#sunnis shinis shit

[sunnis-shinis]

I FUCKING FOUND IT.

[i-luvsang]

I LOVE RAINNNN there's a rainbow outside my window

[shatlass]

in the meantime i will work on a jna comp so i dont cry cry cry and throw up

[poetsblvd]

bisous 𖤓 carlos sainz 𝒙 leclerc!reader.

❨ summary. all he wanted was a kiss, it’s not his fault the paparazzi caught it, and it’s totally coincidental that your brother’s going to kill him. ❩

❨ faceclaim. @/claudiamariewalsh on instagram <3 ❩

❨ notes. i had sm fun doing this! though it did exceed the limit i was looking at, becoming a bit long, but i do wanna do a part two to this because imo the charles x carlos beef is gonna be really funny!! i hope you enjoy xx ❩

⋆⭒˚.⋆ instagram.

liked by charles_leclerc and 30,987 others.

yourinstagram. wined and dined xo

view all 11,345 comments.

username when god has favourites 😩

username holy shit

charles_leclerc mon poupette! tellement jolie.

yourusername je t’aime cha xx

username my brother is a dick compared to charles lmao

arthur_leclerc bet you were smelly.

yourusername bet you came out of a gutter.

username now that’s more like my brother

username not carlos creeping in the likes 👀

username girl bffr he’s like 6 years older than her??

username so lol #zaddy

username don’t ever say ‘zaddy again’.

landonorris wined, dined and sixty-nined.

charles_leclerc get out.

yourusername ew you weirdo

landonorris so it’s funny when kevin in the office says it??

yourusername he has rizz, unlike you.

maxverstappen1 real.

landonorris i hate you.

francisca.cgomes so stunning my girl 😻

yourusername love u forever keeks <33

username someone look at me like she does in the third pic 😭

carlossainz55 espléndida

yourusername 🤭❤️

charles_leclerc ???

arthur_leclerc ???

landonorris ???

username lando what??

landonorris felt a bit left out there 🤷‍♂️

⋆⭒˚.⋆ twitter.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ instagram.

carlossainz55 added to their stories.

seen by yourusername and 800,567 others.

yourusername replied to this story.

⤷ mon coeur 🫶🏼

⤷ je t’aime tellement !!

landonorris replied to this story.

⤷ did you wine her and dine her??

⤷ ;) ;)

charles_leclerc replied to this story.

⤷ i bought yn a ring so similar for her 21st!

⤷ what a small world eh mate?

⋆⭒˚.⋆ text messages between yn and charles.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ text messages between yn and carlos.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ instagram.

liked by carlossainz55 and 47,222 others.

yourinstagram sunny days ☀️

view all 24,432 comments.

username SOFT LAUNCH I REPEAT SOFT LAUNCH !!

username carlos crying in the likes lol

username someone check on big bro charlie 😭

charles_leclerc poupette???

charles_leclerc que se passe-t-il?? ( what’s going on? )

charles_leclerc you didn’t say BOYS were gonna be on this trip!!

yourusername is my hair not pretty?

yourusername you haven’t complimented it yet?

yourusername it’s healthier and you haven’t noticed :((

francisca.cgomes you should be ashamed charles_leclerc

pierregasly absolutely sick of you charles !!

landonorris even i noticed her stunning hair! it’s smoother!

maxverstappen1 disgusting behaviour

charles_leclerc ??? no ??

yourusername oh?? it’s not healthier? i’m not pretty anymore?

francisc.cgomes HOW DARE YOU charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc NON poupette desolee

yourusername don’t talk to me.

username me when i dream

gigihadid 😻😻

arthur_leclerc stunning hair btw

yourusername love u tur

username he’s being nice??

arthur_leclerc too bad it doesn’t help the ugly face lol

username nvm

charles_leclerc pick up the phone poupette

charles_leclerc you’re very pretty !! you’re hair is so shiny !!

charles_leclerc we’ll go shopping soon poupette 💌

yourusername okay charlie love u 🥰

arthur_leclerc i want a new ps5

charles_leclerc get it yourself.

carlossainz55 hermosa

username poor boy

username mans desperate fr

username not when she’s soft launching mate 😭😭

⋆⭒˚.⋆ instagram

carlossainz55 added to their stories.

seen by charles_leclerc and 1,678,432 others.

yourusername replied to this story.

⤷ photographer of the year !

⤷ very much thought you were gonna use the pic of me falling.

⤷ love u

charles_leclerc replied to this story.

⤷ girls’ hair get better every day.

⤷ looks oddly similar too tbh

⤷ where’d you say you were vacationing again mate?

charles_leclerc can no longer view your stories

landonorris replied to this story.

⤷ shiny hair 👀

⋆⭒˚.⋆ twitter.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ text messages between yn and kika.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ twitter.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ texts between yn and charles, and charles and carlos.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ instagram

yourusername added to their stories.

seen by carlossainz55 and 986,444 others.

charles_leclerc replied to your story.

⤷ poupette you’ve never done anything wrong in your life.

⤷ i’m not mad, call me please

⤷ desolee bebe

⤷ i have that new chanel you wanted ❤️

landonorris replied to your story.

⤷ so unserious lmao

pierregasly replied to your story.

⤷ charles is going to buy the entire mall y/n !!

⤷ tell him you’re not mad at him

⤷ DONT LISTEN TO KIKA

francisca.cgomes replied to your story.

⤷ tell pierre to piss off

⤷ let charles buy you what he wants.

⤷ omg tell him you want a ferrari !!

⤷ IN PINK !!

carlossainz55 replied to your story.

⤷ mi vida your brothers texting me again

⤷ it’s very weird he’s apologising now??

⤷ he’s asking me if you want a pink ferrari??

⤷ bebita you should have told me you want a pink ferrari??

⤷ with a matching bag okay my love 🩷

arthur_leclerc replied to your story.

⤷ TELL CHARLES YOU WANT A PS5

⤷ LO TOLD ME TO FUCK OFF

⤷ STOP TELLING ON ME Y/N

lorenzotl replied to your story.

⤷ i’m very happy for you mon chou ❤️

⤷ ignore arthur he doesn’t need a new ps5

⤷ he makes his own money.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ instagram.

carlossainz55 added to their stories.

seen by charles_leclerc and 1,410,333 others.

charles leclerc replied to your story.

⤷ who do you think you are buying MY sister a pink ferrari

⤷ you be with her, okay. you date her, okay. but buying her things?

⤷ and a matching bag???

⤷ you piece of shit.

⤷ when i said we were brothers i didn’t mean this!

yourusername replied to your story.

⤷ ma vie 💌

⤷ je t’aime tellement <3

arthur_leclerc replied to your story.

⤷ y/n wants a ps5!!

⤷ brother 😃😃

francisca.cgomes replied to your story.

⤷ you picked up the correct bag for her!!

⤷ she also likes chanel and hermès !!

⤷ you’ll be outdoing charles in no time !!

⋆⭒˚.⋆ twitter.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

❨ disclaimer. i do not own any of the images above, all were found on pinterest, this is purely for fun and nothing is based on real life ❩

[eiightysixbaby]

i’ll be home for christmas

PART ONE: Last Christmas

series masterlist || next part

word count: 5.8k

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: you feel like you’ve been floating through life since eddie left town last christmas. what are you supposed to do when everything reminds you of him, and christmas doesn’t feel the same anymore?

cw: switches between past and present tense, angst angst angst, reader’s nickname is ‘sunny’.

author’s note: i cannot express how excited i am to finally be sharing the first part to this story! i have truly poured every possible ounce of my energy into this and i really hope it shows. thank you in advance for reading, i hope you all enjoy it as much as i’ve enjoyed writing it.

Present Day: December 17th, 1989.

Snowflakes swirl around your face, dancing in front of your nose before being whisked away in a flurry of cold air. It’s not snowing hard — just enough to make Hawkins feel more magical. You stuff your hands into your coat pockets, eagerly awaiting the steaming cup of coffee you’re headed for. Behind you, Nancy pleads with Mike to put a hat on because his ears are bright red from the cold, and of course he doesn’t listen. Stubborn as usual. Steve calls him a little shit, and you roll your eyes to yourself as they bicker. You can’t quite bring yourself to laugh, though, and you don’t turn around to join in on the teasing like you usually would. Your eyes are angled down, watching as your boots press imprints into the dusting of snow that coats the pavement beneath you.

“I always thought Hawkins looked its prettiest when it’s snowing,” Robin’s voice says from behind you, getting clearer as she jogs to catch up to you.

Your shoes scuff against the frosty sidewalk, a little hum leaving you as you glance around at the town center. The storefronts are all decorated for the upcoming holiday, strings of garland and pretty green wreaths with red ribbon hanging on every door. Cheery window displays with Santa Claus and artificial Christmas trees liven up the shops. Shiny red and gold baubles hang from bare trees, string lights wrap around ornate light poles and coil up until they kiss the big red bows that are tied around the tops.

Robin’s right. It is pretty. The snow makes everything even more picturesque, like you’re living in a town inside of a snow globe. This could be the setting of a holiday movie, as far as you’re concerned. You’ve always loved Christmas, it’s always been the happiest time of the year for you. This year, though, is different. The warmth and joy you usually feel every December is gone, left behind on a snowy night last year. Robin senses your sadness, of course she does, because she’s sensed it just about every single time it’s crept up on you over the course of the last 12 months. Ever the empath, that one.

“Hey, I know it’s hard for you this year, kid,” she says, softer now, resting a gentle hand on your shoulder as you walk side-by-side. Her vibrant blue eyes catch yours, studying you carefully. “You know we’re feeling it too. And we’re all here for you,” she adds, nodding in the direction of the rest of your friends.

Steve, Nancy, Jonathan, and the kids all trail behind you, spread out on the sidewalk. You know they’re all feeling the difference of this holiday, too. In their own ways, they’re hurting too. You know you’re not the only one. You almost feel selfish, but you know that’s not what your friends would want, so you try your best to shove it down.

“I know, Rob. Thank you. I promise I’m not trying to be a downer,” you say, taking a shaky inhale. Crisp, cold air fills your lungs, the icy chill almost burning.

“No, hey, don’t do that. You’re not being a downer. We’re gonna have you all merry and bright in no time,” she says with her signature pretty smile, but you feel like she’s trying to reassure both you and herself as she says it.

You hope she’s right. You long to break free from the shackles of the numbness that’s clung to you this entire year. A certain someone’s absence that’s left you feeling hollow.

You reach the coffee shop, holding out a gloved hand to open the door for your friends. You trail in behind everyone, warm air hitting you in a comforting wave, like a blanket wrapping around your frame. The entire place smells like fresh coffee grounds and hints of vanilla, and you inhale deeply, letting it envelope you.

You vaguely hear Dustin and Max arguing about whether hot chocolate or coffee is the better hot beverage, before your ears tune in to the Christmas music playing over the speaker. “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” rings out in the small space, and you feel as though you’ve been punched in the gut as the soothing voice croons through the sound system. What should be a happy, comforting song only adds salt to your wounds, and if you had any say here you’d turn it right off. It reminds you of all of the things you wish you could forget, reminds you that you won’t be spending this Christmas with the person you should be. Longing coils its way around your heart, squeezing tight enough you feel it could shatter.

“What’re you gonna get?” Jonathan asks from beside you, bringing you out of your head as you realize you’d been staring aimlessly at the menu.

“Huh? Oh, um, probably a vanilla latte. Boring, I know,” you give him a little smile, the best you can muster, which he returns.

“Nah, it’s a classic. Can’t go wrong,” he says, walking towards the waiting cashier to go and order.

He orders his drink and yours, paying for both before you can get a word in edgewise. “Jonathan—” you start as you both move to the side to wait for your items.

“Don’t offer to pay me back. It’s my treat, okay?” he insists, giving you a knowing look. It’s his way of trying to cheer you up, to bring that holiday spirit back to life inside of you.

You and Jonathan had been friends for years now, he’d been a part of the group since the beginning, but only in this past year did you become especially close. He’d been such a big support system for you, letting you vent when you needed to and only offering advice when you explicitly asked for it. He’s an exceptional listener, the perfect confidant, and you’re grateful for his friendship. You’re grateful for the whole gang — their warmth and consistent companionship making everything easier for you.

Jonathan tells you to go sit with the others, assuring you that he’ll collect the drinks and bring them over to the table. Coats and scarves and gloves are discarded, hung on the coat rack that’s nestled in the corner right behind the two tables Nancy chose for you all. She sits next to Robin, the taller girl draping an arm over the back of Nancy’s chair, fingertips brushing her shoulder affectionately through her fluffy sweater. You sit across from Steve, opting for the seat closest to the window so you can look out. Max, Dustin, Lucas, Will, and Mike all sit at their own table, animatedly chatting about the Secret Santa gift exchange they’re doing. You giggle lightly when Dustin accidentally reveals that he’d drawn El’s name, the table immediately grilling into him and roaring with laughter.

Jonathan sits down beside you with the drinks and you immediately grab your cup, the warmth from it soothing your hands. You slip into easy conversation; talking about what Christmas gifts you all still have to buy and coming up with a plan for the group Christmas party, discussing your jobs and all of the usual things.

“And so I’m banging on the bathroom door, right? Yelling at Steve to come help me with this customer,” Robin rambles animatedly, her hands flying as she tells a story from work. “He comes out of the bathroom, and the fucking button on his pants pops off. His pants literally fall down around his ankles in the middle of the bakery. I’m peeing myself laughing at this point, the customer is still angrily waving his fist at me—” she keeps talking, you know she does, but your attention is diverted elsewhere in the midst of her anecdote.

A car horn honks outside, making you turn your head towards the commotion just in time to see a van pull up at a stop light outside of the coffee shop. A van that makes your heart feel like it’s plummeted to the bottom of your stomach. A Chevy, a deep burgundy in color with a cream stripe running along the side. You feel your mouth go dry as you’re plagued with a flood of memories. You vaguely register Jonathan and Nancy’s laughter towards Robin, you know you should be laughing too, but your mind is already far away from this moment — transported somewhere else. Back to a year ago. Back to Eddie.

Christmas Eve, 1988.

You hoist yourself up into the van, a smile on your face as you sit down, instantly pressing your hands to the air vents to try and warm them up. You’re buzzing from the party at Steve’s, waving enthusiastically to the host in question as he closes the front door to his house. Eddie had insisted on warming the vehicle up for you while you said your goodbyes to everyone, and he watches you from the driver’s seat as you buckle your seatbelt.

“So, where are you taking me, handsome?” you ask, barely able to contain your joy.

“You’ll see,” he says, giving your hand a squeeze. He shoots you a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes, but you shake it off easily, assuming he’s just getting tired. You know you were.

Snow flies sideways in the beams of the headlights, those big, fluffy flakes that have always been your favorite. You drive past houses decorated like something out of a scene from a movie; rainbow lights coiled around bushes and pine trees, white bulbs lining rooftops and candles glowing in windows. Every door seems to don a wreath with a big red bow, and even some snowmen wave at you with their stick arms, mittens held high in the air.

It’s magical, that’s the only word you could use. Your heart feels like it could burst out of your chest, giddy like a child again. Christmas music plays on the radio and Eddie hums along to it beside you, making you want to grab him and kiss him and just never let go. What you two had going on was unlabeled, at the moment, but the tension between you was tangible. Your seemingly upcoming relationship had become the butt of the affectionate jokes in your friend group, the gang being less than subtle about what they expected from you and Eddie. And they didn’t even know about the kiss yet…

Being with him felt like everything good in the world, wrapped in a tiny package and sealed with a bow. Sometimes he would look at you like he loved you, and sometimes you felt like you loved him. There was no rush, no hurry, no deadline with Eddie. You let things flow naturally, progress gradually as you enjoyed getting closer and closer with one another. You’re feeling like tonight might be the night, like he might finally ask you to be his.

The van drives across snowy backroads, a dense layer of trees on either side. You know exactly where you’re headed now, hands rubbing on your thighs in an absentminded fidget. It’s not long until you pull up beside Lover’s Lake; your usual spot, your special spot. There’s a lonely dock leading out to the water, a dock that you’ve spent many a night sitting at while you gazed at the stars with the curly haired boy. It, too, is decorated for the holiday now, strands of lights twisted around the railings, illuminating the surrounding frozen water.

Eddie puts the van in park, killing the engine before his door swings open with a reluctant creak. You open your own door, only to be met with him extending a hand for you to take, helping you down onto the icy ground. You tug your hat further down over your ears, slipping your gloves out of your coat pocket and onto your hands. Eddie’s grabbed a blanket from the back of the van, tucking it under his arm. You can see your breath with every exhale as your boots crunch through the dirt and grass, walking to the dock with Eddie right in front of you.

The blanket is laid out on the old wooden planks, serving as a buffer between you and the cold, frozen surface of the dock. You gaze out at the vast expanse of the lake, a few lights twinkling on the opposite shore. You reach for Eddie’s hand, giving his fingers a squeeze before just holding them, your gloves providing him with some extra warmth.

“I have something for you,” he says then, taking you by surprise.

“Eddie, I thought we were exchanging gifts tomorrow—” you start, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“This couldn’t wait,” he insists, and his eyes hold an emotion you can’t place.

Is this it? Is he going to ask you to be his girlfriend?

His hand fumbles around in his coat pocket before he finds what he’s looking for, retrieving a tiny velvet box. A dainty ribbon is wrapped around it, tied with a bow on the top, and you gasp a little when you see it. He hands it off to you, watching as you delicately pull the knot loose, setting the shiny ribbon in your lap. You open the box with so much care, a hand flying to cover your mouth when you see what waits for you.

A beautiful gold necklace with a heart pendant rests on the silky bunch of fabric inside the box. You lift the pendant with a finger, noticing an engraved ‘E’ in the center of the heart. The whole thing is dainty, not flashy, not too much, but yet more than enough.

“Eddie—” you breathe, tears pricking in your eyes as you meet his stare.

He looks nervous. He’s not smiling.

“I want you to have that so you never forget me, and how much you mean to me,” he says, scooting closer to you.

He pulls you to him, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I could never forget you, what do you mean?” you ask, clutching the box close to your body.

“Sweetheart, there’s something I need to tell you. And I need you to try and understand,” he says, and the words immediately make your stomach flip. You feel ill, and he hasn’t even told you what he needs to tell you yet.

You close the box, holding it even tighter, as if it could freeze this moment in time.

He pulls back just slightly, enough so he can look you directly in the eye. One hand rests on your cheek, the shockwaves of his touch reaching the deepest parts of your soul.

“I’m leaving Hawkins. Tomorrow,” he says finally, a shuddering breath leaving him.

And that was the moment your whole world shattered.

Present Day: December 17th, 1989.

You’re torn from your memories at the feeling of Jonathan’s hand on your arm, his voice calling to you through the fog you feel floating in your brain.

“Sunny, hey, you okay?” he prods, concern evident on his face when you turn to look at him.

Nancy, Steve, and Robin look expectantly at you from the other side of the table, worried about where you’d drifted off to.

“Yeah, I— I’m fine,” you say, giving a smile that’s less than believable. “Sorry, just… thinking. Lots going on for the holidays, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Jonathan says, squeezing your shoulder as if to let you know he’s here for you.

He gives you that look he always gives you when he knows there’s something you aren’t telling him, he knows you too well. You feel bad lying to him, but you don’t want to bring up Eddie in front of the whole group right now. Robin was telling a funny story. Your friends deserve to laugh, to be happy. They don’t need your anguish. Saving face is the easiest option.

To your appreciation, they simply ease back into the conversation at hand. Your hand reflexively reaches up to your chest, grabbing at the small pendant that rests there. Your thumb runs over the engraving that you know is the letter E, your breath leaving you shakily. You take one final look out the window, the van from before now gone — much like the man it reminded you of.

You end up making an excuse to leave your friends early that day, no longer feeling able to force a positive attitude. You know they must be worried, know that they see through your facade, and guilt gnaws at your insides. All they’ve done is try and try to keep your spirits up, to help you move past everything, and you’re just stuck in the past. You haven’t exactly been easy to help, either. You miss Eddie, but every time he’s called you decline speaking to him. You can’t — certain that you wouldn’t even know what to say and that you’d just cry helplessly into the phone. And nevertheless your friends persist, always there when you need them and always willing to cheer you up. Plans are made with Nancy and Robin to bake Christmas cookies sometime soon — an offer you couldn’t possibly refuse at the way they so excitedly ask you to join them — before you bid everyone goodbye and part ways.

You stomp your snow-covered boots on the doormat just inside of your apartment, kicking them off haphazardly as the icy sludge begins to melt on the ground. You float around the space as you hang up your coat and remove your gloves, hat, and scarf, your body physically completing the actions but your brain residing somewhere else entirely. You curl up on your couch, wrapping yourself in your favorite blanket as you stare blankly at the black screen of your tiny television. The glow of your Christmas tree does nothing to soothe you — where it used to be a comfort, it now feels like a headache. You have half a mind to tear down all of your decorations, but you know it wouldn’t truly make you feel any better.

As if you weren’t sad enough already, as if the past eleven months haven’t been torturous enough, you really can’t get Eddie out of your head now. Seeing a lookalike van to his shouldn’t bother you, nearly a year later. Something so commonplace shouldn’t phase you. You press the heels of your palms to your closed eyes, willing your tears not to fall, willing yourself to forget him and forget it all and leave him in your past. You know it’s hopeless, you know you can’t possibly forget him, and it only makes you more frustrated.

One hand grips the pendant of your necklace, pulling roughly on the chain and making it snap. You toss it onto your coffee table, sobs wracking through your entire body now. Your fingers rest where the necklace once was, feeling the loss of him, something tangible. Laying down on the worn cushions, tears blur your vision as you cry, left alone to remember. And you remember everything.

Christmas Eve, 1988.

Your brows furrow, your brain not comprehending what he’s saying. “I don’t.. I don’t understand. What do you mean you’re leaving?”

“I found a place in Chicago. I can’t be in Hawkins anymore, Sunny, I’m sorry. I don’t… I don’t belong here. I need to go out on my own and make something of myself,” he says, wincing as if it pains him to speak about. You don’t have the grace in this moment to see that it does pain him. More than he can say.

“No…” you say, tears welling up in your eyes as you shake your head furiously. “No, this is a joke. This has to be a joke,” you try to convince yourself, moving to stand. Your chest feels tight, like all the air has been stolen from your lungs.

“Sweetheart—” Eddie says, standing with you, reaching an arm out to steady you when your boot slips on the icy dock.

“Don’t touch me!” you shout, louder than you’d ever wanted to be with him. “You can’t—” your voice breaks, your lip wobbling. “You can’t leave me.”

“I have to. You’ll be better off without me, okay? You have Nance and Robin, and Jonathan and Steve.”

“What about them?” you ask, voice quiet.

“What?”

“What about them? Did you tell them that you’re leaving? Did you tell the kids?”

“I… no. I need you to explain everything, okay? I didn’t want to ruin the Christmas party,” Eddie says, his eyes averting your gaze, shifting on his feet.

“Oh, but it’s okay to ruin my night? It’s okay to ruin my life?” you hiss. Eddie’s visibly taken aback by this, his eyes impossibly sad. You know the last part may have been too much, but you don’t care.

“You’re going to be fine without me,” he says, puffs of fog leaving his mouth with each word against the cold wind.

“What about us, Eddie!?” you cry, your throat raw with the way you scream it. “You’re going to act like this is nothing? Like we have nothing!?”

He doesn’t know what to say. He stands maybe two feet away from you, silent, his figure illuminated only by the string lights wound around the railings to the dock. His silence rings in your ears.

“So that’s it. You’re just going to go away, leave me here and forget about me,” your voice trembles, your feet stepping backwards as you start to distance yourself from him.

“I could never forget about you, I don’t want to forget about you!” he emphasizes, moving towards you. “You’re the only person I’ve told this to besides Wayne! Because I care about you far too much to just go,” he says, his voice breaking as he steps closer still.

“Oh, my hero,” you scoff, shaking your head as you wipe tears from your cheeks.

You turn on your heel and start running towards the van, your heart feeling like it’s being wrung out in your chest. The wind hurts your face, every snowflake that hits your skin pricking you like a needle.

“Sunny. Sunny!” he shouts after you, his shoes crunching on the frozen ground as he tracks you down. Hearing the nickname he’d so fondly given you ages ago — because you’re always ‘a ray of sunshine’ in his words — simply feels like he’s driving a knife through your heart now. “Please, I need you to understand—”

“How could I? How could you ask this of me!?” you sob, your defenses raised high. “I could’ve gone with you!”

“No! You need to be here, you’re happy here! You have friends and family and a job that you love — here.”

“You have friends here. You have Wayne, and you have me,” you say through gritted teeth, sniffling hard.

“I need to go. I need to get away from this town,” he says softly, mournfully. “Please…”

“Take me home, Eddie.”

“Baby—”

“Take me home! I don’t want to be near you any more, take me the fuck home!” you grit, pushing him away when he tries to hold you.

“Okay,” he sighs, defeated. “I’ll take you home.”

The ride to your place is alarmingly silent, your mind hazy as you stare blankly out the window. The happy hugging families and Christmas lights and snowmen mock you as you drive past, every joyful scrap of the holiday feeling like a sick joke now. Your stomach is in knots, your heart breaking inside of your chest with every passing second. You feel like you’re in a daze, like you aren’t even real.

His van finally pulls into the parking lot to your apartment, the snow swirling harder now in the glow of his headlights. It doesn’t look light and delicate as it had before, it doesn’t shimmer the way it used to. It looks foreboding, plummeting to the ground in fast, aggressive streaks.

“Sweetheart—” Eddie starts, and you scoff before he can keep going. Tears slide down your face as you shake your head, your lip wobbling.

“Don’t call me that. Don’t you dare call me that if you’re really about to leave me,” you say, voice thick with the bile that rises to your throat.

“I have to go. I’m so sorry. You’ll be better without me, I’m so sorry.”

“Goodbye, Eddie,” you say, so quiet he almost doesn’t hear it.

You open the passenger door, hopping out of his van for the last time. You’d climbed into this van a mere hour ago so hopeful that tonight he’d make you his, and instead he’s ripping it all away. You chance one final glance at his face, the defeated and empty expression that sits on it. It makes you want to crumble, fall to your knees right there on the snowy concrete and wail until your throat is raw. But you don’t give him the satisfaction, and you slam the door shut instead. The sound of it reverberates in your ears, making your head throb. The little velvet box sits in your coat pocket, your hand clutching it as you walk quickly to your building.

You barely process the fact that you reach your door, that you unlock it and step inside. You only process the hard floor beneath you as you sink down onto it on your knees. Sobs wrack through your body as you hunch over, gasping breaths making your chest shudder. Taking the little necklace box out of your pocket, you stare at it for a moment. Chest heaving, tears streaming down your face, you open the box. You take the necklace out, fumbling with it through your blurred vision. It somehow feels right to put it on, it feels like you need to put it on. It’s the only piece of Eddie that you have.

The pendant rests above your heart, your hand grasping it and clutching it tight. Through all of your anger and your hurt, there’s an unspoken love for Eddie, and there’s a part of you that clings to his gift like it’s a lifeline. Like maybe wearing the necklace could make him change his mind, like you could summon him. And so you sit, still in your coat and your scarf and your hat, curled in on yourself on the floor of your apartment as you cry. Letting yourself feel every ounce of emotion, cursing Eddie’s name for how alive he made you feel and how he’s taking it away in the blink of an eye.

Present Day: December 18th, 1989.

The next morning comes with a blanket of heavy snow, the sun rising over the sleepy streets of Hawkins and making the white powder sparkle. You’d hoped, nearly taken up some faith and prayed that after some sleep you’d feel better. That your problems could be washed away with the morning’s light.

Naïve? Maybe. Probably.

Because as soon as your alarm clock blared in your ears and you opened your tired eyes, you felt honestly worse than you had the night before. You feel as though someone has scooped up your insides, tossing them out and leaving you hollow as you lie in bed and stare at the ceiling.

The promise of coffee and the obligation of work is what gets you out of bed, your head instantly pounding when you stand up. Your feet slide into your cozy slippers as you trudge down the hallway to your kitchen, getting a pot of coffee started before moving to your living room. You go to pick up the television remote when something shiny catches your eye. The light reflects off of a gold pendant, making it sparkle.

Eddie’s necklace. Your necklace.

At least in your sleep you’d been able to forget that you had taken the necklace off. And in your post-sleep still-tired haze you’d been able to remain unaware, if even for a short while. You stare at it for a moment, tempted to put it back on. But then your puffy, sore eyes from last night’s sob-fest and the snot-covered tissues that litter the floor encourage you to leave it off.

All Eddie’s done in the last year is make you cry, so why should you wear his necklace every day? He doesn’t deserve it.

Or that’s what you try to convince yourself, at least, as you stomp into your room and hide the necklace away in your jewelry box. You can’t stomach looking at it for too long, desperately trying not to cry again. You’re not even sure if you have any tears left, or if the reservoirs have run completely dry. Shaking it off, you return to your living area, clicking the TV on and turning it to the news station.

“We sure got quite a bit of snow last night, and we’re definitely not the only ones!” the weatherman says, too perky for this early in the morning. “I was just recently in Chicago and, let me just say, be thankful that’s not us. Talk about a lot of snow!”

Chicago. Your eye twitches at the mention, and then the TV is promptly clicked off. Way to start your day strong.

You were hoping things would improve when you got to work, as your current job could barely even be called a job. Your front-desk position at the school was on hold for the winter break, but this year Hawkins Middle was sponsoring an ice skating event. A temporary ice rink was installed in downtown Hawkins, and you had offered to help run it. You’d mainly been in charge of skate rentals and serving up hot chocolate or coffee, and it was actually really fun most days. Chief Hopper had even been convinced to dress up as Santa, showing up on Fridays and Saturdays to greet the eager children.

Today, though, of course the world has to test you. You can hear kids shrieking and throwing tantrums before you can even fully see them, and as you walk in to the worker’s trailer you hear Vickie, one of the teachers at the middle school, getting royally bitched at by an impatient mother. Wincing, you put a hand on her shoulder when the woman leaves, signaling that you’re here to take over and rid her of misery.

“I’m warning you,” she says. “It’s crazy out there today.”

To make matters worse, on your drive here the first song you found on the radio was one of Eddie’s favorites. You had changed the station only to find another one of his favorites before turning the damn thing off entirely. Then, on the short walk from your car to the ice rink, you’d been walking behind someone who looked exactly like Eddie. The curly hair, leather jacket, white sneakers… it made your stomach turn. You were more disappointed than you wanted to admit when you saw his face and it, of course, wasn’t actually him.

It’s like Eddie was everywhere you went, an inescapable constant.

You just wanted to not be sad anymore. Your heart was tired of hurting, and you truly felt as though Christmas couldn’t be over and done with fast enough.

You try to put on a chipper attitude as you greet families, politely helping them get their skates and giving the kiddos your best tips and tricks for the ice. There’s a larger crowd than you’d expected today, everyone in town seemingly flocking over to grab some hot cocoa and go skating. You expertly maneuver between skate rentals and drink-making, insisting your other helper keeps an eye on the ice rink itself. It keeps you busy, at least, your brain pleasantly distracted by the chaos. In brief moments of downtime, you watch as wobbly children try to stay upright on the slippery rink, parents following close behind with outstretched hands, ready to steady them.

You’re putting skates back in their respective places when the door to the little trailer opens and shuts, a strawberry blonde head of hair lingering in your peripheral vision.

“Hey, Chrissy!” you greet her, setting out cups for the next round of cocoa orders. “How’s break been going for you?” you ask, smiling at her as she pulls off her earmuffs.

Chrissy was one of the cheer coaches for both the middle and high school, and you’d become friendly with her through school events and the like.

“Oh, you know, it’s going fine I guess….” she says, biting back a smirk as she stretches her arms out, hands splayed flat where she holds them in front of her.

You glance down, instantly clocking the sparkly diamond ring on her left ring finger. Eyes widening, you gasp, taking her perfectly-manicured hand in yours.

“No way. Jason proposed!?” you ask, watching as a pink lipgloss smile breaks out on her face and she nods.

Her and Jason had been the it couple for the majority of your high school career, and they’d still been going strong since graduation a few years back.

“Yes!! Can you believe it!? I had no. idea. he had this planned!” she squeals, her ponytail bobbing as she bounces slightly on her feet.

For some reason, it makes your heart feel like it’s about to crack beneath your rib cage. It shouldn’t, this isn’t about you, but the air is whisked from your lungs regardless.

“I— I’m so happy for you,” you say, stammering a little as you try to feign happiness. “Congratulations.”

“You okay?” she worries, her brows furrowing as she tilts her head at you. Her perky demeanor is gone, concern taking over her features.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine, sorry, I just feel a little weird. Haven’t eaten much today,” you lie, forcing a smile on your face. “Seriously, congratulations,” you say again, sighing in relief when she thanks you and walks back out of the trailer, going to check on everyone skating.

You slump against the counter, a lump forming in your throat. As much as you wish it didn’t, this only makes you think of Eddie. Again.

You can’t help but let your mind wander to what could’ve been if Eddie had stayed, if maybe in a couple short years he could be proposing to you. Last December you’d been so hopeful that the two of you would make things official soon, and when Eddie gave you that necklace you were nearly certain of it — for a moment, at least. What if he had been here, in Hawkins, this entire year? Surely you’d be spending Christmas together, decorating together and baking together and simply existing together. It feels like you’ve been robbed. All of your feelings for him have had no place to go, the adoration you boxed away clawing at your heartstrings desperately.

There’s a part of you that’s so envious of what Chrissy has, and there’s another part of you that feels guilty for that. It’s not her fault you’re broken, not her fault you’ve been a shell of your former self for months now. You’re too in your head, and before you know it you’re turning away from the service window, furiously wiping at the tears that have started to fall down your cheeks.

The rest of your day is spent the same way it started — the same way all of your previous days had been spent; thinking about Eddie Munson, and what could have been. If only you could change what happened last Christmas.

taglist: @hellfirenacht @writethrough @littledemondani @prettyboyeddiemunson @trashmouth-richie @succubusmunson @likedovesinthewnd @tlclick73 @mrsjellymunson @idkitsem

[dollfacefantasy]

Meant to be Broken ♡

pairing: corrupt cop!naoya zenin x fem!reader

summary: on your way home from work, you accidentally hit naoya zenin with your car. you believe you're in huge trouble when you find out he's a police officer. luckily (or unluckily) for you, he has a few ways you can make it up to him in mind.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, dub-con, p in v, oral sex (m receiving), degradation, car sex, misogyny (it's naoya lol)

word count: 3k

a/n + tags: comm for the bestie @nexysworld @gor3-hound picture of naoya by @/sso_s__ on twt

Your fingers thrum against the steering wheel as your car glides along the road. You match the beat of the music playing in the background. It's a good distraction for you. It was a nice enough day out, but your mind wasn't as sunny and serene.

You'd had a shitty day at work. You woke up late and got shit from your boss for it. Your computer wouldn't log in, so you had to work at the outdated one towards the back of the office under a drafty vent. On top of that, you had a killer headache. You really just wanted to get home.

The sun was setting over the horizon in the distance, the sky a pretty hue of pink. You take it in while making the turn into your neighborhood. Only a few hundred yards till you could pull into your garage and walk into the comfort of your home. You just have to get down one more street.

You're making the final turn on your route. You can nearly feel the soft fabric of your sweatpants and oversized t-shirt when there's a blur in front of your windshield and a sound thud against the hood of your car. You slam on the brakes as fast as humanly possible, jerking yourself hard against the seat. Whipping the car into park, you sit there for a moment. There was no fucking way you just hit someone. If asked, you would swear on everything that no one had been crossing.

After a couple moments, you unbuckle your seatbelt and get out. Your movements are a little slow, simply for the fact that you're still questioning if this is some kind of joke.

You round the front of your car and gasp at the sight before you. You'd actually hit someone. A man lies crumpled up near the bumper, writhing in pain.

"Oh- Oh my God. Are you ok?" you ask him. You rush over and crouch behind him.

He turns to face you, and your heart drops. His face is stained with scarlet, blood oozing from a cut on his forehead. He's got a nasty scowl aimed at you too.

"What do you think?" he snaps. You're pretty sure you hear him grumble something about how of course it was a woman that hit him, but you can't be sure. Your pulse is pounding in your ears too loud to focus on mumbling.

"Jesus, I'm so so sorry," you say.

"Instead of wasting your time with apologies, you could try helping me up," he says.

"You're right. My bad. Here," you say, offering your hand. He takes it but doesn't stop glowering at you for a second.

You help him to his feet again. Once he's stable, he lets go of your palm and wipes it on his pants. A bit rude, but you supposed you deserved it.

"Are you hurt? Could I take you to a hospital or anything?" you ask. 

You try to sound as sweet as possible. He could be as pissy as he wanted, you were just praying to any higher power you could think of that he wouldn't sue you.

He simply rolls his eyes at your question. Your cheeks burn, and you awkwardly avert your eyes. You notice he'd dropped his wallet on the asphalt, so you reach down to retrieve it for him. Once you pick it up, your blood runs cold. Inside the wallet is a shiny silver star. A police badge.

Panic runs through you. The last thing you needed was a ticket, let alone a criminal charge. Your eyes dart up to him. He's wearing the smuggest grin you'd ever seen.

"Officer. Sir, I am so so sorry. Again, please let me know if there's anything I can do to help you. It was my stupid mistake. I swear, I'm normally a super safe driver," you say.

He chuckles and shakes his head. "It's cute how you little girls try to get out of trouble once you see how helpless you really are," he taunts.

You're speechless. If he was going to be like this, you were truly fucked.

"Don't tell me that's all you have for an apology. I've heard better from a mute," he says.

"I really didn't mean to hit you. Please, I'm just having a really bad day," you start timidly, but he cuts you off.

"Stand up. You look like a bitch begging for scraps down on your knees like that," he says, flicking two fingers to beckon you up.

You rise quickly at the command. You hated obeying a total asshole like him, but he held so much in his hands right now. There was nothing to do but follow along.

"There we go," he says and brings his hand to your face. It runs down your jawline to your chin. He tilts your face around, getting a look at you from all angles. "You're cute. No wonder you hit me."

Confusion flickers through your eyes. "What's that mean?" you ask as non-confrontational as you can manage.

"Well you know what they say: a pretty face or a brain, women don't get both," he mocks.

Now it's your turn to scowl. You can't even help it. The expression shows itself before you have the chance to hide it. Your previous mindset shatters in a matter of seconds.

"I didn't hit you cause I'm a woman. I hit you cause you darted into the street," you say.

His eyes brows raise with amusement, and the urge to bicker with him dwindles inside you.

"Really?" he asks, "Are you high then? Drunk maybe? Those are the only other reasons why you'd make such an egregious error."

Internally your blood pressure rises, but externally you keep it cool. "I promise it's neither. It was an accident. I just didn't see you," you explain.

"An accident? I don't know if I believe that," he tuts, "Before you said mistake. That could imply some intention."

"Accident and mistake mean the same thing," you dispute with a little desperation.

"I don't know... changing your story, cause to suspect intoxication, arguing with an officer. Things aren't looking good for you. I have reason to write you up at the very least," he chides.

"Please don't," you practically beg, "I'm sorry for arguing, but I swear on everything that I'm not on anything and it was absolutely not my intention to hit you with my car. Please there has to be something I can do."

That grin from earlier spreads across his face again. "I suppose there's a few things you could do. Don't think we should talk about them in the middle of the street though."

"Oh um, did you want me to pull my car to the side of the road?" you ask.

"Sounds like a good start, don't you think?" he asks.

You nod and quickly turn around to hop back in the car. Alone in the interior, you let out a shaky breath. You had a feeling as to what was coming. It wasn't ideal, but you guessed it was better than hundreds of dollars for a ticket or thousands on bail. Maybe he didn't get laid often with an attitude like that, and you could make him cum quick.

You drive a little way down the street before putting the car in park again. It crossed your mind to speed off and drive away, but you'd bet your life he had your license plate by now. You let out a final deep sigh before the backdoor opens, and he slides into the car.

"Get in the back with me," he says.

You obey again, opening your door and transferring to the rear seats of your vehicle. You look over at him with a mix of apprehension and annoyance. It entertains him all the more.

"You look like you know what I want," he says.

"I have a pretty good guess," you say, your voice quiet compared to his.

He leans in closer to you, nuzzling the side of your head and taking in your scent.

"You get yourself in this kind of situation often?" he asks before nipping at your earlobe sharply.

You wince and pull away slightly. His hand comes up and keeps your head close before you can move too far away though.

"No," you scoff.

"Good," he chuckles.

Despite his pretty face, everything about this moment is absolutely vile. He teases your ear and down your neck with a mixture of his lips and teeth. Simultaneously, his hands slide up your body to fondle your breasts. He gropes the mounds haphazardly, digging his fingers into them a bit too hard.

"You got nice tits, I'll give you that. Think I should've frisked you first," he whispers, "Maybe taken you back to the station for a strip search. Though then some of the other guys would've wanted a turn, and I don't like sharing my toys."

You scowl and look in the other direction. He was repulsive, but at the same time, some heat was beginning to pool in your belly from the combined touches of his mouth and hands. Though just as you're coming to enjoy the sensations, he takes them away. He pulls back from you, his hand going to the hardening bulge in his pants instead.

"I wanna try out that cute mouth first. I know there's a better use for it than talking," he says.

He's quick to undo his fly and whip his cock out. He gives it a few lazy strokes. It's pretty like everything else on him, the head already starting to glisten with pearly white precum.

He smirks at you taking in the sight. "What're you waiting for? I don't have all night."

Reluctantly, you get on your knees on the bench and lean forward. Your fingers wrap around the lower half while your mouth engulfs the top portion. The salty liquid spreads over your tongue, and your eyes flutter shut.

You hear him grunt from above you. One of his hands comes to rest on the back of your head and pushes you down a little more. You suck him deeper, laving your tongue against the underside of his cock.

"There you go. Take it," he moans quietly.

You tune him out and begin to bob your head. Soft slurping noises come from your mouth. Your hand lazily strokes the base. He was long enough to give you a little challenge but not thick enough to present a real struggle. You pick up a little speed, still wanting this to be over as quickly as possible.

He hums with satisfaction and relaxes against the smooth leather seats. His head tilts back and a low, whiny purr leaves his lips. You give his dick a gentle squeeze and suckle on the tip, letting some of your drool dribble down to his balls.

His hips buck up at the onslaught of sensations, and you gag a little. The noise isn't too loud, but he hears it. His eyes glow with desire at the thought of making you do it again.

His hands find their place on either side of your head. He acts as if he's guiding you at first, but he doesn't have the patience to truly ease you into having your face fucked. Before you can really register it, his hips start to thrust upward. His tip rams against the back of your throat, his shaft sliding between your lips over and over.

You give him what he wants and gag again. Spit seeps from between your lips onto his length. Your eyes water as he forces his cock as deep as physically possible.

"Think your throat was made for this. With lips like yours, it has to be," he mutters.

He keeps going, using your mouth as his fleshlight for the next minute or so. Your nose is nestled against his pelvis before he finally yanks your head off and sits you up again.

You're a bit dizzy when you're upright again. It's a relief to get a full breath of oxygen without the obstruction of him in your throat. He laughs quietly at the dazed look on your face, your teary eyes, and your saliva-coated lips.

"You liked that, hm? Think you needed it more than I did," he mocks.

You don't give him any indication either way. You're occupied with your vision coming back into complete focus.

"Now, face down ass up for me," he commands.

You go to move, but then pause and stare at him.

"In the car?" you ask uncertainly.

"Yes, in the car," he says, "It's cute how you ask that as if you have a choice."

"But- but why? I could make you cum if you lemme use my mouth a little more," you offer, but he shoots you down.

"I don't want your mouth. I pulled you off for a reason. I want a taste of that pussy before I cum. If you know how to give a blowjob like that, you must have something worthwhile between your legs," he says.

It's hard to fight off the heat creeping to your cheeks after hearing that. But you still don't move just yet.

"But someone could see... that's more obvious," you try to reason.

"Yeah? And what's anyone gonna do about it besides live with the knowledge that you're a slut?" he asks.

Just like that, you're really reminded of what this situation is. You flip over and pull down the clothing on your lower half to expose your cunt to him.

A whistle comes from behind you. You feel his hand come up to cup one of your ass cheeks. He drags his thumb up and down your folds, feeling the small amount of arousal that had collected there from giving him a blowjob. He dips the digit inside for a moment before pulling it out again. He just wanted to hear the sweet little noise you'd make. He wasn't disappointed by the whine he received.

"Are you on the pill?" he asks.

"Mhm," you hum.

"Clean?"

"Yes," you scoff.

Your attitude amuses him. It doesn't discourage him from rising to his knees behind you in the slightest. He balances himself on the seats before nudging his tip at your entrance and sliding in. The both of you moan and groan at the feeling.

Your nails claw at the seams of your seats as he sinks all the way in. He grabs your hips and makes sure you can't squirm away. He goes in until he bottoms out, completely wrapped in the warm wetness of your tight heat.

He doesn't give you time to adjust before he begins thrusting. He starts rocking right away, chasing his own pleasure like it's running from him. Your cheek rubs against the leather as he bumps you back and forth. You can tell the car is shaking from his movements, you just hope it's not too obvious to anyone who passes by. Though it wouldn't really matter. Even if they didn't see the car's motion, they'd surely spot the silhouette of the man in the backseat.

"Fuck," he whines, "You're tight. Think this might feel better than that mouth of yours."

You simply mewl in response. His cock was sliding deep, reaching all the little spots that didn't get as much attention as they needed. Your breathing turns to panting which only makes Naoya thrust harder.

"There you go, puppy. I knew you'd like it. This is what you're good for," he says as he continues pistoning himself inside you.

You try to hold in your shameful moan, but it slips out anyways. Your toes curl and your eyes flutter shut, rolling back behind the lids. From above, Naoya continues speaking. You're pretty sure he gets off to the sound of his own voice.

"I could've fucked you right in the middle of the street and made you thank me for it," he grunts, "You would've done it too, you little whore. Knew from the moment I saw you that you'd let me do anything I wanted."

You whimper because in a way, that was partially true. You gasp as you start to get closer. He smacks your ass hard while he continues rutting into you.

"Dumb slut. Not so concerned with people seeing now that you're about to cum, huh?" he taunts.

Shaking your head in agreement, you press your cheek further against the seat. You'd have preferred if you could at least maintain the story that he didn't make you cum, but it didn't seem like that was going to be the case. And honestly at this point, you felt too good to care.

He knows that he's getting close too. He can feel how his dick is pulsing with the need to empty his balls, fuck you full of his load.

He goes faster, gripping your hips strong enough to bruise. He's going so fast that it's like a blur. That's what pushes you over the edge. You clamp up on his cock which in turn causes ecstasy to spike through him and drag him to the finish line.

The two of you cum in tandem, you gushing on his cock and him stuffing you with his release. Even with your disdain for him, being fucked full of cum gives you the warm feeling of satisfaction. By the time he's finished, you're practically a puddle in your backseat.

He pulls out quickly, not caring to let you adjust to the emptiness as you would have preferred. He doesn't rub your back after or tell you that you did good. Doesn't let you curl up to his side or stroke your head. He simply pulls his pants up again and wipes the sweat from his brow.

He glances at your fucked out state. It brings him nearly as much satisfaction as his actual orgasm had, seeing how totally ruined you were.

Patting your ass, he scoots to the door and steps out.

"Have a good night, miss. Make sure you watch out for any pedestrians on your way home," he says, imitating a professional tone.

And with that, he’s gone, leaving you to scrape yourself back together.

[etoiile]

MYSTERY MAN

starring itoshi rin!

synopsis: you decide to go watch rin's football practice for the first time, much to his delight. his teammates struggle to figure out who you are and what you've done to their usually very grumpy rin.

requested by @checkoutmyflow! i hope i did your rq justice ^^

notes: first time completing a request! sorry for the wait >.< ALSO this is gn!reader :)

admittedly, you weren't much of a football fan, even though your boyfriend was a professional college player. you didn't really understand the sport, as you hadn't played it since second grade gym class, but for some reason, you had decided that today, on this sunny tuesday afternoon, you were going to drop by rin's practice alongside a football-for-dummies book to watch and hopefully learn a little about the sport he was so enamored with.

it would appear that they were in the middle of a practice match, as his teammates and him were wearing different colored pennies, and there was someone keeping score on a whiteboard.

you sat down on the bleachers quietly, not wanting to distract anyone from the game. your eyes scanned the field quickly, almost instantly finding rin's unique dark green hair. you tried your best to keep up with what was happening, quickly flipping through your book whenever someone did something cool to try and find it, but it proved to be quite difficult, and you found yourself very confused at the sport's intricacies.

despite your lack of understanding, the one thing you could observe and comprehend was how alive rin looked whilst playing. he was sweating, shit-talking, and scrambling around the field non-stop, clearly very tired, but his eyes had a certain glimmer to them that you didn't get to see often, and he moved around the field with immaculate grace and precision. you watched as he skillfully maneuvered around the field and how he seemed to be able to calculate exactly where his opponent would go. you didn't have to understand the sport to know that this field was a place where itoshi rin shined like no other.

rin took hold of the ball and began dashing across the field with it, his shiny hair blowing behind him. his eyes began darting around the field, his brain taking in and calculating every factor necessary to victory.

his brain certainly didn't expect to see you, his lovely s/o who knows nothing about football, sitting on the bleachers.

your eyes made contact for a brief moment before rin tripped over his own feet and flew forward, making literally everybody on the field stop what they were doing.

a brief moment of silence washed over the field before laughter soon took its place, his teammates jogging over to him asking if he was ok, and what the hell just happened as they howled in mirth.

he grumbled some excuse with red cheeks as he looked away, clearly very mortified. his coach decided to call a break, seeing as everyone had already stopped playing, and he grabbed his water before practically sprinting over to you.

"y/n," he breathed as he came to a stop in front of you, puffing a little from fatigue. "you're here."

you giggled. "hi, rin. i thought i should come watch one of your practices. i want to get to know all the aspects of your life, after all."

he leaned in closer to you to brush his hand against yours as you two chatted a bit. anyone could see the way his eyes softened as you spoke and how his shoulders relaxed at your every move. anyone even being his pretty-damn-stupid team.

in the distance, bachira, isagi, chigiri, nagi, and reo murmured amongst themselves, wondering about who you were - the mystery person mr. im-better-than-you-and-grumpy-all-the-time rin looked so happy to see.

"his sibling, maybe?"

"nah, i'm pretty sure sae is his only sibling."

"oh! what about his parent, then?"

"dude, do you have eyes? way too hot to be a parent."

"his lover, maybe?"

there were a solid 5 seconds of silence before they burst out into laughter once more.

"get out. itoshi rin, an s/o? no way in hell, dude."

"i doubt he could even keep anyone for more than a month. they'd get tired of his attitude real quick and leave just as fast."

"rin-chan probably isn't capable of loving anyone, after all."

despite their adamant denial of your relationship with rin, they could all notice rin's demeanor. he looked happier, more at ease, gentler, kinder, and overall, he looked like a normal person. who were you, and what had you done to their rin?

coach blew his whistle, and they watched as you gestured for him to get back with his team. they then watched with their jaws on the floor as he, itoshi rin, POUTED and SWEETLY PLANTED A KISS on your forehead before jogging off.

they all exchanged looks of pure shock as rin jogged back to them.

they all gave him a shocked look as he raised a brow.

"...what?"

𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐈𝐈𝐋𝐄 ©𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 please do not copy or repost my work on any other site. interactions appreciated! 🤍

[aprilthearcher]

this hope is treacherous [roman roy x fem!reader]

word count: 600 - 700

warnings: ooc roman, perhaps, idk but i wanted (needed) something fluffy after studying for so long. cursing? not edited. english is my first language. i cannot get over this look !!!!!! also not my picture.

masterlist

“Would you ever want a big wedding like this?” 

Such an intimate question coming from him surprises her. She peers at him through her black sunglasses. He has his hands on his pockets, a relaxed stance at first glance; his shoulders moved forwards, curving his back, his head faces the landscape opposite her, as if he was ashamed of the words escaping his mouth. It’s a nervous stance, she deduces after a second, sharper look. Her heart cannot help but to jump faster every time she looks at his pink shirt. 

“I - I mean if you even want to get married,” he continues. “Or are you one of those women who shit on marriage just for the fun of it?”

(Y/N) takes a couple of seconds to respond, wanting to see if he’ll turn his head and face her. He does, then moves his head again to look at the people his mother invited to her wedding with some prick he’s sure is only after the remnants of the money she got from the divorce with his father. He moves his head to, finally, settle his eyes on her. He’d preferred the sunglasses off her face. He’s afraid to dig deeper on the why. He can see she’s getting tired of holding the umbrella one of the organisers gave her — so she could block the Tuscan sun from her head and most of her back — from the way she keeps changing it from one hand to the other. 

“Why are you staring, you weirdo? I asked you a question, it’s only right for you to answer me, you know.” Roman says before taking his hands out of his pockets. He’s about to grab the handle of the umbrella, but changes his mind at the last second; instead, he crosses his arms over his chest to try to cover up the raising of his arms. He realises her dress is the same tone of deep blue that the pants he’s wearing. Roman clears his throat, he feels like he’s about to choke. 

“No way, I mean with all this fucking people? And their ridiculous hats and these ridiculous umbrellas?” (Y/N) gives an answer to the question that’s been pondering over Roman’s mind since that day he got told about his mother’s wedding. Roman found himself thinking — or dreaming, he’s not quite sure — of her later that night. His heart had jumped as the image of seeing (Y/N) in a white dress (was she walking towards him?) and a flower arrangement held by both of her hands appeared vividly on his mind. Roman blamed it on the stress of choosing the future president of the country. 

“So you don’t want to get married.” Why was he asking so much about this? He guessed that by getting his answer, he could finally forget about the vision of her in a white, wedding dress. Now it was even worse. He felt somewhat disappointed. 

“Oh no, I do, but just with not this many people. I'd like something small, in a place where it's sunny but not this fucking sunny. I don't know, I probably wouldn't invite anyone really. just, just yo.. just the lucky guy and I, I guess,” she shrugged her shoulders, averting her eyes from his after almost saying ‘you’. God, she was an idiot. 

“Lucky guy indeed,” Roman whistled before grabbing a glass from one of the waiters’ trays.

They stood in silence watching the guests around them, looking at the other from the corner of their eyes. Roman grabbed the handle of the umbrella from her, making sure it still covered her from the sun, after he heard her mumbling about how it was numbing her arm. She smiled, a contained smile that threatened to become a full grin if she didn’t press her lips tightly. He saw it, but decided not to say anything. A small smirk took control of his face, one that was not mocking, neither sarcastic, but almost adolescent. She saw it when he was looking at his shiny shoes. She didn’t say anything. 

[moonybug444]

toxic!boyfriend connie who does not care!! even starts shit in front of his lil siblings :((

sunny n martin call you sissy🥹🥹n they call connie bubba!! tw both reader nd connie are lowkey abusive | name-calling | really toxic | reader may or may not be a cheater kinda left it at that.

you’re holding sunny’s tiny hand and adding the finally touches to her hello kitty themed nails, listening to her babble on nd on about this ‘cute boy from school’ n how her ‘hairs getting longer by the day’ n how shes just so excited to go shopping with you again.

you don’t mind though, in fact you love it. you’re glad she can pour her little heart out to you every once in a while when you come over. i mean she needs it, she’s technically always around boys. connie’s always got his friends over, n little martin—if not following connie around everywhere like a little puppy he’s at her hip yapping her ear off abt monster trucks and how he can do 3 pushups in a row now and as proud of him as she is, that’s definitely not what she wants to talk about.

she’s got a sparkle in her eye when you give her a cheery, ‘all done, girlfriend!’ and kiss her button nose.

she really does love you so much. she hates how mean connie can be to you sometimes.

no matter how much you try and hide it, she sees right past you. always giving you love filled hug.

connie’s walking in his little sisters room a beat later, little martin right by his side with his wolf plushy in hand. chubby cheeks dusting pink when he sees you. he’s just too darn cute. connies looking down at you n sunny sitting crisscross apple sauce on her frog shaped carpet with little nail stickers n gems scattered around.

“there you are,” he runs his hand over his tanned face, “been tryna keep ‘er all to yourself huh, sunny?” sunny giggles loud at that, popping up cheerfully n stomping over to connie.

“look what sissy did to my nails bubba!” she waves them in his face, cheeks clubbing up even more when she sees him look down at the nails, going into weird big brother mode.

hes grabbing her under her armpits and twirling her in the hair screaming that now shes ‘of the hello kitty royal family’ shes smiling impossibly wider and laughs along with martin and you.

you love how connie’s siblings excepted you almost immediately. moving from first name basis to the occasional nickname and then the sissy title fairly quick.

love how sunny’s always the first one to greet you when you step in their cozy home dragging you along, trying to spend all her time with you.

love how martin is always so much of a ‘gentleman’ to you—connie says you’re his first crush. you cant help but smile at that. ‘he’s always blabbing about you,’ connie’s mocks his baby brothers high pitch voice. ‘when’s sissy comin over connie, i wanna show her my new toy.’ and ‘m’movin away…gonna live with sissy!’

that should be enough for connie. enough for him to stop the name calling around them and the random arguements. turn on his filter at least a little!! but nope doesn’t matter when or where, when connie springer has something to get off his chest.

he’s gonna get it off n not think twice abt it.

>_<

connies laughing. laughing at you. it’s not genuine at all, he’s just trying to tick you off but it sure is working. you feel your face burning with every cackle that leaves his pink lips. acrylic nails digging into the cute mini skirt you've got on out of embarrassment.

he’s been going at it for some time now. you were upset because in the middle of chilling in the living room on the couch with sunny n martin—ponyo replaying on the tv for the nth time, he snuck up behind you, watching you scroll on depop looking at some new bikinis for a second before swiping it right outta your hand.

thinking it was just connie being silly, you ask for it back with a pretty grin on your face and a faux pout on your shiny plump lips.

but why does he look so mean? whys he chastising you for wanting your phone back? whys he embarrassing you and implying that you're a cheater in-front of his baby siblings?

because connie was bored.

‘why ya want it back so bad?’ he’s taking the hand not holding your phone and rubbing over his shabby overgrown buzz, putting on a huge smile for you before making a show of dropping it meanly. ‘got shit to hide?’

of course you don’t! you’re a lot of things but a cheater is certainty not on of them. and you tell him that.

he doesn’t listen though. pushes you down by the shoulders harshly when you try to reach up for your device and tells you ‘and stay down.’ like your some kinda dog or somethin. that’s the stuff that brings tears to your eyes.

>_<

hes not laughing as much anymore now. just letting out little giggles and trying to catch his breath. “you’re a crybaby. over a fucking joke. seriously are you—”

you keep reminding yourself that sunny n martin are watching. that you’re already a sobbing mess and you don’t need to embarrass yourself further in front of them. but all that goes out the window when hearing connie’s boisterous laugh grow louder.

“s’not about that connie! hic you-you dont fucking respect me…!” it’s true he doesn’t. you can tell he’s not even really listening to you right now, scrolling through the insta messages on your phone.

“not a fuckin cheater huh? what’s up with all the boys in your phone then huh slut?” he’s ducking the marc jacobs bag you throw at him just barely. there’s more tears pooling at your lash line. “don’ call me names you stupid asshole!” you're stomping over to him to do..something! you don't know yet, just know you wanna hurt him.

it takes a while for you to calm. connie has to hold you down after you’ve thrown half the shit in his living room at him n delivered one harsh slap to his face and scratching him up a bit. he’s calling you all sorts of names in the process. ‘slut, dumb-bitch, whore’ names that had sunny covering her little brother’s ears. it doesn’t help.

little martin’s brows are furrowed when his little sister jumps at a loud crash—its connie pushing you into the freshly restocked dishwasher, he looks up at his big sister, a pout on her lips and her little fists clenched and tucked to her sides.

connie tells them not to call anyone bad words. and if they do they’re reserved only for bad people. so martins confused.

“s’wrong sunny, big sissy’s not bad.”

>_<

you’re in connie’s room now, sitting on his bed watching him watch you. you look down.

you’ve calmed down but your still crying. connie’s wiping at your face and cooing at you. you feel your nails tighten in your skirt. he still has your phone—satisfied with the mini insta check he did—he placed it in the band of his boxers for now, he’ll check it better later. right now he needs to pacify his baby.

“s’just n-n-not fair hic connie..you take- hic take mine whenever, but hic m’not even allowed yours..” you’re nervous more than you should be, slowly looking up at his handsome face preparing for the worst. he’s already looking down, pulling you further in his lap. making sure to press a few kisses to your forehead.

“dont you ever do some shit like that in front of my siblings again,” he’s huffs, completely disregarding what you said. you wince when he’s tightening his grip on your hips and snarling at you, getting real close to your face, “all because you wanna be a fucking drama queen, you ruin the whole fucking day.”

you’re mad at him, so mad you cant help but start crying. again. you’re telling him how you didnt ruin the whole day..but your brains tellin you otherwise. theres snot coming down your nose when you tell him sorry and how you’ll never make a fuss about it again.

youre getting up heading to sunny and martin who are sitting in the kitchen, waiting for you n connie to come out the room holding hands like always.

but it’s just you with dried tears and a soft pout on your face. you’re bending down in front of them and they’re immediately pulling you into a calming hug.

>_<

you’re sleeping soundly in connie’s bed, pretty french toes peaking out of the big dark blue comforter draped over you. connie took a shower with you after completing ponyo again with sunny and little martin. you felt sleepy so he took you to his room and kissed you goodnight, promising your phone would be next to you when you woke up.

>_<

connie’s in the kitchen fridge door wide open with nothing but his plaid blue pj pants, drinking some of that good flavored coffee creamer n scratching the toned abs on his tummy, fully expecting everyone to be sound asleep. so he’s confused when he hears tiny feet running up to him followed by painless stomping on his sock clad foot. he looks down. oh, his baby brother.

he’s angry. little fist bunching up around his wolf plushy. trying to look as intimidating as possible.

“connies mean!” hes got tears in his eyes just thinking about it, “made sissy cry, s’not like a gentleman at all,” he puffs out. says ‘gentleman’ like ‘ganndleman’ and connie cannot take him fucking serious.

“alright,” he says it with a huff. lifting his wounded baby brother right off the ground, nd on his hip watching him thrash around. trying his best to hurt connie. “quit it.”

it doesn’t take long for the big boy facade to drop when connie’s rubbing his back and turning on ‘ponyo’ yet again. s’really the only movie he’ll watch. they’re chilling on the couch while martins’ sucking his thumb staring up at connie. connie’s used to his baby brothers weird habits. like staring at him 24/7 and gravitating towards connie every time he’s working out.

plopping his butt down on his brothers back when he sees him get in a push-up position.

“bubba why’d ya call sissy all those mean names,” he’s popping his fingers out his mouth, “said s’only for-for mean people..sissy’s not mean. sissy’s nice.” connie’s ruffling his head.

“s’cuz bubbas’ dumb sometimes.” he’s taking a breath. choosing his words carefully. “y’know i make mistakes too. (name) forgives me though so—”

“papa says that you learn from mistakes—”

“i have learned marty—” connie feels his brows getting pulled up.

“why do ya keep doin em them silly!” martins giggling at his brother. he doesn’t know how it’s possible—making the same mistake not once or twice but more time than he can count and still not catching up.

and connie doesn’t either.

[weird-an]

Steve blurts it out, on a sunny Saturday morning, when Billy tries to eat a toast with peanut butter in one bite, only wearing a pair of Steve's pink shorts he's always making fun of.

"I love you."

Billy stands there, in the Harrington's designer kitchen, mouth half opened, a crumb falling out of it. He stares at Steve, blue eyes wide.

"Wa'?" he says, struggling to swallow the toast.

Steve's heart lurches. He knows it's too much, too early, not the right moment, way too sudden - because that what he always does. He fucks it up with all the feelings he's bottling inside him and then, within seconds they get so big and the bottle tips over and all the things he thinks when he's alone flow out, drowning everything around them.

It has always been like that. He wonders how other people do it. If their bottles are just bigger and never pour over. If he has a glass instead of a bottle or he's just shit at handling his emotions.

Worst of all, he doesn't know when to stop. Or rather, he knows he should stop, but something inside him can't. It's covered in a memory of him trying to grab his father's leg and getting another shiny toy instead.

"I love you," Steve repeats. The words constrict his throat.

Billy finally manages to swallow the toast. He looks from the jar of peanut butter to Steve and back. He does this thing he always tries to hide, when his fingers are tapping against his stomach.

Maybe Billy has a bottle too, but he doesn't dare to fill it.

"I'm... You shouldn't," Billy says. It's what he said when they first kissed. When they first had sex. When Steve put a bandaid on a nasty cut that's now a thick scar on Billy's leg.

It's an invitation at this point. A weight lifts off Steve's chest. He hopes Billy doesn't get dragged away by the current.

He wraps his arms around Billy. Billy hugs back, tighter than usual. Billy clears his throat.

"Fucking toast," he mumbles. But Steve sees the tears in his eyes.

"I love you," Steve says again - just because he can. Pours his love all over Billy who shudders in his embrace. Steve presses a kiss on his cheek.

"You're too good for me."

"I'm just right for you."

[skribbyposts]

WIP WEDNESDAY EVERYBODY!!!!!

heres a new fic im working on where Sanji gets his tongue pierced on a dare. it’s zosan ofc but that part comes a little later ✨✨ enjoy the three lines i have written thanks

__________

Ah, shit, is the first thing Sanji thinks when he wakes up, sprawled across the deck and surrounded by his snoring crewmates.

There's a headache pounding ferociously behind his eyes, and he’s still wearing the same clothes he had on last night. Speaking of, he can’t seem to remember last night. It’s not an uncommon occurrence for the entire crew to get piss-drunk and pass out on the Sunny’s lawn (They’re pirates, for god’s sake), but Sanji has never been this disoriented when he wakes up the next morning.

Warmed by the few rays of sun peeking through the morning clouds, he staggers up and picks his way through all the bodies on the floor. He takes a a moment to stretch, and when he yawns, he feels a twinge of pain in his mouth. Strange, but Sanji doesn’t really have the metal capacity to worry about anything right now. He drags his feet to the bathroom to brush his teeth before he gets started on breakfast.

Upon entering the bathroom, he makes the astute observation that he looks like shit. His hair is greasy and sticking up in places, he only has on one shoe, and three buttons are missing from the only casual shirt he owns. In addition, some of his stubble is growing back- he really needs to shave. Great. He sighs and finds his toothbrush from the many scattered all over the sink’s counter. He puts on a pea-sized amount of toothpaste, looks back up at the mirror and opens his mouth, and-

He screams.

—

Usopp is the first one is the first one to come running inside, bleary-eyed and mumbling something along the lines of “What? What happened!?”

Once Sanji turns toward him though, all of his concern immediately disappears and he starts laughing. Hysterically.

Sanji would threaten him to shut the fuck up, but he literally can't. He can barely even move his face now because his tongue has blown up like a fucking balloon inside of his mouth around what looks like a shiny silver bar. In short, Sanji has a fucking piercing. In his mouth. Why, or how, he has no idea- but it looks like Usopp does.

“Oh my god,” Usopp manages between cackles, the fucker he is, “You- stay, just-” he dissolves back into a fit of laughter and rushes out of the room. This leaves Sanji staring at the door with a dripping toothbrush and still no explanation.

After a few minutes, Usopp comes back with a cameko in his hands. “Just know, i had no part in this. In fact, I was sleeping. Yes, sleeping- I was so tired, you know…”

Sanji levels him with a blank stare. “Yeah…” Usopp stammers, “Okaytakethisbye!” He pushes the snail into Sanji’s hands and then scrambles out again.

Sanji looks down at the cameko in his hands, turning it around to the compartment on it’s back. He flips out the screen to the last recorded video, and presses play.

__________

hope you liked this little snippet!!!! the rest will (HOPEFULLY) be coming iut in the next two weeks, so watch out for that!!!

[sunnis-shinis]

how i think it went down

[forlorn-crows]

okay crow i know you picked your choice from miasma's three last night and it was very juicy however i would actually kill to see t4t sunny and swiss with a double ended dildo. miasma is so galaxy brain

swisunny . . . THE multighouls. they're so good together. and very good at sharing.

cunt/clit/dick to refer to the swussy swiss, cock/dick/balls to refer to sunny. we stan t4t in this household.

kinktober day 5 below the cut!

“Fuck, that’s deep,” Sunshine pants, rocking her hips against Swiss’. 

“Feels fuckin’ good,” Swiss agrees. He throws his head back as his clit throbs under his fingertips. “Makes me so wet, unholy shit.” The hand on Sunny’s thigh grips harder as the toy fucks in and out of his cunt, the silicone wet and creamy where it meets in between them. 

Sunny’s hand fists her cock, pumping it in time to their thrusts. She scoots a little closer, gasping as the head of the dildo rubs right against her prostate and sends a spike of pleasure straight to her balls. Her foot twitches where it's hooked over Swiss’ shoulder. “Oh Lucifer, there, right there—”

“Yeah, baby, that’s it,” Swiss breathes. 

“Mmpffuck it into me,” she whines, biting her lip and craning her neck to watch him. “Please, need you to—like that, yeslikethat—” 

Swiss pushes his hips closer, groaning when his hand brushes the underside of her drawn-tight sac and the toy angles inside just right. Slick oozes out from his cunt and drips down the translucent purple shaft. Dripping onto the sheets as he moves against her. 

“That feel good?” he asks in a tight voice, hand circling his fat little dick with more pressure now. 

“Yes,” Sunny hisses. Her head thumps back against the pillows, sweat-damp curls fanning out underneath her head. She arches into her fist and precum dribbles over her knuckles, tacky droplets that stick to her skin and multiply by the second. Every thrust from Swiss makes a soft squelch between them, and Sunshine could tear her own hair out with how good it sounds.  “Fuck, I can hear how wet you are from here,” she keens.

“All for you, bunny,” he grins. 

Sunshine groans at the nickname. It always hits down to the core, sweet and sexy all at once. “Yeah, your bunny,” she whines. She pulls harder at her leaking dick, stomach tensing. Her fist is good, but hearing Swiss has her aching. Wanting. Squeezing her hand around herself just to get that tightness she suddenly craves.

"Fuck, Swiss," she swears. "Wanna—can I fuck you?"

Swiss groans. “Oh.” He folds in on himself, stomach flipping. “Yeah, baby, gonna put that cock in me?”

Sunny gently pulls the dildo out from inside her, hissing a little at the loss. But she disentangles her legs eagerly, shoving Swiss down onto the bed before he can blink and melting their bodies together. Swiss moans as she licks into his mouth, grinding his clit against her shaft as she ruts against him. 

“Lemme fill you up,” she says against his mouth. “Stretch you open.”

“Please,” Swiss whines. He’s about to reach between them to remove the toy, but Sunny snatches his wrist in a sudden flurry of movement. 

“Wait,” she whispers, flashing her fangs in a mischievous smile. “Keep it in.”

Swiss makes a noise between a laugh and a groan. “Bunny,” he drawls, accusing. But he lets his hand fall to the mattress and spreads his legs in invitation. He returns her grin then, running his tongue over his fangs. “Fuck me,” he goads. 

Sunny hums and captures him in a quick, filthy kiss, groaning into his mouth and nipping his bottom lip before pulling back to rearrange their legs. She wines at the way his lips, shiny with slick, stretch around the silicone, inner walls just visible through the translucent material. 

“Motherfucker, you’re hot,” she blurts. Before Swiss can snap a witty retort, she wraps her lithe fingers around the dildo and thrusts it inwards, pushing it in until he keens.

“Oh Lucifer,” he whines, voice cracking. 

“That’s it,” she breathes. She snuggles her cock up against the fake shaft, sighing as she rubs her wet tip through his slick. Over and around his velvety lips to circle at his tiny flushed length. Swiss bucks into it, chasing the friction. She brings the head back down to prod at his entrance, only a little. Enough to make him hiss in anticipation, wringing his hands in the sheets.

And, well, she can’t wait any longer. Her tone shifts to something needier, voice pitching low to a raspy, fucked-out groan. 

“Open up.”

[mar3ggiata]

professional help, c1. 'The Pilgrimage'.

simon riley x original character.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs.

song to listen to when reading this: I think, Tyler, The Creator.

abstract: this is Simon, this chapter is about the time Jude crashed a meeting and started talking about a book or some shit, no one really knows who she is or what she does for a living, she is annoying as hell. don't have anything more to add, honestly. bye.

A year later she appeared on the door of the briefing room. He almost didn't recognise her. First of all, she wasn't what he was expecting when Laswell said someone named 'Jude' was going to drop by cause they had 'something to say'. Fucking weird introduction as well… The captain already knew about Jude, apparently. Had they worked together before, he didn't know. She opened the door and the world stopped. Her eyes scanned the room, she was attentive. She looked smart. No one said a word. She looked exactly like she belonged in every room she had ever been in. She looked like fire. A dark fire, a smoky fire. She was dressed in black, she was stoic. Like someone who works in an office or a law firm. She stood as he remembered her, with her back straight. Between the eight men in the room, no one dared to speak. Yet, she was calm. 'Captain' she was the first to speak. Her voice was low. She had an accent. 'I think Laswell told you I was coming' she continued.

Her accent, where are you from? Southern England? Are you Australian? No, you're way too good looking. Definitely not American English, she sounded posh. She looked like she had just been on vacation in a sunny place. She looked like caramel. She blinked slowly, while the captain approached her, saying that they were in the middle of a briefing and she could wait in his office. No don't go just yet, he thought, I haven't finished. He watched as her lips gently curled into a smile. Not a good smile though, a 'poor man, you really are stupid' smile. She relaxed her shoulders and shifted her balance. She wore high boots. She was tall and slender, she was swallowing the room like a black hole. 'I don't think I made myself clear.' She said. The air was cold around them, like someone opened a window in the back to let in a cold, silent winter breeze. 'I think you want to ear about this now.' She finished. She was still smiling, she looked like reality was whatever she wanted it to be. The captain stood speechless but complied, made her have a seat in front of him. Now that she was sitting closer to him, he had access to more details. She had earrings, lots of them. She was right-handed. She had a tattoo on her left wrist. An arrow?

'I found out something that I believe you could use for your… ', she was trying to find the right word ' …investigation.' Her hair was long and shiny. How can you work in a world of cruelty and death and war? What is your business here? His colleague in the seat next to him glared in his direction, as to say, why is this stranger talking to our captain like she owns the building. At this point, did she own the building? And why is everyone calling you Jude… The captain stood captivated by the presence of the woman sitting in front to him, calm and collected.

'Yes, Laswell mentioned you recently had a session with Amir…' Price was trying to collect his papers on the desk, but she was faster. 'Arash, sir' she corrected him, leaning closer to the table. 'Arash Tehrani'. She slid a folder on the desk in the direction of the captain. A folder with his details? How did Jude have access to those. From where he was sitting, he could see the curve of her nose, and part of her rosy cheek. She looked European. Russian? Swedish? 'There we go, Tehrani. What's his deal?' asked Price crossing his arms on his chest. 'Well, we had a session on Monday, we normally do two sessions per week. He recently requested to see me only once every seven days', she started, but the captain interrupted her, with a look around the room. As he forgot there were 7 other soldiers in the room with them. 'Jude does therapy', he informed them, 'Military counsellor. It's a programme for soldiers who require some… some extra help. Professional help. Please go on.'

So that's what you are, a therapist. You're a psychologist, were you a psychologist when he gave you that ride to your house a year back? Why were you scared back then, why aren't you scared now? 'Yes’, she continued talking, 'we started to have one session only, I didn't think much of it, I thought it was a bit strange considering he really needs therapeutic help, and he knows it.' She paused for a second. She talked like she learned English as a second language by the choice of her vocabulary, she talked like an Harvard professor. Her eyelashes were long, painted with black makeup. She looked down for a second, lost in thought. 'He was stressed. Something was bothering him. He was fidgeting with a pillow in my office, he was stuttering.' She was talking with her hands a lot, making gestures. Her nails were very long, black and pointy. Her fingers were slender and bony. 'I asked him what was bothering him but he brushed off my question, and he usually doesn't do that, he takes therapy very seriously'. Everyone in the room was captivated by her little tale. 'I tried to get him to talk about his situation with his promotion, but that wasn't it. I tried to ask him about his night terrors but he wouldn't speak. He told me…', she reached for her bag, ' he told me he had found this book. To read it, that it would inspire me.' Her voice was solemn. She was worried, she was getting everyone on this little secret of hers. He saw some of his teammates approach the table to see the book. He stood up as well, and so did she. She wanted to remain in charge. She was still very short compared to the rest of the people in the room, yet she had an aura around her. Of power. Of knowledge. She let everyone get a good look of the cover before opening the first page.

''The Pilgrimage' is a fictional and religious novel about revolution and freedom.' All eyes were on her. 'It's about this young soldier who fights for his country, loses his family… betrays his friends…' she said that last part with particular distress. 'He begins his journey in the River Jordan, he says it's the first challenge of the journey… Then he goes all the way through the desert, walks some more and he prays and he ends up in the Persian Gulf. The whole story is basically about him walking and praying until he finds his truth' she concluded, having a look around the men's confused faces. She even looked at him for a second. Does she remember? Her face showed no emotion. 'What stood out to me is that you were recently there, in a town called Al-Jareena if I'm not mistaken.' She stated, the captain nodding. 'You were there to find and kill Mahdi Khorram. The dictator?' she said. Price was nodding, conscious that the recent mission didn't exactly go as planned. Ambushed. His eyes are fixated on the girl. She probably already knew this, since she knew so much. How did she know so much? 'You didn't find him. He got away because he knew you were coming. Am I correct?' She didn't wait for any of them to respond. I hate you, he thought. 'As if someone told him you were coming. You know,' she shifted her balance again on her high boots, she bent over the table to reach the book and open it, 'During his journey the young soldier meets many friends, it's a Little Prince kinda thing.' She quickly looked up to realise none of the present soldiers knew the Little Prince. She resumed, 'He meets friends, but always leaves them behind or kills them in the name of God. All of his friends have English names. All of them don't support his journey. He knows what he's supposed to do, he hears a calling. So you were in the exact same part of the world where the first part of this book is set.' The pieces of her puzzle started to take form into his head, and he could see his companions reacting to her words. 'Your mission goes to shit and you think there's a mole in your base, because all your attacks failed. My patient is just now changing his behaviour and letting me know he recently found this book that tells a tale about revolution and…' One of the men stopped her, 'Are you saying he could be the mole? That he is in contact with the troops in Al-Jareena and he's…' she stopped him again, regaining control of the room. 'He's protecting the leader of his country, yes.'

She was looking at Gaz. 'Yes I think he disagreed with your plan of execution, if you remember correctly he left the briefing room months back when the mission was announced. You told me some of your soldiers weren't happy with the attacks, you were talking about him.' They looked at the captain, she was referring to him. So they had worked together, they knew each other. He nodded. 'He's attached to his country and wanted to find a way to protect it. His family is there. I think he read the book and found the strength to go against the army. I did a little research on Arash…' she started speaking again, he was surprised she was still talking. How much did she know, why was she telling them this, why hadn't they figured it out before her?

He watched her take out of her bag another folder, put it on the desk and open it. By then, the group of soldiers were gathered around her. It was printed CCTV footage, what she had in the folder. 'Your first attack was October 5th. This is my patient on the day before, exiting the base to go to a doctors appointment. You know, the reason he's not deployed is because of a hand injury.' She moved the first picture to show the second and third. 'All the days before your failed attacks, Arash would exit and come back in the span of an hour. October 11th and 23rd. So I drove from here to the hospital, to check the timings' she raised her eyes for a second. Now that she was closer he could see them better, they were green. Light green. 'It doesn't add up, he couldn't have made it no matter how fast he was going. Even got reports back from the doctors, had to pretend I was his girlfriend', she let out an embarrassed chuckle, 'he was never there'. She finished. Price breathed out, a breath he was probably holding in from the moment she started talking. 'It's a pretty bad accusation you're making Jude'. He uncrossed his arms, keeping his gaze on the pictures.

'I know, captain. That's why I did some more research.' She was serious again. She was trying to prove her point. How much proof did she have? Christ, who is she? 'This is his bank statement, now,' she stopped briefly to make sure everyone was seeing the printed page in front of them. How the hell… 'I am not gonna share how I got this. I would like to direct your attention to the three amounts that I highlighted.' She did, in fact, highlight in yellow three recurring payments of 5.000 dollars to a foreign account. She pointed at the paper with her fingers, with her pointy nails. She was a witch. 'He has been transferring the same amounts every month since the mission was announced… When was it announced, do you remember?' she asked, but no one spoke. They did that thing when no one really knows the answer and no one will admit it. 'I'm gonna remind you, it was August 27. Guess when he made the first transfer.' She waited for them to have a look. It was August 28. 'He did it every month since, same day. Same bank account.'

'He's transferring his founds at home for his family or…?' The Scottish man to his left spoke and she finished his sentence, 'or for himself. Cause he's planning to go back and fight for his country.' She was done. It sure made sense, straight out of a movie. Jude had just turned around their mission, with her little earrings and shiny nails. Jude, the therapist. Why was she aware of all this stuff and not them? What the fuck was going on, it felt like the most surreal experience of his life. 'Thanks Jude, I'll make a call, would you mind waiting here a moment?' said the captain before quickly turning away.

She still looked calm. She gathered her things, the folders and the book and put them in her bag. He wanted to approach her and ask her about what had happened a year back. He could, if he wanted to. Make it look like he was asking about her findings. He was Lieutenant, he could ask her. He moved slightly close to her, checking his companions were chatting amongst each other before speaking. 'Do we know each other?' he said. She had to remember him, his mask at least. She looked up at him for a millisecond. It was enough. She had beautiful eyes, beautiful green big bright eyes. She looked at him and she looked like a fox. He could see her makeup on her cheeks he could see her hair brushing off her shoulders, the skin around her nose slightly red, like when you blow your nose too many times. 'We got drunk together in Ibiza and got matching tattoos, I'm surprised you don't remember.' She answered. What? Who the fuck are you, what are you doing here? What kind of answer is that, you can't speak to me like this. He stood silent next to her, she was finishing up packing her bag. She put a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked up again. It was his turn to say something. Should he say something funny? Was she expecting a joke? 'No seriously' he said, he spoke gently, like she was going to fly away if he raised his voice, 'I remember you. I gave you a ride to your house in June I think.' She smiled a little, but she wasn't looking at him anymore. 'Yeah, I know. I remember.' she said. 'What happened back then?' he continued, but his time ran out, the captain was done speaking on the phone. 'That's classified' she murmured. Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised to find out she killed somebody. 'Alright Jude, thanks again ehh…' Price stared speaking, regaining the attention of the group. 'We're gonna keep an eye on Arash and try to find out more… Thanks again' She offered him a little smile and put her bag on her shoulder. Price was opening the door for her. She was gone just like that. A mirage.

'That was intense'.

notes: I did it, there you go chapter one!! so, what’s the deal with this bitch? what happened last year? i feel like a LOT of this fic is just Jude’s life and Ghost is a part of it. she has a lot going on all the time, she's cool as fuck and Ghost just manages to squeeze into her world. ideally, this is set before mwii, we will get to those events in about 30 chapters...a reminder, everything about this story is fictional! everything is invented, none of this is real. if a book named the pilgrimage with the same plot exists then it's a weird coincidence. let me know what you think!!

love, mare.

@ummmmmwat @ghostlythots @sweetfemmefatal @natxpat @chavarriakeren647 @ravenmoore14 @farther-than-pleiades @internallyscreamings @hwromi @atoxicrat @cuti3maddi3 @deafeningkittenblaze @its-celeste @serene-hills @lexidoll12 @poohkie90 @lunatiquess

@warmedbythebody @katzykat @iristhemuse @azkza @keiraslayz @abbyandermine @jennyjencakes @dest-nai @corset-briefs @nutze-kekse @ilytsukiw @b3anspr0ut

@pondsblog @missyouzoe @fallenkitten @bigauthorrascalturkey @bethtay @angelynn-nicole @starluv @stargirlisworld @giyuuslittleslut @impossiblecupcakelight

@rkrivees-blog @ghosts-hoe @kam1snotverysmart @gauky76 @freyjaaasstuff @spicyspicyliving @scottpilgrimvsmyfists @courtney0-0 @shinchanboi

[peri-helia]

It's not Friday but fuck it, WIP Twisters AU

“If you wanted to write a detective piece, you should’ve gone with Lou” Tommy offered, head under the hood of his truck as Taylor buzzed around him. She was getting antsy, which – not unusual when you run with storm chasers, the adrenaline keeps you alive but he’s spent enough time around her this last week to know that the one thing that gets Taylor Kelly’s blood racing is the thought of the story getting away.

When any fucking storm chaser can tell you its much more important that they do. No point in a story if no-one lives to talk about it.

So they’re still in the motel parking lot in the middle of Texas and the reporter who wanted to write about tornados of all things is getting pissy because it’s a lot more making  sure everyone gets a good night’s sleep and that the pressure in the tires is right than she thought.

So yeah, she should’ve gone with Lou Ransone. They’d kill each other, but at least it would’ve made a good story.

Taylor snaps her gum at him. “Lou doesn’t approve of my methods”

“There’s a big surprise” Tommy huffs, just barely under his breath.

Taylor must hear him, because she flicks her long curls over her shoulder with an impatient huff that’s drowned out by the screech of tires as two large shiny red trucks pull into the parking lot. The drivers are a couple of cowboys, flinging the vehicles into the space and coming to a racing stop. The doors of the one nearest them flies open – Tommy catches some bright lettering emblazoned across it before the longest legs he’s ever seen in his life slide out and a pair of well-loved hiking boots hits the dirt.

Who is that?

Tommy’s pretty sure his mouth is hanging open. He doesn’t blame it.

The guy’s gorgeous – all golden. Tanned, thick tattooed arms, those legs, a twinkle in his eye with a wide smile and the plushest lips Tommy’s ever seen.

Then the other guy comes round the corner and Tommy’s knees start to buckle. He’s long and muscled too, but like a dancer. Great hair. Gorgeous, sharp smile.

They cast about for a second before their eyes land on where Tommy’s truck is parked. Then they start. Just. Walking towards them.

Eventually, when they get close enough, the golden one offers another one of those stunning sunny smiles and ducks his head at the still open hood of Tommy’s truck. “Need a hand?”

Yes. Two.

Fuck.

“Hey, Buck. Fancy seeing you here”

Tommy turns, with admirable restraint, to not quite gawk at Taylor, eyebrows raised. Taylor’s smile is shit-eating. Something tells Tommy she just found her story.

[adhd-coyote]

@whiskygoldwings you wanted to be tagged for oc infodumping? Well, I've finished organizing my 212th ocs, but there's a lot of 'em, so I'll just do the one's I have picrews for at the moment!

Tooka

He/Him

Naive but clever

A huge cuddlebug

Favorite type of candy is sour gummies

Secretly a little shit

Lives up to his name in curiosity

Pesky

Gender? What's that? Can he eat it? Mostly uses he/him pronouns out of convenience, but fine with anything

Gold and red wing tattoos stretching across his shoulders, with matching paint on the back of his armor. Plus a tramp stamp reading "Os'ika" (little shit in Mando'a) that he was "forced" to get after losing a bet

Excellent pilot

A mischievous little vent gremlin

Looks like vod'ika, but has ori'vod(/older cousin) energy

Most talented and creative prankster in his battalion, if not the whole GAR

Voted most likely to start a mutiny for fun

Rain

He/They

Medic

Rainstorm themed sleeve tattoo on his left arm

Quiet, gentle, a very soft voice

Honest but not blunt

The kind of medic that talks you through everything he’s doing and praises you when he’s done

They usually send him to deal with the shinies, especially right after their first battle

Chomps

He/Him

“Bite me” tattooed on the back of his left shoulder

Would bite a droid

Fangs painted on his helmet

“Nom nom, motherfucker”

His armor (mainly his vambraces, gauntlets, and pauldrons) is covered in teeth marks

Vent

They/Them

The 212th's other vent gremlin

Messes with Shinies by giggling in the vents and then scurrying away without a word

Likes puzzles, riddles, and the like

Always knows all of the gossip, and can be bribed if you know what to offer

Squirrel

He/They

Mechanic

Hyperactive

Somehow both a math gay and a driving gay

He go zoom, both in and out of a vehicle.

Kneecaps

He/Him

Always goes for the knees in a fight

You’d think this would make him predictable to fight, but nope. He just gets more creative with going for the knees.

Sunny exterior, but absolutely ruthless underneath

Drake

He/Him

Sniper

Right eye is a prosthetic

Snarky, levelheaded, and cynical

Absolutely feral on the battlefield

Acts like he doesn’t care but will not hesitate to verbally (or even physically) tear you apart if you are mean to/hurt one of his vode

Laugh is more like a cackle

Sharp grin and an even sharper scowl

Very observant; an amazing strategist

This is only about half of my 212th ocs; y'all will get to see the rest once I've either made picrews or drawn them <3