take those two, guys! Time to move out!"

You felt yourself crumple, unable to control the fear and helplessness surging through you. You curled into a ball, trying to hide from the eyes of your tormentor, your body shaking uncontrollably.

[babyb1ues]

Xavier’s No Restraint

and when the string finally snaps.

“Young people don’t know how to cherish what they have.”

The concept of immortality is always a fascinating one. The dichotomy of life and death and what you lose and what you gain. What a long life strips from your soul and your understanding of the very same life you live.

Something about Xavier, he has learned to cherish–the hard way, I think. Modern humans, who get caught up in the windmill of life, a constant struggle, too busy, too tired, too distracted to live in the moment, sit back and take it in. Now, think about life, but without a clock ticking above your head, living in the blissfulness and unknownness of what it’s like to exist in borrowed time. No longer transient, unrepeatable. You take it for granted.

He went to explain himself as soon as possible. The meaning of his absence, pointed out by one of the targets, nonetheless. He’s got a habit of disappearing, everybody knows this. He’s worked alone for so long he’s become of secretive nature—relying on himself. But he’s got someone else now, and he knows he can’t just up and leave like he’s used to. If I remember correctly MC has called him out on this before, but this is no time and place to question him, so we get, “Why are you suddenly talking about this?” and maybe it’s because he’s embarrassed to admit it, and the wind gives a certain lightness to his words—carry them away after he’s delivered them, so he says then, “No reason.” But there’s always a reason.

He’s forced to come clean. I hesitate to call it a justification of his actions, it doesn’t feel quite right. I’d rather go for an understanding of his actions, he wants us to understand the reason for not just why he did what he did just now, but this specific pattern of his behavior, of his psychology—the disappearing without a trace, the nonchalant of his voice.

It’s like he wants to say If I leave is not because I choose to, not this time. And he doesn’t take it for granted, not this time. We know this to be true, to an extent. He knows we know. Nobody asked for an explanation, but he offers one, reaffirms it. Words are mere airflow unless you mean what you say.

One room. One bed.

He doesn’t mind sleeping outside. Outside. Where it’s a cold lobby and uncomfortable and probably noisy with the incoming rain. It’s not like he’s a stranger, he’d be let inside–he knows this too, that’s why he suggested it first. Xavier knows boundaries—to a goddamn fault, time and time again to the point it’s frustrating to watch. It’s like being scared of burning your hand. He hovers, hesitates, prods and pulls back. You know the fire would eat you up, but when all you’ve known is cold the warmth of a fire sounds alluring.

Xavier is shown to be on the edge of flirting with fire. It’s not the first time. The flame licks at his finger, dances around him, he lets it, only to later shut it down with a swiftness. This time it’s different though, there’s oil slowly dripping into the flame.

“...kneels in front of me, grasps my ankle, and takes off my high heels.”

And it’s him, he’s feeding into it when he knows he shouldn’t have.

“...leans against the edge of the table, shoulder to shoulder with me.”

But the light is too bright.

“Did you reconsider?”

Too warm.

“So I could have you all to myself.”

He prods with a finger. He asks if he’s your favorite.

And he can’t help himself.

The narrative reads “If we stayed there another second, a fire would’ve started.”

The card is called No Restraint, yet there’s a whole lot of restraint coming from him —all the time—so much that it damn nears aches, and it shows. Gazes caught lingering, hiding away yet still nudging a sleeping beast. He’s lying through his teeth, playing along with words he knows to be untrue, words that let him know that he is wanted. And he is wanting too.

He asks if you want to do something, before the rain stops. The weather has you hostage in this room with nowhere to go. It’s just you and him, and he needs to know, once again. He needs to know if you’re okay with it.

He’s at the edge of it, not fully engulfed. The liquid dripping down his temple transforms from water droplets of a shower to the moisture of his skin. He grabs the hand venturing towards his neck because it’s a game until it’s not. He parts his mouth, panting like he’s short of breath, as if he were fighting an internal battle.

“...I am trapped by something.”

The whisper of his name is enough to plunge him into the depths of it.

The flame bursts into a fire, and he lets himself be burned.

[purpleshadow-star]

Au where, when someone is ready to die, they don’t feel any pain. The more ready someone is to die, the less pain they feel.

tws: lots of talk about death and dying (not technically suicide ideation but could theoretically be read as such), mentions of Neil's torture in the Nest (very vague and brief) and by Lola (not really vague but not explicit either, if that makes sense)

Neil Josten is ready to die.

It’s not that he necessarily wants to die, but he knows it’s coming, and he’s made peace with that. He’s ready for it.

He’s not worried about his impending death. He’s known that he was never going to make it to the end of the year ever since he first signed the papers to become a Fox and put himself in the spotlight, so he knows that, no matter what, at least he’ll have a painless death.

Sure, his experience in the Nest ends up being more painful than Neil wants it to be, but it isn't all that surprising. He might be ready to die, but he’s not ready to die there. Not by Riko’s hand. He refuses. So, there’s pain. But that’s a different circumstance. Someone else is depending on him to live. Neil doesn’t want to think about what could happen to Andrew if Neil doesn’t keep Riko’s attention on him. So, it’s different. He needed to live to ensure Andrew would be okay.

In the end, it doesn’t matter anyway

Once Neil starts getting the countdown, though? Well, he knew he wasn’t making it to the end of the school year, but now he knows exactly how much longer he has. When the day rolls around, Neil is more than ready. He’s been waiting for this moment for months, almost an entire year, really. Sure, it sucks that Neil won’t be able to play the game he loves with his team anymore, and sure, it’s a shock to see Romeo and Jackson and Lola waiting for him, but that doesn’t change the fact that Neil is ready for them. He’s glad that he’ll get to take away this last bit of satisfaction from Lola. She won’t see him flinch. She won’t hear a peep of pain from him when she inevitably tortures him because he’s been preparing for this day for what feels like his whole life.

He’s prepared to die.

So imagine Neil’s shock when he acutely feels the sting of metal that is Lola’s first cut. He’s so surprised that he fails to hold back an audible noise of pain. Only a not so long buried instinct from when his mother was still alive keeps his next reactions in, but his slip-up doesn’t go unnoticed. Lola is behind him, slicing him up, taunting him. Look who’s not so ready to die after all. I’m almost disappointed by how easy it was to get a reaction from you. I was hoping for a little more of a challenge. Tell me, Junior, what do you have to live for? What is making you want to live? Why aren’t you ready to die?

Neil barely hears her. He’s too busy asking himself all the same questions. Just a few months ago, he took an exy ball to the stomach and barely felt a thing. What changed?

Unbidden, his mind wanders to Andrew. Andrew and keys and the Monsters and the Upperclassmen and Wymack and Abby. The Foxes. His team. His friends. He realizes that, at some point in the past few months, they’ve managed to get past the walls he put up. They’ve rooted themselves deep in his chest, and they’re not letting go.

They are the reason he’s not ready for death anymore. The thought of leaving them hurts. He knows it’s necessary. He knows he needs to let them go, or else he would only end up bringing more monsters to their doorstep, but he’s now realizing that he’s not ready to let them go. Have to and ready to are two completely different things, he realizes as his voice is violently ripped from his throat through the burn of a cigarette lighter on his face. He’s feeling this pain because he’s not ready to let go of his new family yet. He’s not ready to leave them. He’s realizing now that he might never be ready.

A few hours ago, Neil was sure he was ready to die. He walked to his death with open arms, ready to embrace a painless, inevitable release. But now, in the midst of unexpected pain and agony, Neil changes his mind. He thinks he wants to keep feeling this pain. He doesn’t want the painless release of death anymore. He wants to fight back. He wants to keep living. He wants to make it back to his team. He wants to make it back to his friends. He wants to make it back to Andrew. He wants to make it back home.

Neil makes up his mind. Even if it means distancing himself from the person he’s lied into existence over the past few months, even if it means becoming the person he’s been running away from for almost nine years now, he’ll do whatever it takes to make it back to his family.

Nathaniel Wesninski isn’t ready to die.

[samarecharm]

thank you for the long response! it was geniunely a very interesting read!! also i did not want to imply that you have to 100% like something or else drop it, that was not my intention (/_;)/~~ i just wanted to know what were the pros that outweighed the cons for you to continue the game!! i definitely have my own rant about the persona 5, as much as i love it.

i'm someone who has sunk hundreds of hours (i think about 400) into persona 5 royal, i have played the original as well and,,,,, i don't remember every bit of it as i got much more into royal, but your response definitely dug up some memories of my own gripes with the game as it was then. i bought strikers once i had a switch!! i was super excited to see ryuji and the rest of the gang again, but due to life stuff and me generally not being a fan of button smashers/combo games, i only got like 3 hours into it before i left it alone. also the lack of akechi was disheartening since after royal giving him more story i was wanting /still want more of him as royal, while not fully fixing his confidant, still improved majorly on his character in my opinion. but i trust your judgment, so do you have any tips to get back into strikers? it's really the gameplay that sticks out like a sore thumb to me, i'm not very dexterous with a controler and i get the hang of things quite slowly,,,, but again, thank you geniunely for responding so kindly and elaborating!! (*^ω^)

You are welcome 😊 I try to give the botd for questions like this, bc I have seen and received some very silly comments wrt to complaints of this game (and others people hold in high regard). Not that I am happy to see that you remembered some gripes w a game you liked, but it is easy to become a bit rosetinted about media you enjoy, and its good to go back and say ‘hey actually, theres some stuff i DO wish couldve been changed to make the experience better.’ At least u were polite about asking lmao

I think I am going to have the same problem I had before, so im going to preemptively put my strikers tips under the cut to stop it from bloating up dashboards 😭

I am aware that the warriors style gameplay is not for everyone; its very repetitive by its nature and it can be really bad on the hands if youre not used to it, so I unfortunately dont have a suggestion for making the combat portion of the game easier. But I am halfway through a ng+ of that game, so I at least have tips on how to make the combat less confusing, and how to spend less time on the actual combat itself.

Stick to one character and ignore literally anyone else in the beginning. I am so serious about this. The upgrades you get for ranking up teammates is used to enhance their combos, and that can be confusing in the beginning of the game. I had to fall back onto normal difficulty until i got the hang of everyones combos, so i suggest you do the same.

The ai for your teammates is surprisingly well done, and they will target enemy weaknesses and heal you before you NEED to be healed, which is always better than them simply forgetting to do so. They buff often, but they are a bit lax about debuffing without manual input (ann has Tarunda as a spell AND as a combo finisher, but she refuses to do either unless its targeting a tough enemy). You should prioritize builds that buff your entire team (so the competent team ai rips enemies to shreds) and debuffing enemies.

Combos are almost entirely optional if youre willing to jump in and out of Jails to replenish SP constantly. Spam spells, and switch teammates to spam their spells as well, then leave the Jail and return. Unlike the mainline games, leaving the metaverse does not pass time; only hitting important plot points like getting to the treasure and fighting the jailer counts towards progressing time, so you should abuse it as often as possible.

Due to [REDACTED] spoilers, you WILL need to at least master or understand three characters and their movesets. I obviously suggest Akira as one, but pick two more characters that work well with your playstyle. Ryuji was personally the easiest to understand; hes resistant to flinching, and his finishers are ‘hold X to kill everything around you’. Haru has a wide aoe for her combo finishers, letting her spin and shred through enemies or spam her grenade launcher infinitely. She has the added benefit of gaining more armor and reduced flinching during her hold finishers, so shes good for fighting bosses.

DONT fight those super hard burning enemies. They arent worth it 😭😭 you need to be at least 3-4 jails deep before u can even fight the one in shibuya jail 😭😭 theyre very easy to avoid, so just shimmy past them or ignore the area theyre in outright.

If you focus on understanding Akira, know that each persona has a unique set of finishers (yes, literally each one). If you are thinking of learning combos instead of just spamming spells, I suggest learning the pattern for executing his combos before focusing on what the finishers actually do. From there, you can test out finishers for each persona, and decide which ones are worth keeping based on that. I will say though, that the finishers kinda dont mean anything until you get to the end game, where high leveled personas will have spells like Concentrate or Debilitate as Finishers; but always know that a finisher spell is ALWAYS a spell that you can just as easily cast with SP. Dont make the game more stressful or complicated than you need it to be.

(As an addon, if you can understand Akiras moveset, then learning the other ones will be WAY easier since they are all virtually the same. The only thing you need to memorize is exactly what spell is used on their finishers; it took me forever to realize that Yusukes last finisher is…a combo enhancer…that makes his finishers last forever… and you would NOT know that unless u started learning his moveset since his ai never uses it)

If youre someone who wants to farm and level up to gain access to more personas, you should find the strong enemies around a map instead of constantly reclearing the entire jail. Unlike the mainline games, enemies do not respawn after leaving a floor; you gotta leave the jail and come back to make them respawn. If you are okay w the repetition, it is easier to memorize the spawns of strong enemies (not the minibosses that are burning) and beat them up for good exp and money, esp since all spawns are static. Silky in the Shibuya jail is the first one that comes to mind, since Ann is able to stunlock her w Agis, AND she spawns very close to one of the checkpoints (its before the underground section of shibuya but i cannot remember the name of it) making it easy to jump in and jump out to replenish SP, and continue farming.

And finally, despite what I just said, dont take the bosses of this game too seriously. They arent easy but they are absolutely doable without insane builds and optimization. Bosses have aids in the form of interactables of their respective weaknesses (Shibuya has party poppers with wind affinitiy thats eventually used on the boss to stun them.) Stock up on healing personas, Stock up on Items from Sophias shop, and target weaknesses whenever you can to force an allout attack as fast as possible. The combat can be overwhelming, but at the end of the day, the combat is really just ‘run around from attacks and spam spells or combos until the thing dies’. I hope that helps a little bit, and if push comes to shove, i will always recommend watching a playthrough instead of fighting through a game that feels like a slog to get through. Most of the story comes from the cutscenes and city interactions, so you arent missing much by watching someone beat up shadows for u lol and bc i genuinely LOVE the characters they introduce, its worth it to learn about them.

It sucks that Goro isnt in the game, but it was made prior to Royal iirc (the japanese release was the only one available for some time). I will say though, the themes of this game fit him so perfectly, and if youre of the mind to speculate and make aus, then you will be joining me in the obsession of making Goro interactions w the team. Palaces were about corrupted peoples desires distorting the world around them, and they were always someone so reprehensible, you were not intended to sympathize w them and even debate if what the thieves were doing was wrong. But Jails serve an entirely different purpose, and the end result is having Rulers with depth to them, and the overarching theme of ‘if you fuck up your life and others over the decisions you thought were correct, can you recover?’ And the answer is always ‘yes. No matter what, you can always start over if you intend to do better and be better’, and I think thats a good reason to see the entire story through :)

[horreurscopes]

you don't have to pay overdraft fees ever

the biden administration recently cracked down on overdraft fees which means banks cannot force you to pay them as they have become opt-in -- however you do have to call the bank (for example, paypal payments overdraft you even if you have opted out, as they function like checks.)

my experience is with wellsfargo but i imagine that most major banks may operate similarly:

if you have an overdraft fee, call the bank, you will get a machine. go through the autentification process with it but do not mention your issue when it asks you to (specially not the word overdraft -- this is a conspiracy theory i cannot prove but i swear to god they rewire you to more aggressive phone people if you tipoff the machine) instead say "i'd like to speak to a representative" the machine will be like "lol didn't get that" so you may need to repeat it a couple more times before it wires you to a real person

wait! i'd recomend calling as early in the morning as possible to avoid elevator music.

be nice to the customer service person who picks up (i make a point of thanking them for their help and calling them by their name, if i don't catch it the first time i ask them again for it)

my script is something along the lines of: "hi, i noticed there's an overdraft fee in my account that posted on [date]. i am calling to see if we (WE -- you and the representative are a team against the problem) could do something about it" (<- you may decide to be more direct, i just put my innocent hat on)

most if not all of what they say to you is a script. they will be like "i will check that for you with the automated process that takes into account you previous refund activity" BLAH BLAH BLAH. more waiting. if you have had any refunds in the past 12 months, they will be like "sorry the system says no (:" THOUGH, VERY RECENTLY, they have tacked on this question: do you have any thoughts on that / how do you feel about that / etc. though even if they do not prompt you, here's the next step:

say: thank you! i appreciate the automated review, however i do not agree/approve/consent to being charged a fee. is there any way you could check again / anyone else i could talk to / would it be possible to refund it regardless? etc.

they will check again, possibly more waiting, and then you will get an immediate refund! in the rare case they refuse to, here is the link to the FDIC website that you can refer to (note, this is for overdraft fees only):

8. i cannot emphasize this enough -- be nice !!!!!!!!!!! BE NICE! be cheerful, say "thank you" and "no worries" and "take your time!". it is NOT a confrontation, it is NOT their fault, and most of the time the customer service representative wants this to be as frictionless as possible. they are helping you, use the opportunity to make a moment of their day a lot less stressful than they expect it to be.

that is ALL -- i have been using wellsfargo for over eight years, and have lost hundreds of dollars to predatory overdraft fees charged as a punishment for having no money.

during the beginning covid, when they were momentarily suspended (you had to mention covid on the phone to get them back lol), i came to the realization that all of this time they could have been giving me my money back. there was no reason not to, except corporate greed.

do not let phone social anxiety let them take your money from you, now that it is easier than EVER to get it back. and if you need motivation to pick up the phone, remember this headline from a couple of years back lol:

DEATH TO CAPITALISM !!!!!!

[ceilidho]

prompt: it's been a month since you managed to run away from them. your luck had to run out eventually. tags: noncon, darkfic, ghoap x reader, previous kidnapping implied, stalking and hunting down reader. i am begging you to read the tags before reading this, thanks. 4.4k

-

You pay for the motel room in cash. Always cash. Never a paper trail if you can help it. Nothing that could ever tip anyone off if you didn’t want them to be tipped off.

You haven’t been on the run for long. Maybe a month, tops—but after the first week, the days and nights have begun to blend together like watercolours. You don’t do much during the day apart from sit in your room and wait for the night to come. Sometimes you venture out if you’re low on food or if the itch under your skin grows severe enough that you know you need to buy a fresh set of clothes and dump the ones you came into town with. 

Freshly dyed and cut hair. Jackets two sizes too big to make you seem larger than you are from the back. You’ll never be able to change the face god gave you, but you make an effort to obscure it when you can—surgical masks on public transit, heavy sunglasses even indoors, a deep mauve lipstick (purchased, again, in cash at the local pharmacy) to make you seem, from a distance, like someone else. Anyone else.

Sometimes remembering that it’s been a whole month since you escaped, since you got out, leaves you winded. You have to hold onto the wall in your pay-by-the-night, ratty, hole-in-the-wall motel room to keep from toppling over. A month without spotting one of them in pursuit of you feels next to impossible. Almost impossible. You still don’t let yourself think that you’ve fully given them the slip, that you’ve gotten the better of them. There is no getting the better of them. There is no outmanoeuvring the two men that—you’ve learned through painful trial and error—do not let up when there is still the trace of a scent.

And everything leaves a scent. Even you.

You sleep in the bathtub instead of the bed for fear of bedlice; these days, your neck has an ever-present kink that needs to be worked out. It’s bound to get worse though. It’s not like you can stop in this town now and call it home, not when you can feel them hot on your heels. 

You change in gas station bathrooms when you run. You’re learning a kind of awareness of cameras and eyes that you never would’ve developed before. You do not smile at cashiers. Your face becomes blank, unrecognisable. The goal is always that you fade into obscurity the second you step out of the shop, so that no one could ever identify you to the two terrifying men haunting your shadow. Even if they wanted to. 

Paranoid isn’t the half of it. When you hear a car pull up outside your motel room door, your body drops a whole degree and sweats like a night terror has found you in the waking world. You only relax when you hear a door four rooms down slam shut. Then you shake so hard that you swear you can hear your bones rattle.

This isn’t a life. It’s life like the promise of a tomorrow is the only thing getting you through today. 

You get on buses with no idea where you’ll be getting off. Pattern disrupter. In the months that you lived with them, you learned something. If your movements are scattered, they become unpredictable—harder to track down. You force them to stay behind while you skitter off, forcing them to review video footage, question people, even sift through garbage and recycling bins for any sign that you’d been there. 

It doesn’t make you any less nervous. You know they’re like hunting dogs. You’d love to believe that you’ve tried their patience enough for them to abandon the chase, but thinking like that gets you caught. Complacency will get you caught faster than anything.

The money folded and sealed in an envelope in your bag is dwindling though. Even for as frugal as you’ve been, food costs money—clothes cost money. Boxes of hair dye and bus tickets cost money. And you can’t stay anywhere long enough to hold down a job to recuperate what you’ve lost.

It feels hopeless. You trudge back to your motel room after grabbing a bite to eat at the pub down the road and feel like maybe this is purgatory. Maybe you died a long time ago, long before you got away from them, and this long path you’ve been burning across the country is just the long descent into the underworld. You let out a sigh, squeezing your eyes shut for a second by the door before unlocking it to go inside for the night.

You trip over something. It catches you so off guard that you almost break your nose on the carpeted floor, arms almost not swinging out in time to catch you. 

“Whoops. Sorry, kitty—took a lil’ tumble there, huh?” a familiar burr says from somewhere behind you by the door. “Gotta watch where you step.” He chuckles a bit under his breath, pulling back the leg he’d stuck out to trip you. 

Your body goes ice cold on the floor. The door clicks shut behind you; the deadbolt sliding into place is deafening in the silence. The thick knot in your belly expands until you think you might throw up. The only nonsensical thing you can think is that you hope the motel manager won’t be upset that you’ve ruined the carpet. 

You hear the muffled sound of knees hitting the floor and then a hand tangles in your hair, wrenching your head back. “Oh Jesus, look at the state of her, Lt.”

“Looks like she’s seen a ghost.”

The second voice is rough, like logs rolling over water, clattering into each other. It comes from the other end of the room, way into the darkness. They didn’t bother to turn the lights on, perhaps in an effort to make sure your guard was down. Fear grips the inside of your chest. Behind you, Johnny holds your head up high enough that you’re forced to stare at the patch of darkness from which Ghost materialises when he flicks on the bedside lamp. 

On the surface, he sounds almost amused, but as long as it’s been, you’re still attuned to the undercurrent of anger in his voice. His patience has been tried over weeks of chasing after you. He almost looks like he’s put on mass since you last saw him over a month ago, but that could just be the perspective of looking up at him from the floor. His face is still covered in the same half skull mask as always, exposing the shaved blond hair on his head. His eyes are narrowed though, terrifyingly mad.

“Poor baby,” Johnny murmurs, nuzzling into the back of your head. He props himself over you, not leaning his whole weight down onto your prone body, but trying to get as close as possible to you while still forcing you to stare up at Ghost. “Did we give ye a wee fright? Is that why ye ran off? I missed ye so, so bad, baby.”

“She ran off because she’s been spoiled,” Ghost snaps. He sits on the edge of the bed and it creaks under his weight when he shifts a little closer to the edge, leaning closer to where you’re lying on the floor. 

“I ken, I ken, Lt,” Johnny sighs, plastering sloppy, wet kisses into the side of your neck, fitting his mouth briefly into the crook of it, into the meat of your shoulder. “Cannae help myself, she’s just so—ah, kitty, am really sorry but you’ve really pissed Simon off.”

“No—no, please—” you gasp, breath splintered into short hitches. “H-how’d you—how’d you e-even find—”

Johnny shakes you by the hair, a bit rougher than usual. Anger finally leaking out like a drip from a loose spigot. You yip at the pain. “Of course we were gonna find you—Lt, ye hearing this? She thought she could outsmart us.”

“Pet’s don’t know any better,” Ghost says dismissively. It makes you feel queasy to hear him say that like you’re not even in the room. “Needs a lesson in not making us run halfway across the country after her. Get her on the bed, pup.”

“No, no, get OFF—” you try to yell, then gag when Johnny shoves two fingers into your mouth, pushing them almost to the back of your throat. 

When the urge to choke abates, you close your teeth over his fingers, flirting with the idea of just biting all the way down and taking them off. Only the fact that you’ve never done something like that before keeps you from instinctually biting through. Johnny laughs breathlessly when he feels your teeth flirt over his fingers though.

“Bite down,” Johnny dares you, voice quivering with smugness and rage. “Bite down ‘n see what happens to ye. Have nae gotten my cock wet in a fuckin’ month because you’ve been gone and Simon—”

“Quit talking to the pet like she understands,” Ghost snaps, finally standing up, towering over the two of you. You can’t help staring at his mud covered boots still rooted in front of your face. “On the bed. Now.”

You howl when Johnny takes his fingers out of your mouth and wrenches you to your feet, struggling when he coos and frogmarches you to the bed. No matter how hard you struggle though, you can’t break the way he has your arms twisted behind your back. It’s a short walk too, only a few steps, and then Johnny shoves you roughly onto the bed, clambering over you again. His hand forces your face into the mattress, not paying any mind to the way you grunt because your nose bends uncomfortably against it. 

“Always fuckin’ whining,” Johnny growls into your ear, fully pissed off now. His anger is electric, rippling down the length of you. “On and on and on—’n I’ve been so fuckin’ good to ye. Have nae even been a little mean. Being a fuckin’ brat to me and leavin’ me and makin’ us hunt ye down like dogs.” 

You can hear that he’s working himself up to a fever pitch, growing angrier and angrier. It terrifies you to think that you’re trapped under him, nowhere to go. Somehow, it’s a mercy when the bed dips again under Ghost’s weight and he pulls Johnny back by the shoulder, giving his cheek a little tap when Johnny growls and tries to bend back down. 

“You have all the time in the world with her, pup,” Ghost says, giving Johnny a rougher shove. “Get undressed. Can’t fuck her in your civvies.” 

“Yeah…yeah, yer right,” Johnny mumbles to himself, getting off you. 

Your head automatically twists over your shoulder, eyes following him. It’s easy to see in the spare seconds you get before you try to make a break for it again that he looks haggard, beard grown out a bit more than usual. Ghost usually makes him keep it short and tight, but apparently weeks on the road have tempered that military expectation a bit. 

His eyes are wild, electric blue, hardly blinking for how hard he stares at you. You tell yourself that you haven’t, on some small level, missed his pretty face. His arms bulge around the tight shirt that he easily strips off, pulling it off one handed from the back of his neck.

You hear him kick off his boots somewhere in the distance, but when you try to scramble off the bed, Ghost tips you over onto your bed and presses you down with a firm hand on your shoulder. He’s a bit less dressed now—hoodie pulled off and boots and jeans piled on the floor somewhere. Mask off. Familiar scars cut across his face—old burn marks and white spidery lines of fresh skin. Rougher than Johnny, not a pretty man; maybe without the layers of scarring he’d be a proper masculine kind of handsome, but with them, he only seems dangerous. Someone to avoid. 

He doesn’t say anything when he stares down at you. He says enough like that. He looks over his shoulder, away from you. “Johnny?”

“Lt?” Johnny’s at attention now, stripped naked and eager. When you glance down, his cock is already flushed and hard, excitement making him almost vibrate.

“Help me get her naked and then you’ll get her mouth, alright?”

You’re already struggling before the words come out of his mouth, frantically trying to push Ghost off you and opening your mouth to scream—the piercing shrill of it bleats out of you for half a second—before a big hand wraps around your neck and Ghost turns back to you. It shuts you up in a heartbeat. Not once in the months you were with them has Ghost looked half as terrifying; you’ve had a belt taken to your ass until the blood pooling under the skin almost burned, you’ve been manhandled and roughly positioned and been bent into shapes that your body could only just accommodate, but you’ve never, until now, actually worried for your safety somehow. 

“You scream—” he starts, moving his hand up just a little to grab you by the jaw and twist your head to make you stare at the bedside table, where a glock lays flat under the glow of the lamp, “—and I shoot anyone that comes through that fuckin’ door. We clear?”

You nod once. Sweat pouring out of every other gland, but the saliva running dry in your mouth. You lick your lips and swallow, hummingbird heart going wild in your chest. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Johnny mumbles, coming up behind Ghost to wrap his arms around him as best he can, planting a row of kisses into his shaved head. “Missed it so bad, I need ta—need ta—”

“Her clothes, Johnny. Take ‘em off.”

You only put up a little fight when Ghost works on unzipping and pulling down your jeans. It feels hopeless to try. Johnny almost tears your shirt in two to get it off, only being a bit gentler when you yelp. He can’t help groping at your chest when the shirt is pulled off you and tossed somewhere else in the room, big hands fitting over your breasts and plucking your nipples, twisting them like you’re just a toy for Johnny to play with. He slithers down onto his belly for a second to pop a nipple into his mouth, switching between kissing and sucking at the beaded nub like he can’t tell what he missed more.

Your panties get ripped clean in two. The sob comes out of your chest unbidden, tears finally spilling out. Ghost’s patience seems finally at its end. His eyes are black even in the light, all pupil. Your legs try to close instinctively, but he slots himself between them so you can only clamp your legs around his waist, stuck staring at the way his hand reaches for his boxers only long enough to pull the elastic under his balls. His cock is so heavy with blood that it droops, the tip dewy. 

Your nipples gleam with spit when Johnny finally takes his mouth off them, sitting back on his haunches and spreading his legs. It’s all happening so fast—there isn’t a right place to look. Either the monstrous cock between your legs that already has you feeling twangs of phantom pain knowing that Ghost isn’t going to even bother stretching you on his fingers before fucking you, or the pretty cock that Johnny is already rubbing against your lips, painting with his precome. You flinch when you feel Ghost spit on your sex; he doesn’t try to rub it in.

“Simon” he pants, fingers tangling in your hair again to keep your head still when you try to turn away. “Simon, please, can I—I need ta come so bad. Please, please.”

You almost say something and then Ghost pushes his cock in to the hilt in one brutal plunge. Your mouth opens on a ragged gasp and Johnny keens, fingers clenching so hard in your hair that he almost tears it out by the roots. The tip of his cock stays flush against your lips, even split open on your gasp.

“Please, sir, please,” he begs, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. Aching and desperate. Holding himself back only because he needs permission to put his cock anywhere in you, just like he did all those weeks ago back in their house out in the countryside. The one you thought you thought you’d escaped. 

Ghost chuckles, groaning at the feel of your tight cunt squeezing his cock. “Go ahead, boy. Give your cock a squeeze.”

That’s all it takes. Johnny pushes past your lips roughly, no finesse or gentleness at all. Maybe the capacity for it is gone after going without you for so long. You choke when the head of his cock hits the back of your throat, tears making your vision blur. Johnny preens and gushes over you, unable to stop babbling about how hot and tight your throat is, how much he missed it. 

“Oh shit, sir, she’s—” Johnny gasps, sinking into your mouth again and again, sweaty hand still clutching your hair. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.”

You feel close to the point of breaking, tight after a month on the lam, too tight for someone Ghost’s size to shove their cock into you without prep. You tell yourself that at least he bothered to spit on you, but lube would help a lot more. Too bad for you. His hands fit over your waist and hold tight, making sure you know that there’s nowhere for you to go. The first few thrusts are rough but slow enough to keep you from tearing—a small mercy, but probably not for your sake.

“I get—I get her pussy after, right, sir?” Johnny asks desperately.

“Dunno, Johnny,” Ghost muses, licking his lip. His thrusts get more brutish, faster; your teeth would be clacking together if Johnny’s cock wasn’t stuck halfway down your throat. “Gonna be a bit sloppy. Might not be tight enough for you after this.”

“S’okay, sir,” he whines, glancing back down at you. Fingers petting your cheek and tracing over your throat, trying to feel himself from the outside. “Jus’ need…oh fuck, please, it’s so good—oh Christ, missed it. I’ll take anythin’, sir, please.”

“Christ, alright, puppy. You can have a turn after. Been a good boy, huh?” 

You can only stare when Ghost lifts a hand from your waist to reel Johnny in by his mohawk, tugging him in for a wet kiss, still thrusting into your pussy all the while. Just a toy between them for their cocks while Ghost licks into Johnny’s mouth and mutters sweet nothings to him. Johnny moans into the kiss, sucking Ghost’s tongue when it’s offered to him and looking dazed, come-drunk. All fucked out and flushed, hips unconsciously pumping forward, just absently rutting. 

“Got our girl back, right?” Ghost murmurs, letting go of Johnny’s hair to smooth down his head and neck, making him preen. “Such a smart puppy.”

“Yeah, I’m good, sir.” He sounds out of his mind, slurring his words. Praise gets him like nothing else; it’s not easily given by Ghost, not handed out for nothing. “Did good…’m a good boy…”

The corners of your lips feel like they might crack. It’s hard to be careful with your teeth when you’re so overwhelmed, but luckily Johnny doesn’t mind it a bit rough. He hiccups when your teeth scrape over his cock a bit. He lips at Ghost’s mouth, dragging his tongue over the scar that bisects the corner of Ghost’s lips. When Ghost finally pulls away from Johnny’s mouth, a thin string of saliva pulls and then bends with the distance, finally snapping off and leaking onto your chest. 

Your flinch and squeak draws Ghost’s attention back down to you. 

You try to think of yourself looking down on the three of you instead of in it, but it’s hard. For as much as it seems like you’re just a toy between them, Ghost makes an effort to get you off, slipping a hand down to jiggle his thumb over your clit, rubbing it just the way you like. It’s sick how well he knows your body by now, how it takes almost nothing to push you to the edge of coming, core tight with the heat of it. 

“Gonna come?” Ghost taunts, scooping a hand under your ass to tilt your hips up, hitting a spot inside you that has you seeing stars, cunt flexing over his cock. You garble around Johnny’s cock as if to say something, but all it does is make Johnny groan and slump over you, holding himself upright with a hand on the mattress. His abs flex every time he fucks into your mouth. “Pussy this close to coming—you must’ve starved it. Good thing you didn’t let someone fuck you while we were looking. Woulda torn them apart.”

You can see the real threat in his eyes at that. There’s no way you would’ve, but the real danger of it crackles in the room. You feel like you’ll slip and touch the third rail if you so much as twitch under his glare. His jealousy at the thought makes him look like an angry god, chest heaving with every breath as he fucks you. 

“My baby wouldnae—” Johnny gasps, sinking his cock all the way into your throat and groaning at the squeeze, “—no, Si, she’s—ah, fuck me, ‘m gonna—fuck, fuck—Si, she wouldnae do that to us. No fuckin’ way.”

“She’d have a lot of making up to do then, huh?”

“She’s a good girl, sir, ‘promise. Oh, jus’ look at her,” Johnny gushes, sweat dripping down onto your face from how he’s curled over you. “So, so pretty. Maybe I dinnae take her…take her on enough walks.”

“Yeah…” You feel your skin crawl when Ghost stares down at you, not convinced. “Of course, pup.”

You know there’s no way he believes that. When they drag you home, you don’t think you’ll see the sunlight for weeks, never mind have Johnny take you on ‘walks’. Ghost’s smothering presence will take on a whole new meaning; he’ll snuff out the sun before he lets you walk in it alone ever again. 

Someone in the room adjacent to yours slams their fist into the wall a couple of times, jolting you out of your thoughts. The headboard must really be knocking against the wall. Ghost and Johnny ignore it though, Johnny so close to coming that he can hardly even form a sentence, solely focused on spearing between your lips. You can feel Ghost reaching his end too, fucking you with a single-minded intensity. Breath snorting out of his nose like a bull. The hair on his chest is matted with sweat, curls whorling around his nipples. 

You almost choke when Johnny comes down your throat without warning, hilting his cock until his balls brush your chin and his hand in your hair tightens painfully. He groans, drawn out and long, pained. It splashes against the back of your throat, almost familiar. You’ve done this before. You can do this without falling down a cliff and never climbing back up. 

He pulls his cock out before he’s finished, striping your face with come, twitching when he has to hold his cock from how sensitive it is. You instinctively close your eyes, grateful when you feel his come tag your eyelid. 

You hope it’s almost over, but Ghost hasn’t come yet and you know it’s going to get worse before it gets better. When Johnny pulls away to collapse onto his back on the bed, trying to catch his breath and dragging his hand over his stomach, Ghost hunches over you. He drags his tongue over your cheek, wet and nasty, and your brain almost switches off when you realise that he’s licking Johnny’s come off your cheek. 

“There we go,” he snarls, feeling you flex around him, the little tell-tale spasm of your approaching orgasm. “Atta girl—gonna come on my cock? A little wet sorry for running away?”

You try to say something, but your throat is raw, voice too hoarse for words. Even your lips feel puffy, swollen. Talking hurts. It doesn’t matter though, Ghost doesn’t wait for your response. He pumps into you like a machine, pulling his cock all the way out before pushing back in again. Your stomach cramps with the worry that he might miss and try pushing into the other hole.

You wish there was a way around it, but you can’t avoid it slamming into you, a white hot wave cresting over you. You come so hard it hurts, milking Ghost’s cock and pushing him over the edge too; he pants harsh, animalistic sounds into your throat, cutting himself off by sinking his teeth into the meat of your shoulder instead, making you howl. There’s no condom to keep his come from pumping into you; just a big, heavy man smelling of gunpowder and salt hovering over you, elbow propped on the mattress beside your head and making you go a bit crazy at the scent of him everywhere around you. 

He peels himself off of you after what feels like an hour, soft cock pulling out of you and making you clench down on nothing. You didn’t remember how much being empty can hurt. You try to roll away from him and onto your side, maybe squeeze yourself into a fetal position, but Ghost collapses down beside you and plants a hand on the centre of your chest, holding you in place. Never any respite. 

You croak a tired little, “Ow.” All it does is make Ghost snort softly.

Your body feels like one livid bruise in the aftermath, limbs loose at your sides. You couldn’t move even if you tried, even if you thought you could make a break for it. It would hardly be worth it. You let your eyes slide shut when Ghost runs a hand up and down your chest, a little comforting gesture. 

“Simon,” Johnny whines from beside you. Your brows scrunch, annoyed at his voice breaking the silence. “Please.”

You hear Ghost sigh. “Now?”

“Cannae wait—please.”

You wait to hear Johnny and Ghost get up. Maybe there’s something they have to do—maybe they drove to the motel and there’s still something in the car. 

A hand grabs you by the hip.

“Turn over, pet,” Ghost instructs, flipping you onto your stomach without waiting for you to acquiesce. “Promised Johnny a turn with your pussy before we leave.”

Your eyes go wide.

[headkiss]

you’ll always know me

part 1, part 2

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: even as the crowds at his shows get bigger and bigger, eddie munson still has you, his very best friend. or, (for my swifties) eddie munson is your dorothea.

word count: 8.6k

warnings: fluff, a little angst, childhood best friends to lovers (sort of), weed and smoking, librarian!reader, first kiss, so many uses of the words “i miss you,” and some idiots in love !!!

a/n: hiiiii!!! this one took so long but i really love rockstar!eddie and i hope you do too!!! this is inspired by tis the damn season and especially dorothea by taylor swift <3 thank you to my love @inkluvs for encouraging me on this one ily!!!

♫♩♪♬

It’s surreal to watch someone close to you grow so much bigger than the town you live in.

To know that the person you see on the news, at award shows on your TV screen, is the same one who used to push you on the swings at the playground, who used to walk with you to and from school, who grew up beside you, closer than anyone else ever could have.

Closer than anyone ever would, still.

To most people, he’s Eddie Munson, lead singer and guitarist of Corroded Coffin. To you, he’s Eddie, the best friend you’ve ever had.

You can go back years and years, and Eddie’s woven into your life for so much of it. So is his music. You can pick out the points: watching Corroded Coffin play for the first time in middle school, watching their first gig at the Hideout, being in the front row for it all wearing the widest smile, having the loudest cheers.

Even the late night phone calls you’d get when he’d be stuck on lyrics, when he wanted someone’s opinion and chose to dial your number instead of his bandmates’.

(“Hello?”

“I can’t get this line to sound right.”

“Let’s hear it, Munson.”)

You’re often in disbelief of where he is now. Not because you ever doubted him, but because even after so long, it’s strange not to see him every day. You’re insanely proud of him, but that doesn’t mean you don’t miss him.

Because you do. You miss him so much.

A box sits on the top shelf of your closet, one filled with newspaper and magazine clippings, articles about the band’s success, positive reviews about their shows and their albums. Things to show that Eddie’s dream came true, and that’s a rare thing.

There’s only one kind of tabloid you choose not to keep: the ones booming with rumors you selfishly hope aren’t true.

‘Lead singer of Corroded Coffin has a new spark? Read more to find out who’s caught famous bad boy Eddie Munson’s eye.’

You see him constantly in pictures, through a screen, but you only really ever see him on holidays, when he’s able to come home. When he comes bursting back into your life in vibrant fireworks with his stupid, pretty smile and stupid, shining brown eyes. When he comes back only to leave all over again.

You only have yourself to blame, really, for letting it tear you up. Because more than anything, you’re happy for him, so happy you could never express it properly, but still, there’s an ache in you when he crosses your mind, when the feelings linger.

Life in Hawkins for you consists of working at the library, reading your days and thoughts away, hanging out with the gang when you’re up to it, and that’s about it.

Eddie always knows where to find you when he does come home, usually barging into the library with his arms open for a hug, one you rush into easily. You always spend the couple days he has in Hawkins together, being the you and him you’ve been since you were kids. But the lingering reminder doesn’t fade, the reminder of him having to leave looming over you like a storm cloud.

Eddie Munson comes home sporadically, unknowingly taking your heart with him wherever he goes. And when his inevitable departure takes place, you’re forced to regrow what’s missing from your chest. Every single time.

-

Besides his uncle Wayne, who could only ever see him as a troublemaking kid, you’re the only person who’s never treated Eddie any differently.

Not in high school when he was labeled a freak, not even when the fame rose so suddenly it felt like a tidal wave. You kept him afloat. You keep him afloat.

He knows he should call more often, he knows that even if the phone works both ways, you really don’t have a way of keeping track of which hotel he’s in, which state, which country, even. He knows that falls on him.

Your phone number’s burned into Eddie’s memory. He could never forget it, and still, he can’t seem to find the time to dial it. He’ll get called away, or he’ll just be getting back from a show and barely have the energy to shower before getting in bed. Worse, he’ll get the panicked sense that you won’t pick up anymore.

At least he’s never missed your birthday. That, he’ll always make time for, usually phoning you at the same time that a bouquet of flowers arrives at your door. And somehow, even when he’s away, you don’t miss his birthday, either.

Eddie’s sitting on the small couch in his dressing room, waiting to go on stage, thinking of you the way he often does.

He wonders if you think of him, too. If you miss him or if you’re angry that he’s gone so often, that he can barely even manage a fucking phone call. Though, you were never the type to be angry. Never with him, at least.

He wants to hear your voice, wants to hear you tell him ‘good luck’ before going on stage like you used to. He peeks at the table next to the couch. Eddie’s not sure how much time he has before he needs to go, but he figures it’s worth a try.

Just as he’s about to pick up the phone in his dressing room, there’s a knock on the door.

“Munson! You’re on in five!”

He’ll call you later, then.

-

“Beginning descent to the Indianapolis International Airport.”

The muffled sound through the airplane’s speakers is followed by the ding of the seatbelt signs being turned on. Eddie shifts in his seat to look out the window. He’s got his own little cubicle in first class, and though this is how he always flies now (other than when he finds himself on a private jet, which is even more unbelievable), he’s still not used to it.

He’s itching to get out of this seat, then he remembers that he’s still got the trek through the airport and the drive back to Hawkins. It’ll be worth it to see Wayne, who he doesn’t see nearly as often as he should, and get his classic hug with a slap on his shoulder.

It’ll be worth it to see you, who makes Hawkins feel more like home. You, who reminds him of the person he’s always been, the parts that get lost on the road. You, who hugs him tighter than anyone else ever has.

His hands clench into fits in his lap.

As soon as Eddie steps off the plane, his security team finds him. He’d assured them that he’d be fine, really, but this is how it is for him now. Through baggage claim and all the way to the car that’s waiting for him outside, security takes a step whenever he does.

Shutting the car door as he slides into the backseat, Eddie tips his head back and sighs.

The car ride feels shorter than usual, the city fading into trees and fields until the ‘Welcome to Hawkins’ sign comes into view. The gravel crunches under the car’s tires as it pulls into the trailer park. Wayne’s got enough to get a better place now, Eddie made sure of it, but he never did. He’d never admit it but Wayne’s sentimental, and the trailer houses too many memories to let go of it.

After all, it was home.

Stepping through the front door there’s the smell that he’d never noticed until he’d been gone for weeks at a time. The settled dust, the faint smoke of cigarettes, coffee, and the room spray Wayne inevitably uses to try and cover it all up.

Eddie drags his bags inside, waves to his driver, and shuts the door behind him.

Then, Wayne’s warm rasp, “my boy. Get in okay?”

He’s wrapped in his uncle’s classic hug quickly, the pats on his shoulder and all. Eddie closes his eyes and soaks it in, just for a second, “yeah. It was fine.”

“Good, good,” Wayne says, pulling back and grasping Eddie’s shoulders, getting a good look at him. “Take a shower.”

“Is that your way of telling me I look like shit?”

“Nah, that’s me telling you that you smell like airport, boy.”

“It’s great to see you, too,” Eddie says, smiling.

He and Wayne have the kind of relationship that time doesn’t really affect all that much. Whether Eddie’s away for a week or a month, or two, or three, they fall back into things like he’d never even left.

He knows Wayne’s probably lonely, probably hiding more than he could imagine, but he also knows that he loves him, and that’s always a good thing to know, to feel. Loved.

“Shut up, you know I missed you,” Wayne shakes Eddie’s shoulders and lets go, “now go wash up and you can tell me about your last show over some coffee, sound good?”

“Sounds good. I missed you too, Wayne.”

Eddie carries his bags into his room, leaving them open on the ground rather than unpacking. He’ll just have to pack them all over again, anyways.

Before long, the trailer’s small bathroom is filling with steam as Eddie steps into the shower, dropping his neck back and letting the water run over his shoulders, his back. He stands like that for a bit, simply letting the heat melt away at the tension in his muscles.

By the time he steps out, the mirror is completely fogged with steam, and Eddie wipes away at a section to look at himself. The bags under his eyes, the mess of his hair that he doesn’t bother taming, the small scratch on his chin from one of his rings. He shakes his head and heads into his room with his towel around his waist.

He throws on a pair of plaid pajama pants and a faded band tee, his hair soaking the back of it drop by drop.

In the kitchen, Wayne’s got two mugs of coffee sitting on the small table, a seat already pulled out for Eddie to take.

“Thanks.”

He nods, sipping from his mug as Eddie does the same.

In the silence, he can’t help but think of you, of how close he is to you now. Mere minutes away. He wonders what you’re doing, if you’re reading in bed after your shift, if you’d just showered like him, if you’re thinking of him, too.

“I saw her the other day,” Wayne says.

They both know he means you.

“How’s she doing?”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll ask her that when you see her tomorrow, but she seemed good.”

“How'd you know I’m gonna see her tomorrow?”

“Come on, kid. You go to the library the day after you get in every time and think I don’t notice?”

Eddie looks down at the mug in his hands, his face warm. It shouldn’t matter, shouldn’t have him feeling all shy and nervous, like he’d been caught, but it does.

“She misses you,” Wayne adds.

“She tell you that?”

“Doesn’t have to. I’ve known that girl since she was little and running after you on the playground. I can tell.”

Wayne has always said that you’re as good as family, after all. Eddie used to joke that his uncle liked you more than him, and you used to laugh and joke back that he was right.

Eddie’s suddenly very excited to sleep, only to get to tomorrow quicker.

“I miss her, too.”

“Yeah, kid. I know,” Wayne leaves it there, switching things over, “I saw you almost eat shit on TV the other day.”

“Come on!” Eddie groans. He’d tripped over a fucking wire on stage. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was still fuckin’ funny.”

“Of all the shows, you just had to tune in for that one.”

Wayne asks about the tour, about how Eddie’s liking it this time around, about whether or not there’s anything new he’s working on.

In return, Eddie asks about the mechanic’s, about whether or not Wayne’s back has been acting up (which earns him a light slap on the back of the head), about what’s changed in Hawkins since the last time he’d been home.

Even through the smiles he shares with his uncle, Eddie’s wondering how you’ll react when you see him tomorrow, picturing how it’ll feel to be near you again. He gets that feeling in his gut, the butterflies that are nerves and excitement and questions and feelings rolled into one.

He’s pretty sure he dreams about you, too.

-

Your shifts at the library are always long; full days of scanning and shelving books. You’re lucky to say that you actually like your job. The smell of worn pages, the peacefulness (save for when Dustin comes barging in with his stack of overdue books that you let him off the hook for every time), the interactions that are almost always short and sweet since it’s meant to be a quiet place.

Your eight or nine or however many hour days go by much quicker now than they did during your high school job at the grocery store, that’s for sure.

You’re pushing the put-back cart between shelves, humming a random song quietly as you place the books where they belong, sometimes pausing to straighten things out. It’s the middle of a weekday and you’re the only person in there anyway. That is, until the small bell on the front desk dings.

“Just a second!” You call, squeezing between the cart and the self beside it to walk over to the front desk. You think your heart stops altogether.

You’d recognize that head of hair anywhere, the dark, frizzy curls. Hell, you’d recognize that damn denim vest anywhere, even the stance of the person wearing it. “Eddie?”

He turns around at the sound of your voice, and something lifts from his chest when he sees you. A grin spreads wide on his face, splitting his cheeks and crinkling his eyes in the corners, “there she is.”

Usually, when he comes home, it’s on a holiday and you’re expecting him, watching the door and waiting for him to walk through it. This time, you had no idea he’d be coming home. It’s the best surprise you could get.

You’re practically running into his arms, and he wraps them around your waist easily, yours tossed around his shoulders. Your face is buried in his neck, breathing him in, making sure this is real. “What the hell are you doing here?”

His hands clutch at the fabric over your sides, his head twisting so he can place a kiss over your hair, “had a break from tour. Missed home.”

And sure, Eddie hadn’t really realized just how much he missed it until he came back, it’s crystal clear now, with you hugging him. He really, really missed home.

You want to say something stupid and emotional like it hasn’t felt as much like home until now, or I missed the sound of your voice and the smell of your shampoo, but that would probably reveal a little too much.

“Just home you missed or…” you tease, pulling back to look at his face, his brown eyes that sort of sparkle. Your hands stay on his shoulders, his on your waist.

“I missed Wayne, obviously,” Eddie replies, acting oblivious and smiling at the small furrow in your brow.

“Eddie!”

“Aw, come on.” He tugs you in for another hug, his cheek squished against the side of your head. “‘Course I missed you, trouble.”

Trouble. You never knew you could miss a single word so much.

Eddie started calling you ‘trouble’ when you were kids, sometime in middle school when you’d stolen a bunch of his mixtapes and only returned them weeks later, when he finally noticed. He’d snatched them out of your hands and muttered ‘you’re trouble’ and it just stuck.

“Thank you,” you say, laughing when Eddie pulls back frowning at you. “And I missed you, too. Duh.”

“Duh.” He mocks. He lets go of you fully but doesn’t go far, leaning an elbow against the desk, “you’re doing okay?”

“I’m good. Things don’t change all that much around here, you know that.”

“I’m not asking about around here, I’m asking ‘bout you.”

You tug at the hair tie on your wrist. “I’m fine, Eddie. Promise.”

He nods, and there’s a small lull in the conversation that pinches at your chest for some reason. The sort of silence that never used to be there when it came to you and Eddie, always filling it with conversation or letting it be comfortable. Now, there’s something like awkwardness stretching and it stings.

Because it shouldn’t be there, because he’s Eddie and you’re you and you’re best friends and that’s all there should be to it. But it isn’t. You’re the same people, but so much is different.

“You working late?” He asks.

“Until we close.”

“Care for some company?”

You tilt your head at him, “you really wanna hang around the library for the last four hours of my shift?”

“Sounds like fun to me. I’ll even push the cart for you, and you can tell me what I’ve missed while I was away.”

It’s funny that he thinks he’d ever have to convince you to spend time with him, when you’re practically pulling at any thread of him that you can, when you’re taking anything he has to give you. Two days, a week, a couple of phone calls.

It’s all better than not having him at all.

“Only if you tell me what I’ve missed, too. Like all the cool celebrities you’ve met.”

“Not as cool as you, trouble.” Eddie taps your nose, smiling at the way you scrunch it in response.

“Shut up and start pushing the cart, Munson.”

He stands straight and salutes, “yes ma’am.”

You’re still smiling when you shake your head, “idiot.”

Eddie really does spend the rest of the day with you, pushing the cart while you re-shelf books, sitting in the extra chair behind the counter while you file returns, ducking when someone else walks in.

He asks you about Robin and Steve, Dustin and Lucas, how the kids are finding school, whether Nancy’s been hired at a big paper yet. He asks you about your family, and most of all, about you.

He hangs onto every word you say. And not once do you say anything to make him feel bad for being away, if anything, you can’t stop telling him how proud you are, especially when he talks to you about what’s in the works.

“I always told you you’d make it, Munson.”

“Wouldn’t have done it without you, trouble.”

-

The next morning, you’re sitting across from him in the corner booth by the window at Benny’s for breakfast. The same way you did every Friday in high school, at the same table.

Whenever you wind up at Benny’s when Eddie’s away, you tend to avoid that booth. It’s pathetic. Like his absence is clearer than ever sitting there when he isn’t. When he’s not putting whipped cream on your nose or stealing food off your plate.

Now, it’s his presence that surrounds you, his smile and his laugh, his foot nudging yours under the table.

The menu is sticky under your fingertips where you hold it, faded from sunlight and discolored from coffee spills that stain the page. You don’t really need to be looking at it—after years of coming here, you’ve probably got the thing memorized—but you need the time to collect yourself. To remember that this is Eddie, and there’s nothing to be nervous about.

You need the time to stuff down that flutter in your gut and in your chest.

On the other side of the booth, Eddie takes your distraction as a chance to really look at you. The details he can’t seem to picture when he’s away like the flecks in your eyes or the exact shade of your lips.

He never realizes just how much he misses you until he’s home. Until he’s sitting across from you and listening to the sound of your voice clearly instead of through a crackling phone’s speaker, until he gets to see the way your eyes light up slightly when you laugh.

It sort of hits him all at once, and he’s thinking, God, I should call more often. I should visit more often.

After a couple of minutes, you look back at Eddie, “you know what you want?”

“I’ve been getting the same thing since high school, trouble. Don’t need the menu.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go order,” you say, placing your menu back in the holder by the window.

When you start sliding your way out of the booth, Eddie places a hand over yours on the table, “I can get it.”

You look down at your hands, his skin on yours, like you’d expected to see something there. A spark, a burn scorching your skin in the best way.

“I know you can,” you say, smiling at him. “But it’s my treat, okay? I want to get it.”

Eddie always feels sort of guilty when he’s not buying, because he has more than enough money to take care of it, more than he knows what to do with. Sometimes (often), people expect him to pay, even. And just like you’d known how he was feeling, you shut it down with a flash of your smile.

You shift to squeeze his hand before getting up and heading over to the counter, leaning on your elbows as you wait your turn.

Still, Eddie’s looking at you, his hand in the same spot on the table.

He knows that, despite it not being a busy morning at Benny’s, people are looking at him, whispering the way they did even in school. Only now, they’re saying they can’t believe it, look at him now, instead of calling him a freak. And just like in school, having you around makes the talk bearable. Hell, it makes it disappear, if only for a little while.

When the waiter finally comes over to take your order, you send him a kind smile, rattling off yours and Eddie’s orders.

Eddie watches the entire interaction. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to make eye contact with anyone else, that it’s because he’s just making sure you’re alright. It’s certainly not because of how pretty he thinks you look today, not because of how hard it is to keep his eyes off of you.

The waiter is a younger guy, probably around your age. Someone Eddie doesn’t know. He seems to tell you a joke because you laugh, bright and sunny, and Eddie suddenly wishes that Benny was the one taking orders.

Because he should be the one to make you laugh like that, to be on the receiving end of your grin and crinkled eyes. Because there’s this weight in his stomach that feels a little too much like jealousy. Because you’re his best friend and he fucking misses you.

Eddie looks down at his hands and twists his rings around and around until you come back, the old booth squeaking as you sit down.

“You okay?” You ask, always noticing his nervous habit of fiddling with his rings.

She’s my friend, he reminds himself. My best friend, that’s all.

“‘Course I am.”

“The guy at the counter, Dan, wanted me to tell you he’s a fan.”

He shakes his head, “I can't believe I have those. Especially in this town.”

“Excuse me? Your biggest fan is sitting right here, in this town, Munson.”

He probably thinks you’re joking with the way he chuckles, chest rumbling. But, you’re not. The shoebox full of clippings says enough, and you don’t think he’d ever let you live it down if he knew about it.

“She want an autograph?” He teases, the heaviness in his stomach melting away. Your biggest fan.

“In your chicken scratch? Yeah right.”

It’s not long before your food arrives, plates of waffles and fruit, sides of bacon and hashbrowns. Of course, you inevitably end up with whipped cream on your nose and food missing from your plate.

It’s your favorite kind of breakfast.

-

You’re sitting in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van—the same van he’s had since high school, that he refuses to replace—heading towards Steve’s place. It’s not unusual for either of you to be meeting up with the gang, but Eddie’s still nervous.

“Are you sure about this?” He asks you.

They don’t know he’s in town, and as sure as you are that they’ll be thrilled to see him, Eddie isn’t convinced. You place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze lightly as he drives.

“Everyone’s gonna be so happy to see you. Don’t you trust me?”

“‘Course I do,” he says easily, without thinking, “just haven’t seen anyone in a while, you know?”

“We all miss you, Eddie. It’ll be fun!”

Logically, he knows nobody’s gonna kick him out, or treat him any differently, but it doesn’t stop him from getting nervous. You wanted to surprise everyone, and how could he say no to you? So, here he is, gripping the steering wheel too tight and worrying too much.

Pulling into the driveway, he nods, “here we go.”

You hop out of the van before he has it shut off, but he catches up quickly. He follows you to the side gate of the house, watches you unlatch it and stroll into the yard. The sound of voices mingling hits his ears as you walk around the house and find your group of friends sitting around in lounge chairs.

“Look who I brought,” You announce.

Your shout is followed by eyes flicking towards you, then Eddie who stands beside you. Then, a chorus of his name, plus Argyle’s “rockstar!”

“Hey guys,” he says, waving shyly.

It’s odd to feel this way around these people that he’s known for years. Robin and Steve who’ve rented him way too many movies for free, Nancy and Johnathan who are probably why he graduated high school, and Argyle who was always his most loyal customer.

All of these memories and he feels a little too much like a stranger. At least he’s got you, who feels like one of the only sure things in his life. No matter how long goes by, you’re there, and he hopes you always will be.

“You want a drink?” Steve asks, leaning to reach into the cooler beside him.

“I’ll take one, thanks,” you say, catching the can Steve throws to you.

“I’m driving,” Eddie says, jingling his keys.

“Eddie Munson being responsible,” Robin teases, “they grow up so fast.”

And just like that, he feels a little better. These are his friends, and even though he’s not around all of the time, and even though he may not be as close to everyone anymore, they’ll still be his friends.

You sit down on the empty lounge chair and pat the space beside you for Eddie, sending him a smile that says both ‘told you so,’ in your snark he can practically hear, and ‘everything’s okay,’ in your kind way.

He plops down beside you.

“How’s everything going?” Johnathan asks him.

Not wanting all of the attention on him, Eddie keeps his answer short, “busy, but it’s a ton of fun.”

“Everything you ever dreamed of?” Robin adds.

“You could definitely say that.”

Though, Eddie has this strange feeling that he’s missing something whenever he’s gone. It’ll go away, but somehow, it always finds him again, when he’s debating on calling or not, when he’s hit with a memory of you in the front row at the Hideout when he’s on stage.

He looks over at you and finds you smiling softly at him, eyes fond. He can’t believe he’s the one you’re looking at like that.

Eddie blinks and turns back to the group, “how about you guys? How’re the jobs?”

The chatter picks up and surrounds him, but Eddie can’t stop thinking about the way you were looking at him just then. He’s never had someone look at him like that, like there’s nothing but affection there.

It’s platonic, he tells himself. She’s my best friend.

You feel happier now than you have in a while. Things feel more complete when Eddie’s around. Things feel right. It’s all of your favorite people with no empty chair, it’s falling back into a friendship that’s existed for years.

When conversations split off into smaller ones, you lean your head on his shoulder, and the words sort of slip out of you, “it’s really nice to have you here.”

His heart beats louder, he leans his head on top of yours, “it’s nice to be home.”

And it is. Eddie loves touring, he loves playing his music, and he loves his job, but at the end of the day, he’ll always be this boy from Hawkins, and he’ll always be happy to be home, to be with you.

Catching the moment, Argyle—always sharing his thoughts—says, “sick, you guys are finally together.”

You and Eddie both sit up, like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t, even when you’ve sat like that countless times before.

Everyone’s eyes seem to be on the both of you now, and you have a tiny panic inside. Have you really been that obvious with how you feel? Does Eddie know and he hasn’t said anything because he doesn’t want to hurt you?

You laugh awkwardly, “what?”

“Like, dating,” Argyle explains.

“Me and Eddie?”

He’d been frozen for a second there, surprised that Argyle thought that. Was he seeing something Eddie couldn’t? No, no way.

“Just friends, guys,” Eddie says. “Come on.”

You swallow, forcing out a word, “exactly.”

“They’ve always been like this,” Nancy says, which explains enough but also sort of nothing at all.

Just friends. It’s something you know, you remind yourself constantly. It’s all it’ll ever be, and still, hearing Eddie say it out loud has your stomach feeling heavy. Just friends, get over it.

Even as conversation picks up again, as you laugh with everyone, the two words play in your head over and over. Then, after saying your goodbyes, once you’re in the van with Eddie again, it fades, because if you can’t be in love with him, you can be his best friend, and you’d much rather have that than nothing at all.

Once he drops you off, Eddie thinks and thinks about what Argyle had said. He goes over memories, over how he feels around you, and it hits him like a huge punch to the gut.

He thinks he has feelings for you. Big, huge feelings.

-

It’s the same day, a different sky, the sun sunk behind the horizon to give way to a sky full of stars and a bright moon.

Eddie’s van is parked by Lover’s Lake, the back full of blankets where you both sit, the doors open to look at the sky and the way the moonlight reflects on the water.

There’s practically an indent in the ground in the spot he’s parked, the one that’s been your go-to for ages. From day picnics to nighttime smoke sessions, it’s another place on the list of the ones that are filled with memories of Eddie.

Beside you, he’s got a joint in hand, the flick of his lighter catching your ears over the crickets and the breeze. You watch him inhale, his chest expanding, the smoke slipping from his lips. You turn back to the water.

“Your turn,” he says, handing you the joint.

You grab it between your fingertips and bring it to your mouth, feeling the smoke trail down your throat, further, then you’re breathing it out, clearing your throat at the tickle.

“Out of practice?” Eddie teases at your small cough.

“My favorite weed dealer went out of business,” you say, nudging his shoulder with yours, “so, yeah.”

He takes the joint back from you, “you don’t smoke when I’m not around? You know Argyle’s gotta have some stock.”

“Oh, he definitely does. A little too exotic for my taste. Besides, he won’t give it to me for free.”

“Getting cheap, trouble?”

You shrug, shoulder to your cheek, and give him an innocent smile.

It feels easy, the joint being passed back and forth between sentences until it’s done and stubbed out, the flow of conversation, the comfort that’s there. It’s always been easy with him, even when it hurts a little.

Eddie’s got on his worn denim vest, still full of pins, and you tug at it, “think this thing has a permanent weed smell by now.”

“I think that’s just part of my natural scent,” he replies, playfully flipping his hair over his shoulder.

His curls graze your cheek—that’s how close you’re sitting, thighs touching—and you giggle. You’ve had so many nights just like this one with Eddie, and it feels like some kind of reward that you get to have them still, even when they’re far less regular now.

“Doesn’t this make you think of high school?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Eddie’s hand is on his knee, his pinky twitches, reaching for your leg, “hell, I’m even wearing the same clothes as in high school.”

“How does it feel like yesterday and also a lifetime ago?”

Eddie looks over at you, the warm glow of moonlight and stars on your skin, the way your sweater hangs off your shoulder, the shine in your eyes that’s part weed and part nostalgia.

“A lot’s changed since then,” he says. “I’m not a loser anymore.”

“You’re still my loser.”

How is it that even when you’re calling him a loser, the idea of being yours in any sense of the word is enough to have Eddie’s heart swell in his chest, a balloon floating up and up and he has to swallow to push it back down.

“Stop being cheesy,” he plays it off, ruffling your hair.

You shove his arm away, “I just miss you!”

Eddie looks at his arm, your hand still holding onto it, he follows your arm with his gaze until it lands on your face. He thinks you’re beautiful, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen and no groupie could change that.

“I miss you, too, trouble.”

Something shifts, the air growing thicker, a sort of understanding between the two of you. There’s something here, something that could be a disaster but could also be so, so good. Could be everything.

“No way you think about me when you’ve got crowds and fans and-“

“I think about you a lot, honey.”

Honey. He’s probably called you that before, but never like this. Never dripping sweet and sincere, never looking at you like he wants to do something you can’t even let yourself imagine in fear of being let down, of hoping too much.

Eddie’s hand shifts from his own leg to yours, thumb running back and forth, burning you even through the fabric of your pants.

“You do?”

“All the time. You’re my best friend.”

Right. Friend.

“You’re mine, too, Eddie.”

And suddenly you can feel his breath fan across your cheek, your lips. His face is close to yours and the hair that falls over his forehead tickles yours. Just a second ago he’d been saying the word ‘friend,’ and now it feels like he’s going to do something to contradict that.

Against all odds, he does.

Eddie couldn’t help himself. Maybe he’ll blame the weed, or maybe he won’t, but before he knows it he’s reaching up with the hand that isn’t on his leg to cup your cheek and tilt your head. And he’s kissing you.

He’s kissing you.

It’s so delicate, so much you’re afraid to even breathe, like it’ll break in an instant. Eddie’s fingers squeeze your leg, urge you to kiss him back and there’s no way that you wouldn’t. Not when his lips are actually on yours, not when he tastes like weed and mint gum and something perfect.

It could be seconds or minutes that you’re kissing, tilting your head even more to feel him, clutching his sleeve tightly. It never deepens, but it doesn’t have to, it says enough.

When you pull away, it’s not one or the other who does it, it’s natural, like it’s been rehearsed time and time again. Eddie leans his forehead against yours, his hand still on your cheek.

“Was that a bad idea?” He asks you, voice low and quiet.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” And you don’t, because there’s no way of knowing what’s gonna happen next, if things will be ruined, if this will fade away like it never happened, or, maybe, just maybe, if it’ll start something.

“Was it okay?”

“More than okay.”

You don’t talk about it that night, and you don’t want to just yet. You’re fine with enjoying the pink-tinted haze at least until tomorrow.

-

Eddie’s barely been gone for two days and you’re not sure what to do with yourself. After that night, neither of you brought it up, and as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t. You were scared. And anyway, it was probably just the weed for him.

You’d never kissed before. Sure, you’ve come close, faces inches apart when you’d share a bed, whispers away, but nothing ever happened. Until now.

Now, sitting on your bed, chin resting on your knees, you’re reeling from knowing what Eddie’s lips feel like and missing him all over again. Rebuilding that piece in your chest.

Somewhere else in the country, in the world, Eddie’s position isn’t so different from yours. He’s sitting on the edge of his hotel bed, forearms on his knees, head bent. He wants to call you, and he’s figuring out what he’ll say when he does.

He misses you every time he isn’t home, but it’s never felt like this. There’s never been this ache in his stomach that won’t go away because of it. Fuck, he misses you more than ever.

The last trip back to Hawkins was different than anything else, because he brought back these feelings with him and he keeps reaching up to press his fingertips to his lips, like the memory of your own lingers there.

Sure, he’s had silly, sticky thoughts like waking up with his arms around you after a nap and thinking he could wake up that way forever, but he’s always pushed them down. Now, it seems, he can’t, the images too buoyant to ignore, floating back up every time.

Sucking in a deep breath, he sits up and reaches for the phone, dialing your number that’s stored in his memory. His leg bounces as the phone rings.

You’re startled by the screech of your phone on your bedside table, head lifting to look at it shake on the receiver. You reach over and pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, trouble. It’s not a bad time, is it?”

Eddie. His voice crackling through the phone sends a spike down your spine. You clutch the phone a little tighter.

You’d expected Robin, or Nancy, even Steve. Because there’d been a time, earlier in Corroded Coffin’s career, when Eddie would call you at least three times a week, and then the calls grew less frequent until they sort of died out to holidays and birthdays.

So, maybe a couple of years ago, you’d have expected Eddie’s voice, but not today.

“Eddie, hi. Not at all.”

“I- um, I just wanted to call,” a small pause, he clears his throat, “how are you?”

“It’s only been two days, you know how I am.”

“I mean right now.”

You twist to lay on your side, legs curling in towards your chest. You smile to yourself like an idiot. “Right now, I’m good. It’s lame, I already miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

The reply comes easily to him. There’s no thought to it, because in the past 48 hours, he hasn’t been able to stop missing you for a second. The warmth of your hand in his, the sunshine sound of your laughter.

He’s not sure why everything’s so big now, his feelings amplified, only quieted now, by the sound of your voice.

“Did you have a show today?”

You have a way of asking that makes it sound like you really care, Eddie thinks. He loves his music and he knows you know that. It means the world to him to do what he does, confusing feelings or not.

“Not today. We spent the day on the bus. Show’s tomorrow.”

“Nervous or excited?”

It’s something that you used to ask him before every small show in Hawkins, and the memory has a grin spreading on Eddie’s face. “It’s always both. More excited, though.”

“You should be,” you say. “You guys are really great.”

“Yeah? Who’s your favorite band member?”

He’s fishing, and you tease him rather than bite, “hmmm. Gareth.”

“Fuckin’ trouble. You liar.”

“You asked!”

“You answered the question wrong, honey.”

There it is again. Honey. You’re sort of glad he can’t see you right now because you probably look way too happy, burying your face in your pillow for a second before replying.

“You know you’re my favorite, Munson.”

“Yeah I am,” he sounds far too proud. And then, he’s softer, “I’m not keeping you up, am I? Time zones fuck me up.”

“No, no.” Even if he was, you wouldn’t tell him. This is better than trying and failing to sleep the way you so often do. “It’s not that late. What time is it for you?”

“Not that late,” he says, even though the clock on the nightstand reads 1:14AM. “So, what’s happening in Hawkins right now?”

“Mmm, it’s getting warmer. My window’s open and the crickets are loud as fuck.” You twist the phone cord around your fingers, “it’s donation week at the library, so I’ve been shelving new books for a change.”

Eddie listens to every word you say, asks you questions like if you’d kept any books for yourself (you had, but swore you’d give them to the library when you were done) and hums between your sentences.

Somewhere along the way, he’d laid down while listening to you, eyes shut as he tried to picture what you might look like right at this second. If you’re in your pajamas or not, whether your hair would be a little messy, baby hairs a halo around your face.

Then his eyes grew heavier, your voice putting him at ease even with the sounds of his bandmates laughing from somewhere in the hotel.

“Eddie?” You ask after he’d been silent for a bit.

“Hm?” He hums sleepily.

“I lost you for a second there.”

If he wasn’t half asleep, he’d feel worse. “Sorry, getting sleepy.”

“You wanna hang up?”

“No, uh- keep talking to me? You have a nice voice.”

You smile, cheeks pinching with the size of it.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll keep talking.”

And you do, you keep talking and talking until you can hear the sound of Eddie’s tiny snores on the other side of the line. You’re smiling again at that.

Even after you’re sure he’s asleep, you don’t hang up right away, not until your own eyes are growing heavy. You put the phone back quietly, like you’ll wake him if you’re not careful. You whisper a soft ‘goodnight, Eddie,’ as you do.

There’s a small stiffness in your fingers from how tightly you’d been holding the phone, and still, you’d let your hand cramp for hours to talk to him.

The next morning, Eddie wakes up with the pattern of the phone pressed to his cheek where he’d left it last night.

-

The TV sends flashes of color flickering across your living room and over your face. Usually, you’d be in bed by now, but it’s the night of the MTV awards and Corroded Coffin is nominated. You couldn’t miss it.

You’re not really paying attention to most of it, the sounds of performances and hosts and thank-you speeches filling your ears as you read your latest book. At least, you’re not paying attention until Eddie’s category is announced.

That has you shutting your book and sitting up, grabbing the remote to turn the volume higher.

They show the nominees, give far too long of an introduction before tearing open the envelope holding the winner’s names. You don’t know it, but you’re practically white knuckling the blanket on your lap.

“And the MTV award goes to… Corroded Coffin!”

You stand and place a hand on your chest, feeling your heart beating—racing—for the band, for Eddie. This is huge, it’s a dream, and it’s his. If you could, you’d give him a suffocating hug right now.

Eddie’s voice taking over, thanking his fans and Wayne, the boys and their team, then, thanking Hawkins and the people there, even when they gave him hell.

If you knew the right number to call to talk to him, you’d dial it in an instant.

Lucky for you, your phone rings the next night, late enough that you can only assume it’s Eddie given you don’t know anyone else who’s probably in a different time zone right now. You pick up quickly, fumbling with the phone a little before bringing it up to your ear.

“Eddie?”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Ummm, my amazing intuition? Telepathy?”

“Telepathy, she says.” There’s a soft chuckle on his end, you close your eyes and lean your head back to thump against the wall behind you. “How’re things, trouble?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that, mister MTV winner.”

Eddie’s been calling more often again, whenever he gets the chance, really. Even so, he never thought you’d be keeping up with him that way, that you’d care enough to watch an award show and remember what he’d achieved.

“You were watching?” He asks, heart thudding.

“Of course I was. I’m your biggest fan, remember?” You’re sitting with your back against your headboard, knees bent, hand absentmindedly pulling at a loose thread in your pajama pants. “I’ve got cheerleader pom-poms and everything.”

“You do not.”

“Do too. They’re super metal, all black.”

“Yeah, cause pom-poms are super metal, babe.”

Another pet name in the rotation, uttered like it’s easy, natural. You bite back a smile.

“Whatever. Mine would be,” you say. “I’m glad you called.”

“Me, too.”

“I wanted to call you yesterday,” you admit, twisting that loose thread in your fingers, “after I saw you won. I’m really proud of you, Eddie.”

They’re words he hadn’t been expecting, but ones he’ll be thinking about over and over. He wants to keep making you proud, he thinks, and he’ll pour that into everything he does whether he means to or not.

“Thank you,” his voice is quieter, almost shy. “I wouldn’t be here without you, you know?”

“You would. You’re talented, and there’s no way that could stay hidden in this town, you’re bigger than it.”

Somehow, it’s easier to be so open with him on the phone. You don’t have to look at him, get distracted by his tongue running over his lips or the way his bangs get caught in his eyelashes sometimes. This way, all you have to do is speak, nothing more.

“Trouble-” he can’t even find the words to say, because there’s affection laced in your tone, seeping through the phone and into his head and, fuck, he wants to kiss you for it and he can’t. “I really miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” There’s some silence, and the overthinker in you worries that you’ve said too much even though you meant it with every part of you, that you’ve given yourself away. “Anyways, I should go, let you celebrate your win.”

It’s what he would be doing if Eddie’s thoughts hadn’t been so full of you and your mouth and your voice. It’s what his bandmates and friends are surely doing in some club around here.

“You don’t need to. I’m not doing anything.”

“No?” You try to lighten your tone, to joke the way you usually do, “don’t have groupies knocking on your hotel room door right now?”

Instead of playing along, Eddie’s voice is serious, still soft in the way he speaks to you, but serious nonetheless, “I don’t entertain them, honey.”

“You don’t?”

He’s tried. But ever since you kissed him, probably since before that, too, Eddie can’t seem to look at anyone else, let alone have someone else kiss him and tarnish the memory of your lips on his. He’s only ever thinking of you, it seems. So no, he hasn’t fooled around lately.

“Not in a while. I’m trying to write for the next album. No distractions.”

No distractions. He says it like that’s true, even though he can’t seem to fully focus, like there’s a piece he’s missing. Like every lyric he’s written since he’s been back isn’t somehow about you.

He’s so, so fucked.

“Look at you, Munson. Squeaky clean.”

You hope he can’t tell that you’re sort of a mess, a stupid blossom of hope planting itself where it shouldn’t. He’s your friend, he’s always been just your friend. But you kissed and it felt like something changed, and you can’t seem to let go of that.

“You sound surprised,” he teases, gathering his wits the best he can.

“Can you blame me? You used to have multiple lunchboxes reserved for your weed.”

“You loved those lunchboxes and you know it.”

“Yeah, I did.”

And then, like that moment was simply a blip, easily brushed over, your conversation turns back to your normal. Jokes with underlying affections, teasing while picturing what kind of smile the other wears when you laugh lightly into the phone.

Time runs away from you, and by the time you hang up it’s well into the early hours of the morning, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

-

After hanging up, Eddie’s got this sinking, aching pull in his stomach. He knows what it is, has had bouts of it before where he misses Wayne’s hand patting his back or the way his mattress is worn-in just the right amount back at the trailer, when he thinks about what his friends might be doing or what science project Dustin’s got going on.

But it’s never felt this heavy. Eddie’s the most homesick he’s ever been.

He’d listen to your voice forever, but in that moment, he’d give anything to see your face, to see the shake of your shoulders when you laugh, the curve of your smile.

What the hell is wrong with him?

Eddie wipes his palms on his thighs before standing and walking out into the living room of his band’s suite hotel room. The guys are still up, and they’re all staring at him like weirdos.

“What?” He pauses in the doorway.

“Did you tell her you’re in love with her yet, or what?” Jeff, the electric guitarist, asks him.

“What?” Eddie says again because there’s no way he heard that right. He’d only just come to terms that he had feelings. This is much bigger.

“You’re joking,” Gareth pipes in, “you don’t even know it? Dude, you’re all ‘I miss you, trouble, you’re my favorite person ever.’” He does a knowingly terrible impression of Eddie.

“I do not sound like that.”

“You kinda do,” Jeff says.

“Why else would you be spending hours in that room on the phone, man? Come on,” Gareth sing songs the next bit: “you’re in loooove.”

Then Eddie thinks and thinks and thinks. The warmth that blooms when he hugs you, the jealousy he felt when he thought that server at Benny’s was flirting with you, the difficulty to say goodbye, the way your kiss haunts him in his sleep.

These idiots aren’t usually right about things, but just this once, maybe they are. Eddie Munson is probably, very likely, definitely in love with you.

Yeah, he’s so fucked.

♫♩♪♬

thank you so so much for reading!!! if you enjoyed please please please consider reblogging and letting me know what you think! it helps and means so much <333 i have plans for a part two, and if you’d like to see it, some support would help a bunch! ily!

[decibly]

Barry was hungry. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, as he could just grab some snacks from the kitchen, but he was watching a movie, and he was comfy. He really, really didn’t want to try and wriggle back to where he was now

“Phantom?” he called out hopefully.

A white glove emerged from the wall behind him, dropping an unopened bag of chips on top of his head. When Barry reached up to grab it, he saw that it was salt and vinegar, which explained why it was still uneaten. Phantom seemed to refuse those chips under all circumstances.

Barry didn’t really get it, because salt and vinegar was awesome, but that didn’t really matter. The point was, Phantom was a great person, even if he probably wasn’t human, and it didn’t matter if Barry hadn’t ever actually seen more of him than his arm, and he had told Barry his name by leaving a piece of paper on a table when he turned his back for three seconds after asking if there was a name for the ‘friend in the walls’, as Wally had called him.

“Thanks, Phantom!” The hand stuck itself out the wall again, forming a thumbs up.

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

Diana had found a bit of a problem. It wasn’t a big one, and was honestly more of an annoyance than anything, but her paper copy of Earth’s current standing with all known alien civilization was missing. She could get access to it again in a few hours, once the security upgrade to their computers was finished, but she had been intending to review it for a few weeks now and could use the extra time. 

An idea came to her suddenly, and Diana quietly asked, “Phantom? Are you here?” In answer, a chilly breeze blew through her hair. He was, then. “By any chance, would you happen to have seen my copy of th-” Interrupting her, the very papers she was looking for appeared out of nowhere on her desk. A green sticky note was stuck to it, reading ‘This? Sorry for taking it, but it was really interesting’

Diana smiled, hopefully in the ghosts direction. “Yes, that. If you want, I could see if I could get you your own copy?” Another green sticky note appeared on top of the first, this one just oozing the feeling of happiness. ‘YES PLEASE!!!’

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

Bruce… didn’t really know what to do about the teenager floating just outside the Watchtower. He looked like Phantom, from the few times anyone had actually seen the ghost, and he appeared to be enjoying himself in the vacuum outside instead of dying painfully, which was another point of evidence for that theory. Unsure of what else he could do, he knocked on the window on the off chance that he could get Phantom’s attention that way.

The ghost immediately vanished from view, and a strong, freezing cold breze blew in from the direction of the window Phantom had been outside. Bruce shivered violently from the unexpected chill.

Next time he would leave Phantom alone. Being out in space seemed to make him happy, and it was best not ruin that.

[satorusugurugurl]

The Single Dad Club! (Chapter Three: Gojo)

Summary: The Single Dad club consisted of Grto Suguru, Gojo Satoru and Nanami Kento! But with summer upon them, the men find themselves ladies who are willing to have them leave their self-appointed club!

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 5.2K

Warning: mentions of lost child, panic, flirting, fluff, cursing, oral sec (male receiving) smut, p in v, unprotected sex

A/N: The last and final part of the Single Dad Club Summer Series! I had fun with this mini series! Yay for Sexy dilfs!! 😈💚

Part One Part Two

“It’s official. God hates me and wants me to suffer.” Gojo sighed as he lay on the warm side of the beach. “He has doomed me to be single for all time..”

“You’re being dramatic.” Suguru scoffed, shaking his head as he turned the page in his book.

Gojo sat up, glaring daggers at his best friend, who was unbothered by the intense stare. “Oh, shall we review just how much he hates me?” Knowing there was no way to stop the bitching, Geto huffed out a sigh, placing his bookmark in place before he turned his attention to the white-haired man. “Exhibit one,” he gestured towards Nanami, who was building a Sandcastle with Yuuji and his girlfriend. “And Exhibit number two!” he stared at the beauty walking down the shoreline with Nanako and Mimiko. “Both you assholes went and got yourselves girlfriends this summer, disbanding The Single Dad club!” Suguru sighed, running a hand down his face.

“You’re still stuck up on this?” When Gojo pouted, Gero rolled his eyes. “You know it’s as simple as getting on Tinder, right?”

“All the people on there just won’t be for my body!”

“Well fuck Satoru, what do you want?”

“I want a summer romance like you and Nanamin over there!”

“Oh, I fully intend on turning this summer romance into a long-term relationship.”

The sweet, romantic tone of his best friend's voice had Gojo sticking his nose up as he gagged, sticking his tongue out. “Ya’ know what, kiss my well-toned a—”

“Gojo!!” The sound of Tsumiki screaming sent chills down his spine. He was on his feet in an instant. It was a scream that wasn’t full of fun or laughter. This was the scream all parents dreaded to hear.

“What?! What’s wrong?!”

“I can't find Megumi!!”

Those words hit him like a baseball bat to the gut. But Gojo didn’t allow the panic to take over. Instead, he pushed it down, running towards the crying Tsumiki.

“Where did you last see him?”

“I told him to wait for me while I use the restroom! I was in there for five minutes, maybe longer! But when I came out, he was gone!” The young girlfriend sobbed into Gojo’s chest, holding onto his white T-shirt as she cried even harder.

In situations like this, it was easy for someone to lose sight of what to do. Luckily for Gojo, being a firefighter allowed him to push the panic aside and process clear and concise thoughts. If he were to panic, things might go unnoticed, or he might act out irrationally. Right now, it was best for him to stay calm.

With a shallow breath, Gojo gently grabbed Tsumiki’s arms in an attempt to ground her. Feeling his hands on her arms and squeezing them gently, the young girl breathed more steadily. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Can you tell me where you saw him last?” His adopted daughter pointed him in the right direction, and with a quick shout to Suguru to watch her, Satoru was off, sending sand flying under his sandals as he ran as fast as he could.

On the other side of the beach, you crouch down to the small boy you had noticed admiring a sea turtle barricade placed on the beach. You knelt next to him, staring at the said. He turned his head, looking at you for a moment before turning his attention back to the sand.

“Pretty cool, huh?” You finally asked, toying with the whistle around your neck. “The turtles are protected this way, and when they start hatching, they’ll head straight for the water.”

The dark-haired boy hugged his knees close to his chest. “Yeah, I guess so.” You could easily tell he was withholding his excitement. As hard as he tried to play it cool, you could see the glimmer in his eyes.

“Do you like sea turtles?”

“I like all animals.”

“Yeah? What’s your favorite animal?”

The young boy narrowed his navy blue eyes as he slowly turned to glare at you. “I shouldn't be talking to you; you’re a stranger.” The blunt words and sharp tone took you off guard from a young boy his age. Was he even a kid? He had to be what, seven, maybe eight years old? “And what’s with that look on your face?” Damn, now he was even calling you out!

“Heh—I’m not a stranger, like stranger danger kind.” You gestured towards your white lifeguard jacket and red baseball cap. “I’m a lifeguard.”

“Well, shouldn’t you be watching the ocean? Making sure no one drowns.”

You laughed out loud, tilting your head back. “I already did that; I was just about to grab my bag and call it a day. But watching people in the water isn’t all we know. We help with medical emergencies, monitor the weather, and even provide water safety lessons.” The apprehensive look on the boy's face twisted into a more neutral look as you spoke. His eyes focused on your lifeguard gear, deeming you not to be some kidnapper. “But we also help get lost kids to their folks.” You ruffled the top of his hair before standing.

“I’m not lost.” He corrected you.

“Oh really?” Your eyes scanned the emptying beach. “Where are they?”

He didn’t say a word as he looked around, blinking a few times before standing. There was a look of confusion on his face as he turned in each direction, north, east, south, and west, as if he was on the search for something or someone. Your chest constricted as you could see his eyes flash with panic before he slowly looked back up at you.

“I-I don’t think my sister heard me when I told her I would be over here.”

“Okie dokie, where did you last see your sister?”

“By the bathrooms.”

You shoved your hands into your pockets, motioning towards the bathrooms with your chin. “At least we know where she is. Come on, I’ll walk you there.” much to your relief. The little guy had no reservations about following you to the bathroom. Sometimes, kids put up a fight, not believing that you were a lifeguard, and they didn’t stop crying until one of your coworkers came to help you. Thankfully, this kiddo was a bit older than the ones you usually dealt with, making it a less painful experience for both of you.

When you get to the bathrooms, you get a description of his older sister before stepping into the bathroom to see if she is there. Much dismay, there was nobody in the restroom except for yourself. His sister either ran off in search of him or returned to find their parents. Regardless, either his sister or his family would come looking for him shortly, and even though you had clocked out for the day, you decided to stay by his side until they arrived.

“She’s not in there kiddo.” You stretched your arms above your head. “We can wait a bit, but we might need to make an announcement..”

“I don’t know if they’ll be necessary. Knowing Gojo, he’ll be running around here within the next few seconds.”

“Whose Gojo?”

“MEGUMI!!”

You gasped as a flash of white flew past you. The shock had you placing your hand on your chest, feeling your heart rate spike as a man began frantically running around. He whirled around, searching everywhere, and it was fairly easy for you to put two and two together.

“Megumi?!” The man shouted, groaning as he ran his fingers through the tuffs of soft, pristine white hair. You hadn’t spoken to the man, and you could feel the anxiety radiating off him like an industrial air conditioning unit. “Megs?! Where are you?!”

He couldn't see the boy standing behind you from where he was standing. But the concern and fear in his eyes had you moving forward. “Excuse me, are you looking for—”

“Oh, thank god!” Large hands grabbed both of your arms, yanking you forward towards him. The smell of sunscreen musk became prominent as the handsome man leaned down to get in your face. “I need help finding my son! He’s about this tall! Black hair! Blue eyes!” He released one of his hands off your arms, putting it near his upper thigh. “A-And he was wearing a White T-shirt and shark swim trunks!” Beautiful cerulean eyes searched your face as if you had the answers to all of his questions, which way you did. “He’s a little too serious for a seven-year-old, but I wouldn’t have him any other way!”

You could practically hear the eyes rolling behind you as Megumi, you were assuming, groaned out loud in apparent embarrassment. “An overly serious seven-year-old? You wouldn’t happen to love animals, would he?” The man blinked and then twice before his frantic shaking came to a stop. “Because this kiddo was admiring, let’s see, turtle barricades.” You stepped to the side, motioning towards Megumi.

“MEGUMI!” Gojo yelled, dropping to his knees and grabbing his arms around Megumi and a crushing hug. His son grunted at the squeeze, averting his gaze as Gojo stroked the back of his head. “Oh my god, I was worried sick about you! Why didn’t you wait for your sister, like she told you to?!”

“I told her I was going to look at the barricades. Apparently, she wasn’t listening to me.”

You smiled, admiring the loving scene between father and son. The relief was visible in the muscles of Gojo’s back, and as hard as he tried to hide it, you could see the slight smile Megumi had tugging at the corners of his mouth. Little moments like this made you love your job even more.

You put the red duffel bag on your shoulder before turning your baseball cap around and clearing your throat to get their attention. Gojo released his bear-tight grip around his son, looking over his shoulder at you—a stunning beauty, white and red, who looked like she was by Zeus out of seafoam. Your body was perfect, your smile dazzling, and the way your eyes sparkled as you watched the scene unfolding in front of you had his heart skipping a beat.

Was it illegal to fake a heart attack in front of a certified lifeguard? Because he would do pretty much anything right now to have you perform CPR on him! But instead of raking up an ambulance bill and putting a damper on the whole day, Gojo stood up, dusting his knees off before towering over you.

“Thank you so much; I appreciate you staying with him.”

“Eh, it’s all part of the job! He's a good kid, smart too; you did a good job teaching him about stranger danger.”

“Being a first responder, I engraved it into his and his sister’s brains.”

“Oooh, a fellow first responder!” You took the opportunity to look him up and down shamelessly. “Let me guess,” Gojo smirked, placing one hand on his hip as he watched you slowly trailer your eyes over every inch of his body. He had broad, lean muscles, his legs were long and toned, and he had a pretty face. Long white lashes anyone would kill for, eyes with the same shade of Lagoon water, and a smile that had you swooning. You could have easily continued to stare at him, but you decided not to be a horndog and slowly trailed your eyes back to his face. “EMT?”

“Nope, fire rescue.”

“Ah, a firefighter, I would’ve never guessed. I would’ve needed to inspect you further.”

Gojo took his bottom lip between his teeth, shamelessly humming. “Ooh, sweetheart, I’d let you expect me anytime, any place.” He stuck his hand out in front of you. “Gojo Satoru, nice to meet you.”

You, too, his hand, shaking it. “Nice to meet you, Gojo.” Just as you gave him your name, you could hear yelling in the distance further down the beach.

Both you and Gojo turned your heads, watching as a group of people came running down the shoreline. People looked frantic for a second, but as soon as they saw the three of you standing near each other, their faces relaxed, and their running slowed to a walk. Assuming this was their group from how the children ran directly to Megumi while the adults stood back, you exhaled through your nostrils.

“Well, it looks like your families are here, so I think I should be getting home. I wouldn’t want your wife for your girlfriend waiting for you and Megumi much longer.”

Gojo snickered, glancing up at the sky with a grin before focusing his attention back on you. “There is no Mrs. Gojo. It’s just me, myself, and my two kids. You’re looking at the sole survivor of The Single Dad Club.” A choir of groans sounded from the group around you.

“Satoru, enough with that terrible club name!”

“I have to agree; it doesn’t work well when you’re the only member.”

“You guys suck!” Those pretty blue eyes found yours. “So yes I'm single.”

You bit your bottom lip, feeling a certain confidence burning in your chest. “What a coincidence, and so am I.” Gojo perked up; not only had you helped his kid, but you were a fucking hot lifeguard that was single on top of it?! This had to be one of the best days of his life.

“Uh-huh, well, I think we should change that.”

“Yeah? And just what do you have in mind to change that?”

“You, me, dinner and drinks. Consider it as a token of my appreciation for you taking such good care of my son. And I think you’re very attractive, and I would like to get to know you more.”

You could’ve done flips. You were so excited, but you had to play cool, not wanting him to know you were as eager as a seagull going after a fry. “I believe that would be sufficient.” You held your hand towards him. “I’ll just need your phone so I can give you my phone number.” Gojo was screaming in his head as he placed his cell phone in the palm of your hand, watching as your painted nails gracefully moved across the screen. “Text me, firefighter~.”

“Will do lifeguard.”

You adjusted your bag, waving goodbye to the rest of the group. And when you were out of sight and out of earshot, Gojo began violently fist-pumping the air. It was an action that had his kids cringing with embarrassment over his actions and the rest of his friend group. He couldn’t help it, though. It had taken all summer, but he finally scored a date with a woman who was just as kind as she was beautiful. Gojo couldn’t wait to get to know you more.

Two days later, when you both had a day off, Gojo took you to the best restaurant he knew. You both sat there exchanging daring stories of times at work. Where he’d been stuck on the second floor, where the fire was burning, or when you had gotten sucked into the current, trying to save someone. Both of you had an understanding of how dangerous work could be, and you both knew how precious life was. It wasn’t often you found someone you clicked with instantly like this.

Not only was Gojo remarkably hot, strong, and brave, but he was also caring and compassionate. Although he insisted, a lot of his friends and colleagues knew him as an arrogant ass. That didn’t change the fact that he cared about his kids. He spoke fondly of them. Tsumiki and Megumi had both lost their parents, and Gojo had taken them in, adopting them both and raising them as if they were his kin. That in itself was so attractive.

Knowing that he was fully capable of stepping up to the plate and wasn’t scared to do the right thing, he checked off boxes you didn’t think you had when looking for a partner. You found yourself entirely enthralled by his stories, the way he spoke articulately, and how he stared at you. It wasn't in a way that he was eye-fucking you across the table. No, there was a softness in his eyes, a look that included lust and curiosity.

And your assumptions about that look had been correct. Gojo had been right when he thought the gods themselves had made you. You look so pretty in your uniform for work. But seeing all dolled up made him think about how cute you must look on lazy days with your hair, a mess, sweatpants, and a baggy T-shirt. He found himself to know what that looks like. Because not only were you beautiful on the outside, but he could tell you were on the inside.

You were kind, compassionate, and brave. His son had been proof of that. But hearing stories of you going out during a typhoon to save some drunken idiot, he had an abundance of respect for you.

“Gojo.” Your sultry voices pulled him back into the conversation. ”If you keep staring at me like that, you’re going to burn holes through my skin.”

“Oh! Shit, sorry.”

You didn’t mind him staring; you would be lying if you said you weren’t staring at him. “Just what were you thinking about?” The softness that graced his features was not something many guys on first dates had. The majority of them wanted one thing and one thing only while you were looking for something a bit deeper.

“I was just thinking about how amazing you are.”

“Oh, I’m far from amazing.”

Satoru laughed, sipping his soda while you took a sip of wine. “Okay, have you looked at yourself? You’re a lifeguard; I’m sorry to be blunt about this. You’re very attractive.” His words had your cheeks flushing hotter than the wine, and that was because they were sincere. “You save lives, and you look hot when doing it.”

“Says the literal firefighter.”

“Okay, let me rephrase that. We both save lives, and we both look hot doing it. So I’m sorry for staring, but your beauty has enchanted me.”

You felt your cheeks burning, your eyes starting towards the table just as the waiter brought your dessert. “You’re very sweet, Satoru.” Satoru loved the sound of his name leaving your lips as he took the spoon off the plate and dug into the crème brûlée cheesecake.

“I think you’re sweet too.” He offered the first bite to you, holding the spoon in front of your mouth. “I’ve had a perfect time with you tonight. Being a single dad, I don’t get out as much as I want, and my dating life has been nonexistent. I was pretty sure I’d been cursed by the gods themselves there for a while.”

He watched as you wrapped your lips around the spoon, taking the bite off. “I know exactly exactly what you mean. Dating can be busy when you’re first responder.” You followed his lead, taking a scoop of the dessert into your spoon before offering it to him.

“Then we got lucky, huh?” He chopped down on the bite. You offered him, licking the cream off his lips. “We know how difficult it can be when you’re busy saving lives.”

“We definitely did. So, I think we should do this again.”

There was part of Gojo that didn’t want the date to end so soon. Both of you were having a great time, and the conversation was great. But he didn’t want to push his luck either. So, instead of asking if you wanted to go back to his apartment, he excitedly offered you another bite of the dessert before pushing the strawberry around with your spoon.

“Say, Satoru.”

“Yeah, Sweetheart?” You swiped some caramel off the plate with your thumb before bringing it up to your mouth, licking it off slowly. Seeing you do that had Satoru sitting up straight, his mouth suddenly dry as he did his best not to choke on the dessert. “M-mm?”

“What do you say after we’re done devouring the dessert? I take you back to my place and let you devour me?”

In all your years of living, you had never seen a man stand up and ask for the check as fast as Gojo did. It was cute but also strangely erotic in a way. He was eager to get you out of the restaurant and back to your place, and it took every ounce of your being to behave yourself until then.

Thanks to some unknown reason, you managed to keep your hands to yourself until the door to your apartment shut. As it did, you threw yourself into the firefighter, arms frantically working at the buttons of his shirt. Gojo’s eyes widened in shock at the sudden kiss, but that shock slowly melted into lust as he wrapped his arms around you, searching for the zipper to your dress. Hands moved nearly in sync as you began undressing the other.

Gojo sighed against your lips, groaning at the cool air hitting his bare chest as you unbuttoned his shirt completely. You pulled away from his mouth somehow, dragging your eyes down the dips of his abs, noticing faint burn scars that lingered here and there. That made him even more attractive, which was almost unbelievable.

“Like what you see?” The question had heat pulling between your legs. You did like what you saw. You liked it very much so.

“Mhmm~ I like it a lot.” Slowly, you crouched down, trailing kisses over his bare skin. “I want to see more.”

Your hand pressed firmly over his crotch as you pushed him back against the wall, and you dropped to your knees, unbuckling his belt. “I-Oh fuck!” A nervous yet excited laugh bubbled in Gojo’s chest as he looked down at you, watching you pepper kisses over the bulge in his boxers. “What are you doing, pretty girl?” The incredulous look you gave him made another laugh form in the back of his mouth.

“Did not make it clear enough back at the restaurant?” A white brow rose as you hooked your fingers under the waistband of his boxers. “I’m going to devour you, Satoru~”

With a fast tug, you yanked his boxers down to his thighs, freeing his thick, throbbing erection. It bobbed in the air, the tip pretty and pink, twitching as pre-cum beaded at the tip. Your mouth began to water as you stared at the beautiful cock in front of your face. Satoru groaned as he watched you gently wrap your hand around the base before taking him into your mouth with a groan.

“Oh fuuuck—” He let his head fall forward, eyes fluttering, threatening to close as you hummed around him. “Fuuck, you’re good at that.” He breathed out with a sigh as you began bobbing your head around his length.

His praise had you dripping as you took him further into your mouth, allowing the tip to slide down your throat. As you did, he jolted and cursed under his breath, and you couldn’t help but admire how reactive his body was to your touch. Every time you bobbed your head or swirled your tongue around his leaking tip, you drew more reactions from him. From him bucking his hips forward to soft whines and deep guttural groans. Every sound and action he made only drove you further.

You were on a mission to please. A mission that had your eyes water with each inch of him you took in your mouth. One that left you messily sucking this sexy man’s cock, a mixture of drool and precum running down your chin, hitting the floor. All of it was so hot, turning you on even more.

If given a chance, you could have stayed there on your knees all night long, pleasing Satoru with your mouth, but he grabbed a handful of your hair, gently pulling you off of him. There was a pop—followed by your ragged, needy breathing. Hearing that almost had Satoru reconsidering what he was doing. While your lips felt so good wrapped around his cock, Satoru wasn’t quite ready for things to end there.

“I need you.”

It wasn’t a want; it was a need. This man needed you. The raw power behind his words, the way they sent butterflies swarming in your stomach and caused your pussy to throb, was truly all he needed to say. This man did not need to beg or say please. Not when he needed you. Making him beg, while he would look so pretty when doing it, would be cruel at that point.

So you did the humane kind thing and rose to your feet before dragging him across the apartment into your bedroom, where you shoved him down on the bed. He didn’t fit or change positions. For one fact, you were far too fast, discarding your drenched panties and dress to the side before straddling him. The second thing was that he liked you taking the lead and doing what you wanted without asking him to be the more assertive.

“I need you too~” You whispered as you reached behind, gently taking his spit-slick cock. “I need you really bad.”

“Fuuuck,” Satoru groaned, biting down on your lips as you kissed him. “Then have me, sweetheart, have every part of me; I’m yours.”

Those words rang in your ears as you slowly lowered yourself onto his thick length. The feel of his stretching your tight walls had both of you groaning into each other's mouths as you made out. The kiss was deep and intimate, which was fitting, seeing that you were lowering yourself onto his length. The kiss, however, wasn’t similar to the one-night-stand kisses you had shared in the past. Those kisses were fueled by the desire to fuck and get off. While this kiss, while the lust and need were there, was also filled by a need to relish in each other. Almost like a silent promise, a mutual understanding that this would not be a one-night stand.

This was something more, something real and deeper.

Both you and Satoru could feel that as you pulled back away from his mouth, sitting up tall as your hips sat against each other flesh to flesh. The pleasure of merely being connected was so intense, so pleasurable; it made your eyes roll back as Satoru’s hands found their way to your hips, holding them as you lazily rolled them over his cock. With each roll of your body, muscles tensing as you rocked, Satoru was entranced by your body.

How you moved reminded him of the waves on the shore—powerful and beautiful, majestic and entrancing. You rolled with such ease, your mouth falling agape in pleasure, that Satoru had to fight the urge to thrust up into you. Because of this, watching you use him was so arousing.

“Mmm~ fuck baby, your cock is so thick!”

Satoru grinned as a harsh moan was fucked out of him with your seductive moves. “Mm~ fuck, yeah? Does it feel good in that tight pussy of yours?”

“Y-Yeah~! Feels good~ it feels really good!” You pressed your hands firmly against his pectoral muscles as you rocked fast, bumping his cock like he was your own personal sex toy.

“Yeah~ fuck you feel so good too.”

Knowing that he felt as good as you did had you digging your nails into his chest as you began bouncing up and down his length. Satoru hissed out a curse as his fingers dug into the fat of your hips, squeezing you as you left crescent moon indents in his skin as you rode him harder than he’d ever been ridden before. He felt drunk, head spinning as his eyes roamed over every part of you. From your face twisted with pleasure, your hips rising and falling on his length.

As he admired your beauty, you did the same to him. Watching his pretty ivory skin flush with each bounce on him. How he watched you through the frame of thick lashes. He truly was handsome. Fuck even the sounds he made were intoxicating.

There was a mutual admiration for each other, which seemed to make things all the more intense.

“Nngh!” Satoru clenched his teeth as you bounced madly on him. “Fuck~! Fuck~!”

You could feel his entire length twice inside of you, urging you to keep going. “F-Fuck your throbbing! Satoru!” He growled from underneath you, sitting up, holding a hand against the small of your back. “Hahn! Fuck!” He smirked, nipping at your bottom lip as he slowly began thrusting into you.

“Yeah~ you feel so good, you’re so wet and tight~!”

“N-nngh, yes, yes!”

“I can feel you throbbing, too~ god, you feel so good! So wet baby~ so tight.” He kissed you, stealing your breath away. “Are you gonna cum?”

“Y-Yeah!!”

Satoru grunted, his thrusts becoming messier. “Good~ cum for me, sweetheart~ I wanna cum with you.” He slammed his lips against yours as you rolled faster and harder, grinning your clit against him, chasing that sweet release until you both reached it at the same time. “C-Cumming!” Satoru grunted as he kissed you with a passionate heat.

“Me too!” You screamed as you moaned against his lips. As you came hard, soaking his pelvis with your release, he filled you with hot sticky cum.

As the aftershocks of your orgasm washed over you both, you fell forward, resting on Satoru’s chest as he placed a kiss against your forehead. “Fuuck, you‘re perfect.” Satoru trailed kisses down your temple to your lips.

“That tickles!” you laughed as he kissed you deeply. “Mhmm~”

“You don't seem to mind all that much.”

“Yeah, you're right. I don't.” He groaned, rolling you onto your sides so you were spooning. “Just like you won't mind me waking you up and making the best French Toast in the morning.”

“Ha—yeah, I have a massive sweet tooth, so I’ll probably be all over you tomorrow morning. In more ways than one.”

You turned just enough to kiss him softly, winning a grin. “That sounds like a pretty great morning to me.”

You pressed another chaste kiss against his lips. Gojo was grinning as he snuggled you tighter against him. It was a soft, sweet, intimate moment, once Satoru had longed for all summer. A romance like his friends had found, one he too wanted to last way past the summer months into autumn, winter, and spring. A romance that could last a lifetime.

That night, The Single Dad Club was officially disbanded completely.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree

[rotthepoet]

There's definitely mutual feelings if there gonna help you buy a vibrator 😝

IM SO SORRY BABES I HAVE HAD THE WORST WRITING BLOCK

So obvs theres some crushing and its like apparently to everyone but the two of you.

Draco doesn’t even know what hit him, hes out here spoiling you into loving him, and hes just such a great friend! Look at him go! He doesnt even care when you pull him into a store with blacked out windows. I mean. He sure as fuck notices when his eyes land upon copious amounts of dildos and panties. He doesnt even know where to look. He wants to direct you to the lingerie but you lead him to a wall full of vibrators. And hes fucking sweating okay? Man is losing his cool. Pulling on his shirt collar and puffing slightly. “I cant decide between these two” as you present two veey large and complex toys to him. He cant even look you in the eyes when he grabs the boxes for you. He doesnt look at the cashier either while checking out.

Blaise is a bit more cool about it, having actually had a conversation about it before. “Hey, weird question, Pans bailed on me, so do you want to help me pick out a new vibe?” And while his eyes go wide and he has to take a second, he does verbally agree. So there you stand in the sex shop, comparing different shapes and sizes, cordless and remote controlled. He’s really insightful actually. “Look at this one, if you turn it around it doubles as a dildo.” He offers to but the most expensive, ridiculous looking vibrator in the shop. While it becomes an inside joke amongst you two, he wants nothing more than to watch you use it.

Mattheo, that little shit, he actually dragged you into the store. He needed more lube(you didnt ask why, and didnt want to know) so to entertain yourself, you browsed the various dildos and vibes. Naturally this dickwad comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, peering over your shoulder. “I didnt know you were…” “sexually active?” “A whore.” He leaves the store with a bruise and you leave it with a smile and new toy to play with.(trust he shamelessly asks for a video later)

Theodore accidentally found your laptop open on a site, and he sat there for a few mimosas scrolling through your cart. He gave you a disappointed look when you came back into the room. “Look at the reviews on these before you even consider them. Who even online shops for dick?” You just roll your eyes at him as he continues hounding you, offering instead to show you what he would recommend. Online shopping takes about 2 hours with him before you even hit purchase.

Lorenzo and you were playing one on one truth or dare out in the common room. Everyone else was busy, but boredom strikes when least expected. After a few rounds, each getting more risqué than the last, Lorenzo finally asks you what yiur favorite way to pleasure yourself is. And you can only imagine the pure shock on his face when you get out a blushy “I dont really like… use any toys.” And hes taking you out on the town immediately, despite your flustered protests.

[eskumii]

yandere!incel!tomura shigaraki + foreigner!darling who can't speak japanese

TITLE: " RENT-A-GF " — navi.

NOTES: nsfw (18+ only) below the cut (non-con!! somnophilia!!) reminder: this is merely fantasy, i don't condone. will prob proofread someday lol. enjoy!

PAIRING: yandere!incel!shigaraki tomura x foreinger!reader

GENRE/AU: shigaraki is rlly misogynistic and delusional, age gap (you're older), reader is a substitute english teacher who got kidnapped by bwad gwuys and is now... yeah

CHARACTERS: shigaraki tomura (21), reader (24)

let's be for real: shigaraki was born to be an incel.

and incel!shigaraki is shamelessly self-aware of this, indeed. when he's not out terrorizing innocent citizens with his villainous coups, he takes to the internet to fulfill his insatiable need for an adrenaline rush. gorey video games and brutal death metal makes him light up in glee, but sometimes it's just not enough.

so, instead, he's a frequent on the dark web, diligently scouring sites that specialize in obscure female porn collectives that cater to his twisted kinks. incel!shigaraki glowers at the pictures of stupid, slutty women who prance around in sexy lingerie, but still gets a hard-on because he wishes he had a woman who would do that for him and him only.

and what shigaraki wants, he gets. on another sweaty night in his dark bedroom, he's boredly clicking through the hundreds of entries of women who are being sold for, what he thinks, too high of a price. not that money would ever be a problem for him; if he felt compelled to, he could just kidnap the girl he wanted all over again. so, no, it's not the price—it's what he thinks they're worth based on his attraction to them.

and, so far, all of them are worthless.

you see, the conundrum is that incel!shigaraki has a thing for foreign girls. don't ask why, he doesn't know. maybe he finds it cute that they're so clueless about his culture and language, and he's the one who'll control the narrative that rules their ignorance. maybe it's so cute how they wear their perpetual confusion on their face at all times, like a bratty kid who can't navigate the world without mommy or daddy by their side.

of course, though, women could hardly do anything on their own anyway. every time he came across one they'd wail and cry as he grabbed them by the hair and threatened to kill them if they didn't shut the hell up. they'd beg for their lives or scream for someone to save them, but it would only piss him off more at how useless and brainless they tended to be. he just couldn't help but decay them—they were so noisy and whiny, it wasn't his fault.

obviously, shigaraki has neither patience nor experience with women. in fact, he can probably count with two fingers how many times he's had a non-violent interaction with a woman in his entire lifetime. the mere thought of this drives his insecurities to the brink of rage, but it's not his fault women are so unbelievably tasteless in their choice of men. it's their fault he has to go to such lengths to find a decent woman worthy of his presence.

but imagine his delight when he happens upon a listing of you, an immediately attractive foreign woman who used to be an english substitute teacher of all things. he clicks through your pictures with a renewed vigor, his interest piqued as he studies your unique features. eagerly, he scours through your posted information and it turns out that you happen to be exactly the kind of woman he's looking for.

it's a done deal. the transaction takes less than a few minutes and incel!shigaraki couldn't be more pleased with how smoothly it went. he'll have to leave a good review later on, when and if the woman he's just bought has satisfied him.

it takes just one night before shigaraki finds you literally dropped off at his doorstep like an amazon prime package. you’ve clearly been pampered with the way you’re clad in a skimpy maid outfit; your nails, hair, and makeup are all dolled to perfection. you look exactly like you did in the pictures.

and clearly you're wise beyond your years. you don't speak much because of the obvious language barrier, but you do seem to understand a bit of elementary japanese. shigaraki is delighted by your small mutterings of broken japanese—it’s unbelievably cute. sometimes he'll force you to speak in japanese just because he loves watching you struggle with your limited vocabulary.

incel!shigaraki gets attached to you. you're very attractive in his eyes, and he's completely ecstatic that you're all his. a woman he can do whatever he wants with, and no one would dare question him. the immense power trip sends him over the edge.

that being said, the first couple of weeks are still rather... awkward. you're not happy about being in the situation you're in, but you're smart enough to keep that to yourself. you don't fuss when shigaraki orders you to fetch him liquor or tidy up his filthy room, nor do you complain when he commands you to cuddle with him or keep him company while he plays video games.

"[name], c'mere," he'd bark at you, eyes still glued to the tv screen.

"be a good girl and keep my lap warm, hm?"

he'll force you to wear cute lingerie sets like he's seen the women on porn sites do. somehow you look so much better though, and it feels as though you're teasing him with the way you bend over so much while cleaning. the outline of your pussy through the small fabric that stretches over it has him horny in a matter of seconds. you're such a tease, aren't you ashamed? you just can't seem to stay in line.

however, despite all your obvious sexual innuendos towards him, shigaraki gets no relief. he's resorted to jacking off whenever you go to sleep but no matter how hard or how much he cums, there's an itch that can't be scratched with masturbation alone. and the way you're so shy around him is adorable, sure, but your little playing-hard-to-get act wasn't cutting it anymore.

the remedy? incel!shigaraki starts slipping sleeping pills into your food and drinks.

and it doesn't take long for shigaraki to develop a routine of visiting you while you're sleeping. partly to check up on you and assure himself of your presence, but mostly to creep around the edges of the bed and feel you up. you sleep so soundly that you don't even twitch when he fondles your soft breasts or runs his spindly fingers over your curves.

he almost doesn't want to disturb you; you look so peaceful, totally different than the frightened little faces you muster when you're awake. but the bothersome tightness stretching his boxers taut against its stitches makes it hard to resist his urges. anyway, you're simply doing the only thing a woman is good for: using your body to please him.

his breath is hot and heavy, laced with lust and selfish perversion as he defiles you to get himself off. some nights he just sits and admires your beauty, caressing your face with clumsy, inexperienced fingertips. some nights your shirt is pulled up so he can marvel at how nicely your breasts sit in whatever color bra he forced you to wear.

other nights his cock is nestled between them, thrusting like his life depends on it, chasing that euphoric high he gets when he finally spills his seed across your hardening nipples. and other nights shigaraki is even more daring—cute pajama pants and panties below your knees, face buried between your thighs as he explores every inch of your sweet cunt. he knows it's wrong, but so what? he's a villian, that's what makes it feel so right.

when you make faces in your sleep, he's filled with so much genuine affection—it's almost as if you're telling him he's doing a good job. you love it, don't you? he so desperately wants to hear you cry his name in that precious accent of yours and run your hands through his hair as you lavish your praise upon him for making you cream so many times.

he can't keep his eyes off you. so soft and compliant. you're so pretty while he's stuffing his cock into you and relentlessly flicking your little clit, not stopping even when he feels you clench around him like a vice as you orgasm over and over. not stopping even though you're drooling all over the linen sheets and he's came twice already.

"that's right... y-you gonna cum again? you gonna—ngh—cum all over my cock, you dumb whore?"

shigaraki watches with glassy, intrigued eyes as you squirm ever so slightly, face warped into one of undeniable pleasure as he ravages your gushing pussy. you're such a good girl for him, letting him use you as he wishes.

you're the woman he's chosen to give his virginity to. he's so happy and content that when he cums inside of you for the third time, he doesn't pull out. instead, shigaraki gently maneuvers your body so he can spoon you from behind, whispering tender "i love you's" as if he knows what that means. absently grinding his hips because your warmth is so comforting around his sticky, softening dick.

as much as shigaraki wants to stay and pound you into the mattress all night, the sleeping medication doesn't last forever. not to mention the mess you've made; the sheets are completely ruined and your clothes are strewn about on the floor, long forgotten. it's hot in your room and it stinks of his cum and sweat, but it doesn't really matter. the only thing on his mind is you and how he'll ruin you again tomorrow night.

for now, though, he rewards you for being so good by cleaning you up, smirking whenever you unconsciously nuzzle up to his touch. when your clothes are back on, he plants a tender kiss on your forehead and admires your flushed face from the shadows of your bedside. when the sun begins to rise and you stir in your ignorance, he'll sneak out and act as if nothing ever happened.

incel!shigaraki who doesn't deny that you're just another stupid slutty woman, but you're the only woman he'll ever want to cum inside of. when he returns to his room, he remembers to pull up your archived listing on his computer and dazedly taps away at his keyboard.

"10/10 recommend"

[ivesambrose]

PAC : September 2024 Mini Messages

1. 2. 3.

And we're almost in fall 🍁

To book a personal reading with me DM or email me at ivesambrose@gmail.com

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Picture 1

You'll be feeling the urge to socialize or reconnect with friends and loved ones this month. Likely even connect with new people that inspire you and reignite a spark within you. It seems like as you're headed for autumn you begin to experience your personal spring. There's a lot in your mind and heart and it's been repressed there for quite some time now because you haven't found the right means to express them or the people to express them to but this: shall change. I see you wanting to maintain more balance and diplomacy in your life this month instead of extremes. In a way you've told yourself, "Hey I've done enough push and pull, let me allow things to fall in place." A lot of you might focus on regulating your nervous system, some of you might be starting therapy or just being more attentive about your mental health. Some of you might collaborate or work with others especially if you're an artist or creator of any kind. I also see a select few coming out of hiding and gaining the confidence to put themselves out there. This month will also end on a joyful note for you. You'll also be pursuing something your heart feels really called to. You'll also feel cherished and cared for, this could be from a special someone or your friends and family or the community you're proud of. You'll feel a lot less alone, you never really were.

Picture 2

Leaving all that heartache behind. Bit by bit. Holding your life by the reigns by finding the courage within. There's no need to wait for anyone to help you through this, just begin. I know certain anguishes weigh rather heavily but it doesn't have to be a permanent resident there. A lot of you are planning on moving away from a present location that hasn't been bringing you peace you'l likely end up executing it before this year ends. Sometime around this month itself you'll find yourself feeling emotionally renewed. Opportunities coming up that you had been praying for since long but you feel nervous taking up because emotional fulfillment somehow feels scary to you. Feel the fear and do it anyway. Take the plunge because it'll lead to you feeling proud and successful of yourself. I also see a peak in finances or you saving up enough to afford something that makes you really happy. If you have pets you'll be spending more time with them or even consider adopting one. You'll start finding joy in the things you used to years back. Hold onto this feeling. For some reason the song, 'Innocence' by Avril Lavigne came through for this pile as well. If you resonate deeply with music, then this song definitely has a message for you.

Picture 3

A mental breakthrough. I see you being assertive and maybe even cut throat with your goals. I also see a lot of you disciplining your mind to the maximum. Correcting any negative thought and assumption. You'll also find yourself emerging victorious no matter what situation you're facing. There's a specific turn of events and fate for you. Fall overall is a significant time for this pile. I see you embracing joy diligently, making new friends and connections and making plans with your loved ones. You have chosen to let your inner child experience everything they have been forced to let go of. Do not dim your own light this month. You were meant to shine. You were meant to stand out. Some of you might also have a significant secret admirer as well. They see you as the break of dawn after a dark and solemn night and want to pretty much make you feel the same it seems. You'll find yourself wanting to relax more and allow things to come to you. Stressing and forcing on the other hand might lead to discord and feeling burnt out. It seems as though you had been fearing the worst but there has been a pleasant change of plans for you. You will be starting a new chapter in your life, you'll be rather stubborn about it too, brainstorming quite a bit, might encounter a few conflicts here and there but nothing good team work can't solve. This will eventually lead you to the version of you that you have in mind.

[longlivedelusion]

In The Heat of the Moment

A little drabble cause my friends had a small home rave today and there was a hottie there and let's just say it gave me inspo for a Bucky smut? Not really smut. Spice? lmao.

So here we are. Not proofread, wrote this in my phone and am just posting it as is. Will maybe review later idk.

Summary: club time with the Avengers and you're a horny bih who wants Bucky, but Bucky doesn't give you the time of day. Or so you think. No use of Y/N.

Warnings: minors DNI, mentions of oral and general sexual encounters, enter at your discretion cause this is just me and my little horny ass wanting a club moment😭 No use of Y/N

Enjoy!

Masterlist

~~~~~

The music was loud where we were, I couldn't hear anything but the beat pounding as a sea of strangers swirled around me.

The team had all decided on a night out, something to take the edge off after a particularly hard mission. But being the Avengers, well... There's always someone somewhere taking photos or gawking. We couldn't just, be.

That's until a certain God of Mischief had the great idea of using his magic to disguise us. We could still see eachother as we were, but everyone else saw just a bunch of random strangers. No Captain America, no Thor, no Bucky Barnes.

So we came to one of Nat's favourite spots, an underground techno club on the industrial side of the city that was exactly what we all needed.

Dark. Loud music. Drinks. No thoughts, just our bodies, the sound and everything else in between. Whatever we needed to let off some steam.

But as much as dancing was doing wonders, my body slick with sweat as ran my hands up past my waist, body bouncing in tune with the sound, I wanted more. Needed more.

And there was only one man who I wanted to give it to me. Bucky fucking Barnes. But unfortunately, said man sat by the bar and had never really given me the time of day outside of normal mission stuff. We were great colleagues, but fuck if I didn't want him to use all that focus, all that drive he had when it came to pounding his enemies to focus it on pounding into me.

So I just danced, eyes trying and failing to not meet the corner of the bar where I knew he was. Sipping his drink as he slowly bounced to the music, Steve right beside him as they talked about something. I didn't let my eyes linger long enough to make out what they were even looking at.

So I kept dancing, closing my eyes and feeling the way the music traveled over me. Imagining it was Bucky's hands instead. Letting my breath get a little bit heavier as I did.

I suddenly felt hands at my waist, unfamiliar ones that made me turn suddenly. Some random guy had come up, a small grin on his face as he bounced along with me. I raised my brow a second, definitely not in the mood for some random guy's attention no matter how horny I . might've been. I was ready to move him aside before I felt a large presence behind me.

"Get the fuck off her." I heard Bucky say, his voice somehow just clear enough over the loudness of the club.

I saw the man retreat with his hands up, eyes wide as he saw the predatory glance towards him. While he backed up, I turned towards Bucky, already frowning. "I could've handled that you know."

He crossed his arms, his body close.

Closer than usual.

"Yeah, I'm sure. But just wanted to make sure you were alright. S'all. " He watched me, an anger in his eyes usually reserved for special moments in battle - moments with HYDRA agents.

Before he could step away, I grabbed his arm. "Wait," I said. "Stay. Dance."

He tries to protest, but I got closer to his body now, slowly bouncing to the beat as he stilled, eyes wide. "Please." I breathed out, eyes gazing up at him. I don't know if was the darkness, the aninimoty of the night, the way my body tingled at his nearness, but I was gonna try to go for it. Needed to. I couldn't just sit around pining and feeling the way I did and not do shit about it. I was an Avenger for gods sake -- I could flirt.

"Alright." I heard him say, taking me out of my trance as his hand snaked around my waist slowly, hesitantly. His touch was featherlight, like he was afraid of going too far as he matched the rhythm with me.

I started to run my fingers up his arms, curious, exploratory. To see if he was just being polite with this or if there could be something more. I felt his grip tighten just a hint before he pulled me in closer, his head against mine as his mouth grazed past my ear, his breath hot against me.

We moved like that a while, bodies shifting to the music, my hands growing bolder across his shoulders, his back, his hair. I let my head fall back as he held me, closing my eyes as I let the feeling overwhelm me. The feeling of him, the sound, the lights. All overwhelming me in the most delicious way.

I felt his movements stutter, opening my eyes again to see his own reflected back at me -- pupils blown and mouth partially opened as I watched him take me in. A hunger and desperation in his eyes that I knew well, because I knew it was reflected right back at him.

I tentatively reached for his jaw, thumbs grazing over his lips as he sucked in a breath. My logical brain decided to show up for a split second then -- I was being careless, our team was close by and his was my coworker, this was so public and stupid and-

He was leaning in. His mouth so close to mine as his eyes took me in, "Tell me to stop." He said, lips just hovering mine. Waiting. Teasing.

My mind stilled. "Please," was all I could breathe out.

The next moment I was on fire, his lips quenching a thirst I'd been settling in for the months since I'd known him. A thirst I thought would never be satiated. I'd craved, so desperately, this man for so long and in this moment, his lips on mine, I knew. I'd never want them to leave again.

I moved my body to his, pressed so deeply into him that I felt each crevice and movement of his against mine. I felt him shift, his clear arousal now pressed against my thigh. I moaned into his mouth, his tongue slipping past and grazing over mine.

I was in hell, in the most blissful, heavenly pits of hell there was because god this man could fucking kiss. And I don't think I would ever want to kiss anyone again after this. I couldn't.

His hands started to grow more confident, his touch hungry as if he could feel the fire too, like we were two torches dancing together desperate for more oxygen.

I pulled away, hands trailing down his body as I took him in. "Bucky, I need you." I practically whined. I'd never whined in my life, but right now I could care less. I needed this man, religiously.

"Fuck," his grip tightened on my body, pressing me even harder into him. "Where, how?" He started looking around, assessing the situation like this was one of our missions.

I grabbed his jaw and pulled his gaze back to me, leaning up and over to his ear. "Bathroom on the right. Follow behind me but don't make it too obvious. I'll be inside waiting for you." I pulled back just enough so I could see his face, "I'll be the one on my knees."

I heard the intake of breath before I could register what happened next. His lips crashing into mine as he groaned into my mouth, taking me rougher than before. He pulled back panting, his body looking like it was fighting a war to do so, and he gave me a long look that had me nearly buckle my knees.

"You've got 5 minutes. And you better be ready for me 'cause that mouth isn't the only thing getting worshipped tonight doll."

He pulled off, pushing me forward towards the bathroom. He stood there, arms crossed as he assessed me from behind.

God was I in for it.

Part Two

[bluehoodiewoozi]

Seventeen as fake dating scenarios

⟪‘95 + ‘96 line version⟫

other versions: ⟪‘97 + ‘98 + '99 line version⟫

SEUNGCHEOL: saving you from unwanted attention.

You weren’t entirely sure what had possessed you to come to this club that night. It’s not that you didn’t like parties. Rather, you had heard plenty of disturbing rumours about this part of town. And yet, here you were, at the bar, nervously sipping your drink while trying to keep an eye out for your friends.

“Come here often, pretty lady?” came a question from your right, along with a breath that smelled of all kinds of alcohol and freshly smoked tobacco. You willed yourself not to cringe.

“I’m not here to talk to guys like you,” you said and tried to walk away.

He caught your wrist in his hand, pulling you back. “Now, now, no need to be rude. How about I buy you a drink?”

Instead of even considering humouring him, you wondered if anyone would hear you scream over the booming volume of the music. Luckily, you wouldn’t have to.

Your wrist was pulled free from his grasp at a moment’s notice. A broad-shouldered man stood between you and the guy, towering over his seated form, practically oozing with annoyance. “How about you stop hitting on my girl?”

Hold on. Your eyes widened.

He turned to you and offered his hand, smiling kindly before sending you a conspiratory wink. “Let’s go, darling. You said you’d save me a dance before we went home.”

You breathed out, trying your best to not alert the other – possibly much worse – guy. “Right. Let’s go.”

As he led you towards the dance floor, his hand hold yours ever so gently, he told you, “I’m sorry for doing that. You must be scared. I just worried he’d do something to you if I didn’t intervene.”

He seemed nice and attractive enough, you decided after a moment of thought. “Alright. I demand a dance as an apology.”

JEONGHAN: swindling your way through a stupid bet

“Listen, if you do me this favour, I’ll split the money with you, 50/50.”

You should’ve never taken that offer. Not from Yoon Jeonghan. It was taking every ounce of your self-control to not slap his hand every time it came to rest on your waist. You despised this man and everything he did and said and thought. Was 100 bucks worth it?

“Are you guys going to the festival this weekend?” Mingyu wondered, eyeing you two suspiciously. As your best friend, he was more than sceptical and you couldn’t even blame him.

“Of course! My darling is so excited to go see BTOB live. Right, my darling?”

A pinch at your waist reminded you to smile a little nicer and when you turned to “smile” at Jeonghan, you glared at him instead, warning him silently. Two could play that game. Through gritted teeth, you spoke, “Of course. I can’t wait. I hope they perform our song.”

“Our song?”

“Your song?” Mingyu blinked. “You guys have a song? What is it?”

You smiled as innocently as you could, daring Jeonghan to pull you into his shenanigans again. “Yeah, what song is it, my love?”

You were sure every person within a mile of you could hear the gears turning in Jeonghan’s head as he tried to think of a song? “Right. Our song.”

Mingyu’s eyebrows rose in suspicion. “That being?”

Jeonghan relaxed back into his seat. “Of course it’s Movie. (Y/n) and I love to dance to that song. It was our first dance.”

“That’s not a particularly cute song.” Mingyu’s suspicions were rising. 

You reminded yourself that there was 100 bucks on the line and said, “Well, we’re not a particularly cutesy couple. I think Movie suits us: it’s fun!”

“Right! And we always—“ you could feel Jeonghan’s venomous glare as he spoke, “–have so much fun.”

JOSHUA: fake proposal for free dessert

“Do you think they offer free dessert for proposals?”

Joshua caught on quickly, already reaching into his pocket. “Supposedly. Or so I’ve read from about a hundred online reviews. Do you want to or shall I?”

“Rock, paper, scissors?” you suggested and he agreed. A quick game determined that you were the winner.

Joshua sighed and let out a soft whine. “But I’m wearing my good pants.”

“Don’t you dare slack,” you warned him. “I expect a proper proposal, one knee and all.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine, but the dessert better be good. And!” He lifted a finger to point it at you almost accusingly. “If you even try to do the “but what about your wife and kids” thing again, I will make sure you'll live to regret it.”

“Oh, come on!” You laughed. “It was one time and I agreed eventually, did I not?”

“Yeah, after embarrassing me.”

“But the waiter gave you even more dessert for your embarrassment,” you pointed out. “So if anything, you kind of owe me.”

“This is the last time I do this with you. Only because I doubt anyone would ever propose to you in any other context.”

“Oh, ouch. Just break my heart while you’re at it.”

JUNHUI: partnering up for amusement park rides

“I’m just saying, you’re lonely, I’m lonely, most rides require people to pair up. I don’t know about you, but I’d prefer not to pair up with a complete stranger for every ride.”

He contemplated. “… I hate that you’re kind of right.”

“Okay, perfect. So we’re best friends, going to rides together. Cool?”

“Cool.”

It was not cool. While waiting in line for the newest roller coaster, a sweet middle-aged lady with her daughter tapped on your shoulder to ask you, “You guys are just adorable! How long have you guys been a couple?”

“We’re not—”

"It’s our anniversary today,” Junhui piped up before you could finish your sentence. Your brain completely froze like a 2002 Dell laptop trying to run Minecraft.

Your lack of reaction didn’t stop him. His arm wrapped around you snuggly as he made up an elaborate back-story about how you met while volunteering at a cat shelter and how he asked you out and how he had asked you to move in this morning – none of which was even remotely close to a truth.

“Why would you make all that up?” you asked him as the ride was about to start. “Are you insane?”

He grimaced. “I panicked! Besides – it got us a ride ticket for free, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, because the staff think we’re celebrating our anniversary.”

“Then complain less and remember your back-story. Who knows what other discounts we could get if we keep this up.”

It was then that you realised that you had created a monster.

SOONYOUNG: fake dating to avoid an arranged marriage

“Your Highness, you can’t keep dodging marriage proposals like this. I doubt your parents care that you’re ‘dating’–” he drew air quotes around the word “–the royal pet caretaker.”

“Well, it seems to be working well enough,” you pointed out and affectionately rested your chin against his shoulder as your mother – the queen – passed by the opened doors of the room. You glared after her. “I don’t understand why they want me to marry so bad. It’s not like I’m heir to the throne.”

“And you never will be if you keep acting like we’re an item.”

“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it, Soonyoung,” you scolded him playfully and poked his puffed out cheeks.

“I never said I didn’t.”

“Yeah?” You smiled. “You must love all the perks of dating royalty without actually dating royalty.”

He laughed. “Well, I can’t say no to getting an extra dessert after dinner.”

“There’s my boy.” You hummed in thought. “Should we step it up a bit? For more perks for you and less pressure for me?”

“What do you have in mind, Your Highness?”

“First, stop calling me Your Highness,” he grimaced at the idea, “and second, we have to show them we’re serious about this. We have to step up our game.”

“What exactly do you have in mind, princess?”

You smirked just as you heard your mother’s voice coming closer again. “Kiss me.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice – whether it was out of his own free will or because this was a royal order, you would never know.

WONWOO: a cover story for an investigation

“I just don’t think that’s right,” Wonwoo said while staring at the board, his brows furrowed in concentration. “What would be her motive?”

“I don’t know. Money?” you suggested between flipping through the pages of the report you'd been sent. “Maybe she was jealous of her husband’s daughter from the previous marriage and—”

The doorbell rang.

“Please be the pizza guy,” you whispered under you breath but hid the report regardless and rushed to the door. You could never be too careful in this line of work.

Instead, Mrs Yoon – the very woman you had been discussing – smiled at you at the door. “Hi, dear! I just came to check on you; I feel like I haven’t seen you all day!”

You forced on a smile. “Wonwoo and I have just been so busy thinking about how to decorate the house – make it more our own, you know?”

“Oh right! Is your darling husband home too? I wasn’t interrupting, was I?” She winked and you didn’t like the implications behind that. She then leaned over to whisper slyly, “Who knows, maybe you’ll need to decorate a nursery soon.”

You gulped. “Oh, not yet, surely. We’re still—We haven’t even—”

“Darling, who is it?” Wonwoo’s voice sounded like the that of an angel coming to save you from this awkward situation. You breathed out in relief as he added, “Can you come help me move this cupboard?”

“Well,” you smiled apologetically, “it sounds like I’m needed. I’d love to catch up tomorrow though!”

“I’ll see you then, sweetheart!” She left with another wink. You could not have closed the door faster.

“She isn’t catching onto us, is she?” Wonwoo wondered when you returned to him.

You slumped into the sofa. “Nope. If anything, she’s buying our cover a little too well.”

JIHOON: fake dating because he lied to his friends

“I still can’t believe you posted an advertisement for a fake girlfriend,” you mused as you watched him working out.

He scoffed. “I still can’t believe you actually responded to it. What if I was a creep?”

“Fair point.” Not that you’d ever admit that you only responded to the ad because you recognised his name and phone number because you had been harbouring a crush on him this entire year. He never had to know. “So, why are we at the gym? Who are we meeting here?”

“Literally all of my friends that matter. So… I don’t know. How does the whole fake dating thing work?”

“Why are you asking me? You’re the boss.”

“I don’t know. I assumed that because you answered the ad, you must have some experience.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence, but unfortunately, I do not have any experience. I’ll do whatever you need me to. Well—” You paused, ears burning all of a sudden. “Not everything everything. Like, I have boundaries but—”

“Ay-yo, Jihoon!” Soonyoung’s familiar voice filled the gym. “Are you ready to get absolutely shredded and—Oh.” The previously loud tiger turned into a shy hamster. “Hi. Who are you?”

“That’s (Y/n),” Jihoon introduced with a smile that just naturally screamed confidence, “my girlfriend. The one I told you about.”

Soonyoung’s jaw dropped. “Wait, you were serious?! You have a girlfriend?!” He turned to you. “Are you really his girlfriend?”

Jihoon rolled his eyes, earning a short laugh from you. He then walked over and rested his hand on your shoulder, leaning over to kiss your temple. “Baby, meet Soonyoung. He doesn’t get any less annoying than that.”

NOTE: i wrote these as an attempt to get rid of the stupid writer's block i've been dealing with all month lol

[vivwritesfics]

hiii!!! if you can can you please make a fanfic like (sorry for my bad explaining) basically a fluff fic with oscar piastri and y/n where they meet at like the streets of paris or something romantic like that? (you can give it any ending you want lols)

one of my best friends is from paris and we talk about how it's not the romantic place we all fantasize it to be. but i got you boo

Paris, France:

The hotel was awful, just awful. But that was what she got she got for booking her holiday on a budget.

The bed must have had bedbugs. She saw one review online (after she had checked in) that suggested it. And, ever since, she could feel the little fuckers crawling all over her skin.

If the bathroom wasn't down the hall, she would have been throwing up from anxiety. But, instead, she shut her eyes and tried to fall asleep.

And then her neighbours started shagging. Like, bed hitting the wall behind her kind of shagging. Holy shit, she needed to get out of here.

Grabbing her jacket and placing her valuables into her pockets, she headed out of the hotel.

The streets of Paris were a little bit terrifying in the dark. If one of her friends had just done with her, they could have gotten a nicer hotel and she wouldn't have been terrified to walk the streets in the dark. She shouldn't have been out there, she knew, but it was either have a panic attack on the disgusting floor of the hotel room or get out for some fresh air.

It was like there were eyes on her all the time she was walking. She pulled her jacket closer to her body and walked a little faster. Her eyes were trained on the floor as she pretty much marched down the streets of Paris.

Her body collided with somebody else. "Shit," she cried as this persons arms wrapped around her, stopping her from falling.

"Are you okay?" He asked, voice not accompanied by a French accent. "Sorry, I should have been looking at where I was going." He shook his head, floppy, Prince-Charming-from-Shrek hair falling in front of his face.

"It's okay," she said, tightening her grip on the things in her pocket.

He released her. "I'm Oscar," he said, holding out his hand.

She didn't take it, but she did smile at him. "Nice to meet you, Oscar," she replied, not giving her own name.

It was almost like a game, on the streets of Paris. Oscar twisted his wrist and looked at his watch. "Where are you headed? Do you need me to walk you there?"

The red flag in the back of her head was taking a long ass time to raise. "I'm good," she said, because he was still a stranger on the streets of Paris. She began to walk past him. "It really was nice to meet you, Oscar," she said and began walking again.

Santorini, Greece:

The view from her balcony was so fucking pretty. The glittering ocean, the pale sand, the gorgeous architecture. It was a far cry from Paris.

Even on a budget she'd managed somewhere nice. A lot nicer than that hotel room in Paris. Here she felt safe. She left her valuable things in her hotel room (in the safe) and went out to dinner.

It was so damn peaceful. This was the getaway she needed, not those few nights in Paris. This was fucking bliss.

But then he showed up. She was in a little beach front restaurant, having a drink when he came walking past. What did he say his name was? Oscar? What the hell was he doing in Greece?

Her initial reaction was to think he had been followed. But the way he was looking at her, all confused before that look of familiarity crossed his face, it was all so genuine.

"Are you following me?" He asked it in such a teasing way, she immediately knew he wasn't serious.

She kicked out the chair in front of her. "Come have a drink with me, Oscar."

He obeyed and sat himself in the seat opposite her. Almost immediately a waiter came over to take his drink order. As soon as the waiter was gone, she was staring at him. "So, tell me about yourself, Oscar."

"Aren't you gonna tell me your name?" He asked as she sipped her drink.

She thought about it for a moment. "Tell you what, tell me about yourself, and I'll tell you my name."

He held out his hand, and this time she took it. "Deal."

Italy:

Italy had never been on her list of destinations. She didn't understand why not, because it was gorgeous.

But seeing the sights was such a small part of it. She walked behind Oscar, Oscar Piastri the Formula One driver, as he led her through the paddock.

"This can't be real," she said for the fourteenth time since they'd climbed out of the car.

Oscar laughed at her. "It's real," he assured her as he took her to the McLaren garage. He stopped for a second and gave her a minute to step closer and take his hand.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me you were a race car driver," she said as she squeezed his hand. It wasn't a comforting squeeze, but it had Oscar laughing, again.

"I did," he insisted.

"Yeah, after we'd had four cocktails!"

He led her through the garage, to his drivers room. "Okay, okay. How can I make it up to you?"

He shut the door behind him and she stepped closer. "Hmm," she said and pushed his hair out of his face. "Take me back to Paris?"

"Paris?"

She hummed.

"Okay," he answered, still holding her hand. "I'll take you back to Paris."

[girlokwhatever]

ʚɞ✧˖ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- end of beginning,, pt.2

part one

emily engstler x fem!ex!reader

you got ready in record time. the combination of your nerves and excitement together spurred you into a frenzy, encouraging you to bounce around your hotel room like you were being rushed.

emily said she’d pick you up soon, causing you to hurriedly make the finishing touches on your look tonight. there was that feeling still, deep down, that you wanted desperately to impress her.

the shared conversation you had echoed in your mind the moment the two of you departed. she asked you out to dinner. your mind teetered on the line between two ideas: she wanted closure so you two could be teammates without your history getting in the way, or, maybe she hasn’t moved on.

you think in some ways you have, but was that even true? if emily came to you with a confession of love that she never let go of, what would you do?

there wasn’t time to ponder the thought because your phone dinged. it was a simple message from emily telling you she’s here. ‘waiting for you outside’ she said, simple but enough to make your heart beat faster. you gathered your essentials and left the ghost-like hotel room to meet emily outside.

when you caught sight of her, leaning against her car, hands buried deep in her pockets and ankles crossed, you knew you were done for. she looked so beautiful, no less than you remember.

“hey, sorry, i know i’m a bit early.”

“it’s all good, i was ready anyway.”

she eyes you up and down, smiling to herself because she recognizes the bracelet you’re wearing. it’s one of the many she bought for you during your relationship. a token of her love for you.

“i was thinking we could get some hibachi, your hotel is kinda close.”

you nod, affirming it’s a pleasant choice. the car ride there is filled with simple conversation. you realize it’s the kind of conversation you’d have with someone you barely know, but then again, it’s been two years since you’ve seen emily.

she is different. but so are you.

“okay i’m gonna warn you, i’ve heard mixed reviews about this place.”

the two of you had been seated almost ten minutes ago and still haven’t been given drinks. you didn’t mind much but you could tell by her bouncing leg that emily was losing patience.

“and you didn’t feel like that was worth mentioning earlier?”

“well i remember you like hibachi and this is the only place i know of that serves it.”

she’s giving you a playful shrug as her fingers toy with the lanyard attached to her keys. you can’t help but let your eyes linger, watching her facial features shift slightly when she breaks eye contact or noticing the almost invisible shake in her hands. she seems much more reserved, a lot quieter than you know her to be.

“hey do you remember that time,” she smiles as she pauses to collect her thoughts, “when we got hibachi and the guy accidentally burnt you with the shrimp?”

“oh my god- yes. i still, to this day, have no clue how he managed to flip it on me instead of the stove.”

“dude that was classic. i mean, unfortunate for you but definitely funny.”

emily leans back against the wooden chair, relaxing into the seat. she was looking at you again and still smiling at the contagious happy memory. it was a popular story to tell during your relationship.

“yeah okay, but when i mention that time in the park when you fell on your face it’s not funny?”

“no. you threw the ball way too high. i don’t even know how you threw the football like that.”

“from practicing when we went to the beach that one time, remember? we’d throw the ball on the beach at night.”

all the recounts of priceless stories never to be forgotten makes your chest swell with fondness. to see the way emily smiles when talking about them warms your heart even more because she’s genuinely happy and you sense no resentment in her tone. she’s appreciative of the time she got to spend with you, even if it was short-lived.

“i don’t think i could ever forget that. it was the best vacation of my life for sure. it was so good, school had kinda been stressing me out and all so i was just happy to get away with you. i remember our first night there you wore that really pretty dress, the white one, and you asked me to take pictures of you at sunset but it was so windy and you kept getting mad. oh my gosh you were so mad. i still have the one picture where you’re pulling that piece of hair out of your mouth and you got so upset because i took the picture and sent it to myself. but you looked so beautiful anyway, it was good.”

you don’t say anything, too shocked to properly collect yourself. though you knew ex’s could be friends, you weren’t aware it was like this. you’re in awe of her really, feeling your cheeks grow warm at her compliments of your beauty.

your eyes stay trained on emily but she’s looking straight ahead at the wall, rummaging through all her memories containing you. you’re all she can think about in this moment and she’s not aware how obvious that simple fact is. she was too lost in thought, too busy missing her past to realize her word vomit.

“i remember too how an ocean wave knocked you over and you got a bunch of sand in your hair,” she leans back further, trying to submerge herself in the memory. “and i had to help you wash it out that night cause your arms were tired. then for the rest of the week you made me go in the ocean with you every time so i could help hold you up, i think i can still feel how tight you’d grip me when a wave came. and we’d always get burnt cause we’d float together for ages. but i didn’t even care because i was just happy to be there with you. nothing else mattered to me.”

the intensity of her words finally dawn on emily, immediately stiffening and clearing her throat. the air between you is thick and her confession weighs in the space between. you have no idea how to react or what you could possibly say to her, but you don’t have to because someone is finally asking what you want to drink.

the rest of dinner was tense with very few shared words. every now and then emily would comment on the quality of the food and you’d say nothing in return.

what could you say?

the ride back to your hotel was even worse. the soft hum of the radio and an occasional road bump was the only noise to fill your space. your eyes stayed glued on the sunset out the window the entire time, trying to remember how you ended up in this situation.

you thought back on everything. from the moment emily asked you to be her girlfriend, the moment you broke up with her, to earlier in the night when she asked you out to dinner. anecdotes of your shared past with her flooded your mind and refused to leave. it wasn’t until she parked at your hotel that they drained, leaving you with a teary waterline and regrets of past decisions. and current ones.

“thanks for taking me out tonight.”

“yeah, no problem.” silence lingered as you climbed out of her passenger seat but once you were about to shut the door she spoke up again, “i’m sorry.”

but it was too late and she wasn’t even sure if you heard her because you just kept walking. shaky breaths and silence consumed the walk back to your room, nothing in your mind but blame on yourself.

you should’ve said something, acknowledged her admission and reciprocated it. instead you sat there silently and visibly watched her shrink in on herself.

you were a coward.

you were a coward back then when you broke up with her, not able to face the uncertainty change would bring. it had only gotten worse. you realized that maybe some things don’t ever change.

the harsh opinion you harbored for yourself only made you feel worse. once you reached your room the tears began to fall one by one down your face, a pent-up sob escaping you from your spot on the bed.

emily was still parked outside, watching the time pass by. with each minute she debated on going inside, straight to your room. she wasn’t entirely sure what she’d do or say when she got there, but she just wanted to see you again.

it had been thirteen minutes since you left. thirteen minutes since she saw you. thirteen minutes since the opportunity to win you over again had passed. thirteen minutes sitting in silence waiting for you to text her something, anything. but you never did.

she couldn’t leave knowing she didn’t try.

so she didn’t. she remembered seeing your key card, your floor and room written across it in bold lettering. that’s where she found herself now, standing on your floor gathering the courage to just knock.

finally she did, hearing you shuffle on the other side of the door. she could swear a drop of sweat was dripping down her forehead, bringing the back of her hand up to wipe at it.

“emily?”

“can i talk to you?” she was going to throw up, she was going to throw up, “please?”

“yeah.. are you okay?”

“are you?” emily looks at your face, makeup disrupted by wet streaks and eyes slightly red, red enough to be noticed. her tone came out harsher than she meant it to, pushing her way into the cold room. you don’t answer, instead busying yourself with shutting the door and turning the lights on.

“can i sit down?”

“go for it.”

she props herself up on the end of your bed, hands resting on her bouncing knees as you approach. you lean against the wall a few feet away as she begins to speak.

“i’m sorry for dinner, if it made you feel weird or anything. i think i should tell you, just get it out of the way, that i still think about you. all the time. and, like, i miss you. i know we’ve both probably changed and we’re different people now, i get it. but nothing, nothing, amounts to the way i felt with you. when i saw you today i felt like old me again. i want nothing more than to be like that again.” emily catches her breath, the jumbled confession coming so suddenly. “i went back to louisville last summer, just to see jeff and stuff. being there reminded me of you. i felt better there because i felt like part of you was there with me.”

she looks at you expectantly, waiting for some type of reaction. you just stare at her with an unreadable expression, tears dipping at the corners of your mouth and you bring a gentle hand up to wipe them away.

“do you ever..” she buries her head in her hands, dragging them down her face, “do you ever feel that way? tell me you don’t and i’ll leave if you want me to. i just have to know so that i can move on with my life.”

“emily..”

“it’s okay” she whispers, “it’ll be fine.”

she stands, tucking her flyaways behind her ear. your eyes connect with a silent message as you try to find the right words. you turn your head away from her direction because you feel like she’s peering into you, dissecting every thought and tearing you apart to find what she wants.

“i think about you all the time.”

it’s short but effective. emily’s heart skips a beat and so does yours, the gap between your bodies lessening.

“getting on the court with you again was so amazing and for that reason alone i’m happy to be here. i left louisville because i couldn’t do it without you. and i spent, oh my god, so many nights regretting my decision. i miss you emily. i’ve missed you for two years.”

neither of you have any words left as she surges toward you, pulling your body into hers. your lips meet in a passionate kiss to make up for lost time, finding peace within one another. emily holds the back of your head to press you as close as possible because she fears you’ll slip away again if she doesn’t. she finally has you back, nothing is taking that away from her.

you’re the first to pull away, placing your forehead against her own. your noses rest side by side, lips touching and fingers tangled in hair as you both pant from loss of breath. you’re so relieved that you’re almost convinced it can’t be real.

there’s no negative feelings plaguing either of you anymore, finally feeling complete.

the rest of the night is spent with tangled limbs and gentle kisses to pass the time. she never leaves your embrace and you don’t leave hers, feeling content right where you are.

you can finally wave goodbye to the end of your beginning with emily, ready to move into the next chapter with her.

ʚɞ✧˖ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

thank you @astroph1les for literally giving me all the motivation to do this

i hope no one forgot about pt.1 i know it’s been a minute 😬😬😬🤗

not spell checked yet but it will be later!!

pls enjoy!!!!!!!