#i got a new shirt from the thrift shop

[indigogirled]

[nichoskittycorner]

So... a random drabble thing I wrote. Like you know that trope about adopting a pet and it shifts into a hot person? Yeah it's like that except it's a werewolf and a wolf plush. This isnt complete and only like a lil nsfw but yeah-

Oh yeah its like gn! reader x Male werewolf-

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Imagine going to a thrift shop looking for supplies for a project and see the cutest littlw wolf plushie you've ever seen- You just had to have it! It had black soft fluff, little golden eyes and even felt warm to hug. Hey, things were already cheap here- why not treat yourself with this?

So you took the little plush home. Happy with your new friend, you set it on your bed and continued to set up for the project. Once you got started, you felt lonely. Reaching over without thinking and holding the plush in your lap. Squeezing and cuddling them as you worked.

Tine flew by as you worked- eventually yawning and pushing the supplies aside. Taking the plush with you as you ate, cleaned up and got ready for bed.

As you laid in bed, you looked into your new friend's eyes and brainstormed some names. "Hm, what about something cute? You are cute afterall." With a half asleep brain, you settled on the first thing you thought of- giggling before falling asleep.

The next few weeks went by as normal. Well that and you almost always had 'Muffin' with you. You really didnt know why but they were good company. Sure the toy never answered you but their pretty golden eyes seemed to twinkle as you spoke and when you cuddled with them. As if a soul was really in there...

Plus that warmth you got from them always made you feel good, like you were hugging something alive. It became a habit to kiss their snout Goodnight and pet the soft fur covering their body. Telling them any and everything on your heart without restraint.

'It was just a doll, right?'-

It's what you had to tell yourself as you found yourself in a predicament. Horny but too lazy to get out of bed to do anything about it. So as you snuggled into Muffin, you started grinding your hips into the plush to get off.

This would have to be something you never told anyone- your body burned hot as you got the much desired friction you craved. Your underwear quickly turning into a soaking and cum filled mess as you got more bold over the long hours of the night.

Peeling your underwear off and rubbing your bare self against the doll that was bringing you such pleasure. It didnt surprise you that you had climaxed several times- leaving your precious plushie covered in your fluids. The streaks standing out greatly in compared to the black fur.

You wouldve been embarrassed but your mind was already floating. This was a problem for the you of tomorrow. So with a satisfied body and brain, you hugged Muffin close, still covered in your mess and fell asleep.

The next morning you were confused and scared by your predicament- your vision was blacked out and you could barely breath. Panic instantly took over as you pushed and clawed at the darkness to get free.

A low growling was heard as you managed to shuffle free. Gasping for air once your face was out of the darkness. It took a little more effort to finally get out of bed and check the scene before you.

Covering about 75% of your bed space was a giant mass of deep black fur, rising and falling very steadily. Whatever this thing was, it was sleeping peacefully despite nearly suffocating you.

As you assessed the situation, the mass woke up and took on more distinct features. Pointy ears, a long snout and sharp but sleepy golden eyes. Was that... a wolf in your bed?!

You wanted to run but was scared frozen. If you tried to run from said wolf it's very likely it would give chase. As you stepped back slowly, the creature seemed excited to see you.

A long tail thumping against your sheets and their eyes sparkled. Lazily crawling out of bed, standing on two legs as they approached you. Using their mouth to pick you up by the shirt like a small kitten and carried you back to bed.

Wrapping around you and trapping you in their embrace. Large clawed hands roaming under your shirt and all over your body. Growling in content as they buried their nose into your neck.

"W-whats going on...?"

The fluffy wolf mass mumbled and licked your neck, making you shiver all over. "Its me human... The curse is broken."

Curse? Now that was bizarre. Plus it still didnt give you much information. "What curse, and who are you?"

The wolf... werewolf(?) wagged their tail, their response shaking your whole mind up. "Muffin! At least, that's what you named me-"

You nearly choked on your own spit. Muffin?! Your little plushie? No way-

As you questioned the wolf still holding and snuggling you, it all started to make sense. 'Muffin' explained that he had accidentally gotten separated from his pack at some point and cursed by a spiteful witch.

Transformed into a useless plush toy and circulated around house and home with no control of his actions. It was miserable and terrifying. That was until he met you.

You took him home and took good care of him. He was sure your instant connection meant he was your mate but he couldnt be sure as a doll. But now he was, and he wanted you badly.

A part of you was still confused. Werewolves, witches and curses werent unheard of but were extremely rare in these parts. And how did you of all people break such a curse?

As you pondered these thoughts out loud, he nodded and continued to fondle your body, pressing kisses against your neck and shoulder and peeling off the rest of your clothing.

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Part 2

[wheels-of-despair]

The Best $7 Eddie Munson Ever Spent Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: In the fall of 1983, Eddie bought something he thought was cool… but he didn't realize how important it was until a year later. Contains: Uncle Wayne, shopping, time-jumping, snuggles, a little bit of Eddie and Evil Woman's early days. Words: 1.3k

The best $7 Eddie Munson ever spent was at a thrift store just outside of Hawkins, Indiana, in the fall of 1983.

But he didn't know it until a year later.

The night before his Uncle Wayne disappeared for Thanksgiving - the man had worked overtime on every holiday he could, since he'd determined that Eddie could take care of himself - he slapped $40 on the kitchen table between their TV dinners.

"Wha'sis for?" Eddie asked through a mouthful of noodles.

"Don't talk with your mouth full."

Eddie swallowed and repeated, "What's this for?"

"Sales everywhere on Friday. Go get yourself a new coat, it's supposed to be a bad winter. And a pair of gloves that still has the damn fingers in them. Looks like I'm raisin' a hobo."

"Does not," Eddie mumbled as he swirled his fork around the pasta in his bowl. He liked his old coat… even though it was faded. And coming apart at the seams in a few places. And the cuffs were so frayed, every time he tried putting it on, his fingers got caught in the threads. And there was that hole from when he'd gotten caught on a chain-link fence during a high-speed getaway. But he'd patched it! And the gloves he'd cut the fingers out of were cool!

Wayne looked up from the piece of bread he was buttering to give his nephew a pointed stare.

"Fine," Eddie gave in. "Thanks, Uncle Wayne."

"Yeah, yeah." The old man's eyes twinkled as he waved off his nephew's thanks and took another bite.

Being a practical and frugal-minded teen, Eddie started the search for a coat at his favorite thrift store.

"Hey, kid," greeted George, the store's owner, who barely looked up from the battered Tupperware he was sticking price tags on. "Just got a pile of 8-tracks, haven't even priced 'em yet, you interested?"

"Business before pleasure," Eddie grinned at the gray-haired man. "I come seeking winter-wear."

"Winter-wear, huh? Good call. Heard it's gonna be a rough one."

"Yeah, that's what my uncle said, too," Eddie nodded.

"Check the back wall, might be somethin' back there that'll fit ya."

"Thanks!" Eddie carefully treaded through the crowded aisles of discarded treasures and found the wall of outerwear. He flipped through cheap plastic hangers holding neon windbreakers, matted fake fur, and load of crunchy raincoats that reeked of cheaper cigarettes than his. And then… he found it.

It was long, and black, and it was way too big for him.

But when he put it on and turned around, it swished around his calves and made him feel like a vampire in a cloak.

Eddie walked to the grubby mirror leaned up against the wall and checked himself out. It was whole. Almost new, even. It was warm, and he could easily fit it on over the lighter leather jacket and battle vest he wore year-round. He lifted his arms out, and the fabric rippled to his sides. He reached for the edges and pulled them away from his body, holding them out to see just how big the coat was.

It made him look like a bat.

He lifted the paper price tag attached to a button-hole by a string.

$10? Sold.

He twirled in the mirror, watching the fabric rustle and sway around him like a creature of the night. He held up an arm to cover his mouth, like he was hiding his fangs. Yep. This is it. This is the one.

He took it off and draped it over his shoulder, deciding to see if any cool t-shirts had arrived since last he'd looked. He sorted through the rack quickly. Nothing new, but you can't win 'em all.

Eddie returned to the front with the coat, and George laughed when he spotted it. "Kid, I could fit five of you in that thing."

"I like it," Eddie grinned. "It's roomy. How 'bout those 8-tracks?"

George heaved the box full of newly acquired 8-tracks onto the counter so Eddie could dig through them. It was mostly show tunes and Christmas music, but he enjoyed the hunt nonetheless.

"Nothin'?" George asked when Eddie looked up.

Eddie shook his head. "A Partridge Family Christmas isn't really my style."

George laughed and scribbled ".50 each" on the flap of the cardboard box. "Will you find a spot for that in the front window?"

"Yessir." Eddie picked up the hefty box and walked it to the front of the store. He moved some creepy dolls and nudged a red tricycle aside to make room, placed the box down with the price facing the window, and returned to the counter.

"Just the coat, then?"

"Yessir."

"$7."

"$7?" Doesn't the tag say $10?

"That thing takes up too much room. I can fit four more in its place."

Eddie grinned and passed his cash to the man behind the counter.

"I'd ask if you want a bag, but I don't think I have any I could fit that monstrosity in," George teased as he handed Eddie his change.

"Thanks, George," Eddie laughed and collected his coat. "See ya soon."

"Stay warm, kid."

The morning Wayne came home from his long and tiring holiday stretch, he found far more change than he'd expected on the table, two pairs of new gloves… and a hulking mass of black draped over the back of a chair.

Wayne picked up the coat and held it out in front of him, marveling at its size. Well, it was warm, didn't have any holes in it, and clearly hadn't cost an arm and a leg. He folded it and put it back where he found it, spotting a note underneath the cash.

"Coat was $7. It'll come in handy when I finally become a vampire."

Wayne snorted.

"Gloves were buy one, get one free. I can show you how to cut the fingers out of yours if you want to look as cool as me."

He rolled his eyes at the boy snoring down the hall, put down the note, and started getting ready for bed.

"Why is it so fucking cold? I'm freezing my balls off."

Eddie raised an eyebrow at his girlfriend of three months in the Hawkins High parking lot. Most of the sensible students went on inside when it was this cold, but his girl - who hated this place as much as he did - decided to stick it out with him outside until the bell rang and forced them in.

"Shut up, you know what I mean." Her eyes rolled and her teeth chattered.

He checked his watch - seven minutes before the bell - and took one last drag off his cigarette. He exhaled as he dropped the butt on the ground and put it out with a twist of his boot.

"Wanna go in?"

She shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself. Stubborn.

"C'mere, then." Eddie unbuttoned the massive black coat he'd bought the year before - now decorated with band buttons on the lapels - and held it open to her. Now it was her turn to raise an eyebrow. "Come on," he urged.

She looked at him suspiciously. Shit, was this weird? Was inviting your girl into a coat cocoon more of a six-month thing? And then she walked into him. He wrapped his arms and his coat around them both and felt her relax against him almost instantly. She slowly slid her arms around his middle and rested her head in the crook of his neck. Oh god, oh god, did she just nuzzle her cheek into him?!?

Eddie was glad she couldn't see the grin on his face. He tilted his head down and let his hair fall around his face so no one else could see it either. He leaned his cheek against her head and inhaled the scent of her, closing his eyes and wishing the bell would never ring so they could stay just like this forever.

What had George said the day he bought this coat? That he could fit five people in there?

Eddie was quite happy with just two.

[adawngswife]

dating sean diaz hcs pt 2

- before esteban fixed up a car for sean, u guys would always take the public bus around seattle

- his favorite dates r the ones where u guys go into random small stores and thrift shops

- both of u guys cackle REALLY LOUD at tacky shirts with stupid sayings and get looks from people 😭

- ur fav thing is to go “i found something ud like” and watch sean look up from the racks in excitement to see an overly patriotic shirt that says “don’t touch my truck”

- his face drops into a frown and he picks out something 10x uglier and say it looks like something ud wear

- sean secretly buys what u say is cute but u cant afford bc thrifting is so expensive for no reason these days

- “guess what i got” and he slithers it out of his bag with an evil smile 😭 suddenly him dissing u for an hour straight doesnt even matter anymore

- once esteban texts sean for dinner u guys hop on the bus back home. he never asks sean to come home for dinner alone though! common courtesy to invite the gf

- sharing wired earbuds on the bus ride home always. sean plays little love songs bc he only listens to music that he relates to in that specific moment 😭 corny but cute. he def has songs in his head that he thinks are ur guys’ songs and plays them every chance he gets

- when u first started eating with the diaz family it was so painfully awkward

- though he kind of likes it now, he did not want his girlfriend to get to know esteban or daniel too well LMAO he didnt want to be embarrassed by anything they possibly could say

- still, even when he tried so hard to avoid it, daniel and esteban still found their ways

- estebans the kind of dad to bring up embarrassing stories about sean when he was a kid bc he KNOWS how much his son would hate it

- “y’know (y/n), im surprised seanie boy over here even managed to get a girlfriend in the first place”

- “why is that, mr. diaz?”

- “i remember he thought girls couldn’t poop until he was in middle school! i had to break the news for him—he was in denial for weeks. his voice was shaking when i told him and everything!” u can see sean pause mid-chew in the corner of his eye 😭 “and please, call me esteban”

- you just awkwardly nodded and tried to not bust out laughing. sean notices and kicks u under the table which makes u ACTUALLY bust out laughing

- esteban and daniel knew from there u were one to be trusted

- “i bet (y/n) doesn’t poop” daniel randomly said when u left that night. seans immediately swiveled his head around 😭

- just like with lyla, daniel seemed to have a crush on u as well. the only difference is that sean tries to shut it down REALLY quick.

- “she shits all the time. sometimes i wipe her ass for her bc she shits so much”

- daniel’s “eww…” is like music to his ears

- u always playfully punch him when he does this in front of u and ask why he makes u look bad in front of him

- sean never admits its bc hes jealous of a little kid 😭 he just changes the subject and kisses u bc he thinks hes sneaky

- over the summer he randomly got a buzz and didnt say anything to anybody

- he just opened his front door standing there bald as if nothing happened and ur eyes wld just kind of widen

- u wld eventually tell him it looks good tho bc it DOES he pulls it off so well

- that summer u wld always randomly start feeling his head because the texture is so interesting

- it got to the point where hed just sit on the floor in front of wherever u were so ud get to feel his freshly mowed head

- he always ends up dozing off bc its so comforting and u wld feel his head pressed on ur inner leg.

- u also get the privilege of cutting/buzzing his hair 😋

- sean doesnt trust himself so u guys sit for 40 mins watching a brad mondo video before u start going ape on his hair

- he gets kind of nervous when u get close to his face and does that thing where u switch between a persons right eye and left eye while smiling awkwardly 😭

- surprisingly it turns out good!

- i feel like ud be super nit-picky on ur work, thinking its total ass. he wld just say its perfect over and over again

- he always stares at any reflective surface and smiles like a dork in front of it. even if u did do a shit job, he probably wouldnt notice or care all that much bc he loves blindly ❤️

im on winter break so i get to be cringe and free for endless hours thank u to like the 3 other people who also like sean diaz. u r all real ones

[garb-rage]

Going Thrift Shopping with the main 4 (Hcs)

🛼- Summary - Head cannons about your experience thrift shopping with the boys!

- Pairing(s)- (SEPARATE) Kenny McCormick, Kyle Broflovski, Stan Marsh, and Eric Cartman x gn!Reader

🛼- Reader info - gn!reader and established relationship

- Warnings - none! (Unless you count swearing ig lmao)

………………………………………………………

🐀 - Kenny McCormick -

He’s so down, he’s SEEN all the ice cold shit you’ve found, and wants in on the action asap

Kenny had known about thrifting for a while, but hadn’t put too much thought into it due to money being tight and all, but according to YOU

“You just have to know where to look”

“Trust me I know a spot” “trust me this is where the heat is”

And trust you he did, because after taking him to some fun spots, there was no going back.

Thrifting buddy 24/7, just LOVES looking at the old clothes and pretending to be an old geezer with you, it makes him giggle

Fr makes up stories about shit he finds, probably forced you to wear it and purposely make you feel silly

“THIS old sweater was worn in the trenches of Mexico alongside my great great grandpa” 💀💀 and it’s a Star Wars T-shirt

Purposely finds good and bad clothes for you and him (he has pretty good fashion sense so you KNOW when hes got a shit eating grin)

If the shop has changing rooms, expect long ass fashion shows, the man spends WAY too much time looking at himself. He probably won’t even buy anything 98% of the time!! He’s just having fun with you!

Honestly, neither of you fucking knew that South Park had so many little shops like that!! Small towns DECEIVE!

The both of you almost always get coffee after a haul, it just feels right

And showing up to Tweek Bros. In the new shirt/sweater/etc, he feels like royalty ngl

Overall Kenny really enjoys the time spent with you, and the small moments between showing each other items or clothes really makes him feel momentarily flushed (he sees this sparkle in your eyes and he can’t help but melt)

Probably calls you a Cougar if you’re wearing something he deems “old” smh 😔

Also expect lots of “this reminded me of you”s and its the ugliest t-shirt you’ve ever seen

🧤 - Kyle Broflovski -

Ok he probably didn’t understand it at first and got kind of worried like

Is this your last resort 😔😔 he wouldn’t mind getting you something nice if you wanted 😔😔😔

You had to explain its a THING for you, like, it’s fun and you can find some pretty cool and cute things if you look hard enough!

Whatever, he wants to join in order to understand, and he surprisingly has good luck with good finds?? You’ll definitely force him to try at least ONE thing

Listen. This boy dresses himself like his mom still picks out his clothes ok. Button-ups, polos, nice jackets, Kyle’s a smartass and he wants to dress the part (😍) so for some reason it’s SO new to him, and he’s worried he’ll find something stupid and he won’t even know

Just wants your approval (he’s a sweaty nerd)

SURPRISINGLY, FINDS THE COOLEST THINGS! EVERY TIME!

Ok not every time but the matching old ass Terrance And Phillip shirts are a huge flex to him so hes happy

You’ll probably buy most of the things he shows you (they become your favorite and you wear them constantly)

Kyle and you are the same.like. “Oh this? Kyle found this necklace when we went thrifting together 🙄🙄”

And he’s constantly letting everyone know “Yeah this is a 1986 original Terrance And Phillip T-shirt matching with my partner 🙄🙄”

Everyone’s sick of it

You’ll go home with him after thrifting and Ike will TOTALLY make fun of you guys

Kyle, poor boy so In love, gets extremely giddy when you’re wearing something he found for you (blushing mess tbh)

Melts even more when you get some old stuffed animal for Ike and Ike ends up ADORING it (bonus brownie points from Sheila and Gerald)

He still doesn’t understand the whole thrift thing, I mean, newer clothes just last longer and fit his style more!! What!!

He enjoys going with you anyways and lovingly watches you get excited over small things like that <3

🎸 - Stan Marsh -

Crazy not so crazy, he’s actually gone a few times, really likes it too if it’s a good day

This, of course, makes you SUPER happy and you’re instantly dragging him to every spot South Park has

When he was with the goth kids, he remembered them talking about it, tried it for himself and was slightly obsessed for a bit

Indifferent about most of it, just likes going for the old band shirts or something with a funny graphic on it

Maybe a jacket or two as well

ACTUALLY he goes insane if there’s a cool looking varsity jacket or some jerseys yet to be worn

Although,,,,,,he has the worst luck with everything he cannot find anything good or something he likes,,,,

It’s either got shit stains or beer stains or god forbid SHARPIE or PAINT like WHY are these here

You gotta step in and hand him some of your luck, he wants his punk rock t-shirts or whatever 🙄 (he’s eternally grateful)

Thinks you look super cute in anything you’ve found, but gets slightly impatient if you’re taking too long in a dressing room or looking In the same section for too long

If there’s a certain band shirt you’re both looking for? He’s going to the ends of the earth (Just in South Park) to find it for you

Naturally, you’ll both have a blast just talking about where things have come from or chuckling over something funny looking

You’ll dress each other up in jackets too big for each other, it’s sweet and innocent 😭😭✊

Shelley caught wind of you two going thrifting every so often, she’ll kick out Stan and just wanna go with you 💀💀

Spoiler alert Shelley has TOO much fun with you and it becomes a thing (much to Stan’s dismay)

You’ll MOST LIKELY find stupid shit with her and constantly “hahaha Stan would look fucking STUPID in this”

“I know right!!”

Randy saw you wearing something you had found with Stan, thought it was Sharon’s for a while and was super confused 🤨🤨🤨

Overall, super fun chill time with the Marsh boy you love him, go get Ice cream with him after a haul ✊✊

🦝 - Eric Cartman -

“What the fuck are you wearing”

“It’s a cardigan I found doesn’t it look good!”

“Found where 💀💀💀”

ALSO DIDNT understand it and probably heard “shoplifting” instead of the former

You have to FORCE him to join you tbh and he suggested robbing Stan’s mom would get the job done faster, whatever

Pretends to be SUUUUPER bored and uninterested, like ugh he’s shopping? Says it’s totally gay

(SECRETLY LOVES SEEING YOU HAPPY 🥶)

Probably wouldn’t look around, just tag along while pretending to hate the entire experience (you know he doesn’t, you see his eyes go towards cool looking things in the shops)

Gets pretty impatient if he’s somewhere for too long, unless you REALLY beg him and find something that “meets his standards”

HATED thrifting until you found him a shirt without sleeves, looked corny as hell, had some bootleg graphic and inspirational quote and shit

Eric FELL IN LOVE WITH IT 😭😭 it showed off his muscles of course

You just HAD to get it for him, doesn’t stop wearing it, claims he found it until you give him the side eye

“We found it together 😍🙏”

“🤨”

You won’t go as often with him, but when you do (and when he’s not bitching about how boring it is), it’s actually a really fun time and he’ll make you crack tf up with snarky comments about things

He’s rude-funny and you are in love with it, especially when it’s towards something you like, you KNOW he doesn’t mean that bs towards you

Liane just HAD to mention that thrifting gets quite a lot of business in South Park, his con-man instincts went wild

Eric just wanted to start a business with you!! Resell items and clothes as if they were worth it! (They are not) fake stories galore!

Stop him before it’s too late please

DAMN WRITING FOR THEM HIS DIFFICULT, HOPE ITS IN CHARACTER, FIRST POST YALL 💀🙏

[gold-pavilion]

「TR Casual Fashion Illustrations」translations, part 1

I couldn't find them around and I really wanted them, so I grabbed the book and translated all of these.

Grouping the season 2 characters in this post. See this post for the season 1 characters.

Inui Seishu

- Likes wide, plain jerseys in gaudy purples or pinks

- Black loose-fitting tanktop

- Loose sweatpants, absolutely must match his top

- Stiletto heels, he likes the type that was kinda popular among delinquents in the 90s

(Koko, Hakkai, Yuzuha, and Taiju below)

Kokonoi Hajime

- Likes mao collar jackets, basics, flower patterns

- Sarouel pants, the feeling of freedom is key

- A dress shirt and proper black necktie are standard items he always wears

- Sandals, likes Loubou**n and Gi***chy and such

Shiba Hakkai

- Varsity jacket, loves when it's got a ton of patches making it flashier

- Knit sweater with damaged parts, Taka-chan chose it for him

- Taka-chan told him that since his legs are long, three-quarter length pants suit him, so that's what he wears

- Short boots that he instantly fell for while shopping with Yuzuha in Harajuku

Shiba Yuzuha

- Loves looking stylish

- Since it's casual wear, she likes matching up any manicure type with it

- Has special products to care for her light hair, which she inherited from her mom (and Hakkai uses them, even though his hair is shaved short)

- While looking for a jacket that matched her blouse at a thrift store, she loved this at first sight

- Loves high boots, 'cause they make her legs look slender

- "Nee-chan has a great fashion sense, but horrible when it comes to accessories", says Hakkai

Shiba Taiju

- Takes a liking to a new leather or denim jacket and wears that all season

- Very tight shirt

- At any rate, he likes combining a full black set!

- Only likes silver accessories anyways!

- Slim-ish jeans

- Anyways, he likes pointed shoes!

[spechblend]

My Guide to Patch/Crust DIY Pants That No One Asked For:

(If you see this guide go through changes, you’re not crazy, I update it all the time)

I’ve noticed that my DIY pants had been noticed on here, so I’d thought I make a guide for new punks getting into the scene 💖

I’ve been in the punk scene for a little over two years now, so don’t take everything I say to heart, I’ve got lots to learn.

Typically, you want to start out with a good base. For instance, the pants you choose can make or break your project. I don’t suggest buying super expensive pants, but don’t buy them super low quality either. You want something that lasts, as crust or patch pants are meant to be your only pair.

EDIT: Before I start any new project, I look around my stuff to see if I can repurpose anything. Old T shirts, bed sheets, bags, you name it. It’s so much easier to repurpose your stuff before buying new things, and you save money doing it. Before you buy pants, see if you can find a pair you already own! I had to buy new ones because I only had one other pair of jeans that I wear to work.

I’ve seen some tutorials floating around for DIY can spikes. Please be very careful doing this. If you’re moshing in a vest made with cut up aluminum, you can seriously hurt someone if you’re not careful. Be on the safe side and either borrow/buy pre made studs and spikes or save the DIY can spikes for non-moshing vests/pants/cuffs.

If you’re moshing with any studs or spikes at ALL, they should be blunt!!!

Good places to buy pants

Thrift (it’s a bit of a crapshoot if you have a hard time finding sizes, but if they’ve lasted long enough to end up in a thrift store, then it means they’re more likely good quality. Check the tags!!)

Edited above, been informed of how Goodwill treats disabled employees

ASOS (I recommend if you have a hard time finding your size. I can’t guarantee the sustainability of this site though.)

Mercari (Like an online goodwill. I find a lot of awesome clothes on here. You can download the app.)

Depop (I seldom shop on here, but similar to Mercari with a wider range of brands.)

How the Pants Should Fit

The fit of your pants can also affect how they lay on you. I suggest buying pants slightly larger on you, if you’re covering them in patches. When you start sewing, you’re going to find that they’re going to shrink a little bit. So please avoid tight fitting jeans if you can! Straight or relaxed fit are the best.

EDIT: If skinny/fitting pants are all you got, sometimes making relief cuts at the knees help when you try to bend down.

Patches

Patches are going to be what makes your pants unique! There’s quite a few you can choose from: plain patches, band patches, politics patches, etcetera. If you’re going to cover the entirety of your pants, I suggest going to Joann’s or Michaels (fuck Hobby Lobby) for fabric. Buy a yard or two canvas or pleather (or both). Otherwise, I usually cut up old T-shirts for my fabric.

How to Make Your Own Patches

Stencil (very straightforward, here’s a guide) (please check out Anarchostensilism on insta/Tiktok/Deviantart)

Paint (Buy white/black stencil fabric paint. I don’t suggest acrylic, since it’s not made to move with fabric)

Where to Buy Pre Printed Patches

crustpunks.com (Hella good, fast shipping, affordable!! Made by punks for punks)

nuclearwasteunderground.com (I found this one randomly)

Etsy (While I hate them for the way they treat their sellers, unfortunately this can be a main source of income for some.)

Shows, punk meets, friends

If you’re going to make crust pants, it’s imperative that you have crust bands on your patches, that’s what makes them crust! (Apart from never washing them)

Edit: I would do your own research on the crust punk subculture, there’s a lot of discourse out there on what makes punks crust punks and so on.

Washing your pants is not a black and white rule, but you can ruin the integrity of your work if you carelessly throw them in the washer. Like if you were to throw a suede jacket into the washer, there’s certain steps to take!

Here’s an enlightening guide on crust.

Here’s some crust band recs!

Nausea

Anti Cimex

Dystopia (my favorite)

disrupt

Doom

Heresy

Discharge

Amebix

Things to Add to Your Pants

Buttons (you can buy or make your own. Here’s a guide for DIY bottle cap buttons)

Pockets (easy to monkey wrench with a few spare patches, but here’s a pattern)

Handkerchiefs (the hankey code, much like the lace code, is pretty much dead. But it’s up to you if you want to signal something with it.)

Wallet chains (here’s a cool guide to making your own!)

Bum flap (by far the coolest thing on this list. Makes your ass not hurt when you sit on the sidewalk. Here’s a video)

Make them convertible (I made mine into zip off shorts. Here’s a video)

I made this up, but I added removable knee pads to mine.

Pant Inspiration

Have no shame in taking reference! Here’s are some cool accounts with awesome pants!

carnifexofhate

dontditchitstitchit

no_name_no_reason

okshrimpet

annals_of_the_crustwar

a_lifeisabuse_e

That’s all I got! Remember to never wash your pants ✨

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

Nothing Compares 2 You

Pairing: RockstarEddieMunsonxReader

Request: Thank you to @munsonfire for this request and for allowing me the use of her edit! I love emotional drama and you are very good at it (as you are very good at everything else). Eddie has to leave town because he's becoming famous and they break up. They still love each other after all these years, but they've never spoken to each other. Eddie may have had many girls in his life, she may have always followed him in the tabloids and thought he had forgotten about her. somehow, by chance, they might see each other again... when she thought she'd never see him again?

Word Count: 7.5K

18+ ONLY

“I don’t understand why we’re going to Rockefeller Center in October,” you mused, walking along with your best friends, Nancy and Robin. “Isn’t seeing the massive Christmas tree and ice skating the whole point of Rockefeller Center?”

Nancy sighed, looping her arm through yours, “Yes, but the whole area is full of shops and great restaurants. We can do a little shopping and grab a late lunch.  And how can we travel to New York City and not see Rockefeller Center?”

You shrugged. The three of you were having a girls long weekend in New York City. Only Nancy would want her bachelorette party to be a weekend of Broadway, culture, and history. The three of you had seen Anna Kerenina last night and it had been amazing. You’d also gone to Central Park, gone to the top of the Empire State Building, seen Times Square, and gone to The Met. Tomorrow was supposed to be the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island. 

Jonathan had popped the question last Christmas and your two friends were getting married in November. They were keeping the wedding fairly small. You and Robin were the only bridesmaids. Jonathan’s brother, Will, and his friend, Argyle, were the groomsman. The guys were doing a camping weekend, inviting along the rest of the crew. Jonathan and Nancy were not interested in the usual partying or strippers and while it may seem odd to most, you thought it was actually kind of refreshing.

As you approached Rockefeller center, you smiled. It was a perfect fall day, a world of color and warmth. The leaves were changing, the trees blazing in shades of red and orange. The sky was a clear, bright blue and you could sense the excitement in the air, the city vibrant and full of life. It felt like walking through a painting, every corner you turned a new picture full of beauty and wonder. 

“Oh!” Robin squealed, darting away from the two of you. “They have thrift stores!”

“Oh boy,” you laughed, you and Nancy shaking your heads at each other as you followed Robin into ‘The City Opera Thrift Shop.’ 

Robin looked like a kid in a candy store as she perused the mish mash of clothing on racks, sorted by size and then color. Robin was not a shopping kind of girl unless you got her into a thrift store. The girl loved nothing more than quirky and cheap. Growing up in a family that had to pinch every penny had taught her to be frugal. You loved her sense of fashion because it was so uniquely her. 

You meandered over to a rack of concert shirts, pushing them back one by one. Band tees were your go-to on weekends and oversized ones made the best pajamas. Used ones already had that soft, worn, washed feeling, leaving you from having to break them in. You pulled out a Black Crowes one, holding it up to yourself and your entire body froze, as if ice water had been dumped over your head, when you caught sight of the shirt that had been hiding behind it. 

A strangled sob lodged in your throat, cutting off your air supply, your hand moving on its own in slow motion. Your fingers gripped the side, running over the black cotton. Your eyes devoured the jagged lettering, like words carved into wood. You knew it intimately because you’d been the one who had drawn it years ago in high school. 

It was from their first tour, four years ago, in 1988. Your eyes slipped closed as you swallowed hard, forcing the sob down, locking it back into the dark box you tried to keep everything that had to do with him trapped in. But the image of him, those big brown eyes pleading with you to understand that he had to go, begging you to come with him, flashed behind your lids and your eyes shot open against the assault to your heart. 

“Hey, are you ready to go?” Robin called from the front of the store, a large bag hanging off of her arm. 

“Uh…yeah…” you cried out, shoving the Black Crowes shirt back in front of the shirt you wished you’d never seen, covering it up the same way you’d covered up everything to do with him. Out of sight, out of mind. At least that was how it was supposed to work.

Who were you kidding? That had never been how it had worked. How could it when he was everywhere you looked? His music videos were all over MTV, he was on every show doing interviews and performances, and forget about going to a store. That face that had haunted you for five years was plastered across every magazine. 

He clearly wasn’t thinking about you. He’d moved on, being pictured with a different woman on his arm every week. Making out with some supermodel at a party, having lunch with the hottest young actress in Hollywood, or catching some groupie’s panties on stage. The man had gotten what he’d always wanted. He was a rockstar, known across the world. He was the guy every woman wanted to fuck. He was the guy every guy wanted to be. He’d gotten out of Hawkins, away from their small minded ignorance, away from you. 

“Hey, you okay?” asked Nancy, her eyes narrowing in concern as you followed them out of the store. 

“Yeah,” you replied, forcing a smile on your face, “I’m good. So, what’s next?”

“More shopping, obviously,” giggled Nancy. “I need to find something for my mom. She’s always wanted to come to New York so I want to get her something very New York but not like the silly tourist stuff, you know? No snowglobes or keychains. I want to find her something cool.”

“Okay, well, then let’s get on it,” you stated, relieved to have a mission to focus your energy on to keep you from slipping down into that dark hole. That dark hole you’d disappeared down for six months after he’d left, that dark hole you swore you wouldn’t allow to swallow you anymore.

You spent the next hour and half in and out of stores, Nancy insisting nothing was right for her mom. You’d pointed out hand painted bags, shirts, paintings of the skyline, but nothing seemed to be right. Just as you were getting ready to give up for now and grab some lunch, Nancy gasped, pointing ahead. 

“The NBC Studios shop!” she squealed. “My mom loves Jay Leno. Her and Dad were so upset when Carson was leaving but they wound up loving Leno. They watch it every single night. I bet I could find her something there.”

She grabbed onto yours and Robin’s hands and dragged you through the doors of the shop before instantly abandoning you to peruse all the merchandise. You looked over at Robin and shrugged, the two of you splitting up to browse yourselves. There was an entire section of merchandise just for popular shows on the channel.

You picked up an X-men mug, thinking Dustin would love it but you quickly put it back. If you bought him something that would be an avalanche of spending you couldn’t stop or afford. You couldn’t get him something without bringing something back for all of them. You’d never hear the end of it from Mike, Lucas, or Max if you got Dustin something and not them. Will would be gracious about it. El would probably be confused as to why she should care. Steve would definitely give you shit, offended, claiming you loved Dustin more than him. 

Just as Nancy walked over, triumphant, with a mug and a shirt, you turned, your attention caught by a cavalcade of dark SUVs pulling up in front of the building. Your two friends spun to see what had caught your eye and Nancy sucked in a sharp breath. 

“Oh…I bet it’s someone famous. Someone who’s going to be on the Tonight Show or something. Who do you think it is?”

You shrugged, “How would I know? I don’t want it. Do either of you know who’s supposed to be on tonight?”

Robin shook her head, “No idea. Nancy, you said your parents watch it every night.”

“They do, but I don’t. I mean, I have here and there when someone I like is going to be on. But I haven’t watched tv all week so I haven’t even seen a preview. I was too busy with wedding plans and getting ready to leave for our trip.”

You watched curiously as a big guy in a suit with an earpiece came around the side of the SUV and pulled the door open. A familiar mop of curly dishwater blond hair appeared first, followed by the sweet face of one of your favorite people in the world. It should have filled you with pleasure to see him again, the guy who’d always treated you like a little sister, but instead a sense of dread seeped into your body. No. It couldn’t be. Because if he was here, then that meant…

You were falling, slipping sideways, as your world tilted on its axis at the sight of him climbing out of the SUV. Those coffee hued eyes were concealed by a large pair of sunglasses but you didn’t need to see them because they were forever imprinted on your brain. He looked so damn good, of course he did. In place of his usual ripped jeans and leather jacket, he wore a fitted brown suit, a white dress shirt unbuttoned just enough to provide you a peek of his chest.

“Oh shit,” muttered Robin. 

“Hey…hey…” Nancy called out next to you, her hand holding your bicep in a vice grip, as if she were scared you’d collapse which was a very real possibility at this moment. “Hey, you okay?”

You couldn’t answer. You had no air. Your throat tightened, your lungs were paralyzed, unable to pull in precious oxygen. You were trapped, suffocating under the weight of memories, memories you’d buried deep but that now broke free, flashing before your mind like a slideshow of pain. Eddie winking at you from the stage at the Hideout, him leaning against your locker after class, lying in the back of his van sharing a joint, sitting on his bed as he worked on a new song, dancing at prom, the day he left…image after image attacked you, a knife slicing into you over and over, leaving you bleeding and helpless. 

“I…no…I can’t…” you whimpered, shaking your head, taking small steps backwards as if you could run from him, as if he wasn’t about to come through the exact entrance you would need to escape. 

“Hey, calm down. It’s okay,” Nancy urged but her words fell on deaf ears. 

You were drowning, everything muffled, the lights were too bright. You couldn’t breathe. Your hands clawed at the neck of your shirt, a v-neck, which was in no way hindering anything but it felt like it. Your clothes felt restricting, too tight, caging you in. 

One of the large men pushed open the door as two others flanked Eddie, leading him through it. Gareth, Jeff, and Grant came behind him, each with their own bodyguards. Jesus, there must have been twelve guys with them, covering them on all sides, the front, and the back, ensuring no one was getting close to them. That was fine. There wasn’t anything you wanted less.

As they passed in front of the gift shop’s floor to ceiling windows, you took two more steps back, bumping into a mannequin, sending it crashing to the floor along with a display of drinking glasses. A clerk glared over at you with a sigh, coming over to assess the damage. But that wasn’t what you were focusing on as Eddie’s head turned toward the sound. He stilled, pulling the sunglasses off his face, and there was those eyes, going wide as he took in the sight of you standing in the middle of the shop. 

“Shit…no…no, no, no, no…” you pleaded, eyes darting from one side to the other, desperately seeking a way out of this situation but there was none unless you were willing to run past him.

“It’s okay, just breathe. It’s okay.” Nancy’s hands rubbed over your arms, attempting to soothe but only succeeding in making you even more agitated. 

You shrugged her off as Eddie leaned into one of his bodyguards, whispering something in his ear. You were frozen, your feet stuck to the floor as the burly guy nodded and followed Eddie, pulling the door open. Suddenly the man you’d only seen in pictures and on television for the last five years was standing in front of you and you wished the Earth would open up and swallow you whole. 

“Princess? Robin? Nancy? What are you three doing in New York?” Eddie asked, his sunglasses held between his thumb and forefinger, his eyes never leaving yours. He looked as if he had seen a ghost, as if you were a mirage. 

“Girl’s weekend before my wedding,” answered Nancy when you hadn’t responded. 

“Wedding?” Eddie’s eyebrows lifted, but still he didn’t look at her, his eyes glued on you as if you would disappear if he looked away. “You and Jonathan?”

“Yeah. He popped the question last Christmas,” she replied. “So, how’s the rockstar life?”

“Huh? Oh…uh, you know.” He shrugged. “Very rockstar.” His head tilted, those brown eyes threatening to pull you under, to consume you entirely. You wanted to look away but you couldn’t. “I can’t believe you’re here. I, well, I have to do this Tonight Show thing. It could take a few hours but would you want to come to my hotel after?”

His hotel? Was he serious? There was no way you could trust yourself alone in a room with him. Your body reacted to him, remembered him, his fingertips an imprint on your skin. This man who had known you more intimately than anyone else had in your entire life. This man who had been your first. This man who you’d thought would be your only before he shattered your heart. 

Robin’s hand wrapped around yours, sensing the distress your body was under as Nancy stepped in front of you. Your friends who had been there, who had witnessed that dark time in your life, who had been the ones to pull you back from the edge just as you were ready to plummet into the abyss. 

“How about you give us the information and let her think about it?” Nancy offered.

“Princess?” Eddie asked, concerned, his face peering around Nancy to find you again but this time you looked away. “Look, I just want to talk. I haven’t seen you in…god, it’s been…”

“Five years,” you mumbled, shocked at the sound of your own voice. 

“I know,” he said softly. “Trust me. I know exactly how long it’s been. Look, if you tell me where you’re staying, I can have my driver pick you up. Or if you’d prefer, I can come to you. Just tell me your hotel and room number and I can come over after. I can bring dinner or we can order something or we can go out somewhere if that would make you more comfortable.”

“Look, Eddie,” Robin began, stepping into him, forcing him to step back. “She’s a bit overwhelmed at seeing you. I’m sure you can understand that.”

“I can because I feel exactly the same. I just want to talk.”

“Well, maybe she does and maybe she doesn’t but maybe you need to take a step back and give her some time to process all of this,” Nancy suggested calmly. “Give us your information and she can have a couple hours to decide what she wants to do.”

But you knew what you wanted. Of course you knew. There hadn’t been a choice from the moment you’d seen Gareth, knowing Eddie was not far behind. Seeing the man you’d been hopelessly in love with years after he left left you in a flurry of mixed emotions. You were both overjoyed to see that face you’d adored so much and overcome with old memories and thoughts of what could have been if he’d never left. A tug-of-war between the past and the present, battling for your heart with such force you feared it would rip in two. 

Yet, even with all the conflict inside you, there was never any doubt of what you would do if given the choice. Wasn’t this the exact kind of situation you’d fantasized about endless times? Running into him, him missing you, him telling you that you’d always been the only one for him, that he still loved you.

“Room 1562 at The Mayfair,” you said, all three heads turning to look at you as you inhaled deeply and brought your eyes back to his face. “And you can bring food. That’s fine.”

“I’ll see you in a few hours then,” Eddie said, giving you that smile that swept your feet out from under you every damn time. “I can’t wait. Thank you, princess.”

Blinking back tears, you walked past him, past his slack jawed bandmates, ignoring Gareth when he called out to you, and out of the building. You weren’t trying to be bitchy but you had to get out of there. If you didn’t get some fresh air to your brain, you were going to pass out. Stopping on the sidewalk, you gulped in precious oxygen, wondering what in the hell you’d just gotten yourself into.

The door flew open, your two best friends flying out and running over to your side. Nancy’s hand came to your back. Robin’s arm locked around yours, the two of them guiding you away from the building, understanding that you needed distance. 

“Holy shit…holy shit…” Robin gasped. “I cannot believe that just happened. Are you okay?”

“I had no idea. I am so sorry,” Nancy crooned, her hand making soothing circles over your back. “Who would have thought of all the weekends in the year, the one we chose to come to New York, Eddie would be here?”

“Not me,” you managed, a nervous giggle, frantic and squeaky exploding from you. 

“Honey, are you sure you want to do this?” Nancy questioned. 

“Yeah. If you’re rethinking this, we can go get our stuff and check out right now. We can switch hotels. He’ll never know where to find us,” Robin told you. “You don’t have to see him if you don’t want to.”

“No…no…I do,” you assured them, slowly coming down from the very near panic attack you’d just experienced. “I do. I want to see him. I want to talk to him. It’s okay. It’s going to be hard. It’s going to be painful but maybe it will also be good.”

“Good? Do you remember how you were after he left? Because we do,” Robin commented, one eyebrow lifting. “You don’t have to subject yourself to that again.”

“I know. I know. But he’s not a bad guy. He didn’t try to hurt me. He had an amazing opportunity and he couldn’t pass it up. And I am happy for him. Really, I am. It sucked but he’s not the bad guy. There is no bad guy in this story. It was an impossible situation. I’ll be okay. I was just taken by surprise. It was unexpected but I am expecting him to show up later so it will be fine.” Her two friends eyebrows lifted, eyes narrowed, lips pursed. “Seriously, it will be fine.”

____________________________________________________________

It wasn’t fine. Nothing about this was fine. You paced across the floor of your hotel room as you’d been doing for the last hour. You had no idea when he was arriving. How long did a taping for The Tonight Show take? Why would you know that? You had no experience in the world of celebrity. Maybe he wasn’t coming at all. Maybe he’d thought about it and realized that he didn’t need to waste his time seeing you. He had gorgeous women throwing themselves at him all the time. Why would he sacrifice an evening with a supermodel to hang out with his average ex-girlfriend from small town Hawkins?

This was ridiculous. Why had you agreed to this? What good was seeing him going to do? Just the sight of the man had brought on a panic attack, a shirt with his band’s name had sent you spiraling down the rabbit hole of sadness. Didn’t you know this? How many times had you lost track of time, disappearing into memories when you’d spotted his face on a magazine cover at the store? 

No, you definitely should not have given him your hotel information. You should have said it was nice to see him, good luck with his appearance, and then left. Polite but keeping everything casual. You hadn’t been anything to him for five years. Five years was a long time. He’d obviously moved on. What did it say about you that you hadn’t?

Sure, you’d dated. You had that thing with Dylan that lasted for a year but it ended eight months ago when he confronted you, demanding to know if you were in love with him and you couldn’t give him the answer he wanted. You wanted to be in love with him. You wanted to be able to give someone else your heart fully but it had never belonged to you. It wasn’t yours to give. Your heart was currently touring the world and maybe it was time you got it back. Maybe that was what this meeting would do for you. You could finally sever that string, take back what was yours so you could move on and give it to someone else. 

A sharp knock on your door paused your thoughts, your feet skidding to a stop on the carpet. Your entire body responded to the possibility of Eddie on the other side of that door, heart racing, lungs rushing, the hair on your arms raising. Closing your eyes, you took in a slow inhale through your nose and then calmly walked over, opening it. 

“Oh!” you shrieked in surprise to find one of the large bodyguards standing on the other side. He pushed past you and began looking around the room, checking in closets, under the bed, and in the bathroom.

Eddie shrugged, smiling sheepishly at you, “Sorry about this. They’re very serious about my safety.”

The bodyguard appeared content that nothing was lurking in your room to attack his charge. He gave Eddie a small nod, saying, “Jack and I will be right outside the door.”

“How about just down the hall, man?” Eddie suggested. “A little privacy, maybe?”

The big man did not appear happy about it but he nodded, “Just down the hall. We’ve given very strict instructions that no one is to be allowed onto this floor until you leave, unless they are being escorted by James. He’s down in the lobby.”

“Got it. I feel very safe,” Eddie assured him, closing the door behind him. He turned to you, eyes rolling, hooking his thumb toward the door. “These guys are so fucking annoying but management insists. I had a stalker situation last year and ever since then, I’ve gone nowhere without Mr. Tall and Surly.”

“You had a stalker?” you asked, a weight weighing heavy in your stomach at the thought of him being in any danger. 

Eddie shook his head with a snort, wild brown waves tossing around as he began unpacking a large brown bag onto the table, “It was nothing. Seriously. Some twenty year old who had convinced herself that we were destined to be or something. She sent notes and flowers. It was all harmless at first until she managed to figure out where we were staying and I got back late one night to her hiding in my closet.” He chuckled darkly, opening containers, the smell of Italian food permeating the room. “Scared the shit out of me, let me tell you. But she didn’t have any weapons or anything. She wasn’t trying to hurt me. She just wanted to convince me we were soulmates. Hotel security showed up and escorted her out. Poor thing was clearly struggling with some kind of mental illness. I tried to convince CJ, our manager, that it wasn’t a big deal but ever since then he’s been adamant that we have a security detail.”

“Well, better safe than sorry,” you sighed, moving over to sit across from him at the table as he took a seat. “I mean, stalker situations can be very scary. You’re lucky she wasn’t out to hurt you.”

“I guess.” He held up a container of chicken alfredo. “This still your favorite?”

“Uh…yeah,” you nodded, smiling as he scooped down on your plate, along with garlic bread. “Thanks.”

“Well, I was trying to figure out what to grab and then I remembered how much you love Italian food. You always picked Enzo’s for your birthday dinner. You still go there every year?”

“No. I don’t. This past birthday, I actually went out of town for my dinner to a new Thai place in Indy. Dylan didn’t really like…” You stopped, pressing your lips together. Shit. Why had you mentioned Dylan? And no, you hadn’t stepped foot in Enzo’s in five years. That had been your and Eddie’s place. You couldn’t stand the thought of going in there without him.

“Dylan?” asked Eddie, not missing a beat. He sat up, leaning back in his chair, legs spreading wide, those ring clad fingers running over his thighs as he looked at you. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“He was.”

“Was? What happened?”

You swallowed hard. This was not a topic you wanted to be discussing with him. But you’d been the one to open the flood gates, to stick your big old foot in your mouth.

“We broke up,” you replied with a shrug. “It wasn’t really going anywhere, you know? He was nice. I liked him. But he asked me if I was in love with him and I just…I couldn’t lie. So, he ended it. It was probably for the best anyway.” You needed to change the subject before he had you admitting things you did not want. “So, anyway, who cares about me? I’m still living the same boring life in Hawkins. I want to know about you, the big rockstar.”

Eddie flushed, those cheeks turning bright ride as he grabbed onto his hair, bringing it across his mouth. Your heart tugged, remembering how he did this when he was embarrassed or uncomfortable. 

“It’s not as amazing as it sounds. I mean, it is. I love playing music for a living. I love being in the recording studio, working through the kinks with the guys, that moment when we finally get it right. There is nothing like standing on that stage, a sea of people screaming for you, singing your songs back at you. That part is…there really are no words. But the rest of it, all the interviews, the photo shoots, the required appearances at different functions, that’s just all the extra shit that I have to do to keep management happy. Sleeping in a different town every night gets exhausting. Sometimes I really do lay back at night and dream of my simple life back in Hawkins…sometimes I dream about that last night, laying next to you under the stars. I’ve missed you, princess.”

You swallowed, emotion threatening to choke you at his words, “Eddie…”

“What?”

“Don’t, okay? Please don’t.”

“Don’t what? Tell you that I miss you?”

“I can’t do this,” you whispered, closing your eyes and shaking your head, tears building up behind your eyelids. “I can’t. You have no idea. You have no idea what it was like for me when you left. You have no idea how hard it was.”

“But I do know how hard it was,” he argued, reaching for your hand but you pulled it back quickly. “I know exactly how hard it was because it was hard for me too.”

“Really? It was hard for you,” you challenged, eyes opening to glare at him. “It must have been really hard to have those models suctioned to your lips, to have your hand up the skirt of beautiful actresses you were dining with, to be sleeping with a different girl every night. I saw all the photos, Eddie. Your epic love life has graced the pages of many magazines.”

His eyes widened, nostrils flaring, “Yeah, okay? I’ve had a pretty healthy sex life since I left. I was a goddamn mess for a while. I was burying myself in other women because I was trying to forget you.”

“Well, good for you. I’m glad that worked for you! Because nothing ever worked for me!” you cried, jumping up so hard you knocked the chair back.

“It didn’t work for me! And how can you be so pissed off at me? I begged you to come with me and you refused. Do you really hate me for chasing after my dream? You knew I wanted to play music when we started dating. You knew I would go for it if I could.”

“No. I don’t hate you. Fuck, I wish I could hate you because it would make things so much easier but I can’t. You didn’t do anything wrong. I can’t fault you for chasing your dreams. And look at the life you have now. I’m proud of you, Eddie. I really am, but I…I never thought I would recover when you left.”

“Neither did I but I begged you, princess! I begged you to come with me!”

“I know you did but what would that have even looked like, Eddie? What? Me waiting in hotel rooms while you trekked from place to place? Me becoming the third wheel that was dragging you down because your focus wasn’t solely on the band? I couldn’t be that person. I couldn’t become someone you resented because I was standing in the way of you getting what you wanted. And obviously you’ve gotten it. You’ve moved on! Good for you. I can’t. I’m still stuck in that town where memories of you assault me on a daily basis. I can’t get away from you!”

“You think I’ve moved on?” he demanded, rising from his chair. 

“You obviously have. I’ve seen the evidence. I know about you and that starlet. It’s been five years. Of course you moved on. You have this exciting life, traveling all over, meeting all kinds of people. You should have moved on but then you don’t get to come in here and give me those damn eyes and tell me you’ve missed me. That’s not fair.”

“Not fair?” Eddie’s eyes flashed as he began moving forward, backing you up with each step until he was so close you could feel his breath fanning your face. “Moved on? Princess, I have never moved on. You crawled inside me. You’re in my blood, my fucking skin. No matter how many women I’ve fucked, I never moved on. You want to talk about not fair. Not fair is your face haunting me everytime I’m fucking someone else, wishing it was you beneath me. Not fair is you suddenly being in my town, finally within reach, and you telling me I don’t get to tell you how much I’ve missed you. Not fair is how badly I want to bury myself inside you right now even knowing it will destroy me because it will have been worth it.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, stepping back again, the backs of your knees hitting the bed and sending you toppling onto your back on the mattress. Those brown eyes darkened with lust, the only warning you had before he was on top of you, fists on either side of your head, gazing down at you with such desire that you were sure to drown in it. 

“This is a bad idea,” you managed to choke out, knowing his words were true. Allowing him to consume you would mean the end of you but you didn’t have the strength to stop it because you wanted this. Jesus, you wanted this so badly. 

“Yeah, it probably is,” he rasped, ducking his head down, his nose trailing over your cheek and down along your neck, inhaling the scent of you, sending shivers racing down your spine and straight between your thighs. “But I don’t fucking care. Let me have you, princess, even if it's only for one night.”

“Yes…”

You barely had the word out before his lips were on yours, devouring you like a man starved. Your lungs expanded as if this kiss were breathing life back into you. Your heart jumped, responding, coming back from being dormant for so long the moment his lips touched yours. Your soul pulled, reaching for him, recognizing in him the thing it had been missing for too long. 

“I’ve missed you,” he growled, teeth pulling at your bottom lip before his tongue slid past and over yours. You met it, the two reacquainting themselves, dancing to a tune you both remembered the steps to as if it had just been yesterday. 

A large hand slid along the outer edge of your thigh, up your dress, cool metal pressing into your skin as he gripped your ass through your panties and you whimpered at the feel of those hands on you again. His lips moved, exploring every inch of your face and neck, leaving no part of you untouched. 

“You smell so damn good,” he whispered, tongue snaking along the column of your throat. “Taste good too.”

Your body shuddered. His other hand grabbed onto the strap of your dress, dragging it down your shoulder and arm until the cool air hit your exposed breast. 

“Fuck, no bra, baby? Was that just for me?”

You could not formulate words as his mouth latched onto your nipple, sucking hard. His tongue lazily swirled, lavishing it with attention as he ground his erection down into you, fingers digging into your ass, pulling you as close as possible. His teeth raked over the tender bud and you cried out, back arching, pressing yourself against his face. 

“You like that, baby?” he crooned, doing it again, grinning when he got the exact reaction he wanted. “Feel good?”

“Yes, Eddie,” you whined, your hands grabbing at his leather jacket. He pulled back just long enough to pull it off and your fingers latched onto the hem of his shirt before he could stop you, needing to feel his skin. You sat up, his thighs straddling your, lifting it over his head and tossing it to the floor. 

Your eyes greedily ran over every inch of him, your fingers tracing the familiar tattoos inked over his skin before moving to the unfamiliar ones. He sighed at your touch, his eyes fluttering closed, his body exhaling as if in relief. There was a dragon running over his ribcage and a familiar guitar on his arm. Fuck, he was beautiful. He was still your Eddie, a bit more toned, but still lean and pale and just as perfect as you remembered. 

You pressed your lips against the black widow on his chest. Eddie moaned, one hand cradling the back of your head as your mouth explored his chest just as he’d explored yours. You teased one nipple and then the other, nibbling, enjoying the hiss of pleasure that escaped between his clenched teeth. And then you paused, your head snapping back, tears burning your eyes when you caught sight of the small black letters just to the left of the demon head he’d gotten when you were juniors. Your fingers reached out hesitantly, running over the letters.

“Is this…?” you breathed.

He glanced down, a soft smile curving his lips as he took your fingers, pressing a kiss to them, “Yeah. It’s a copy of the carving I put in that tree of our initials senior year.”

“But why? Why would you get that when we weren’t even together anymore?”

“Because,” Eddie began, those hands coming down on the mattress, leaning into you, forcing you to lie back as his mouth scorched your skin, trailing over your collarbone. “My heart is yours. It always has been. It doesn’t matter how far apart we are or if we’re together, it’s always been with you, sweetheart.” His hand slid under your dress again, palming your pussy over your panties and he hissed. “Fuck…your panties are already so wet. Is that all for me? Did she miss me?”

“So fucking much,” you whined, rolling your hips toward his hand, needing to feel his fingers on you, inside you. It had been so long and only Eddie knew how to bring you to earth shattering orgasm. No man since had made your toes curl the way he did.

Eddie’s nose ran over your hair, his tongue tracing the shell of your ear. His hand slid under your panties as he stretched out next to you, fingers slipping through your slick to find your aching clit. Your body bucked and you keened, arching as his thumb brushed over your clit. Small circles teased the sensitive little bud as two thick fingers pressed into you, your body immediately pulsing around them. 

“Mmm…she remembers,” he breathed against your ear, pulling your earlobe between his teeth. “She knows who she belongs to.”

“Fuck,” you whimpered, his words sending shockwaves of pleasure rocking through your body, your hips rolling to meet the pumping of his fingers. 

His fingers began scissoring, spreading you, preparing you for him just the way he used to. The pleasure coursing through you was like your own sweet little oasis. You had opened the door to a world you’d long hidden from yourself and any stress or worry about what this meant, what happened after this, disappeared. Eddie, his fingers, his words, his body, was all that mattered in this moment. 

He curled his fingers within you, hitting that spot that only he had ever found, that spot that had you seeing stars, that had you hurtling through the universe toward a never ending void. You screeched, eyes rolling back and then closing, chest heaving with every single gasp of air, knowing you weren’t going to be able to hold on much longer. 

A strong grip on your chin turned your head toward Eddie, “Open your eyes for me, beautiful. I’ve waited far too long for this. I want to see you lose control.”

It was a struggle, your body fighting back against you as it thrashed around in the waves of the storm that was your approaching orgasm. You finally opened your eyes, finding those brown ones that reminded you so much of perfectly melted chocolate staring into yours with such intensity that your stomach coiled even more. 

“You’re close, aren’t you, princess?” he asked with certainty. “I can feel it. Come on, baby. Let go for me.”

You screamed his name as your body trembled violently, your back arching, that knot in your stomach loosening. And then he was dragging your underwear down your legs, pushing his own pants and boxers past his hips. His lips were on yours and your hand slid between you, fisting his cock and the groan he released sent a whole new shock of pleasure through you. 

“Fuck baby, yes…” he moaned, his forehead rolling over yours. “Feels so good…missed you…missed your touch.”

His tongue slid into your mouth once again as you worked him in your hand and then teased him, guiding his cock through your slick, up and down. Each time the head of it bumped over your clit, you whimpered, the sound swallowed into his mouth. 

“Love when you use me to get off,” he growled. “Need to be inside you, sweetheart. You still on the pill?”

“Y…y…yes…” you stammered.

The word was barely out of your mouth before he thrust into you, pressing until his pelvis was flush with yours. You groaned simultaneously at the feel of your bodies connecting once again. Your pussy fluttered around him, as if welcoming him home, everything feeling as it should be for the first time in far too long.

“Jesus, baby, you feel so fucking good. So fucking good,” grunted Eddie, his body still, nose bumping over yours and you blinked when something wet fell onto your eye. Looking up, you saw he was crying and your heart squeezed as if in a vice. 

Your hand cupped his cheek, thumb brushing over the drop, collecting it. He smiled softly, pressing his lips to yours as he began to move his hips slowly, rutting within you each time until he was bottomed out. His arms came around your back, crushing you against him, melding your two bodies until no inch of you was untouched by him.

“Eddie, I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you…” you breathed, fingers moving into his hair, your foreheads stamped together as he thrust into you as if he were trying to climb into your body.

“Me too, baby. Me too. This is how it’s supposed to be. You’re mine. You were always meant to be mine.” His mouth fell on your neck, biting and sucking, marking you. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours…yours…” you cried, feeling as you climbed toward release once again. 

“And I’m yours. I’ve always been yours. Just yours.” He growled, his fingertips digging into the flesh of your upper shoulders. “I’m gonna, princess. Cum with me, baby.”

It wasn’t a choice. You were barely hanging on by a thread. He buried himself deep within you, his body stilling as he cried out your name, his cock twitched, filling you with his release. Your head pressed into the pillow, legs locking around him, joining him in sweet ecstasy as you peaked once again. 

Eddie shuddered above you and then collapsed against you, his face buried against your neck. Your fingers toyed with his hair, tears burning your eyes. Fuck, you were going to pay for this. How long would you bury yourself in that miserable dark hole this time after you inevitably parted, after he headed off to be a rockstar again?

“Jesus H. Christ, princess…that was fucking amazing,” he sighed, nuzzling against your neck. “I love you.”

Your entire body stilled, completely rigid at his words. That vice around your heart tightened, threatening to crush it into a million pieces. No. You’d never recover from this. The sex would have been hard enough to get past but those words…this was too much. Silent tears slid down your cheeks. 

“Hey, hey,” Eddie soothed, his mouth pressing where the tears were. “Why the tears, princess? Why are you sad?”

“I can’t…I can’t do this,” you mumbled, attempting to sit up but his arms came around, pulling you back down to the bed, cradling you against his body. Tender kisses pressed against your forehead and you sunk into the safety and comfort of him, knowing it wouldn’t last. 

“Can’t do what?”

“What are we doing? You’re just going to leave again and I am going to have to try to get over you again. And I didn’t do a great job the first time. Why do you think I wasn’t in love with Dylan? Because I’ve never been able to get over you!”

“Baby, I never got over you either. I tried. And yes, I do have to leave again. That’s my job. But come with me.” His fingers brushed your hair back from your face, his eyes begging you the same they did five years ago. “Come on tour with me. You belong with me. I know it and so do you. Don’t make me have to live without you anymore.”

“Eddie, I don’t want to be in the way.”

“You won’t. You were worried the band wouldn’t take off if you were there distracting me but the band’s already taken off. The guys have missed you too. They would love to have you come along. Gareth’s got a girl and she travels with us. Nobody cares. Besides…” he grinned, teasing your neck with kisses, “you are the best kind of distraction.”

“I…I mean…”

“You mean what? I’ve been miserable without you. Are you telling me you haven’t been miserable without me?”

“No. I have,” you admitted. 

“Then come with me. Be with me. Let’s be happy.”

He was right. All of the reasons you’d had five years ago to not go on tour with them were mute at this point. Corroded Coffin was the most popular band in the world. You weren’t going to stop them from becoming big because they were already big. You tried picturing it, traveling the world with Eddie, seeing and experiencing things you never had before, sleeping next to him every night, getting to watch him on stage again. And you realized, you wanted it. You wanted it badly. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?” His eyes lit up. “You’re going to come on the road with me?”

“Yes. I’m so tired of trying to be happy without you. I just want you. You’re what makes me happy.”

“Oh sweetheart, I am going to make you happy every day for the rest of forever, starting now,” he grinned, and then his lips were traveling down your body and your head was humming with bliss.

[bitchin-beskar]

Sorry shamless asking for another one. Only if you wanna answer.

Either 141 boys or Paz ( or all ) not quite thot.

Their proposal style.

💍

Happy weekend!

do I wanna answer????

you bet ur ass i do goddamn

I'll do a little proposal style for college!athlete!roommate!paz if ya'll want, but I'll answer this ask specifically for our 141 boys (plus alejandro and rudy bc ofc)

Task Force 141 + Alejandro Vargas & Rodolfo Parra and Proposal Style

Captain John Price

I hc that Price has a love of old things. I think he loves antiques, history, collectibles, etc. I think his flat is filled with memorabilia shit from WWI and WWII, classic novels he finds at garage sales and thrift book shops that are well worn and well loved, things with history and a past, things that mean something.

So, I think when he's going to propose, he's got the ring picked out, something he found in a pawn shop or thrift store, something that's old and beautiful, full of meaning and history. Of course, if it needs repairing, or new setting, he'll do what he needs to, make sure that it's clean and polished and that it suits you. He just likes sharing these little bits of history that have fascinated him for his entire life with you, and to put one of those little bits of history on your finger and swearing to love you for eternity? He loves it.

For reference, I imagine the ring Price finds looks something like this:

For the actual proposal, he's not going to make a big, public spectacle. He's always a little more uncomfortable in crowded places, due to his years as active military, he's a paranoid bastard by nature, and besides, this is supposed to be a happy, special occasion and something he wants to be fully engaged in, not distracted trying to analyze potential threats to your safety.

You're probably at home, in the flat you share with him. He'll make dinner, nothing super fancy, but a comfort meal that both of you love. It's not overly fancy or romantic, but it's thoughtful and sweet and everything that you love about him. He'd wanted to wait until after you'd both eaten, and were maybe cuddled up on the couch in front of the fire, but as he's putting the leftovers away, and you're elbow deep in sudsy water, rinsing the dishes, he finds he physically cannot wait a second longer.

He drops to a knee, the quiet utterance of your name barely heard over the rushing sink water, but you throw a "Yes, John?" over your shoulder. When he doesn't say anything, you turn to look and realise what's happening.

Of course, the two of you have talked about it before, after you'd been settled in a relationship for a few years, talking about the future and what you both wanted, but you'd had no idea when he was planning to propose, so the act itself is shock. You don't even shut off the water, falling to your own knees in front of him, hands fisting in the front of his shirt as you whisper "yes" against his mouth before you kiss him.

He reluctantly pulls away from your kiss, only to slide the ring onto your finger, before he pulls the both of you to your feet. Shutting off the water is the extent of the cleaning that you finish, deciding as you stumble to the bedroom that the rest of the dishes can wait until after the two of you have had some time to celebrate.

Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley

I think that for the longest time, Ghost truly believed he'd never marry. At first, it was just a matter of not having met anyone he'd want to spend the rest of his life with, but over time and missions, scars and torments, blood and secrets, Ghost decided that he'd never find someone who'd be able to love all of him, that he was only good for the harsh things in life, never the soft.

So, it's a huge surprise when he meets you and realises months into knowing you that he's fallen, and he's fallen hard. He meets you in the most mundane of places, like a coffee shop, an interaction that should just be a one off, but one that repeats with enough regularity that the cold, stone muscle that functions as his heart begins to beat faster with excitement at the anticipation of seeing you.

You remember him, greet him with a soft smile whenever you see him, never seeming to be put off by the fact that he never removes his balaclava. You'll ask him how he's doing, but you don't seem to mind that his answers are usually a fraction of the syllables. He's used to his size intimidating others, but you never seem to mind that he's roughly the size of a tank.

I think it's like pulling teeth to get him to admit his feelings, but when he finally does, the two of you fall into a relationship like you were built for each other. It's easy, far easier than the rest of his life, and for the first time, he finds himself dreading longer missions, because he's actually got someone to come home to.

That being said, I think when he proposes, it's not something planned. Maybe something happens at home, where you are, the danger not being something he'd thought to worry about. Maybe there was a robbery, maybe someone attacked your workplace with a gun, and when Ghost sees it on the news, because Johnny's there saying "Dinnae ya say somethin' 'bout ya girl workin' there, Ghost?", he panics.

Price gets him on the first flight home, and Ghost is bursting into your flat with an urgency he's not felt outside the battlefield, even though it's the dead of night and you're fast asleep in your bed. He doesn't miss a beat, shedding the worst of his tac gear and crawling onto the bed, wrapping his arms and legs around you even as you stir awake, burying his face in your neck as his heartbeat finally begins to slow.

You seem to know why he's here, why he's like this, because you don't say anything, just simply wrap your own arms around him, tugging off his mask and running your fingers through his sweaty, tousled hair. Your other hand presses in between his shoulder blades, dwarfed by the massive size of his torso, but still a grounding touch.

It takes him a long time to speak, longer than usual, and when he finally does, it's to whisper against your skin that he wants to marry you, like a sinner at confessional, begging absolution from the Priest of God.

You still underneath him, definitely not expecting that to be what he says, but it's like the dam has burst, and he can't seem to stop. He tells you about how scared he was when he'd heard, a fear he hasn't felt since he was young, unscarred and unknowing of the horrors of humanity. He'd known that you meant a lot to him, but the thought of losing you had shaken him more than he'd thought possible. He whispers that he can't give you much, he knows that, but he wants to give you his name, and a promise that he'll love you as best he can, for as long as he's got on this earth.

Your body is shaking under him, and he starts to pull back, worried he's crossed a line, but you're sobbing, silent and desperate, even as you tug him up and seal your lips against his. He sinks into your kiss, tears he's been holding back finally falling too. You whisper back that yes, yes dammit you want to marry him, and you don't care about him giving you anything other than his love.

In the morning, the two of you go to a jewelry store, and pick out matching bands, simple silver rings with no gemstones or embellishments. You get them engraved, on the inside where the metal rests against your skin, his name on yours and your name on his, to carry each other when you're apart.

Sergeant John 'Soap' MacTavish

For Soap, I think he buys the ring within the first month of dating. Some (most) might call him eager, maybe childish in his hope, but Soap is an excellent judge of character. He's never once been wrong, his gut instinct always telling him the measure of those he meets, and so when he starts dating you, he knows very quickly that you're the one he's gonna spend the rest of his life with.

People tend to assume he's a fuckboy, likely due to his flirtatious tendencies. He knows what others think of him, and for the most part, it doesn't bother him. However, it takes him far longer than he'd like to convince you that he's actually interested, because of how flirtatious he can be, you think he's just like that with everyone.

Honestly, Price has to pull you aside and tell you to put the poor boy outta his misery by either going out with him, or not. You're very stunned, because it's honestly been torture for you to be around him because you're very into him, but were convinced that he just saw you as a friend. Price just shakes his head and calls you both muppets.

When you're together, it's the happiest the both of you have ever been. Your sense of humour compliments each others, you always have so much fun together, it's honestly the time of your life. You miss him terribly when he's gone, but Soap has a habit of leaving little slips of paper with jokes and puns written on them around the apartment, a little surprise for you to find and to remind you that he's always thinking of you when he's gone.

Soap's proposal happens somewhat spontaneously. He's come home from a long op, and the two of you haven't left the bed in damn near twenty-four hours. He's lounging on the pillows, with you tucked under his arm, ear over his heart and left hand resting on his bare chest. His own hand covers yours, his thumb stroking over the skin of your fourth finger, a habit he's picked up lately.

Finally, he pipes up, voice thick with his Scottish accent, and asks what you'd think about marryin' him.

At first, you think he's joking, because as much as you love him, you'd never really thought he might be the marrying type. He carries the air of a free spirit, one who operates best not tied to anything or anyone. You joke a bit about how he needs a ring at least before he thinks about proposing, only for him to reach over and open the drawer on his nightstand, pulling out a small velvet box and popping it open before your wide and startled eyes.

"Whaddya think, bonnie?" He husks, voice clear and nonchalant even as his eyes betray his nerves. "Think you'd be willin' ta tie yourself ta me for the rest 'o our lives?"

You pluck the gold band from the crushed velvet, slipping it onto your finger even as tears fill your eyes. You stare at it on your hand for a long moment, before you look up to see Soap still watching you, hope blooming desperately in his gaze, even as he tries to reign it in.

"You damn foolish scot," you mutter, cupping his face and bringing him down to kiss him. "There'll never been anyone else."

Sergeant Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

Ok so maybe this is a hot take but I chose to believe that Gaz is actually already married by the time of COD: MWII. No one knows. Not even Price. He marries his childhood best friend the minute they're both 18, and they've been together even longer.

ANYWAYS

Like I said, childhood best friends, so they were always together, all throughout school, hanging out in the afternoons, sleepovers on weekends, the whole shebang. Your parents and his called it early on that the two of you would end up together, but even they were a little surprised at the speed of which you got married. But, to none of their surprise, your marriage was one of the strongest they'd ever seen.

You knew each other's faults, your likes and dislikes, your pet peeves and your favorite things about each other, it only made sense for you to trip over the line between friendship and relationship sometime around when you were maybe 12 years old.

Even before then, when the two of you were maybe 7 or 8, you made a pact that you'd get married as soon as you could. As a promise, Gaz gets you a ring like this, from a cheap coin vending machine in the local grocery store:

It's a running joke in the family, that he decided when he first saw you that he was gonna marry you, although they don't really realize just how true that is.

On the night of graduation, after you've finished celebrating with your families, you and Gaz are holed up in your childhood bedroom. Your 18th birthday is in a week, Gaz's was a month ago. Your wearing the ring he'd given you damn near a decade ago on a chain around your neck, and his eyes fall to where it lays nestled between your breasts, even as he draws a small box from his pocket.

"Figured it was time to upgrade, eh, love?"

The rose gold band sparkles in the lamplight, and there's a huge grin on your face as you take the band from him. There's a large diamond in the center, but not too large as to be gaudy or flashy. Just enough to make a statement, a declaration.

"In a week," Gaz says, voice hush with anticipation. "Lets go to the courthouse, and I'll give you the matching one. What'cha say?"

"The same thing I said when we were eight, Kyle," you murmur, eyes unable to leave the pretty ring on your finger. "Yes."

Colonel Alejandro Vargas

Alejandro is really damn hesitant to propose, mostly because of how at risk any of his family is with his history of fighting the cartel. Anyone with a connection to him is another way to hurt him, and to ask you to go into hiding, cut off most all contact with any outside friends? He's afraid, he doesn't want you to begin to regret being with him, he's seen the toll being in hiding has taken of the marriages of some of his Vaqueros, and it would kill him to lose you.

It takes you a long time to convince him that even if you don't get married, you're not going anywhere. You love him, and damn anyone who tries to come between that, cartel or otherwise.

The final push for Alejandro to propose is similar to Ghost's. He's working when he gets the news that the cartel has attacked the area you live in, and that there are multiple reported civilian deaths, although names aren't confirmed. He's terrified, and Rudy has to physically push him out of the compound to go, to try and get to you.

When he gets there, no one has seen you, and Alejandro can feel his stomach churning, his heart is in his throat. He was such a damn fool, he waited too long, and now he's never going to get to marry you, to call you his wife, to know what it feels like to wear a symbol of your love and devotion every day until he dies.

He hears your voice calling his name, and the pure relief he feels makes him dizzy with it, his knees going weak. He hoarsely calls your name, and your body slams into his, your arms wrapping tightly around him as if you could hold him together by pure will alone.

The rush of police and other Vaqueros around him fade into the background as he sinks into your embrace, whispering prayers and thanks and words of love in Spanish in your ear, kissing the top of your head repeatedly from where you've tucked your face against the base of his neck.

The next day, the two of you go to a small local jewelers, and pick out matching rings. Your next stop is the courthouse, with Rudy as your witness.

Sergeant Major Rodolfo 'Rudy' Parra

Like Gaz, Rudy gets married young. He marries you shortly before he and Alejandro enlist in the army, because you'd pinned him with a glare one day and said if he died and you were going to mourn as his widow, you damn well were going to be his wife first.

Alejandro is thrilled when he hears, because he'd been telling Rudy to marry you for weeks, ever since he'd aired his concerns. (Rudy retaliates viciously when Alejandro is hesitating to propose to his wife).

He proposes to you with the ring his mamá had been given by his father, which she'd given to him when he told her he was going to propose to you. She'd given it to her son with tears in her eyes and very softly told him that if he got married without her there, no one would find his body.

You laughed yourself silly when Rudy told you what his mamá said, although that laughter cut off when you realised which ring he was giving you. You broke down in his mother's arms later, swearing to her that you'd treasure her ring and love Rudy the same way his father had lover her, and she simply cupped your cheek and told you that was all she'd ever ask.

It wasn't a necessarily memorable proposal, Rudy just coming home one day after visiting his mamá and bending the knee, but you'd prefer it to anything else, because it was so quintessentially Rodolfo.

Interestingly, because Rudy is married through his time in the military, he doesn't know at first that it'd be wiser to keep it a secret. When they find out Valería is El Sin Nombre, he's not quite sure what to think, because she definitely knew about you, and who you were to Rudy, but she never acted on it. It's probably just another facet of the twisted mind games she plays, but he's not sure. He tries not to think about it.

[unicyclehippo]

Hmmm...how about a one word prompt of...Skin?

for @possibilistfanfiction i hope it makes u laugh

//

two

//

every week, superion talks to beatrice late tuesday night. at the end of every call, she asks to speak to you and you let her.

are you struggling with anything? she’ll ask, or what has your week been like? or, how are you, ava? she doesn’t ask that one often because it makes you hang up on her fast. like. what the fuck are you supposed to do? she says your name nicely, makes it sound like she wants to know about you, not the halo, and yeah. it’s a bit much to deal with.

‘we went to the thrift shop,’ you tell her week two, ‘and spent half the money you sent us on clothes. beatrice got new pyjamas.’ from the kitchen, beatrice sends you a betrayed look. you wave at her. you’re not going to tell superion that you picked out boxers for her—black, comfortable—and that you think you’re going to have a heart attack every night because beatrice has surprisingly buff legs, toned, and the first time she came out of the bathroom in boxers you had to put your hands under your head, pin them down with your heavy fucking skull so you didn’t touch her legs, her knees. how knees could be sweet, you have no fucking clue, but beatrice’s knees are sweet, soft in repose and then sharp and strong when she moves and. yeah. anyway.

‘i’ve never bought clothes before,’ you tell superion, and beatrice looks startled and a little sad and you laugh because it’s funny, actually, not sad. ‘i stole the hottest dress from this rich lady’s house—um, borrowed, i mean. they don’t really have high fashion here but i picked up some cute stuff. right, bea?’ beatrice ducks her head. ‘she says yes and also wants to know if spending this money means i’m your sugar baby now. or the pope’s. ow! okay, she didn’t say that but she did throw a pen at me. i’m your halobearer, that’s so rude!’

‘phase through it next time,’ beatrice suggests, and almost smiles when you flip her off.

//

‘hello, ava. is there anything you wish to talk about tonight?’

you have been thinking of things to say all week that’ll make superion hang up on you and so, when you pluck the phone out of beatrice’s hand, you’re grinning. she picks up on your energy and excuses herself to the bathroom.

‘so much. where to start? bea has been kicking my ass in training. i think she’s enjoying it. is that allowed? i thought nuns were supposed to not enjoy things.’

‘i’m sure any and all enjoyment pertains to the pleasure all instructors feel when their student shows improvement.’

‘no,’ you muse. beatrice is for sure eavesdropping so you raise your voice a little and say, ‘i think she’s a sadist.’

the bathroom door slides open half an inch, just enough for beatrice to shoot a forbidding look out at you. it’s undermined by the way some of her hair hangs free of her bun and the toothpaste smeared at the corner of her mouth and she’s brushing neatly and you want so badly to squash up next to her and clean your teeth there with her, in your stupidly small bathroom, so you forget all your nun jokes you’ve prepared and say,

‘all good here, supes. catch you next week,’ and hang up on her.

beatrice is in boxers that show off her knees. her sleep shirt is tucked into the waistband of her boxers, which is so endearing you think you might explode. you press your fingers to her hip and nudge her away from the sink so you can get in there and wet your brush. you do the same thing every night. she ought to know by now. she does know by now. you think she wants you to touch her, to lay your hand gently on her hip and make her space into your space. the toothpaste is minty and froths up as you brush enthusiastically. beatrice swishes her mouthwash. puts her hand on your wrist. you obediently shuffle away from the sink so she can spit neatly into it. 

‘short conversation with mother superion tonight.’

you shrug. ‘tired, i guess.’ it’s half true. you would have happily made a nuisance of yourself but tonight, you just want to brush your teeth next to beatrice and go to bed.

‘am i pushing you too hard?’

you consider the question. tuck your hair behind your ears so it doesn’t get in the way when you bend, spit into the sink too, like beatrice did. rinse. wash your brush, strick it into the polka dot toothbrush holder on the counter.

‘i want to learn. i’ll do whatever i have to do.’ beatrice eyes you like you’ve said something really interesting, which is worrisome because you don’t know what about that was interesting. ‘bedtime. wanna be little spoon tonight?’

beatrice goes pink at the offer and you can’t resist lifting a hand to her cheek, to touch it. she doesn’t pull away, but her eyes go wide.

‘sorry.’

‘no, sorry,’ you say almost immediately. ‘um. i’ll check the front door is locked.’ you run out of the bathroom, through to the kitchen and the front door. thunk your head hard against the wood and swear under your breath. blindly reach for the door handle. turn it gently. it hits the lock and you release it. you stand there for a few long minutes, hearing the sounds of the bedsheets and beatrice shuffling and the click of the lamp turning off and then the apartment is dark and still and there’s a longing right on the centre of your tongue, dry and empty like a wafer sucking the moisture from your mouth, and you want to pick up the phone and tell superion, i want to live. i don’t want beatrice to teach me how to fight, i don’t want you to know my name, i want this to be real. a home in the mountains and a girl who wants me to touch her. 

beatrice pretends to be asleep when you finally join her, crawling into bed and pulling the sheets up to your shoulders. you’re always careful about touching her, when and where you do it, and tonight is no exception.

‘bea?’ you whisper.

‘yes, ava?’

‘can i –‘ you reach over. hover your hand over her forearm.

beatrice shuffles in the bed. the lamps in the street outside are dim and they have covers that keep the light shining down to the street instead of filling the sky. it’s not enough to see beatrice by. you light the halo—the tiniest bit—and her expression goes awed and nervous all at once.

‘you shouldn’t.’

touch her? use the halo?

‘i want to. feels good.’ beatrice breaths out. she won’t say it, and won’t ask you, but when you move your hand to hover over her wrist, sidle close enough to hold her, she doesn’t stop you. ‘g’dnight, bea.’

‘goodnight, ava. sleep well.’

//

‘good evening, ava. i trust you are well?’

‘we got jobs!’

‘beatrice informed me.’

‘of course she did,’ you roll your eyes. catch sight of the brim of the pink cowboy hat still squashed onto your head you had been given tonight as a prize, the only thing you had wanted. it's a little small, maybe made for a kid, but whatever. ‘did she tell you it’s at a bar? she doesn’t drink but she’s killing it at the books. i don’t have the same hang ups – hans is teaching me everything about being a great bartender and it involves a lot of alcohol. i can – he’s german and i drunk him under the table. i think the halo helped. do you – can the halo heal being drunk, do you think? did i cheat? maybe i should give him this hat back.’

‘i will ask you not to test the limits of the halo in this manner.’

‘i know, i know, control the halo, don’t draw attention, blah blah blah—bea already gave me the speech. i’m being safe. it was just some fun, mother,’ you tease, feeling loose and good and happy. ‘the hat suits me, though. it’s pink.’

superion’s smile bleeds into her voice. you grin, imagining it. a smile on that stern face. that’s the best, that’s one of the things you love the most, making people smile, making people laugh, especially when you have to find the right way to come at it. this feels almost too easy? you’re just…telling her about your day and your job and the hat you won but you know that she’s smiling and you’re a little drunk so you decide not to think about whether she likes you or is showing some softer side of herself for your benefit and just enjoy it. 

‘you are entitled to some fun, ava.’

‘tell bea that. and her too. she can have fun too. she doesn’t have to drink, just relax a tiny bit. right?’

‘sister beatrice will attend her duty as she sees fit, you know that. and,’ she adds dryly, ‘i believe she is more likely to listen to you when it comes to relaxation.’

‘what you’re saying is i need to convince her. i need to tempt her.’

superion sighs. ‘drink some water, please, ava. look after yourself. and beatrice.’

‘yeah, always.’

//

there’s a girl who comes to your bar to flirt with you specifically. you know that because she told you, because she pressed her teeth to the pink of her lip and pressed against the hardwood bar, leaning over it to give you a good—really good—view of her chest and for a second you’d forgotten that there was anyone else in the bar when she looked at you so intently. and she told you.

‘you know i’ve been flirting with you, right?’

‘you? no way, this is a huge surprise,’ you’d teased, because she’s been super unsubtle.

the other night, she’d let the condensation from her beer bottle drip onto her chest and asked so sweetly for a napkin and laughed when you went tongue-tied and clumsy, dropping the cocktail shaker. which was fine because it was empty but it had clanged on the stone floor and hans had looked over with this stupidly knowing grin and only laughed when you flipped him off. 

‘sometimes girls don’t know,’ she’d shrugged. ‘and i don’t like to waste my time. you like girls?’

you spin the beer bottle in your hand, because it’s a fun trick and because it makes girls look at your hands. dani is no exception. you haven’t said it out loud before but you want to. should you wait for a special moment? or does the moment become special when you say it?

‘girls are incredible,’ is what you end up saying. it’s not that you’re scared, it’s just that beatrice isn’t here and some part of you kind of expected to say it to her first, the way she’d shared that with you. 

dani doesn’t take it as a cop out, thank god. she grins, big and bold, and tosses her hair back over her shoulder. ‘yeah. incredible. let me take you out, ava—dinner, dancing, drinks. what do you say?’

you should say no. for multiple reasons, but chief among them the fact that when dani used her water on her tits trick, you’d thought about beatrice and what her reaction would be if you tried it on her. probably, it’s a dick move to think about another girl when one is being so kind as to show you her tits. but. beatrice is a nun and dani is not. super not. she’s portuguese and taller than you—most people are, to be fair—and you like that the bar is lifted over where the customers sit so she has to look up at you, but you also like looking up at her and the way she crowds you a little, smirks down at you when you sit a little sluttily on the barstool next to her, hand on her knee. she wears, like, a dozen silver rings and her earrings dangle and glitter when she shakes her head, which she does when you make her laugh really hard, and when you think about kissing her it’s, yeah. good. it makes you a little tongue-tied and you stumble over your words and dani looks at you like she knows what you were thinking about which is. yeah. good. 

you say yes.

//

'—compromising our mission here, compromising the halo, compromising herself—'

'whoa! where does the halo come into this? i'm not whipping my top off for her, it's a date.'

beatrice glares at you. she's standing tall and straight—well, rigid—and with the dark clouds gathering outside the window you're a little worried god will mistake her for a lightning rod, but mostly you're worried that you've actually hurt her by agreeing to go on this date. but then she goes and says,

'this is a stupid risk, you can't just - just--'

and you hate being called stupid so instead of trying to calm her down, you rise up to meet her. 'just what? say yes when a girl asks me out?'

'yes!'

'why not?' beatrice glares over your head, unable to meet your eyes. 'give me the phone.'

'what? no!'

'yes, give me the phone.'

'i'm still debriefing mother s—'

'give me the phone or i'll debrief on my date,' you tell her, and you can feel the anger and spite spitting on your tongue and sparking in your eyes. now she does meet your eyes; hers are black with fury, her jaw tense, and you're doubly pissed because you'd said yes to the date because dani is hot and has this quick flirty humour and because she looked at you like she could eat you up and it's a hell of a feeling to be on the receiving end of a look like that, but beatrice... beatrice is pissed and you're nearly positive it isn't because of the mission, and god, whatever your rules are about thinking nuns are hot, she looks hot with her jaw clenched and the muscles of her neck and shoulders tense like she's thinking about keeping you from the door by whatever means necessary. but she is a nun and you're not an asshole, or entirely selfish, so you said yes to dani because if you can't kiss the girl you like, you should be able to kiss a girl you like. right? 

beatrice flicks a look over your outfit—high-waisted jeans, a shirt that shrunk in the one laundry load you did so now it shows off a decent strip of belly, and a blue sweater tied around your waist that you'd found over the back of the couch, in case it ends up raining—and she scowls.

'fine. fine.'

she grabs your wrist. your skin sears where she touches you—god, is this allowed? is this allowed? i'm gonna be thinking about this tonight in my alone time, is this allowed, dude?—and you open your hand, you'll take whatever she'll give you. you're so startled by her hand on you that you forget to be angry. if she weren't a nun, if she were a little more open, if she liked you the way you like her... 

she drops the phone into your hand. it’s heavy and you nearly drop it, focused on—god forgive you, or better yet, mind your own fucking business dude—her. ask me out. ask me on a date. look at me like you want to push me against the brick wall outside where we work together and kiss me. she must see some of that in your eyes because she drags in a shaky breath and all the anger leaves her. she doesn’t move away. you look at her lips. 

‘ava…’

your thumb flickers to mute the phone. ‘tell me not to go.’

beatrice huffs. ‘you want to.’

‘i’ll stay. i won’t go. if you ask.’

her hand goes to your hip. you want to know how much of her hand can fit there, on your skin where your top rides up. but she doesn’t touch you, even though you’re aching for it, even though she can see that you’re aching for it. it’s like there’s an invisible barrier that blocks her from moving those last few centimetres. 

‘i’m taking a shift tonight,’ she says. ‘hans is sick.’

‘oh.’

‘i won’t be home. after. i’ll be back tomorrow,’ she says hurriedly, before your heart can totally break. ‘but not tonight.’

‘i’m not bringing her home. you know that, right?’

‘it would be fine if you did,’ beatrice lies, and pushes past you into the kitchen to collect her things. 

you let her go. lift the phone to your ear. 

‘hey. what’s the company policy on halobearers going out with girls? also, like, your personal policy. not that it fucking matters, i’m gonna do it anyway, but i suppose i’m curious. lesbians…thoughts?’

beatrice slams the front door behind her. 

superion doesn't talk straight away—ha. you hear a chair dragging on stone and then a creak as she sits. 

'well,' she says, and you forget about beatrice as much as you can because superion doesn't sound angry or disgusted. only considering. and this question isn’t totally about beatrice, it’s about you too, and you don’t care what superion thinks of you, you don’t. but. 'there is nothing written to specifically bar halobearers from dating girls.' nuns, on the other hand, she doesn't say but you hear it loud and clear. 'as for my personal policies... they revolve around, and are cemented in, caring for and protecting my order and my girls.’

‘what kind of protection?’

‘physical and emotional strength is paramount, as you know. if you are being safe, and if it is something that will make you happy, then i have no reason to forbid it.’

you think on that for a minute. then, in a small voice you don’t recognise, you ask her, ‘are you excited for me? can you be excited for me?’ tears sting your eyes and the back of your throat prickles with heat like you’ve drunk hot sauce again, or whiskey, and before superion can say anything, you break in again with, ‘i’m going to be late,’ kind of brusquely. ‘bye.’

//

after dinner and dancing and drinks, all the things she had promised, dani offers to walk you home. 

you lean back against a lamppost and wind your fingers into the lapels of her lilac blazer and tug her forward, kiss her eagerly. the streetlight is almost the same warm gold as the halo, which is snug and silent between your shoulders. dani tastes like coffee, from her espresso martini. she kisses you, bold and unafraid. you’ve thought a couple times tonight about going home with her and you think about it again now, about letting her walk you home, about holding her hand as you let her into the apartment and pushing the same hand down the front of your jeans, into the underwear you bought new for precisely this reason, to where you’re slick between your legs and wanting but–

‘this was fun,’ you tell her, panting just a little. 

she groans. kisses your jaw, your neck. fuck. ‘why does it sound like you’re saying goodnight?’

‘i - well - you’re making it fucking hard -’ you say, and laugh, and your stomach twists a little because if you had said that to bea she would press her lips together and shake her head and the way her laugh escapes as a huff makes you feel like you could walk over oceans, shoot up into the fucking sky. you make that joke in front of dani and she laughs, sure, but then half a second later her teeth are on your skin over your pulse and neither of you are thinking about the joke. which is fair. but while you want dani to touch you, she doesn’t make you feel like you can take on the world. she kiss you again. puts her hands on your waist, thumbs sliding up to brush over your belly. hands sliding up until her thumbs are dipping beneath your shirt, fingers wrapping around your hips, and you feel fucking incredible, delicate and wanted and hot. but. 

‘dani, fuck -’

‘yeah, i know, saying goodnight.’ she sounds pretty wrecked too, which is a huge boost to your self-esteem because all you’re doing is clinging to her but apparently that’s fine. ‘you’re sure i can’t walk you to your door?’

‘if you walked me back, i’d take you upstairs,’ you tell her, and put a hand to her chest, push her gently away. ‘which - i had a lot of fun, but i can’t.’

dani nods. ‘text me when you get home though.’

‘of course, yeah.’

she takes a step back. out of the halo of the streetlight. you rake your eyes over her—she turned up in matching lilac blazer and slacks with this tiny white crop under the blazer and perfectly white sneakers, a few silver necklaces—and it reminds you a little of seeing doctor salvius for the first time, honestly, in her full pantsuit moment, and maybe you have a thing for women who look like they know what the fuck they want and how to get it. 

‘fuck.’

‘baby, i’m trying.’

you flip her off and push away from the lamppost. ‘thanks for tonight. i had a really good time.’

she smiles and watches you leave. you look back when you reach the end of the road and she’s still there, waves. 

by the time you get into the apartment, you’re considerably more drunk than you’d felt when you left the bar. you get the door unlocked, kick it closed behind you, and text dani as you struggle out of your jeans, kicking them vaguely in the direction of the wardrobe.

made it home thx for tonight

she doesn’t answer immediately. which is fair, she was drunk too and maybe she went back into the bar or whatever and you don’t really care but beatrice isn’t home and the apartment is quiet and cold and you’re standing pantless in the middle of the room and there’s a sinking feeling in your gut when you realise that you’re sad. it’s not fair. it’s not fair. 

the phone is hidden away under a loose floorboard, because of course it is. you hear the wood snap as you peel it up. you’re alive and super strong and drunk and it's fine, the phone shouldn't be hidden away anyway, you shouldn't be hidden away. you pull it out, call the only number programmed into this stupid, bulky phone. 

‘beatrice?’ 

‘no, it’s me.’

‘ah, ava. hello.’ 

you climb to your knees, push onto your feet. she sounds fine that you’ve called, totally unbothered. ‘i’m not struggling,’ you tell her. 

‘i’m glad to hear it.’

‘i’m fine.’ 

she’s quiet. you think about her towering over you. i know you killed yourself. you are a coward. you think about her standing in front of you, putting herself between you and harm. you are worthy. you are. 

‘i’m fine,’ you say again, anger hot on your tongue, hot down your spine. ‘i’ve been fine this whole fucking time but you keep asking so, so if you don’t believe me, let me tell you and maybe you’ll listen this time. i am fine. i’m not struggling. we’re hiding away from the fight and camila is in danger all the time and mary is gone and you - you talk to me but you don’t know me! you don’t know anything about me, and i know you don’t because you still think i’m going to run, or kill myself, but i never did, i never did and i won’t so stop asking me about my fucking life.’

‘ava,’ 

‘and stop saying my name! scolding me? poor crippled girl out on the streets—i have a job! i have friends! i’m really not fucking interested in what you think of me! fuck. you’re all the same. you nuns…you think b-because i’m not on my knees, crying and praying that i’m not grateful? i died! i’m alive! i’m grateful. you want me to thank you? you w-want me to learn how to be perfect from bea so that i’m worthy of the halo? so you don’t decide you’ve had enough of me? lighten the fucking burden of me? fuck perfection, fuck worthiness, fuck your god, and fuck your halo!’ you yell into the phone. anger stings your lungs; there’s not enough space around it for all the air you need. 

‘breathe, ava.’ superion’s voice is muffled by distance and the crackling of the phone line and the dizzy swirl of your head. ‘ava,’ she says more sharply. ‘breathe.’

you breathe in. 

‘good. again.’

you breathe in again, til your chest hurts with it. stumble over to the couch and curl into the arm of it, hand on your chest, feeling the trembling of your muscles, the desperation of your body to breathe, to live. 

superion can hear when you settle a little. ‘i am sorry. my questions have never been about doubt.’ you scoff. ‘if you had come to the OCS another way, i would have asked you these things. i would have taken the time to know you. it is not doubt, ava.’

‘then what the fuck is it?’

‘it is care.’

‘fuck you.’

‘ava,’ 

‘no! fuck you. you’re not my mother.’ you want to cry. you want your scars back. you want anything that tells you you’ve been wanted even once, even if it’s that—a sick, dreamy, drowning memory of a twisting road by the ocean, and scars where a parade of people worked to save your life. your skin is blemish free. ‘i had a mother.’ you pick yourself up from the couch. slam through the kitchen cupboards until you find the vodka hans gifted you. you pour a shot into a stripey mug, clear liquid sloshing onto the tabletop. ‘i had a mother and she died and you’re not her. and the nun who cared for me killed me twice, you know. so. fuck.’ you throw back the shot. it stings. ‘you’re not my mother and i hate your stupid god and you don’t get to care about me. i don’t care. i don’t care. it’s not fair. my mum would—i could’ve told her, i could’ve come home to her. hey mum, i went on a date with a girl tonight and it was really nice. but i can’t tell her because she’s dead and you’re a shitty substitute.’

you drink again. and then—because the anger doesn’t feel as good as you hoped it would and doesn’t do anything about the sadness unspooling in your stomach, glossy and tangled like the tape out of a cassette—you twist the cap back onto the vodka and set it back into the cupboard. 

superion says, ‘i’m not your mother. that’s true. but i am here to listen to you, and guide you. and i was unduly harsh on you but there is no doubt in my mind or my heart that you are worthy, not only of the halo but of the extraordinary life you will lead. and i am sorry that you cannot kiss someone and go home and call your mother.’

you’re standing, still pantless, in the kitchen and superion is being nice to you when you’ve just yelled at her more than you’ve yelled at anyone, ever. you sniffle. ‘a girl. kiss a girl and call my mother.’

‘yes. a girl.’

‘that’s important.’

‘i understand.’

‘it’s scary,’ you admit. ‘but it’s really awesome. and - and i don’t want to give any time to people and the church who think it’s a sin, i really don’t. because there are people who think - who have been made to think that it is a sin, that they’re bad and they’re not. they’re really wonderful, they’re beautiful and incredible and good. and i know you have faith in something, i don’t want - i don’t want to disrespect that - you love god and that’s cool or whatever. but if god has a plan for me, it’s shitty and it hurt and it’s not fair and i don’t want - i don’t believe in anything that cruel, i’m not going to and you can’t make me.’ you’re really tired all of a sudden. and very drunk. ‘i want my mum. do you have - you can talk to the pope, right? can he talk to god for me? can he make sure my mum is happy? i don’t believe but i think she did. can you - can you tell me if she’s happy? do you think she’d be proud of me?’

superion’s voice is thick with something you are too drunk to decipher. ‘yes, ava. she would.’ you feel turned inside out. like she’s touching raw, exposed nerves when she says, ‘thank you for talking to me.’

‘had to get drunk ‘n’ sad to do it. hooray.’ 

‘please drink some water and ensure the door is locked.’

‘’kay.’ you shuffle around to lock the door. pour a glass of water. it spills a little down your front but, whatever, it’s just water. ‘okay,’ you say again when you’re done. ‘sorry. for yelling.’

‘you are forgiven. and ava… you are fine. you are good. you do not believe, but i do, that God has made you in His image.’

‘wow. god’s really hot, huh? that’s cool.’ 

//

you sleep. beatrice is home when you wake up, sitting at the kitchen table with a book, a bowl of cut-up fruit, and a croissant. you don’t have a headache—thanks, halo—but your mouth is dry like you’ve eaten a mouthful of fucking sand and when you stumble out of bed to dunk your head in the kitchen sink, drinking straight from the table, she watches you, hawk-eyed. 

it’s only when you stand, wipe your chin with your wrist, and flop into the chair opposite beatrice, stealing a piece of her fruit, that you realise you are pantless. without pants. 

the tips of beatrice’s ears are red. her jaw is tight. ‘please put your pants away when you take them off,’ she says, and turns the page of her book even though you’re pretty sure she wasn’t done reading the last one. 

‘uh. yeah. i will.’

her finger taps against the spine of the book. ‘did you - was it fun?’

‘yeah.’ 

‘good. i’m glad.’ beatrice pushes the croissant over to you. ‘pain au chocolat,’ she says, and you realise that the croissant isn’t hers, it’s yours, she bought it for you because she never buys herself chocolate croissants. you think of her standing in the beautiful, warm bakery after a stupid long shift and buying you a pastry to eat after you went on a date with another woman and she watches your hands for a while as you split the croissant, which flakes between your fingers, smears buttery goodness everywhere. you break off a tiny bit and hold it out to her. ‘it’s  for you,’ she says, shakes her head. 

‘try it.’

she gives in. she gives in, beautiful when she does it. hungry. takes the little piece and pops it between her lips, which curl upwards, pastry melting, chocolate melting on her tongue. there’s a bit of pastry on her lip and the whole room is full of light. 

[handweavers]

just mentioned this to someone but if you want to get into papermaking you can make a mould and deckle for really cheap by getting a pair of matching picture frames from a thrift store/dollar store and tightly stapling a sheet of mesh onto one of them like that's literally all it is. and you can make your own pulp with recycled paper incl newspaper and a used blender that you also got from the thrift store/fb marketplace. and you don't need anything fancy to pull the sheets onto you can use cut up t-shirts or a roll of blue shop towels and they can be reused for a long time.

the amount of craft equipment in general that can be (relatively) cheaply diy'd with no noticeable difference between your diy and a purchased product is much greater than you might think tbh. like as a weaver, new bobbin winders are very expensive ($100 minimum) and electric bobbin winders even more ($300+) so i made my own with some hardware and wood from home depot and a sewing machine motor i bought off ebay for like $60 total and it works and looks just like the ones at my school's weaving studio lol.

[nipuni]

im sure you get this question all the time but how do you go about procuring those amazing outfits? do you thrift, get things tailored, make items yourself? do you buy things as you go or do you search for specific items one at the time? it's just that id love to have a style like yours (but masc haha) and i always wonder how you do it because i wouldn't know where to get clothes such as you wear anywhere, let alone for a price i can afford. and also, now im here, thank you for your amazing art, it always brightens my day when you post <3

Hello! 🥰 I collect pieces from different places that I feel fit the aesthetic I created for myself, kind of like character design, and I stick to certain silhouettes and color palettes that I already know I will feel comfortable in.

In my case I go for structured pieces instead of flowy draping ones, plain colors over patterns unless it's straight lines, earth and jewel tones on the warmer and muted side, medium height heels, gold over silver, etc. All of this makes for safe purchases for me no matter the store or outfit

Most of my clothes I buy from the historical reproduction shops I list under my posts ( I made a list some time ago here and also in the tags of each post as well as in my Instagram )

Some of these shops are on the more expensive side but offer custom tailoring which is ideal and a must for me because I'm built weird 😅 so I try to get my staple pieces there and plan the whole outfit around it before purchasing.

Then you can get the basic pieces to complete the looks from regular stores! stuff like plain shirts and trousers I usually get from places like Zara

I also thrift at curated stores which makes it easier to find interesting pieces (Edwardian revival from the 70's, capes, belts, handkerchiefs, scarves, bags and hats are some of the things I go for) I don't go with an outfit plan in mind for this, I just look around every once in a while and see what I can find and what I can do with it since it's usually very cheap too. I've also found that thrifting for masc clothes is way easier (at least where I live?) for some reason. I go antique shopping for accessories too, hats and pins from the 20's!!

Then the more specific and inexpensive stuff to tie the outfits together I get from aliexpress, (like the clock bags) and for blouses I also shop at lolita stores online sometimes

When it comes to planning outfits I just play dress up in front of the mirror like you see in the videos I make, I pull out a bunch of stuff from my closet and start matching. it helps me see what I'm missing or what colors would work best or which cut or fit creates an interesting look. It also helps you see and remember everything you have so when you are shopping or dressing up to go out you have this mental library and know whether something new will fit in with your wardrobe or not.

I also got a sewing machine some time ago and I'm teaching myself to sew! So far I've only fixed mine and my husband's clothes to make them fit but I'd love to move on to making my own clothes eventually!

I think that cultivating a personal style makes shopping for clothes easier and allows you to invest in pieces you know you will keep without fear of them going out of style and you don't feel the pressure to update your whole wardrobe every year. it's also super fun and has helped me build confidence and feel a lot more at peace with my appearance. I hope any of this helps you 😭 I rambled a lot I'll stop now!! Thank you so much for the kind words!! ❤️❤️❤️

[beautifulbuckys]

For Blue Outfit Days (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

MOODBOARD FOR STORY

Summary: Bucky Barnes loved the gym, but he loved noticed a special someone a little bit more ;)

Warnings: I tried to make this as non-toxic gym content as I could get, some jelaous!Buck, no use of y/n

A/N: Sorry I’ve been writing less recently <3 school has started and it’s been crazy!

Bucky liked going to the gym.

It was a reliable hobby. He could work out; no matter the weather. Rain or shine, he could do something active. It was also a way to socialize. Bucky was still Bucky; anti-social and weird around people. But the environment was overall friendly and constructive. He didn’t shy away from asking for a name or asking for advice on how to sculpt his back a little bit more. 

He also liked the gym because you were there.

He’d never admit it to anyone; he rarely even admitted it to himself. But whenever he watched you walk through those big glass doors, he smiled. In pure Bucky fashion, he always hid the smile. He knew it was there though. You never failed to greet the front desk staff with your friendly grin. You came in at the same time every day, much like Bucky did. You were never a minute late. He liked to call you a woman of routine. 

His favorite thing he observed? Your outfits. Depending on what you were working on that day, you wore a coordinating outfit. Leg day was always the orange bra and legging set. Abdominal days were those bright pink shorts and the large AC/DC shirt. 

Today was a back day.

Just like every other day, you waltzed into the small street corner gym at 4:45 A.M. You stuck to your outfit schedule. You repped the gorgeous purple leggings and tank top combo. 

“Hey man, are you gonna spot me, or are you too busy oogling at the cutie over there to care about me getting crushed by 135-pound weights?” Sam’s grouchy voice flooded Bucky’s ears. The other reason he liked working out? He got time away from work. He refused to use the compound gym unless he was running late or training for a specific mission. Somehow, Sam weaseled his way into coming today. Bucky was seriously regretting it. 

“I’m not oogling,” Bucky muttered, walking behind the bench press to spot Sam. 

Sam laughed, gripping the iron bar that was floating above his chest. “You for sure were,” Puffing his cheeks out, the man began hyping himself up 

Bucky couldn’t stop his eyes from nearly rolling to the back of his head. Of course, Sam would make a comment like that. Yes, you were definitely pretty. Maybe Bucky had a small crush on you. But this was the gym, not one of those online dating apps. “Just lift the damn weights, man,” 

The rest of the workout was annoying. Sam wouldn’t stop picking on Bucky for his innocent little gym crush. Bucky insists he wasn’t staring, but Sam insisted harder that Bucky had heart eyes while looking at you. While Bucky was doing some chin-ups, he saw you chatting with Sam innocently. Or well, for you it was innocent. Bucky knew damn well Sam had an ulterior motive to your conversation. Bucky wanted to gag at the sight of you laughing at the Avenger’s joke and placing your hand on his arm. He was gonna beat the shit out of Sam later. 

“What the hell was that?” Bucky spoke as the pair walked down the small town street. Because of the Avengers’ new location; the closest city was about 45 minutes away. It was small but cozy. A few coffee shops were scattered downtown. A single thrift shop and boutique sat on the same street at the gym. 

Sam chuckled, “What the hell was what?”

“You know what,”

Sam patted Bucky on the back playfully, a gigantic smile covering his face. “I was simply making a friend at the gym, Tin Can. I know that’s hard for you to grasp because you’re grumpy all the time, but some people just enjoy talking to other people. It’s really not a foreign concept,” 

“But you talked to her,” Bucky’s gym shoes grinding against the gravel of the sidewalk almost outdid him in volume. If Sam wasn’t right next to him, Sam probably wouldn’t have heard. 

“Do you have some like weird wolfy claim on the girl?”

“No bu-” Bucky began to speak, almost fully turning to face Sam. Yet, the other man swiftly cut him off before Bucky could finish.

“No buts. You insisted you didn’t have a crush on her. You don’t get to go all jealous mode on me. You don’t own the girl, and you said it yourself. You don’t have a thing for her. I wasn’t flirting. I was simply making conversation with another gym-goer.” The flashing lights from the local diner’s sign were beginning to dim as the sun rose. The early morning gym sessions were much more calming, Bucky thought. It was definitely a plus that he got to see the sun rise after the fact. 

Bucky sighed in defeat. As much as he didn’t want to admit to Sam, he had to. Sam was right. Bucky didn’t own you, he wasn’t your boyfriend or your husband. To you, he was probably just some guy that creepily stared for a while during your workouts. The kind of guys Natasha and Wanda often complained about.

“Okay so maybe I lied,” 

For the next week, Sam insisted on going to the gym with Bucky. The two men would wake up at ungodly hours of the morning to create the perfect plan. Sam bragged he had his way with women. He called himself “well versed” in the “art of women”. Bucky thought that was kind of stupid, and honestly deserved a punch in the gut but nevertheless, more important things were on the horizon. Sam wanted to help Bucky gain the confidence to talk to you. All of the Avengers knew Bucky wasn’t the most social. He was in the 40s, Steve shared how much of a bachelor Bucky truly was. 

Bucky felt insecure about that chunk of his past self he lost. As the team helped him jog his memory, he remembered more about how much fun he had. Bucky loved taking a pair of sisters out on a double date with Steve. Usually, the girls ended up with Bucky anyways, but they had fun. Now, Bucky is at a standstill. He still acknowledged girls as pretty. The difference is that he no longer has the nerve to just approach them. Even now, Bucky and Sam were spending a week at the gym essentially planning and practicing a single conversation.

Bucky didn’t want just a single conversation. 

He wanted a date. Multiple conversations. Bucky Barnes wanted to learn every little detail about you. Flaws, aspirations, passions, and all. He really wanted to woo you off your feet. He knew how to do that in the 40’s. Now, in modern times, he has no idea what modern women are like. He can guarantee they aren’t stunned by the same things. In Bucky’s opinion, silent films don’t have the same charm they used to. 

“Do girls like to go dancing still?” Bucky asked in between sit-ups. Sam and Bucky were warming up for their abdominal workouts. These days were Bucky’s favorites. He usually got to take his shirt off and he swears he’s caught you staring before. 

Sam wiped the sweat off his brow, sitting up on the black gym mats. “Yeah, not like the dancing you’re used to. Music is still really big. Everyone loves music now. Lots of people have apps on their phones and computers to listen to music,” 

“Oh, that’s kinda cool,” Bucky stood up, using the small white rag he had laying next to him to wipe his face. He then leaned over and held out his hand to assist Sam in standing up. Ab days were Sam’s least favorite. The two men had barely even started and Sam was already breaking a sweat.

As the two were walking over to the machines, Sam’s face suddenly lit up. It looked like what Tony would call a ‘lightbulb moment’. “I’ve got just the idea, Bucky!”

“What’s that?”

“Remember how I was talking about music apps?” Sam questioned, waiting to continue until Bucky warily nodded his head. Bucky’s hair bounced with the head movement. “Well, a lot of apps have a playlist feature. Playlists are basically like albums or records, but people make them. Like it’s a compilation of songs by different artists that someone likes. A lot of people make them to fit certain moods. So if they’re sad, they can listen to their sad song playlist!”

A small smile found it’s way on Bucky’s face, “That’s not a half bad idea, bird man,” 

Right after Sam and Bucky’s workout, Bucky instantly went to the computer. Unlike other things, Bucky wasn’t shy to admit he was out of touch with modern times. All the music he missed was frankly overwhelming. 

So he decided he’d stick to what he knew. 

Bucky was quick to create a Spotify profile. Sam had taught him the basics of making a profile, so he was semi-knowledgeable. Sam also told Bucky how playlists were sharable. So when Bucky tells you that he made you a playlist, he’ll need to share it with you! Both Bucky and Sam found that to be the perfect segway into getting your phone number. It was a foolproof plan. Bucky sped to making a playlist, which he titles “For Blue Outfit Days”. He figured the title would be a conversation starter. He knew you wore the blue outfit on chest days, which is the day he noticed you disliked the most. You always had a scowl on your face while doing any chest workout. It was a hard detail to miss.

Your chest day playlist, kindly created by Bucky, included Frank Sinatra, Doris Day, and more. He chose songs he was familiar with but gave a comforting yet motivating vibe that you could use during the workouts you were struggling with. 

Today was the day.

Bucky was up far earlier than he is normally for gym days. He couldn't find himself to be able to sleep. The nerves that built up in the pit of his stomach were too mountainous to ignore. Today was a leg day. For both of you. These were the days when both your workout and Bucky’s workouts aligned. 

Like clockwork, you skipped into the gym at your regular time. Your lovely grey leggings and black shirt proved to Bucky that today was a leg day. You’d eventually found yourself positioned in the corner of the gym, carefully stretching any muscles you could. Obviously, you put emphasis on stretching your legs due to your agenda today. Bucky was already on machines, now focusing on doing some weighted squats to build muscle in a particularly eye-grabbing piece of his backside. 

“Need a spotter?” A sweet voice asked behind him. Bucky quickly set down the weights he had positioned on his shoulder and spun around. It was you. You’d obviously used a machine or something while Bucky was actually working out. You had a soft shine on your face, signaling some hard work. He noted you seemed slightly out of breath. 

Bucky chuckled politely. He wasn’t mentally prepared for interaction yet; but he’d be damned if he were to mess this up now. “Yeah sure, I’d love that. I’m Bucky by the way,” 

You smile, “Good to put a name to the abs,” 

As Bucky began setting the bar on his shoulders again, he saw Sam by the water fountain. A small smirk was sitting on his face. Sam and Bucky agreed Bucky would work out alone today. They even shook on it. Sam forced Bucky to pinky promise. Why was he here?

“So do you come here often?” Bucky questioned as he squatted down, quickly biting his lips. Obviously, you did, what a stupid question. Yet, you laughed. The sound of your laughter motivated Bucky to stand back up; which he did. He placed the bar back where it belonged and turned around. He balanced his weight, trying to appear at least somewhat good-looking.

“Um, yeah, I do. I see you here all the time. You’re usually here with that friend of yours, can’t help but notice he’s not here today. I guess I get you all to myself!”

It was Bucky’s turn to laugh. 

“Yeah, I guess so. Oh, um, while we’re talking. I actually made you something. I promise it’s not creepy, I just think you’re pretty and yeah, I’m gonna stop talking now,” Bucky began rambling, the words spilling out of his mouth a mile a minute. It was like word vomit. He just couldn’t stop talking as much as he tried. 

“Well…what is it?” You asked, deciding to sit down on the mats while this conversation continued. 

Bucky took his phone out of his gym shorts pockets. He wasn’t entirely tech-savvy, that was obvious. He struggled to unlock the device for a few moments before finally getting into it. You peeked up at him, noticing him seriously concentrating on his phone. He slowly turned his phone to you, displaying a Spotify playlist. 

“‘For Blue Outfit Days’, you notice my outfits?” You asked. The fact that he’d noticed was touching, and really sweet. You’d been attracted to the man, and to know that he paid attention to you like that was enough to make you blush. 

“Blue is chest days,” 

“You’d be correct.” 

“I’m hoping I can see you in a new outfit maybe, out to coffee?” Bucky bit the bullet. It was terrifying for him. He was frankly terrified to think of rejection. You had made a cheeky comment earlier about his abs, but what if that was a joke?

You smiled brightly, standing up to lean over the bar in an awkward half-hug. “I’d love to!”

Bucky’s new plan was working. One conversation in the books, and a date on the way. Who knew all he needed was Sam Wilson to motivate him?

[atlasscrumpit]

Hey i have a request that’s loosely based off what just happened on your yandere marc ai! if your up to it could i request the yandere moonboys with reader who is still finding it hard to adjust and they have a few of their belongings from their life before captivity. one day the moonboys just take all those old belongings and get rid of them to replace them with new things because they don’t want reader dwelling on their past, but obviously reader is so upset by this cause those belongings were the only things they had that they felt was theirs, then just some fighting and angst yk

Unfair

You wouldn't admit it but your room was actually pretty nice, Marc had made sure it was completely comfortable for you.

But, even the nicest cage is still a cage.

When you awoke in the morning you groaned and looked down to see where your usual stuffed toy would be there was a green frog stuffed animal.

You sat up and noticed your blanket was gone as well.

You grabbed the frog and went out into the kitchen where Steven was.

"What's this?" You muttered, holding the frog up as he looked at you.

"It's a toy for you, love." He said as you narrowed your eyes at him.

"Where's my other one?" You grumbled as he looked away nervously.

"Marc and Jake thought it would be best if we got rid of your old things and got you some new ones." He said as your eyes widened.

"What! You threw my stuff away! Even my favourite toy!" You screamed as you threw the frog at him, Marc quickly fronted and caught the toy.

"Maybe you should try being a little more grateful." He growled as you felt tears in your eyes.

"Get her back." You grumbled making Marc sigh.

"I can't, love. I'll buy you any other toy you want, but I don't want you having things that remind you of the past." He said as you chuckled dryly.

You ripped your shirt off leaving you half naked as you threw it at him.

"Here have this then! That's from my past too right!" You shouted as he sighed and covered his eyes, he took his coat off and wrapped it around you.

"Baby, you're overreacting. Keep this up and you'll get a punishment." He said as you pushed him away from you.

"Fuck you!" You screamed before storming off.

You went to their bed and grabbed Steven's favourite book, one of Jake's hats and one of Marc's tshirts.

You bundled them up in your arms before you opened the window and threw them out.

"Y/N! Stop!" He shouted as you turned around.

"How does it fucking feel!?" You shouted before Marc grabbed your wrist roughly and dragged you back to your room.

You began to sob and scream trying to get him to let go.

"Stop it! I hate you! I fucking hate all of you!" You screamed before he shoved you in your room and slammed the door shut.

"Fucking calm down and then maybe we can talk! But, carry on and you'll see what happens!" He growled as he dead bolted the door and walked away.

--

Marc inevitably ended up feeling terrible, he didn't understand the emotional connection you'd had to the objects.

After bribing the thrift shop he'd dropped the stuff off at, he'd managed to get your toy back.

When he came back he opened your door to see you curled up on your bed, facing the wall.

He sat down on your bed and rested his hand on your shoulder.

"Darling? I'm sorry for what I did. I shouldn't have thrown your stuff away and been so selfish. But, I got you something." He said as you stayed facing away.

"I don't want a replacement toy." You grumbled as he placed the toy in front of your face.

Your eyes lit up as you grabbed it and hugged it to your chest.

You began to cry as Marc's heart broke.

He carefully sat you on his lap and hugged you tightly.

"I'm so sorry, babygirl. I should've realised how special this is to you. I'm sorry I was so harsh." He whispered as he ran his hand through your hair.

"It's okay, thank you for getting her back." You whispered as you gripped onto Marc.

"That's okay, love. Can you forgive me?" He asked, you nodded a little and cuddled into him.

"Yeah, I forgive you. Only if you buy me more new things." You replied making him chuckle softly.

"I'll get you whatever you want, baby."

[lale-txt]

💗 cute date ideas and who would take you there

a/n: clearing out my drafts as i‘m working on a few longer fics… i think this one has been sitting there for almost a year oops ∑(ΦдΦlll

hitting the beach and building sand castles together ❀ Ace, Roger, Kaido (tries building Onigashima 2.0 but ends up to drunk to finish the job), Smoker (looks incredibly grumpy but is actually relaxed for once), Rosinante (yup… rip that poor sandcastle because he will probably sit on it by accident), Shanks, Page One, Buggy

library date and cuddling up on the couch afterwards, reading each other from the books you borrowed ❀ Robin, Rayleigh, Law, Jinbe, Whitebeard, Izou, Benn

taking a cooking class together only to get banned from it for being a menace to the class ❀ Kid (just a walking menace wherever he goes), Thatch (interrupts the teacher with „well, actually…“ every 5 seconds), Yamato („so you‘re telling me a shrimp fried this rice?“), Garp (shows up 20 minutes late in a funky shirt and eats half of the ingredients raw)

playing Sims together for hours on their PC as you forget time and place and end up making out with the Sims soundtrack playing in the background ❀ Ace, Yamato, Kid, Bartolomeo, Franky

volunteering in an animal shelter together and accidentally ending up adopting twelve cats, three dogs, two guinea pigs and a sheep ❀ Mihawk (got a whole castle for them and his baboons will be happy about new company), Iceburg, Sasaki, Penguin, Usopp, X Drake, Katakuri (he seems like someone who sees a kitten and has to take it home with him)

going to the museum together and seducing you with their immense knowledge on the most niche things or the history of stolen artefacts by colonizers in museums  ❀ Robin, Izou, Law (ask him about his coin collection), Denjiro, Shakky, King, Marco, X Drake, Gaban

going on a picnic in the woods together and getting lost in there for three days straight, accidentally turning it into some kind of survival training ❀ Zoro

going on a picnic in the woods together without getting lost but ending up with a rash from accidentally making out in a bed of stinging nettle ❀ Killer, Rayleigh, Shanks, Oden, Thatch, Yamato, Shachi, Kin‘emon, Whitebeard

going berry picking together and making home-cooked jam of it afterwards ❀ Sanji, Mihawk, Thatch, Killer, Usopp, Rayleigh, Katakuri

going thrift shopping together and picking cute outfits for each other ❀ Nami, Perona, Black Maria, Bartolomeo, Marco (convince him on another shade of purple for his shirt), Franky, Ulti, Buggy

watching the fall of the world government together  ❀ Luffy, Sabo (calls a burning government building „romantic“ and „candlelight atmosphere“)

[starfxkr]

a week in the girls outfits: kitten

inspired by @princessbrunette i don't wanna clog her notifs so ima only tag her in this one but know that all subsequent posts in this series are insp by her!

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monday: this hoe is bullshitting her job soooooo bad. never comes in uniform forreal its just jorts and a vaguely uniform-esq top and just has the vibe of someone who doesnt wanna be there and its because she doesnt! she's the prettiest girl at the cash register though so she gets a pass and the only consistent employee even though she sucks at stocking.

tuesday: what starts out as a day with her best friend gets turned into a mini fishing trip on the boat. packed one sandwich for herself because she didn't plan on being out all day and jj still ate it. spends most the time smoking and day drinking, listening to her mp3 player she's had since 2013--its mostly korn and britney spears. bass pro shops hat is her dads and she decided to make all her piercings the same color that day.

wednesday: what was supposed to be a fun day ended up with her getting shot at and almost arrested because now they're trespassing. the pogues kinda sorta used her as bait because one of the new recruits at the sheriffs dept wants to fuck her, jj was pissed but it got them out because she wasn't wearing a bra under that shirt and it was super thin you can see her nipples.

thursday: revenge time! turns out rafe and his little boyfriend set them up (what a dick) and they just weren't having it. jj picked her up after work and unbeknownst to the rest of the pogues, kitten and jj have concocted a plan of their own. real black air force behavior i fear--combined with her jorts and halter she looks ready to fuckin go. the mask was jjs and he just let her have it. has a massive hunting knife (also from her dad) because jj won't let her use the gun because her trigger finger is worse than his, won't stop chewing gum the whole time because shes anxious as hell but she looks low-key so intimidating in the mask + dark liner combo.

friday: party at the boneyard! she's getting fucked up after the day before and dealing with an old lady yelling at her over campbells soup coupons. she spends the night chain smoking and drinking jim beam itching for a fight because shes still filled with adrenaline from yesterday. pup tries keeping her calm but shes soooo geeked that it doesnt work and jj has to come drag her away. repeatedly gets told not to fight because her skirt is like 3 inches long, fights anyways and everyone gets a good flash of her ass (nobody complained).

saturday: hung over than a mf...needs to spend the whole time recharging which just means beer, weed and pizza. her and jj have a movie marathon and she walks around in nothing but one of his shirts and boys underwear. the scarf is for her hair (iykyk) and her mom cooks ofc because jj will eat them out of house and home.

sunday: preparing for work the next day in her fav lazy outfit: thrifted tank and skirt from a family member. spends her time with her friends, ends up babysitting her cousin the whole day but its cool she just lets her run around at the park. goes running errands with pup when rafe accosts her tryna intimidate her and she has to call jj. day ends with them all chilling back at the chateau.