#GROSS UGLY LAUGHTER

[lovebugism]

Could you pleaseeee do more single dad!Eddie 🥺

✶ ┄ MAYDAY ! [ stand by me ]

summary: after totally embarrassing yourself at eddie's kid's birthday party, the metalhead single dad from the trailer park shows you his (perhaps equally embarrassing) favorite movie. (2.9k)

pairing: dad!eddie munson / f!reader

tags: eddie and maeve universe, strangers to lovers (eventually), slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love, girl dad eddie munson™, fluff, ugly crying at movies

You never did crack open that bottle.

The one you accidentally brought to Eddie’s kid’s birthday party? Yeah, that one. The glass container sits unopened on the coffee table in front of you, casting amber reflections on the old wood beneath the lamplight. It’s just a silly conversation starter now. You’ve got no real reason to drink it, anyway.

There’s nothing more intoxicating than Eddie Munson’s presence.

Sunrays spill from your mouth when you tip your head back to laugh. You turn to look at the boy on the other end of the couch, and your warm cheek squishes against the cushion. “Stand By Me is not your favorite movie!” you argue, giggling softly with disbelief.

Eddie has no idea how big he’s smiling. He’s too busy staring at you to notice the beam on his face. 

He shrugs his shoulders, now free from the confines of his leather jacket. He wears a faded Peanuts shirt now. A hand-me-down, you figure. “I mean… Land Before Time is a really close second,” he answers in a teasing lilt.

“Oh, yeah. Only the saddest movie ever made.”

“Maeve used to love it. And, like, not in a normal way— She used to make me play it for her until the tape spun out,” Eddie tells you, chuckling softly to himself. “It grew on me eventually, but… Then she grew out of it.”

You watch him get all forlorn at the thought. You meet his subtle pout with a scrunched nose. “Well, she’s only four, right? Surely, she hasn’t had time to grow out of much.”

Eddie scoffs and slouches further on the couch until his thighs spread. “You’d be surprised. Every time I think I— you know— start to understand her a little bit or whatever, she just… She changes, you know? Like, overnight.”

He doesn’t mean to get so suddenly sentimental about the whole thing. Especially not in front of a pretty girl he only met eight hours ago. He’ll blame it on the late night and the existential dread that always comes with birthdays. He conceals his brooding behind a dumb joke.

“I mean, just this morning, Maeve’s favorite animal was a Hefflelump… Now it’s a blobfish.”

You try to hold back your laughter. You fail. The sunshine-coated giggle sputters from your mouth despite your attempts to keep it hidden. Eddie only laughs because you are.

“I should’ve said turtle or something,” you humor with a roll of your eyes, tucking your knees to your chest. “Or, like, a badger. Maybe then I wouldn’t have gotten made fun of all day.”

“Those aren’t any less normal,” Eddie chuckles with a lopsided grin, dark chocolate eyes twinkling ‘cause he never really liked normal anyway.

You shrug. “Agree to disagree.”

“You wanna know something?” he blurts after a long beat of silent smiles. “When I tucked her in, she made me promise to take her to the aquarium tomorrow. Said she wanted to see ‘if the blobfish were just as gross in real life.’

You smile so wide your eyes squint at the edges. “Do they have blobfish at the aquarium?” you laugh.

Eddie shrugs. “Probably not. But she’ll get to pet a stingray or somethin’. Then she’ll forget all about it.”

“Sounds fun…” you murmur, picking at pills of cotton on the old couch with a suddenly anxious hand. 

“Yeah. Parenting always is,” Eddie hums with a distant smile. “Even when it isn’t.”

“Should I— Should I, like, go?” you stammer.

The boy seems shocked by your question. His fluffy brows pinch as he hums. “Huh?”

You squirm, less than comfortable in your own skin. “Well, I mean, it’s… It’s getting kinda late and everything, and… If you guys are going into the city in the morning, I don’t wanna, like, keep you or whatever—”

Suddenly anxious, Eddie sits up a little straighter. “No! No, it’s okay. I don’t mind,” he responds, then quickly follows with wide eyes. “Unless— Unless you want to leave—”

“I don’t!” you answer, equally flustered.

Eddie forces an awkward chuckle. “I don’t want you to think I’m, like, keeping you hostage here or something—”

“I just don’t wanna overstay my welcome—”

“You couldn’t,” he insists.

You nod, and in a mousy voice, you reply, “Well, you couldn’t keep me hostage, so…”

Eddie grins. “Good.”

“Good,” you echo.

“So… Wanna watch a movie or something?” he offers with a fluttering heart and fidgeting hands. 

He feels like a teenage boy all over again — only he never actually got the opportunity to ask a pretty girl out when he was a teenager. People weren’t exactly fighting to spend time with the local freak back then. Or now, really.

Except you.

“Whaddaya got?”

“Well, let’s see…” he says, grunting as he rises from the couch. 

Eddie walks the short distance to the box television across the room — which Maeve has carefully decorated with a collection of sparkly stickers. He sorts through the VHS tapes stacked in less-than-organized piles with a ringed hand, realizing must’ve left all the good stuff at Wayne’s.

“Oh, you know… All the Maeve Munson favorites…” he singsongs with a sigh.

“Surprise me,” you call from the couch.

Eddie rises then, with two bulky VHSs clutched within ringed fingers. He holds them on either side of his face and grins between them. “Stand By Me or Land Before Time?”

“Stand By Me,” you answer with a firm nod. “Unless, you know, you wanna see me ugly cry.”

“That’s second date territory,” he quips with a wink, suddenly and very uncharacteristically cool. “Stand By Me it is.”

—————

You’re crying on a stranger’s couch about ninety minutes later. 

The credits roll in static colors on the tiny television across from you. The low bass of a nostalgic song floats quietly through the living room — If the sky, that we look upon, should tumble and fall… Or the mountains, should crumble to the sea…

Eddie looks on with a sympathetic beam as you hide your teary face behind your palms. He can’t tell if you’re shaking from sobs or from laughter. Maybe a healthy mixture of both. “I thought you weren’t gonna cry!” he chuckles.

You peek at him through your fingers. Your eyes are glassy with tears and squinting at the edges with a smile. “I forgot how sad it was!” you sniffle, then laugh at yourself.

I won’t cry, I won’t cry… No, I won’t shed a tear…

“You’re crying, too!” you observe as the boy beside you wipes at his eyes with his fingertips. You reach over to shove him with a playful hand. “You big softy!”

Eddie scoffs and swipes his nose with the back of his wrist. “I’m not crying! I’m just… I had something in my eye.”

“Tears?” you tease with a scrunched nose.

He nods, and with a sheepish look in his eyes, he says, “Yeah…”

Your quiet laughter entwines, filling the dim living room with something sparkly and golden. The sound of violins swells in a similar way. Eddie’s eyes flutter shut as he begins singing the lyrics to himself, not really trying but sounding pretty anyway.

“Just as long, as you stand, stand by me…” he croons quietly. You beam and sing softly along with him, audibly less serious about the whole thing. “And darlin’! Darlin’! Stand by me… Oh, stand by me—”

Both of you quieten when a door squeaks about open down the hall. The distant screech is followed by the patter of tiny footsteps. Eddie huffs and sits up a little straighter. “Ah, shit…”

Your face floods with horror. “Was I too loud?” you whisper.

“No. It’s just midnight,” he answers, shaking his wild head. “She always wakes up at midnight. Like my personal little Gremlin.”

Maeve appears in the dark hallway then, drowning in one of her dad’s old t-shirts. Corroded Coffin, the front of it reads, in what seems to be hand-made lettering. The thing fits her like a gown. 

Her curls sit in an untamed halo around her head from the intensity of her slumber. She rubs at her swollen eyes with chubby fists. Eddie can’t help but grin at the sight of her. 

“Hey, Mayday,” he coos. “What happened? You can’t sleep?”

The girl shuffles to her father like it’s muscle memory to her. Still half-asleep, she grips his shirt with graceless fingers and climbs onto his lap with her eyes still shut. She cuddles into his torso, fitting perfectly there, while you sit frozen on the other side of the couch. Like maybe if you’re real still, she won’t notice you’re there.

“We gonna go see da blobfish now?” she wonders in tiny slurs against his chest.

Eddie’s cheek squishes against her head when he smiles. The expression gets lost in her wild chestnut locks. “Not yet, May. It’s too late— All the fishies are sleeping now. Like you should be.”

She shifts on his lap like she’s trying to get more comfortable there. Her cheek, indented with lines of sleep, rubs against his shirt when she turns to look up at him. “Need you to tuck me in,” she tells him, tiny chin bobbing against his chest.

Eddie juts back to see her better. “Again?” he humors with his brows raised behind his curly bangs.

“Mhmm,” she nods, slow and sleepy.

“Okay,” he hums, scoffing a tired chuckle. “I’ll tuck you in again, bug.”

You don’t mean to laugh. It just crawls up your throat and out of your mouth before you can stop it. You try to hide it behind your palm, but Maeve still notices. 

Her fluffy brows scrunch together when she turns to you. She swipes at the hair sticking to her cheek with a fumbling hand to see you better. She doesn’t say anything, though. She just kinda blinks at you, with a brown-eyed, emotionless gaze.

You muster a wavering smile at the girl, lifting your hand in an unsure wave.

“Wanna go see the blobfish with us tomorrow?” Maeve blurts. Though, in her less than awake state, it sounds more like wanna go see da bobfish wiv us tommowow? It’s like you can feel your heart melting.

“The aquarium,” Eddie clarifies.

You squirm in your seat. “Oh, I… I can’t,” you sigh, then follow quickly when she pouts. “I wish I could! It sounds super fun, but I’m… I’m busy…”

You aren’t, really. ‘Cause tomorrow’s Saturday — the only thing you really have to do is try to wake up before noon. You just don’t know how else to turn her down.

“Maybe next time?” Eddie offers hopefully, mostly for Maeve’s sake.

You nod rapidly, just for Maeve. “Yeah. Next time. Definitely.”

“See? It’s okay,” Eddie lilts, squeezing gently at the girl’s sides until she’s smiling again. “We can have fun just you and me, right?”

Maeve pouts in response, a sort of snarled face that’s obviously playful.

Eddie laughs loud and boyishly in return. “Hey! Don’t make that face at me!” he exclaims, feigning offense. Maeve loses her poker face almost instantly as she giggles. “Go get in bed, you weirdo. I’ll tuck you in in a second.”

“And read me another book?” she presses hopefully.

He nods, knowing it’s a fight he’s bound to lose. “And read you another book.”

“Two of them?”

The girl holds her pointer and middle finger in front of her face. Eddie chuckles and guides the latter back down with a gentle hand. “One,” he corrects.

“Two.”

“One.”

“Two!”

A brief stare-off ensues, one in which you’ve got a front-row seat. Maeve’s dark chocolate gaze resembles her father’s — button-eyed and swimming with something honeyed and stubborn. She tilts her chin to her chest and glares unwavering at the man in front of her.

Eddie inevitably caves. He sighs so deeply his chest deflates. “Fine… Two. But only if you run real fast.”

Maeves slides down his denim-clad legs until her bare feet hit the carpet. She scurries down the hall without another word, quiet giggles fading with her footsteps. Eddie slumps against the couch with a small, contented sigh. 

You realize you haven’t stopped smiling for several minutes now. “She’s really sweet,” you compliment to fill the silence.

Eddie scoffs a gentle laugh. “Yeah. When she wants to be.”

The quiet returns. You run out of things to say. The notion of the late-late night settles more heavily upon you. You swallow hard and fight for a way out that doesn’t make it sound like Eddie hasn’t just given you one of the best nights of your life. 

“I think I’m gonna—”

“Well, I should—”

The boy starts speaking at the same time as you. You cut each other off without trying, then laugh quietly at yourselves.

“You first,” you tell him.

“I should go tuck Maeve in before she goes all Mayday mode and starts screaming at me,” Eddie says, only partly joking. 

His sweet little Maeve is only Mayday when she’s throwing a too-passionate tantrum. Or when it’s past midnight, and she’s acting like a total gremlin. He doesn’t particularly want you to witness either. ‘Cause kids tend to be pretty gnarly sometimes — especially when you aren’t the one raising them.

“Yeah, I should probably start heading home, anyway,” you reply. “It’s late.”

Eddie rises with a small huff. You follow behind him towards the front door, both of you moving with slow and heavy strides — neither particularly wanting the other to go. 

“Thanks for keeping me company,” he says beneath the sound of the screeching screen door. “And for helping Maeve have a good day and everything… Most people don’t really consider hanging out with a four-year-old and her dad a good time, so…”

“Well, most people are weirdos,” you scoff and slide past him through the doorway. “You and Maeve are, like, the coolest people in Hawkins.”

You stand ahead of him on the front steps of the trailer, glowing beneath the silver moon and the buzzing amber porchlight. Eddie lingers in the entryway and holds the door open with his shoulder, so he can hear Maeve when she inevitably starts shouting for him.

“Yeah, I don’t know about that,” he wavers with a scrunched nose. “Maeve’s pretty cool and all, but… She definitely didn’t get that from me.”

“Your favorite movies are Land Before Time and Stand By Me,” you deadpan with a flat face. A smile inevitably pulls at your lips when you look at him too long, pretty as he is. “You’re cool, Eddie. Whether you wanna be or not.”

“Agree to disagree,” he grins, totally sheepish as he shrugs off the compliment. “Thanks for hangin’ around. Again.”

He feels like he’s said that too many times now, but he’s too full of gratitude to stop. It’s been just him and Maeve for so long. And, yeah, sure, Steve and Robin come around when they can, but they’ve got their own lives outside of this one. It isn’t every day someone appears at his trailer with a bottle of booze and the wherewithal to acclimate to his chaotic life.

Eddie feels like he should never stop thanking you, really.

You shrug. “Thanks for keeping me around. Again.”

“See you soon?” he wonders with a hopeful glint in his dark eyes, made a much lighter amber in the moonlight.

You nod firmly once. “‘Course.”

And even though that’s as good a dismissal as any, you both linger in the doorway still. Like your feet are glued in place. 

How are you supposed to walk away from him? The man with wild rockstar curls, rings on each finger, and a beaded bracelet with his daughter’s initial in the very center. The man who loves cartoons more than his toddler and cries with you at sad movies?

You figure you’ll spend forever chasing this foreign feeling he’s so effortlessly given you.

“Daddy!” Maeve shouts. Her high-pitched voice rings through the tiny trailer. It makes you wince a little. You didn’t think something so tiny could be so loud.

“And there’s Mayday…” Eddie lilts quietly, unflinching ‘cause he’s used to this by now.

“I’ll go,” you laugh, walking backward towards your car. “I’ll— I’ll see you around.”

“G’night,” he calls to you as he watches you go.

His chest stings when he realizes he never asked for your number. It feels much too awkward to do it now, and he’s only got a few minutes more before Maeve goes crazy on him. He should’ve asked you ages ago, really. But he didn’t. ‘Cause he’s an idiot.

You notice it, too, but you flash him a sheepish smile over your shoulder anyway. Even if you never hear from him again after you’re gone, you figure there’s always next year. 

Maeve will be another year older. Steve will bring you along to her party if you beg. Eddie will be in desperate need of a pick-me-up, and you’ll bring a bottle of booze just to make him smile. The alcohol will go untouched, though, as the two of you get lost in conversation and Stand By Me.

Even if all this was only destined to happen once every year — even if it was only supposed to happen once and never again — you’ll spend the rest of your life grateful that it happened at all.

With a cold hand trembling with longing, you wrench your car door open. Though your heart’s heavy with a distant worry that you may never be back here again, you grin at him through the grief and the small distance between you.

“Good night, Eddie.”

[starry-bi-sky]

It's 10PM.

It's 10PM and Danny is fourteen, standing in the bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror. There are stitches in her side and a vice grip on the sink ledge, her fingers are stained a dried red. She was fixing the stitching. Her back is bruised -- as is many places -- and her throat is sore from a power she didn't know she could use -- until today, that is.

She's fourteen. It's 10PM.

Her family was supposed to die today. They would've, if not for Clockwork and his kindness. She can't get the choking smell of ash and dust and burning gas out of her nose.

Her family should be dead. They're not. They're alive.

So why can't she get the rock out of her stomach, the urge to vomit out of her throat?

Danny didn't save her family. Clockwork did.

She can't get the sound of that other her out of her head. The cold laughter out of her ears. That woman wasn't Danny, and yet she was wearing her face. Both living and dead, she was wearing her face.

She drags a hand through her hair, and then down her face. Her hair is gross. Dirty with grime and oil and sweat, it plasters to her head, it itches the back of her ears, it prickles the nape of her neck.

That other her had long hair like her. Long and flowing and white fire. White hair and blood red eyes. Her face, matured, staring back at her. Danny doesn't know what her name is, she never asked. She's been calling that other her 'Me' in her head.

It's not her, but that Me is a part of her. So it's just as worse.

Danny didn't save her family; Clockwork did. Her hands are shaking, her legs are shivering. There was no control today. Everything felt like a moving train -- fast, unstoppable, speeding down one track and by the time you hit the brakes, it's too late. Someone's already been hit.

Danny Fenton should've begun her downward spiral today. Her downward spiral into villainy. She didn't. Because of Clockwork. Only because of Clockwork.

He was the one that showed her the future. Hew as the one that saved her family. Not Danny.

Jazz says when someone feels like their life is out of control, they tend to make desperate changes to themselves in order to feel like they regain it.

She reaches for the scissors.

They're thin, not meant for hair. For thread. It's from the first aid kit.

She grabs them anyways, and grabs a fistful of hair.

There's no thought behind it, just numbness all over. Numbness, and an icy fear. It doesn't all cut in one fell swoop; she has to saw, just a little bit.

Her eyes never leave the mirror. Blue eyes stare back at her, blue eyes she's been steadily becoming unable to recognize. In the end, she's holding a chunk of her once-long hair in her hands, a thousand-yard stare staring back at her, and with an uneven haircut that tickles her neck.

Her vision stings. Her throat grows thick and ugly. Tears bleed into her eyes. A whine, a wail, swells in the back of her mouth, and pins itself between her tongue and the roof of her mouth.

Mom and Dad sleep, safe in their beds. Jazz is asleep, safe, in her bed.

She drops the hair in her hands and lets it scatter across the floor, she drops the scissors and it clunks clumsily, loudly against the floor. She's half afraid that it'll wake them all up. But no one stirs.

She reaches forward, grips her fingers against the ledge of the mirror, and opens it to reveal the cabinet behind it. Finally, her reflection won't look at her.

Turning numbly to pick up the scattered first aid kit across the floor. There is a grief is lodged between the climbing bars of her ribs, stuck like a pebble in between the grooves of a shoe.

She cleans up the bathroom silently. She wipes the blood off the tile and puts the first aid kit back where it belongs, and gathers up the discarded hair to throw away.

She mourns the whole time, flinging the tears from her lashes with every blink. In the end, she half limps over to the door. Her fingers linger over the light switch.

Bye-bye, Danny, she thinks. She doesn't turn around to look at the mirror.

If that is who Danny becomes, Martha simply won't be her anymore.

She turns the light off, and doesn't look back.

[mickandmusings]

v. we were happy

part of the 'hangman & honey' series!

summary: Honey's life lately was much like walking on air-everything was light, breezy, full of happiness and excitement. She relishes in it, enjoying her time in Haven before graduation. But if there's one thing Honey knows, it's this: when good things happen to her, the bad things will come tenfold.

word count: 7.4k (oops)

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI (just to be safe); smut highly implied, but no graphic descriptions besides heavy kissing (i'm not skilled enough for that); descriptions of a panic attack; angst; honey finally getting the important feminine friendships she deserves; notable military inaccuracies

-

"If you give me the slightest hint of withdrawal and abandonment, I would outdo you." -

-

"Jake is going to flip his lid when he sees you, Hon!"

Haley's voice rings in Honey's left ear, the girl delicately twisting Honey's hair into a simple up-do. Sarah Grace nods in agreement, giggling as she brushes a neutral eyeshadow across Honey's eyelids. Honey smiles and gives her own soft chuckle, feeling incredibly out of place-but simultaneously comfortable-with the new experience of getting all dolled up. Of course she'd gotten herself ready for dances with Jake before, but having girlfriends do your hair and makeup was entirely different, as Honey was learning. Haley and Sarah Grace had doted and debated about looks all morning, until they both agreed and settled on a unified look to match Honey's simple black dress.

"The dress alone is going to make him want to take you right there in his backseat," Sarah Grace commented, her laughter bouncing off the walls of the bathroom in the Seresin's spare house.

"Oh, gross, SG! Give Honey more credit than that, her boy has tact, which is apparently something Ethan lacks if he's taking you in his backseat." Haley shakes her head, the sequins of her hot pink dress rustling as she moves around Honey's stool to get the back of her head. Her own blonde locks are pulled into an intricate style atop her head, the shiny hairpins glimmering in the bathroom's ample lighting.

"I think you're both overconfident in your ability to take me from homely to supermodel."

Honey's voice is quiet, but the girls hear her clearly. They're both chatterboxes, but Honey had learned quickly that they were always listening, no matter how timidly she spoke. Both of the girls cut their eyes at her with appalled expressions.

"Homely? What makes you think you're ugly, Honey? You're easily one of the prettiest girls in our class. Guys are just shallow, well, except for your boy," Sarah Grace's face breaks into a smile. Honey blushes, not sure how to accept a compliment like that. She stays quiet as the girls finish their work, but her friends can only stand the silence for so long.

"So, Honey," Haley begins as she pins back a section of Honey's hair. "How excited are you for UT? I mean you only have a few weeks until graduation, and then summer, but then it's all over and you're packing your life away to Austin."

"I'm not packing my life away, Hals, I'm still coming back for the holidays and the long weekends. It's not like I'm never coming back to Haven. I mean-" She pauses and a blush spreads across her face. "I imagine Jake wants to settle down here, get married, maybe start a family. At least that's what he's always said."

"AW!" Haley's outburst makes Honey laugh too. "You two make me SICK! Jake Seresin and his perfect little family, all the other PTA moms are gonna give you hell, girl."

Honey rolls her eyes, pursing her lips as Sarah Grace moves to paint lipstick across them. Honey's heart feels full, and her skin is warm with adoration for the girls in front of her. For the first time in her entire life, everything felt right, perfect even. But if there was one thing Honey knew well, nothing good that happens to her lasts forever. She swallows the doubt rising in her chest and stands as the two girls finally finish. She looks at herself in the mirror-a satin black dress adorns her frame, accenting all of her best features. The pearl hairpins Haley had placed in her curly hair shined in the lights, and, while uncomfortable, the heels on her feet fit perfectly. Her eyes widened, for the first time maybe ever, she feels beautiful. Tears rise behind her eyes, and she blinks quickly in an effort not to ruin the makeup. The action isn't lost on Sarah Grace who gives her a sympathetic look, tears forming in her own eyes.

"It all feels so fast, doesn't it?" Sarah Grace's voice is softer than normal. "I mean, we only just became friends and after this summer, we'll all be in different corners of the country. You'll be in Austin, Haley will be in Tennessee, and I'll be Alabama. It doesn't seem fair, does it?"

She was right, in a matter of weeks, Honey would start at UT Austin, Haley at University of Tennessee, and Sarah Grace at Auburn.

Honey shakes her head as she lets a few tears slip through. Haley is a blubbering mess next to her, her arms gathering around both Honey and Sarah Grace's shoulders.

"I love you guys," Haley's voice wobbles as she squeezes them tightly. "But hey, it's a good thing we all look damn good in orange, right? Otherwise we'd be fucked. And! We can all visit each other for games, since we already have the right colors, right?"

Honey laughed into her friend's shoulder, that sinking feeling of dread coming up her throat like bile. As Haley pulls away, she wipes the tears that had fallen, a smile on her face that didn't feel forced at all.

The girl's emotional moment is interrupted by a sharp knock to the bathroom door, Willie's voice sounding.

"You ladies ready?"

Haley said something in reply, but it didn't quiet reach Honey's ears. She was reeling in emotion, and it felt as if her ears were filled with cotton. Her heart raced, and she couldn't stop her mouth from speaking.

"H-Haley? SG?"

The two girls turn to their friend, her eyes filling with another round of tears. They both shuffle to her side, their own eyes cloudy.

"I, um, I just wanted to say...thanks. For so long I truly thought I was invisible, and I just-," she pauses, flashes of the past eight months playing behind her eyes: sleepovers and movie dates, sitting together at football games, gossiping over lunch. "-thanks for seeing me, for being my friend. You'll never know how much that, uh," Honey's bottom lip quivers. She doesn't have to finish her statement, because they've already pulled her back into a massive group hug. They all three laugh as they part, and Haley grabs her hand as they shuffle out the door to the front yard.

Immediately, Honey feels Jake's gaze on her. She pretends to ignore it for a moment, not wanting to meet his jade eyes after just crying, he'd be concerned. Instead, she leaves him waiting as she talks to Haley and SG before they both break off to their own respective partners. Finally, she meets Jake's gaze, his normally light eyes now dark, full of a longing she had only seen once before. She swallows and gives him a shy smile, approaching him timidly.

"You clean up nice, Seresin," she jokes, feeling almost nervous under his gaze, but never uncomfortable.

"Me?" He finally speaks, his calloused hands pulling her in by her hips. "Darlin', you're always beautiful, but-," he shakes his head. "This look will be in my dreams for a while."

Honey laughs, Jake's lips pressing a kiss to the top of her head as they shuffle over for at least an hour's worth of pictures for Janet. The last picture before they all head out, the obligatory picture under Janet's magnolia tree, was one of Honey smiling at the camera, but Jake stared down at her instead. For anyone from the outside looking in, he was simply enamored with her, and couldn't turn his eyes away. While that was true, Jake knew it had more to do with him trying to memorize the happiness painted across her face, because after tonight, he would likely never see it again.

-

Music thumps in Jake's ears as he sways Honey in his arms. She's a vision below him, and he finds himself unable to keep his eyes (and his hands) off of her. She gives him a smile that dazzles as he spins and dips her to the upbeat pop song sounding from the speakers. She accidentally steps on his toes as he pulls her back in and apologizes, but he pays it no mind, it's not like he could feel it through his dress boots. She had abandoned her heels hours ago at the table they shared with their friends, his suit jacket following not long after. He grins, lifting her over his shoulder without warning, spinning her before placing her back down on her feet. She yelps in surprise, settling back into his hold, it was a move he'd pulled numerous times.

"This isn't a honky tonk! Why are you pullin' out those line dancing moves?!"

She giggles through her words, cheeks rosy with a slightly breathless blush. The action transports them to the summer of their sophomore year, spending hours upon hours in the farmhouse living room in sock feet, desperately attempting to learn the steps to a line dance Jake had convinced her to learn. Jake smiles back down at her, his hands settling on her hips, falling dangerously lower and lower each time.

"Can't I show off a little? Didn't learn all those moves for nothin'," Jake's response intertwines with his cocky smile and a wink. A plastic crown sits crooked on his head, a sash that adorned him 'Prom King' now over Willie's torso across the room. The upbeat pop song slowly morphs into a country love ballad, and Jake pulls her in close. Honey welcomes his touch, resting her head on his shoulder, one of her hands coming to the hair on the nape of his neck, the other resting on his chest. Her hair that Haley had so delicately curled was falling down around her face, and her lipstick that Sarah Grace had spent an hour and a half debating shades of had mostly been wiped away, notably making Jake's lips a little more pink than normal. She nuzzles her nose into the side of his neck as they sway, and Jake feels tingles travel up his spine. His hands pull her closer-if that was even possible-and planted a kiss on her temple.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?"

"Only a thousand times," Honey responds, her eyes now glimmering in the light as she looks up at him.

"Make it a thousand and one, you look beautiful tonight, baby."

He lifts a hand from her hip, pushing stray hair back behind her ear. Honey blushes, hiding her face in his neck again. She's quiet for most of the song, but it doesn't strike Jake as odd, quiet is her usual state of being. The song is fading when he hears her voice over the music.

"Does it feel weird? That everything is happening so fast? I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm glad high school is ending, but...this time three months from now, SG and Haley will be hours away, and we'll be packing up our things and headed towards Austin. I swear to God just yesterday we were nine years old riding bikes up and down the road and now..."

Honey cuts off her own sentence. Jake certainly knew how fast the time was flying. The dread he had been swallowing for weeks was creeping back up, and the guilt of not telling her was beginning to weigh him down completely.

"It's flyin' by, for sure."

She closes her eyes and lets him sway her for the rest of the song, before the sweet song shifts to one more fit for fast-paced dancing. It was late into the night, and it was likely the adults would be kicking them out within the next hour. He waited for Honey's body to detach from his own, but when it never did, he looked down at her. Her eyes meet his, a look of desperation crossing her face. He'd know that look anywhere-she was overstimulated, and ready to go. He pulls her away just a few inches, his hands still lingering on her hips.

"Why don't you go tell the girls you're leavin' and we'll get out of here?"

She was tired of the party, the crowds, the loud music, and was relieved when she didn't have to utter a word for Jake to understand her discomfort. She nodded and shuffled to bid her friends farewell, returning back to their shared table to slide her shoes back on. Jake catches her out of the corner of his eye and approaches her, a confused look written across his face.

"What're you doin'?"

Honey looks up, "Puttin' my shoes on?"

"They hurt your feet, just let me carry you to the truck."

"That's sweet, J, but I'm heavy and this dress-"

"I wasn't askin', baby," His eyes are that same dark shade from before, and she simply swallows her retort.

He sticks his arm out for her to take, her heels now dangling from his opposite hand. She wraps her hand around his bicep until they reach the door, where he scoops her up as if she weighs nothing. Her arms instantly intertwine around his neck, a laugh escaping her as she laughs at the absurdity of it all-Jake Seresin, her childhood best friend, carrying her bridal style to his truck.

"Somethin' about this funny?"

She simply shakes her head and looks up at him, her face hot.

"Just, imaginin' what eight-year-old us would think, ya know? Nine-year-old Honey would've never imagined this. Would the younger you ever picture this?"

Jake doesn't even have to think.

"Yeah, yeah he could. I was in love with you the second I saw you, Honey, I just didn't know it yet."

Honey is rendered speechless, a warmth spreading in her torso and filtering to the rest of her body. Her eyes dart between his own as he slides her into the passenger side of his truck, darting down to place her shoes at her feet, slinging his jacket in the backseat. He goes to close the door, but her voice stops him.

"Jake?"

He looks up at her, an expression drawn across her face that he'd never seen before. He notes her chest rapidly rising and falling with short breaths, her eyes blown wide and dark, her body language radiating a sort of familiar heat that Jake had felt earlier in the night, when he had first seen her in the dress she was wearing.

"What is it, baby?" His voice is barely above a whisper.

She says nothing, bringing his face in-between her hands as she kisses him with a fervor he'd never seen coming from her. His own hands meet her hips, sliding her across the seat and closer to him. It's all lust, clashing teeth and heated kisses, his hands resting too far down her back and gripping her thighs, her lips on the plane of his neck.

She pulls away, breathless.

"We should get out of here."

Jake didn't have to be told twice as he raced over to the driver's side, his hand finding her leg as he peeled out of the parking lot. Her lips placed a kiss on the underside of his jaw as his grip tightened on her, and Jake was thanking the heavens above his grandparents had built that spare house nearly a mile and a half out from their own house. Jake was the epitome of a southern gentleman, never pushing or even insinuating the few intimate acts they'd shared so far, but now, with Honey looking like that, with her lips teasingly caressing his neck, most of his control had flown out the window.

Jake made it to the house in record time (by running a few stop signs and speeding) and all but flung himself out of the truck, pressing his lips fervently against her own as he pulled her from the truck, and was prepared to break down the damn door of the house to get her alone. He tossed his own shoes off at the door, pushing open the bedroom door with his foot as he plopped her carefully on the bed. She gave a soft chuckle, and he hovers over her close enough to feel her heart racing. He brings his hand to her cheek, his eyes meeting hers. His own chest heaves with short breaths, his mind muddled as he gazes into her dark irises. He brings his own lips to her neck and trailed down to her collarbone, the hands on her waist falling lower and lower as he moves his lips down her skin. He stops himself, looking down at her as his voice grows low and serious.

"Are you sure about this, baby? We can stop at any point. We can stop this right now, no pres-"

Her shaky hands fall on either side of his face, her fingers combing through his blonde locks.

"Jake," she pauses, using a beat to catch her breath. "I've never been more sure of anything. I have nothing to hide from you, I want you to do this. I-I love you."

Jake's heart hammers.

"I love you too."

His lips connect with her own, his calloused hand pushing the strap of her dress down her shoulder exposing her bare skin to him. As she revels under his touch, his mind only sees her, and he could not fathom thinking of her in any other way than in her state of pure bliss.

-

Hours later, as the moonlight glows on Honey's bare skin, Jake's momentary euphoria is diminishing. He watches her chest rise and fall as she sleeps, his fingers lightly tracing shapes onto her arm. She moves closer to him subconsciously, her face buried into the crook of his neck. He's wide awake, relishing in the contact as long as he can, because this time tomorrow, he'll be stammering and stuttering as he tells her the truth. His mind goes in circles about the acceptance letter hidden in the boot box under his bed. He takes a deep breath and kisses her temple before closing his eyes and willing his mind to shut off, but the storm swirling in his heart keeps him from resting. Jake instead spends his night watching her sleep, seeing her eyes flutter as she dreams, and thanks his lucky stars for the short time he had in her orbit. As the sun's rays begin to shine through the curtains of the bedroom, Jake's eyes finally began to close with sleep, his dreams peaceful.

Honey wakes with to the blinding sunlight hours later. She squints her eyes at the intruding brightness, before adjusting and opening them fully. She looks up to see Jake’s eyes closed with sleep, his blonde locks tossed about haphazardly. Even in sleep his eyebrows furrowed and she frowned, not liking seeing him in discomfort. She kisses the underside of his jaw lightly, and it causes him to stir just slightly. She shuffles just a bit in his hold, her body tired, but her mind wide awake. He shuffles again before his eyes blink open, and his spare hand rubs the sleep from them before looking down at her. He grins.

“Hi,” she speaks sheepishly, her pointer finger drawing shapes against his bare shoulder.

“Mornin’ baby,” He whispers down to her, kissing the crown of her head as he’s waking up. He knows they need to get dressed and shuffle back up to the house soon, or else his grandparents would be nosing around. Them lying naked in bed together was the last thing he wanted them to see.

“Are you okay?”

Her words take him by surprise. He wrinkles his brows, pushing her still slightly curly hair out of her face, before letting it rest around her waist again.

“M’peachy, darlin’. Why? Do I look rough or somethin’?”

She shakes her head.

“You were frownin' in your sleep, thought you were having a bad dream or something.”

Jake sighs, he wished it was only a bad dream. He painted on a smirk.

“I’m fine, promise. Didn’t get much sleep, couldn’t stop staring at the pretty girl in my arms.”

Honey wasn’t quite sure if she believed him, but she didn’t want to ruin the moment by pestering him.

“Such a flirt, Seresin,” she rises up to rest on her elbows, leaning down to leave a chaste kiss on his lips. “We should probably head back up before the old folks start poking around.”

He nods, another signature grin forming on his face.

“I’ll get up and movin’ as soon as you do.”

Honey plops back down against her pillows, the sunlight on her exposed skin now giving her a sunkissed appearance. It made Jake’s insides flame with want again, and he says nothing before kissing her neck again. She’s underneath him again in a split second, the air filled with the chirping of the morning birds and the sounds of pleasure tumbling from both of their lips. After they both reach their highs, she collapses back onto her pillow, his warm hands pulling her back to his front. He nuzzles his head into the crook of her neck, placing a kiss there as he lightly rubs his thumb against the top of her hip. They relish in one another’s presence in the shared bed, stealing kisses and not-so-innocent touches. They’re both too caught up in one another to realize that time was ticking by faster than they could imagine.

As Jake fell asleep next to her, he dreamt of a life years from now, curled into the very bedroom he’d fallen asleep in, a little different in decor, and definitely some thicker curtains, but she’d been bare beneath him, her sweet sounds filling his ears. He’d collapsed next to her, but when he looked down, a gold band adorned his left hand. When sunlight began to peep from around the windows of the imaginary life he created, he noted the sound of children’s laughter in the next room over. When he woke up to find Honey resting under his chin, his dream had almost felt real, more a glimpse into the future rather than a dream.

-

The cloud they live on seems to float into the next few weeks. It was as if they were finally falling victim to all of the typical teenage love things: sneaking around behind his grandparents back, keeping as quiet as possible while they fooled around with one another in shared sheets. They'd sneak out Jake's window and sneak off to an empty pasture in Jake's truck for complete solitude, just the two of them under a starry Texas sky. Honey had never smiled so wide, and her happiness practically radiated off of her. Jake couldn't help but feel her happiness just by being in her presence, her true bubbly nature on full display for him.

But the day before graduation, they're knocked down from their personal cloud nine.

Honey had left the house early for Haley's-a whole day for Honey to enjoy the warm Texas weather before the stress of graduation tomorrow. She'd been so happy before leaving, bumbling around their shared room in a swimsuit that made Jake's head spin. He'd tempted her to stay behind, all puppy dog eyes and grabby hands. She simply ignored him, grabbing her book of the week off of its designated spot on the bedside table, intending to read it while she sat poolside. She left with a beach towel in hand and a kiss on his cheek.

The second the front door shut with her departure, Jake had been a bundle of nerves, completely on edge as he paced back and forth. By the time he finally settled onto the mattress he had likely worn a hole in the carpet of his bedroom. He had finally procrastinated until the literal very last day, and now he had to burst her bubble with something they could've settled already if he'd just told her. He fumbled with the letter in his hand, rereading the paper over and over as if the words would magically change. His full legal name stared back at him in big, black, bold letters, almost taunting him.

'Mr. JACOB T. SERESIN III

1021 SERESIN FARM RD.

HAVEN, TX 77382

Dear Jacob,

I am pleased to invite you to join the United States Naval Academy as a member of the class of...'

Jake stopped, he didn't need to read anymore. He already knew what it said, and it wouldn't change. He'd already sent his acceptance, and, in less than a month he'd be on his way to Maryland for his summer. He slammed the letter onto the empty spot on the bedside table, throwing on his boots and heading towards the barn in an effort to focus his attention on something else. He worked silently, only his grumbles filling the air as his mind spun with the thousand different ways he was going to explain this to the person who he loved most. He had put it off for far too long, and he had to tell her, today. No more making excuses or putting it off, he would do it, no matter how terrified it made him. He took a deep breath and swiped at the sweat forming on his face as he made his way out to the fence line that needed repairing-that'd keep him busy for a while. As he worked, he was so laser-focused he had hardly noticed the sun beginning to set, or the sound of Haley's car rolling down the driveway. He definitely didn't hear the sound of his girlfriend's sweet laughter as she bid her friend farewell and rushed into the house to find him.

She frowned as she looked on the main floor, finding no signs of him, and she shuffled up the stairs as she called after him.

"Jake, are you up here?"

She noted his open bedroom door, and made her way in. Her shoulders fell as his presence was lacking in the empty room. She shook her head and plopped her bag onto his desk chair and moved to sit her (completely unread) novel onto it's spot on the bedside table, only to find the spot already filled. She assumed the paper was for her, maybe a note left by Jake, so she picked it up and began to read it. Her entire body stilled as she noted Jake's full name in a bold font, his address underneath.

'Dear Jacob,

I am pleased to invite you to join the United States Naval Academy...'

Her heart raced, eyes darting as she skimmed over the fluff of the letter, her attention going back when she noticed dates in bold letters.

'Induction Day is June 27th, which is the beginning of your-"

She stopped reading, her chest feeling tight. She sits down on the bed as she rereads the paper in her hand, as if she had misread the words printed so clearly on the page. Her hands were shaking, and her mind was reeling. She simply could not believe this was real, it had to be some mistake in the system. Jake wouldn't be leaving for Maryland come late June, he was coming with her to UT in August. As her chest heaved, she raced down the stairs with the letter held tightly to her torso. She was thankful Janet and Jacob Sr. had been selling at the farmer's market this afternoon, because her emotions had begun to rise to concerning levels, and if Jake didn't explain, things would get explosive.

When she reached the end of the stairs, she caught his work hat out of the corner of her eye.

"Hey, baby, didn't see you come in," His face is painted with a smirk as he leans against the kitchen counter, glass of water in hand. Honey is having none of his flirtations.

"Jake, what is this?" She lifts the letter so the words were facing him.

Jake's smirk falls, his eyes peering into her own, and he swallows thickly. He says nothing, his mouth feeling incredibly dry despite the water he had just downed.

"This is a joke right? O-Or some mix-up in the system? Maybe you should call them, m-maybe there's another Jacob Thomas Seresin in the system and they sent it to the wrong address, or-" She's shaking her head as she looks down at the letter in her shaky hands. "Because this can't be right. I mean...right?"

Jake looks at her, her chest heaving with short breaths, eyes darting between him and the letter in her trembling hold. She bites her lip, waiting for him to speak, to reassure her it was a big mistake, or a mean prank he'd planted for her, just for him to say something.

He longs to look down and see anger behind her eyes, or for her to scream and shout at him, anything to diminish the pleading look that stares up at him.

"Jake? Talk to me, what's going on?"

He had been quiet for too long. He shakes his head at her.

"I-It's not some mix-up, Honey. I'm going to the Naval Academy at the end of June."

Honey's eyes dart back and forth between his own, trying to understand.

"As like a summer program or somethin'?"

Jake shakes his head again, moving slowly to take the letter from her, grasping her trembling hands into his own.

"I'm attending the Academy full-time. I-"

Honey begins to tune out everything he's saying, as if his words had shut off her ability to think. She stares down at her feet, not sure what to say.

"-I-I wanted to tell you soo-"

"How long have you known?"

Her abrupt words cut him off, and he looks at her confused.

"I-"

"Because I've only heard mention of the Naval Academy once. During football season, and only in passing," She pauses, her once bright eyes now heavy with sorrow. "H-Have you been lying to me this whole time?"

She takes two timid steps back from him, ripping her hands from his grasp.

"Honey, baby, no, I-"

"Don't call me that," her voice is quiet, and when he looks up at her again, her eyes are full of tears that had slowly begun to fall down her cheeks. "This induction d-date, it's less than a month from now. Were you ever going to tell me if I didn't find this?"

Her arms are crossed across her chest, her body language fully on defense. There was no shouting or sharp comments that were fueled by anger, as Jake had expected. Instead of lashing out at him, she simply folded in on herself.

"All these months, everything we talked about. Going to college together, movin' in together, marriage, babies...was it some sick joke to you? Because that shit was real to me, Jacob."

The use of his full name comes as a digging surprise, she only ever used it in a joking manner, but now, she was far from joking. Jake doesn't say anything, standing stupidly as the girl he loves falls apart in front of him. His mind is overrun with things he wants to say to her, to shout from the rooftop, but none of it seems worthy enough at this moment. He's hurt her, in a way he couldn't imagine he ever would, and nothing he could say would fix it.

"I-If you wanted to break up with me," she stops, digging the heels of her hands into her eyes as her lips tremble on the cusp of a sob. She takes a deep breath, one that looks painful even through Jake's own teary eyes. "I-If you wanted to break up with me, yo-you should've just told me, because this, this is so much worse."

Jake's heart sinks, that's the last thing he wanted to do.

"Honey, I'm not breakin' up with you. I-I'm doin' this for you," His chest is rising and falling just as rapidly as hers, but he's not quite as good at pulling the reins of his own emotions. "If I went to UT, I'd waste my grandparents' money takin' classes I would half-ass, and probably permanently damage my body playin' football. I'd come back to Haven after wastin' four years, take over the farm, and stay here forever until I die, n-"

"That's a bad thing? I didn't realize my dreams were so lowly compared to yours." Her voice is sharp. Her uneasiness is now festering in insecurity, and, as a result, anger.

"That's not what I'm sayin'," Jake tries to slow his breathing, desperate pleading with her to just listen to him. "When I go and do this Honey, we'll have a better life. You'll get a gorgeous house on a beautiful piece of land, in any city in the country you want. I'll get to do what I truly want to do for the rest of my life. Honey, I know you love Haven, God, I do too, it's my home, but you and I both know we're made for somethin' bigger, baby."

She can't even bear to look at him, putting almost all of her energy in not collapsing into gut-wrenching sobs in the middle of the tile floor. She shakes her head as she lets out a dry laugh.

"You're so hard-headed, Jake. I already have a gorgeous house on a beautiful piece of land, in the only city in the world I'd want to plant roots in. My house could be a cardboard box next to a dumpster in New York City if you were next to me! You think UT was my dream school, that I wanted to plant my life in Austin?! I chose it because I knew you'd be by my side! That was all I ever wanted! But now I'm realizin' just how girlish and naive that sounds, and I'm sorry. I-I didn't realize you dreamt of somethin' different. I-I just wish you would've told me." She wipes the stray tears sliding down her face, the sad, watery smile he expected her to wear paints her face. She looks back down at her hands, picking at the skin around her nails.

"Congratulations," her voice is so small he hardly hears it. "I know you'll do great, you always do. I, um, I'm gonna go home."

Jake's blood freezes. "You are home."

She gives him another faux smile as she shakes her head back and forth.

"This is your home, Jake. My home is at the end of the road. You know where to find me."

"No," he steps in front of her. "I-I know you're angry, and you've got every right to be. But I'm not lettin' you go back there. You take our bed, I'll sleep on the couch. O-Or we can sleep in separate rooms for now. I'm not lettin' you run off because you're scared I'm leavin'. No matter what you think, I still love you, that's never changin'. I'm not dumpin' you off, Honey, that isn't what this is."

He sees it, the light completely draining from her as the conversation continues. The years of breaking her out of her shell, of healing her eternal worry of everyone she loves leaving, it was all wiped within a matter of minutes. He had carved an open wound into the heart he'd sewn back together, and now, she stands in front of him, numb and completely breaking simultaneously.

Her back is facing him, and his hand lands softly on her arm as her torso shudders with an audible sob. She clutches at her chest as her breaths are short and ragged, and Jake knows this action well. She's panicking, her anxious thoughts culminating in physical symptoms. As much as he, too, wanted to collapse into a pile of grief, he moved to help her through her own.

"Hey, hey, you're okay, you're okay," Jake's voice is at a normal level, his hand grabbing her own and bringing it to his chest. "You gotta breathe, darlin'. C'mon."

Her eyes look up at him, and he doesn't even recognize the person staring back at him. It shakes him to his core, but he pushes through until she's breathing calmly next to him, both of their backs against the counter as they sit on the cold kitchen tile. In an action he doesn't quite understand, she moves to rest her head on his shoulder. She doesn't utter a word, but she allows him to hold her close. She falls asleep against him, and he brings her to his own bed, tucking her in before placing a kiss on her forehead. He moves to leave the room, but her voice stops him.

"Jake?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't leave. Stay with me, please. I don't want to lose you before I have to."

He doesn't argue, his heart is too tender to ever deny her request. He slides into the sheets next to her as she tucks her head under his chin, as if nothing had changed. But, for Honey, everything had changed.

She had been a fool, stupid, to think Jake wouldn't dump her after taking what he wanted from her. Her mother's sharp words rang around in her mind:

"That Seresin boy will dump you the second he gets what he wants, girl. Just you watch."

"You? With a boy like him? You must be more stupid than I thought, sweetheart."

"You're going to end up just like me, lied to, cheated on, with a ungrateful, bitch daughter who hates your guts."

Jake rested peacefully, while Honey saw everything she feared most come alive around her. Silent tears ran down her own face, and as she sat there, she knew what she had to do-if Jake was going to abandon her, she'd follow suit.

-

The night of graduation, after diplomas had been given out and caps had been thrown, Honey and Jake's small friend group had all come together on the Seresin's place, gathered around a bonfire in an empty clearing, most of them nursing bottles of alcohol they had smuggled from their parents' supply. Honey watched as Jake laughed with Brett and Willie, darting her eyes down when Ethan brought Sarah Grace into a smothering kiss as she jokingly pushed him off of her. She felt like the Honey she used to be-sitting idly on the sidelines as life happened to everyone else. She carried a heavy sadness and anger in her chest, one she could never put down, not even with the concoction of various liquids in the solo cup she held, occasionally taking sips. The burn felt nice, an easy distraction from the gnawing of anger in her chest. She smiled as Willie pulled her from her chair and made her dance to a stupid country song, feeling a little lighter as she let loose. One look at Jake had her shut down again, recluse in her green lawn chair. As the night carried on, she looked out at her friend group one last time, memorizing the warm feeling, because it was the last time they would be her friends. Come morning, she'd be long gone from Haven, and, since they were Jake's friends first, she'd lose them.

After the festivities of the night were over and their guests had stumbled back to their own homes, Jake and Honey made their way back inside, carrying out their routine as if it was any other night. Despite the unresolved feelings she carried, Honey refused to let Jake carry them too. She remained neutral, still sleeping in his arms every night, still tagging along at events, as far as he knew, they had three days until he left for the Academy, and he had planned to spend every waking moment with her. He had no idea of the plans that Honey had, the ones that would unexpectedly change his life forever.

The Seresin farm house was eerily quiet. Everyone was asleep as the moonlight seeped in through the thin curtains. At least, mostly everyone.

Under the guise of the darkness, Honey slips out of Jake's arms slowly, moving so carefully as to not wake him up. If he woke up and caught her, she'd never go through with her plan, she'd be sucked back into bed with his encapsulating emerald eyes and his desperate pleas for her to stay. She shuffles across the hall to her own bedroom, sliding the duffel bag she'd packed out from under her bed, sliding on her trusty Converse high tops, and shutting the door behind her. As she shuffles down the stairs with Jake's car keys in her hands, her racing mind thinks of the conversation they'd had just four days prior. She'd been sleeping in his grasp as he whispered down to her.

"My truck," he started, his hands intertwining in her hair. "I want you to take it, to UT. I won't be here to use it, and it'll make me feel better knowing you'll have a way to get back and forth."

She'd protested and fought him on it, but now, as she snuck out of the creaky front door, she was glad he'd done it. She slung her bag into the back seat, sliding into the driver's side, and slamming the door closed. Her chest heaves with anxious breaths, tears already clouding her eyes. She shoves them down and adjusts the seat that had been set for Jake's lanky legs, and turns the key. The local country station comes on, and Honey ignores it, turning her body to look out the back glass and backs the truck out of the yard and down the dusty driveway, ready for the long drive ahead of her. She was leaving Jake in a way that only felt right-he wasn't going to take that from her, she wouldn't be the one abandoned this time-he would.

Jake had woken as he heard her footsteps descend down the stairs. It wasn't unusual, Honey had been up at all hours of the night since the day of their disagreement. He shut his eyes closed again, leaving his arms open for her to slide back into. When the sound of his truck starting fills his ears, he pops his eyes open, not bothering to even throw on a shirt as he takes the stairs two at a time, running through his house and out the front door in only his boxers. He only gets a glimpse of the taillights down the driveway as his bare feet hit the grass of the yard. He's stomping back through the house, not caring much if he wakes anyone. He's lifting the house phone with a quick pace, dialing her cellphone number even quicker. As he expected, no answer. His hands shake, his heart hammers, and he runs back up the stairs to at least toss on a shirt and some shoes, his looks be damned. He was going to grab the keys to his grandfather's truck and take after her, she couldn't have made it further than down the road by now.

When he slams open his door, he notices the letter on his nightstand, because it's out of place. Normally, Honey's book or multiple books rest there, ready for her to pick up whenever. Instead it's a flat, white sheet of paper, and he glares at it as if he could make it catch flames. He snatches it up and opens it, expecting to find Honey's delicate cursive etched onto it in ink. Instead he finds typed letters, Honey's legal first and last name in big, bold letters at the top of the page. She had likely denoted her preferred name, because it was used in the greeting.

"Dear Honey,

Congratulations on your admission to Mississippi State University! For over 100 years, MSU..."

Jake stops reading, his unease turning into flaming hot anger. He slams the letter back onto the nightstand as tears form in his eyes, his chest growing tight with the bout of sobs threatening to fall from his lips. He sits down on his mattress, his head in his hands as he lets his silent tears fall onto the carpet below. How had he not noticed it? Had there been signs? There had been no sudden withdrawal of her affections, no serious changes in her mood. As Jake calms the best he can at the moment, he realizes she didn't mean this in malice, just like he didn't have any malice behind shipping off to the Academy. He loved her, and, at least he hoped, she still loved him. They had been sewn at the hip since they were nine years old, perhaps it was due time they went their separate ways. No matter how much he told himself that this was for the better, he felt alone, empty. At this moment, despite knowing and loving her for over a decade, Jake, for the first time in his life, finally knew exactly how Honey always felt: abandoned.

-

taglist:

@fraaaaankiiiiieee

@djs8891

@unattainablesillygoose

@psuedochakra

@mrsevans90

[444ajax]

beg for it

– miguel o'hara x male reader.

cw; dom!miguel, sub male!reader, miguel is mean in this, a little non-con but you (the reader) is into it, rough sex, impact play, praise, degradation, breeding kink, a little surprise at the end, miguel speaks spanish in this (i google translated it so if it's not good, sorry). also, this is 4k words and no, i won't do the "MDNI" because y'all ignore it anyway.

It seemed like you were just rubbing it in his face that he couldn't catch you, no matter how hard he tried. Sure, there were times where he almost caught you, but you slipped out of his grasp before he could finally put a stop to this.

Until one day, Miguel did catch you.

And he wasn't nice about it.

+++

You were swinging through rooftops, easily dodging Miguel, laughing underneath your mask. The chase was so fun and enthralling that adrenaline began to pump through your veins, kindling a fire to brew and burst through the crevices of your chest and —

And then your foot slips, causing you to lose balance as you stumbled off the rooftop and landed on the dumpster, back erupting in agony as you gasped.

Fuck, you couldn't help but think as you rolled off the dumpster and landed on your side, air rushing out of your chest as you once again gasped. You laid there for a few seconds, breathing — no — gulping in air desperately. Then, you hear feet smack on the ground by the end of the alleyway and you freeze.

You almost forgot about Miguel because of the white-hot flashes of agony coursing through your body, nails digging into the filthy ground as you forced your gaze up and there he was, standing menacingly.

You could make out his broad chest, his wide shoulders, his tiny waist, and how his fists were curled up.

In other circumstances, you would find him drop-dead gorgeous, stunning, beautiful. Miguel isn't gross, or ugly, or any negative symptom.

But at this moment, you aren’t thinking about his beauty or his fat voluptuous ass, or his deep voice, or—

Goddamn, stop being down bad! And so you focus on the fact that you're absolutely screwed as you turned around and tried to crawl — your muscles burning and aching as you did so, panting.

”Fuck, fuck, fuck—” Your words are cut off as you heard Miguel’s callous, harsh laughter.

You could hear him approaching — footsteps slow, but loud enough to ring in the otherwise empty alleyway.

“My, my, what do we have here?” Miguel rasped, chuckling to himself; it's muffled because of his mask and you tried to crawl more, but your muscles were screaming. “And here, I thought I could never catch you, after all this time.”

You grunted, hearing Miguel’s footsteps stop before the heel of his foot digs into the lower end of your back, a quiet gasp escaping your lips.

“And now?” He presses harder on your back, making you groan, “I have you here. Alone. Maybe injured.”

You can't help but shake your head, attempting to crane it upward so your gaze can meet his own; a throbbing sensation in your head forces it back down, squeezing your eyes shut.

“I–I’m not alone—”

Miguel laughs again, digging his heel harder. “Stop the lies,” he hissed. Then, he removes his foot and you decide that it's either definitely getting locked up or trying to salvage what you can of yourself.

You begin to lift yourself up on your elbows, arms trembling as you try to use one of your web shooters to yank a broken chair down the alleyway, but Miguel is faster.

He immediately drops to sit on your fucking backside, pressing down, down, down, until you're forced on the ground again; his hand had encircled around your wrist and he slams it down, uncaring and unkind as you grimced in pain.

“Fuck!” You cried out in pain, trying to wriggle from beneath the man, but he quickly used his other hand to grip the base of your neck and slam it down onto the cement; pain explodes in your skull, affliction rushing through your blood and you weep.

“Stop fucking moving,” Miguel growled in your ear, and you do, chest wheezing with bated breaths. Everything fucking hurts and you let yourself become limp for a moment; the presence of Miguel doesn't leave. In fact, he leans away for a moment before he’s leaning over you again, minty breath fanning over the shell of your ear.

A shudder ripples through your frame and you have to hold yourself back from whimpering, feeling Miguel's hand tangle in your dark tresses as he grips them, yanking your head back.

“You’re trapped, you little shit, I have all of my crew on speed dial.” Miguel says, warning in his voice.

You squeezed your eyes shut, swallowing. Warmth pools in your stomach and you're trying, desperately, to fight against it.

Not now, you think to yourself as you could feel Miguel’s talons scraping and digging into your scalp, causing beads of crimson to drip down the slope of your temple.

And sure, like any other person, they would have cried in pain because it hurts, but you? No. You liked it.

“Fuck, I—” Your voice is breathy, quiet. You can feel yourself slowly getting hard in the suit; it constricts around your cock and you squirm, holding in the moan at the contact. “It wasn't — I was just…messing with you.”

Miguel is quiet for a moment, his breath harsh before he snarls out, “Just messing with me? You kept ruining the multiverse, and we had to clean up your damn mess! Eres estúpido,” He finished in Spanish and wow.

You swallow again, trying to clear the lumpiness and tightness in it as you whispered, “I…It wasn't like that …I just—”

Miguel slams your head back on the concert and hisses, “Save it! I don't want to hear your fucking excuses, maldito mocoso.”

His tone is harsh, yet there's a hint of huskiness and rasp in it that makes your back bow, just a little. Of course, nothing goes unnoticed with Miguel, and he grabs your neck; his talons barely missing the fabric of your suit.

“You think I haven't noticed?”

You freeze, nails digging into the dirty ground, trying to control the storm brewing. “Noticed…what?” Your reply is quiet, but Miguel is in your space, in your face, his breath fanning over your ear and over the side of your face; your mask had slipped a little to expose these features, and you were terrified that he would know who you were.

“The fact that you're enjoying this,” he breathily says, warm lips brushing along your ear. “You like this, huh? Does it turn you on when men like me chase you?”

You don't know what to say. He isn't wrong, the evidence in your suit that is too damn tight, a bead of precum dribbling from the tip of your shaft.

And — when Miguel pressed his hips against the curve of your ass — you could feel him and fuck, he’s big.

“S’fine, I—” Miguel huffs, before pushing some of your mask up a little more, making you try to claw at his arm and he quickly pins that.

“Don't you fucking dare,” Miguel growled, before he forcefully twisted your head to the side as he hungrily pressed his lips against yours; it's rough, unkind, as he devours your trembling whines. He swallows them as Miguel wrapped an arm around your neck, fingers caressing over your jaw, squeezing it until you mewl.

He pulls back, inhaling sharply as spit connects your lips before he leaned in again, kissing you once more.

This time, he's a little more gentle, swiping at your bottom lip and you open your mouth, letting him inside.

Your tongues brush against each other and you moan, swirling yours along his and he groans, scraping his talons along your cheek.

“Fuck,” he whispered against your lips, pulling away as he pressed more kisses along the curve of your cheek, then your jaw, until he huffs and pulls back. “Fuckin’ look at you, cariño, you're a mess.“ He thumbs at your swollen lips and you can't help but whimper.

Your eyes are blown wide and your face is flushed, body warm and hot and needy as your hips bucked against the ground; Miguel easily noticed and pushed your head back down, making sure to sit back on your legs for a moment as you writhed.

“What are you…what are you going to do?” You asked, voice quiet; hints of nervousness slips into your tone and you wonder, briefly, if Miguel can notice.

When he replies, he either hasn't noticed, or doesn't care enough to comment. Both seem suitable. “Use your brain, what do you think I’m going to do?”

You hear his talons rip down your suit and you gasp, trying to crawl away; you knew what was to come and you wanted no part of it.

“No, no, stop—” You cried but Miguel held you down, pinning both of your wrists and squeezing them so hard until you sob, face buried into the ground.

Yet, your cock twitches, more precum leaking and your suit is stained; Miguel is an asshole, a menace, but he makes your body so hot that it feels like it could boil over.

You want this.

It seems like Miguel has read your mind because he leans down and whispers, “Don't fucking pretend you hate this. Remember, you got hard first.”

He's not wrong.

“Miguel, I—” You gulp, accidentally brushing your ass against his clothed cock and moaning.

He leans back his hips and tsks. “If you want it, you gotta beg for it, pretty boy.”

Pretty boy. Pretty boy. Pretty—

Miguel just said you're pretty and your brain is melting, so you're nodding, words almost slurring as you whispered;

“Please.”

He doesn't shift for a moment before a shallow “fuck” escapes his lips and you can hear movement, a zipper sound, then something is rubbing along your ass and you know it's his cock.

“Can't wait until I’m filling up this ass of yours, what do you think, hm? I know you can take me. Boys like you will do anything to be fucked. Isn't that right, querido?”

You nod, moaning as he ripped more of your suit until your ass was exposed; Miguel easily maneuvers you until you were onto your hands and knees, a groan escaping your mouth as your cock hung between your thighs.

God, you were so hard, that it physically pained you.

Miguel's large hands roamed over the dip and curves of your supple ass, before squeezing it and giving a nice, rough smack; the flesh jiggles you and you groan, arching your back deeper.

“Mhm, good boy, just like that — keep that back arched,” Miguel muttered as he spread your cheeks and leaned forward, blowing warm air over your hole.

A whine escaped your lips as you wiggled your hips, desperate. “Please, Miguel, need it—”

“Is that so, slut? You think you deserve this? My tongue, lapping over your hole, hand wrapped around that pathetic cock of yours that just keeps fucking leaking,” Miguel growled out the last part as his large hand engulfs the base of your dick and squeezes tightly, forcing a muffled cry from your lips.

You were trembling, toes curling as you nodded, breaths ragged. “Please, please, need it—ngh—so badly,” you begged, nails clawing at the ground as Miguel stroked from base to tip, tightening his palm around the head as he stroked over the glans; sensitivity flowing through your veins as tears sprung to your tears.

Miguel curses, “Suenas hermoso — necesito hacerte sentir bien,” and then Miguel dives forward to push his warm tongue along the curve of your hole before flicking it, making you moan as you sink your head down onto the ground. Pleasure wracks up and down your spine, thighs trembling.

You peek one eye open as you watch Miguel wrap his hand around his cock and squeeze the base, grunting into your hole; he pulls back and spits on it before slurping, relaxing you enough so he can ease his tongue inside, making a surprised groan leave your mouth.

“Oh, god, please–” You whined, back arching deeper, trying to get a hand around your dick to release some pressure but Miguel is quicker, slapping it away.

He pulls back, making sure to collect the precum that has been leaking on his palm to smear it over your asshole, before easing one finger in; it's easy and you relax, grunting. His fingers are thick as he pushes past the tight ring of muscle, groaning himself.

“Just like that, babyboy,” Miguel’s voice is encouraging and you shudder, letting yourself relax more as he pushes all the way knuckle deep. A gasp leaves your lips and you squirm, uncomfortableness stretching across the pane and curve of your frame.

Miguel wraps his other hand around your cock, tugging on it. It's clear he’s trying to distract you. “I know you can take it, like I said.”

You pant, but nod anyway. “I—I can,” you stumble over your words and feel sweat roll down your temple.

“That’s right.”

You think about his talons and shift, “You haven't scratched me with your talons, at least, in my ass.”

Miguel thrusts another finger inside, making you grimace. Wrong thing to say, then?

“Sounds like you're asking me to do it.” He says it like a statement, not a question, and you shake your head quickly before opening your mouth; no words of such slip out, instead, a moan falls from it as he scissors you open easily.

He keeps stroking you, making you pant and moan in bliss. Miguel then proceeds to curl his fingers upward and —

“Fuck!” You cursed in the open, gasping as he hit your prostate, and you moaned wantonly. Miguel continues to press on the bundle of nerves, forcing back-to-back cries and squeals from you.

Miguel grunts, leaning over you as he eased his hand off your cock. “You sound so good, sweetheart. Like a little mutt in fucking heat, dontcha agree?”

You're nodding, but you're too deep in your pleasure to really think as you gasp, feeling him stroke over it consistently. The tightness in your balls, your stomach, in your chest slowly begins to unfurl as you claw at Miguel's forearm that rested next to your head.

“Oh, fuck, oh fuck, Miguel—ngh, hah—so close, m’so close—!” You squealed, but then he slips his fingers out, forcing your climax to settle down before it could explode. You slump down onto the floor, limbs quivering.

Miguel easily rolls you onto your back, his suit pooling around his waist and the front part tucked under his heavy balls; broad chest covered in little scars here and there, nipples hardened, waist snatched and wide shoulders hunched over as Miguel caressed over your smaller frame.

“Even though your mask is halfway up, you still look good—” You tried saying, but Miguel slaps a hand over your mouth, narrowing his eyes.

“Shut up,” and then he pulls his hand away before he lifts your legs up and settles them over his shoulders, forcing your body to slide up as one of his large hands grip your waist, the other wrapping around the base.

You look down and swallow, tongue darting out to lick your chapped lips. “I know you said, uh—”

Miguel glares at you, face scrunching in annoyance, fangs poking over his bottom lip.

“But…I don't think it’ll fit, I mean, you only prepped me a little and–”

Miguel rolls his neck as he pressed the blunt head of his cock against your wet hole, looking up; his dark, crimson eyes stare into yours as he says, “Then we’ll make it fit, you fucking slut.”

Then he pushed the head inside, slowly, but the stretch was unbearable as your back bowed and your chest was exposed; Miguel greedily touched your nipple and rolled it between his fingers, making a whine leave your lips.

“F–Fuck, Miguel,” you moaned, feeling him push his cock deeper, carving himself in and out of your hole. It felt amazing, yet it hurt so much, you knew it was gonna ache after, but in the moment? You didn't care.

He keeps pushing, panting as he wraps his hand back around your trimmed waist, squeezing it. “Fuck, you feel so good around me, so goddamn tight — might make me cum raw in you,” and then he eased more of himself into you.

You freeze, blinking as you look at him. Shit, you forgot to ask if he had a condom or not, and you know you wouldn't get pregnant but still…STDS and shit.

“Condom?” You pant, trying to push against his large chest, but he’s quick to shove you back roughly and essentially trap you so you can't move; you realize belatedly that you're in the mating press position and moan, writhing.

Miguel is all the way in and fuck it hurts yet the stretch is so good, you find your hands digging and clawing at his muscular biceps because of it. You can't tell if you want to beg for more or ask him to pull out.

“Too late for that, cariño, but it's s’fine, isn't it? Whores like you just take it like this — raw and deep so they can breed you, right?” Miguel’s voice is husky and raspy, it brings a shudder down your spine and you can't help but whimper at his words, writhing some more.

“Not—” You gasped, toes curling as you felt his hips roll forward, almost pushing you back. “Not true, Miguel, not—”

He’s shaking his head and leaning into your space, large frame pressing you down, down, down, until you whimper. “It is true, and you can't deny it. Admit it, baby, admit that you're a fucking whore.”

The thick head of his dick is pressing against your prostate and you moan, arching your back as he slowly pulls himself out, then pushes back in.

“Say it,” Miguel hissed, pushing himself out faster before ramming his hips forward, jolting you back and you have to hold onto him; your eyes are watering, cock twitching and leaking precum, it ends up smearing across the pane of your stomach as you nod.

You sob out, “Yes, yes, I’m a whore,” and moan as he grinds against your sweet spot.

“That’s it,” Miguel murmured, a wicked grin on his pretty lips. “Since you said it, I’m gonna reward you like the good little slut you are.”

Miguel begins a deep, but hard rhythmic pace as his hips and balls slap against your ass, his head near your face as he grunts in your ear; his harsh breaths fanning across your sweaty face as you cling onto him and squeal when he pulls back and forces himself back inside, each time.

“Hah—ah—yes! Miguel, please, harder—” You cry out, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as he folds you completely in half, making a gasp rip from your throat as he placed his arms next to your head and tangled his fingers with yours.

He continues to fuck you like this, making your eyes roll back as your mouth falls open; streams of unfiltered, breathy whines escape your mouth and you can barely keep your eyes open.

“Look at me,” Miguel rasped, his own voice cracking as you trembled.

Miguel buried himself to the hilt, grinding against your prostate as you sobbed, eyes flying open as you writhed.

“M–Miguel, please…” You begged hopelessly, jolting from the constant pleasure on your spot. “Keep going, need it, need you to fuck me stupid and–”

He looked at you and then boldly pushed your mask off, gazing into your watery eyes as he brushed away your locks. Fear sinks deep and low into your stomach and you quickly look away, trying — (failing) — to hide your face.

“Chico hermoso,” Miguel whispers, before using his hand to brush off his own mask, then he dips down to kiss your bruised lips. It's soft, too soft, before he rested his forehead against yours.

You feel your throat tighten. “M–Miguel?” Your voice breaks.

Then, he pulls away and settles his arms around your head once more before saying; “You wouldn't look at me like I asked.”

Miguel then keeps pounding into you, mercilessly and ruthlessly as you hold onto him, nails carving into his flesh. Your cock is trapped between both of your sweaty bodies and you wrap around him, moaning into his ear.

“Taking me so fuckin’ well like I knew you would,” Miguel groaned, thrusting into you faster. “Been wanting to do this since I laid eyes on you, muñeca.”

You rake your nails down his broad back and hear him moan, hips spluttering before he resumes; not stopping, even though your limbs are trembling as you feel your stomach begin to tighten.

The orgasm from earlier is creeping on you and your back barely arched as your head pushed back against the ground, eyes rolling back. You can feel it getting closer, rolling in the pit of your stomach, settling beneath your bones and in your cock.

“Miguel, please, please, s’close, please–!” You cried, holding him closer as he erratically rutted into you, panting in your ear.

The rope in your stomach is loosening, forcing you to hold onto Miguel even more and you sob, “Miguel!”

He groans, pulling back to rest his forehead against yours. “You wanna cum for me, hm?”

Nodding, you claw at his back again. “M’gonna cum, fuck, I’m so close—ngh—let me cum, Miguel, please, I need it–”

Miguel huffs and tangles his fingers with yours again, removing his face from your forehead to whisper into your ear, “Beg for it, mi amor.”

Your voice pitches into desperation as your orgasm begins to unravel, “Please, please, please, Miguel I need it, I need to cum—ngh—please, I’m desperate, I’ll do anything just to cum, let me cum,” and you sob, tears rushing down your cheeks as Miguel groaned.

“Go ahead, baby, let go for me — be a good boy and cum for me,” Miguel rasps and you do, your orgasm untangling at the seams as it washes over you in waves; your heart thrumming hard as you wailed into his shoulder, body jerking and spasming from the intensity.

Ropes of cum paint both of your stomachs but Miguel doesn't even seem to care as he ruthlessly fucks into you. He’s animalistic in the way he pounds into you, unrelenting and unforgiving.

You can't even formulate a response or a moan because of how hard he’s fucking you; all you can do is hold onto him and rut your softening cock against his toned stomach, the aftershocks of your orgasm still making you spasm.

“Gonna fill you up sweetheart and breed your pretty hole — joder cariño, ya voy..” Miguel hisses, giving a few more hard thrusts before his hips stutter as he lets out a breathy moan. His talons accidentally dig into your hands and cause blood to spill because of how much he’s coming.

Both of your breathing is heavy and ragged as he slumps against you, releasing your hands as Miguel sighed, propping himself onto his elbows.

“I hurt you—”

You shrug and mumble, “S’fine. I’ve been a brat recently.”

Miguel hums before his tongue darts out to lick up the blood easily, soothing his tongue over the cuts before he pulls back, grunting. “All cleaned up.”

“It’ll heal, Mig, so it's fine,” you stressed and the man huffs, nuzzling against your cheek with a grunt.

His voice is muffled as he says, “I know, but still. We didn't plan that part out.”

“You know how much I’m a slut for pain, though, so is it really a problem?”

Miguel is quiet before he pulls himself away and gently eases his softening cock from your hole, which immediately allows his seed to spill from your asshole and you flush, cheeks in a deep shade of red.

“No need to be embarrassed, pretty boy, I did just fuck you in this alleyway, knowing anyone could see us,” Miguel brushes away your hair and gives you…a small smile? You can't tell because it's so dark, but his red irises stick out and your hand strokes along his sharp cheekbone.

“Yeah, you're right. We definitely needed this, but, uh, can we go? I’m absolutely starved.”

Miguel chuckled. “Of course, baby.”

Back at the apartment, Miguel gives you a massage, a well-deserved blowjob, and fucks you in multiple positions after you beg for it.

[autisticlenaluthor]

Garden

After tutoring, Lena spends her afternoons in the empty backyard where nobody bothers her, pushing dirt around with a stick.

She draws faces, bumblebees, and butterflies, all in the spot that one day, is going to be a garden. And when that gets boring, which it does rather quickly, Lena begins to pace the strip of grass. She walks back and forth with her eyes fixated on the ground, using her stick like a cane.

Sometimes, she’ll look up over the top of the fence. There, Lena can vaguely see into the yard owned by the other half of the building. From the ground, there’s not much to look at except red metal bars and the four gray chains that hang off them.

Lena knows that together, they make a swing set. She can see the full thing from her bedroom window. It has two swings even though only one kid lives next door.

Lena isn’t sure if she’s supposed to know all this. But sometimes when she’s meant to be working on her flash-cards, she stares through the glass, at the blonde girl playing below.

She’ll see her hop off the swings and try to climb the metal poles like a monkey. There– she throws her head back and shakes out her hair before jumping down and landing on her hands and knees like a superhero. Other times, she hangs from the middle of the bar and swings back and forth. She knows how to hook her legs over the metal and dangle upside down with her arms swinging behind her.

A few times, she’s gotten stuck like that, and Lena’s watched her mom pull her down.

She replays the memory in her head as she turns the corner of her yard for what feels like the millionth time.

Dropping her stick, Lena releases a frustrated huff. She’s sure she’s been walking for hours by now. She has no idea when her new Dad will be home from work or if he’ll even want to talk to her when he is. Lex has already pushed her out of his room, and the nanny is inside cooking dinner– something French and gross sounding that Lena already knows she’s going to hate.

Turning her head, she lowers her brow and gives the wooden fence separating the yards a good hard stare. It’s made out of old wood with stains and mossy green stuff. On multiple occasions, she’s heard Lionel talking about hiring someone to tear it down to replace it because it’s just another eyesore in this ugly, old home.

Lena doesn’t think the house is ugly but it certainly is old. Maybe more than a thousand years. And the fence is probably even older. One of the boards has a hole in it, about a foot from the ground, exposing a glimpse of the flowers on the other side.

Curiosity piqued, Lena kicks her stick away and makes her way over to the fence. She squats down in the dirt and squints her eyes, then presses her hands into the wood. She tries to see as much as she can through the hole but the blobs of orange and red block her view.

She thinks for a minute, brow furrowed, before scooting away just far enough that she has room to stick her index finger through the hole. From there, Lena wiggles it around and wonders if she should call out to get someone's attention.

Back home– at her real home in the country, she wouldn’t have thought twice before yelling. She used to yell with her mom when they played in the garden all the time. Sometimes, her mom would even yell with her – just not in the scary way like other grown-ups do.

No, Lena’s real mom would call out pretend spells from their favorite fairy book while Lena shrieked with excitement, bouncing around and flapping her hands because what if a real fairy found them? She’d cackle with laughter when her belly got tickled after a bath, wrapped in a fluffy white towel made for someone five times her size, and jump through mud puddles in her favorite sparkly rain boots.

Her clothes were soft and always felt nice on her skin– all bright colors with different patterns and shapes. She used to wear her favorite shirt, the one with all the dinosaurs on it, almost every day. And when her mom let her pick her outfit, Lena would pair it with the pink tutu that made her feel like a ballerina, her fairy wings for when it was time to play in the garden, and, of course, her sparkly rain boots.

Here, things were different. Grown-ups were quiet and they didn’t play games. The yelling only happened at night and when it did, it was the kind that made her want to hide in the closet. The closet that was filled with itchy, boring clothes without dinosaurs or glitter.

As Lena looks back at the fence, she frowns. If she yells and Lex hears her, he’ll tell the nanny and she’ll get another consequence. So she continues to stare through the hole, zoning out as she wiggles her finger until she hears a:

“Hello?”

The voice is high-pitched and followed by a fierce giggle. Lena pictures the blonde girl from the swings on the other side and wonders how long she’s been there.

Without warning, a bright blue eye appears in the center of the hole.

Lena scrambles backwards and her own eyes grow wide. Her heart pounds, her mind rushing a mile a minute. She hadn’t thought this far ahead- she wasn’t prepared, she doesn’t know what to say!

This girl could be mean like Lex, she could be laughing at her. She could yell at her for poking her finger through the hole or worse, she could tell her mom who would tell their nanny who would tell Lillian who–

“Are you a spy?”

Lena swallows. She shakes her head and draws her legs in close. She should’ve just kept walking. The kids at her new school aren't as nice as at her old one and she isn’t sure she can handle another bully.

Silently, Lena watches as the other girl mimics her by poking her own finger through the hole, then giggles once more.

“Are you playing a game?”

Lena shakes her head. She pulls back even further and hugs herself as tight as she can.

“Well, do you want to play a game?”

“Um…” She isn’t sure why she says anything. She’d just wanted to get a look– maybe touch the air on the other side. But now the girl is talking and she isn’t being mean. She’s aggressive with her excitement, sure, but the scariness it ignites isn’t like the scariness Lena’s used to.

“What game?”

The girl goes silent for a second. She’s no longer holding her eye to the hole so all Lena can see is a flash of blonde hair and the blue on her shirt.

“I dunno,” she says. “Why were you poking your finger in here?”

Lena shrugs. She leans forward and rests her chin on her knee. The girl's voice is high and soft. It makes Lena think of caramel.

“Just, um… got bored.”

“Don’t you have any toys?”

Lena shakes her head.

“I can’t see you, silly!” The girl exclaims. “You gotta talk!”

“Just… um… chess,” Lena says. “But I had-a play it a lot.”

“Ummmm, well, I could play a game with you,” the girl says. “And we can be friends! My name’s Kara and I’m five and three-quarters! What’s your name?”

“Lena.” Lena removes her arms from around herself and puts them on either side of herself, her heart rate finally starting to even out. “‘m five.”

“Hi, Lena,” Kara responds, smiling bright like the sun. “Your voice is funny. I like it.”

“Oh… that’s ‘cause I’m from Ireland.”

“Where’s I-ruh-land?”

“Far.”

Lena leans forward and tries to look through the hole again. She hugs herself tightly as she moves, her fingers moving up and down her torso the way her mom’s used to.

“I flew a plane,” she says. “But… um… I was only four. A long time ago.”

“Was it scary?”

“Yeah… but…” Lena looks down, knitting her brow with thought. “I was small. And now I’m kinda scared of planes but, ‘cause I’m a lot bigger, it’s not as much. But… so… when I get really big, like, when I’m ten, I wouldn’t be scared at all. ‘Cause I’d be big.”

Kara hums and nods knowingly.

“I’m scared of volcanoes,” she says.

“There’s no volcanoes in Top-o-lis.”

“Yeah, that’s what my mommy says.”

“But… then why are you scared?”

“I dunno.” Kara laughs. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Um… green?”

“Mine’s blue. Did you know I can do a cartwheel?”

Lena furrows her brow. “How would I know that?”

“‘Cause I see you watching me in your window,” Kara says matter-of-factly. “I tried to watch you too but all you do is walk in circles with a stick.”

“Yeah! ‘Cause I already told you, I don’t have any toys!” Lena frustratedly retorts, any remnants of her anxiety having been forgotten. “Don’t you pay attention?”

“Well, then, why don’t you just come to my house?” Kara asks. “We could go on the swings and I have lots of toys and a dollhouse we could play with.”

Lena’s about to answer when a door creaks open loudly behind them. It’s followed by the sound of Kara quietly groaning and mumbling something unintelligible to herself.

“Kara, love, come on, it’s time for dinner,” a voice calls out. It’s an older woman– her mom, Lena figures.

“No!” Kara cries. “I’m talking to the girl in the other house– just gimmie five minutes and I’ll come inside!”

Her voice is shrill and high– it makes Lena want to cover her ears.

Somehow, she resists the urge and instead, pulls her knees back into her chest. She considers leaning over to tell Kara through the hole not to talk back because, maybe she doesn’t know yet, but if you’re disrespectful, you get consequences. You have to listen so the yelling doesn’t start.

But if the woman notices Lena whispering she might get mad at her too. She’ll tell Lillian that Lena was being distracting and Lillian will get mad again.

“Kara–”

“Please!” Kara begs, the word long and drawn out. “Pleasepleaseplease just five minutes?”

“Honey, I already gave you five minutes,” the older woman responds. “It’s time to come in now before your food gets cold, okay? I made mac-and-cheese like you wanted.”

She says the last bit in a sing-songy voice like the one Lena’s pre-k teacher would use when she called the class over for circle time. She isn’t loud or angry, she's just… she’s nice.

“But Mommy, I was just asking if Lena can come over, maybe, this weekend or a different day like– like on my birthday or after school so we can go on the swings and play in my room.”

There’s a moment of silence before Kara’s mom sighs.

“Okay, you can ask Lena and then it’s time to come inside. You understand?” She asks.

Kara nods eagerly and scrambles back to the fence, pushing her face right up against the hole.

“Lena!” She exclaims. “Do you wanna come to my house on a different day for a playdate?”

Lena doesn’t say anything. She’s too focused on Kara’s mom and the sound of her voice. How soft it was, like it’s never been raised before– not even a single time. How even when Kara whines, she doesn’t change. She stays kind and soft, like the kind of mother who means it when they say I love you.

Lena hugs herself tighter as her mind begins to wander.

She wants mac-and-cheese too, not gross French food from her nanny. She wants the orange kind that comes out of the box that her mom used to make, sometimes three days a week. She wants to eat it on the couch with the TV on, watching cartoons after a long day of running through puddles and reading books about dinosaurs and the ocean. She wants her mom to talk to her in the soft voice that Kara’s mom uses; so quiet and gentle, without an ounce of anger to be found.

Lena’s face feels hot as she thinks about it, her eyes welling up with tears. She can still see the old house in the back of her mind– the grassy overgrown lawn and her little playhouse in the back. Her sparkly rain boots and closet with clothes that don’t itch– clothes she actually liked, that her mom would help her pick out.

Why does Kara get to have it and not her?

“Lena?”

Lena’s lips pull down into a frown. Her chin quivers and quakes– eyes stinging like they’re on fire.

She wants to run right back to her mom.

Sometimes she still thinks maybe when she comes downstairs– she’ll be there in the kitchen making breakfast. She’ll have tracked down the new house after months of searching and when Lena runs to her, she’ll pick her up and hold her so tightly– tighter than she’s ever been held before– then tell her it’s time to go home.

The hole in Lena’s heart will get stitched back up. Her aches and pains won’t be gone but she’ll be able to live with them because finally, they will have been tended to. She’ll be scarred and stapled, sure, but at least she’ll have been pieced back together.

Lena does all she can do to keep from crying in front of her new friend but the effort isn’t enough. The tears are falling– hot and furious. They make her want to scream because it isn’t fair. None of it is fair and gosh, she just wants to go home.

Determined not to let Kara see her, Lena scrambles to her feet and brushes the dirt off her thighs. As Kara calls her name again, Lena sprints right back to her house.

[randxmthxughts]

your lips, my lips, apocalypse - neteyam x omaticaya ! reader

summary: when y/n hangs out with the women at the lab and decides to put on lipstick to feel pretty, her friends start to make fun of her. but not neteyam, he thinks she looks cute

contains: fluff, fluff, FLUFF, fluffy Neteyam, bf!Neteyam, bf material

wc: 1k

a/n: basically, i’ve been thinking about the sully kids hanging around the labs all the time and being fascinated with normal human stuff, especially with the makeup. then i saw this trend on tiktok, and i find it so cute and adorable, i wanted to do something similar with neteyam. so don’t thank me for the extra neteyam fluff you’re getting today… actually, do thank me please, i love the encouragement ♡

masterlist

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Whenever the Sully kids would visit the science facility, you were always there to tag along. At first, it was because Neteyam had to keep an eye on his siblings, and you were basically attached by the hip to him. But as your visits became more frequent, you found yourself growing fascinated with the things humans brought with them from the Earth. The small gadgets they used, the clothes they wore, but especially the makeup. You could sit and watch women fixing up their makeup for hours. The way they would open their mouths while coating their eyelashes with thick black paint, or the way they’d change the color of their lips every time you saw them. One time you even noticed marks of the said colors on one of the men in the lab, and while the others found it gross, your heart fluttered at the thought of leaving similar marks on Neteyam. 

"Do you want to try it?" Marissa nodded at you through the mirror, as she finished applying her bright red lipstick, "Come on, it will be fun."

You hesitate for a second before nodding your head in agreement. The idea of seeing yourself with painted lips has always intrigued you. Marissa stands up to level herself with you and holds up two lipsticks, one is bright red - the one she's wearing, the other one is pink.

"Which one do you want?"

When you catch your reflection in the mirror for the first time, you can't help but break out into a giddy smile. The pink lipstick on your lips makes them appear bolder on your face, and your eyes are instinctively drawn to them. Marissa watches your reaction with a grin and compliments you on how beautiful you look. You too feel special, the same way you feel special when you dress up for celebrations. 

You jump to your feet soon after, eager to find your friends and show off your new look. But your heart shatters into a thousand of pieces when you see their confused faces. Spider and Kiri stare at you with widened eyes, and when Lo'ak follows their gaze to you, he bursts into laughter.

"Lo’ak, shut up," Kiri slaps her brother but it is too late.

"It just looks... weird," Spider adds with a whisper.

You squirm under their stares and make your way towards the exit, eager to get away. But your plans are quickly derailed when you bump into Neteyam. You don’t want him to see you like this.

"Whoa, where are you rushing off to?" Neteyam asks, as he places his hands on your shoulders. You hang your head low, avoiding his gaze.

"Nowhere," you mumble, trying to shake him off. "I'm going home. Just let me."

"What's wrong, yawne?" Neteyam lifts your chin up with his fingers.

You watch as his pupils widen when he catches a sight of pink on your lips. Your eyes threaten with tears, and your lip starts quivering involuntarily out of embarrassment. Surely, he must think you look ugly too. Before Neteyam can even open his mouth, you storm out of the facility.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

When Neteyam sees you quietly sobbing in your hammock, his chest tightens with ache. After finding out the way his siblings reacted to you earlier and scolding them for hurting his beloved, he practically ran to talk to you. 

"Yawne," Neteyam says softly before scooching himself in your hammock.

As you try to wipe away the tears of shame, Neteyam beats you to it, his hands gently cupping your cheeks. You know he hates it when you cry, always blaming himself for it. His face grimaces with pain, while he tries to dry the wetness off your skin. 

Neteyam's gaze then shifts to your lips, and you cringe, remembering that you still had the stupid lipstick on.

"I forgot to wipe it off," you mumble, embarrassed. 

"Leave it. I want you to keep it on."

"But I look ugly with it," you sniff.

"Nothing can ever make you look ugly, syulang," Neteyam leans in, nuzzling your face, "I think you look very pretty."

"You truly mean it? The others were laughing at me..."

"They are stupid children," he scoffs.

"They are."

"You know I don't like it when you're upset,” Neteyam pulls away slightly to look at you, his voice soft and soothing as he speaks, "Will you please smile for me?"

His words make you feel giddy, knowing that he speaks to you in a way that he doesn't with anyone else. You smile right away, eager to please him. He can’t help but smile back.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks cautiously, "I don't want to mess up your lipstick."

"I have a better idea," you chuckle.

You lean in towards Neteyam, and instead of kissing his lips, you plant a soft one on the corner of his mouth. His lips twitch at your touch, but he patiently lets you take your time. Pulling away slightly, you examine the lipstick mark you left on his skin. It’s a little faint, so you press another kiss to his cheek, this time harder. Then another one to his temple, and his forehead. Neteyam laughs under you, fully aware of the kiss marks you’re now leaving all over him. Finally, when his hands catch you by the waist and pull you onto his lap, you can't help but admire your work. Neteyam beams at you, his face and neck covered in pink marks of your lips.

"You’re done now?" he asks, noting your satisfied grin.

"Hmm, I think that’s enough," you tease, "Now everybody will know that you’re mine."

"Everybody already knows that, yawne," Neteyam grins, "Now can you finally kiss me on the lips?"

[d0llcuries]

𝓕𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝓮𝗋𝗏𝗌!!!

so like, what's actually going on with you people? the neteyam x reader hashtag used to be a place full of creativity and heartfelt writing—a space where fans could explore soft, beautiful moments with one of the most beloved characters in pandora’s world. before it was overtaken by a wave of inappropriate, distasteful content, it was the go-to for intricate one-shots, vivid imagery, and elegant prose that painted neteyam in the light he deserves. we had stunning stories, cute thumbnails, and a community that cared about the integrity of the character.

but now? well, it’s js turned into something unsettling, and honestly, we need to talk about it. let’s get one thing straight: neteyam is fifteen years old. he’s a kid. a literal child. writing explicit content about him, or “aging him up” to justify it, is not only wrong—it’s flat-out disturbing. the excuse of “aging him up” doesn’t hold water and quite frankly, it's just a sick loophole to avoid addressing what’s really going on. there’s nothing creative, tasteful, or beautiful about that kind of content. if you’re writing or requesting sm*t about a minor, you are stepping into extremely problematic territory. and yes, we see you, and yes, it’s gross.

we need to revamp this hashtag. bring it back to what it used to be when predominantly teens like myself wrote fics for it. neteyam deserves more than to be reduced to uncomfortable, inappropriate stories. he’s a complex, deeply compassionate character, and that’s where the focus should be. his bond with the reader can be tender, full of laughter, exploration, and affection, without crossing the line into something that never should’ve been there in the first place.

i’m going to start writing fics for neteyam, and you can rest assured they’ll be strictly fluff—nothing suggestive, no innuendo, nada. this is going to be about restoring a corner of the fandom that’s been tarnished. let’s bring back oneshots that are cute, clever, and creative. no more ai-generated eyesores as thumbnails (they're ugly asl i'm sorry), no more crossing lines that should never have been crossed. if you wany you can send me your requests—fluff only. let’s return to the neteyam x reader content that reflects the beauty and depth of the character, not this bizarre and deeply uncomfortable trend that’s somehow taken over.

also all the p0rn bots are insane like?? maybe when this hashtag stops being associated with immoral smvt then the bot's will stop flashing you as you scroll :3

[naughtyneganjdm]

The Perfect Costume

Summary: Negan goes to a Halloween store with his family in search of costumes to wear.

Characters: Negan & the reader (OC, second person)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50991043

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, a little smut (not very detailed), dirty minded Negan, etc

Notes: This is meant to be a sweet little fic with Negan being naughty in the way he talks and the smut is very miniscule and not very detailed. Just a short little Halloween fic. Enjoy!

“Any idea what kind of costume you have in mind kiddo?” Negan questioned following around your five-year-old daughter while she ran down the aisles of the Halloween store you were in. Negan had your eight-month-old son Noah strapped to his chest in a baby carrier while he held onto your hand. “Emma? Baby girl. Are we looking for something that is cute? Scary? Some kind of animal? We’re running on nothing here baby.”

“I don’t know daddy,” Emma exclaimed, stopping in her tracks to look back at Negan with a frown. Tossing her hands up, her dimples sank in looking around the aisle. “There is so much here! When I see it, I just know I’ll know that’s it!”

“Remember we’re looking for all of our costumes baby girl,” you reminded your daughter knowing that she had begged both you and Negan to pick everyone’s costume this year. “So you have four costumes to pick out.”

“I know, I know,” Emma blew off the responsibility of it all causing Negan to snort since she was so lost inside of the store that she really didn’t have a care in the world what either one of you were saying. “Finding a good Halloween costume is…really…really important. It can determine how much candy I get this year. Y’know?”

“Solid point baby girl,” Negan snorted, his fingers tightening around yours while you continued to follow your daughter around the Halloween store. It was like she was lost in a toy store and she was amazed with everything often stopping when she saw something that she thought was cool.

“Daddy!” she seemed in awe of something while she stepped before it. It was a monster mask that when you pushed a button, it looked like it oozed blood. An amused bout of laughter fell from her throat when she threw her head back to look at Negan. “It’s so ugly! I love it!”

It made both of you laugh, but her awe didn’t last long before she was running off to go look at something else that caught her eyes, “The interest lasted ten seconds before she’s off.”

“She is my daughter. She can’t focus on just one thing,” Negan snickered at the thought trying to keep up with Emma while she looked over everything. “I will take credit for all this pent-up energy. I have a hard time focusing too.”

“You? No,” you teased Negan, hitting him on his shoulder playfully. “You aren’t like that at all.”

“I notice the sarcasm in your tone,” Negan chuckled, his head lowering down with his lips hovering in over yours. Bringing your lips together in a lingering kiss, you heard the disgusted breath falling from your daughter. Pulling away slightly, you saw her staring up at the two of you with her hands on her hips. It made Negan let out a big belly laugh, his nose nuzzling in against the side of your neck with the anger that she was sharing for the two of you kissing. “I feel like a young boy getting scolded by my parents.”

“What did I tell the two of you about kissing?” Emma folded her arms out in front of her chest in attempts to lecture you. “Dial it back on the kissing. It’s gross.”

“It’s my way of telling your mother that I love her kiddo,” Negan pressed a faint kiss over the side of your cheek before kneeling down, hooking his arm around Noah who let out a small squeal when they were eye level with Emma. “Kisses aren’t a bad thing.”

“The last time the two of you got super kissy, I ended up with a little brother,” Emma blurt out causing Negan to choke and then laugh. Looking up at you with his big hazel eyes, Negan couldn’t help but smile and nod his head. “And while I love Noah, we don’t need another baby in the family. Not now at least. He cries a lot during the middle of the night.”

“That’s because he’s a baby sweetheart,” you reminded your daughter, stepping forward to place your hand in over your daughter’s shoulder in a tender squeeze. “Babies do that.”

“Imagine two babies doing that,” Emma circled her finger around Noah and his big eyes followed the movements of his sister’s finger from where he was strapped to Negan’s chest. “Noah is cute. And I like how he smiles, but the crying? No thank you!”

“You know, you used to cry too sweet pea,” Negan reached out to pull Emma in closer to him, careful enough to keep Noah safe while he peppered kisses over your daughter’s face. At first, she tried to hold it in, but the more Negan kissed at her face she couldn’t help but giggle. Her small hands placed in over the sides of Negan’s face and he laughed along with her.

“Your beard is itchy,” she tipped up on her toes to press a kiss over the side of Negan’s cheek. “I love you daddy, it’s just embarrassing how much you and mommy kiss. At home, okay. But in public, you need to cool it.”

“Got it,” Negan’s nose wrinkled and he gazed up at you again from where you were standing beside them. “We’ll work on it.”

“No you won’t,” Emma sighed gazing between both of you. Throwing her hands up in the air, she dramatically shook her head and shrugged. “I’m just gonna have to get used to babies. So many babies.”

“Emma,” you laughed watching your daughter turn on her heel after she gave Noah a quick kiss on his head.

“I’m okay with lots of babies,” Negan pointed out, letting out a grunt when he got up from his knees. Glancing back at him, you heard Negan laugh and shrug his shoulders. “I like being a dad. And I like what we have to do in order to make babies.”

“What does that mean?” Emma stopped in her tracks making your face flush over with a warmth when you reached for Emma’s hand.

“Nothing,” you immediately answered for Negan hearing his amused chuckle from behind you. “Now let’s find us some good costumes here.”

“Yeah. Maybe we should talk about what we are going to want for daddy’s costume. Maybe a vampire. I’ve got the looks and the charm for a vampire,” Negan suggested trying to keep up with the two of you while you looked through the aisles again. “Or maybe I can be like a zombie baseball player. Or like a wizard or something.”

“A wizard?” Emma stopped walking to look back at Negan. “What’s cool about a wizard?”

“I don’t know, they do magic and what not,” Negan looked to some of the costumes that were hanging.

“You’re not magical,” Emma heard Negan snort and he turned to look back at his daughter. “You’ve never been interested in magic tricks.”

“That’s not true,” Negan held his finger up in the air, his dimples sinking in when he let out a long exhale. “You should see the magic trick I can do when it comes to your mother’s pants.”

“Knock it off,” you groaned out, rolling your eyes noticing the mischievous sound that followed.

“What does he mean?” Emma looked up at you with big eyes and you shook your head. “Mom?”

“He’s just being silly,” you responded to your daughter who turned away and you let out a yelp when Negan moved in behind you to pinch your bottom. Emma stopped, giving you a strange expression with the sound you made. “Sorry honey.”

“I think it’s pretty magical how fast I can get your pants off,” Negan whispered in your ear and you rolled your eyes, pushing your hand into Negan’s shoulder to put some distance between the two of you. “I could be a killer clown. I think I’m pretty funny.”

“No,” Emma slurred out her words causing Negan to huff out loud. Emma was denying all the suggestions that Negan was throwing out for his personal costume and you found it amusing how she was ignoring her father’s ideas.

“How about this one for you mama?” Negan called out pulling a costume out that was very skimpy with devil horns on it. “Or, if you don’t like that one…”

Negan pulled out something similar and held it up to show that it was an angel costume, “This one is just as nice and we can use it after the kids go to sleep.”

“That looks cold,” Emma noted after you gave your husband a glare. “It’s going to be cold at night daddy. She doesn’t want something like that.”

“I was just thinking for after we go trick or treating,” Negan gazed between the two before setting the angel costume down and grabbing the devil one. “I think I’ll get this. Just in case.”

“You’re weird,” Emma commented, squeezing her fingers tighter around yours and it made you snicker. “Why would you want to wear a costume when you’re not trick or treating?”

“He’s just being goofy like daddy often is,” you gave Negan a glance and he tipped his head to the side. “Has anything caught your eye yet honey?”

“So many things! That’s the problem,” Emma exclaimed gazing around at everything in frustration. “I love it all.”

“Well you are going to have multiple Halloweens after this honey,” you suggested hearing Noah coo out and you looked back to see that he was curling his fingers around Negan’s index finger holding tightly to it. “I think your little brother is hungry.”

“He will eat soon, we just have to figure this out,” Emma insisted tugging firmly on your hand to pull you toward a section of the store where she had seemed to have the most interest.

“I found two things that I think you should get for me,” Negan’s voice drew your attention when he returned with trophies in his hands. Holding them out to you, you accepted one to see that it said biggest cock on the block and then reached for the other to see that it said pussy eating champion on it. You choked back on your laughter trying not to draw attention to the items that he had grabbed. You were thankful your kids were too small to understand these things at this point. “They fit, right?”

“Did you go out in search of the naughty section of the store?” you shook your head in disbelief hearing his amused laughter follow. “You need to chill.”

“I don’t understand, why would you want to eat cats?” Emma’s voice beckoned the both of you and you saw that she was standing up on her toes to read the trophies that Negan had grabbed. “Daddy, you’re allergic to cats. Your eyes would puff up and that’s just gross. Who eats cats?”

The immediate laughter that followed from Negan when you noticed two other parents staring out at you in disbelief made your face hot with embarrassment but you couldn’t help but laugh too at the situation. Both from your daughter’s innocence and the situations Negan always put you in.

“You’re a dick,” you breathed out under your breath knowing that by the wickedness of Negan’s laughter that he was proud of himself.

“Why is no one answering me?” Emma seemed frustrated, but Negan walked off to go return the trophies. “Why would he want to eat cats?”

“He doesn’t want to eat cats baby,” you assured your daughter with a sigh noticing that Negan was in quite a spunky mood today. “Let’s find those costumes.”

“You both are weird today,” Emma noted and you didn’t disagree with her there. When Emma found something, you saw her eyes light up at the sight of it. “Mommy! I’ve got it! This can be daddy’s costume!”

When Negan returned, he was singing one of the Halloween songs to Noah that was clearly on his mind.

“Your daughter found you something,” you pointed to the outfit that Emma had found for Negan and he looked up letting out a long, lingering groan. “This is yours.”

“Oh come on,” Negan grumbled seeing Emma look back at him at excitement.

“Isn’t it great daddy?” Emma held the costume out and Negan looked to you, his dimples sucking in when he breathed loudly.

“Yeah, honey, it’s just great,” Negan sighed, feigning a smile knowing that he would do anything for his daughter. “I can’t wait to try it on.”

---

“Daddy this is so freaking cool!” Emma boasted running down the driveway from the home she had just trick or treated at with you. The ears from her Tigger costume bounced when she went to give Negan a hug, slamming into him with excitement. “I told you the right costume would get me all the best candy. That woman gave me full sized candy bars,” she pulled back to reveal the candy that was in her bag. “You should go up with me next time so maybe we can get more.”

“I’m super happy for you kiddo,” Negan reached down to pick up Emma while you carried Noah. “You know, I get why you made your little brother Piglet, but is there a reason you let your mama be a pretty witch and I had to be Winnie the Pooh?”

Involuntarily a laugh fell from your throat when you looked to Negan and the costume he was wearing. It was an oversized the Winnie the Pooh costume and you could see his face flushing over with red when a few kids from the school he worked at walked by.

“You always call mommy honey, so I just thought it fit daddy!” Emma exclaimed, clinging tightly to Negan while he made it to the next house. “You tell me I’m bouncing off the walls all the time. So I make the best Tigger. Noah is always hungry and he’s small. So Piglet makes sense y’know?”

“And mama gets to be a pretty witch? Why wasn’t she Eeyore instead?” Negan wondered looking to you knowing that you found amusement in all of this.

“Because mommy isn’t sad like that. She’s pretty and I think witches are cool!” Emma explained with a tiny laugh when she wiggled out of Negan’s arms to reach for his hand to eagerly lead him up toward the door and you followed not far behind with Noah. Once you finished up at that house, when you got to the bottom of the driveway Emma hugged Negan again causing another groan to fall from his throat. “Come on guys.”

“You know, I love her hugs,” Negan began as you followed Emma on the sidewalk as she continued to skip to the next house, “but I can’t wait until she gets a little bit taller. Every single time she runs and hugs me, she headbutts me right in the nuts.”

“Negan,” you couldn’t help but laughed watching him reach down with his big Winnie the Pooh paw to try to adjust himself in a way that wouldn’t draw attention to it, but it looked pretty ridiculous.

“I’m not kidding. I’ve been headbutted in the nuts about fifty times today alone,” Negan informed you with a tiny rumble of a laugh. “And that shit hurts. Even being in a padded chubby bear costume.”

“Come on daddy!” Emma called out reaching for Negan who eagerly stumbled up the driveway with his daughter. Emma was so excited and Noah was really just enjoying the lights and all the costumes, letting out small laughs from where he was strapped to your chest in his baby carrier.

Negan urged Emma to keep going until the very end of trick or treating and by the time you had gotten home, Negan had grabbed Noah and went to the kitchen table to help sort through the candy that they had gotten. You couldn’t help but be in awe of your husband seeing him sitting at the kitchen table with both your son and daughter sitting on his lap still dressed in his Winnie the Pooh costume. The amount of pictures you took tonight were ridiculous, but you couldn’t help how cute you found everything.

At the end of the night, Negan had fallen asleep on the couch still in his costume with both Emma and Noah on his chest after watching movies together. You had taken your costume off and you were cleaning up things, but you couldn’t help but be in awe of the way your husband was with your children. As silly or ridiculous as he was, Negan always showed up when it came to being a dad. He made things fun for your children and he showed them endless amounts of love.

The sound of movement drew your attention seeing the way that Negan carefully moved off the couch to carry both a sleeping Emma over his shoulder and Noah in his other arm, “You need some help there Pooh?”

“I’ve got this,” Negan assured you and you followed him up the stairs of your home to the second floor. Watching Negan put your children to bed helped you to realize how much you truly loved your husband. He was a great father and there was no question that was the sexiest thing about him. After he peppered Emma with kisses, Negan followed you back out into the hallway and threw his hands up in the air. “I need to get this costume off.”

“Let me help you,” you reached for his hand, laughing when the paw accepted your grasp. Leading him to the bedroom, you closed the door and moved around Negan to undo the zipper at the back of the costume. Negan pushed down the head of the costume and grunted when he tugged his arms out of the material. “You know, I thought you were pretty hot when I first met you. Wearing that leather jacket looking like a bad ass.”

“Yeah?” Negan’s eyebrow arched in curiosity, sitting down on the edge of the bed. His hair was wet from being sweaty while he worked to get the legs of the costume off. When he was done, he tossed the costume aside and was sitting before you in a white t-shirt and black athletic pants that he had worn underneath the costume.

“But nothing tops how sexy I found you tonight,” you informed him, moving forward to curl your finger in underneath his chin to get him to look up at you. There was an amused expression over his features while you caressed over his face. “Dressed in a costume you hated, making our children happy being the sweetest father.”

“Ah,” Negan snickered, turning his head to the side to place a kiss over the center of your palm. “You have a Winnie the Pooh kink, huh?”

“Oh stop,” you rolled your eyes hearing his laughter follow and he tugged you down to fall in over his lap. Hooking his arms around you, Negan started to tease you with the idea of kissing you, but it was just a faint brush of his lips over yours. “I just love you. So much.”

“I love you more,” Negan hummed, finally claiming your lips in a kiss. Your kisses grew in strength and before you knew it, you found yourself at the center of your bed with Negan crawling in over you after he managed to strip off the remainder of his clothes. “It’s been a while since we’ve gotten to be with one another like this. We usually have one of the kids with us at all times.”

“Then we better take advantage,” you suggested, brushing your fingers through his wet hair drawing him to your lips again letting out a soft moan when he entered you. The rolling of his hips was slow over you while he took time to pamper you. “Negan.”

“We should have grabbed that devil costume before we did this,” Negan hummed against the side of your neck making you both laugh. Dropping his forehead against yours, Negan’s winces grew louder with every thrust he made over you. “Fuck.”

“Yes,” you purred in his ear, curling your fingers into the curls at the back of his neck.

“Yeah?” Negan breathed out, his hazel eyes locked on yours when every move he made grew in strength. The sound of crying filled the air over the baby monitor and Negan let out an overwhelmed sound, his head burying against the side of your neck. “No, no. Fucking, shit.”

Amusement flooded your veins when you stroked your fingers through Negan’s wet hair realizing that you weren’t going to be able to finish with Noah crying, “I can get him.”

“No,” Negan groaned out, pulling his hips back and away from you with a wince. Reaching for his athletic pants, he pulled them up and over his hips adjusting himself when they were on. “I’ve got this.”

“Maybe Emma was right. We should stop at two,” you teased watching Negan swiftly crawling back in over the bed to pepper kisses over your lips.

“Nah. I want a fucking baseball team,” Negan slurred against your lips and it made you chuckle against his flesh. “I got this, but when I’m done with the little dude, I’m coming back in here and we’re finishing this up.”

“Sure we are,” you mused knowing that it would probably take a while to get Noah settled again. Negan held his finger out and pointed at you which made you laugh. Even if you didn’t get as much romantic time as you may have wanted with Negan, it was all worth it to you. Because living your life with Negan was better than anything you could have hoped for.

----

Tags: @slutlanna976 @fuckthis-and-fuckthat @jennydehavilland @de-gabyconamor​ @ibelongtonegan @smallsadjellyfish @labyrinthofheartagrams  @msjamesmarch @thebeautysurrounds @hotfornegan​ @redmercysugar @caprithebunny​ @tuttifuckinfruitty @emoryhemsworth​ @a-girl-interupted @akumune​ @stoneyggirl2 @xsarcasticwriterx​  @insertneganhere​ @haleygreen23​ @xhannahbananax03​ @sanctuaryforthelost​ @burningredaffair @killaweiser @dead-of-niight  @ayumi-wolf @hollyismentallyillhelp @promiscuousbarnes​ @tone-stark @lanadelnegan

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Part 18: i'm anything but tame

"Don't tell me it's not fair. Believe me, I've been there. Bittersweet my renegade and I'm anything but tame. Oh, I hate to tell you this way. VIllians aren't born, darlin' we're made."  -Villians Aren't Born (They're Made) by PEGGY

Regent masterlist Mundane Macabre Part 17 AO3

Council of Uncaged Birds group chat [User Pharaoh has changed group name to Summon the Fraid Council] Summon the Fraid Council group chat Pharaoh-Tech: Phantom giw left AP InfiniteStarPrince: but thats good??? Queen_Regent: Where did they go? 

Dame_Asphodel: Phar tracked them far as NJ but the green says they are close to you.  Pharaoh-Tech: did some digging the bomb = not giw InfiniteStarPrince: yeah no gross ecto Queen_Regent: too subtle, not the usual guns blazing style.  InfiniteStarPrince: Oh.  Dame_Asphodel: Why Regent then? Queen_Regent: Who knows Phantom and I outside our night lives? Pharaoh-Tech: will dig more oracle tried 2 hack me Queen_Regent: Did you make contact? Dame_Asphodel: isnt Oracle a bat ally? Pharaoh-Tech: probably back hacked some files theres a file on Regent InfiniteStarPrince: why would BBB not have 1 on her??? Dame_Asphodel: BBB? Queen_Regent: Big Bad Bat. Batman. InfiniteStarPrince: yeah why wouldnt he have 1 on a meta Queen_Regent: he thinks is one Pharaoh-Tech: it has UR REAL NAMEE Queen_Regent:  I told him. InfiniteStarPrince: yeah, R let me know Dame_Asphodel: why? Pharaoh-Tech: u kidding i worried for nothing?!?! Queen_Regent: I’m dating Red Hood Dame_Asphodel: What happened to Jason? InfiniteStarPrince: him too Pharaoh-Tech: wat???? InfiniteStarPrince: R met his family 2 Pharaoh-Tech: hol up !?!?!?! u tellin me RH = JT?? Queen_Regent: Can’t confirm or deny Pharaoh-Tech: imma lay down head hurts Dame_Asphodel: That does make me think R Queen_Regent: that one of RH’s enemies tried to kill two birds with one bomb InfiniteStarPrince: oh snap plot twist Dame_Asphodel: who though?  Queen_Regent: RH is a crime lord Dame_Asphodel: who took on black mask Queen_Regent: I don’t want to do anything without proof

InfiniteStarPrince: black mask? Dame_Asphodel: crime lord got ass kicked by RH literally has a black mask as a face InfiniteStarPrince: so looking for one (1) ugly bastard Queen_Regent: evidence first. can’t execute mortal with zero InfiniteStarPrince: realm laws suck Dame_Asphodel: yet you’re still gonna be king sucks to suck Queen_Regent: For now i’ll ask RH for info he’s mad about the bomb worried I couldve been hurt InfiniteStarPrince: gross Dame_Asphodel: and after? Queen_Regent: well we’ll cross that bridge when we get there Dame_Asphodel:  I think you mean burn it Queen_Regent: whatever comes first

GothicDame and JazzHands chat

GothicDame: does he treat you well? JazzHands: very 

GothicDame: good always need more fertilizer JazzHands: Never change

If she was anyone else, Ellie walking through Jason’s apartment door with a dirty shovel over her shoulder while whistling a jaunty tune would have raised some concerns for the older Nightingale. Jazz decided to settle for fond exasperation over annoyance at her little sister’s literal (albeit forewarned) shovel talk, even though the aforementioned shovel was suspiciously covered in bloody dirt. 

However, any annoyance died and went to the realms when Ellie stood face to chest with Jason, one hand on her hip, shovel still over her shoulder and gave him a once-over. A four-foot-six teen standing off against her six-foot even boyfriend should not be allowed to be so comedic. 

“So, you’re the-“

“Red Hood.” 

“I was gonna say undead weenie, but that works too I guess.” 

It was just so ridiculous that Jazz couldn’t help but laugh at the two. Jason and Ellie spared her confused looks at her laughter, but didn’t comment as Danny entered the apartment as well, only he had an ecto smoothie in one hand and a bucket of popcorn in the other. The future Ghost King didn’t seem all that concerned about the scene he walked into, only pausing long enough to ask-

“Did I miss anything?” 

[I'm so glad to post a new part to the Regent! If you weren't aware, this also now lives on AO3.]

[iamjacksragingboner]

Gross Childhood Best Friend Soap - Alternate Endings

Word count: 1.3K

Warnings: Some angst but like you'll live, you don't end up with Soap though you're rejecting him like that's the whole thing

Part One: You can find part one with the original, happy ending here. Please read that one first so you're up to speed with the context to these other endings.

A/N: As I was writing the end of the Gross Childhood Best Friend Soap fic, I briefly had the thought to make the reader reject Soap, like bitch oh my god have some self worth you don't need to immediately forgive him for being a dick to you.

Anyway, this alternate ending could go one of two ways.

The Immediate Rejection.

“Why don’tcha come back to mine with me, bonnie,” Johnny coos, and for a moment you almost accept his offer.

Almost.

Sure, the boy you’d spent way too many years pining over and never gave you the time of day finally paying attention to you was great, in theory, but it only took a second of reminiscing to think better of it.

This boy was the reason you spent so many nights walking home alone, cursing yourself for falling for his shallow promises spoken by sugar sweet lips again and again.

"Ah, no. Thanks Johnny, but I'm not interested." It comes out dry, but you hope it gets the point across. He had missed his window of opportunity years ago.

Johnny laughs and jostles your shoulder. "Come on, lass. Just a night! Doesn't have tae mean anythin'. I've missed ye."

You hold strong to your word, as attractive as Johnny is, and always has been, you know you're better than that. "Really Johnny, I'm not in the mood."

His hand skirts up your thigh and you groan internally at his inability to take the neon-coloured hint. "I bet I can change that for ye."

Swallowing your pride, you lean into Johnny and cup a hand to whisper into his ear "I have like three STD's at the moment, dude. I don't think you wanna bump uglies with me currently."

It was a silly lie, but you knew it would be more than enough to get the message through his relatively thick skull. You were right, of course, because as you pulled back to take a look at the expression on his face, you had to fight not to burst into laughter.

Johnny looked as though he'd sucked on a lemon but was trying not to let it show. He'd pulled back from you by at least a foot as well, and kept his hands firmly clasped in his lap. "Ah," he said, and cleared his throat. "Well. Good to know."

"Yup."

Silence. You wondered how long it would take Johnny to get up and scout out a different lady, as you were sure he would after this.

As it turns out, it took a grand total of a minute and a half for him to get up, bid his adieus and walk out of the bar, promising he'd call you soon, and wishing you all the best with your... things.

You downed the rest of your drink with a wicked grin stretching across your cheeks and walked merrily home.

2. The Gradual Realisation of Self Worth.

He only comes to you when he needs you.

Only gives you affection when he knows it'll benefit him.

Leaves you cold and alone in bed.

Tells you you're beautiful, says he loves you, but only when you're actively serving him. Patching his wounds. Sending him care packages. Buying him drinks. Always giving, but never receiving.

The bed is so cold.

You curl in on yourself night after night, but you never cry. You are convinced that surely, one day he will return your affection. One day he'll prove you right and show that he has changed, has given up on his shallow promises. You ignore the voice in your head that tells you he hasn't.

You spent so long trying to fix him, put so much time into trying to make him a better person, telling him to eat better, to keep his room clean, teaching him to cook, teaching this man the bare minimum, only to get nothing in return.

He didn't love you, and at this point you weren’t even sure if you liked him. Did you like him, or did you like the comfort of having someone that could hold you, if he wanted to. There was never a guarantee.

You fixed him, but you didn't get to reap the benefits of your own hard work. You fixed him so he could go an fuck over the next person a little less.

You start rejecting his advances, ignoring his texts asking you to come over for a quick fuck. You stop sending him care packages with home made food and letters telling him about how you've been since he was home. You don't answer the door when he knocks. Quitting him cold turkey.

Eventually, he stops texting, stops calling, doesn't throw rocks at your window.

There is silence; a breath of fresh air.

You bump into him at a bar a few months later. You make polite small talk, and he flashes you that grin that pulled you in the first time, but it falls flat and slips from his face. You move away from the hand that caresses your waist.

"Let's get out of here," he bends down to whisper in your ear, "come back to mine, I've missed ye, bonnie." Johnny's hand creeps up your face, a wolf-like grin stretches and snarls across his cheeks.

Your face turns stony, ashen. "Leave me alone, John."

His grin falters at the omission of his nickname, the name you had always called him. In all your years of knowing each other, not once had you called him John.

"Bonnie," Johnny starts, concern flicking over his face. What a joke. He chooses to care now, when he's at risk of losing his quick fuck.

"Don't call me that," your voice is sharp, cutting through the pollution he's breathed on you for so long. "Do not speak to me as if you've ever given more than two shits about me, because I know for a fact the only thing you see me as is a hole to shove your dick in."

You had passed the point of mourning over what could have been, of what you wanted this 'relationship' to be. You were only capable of feeling anger and distain towards the man before you.

"Now, lass, there's no need for ye think that," Johnny rubs your arm in an attempt of comfort that came all too late. "yer more than that to me, I promise."

I promise.

I promise.

I promise.

"Fuck you and your promises, John," you spit, slapping his hand away from you, creating distance between you, because as far as you're concerned, he lost the privilege of touching you long ago. "You're always promising things, but you never mean any of it, do you?"

Johnny stays quiet, his mouth hanging ajar and his hand hovering in midair, as if he's shocked that his actions suddenly have consequences.

"I have tried for so long to continue to see the good in you, to believe that if I just tried a little harder, you'd actually want to pay attention to me, but I look back on that decision to try and I just feel so... stupid! So utterly stupid for not seeing you for what you are, John. Look I want to wish you the best in your future relationships but honestly I think I'd much prefer if you went and choked to death on a bag of dicks."

As much as you thought it would be cathartic to say even a quarter of what you felt Johnny needed to hear, it honestly wasn't. Johnny was silent as you picked up your things and left the bar. He at least had enough of a brain to not call you, but part of you wished he did. The part of you that still hoped the Johnny you grew up with was in there.

You hugged your arms to your chest and kicked the rocks on the pavement as you walked home alone. Again. You went to bed alone. Again. But it felt better.

Johnny wasn't coming back, and you were glad.

[the-bi-writer-blog]

I’m 38 now and here are some (mostly positive) things that have surprised me about aging:

When it comes to appearance and comparing myself to other people, I’ve gotten WAY more chill about it, even though I’ve got smile lines and a few small streaks of grey.

You know how, when you visit your old high school/middle school a few years after graduating, and all you can’t think is “WOW were we ever this young?? I thought we were So Grown Up at that age, but damn they’re just babies!”

So it’s like that. The way you feel about middle schoolers when you’re in high school, or high schoolers when you’re in college - they look like fresh faced babies and you wonder why you didn’t see it before.

So that’s the first thing: age-related appearance.

How I thought it would go: wow old people are all ugly and gross, I hope I never look like that

How it actually is: I love seeing laughter lines on my friend’s faces, because I can see echoes of the jokes we shared. I love their worry lines too, since they’re proof of what we’ve survived together.

And when it comes to my own face?

It’s just my face.

I’m WAY more neutral about it than I used to be. I used to see a checklist of things I wanted to change about myself, every time I caught a glimpse of my face in the mirror.

Now? I’m honestly too tired and too busy to care about something that matters so little in the long run, and I’d rather use my headspace for something else that actually matters.

(And like, ofc I’m still insecure about parts of my appearance, I’m human. but it just feels SO much less pressing now than it did when I was younger.)

Eventually you really do just look in the mirror, shrug, and say, “Eh, could be worse.” And then you carry on spending time with your loved ones and hobbies, in the home you’ve made.

Also back to comparing my appearance to the appearances of those younger than me: I expected to just feel less and less sexy as I got older, and kind of assumed that maybe older people just kind of grin and bear it if they have sex at all (lol)

But the reality is - I don’t think I look “old,” per se. I just think that everyone else looks impossibly young 🤣

Looking at college kids now gives me that same feeling of seeing middle schoolers when you’re in high school. You’re just kind of like, “Why are these humans so underbaked” 😂😂

Idk. That started out one way and turned into a ramble, but I’ve been thinking a lot about appearance lately, as I begin planning the first steps of my own transition (YAY.) And I’ve been reflecting on how many insecurities really have faded over the years.

It will be the work of a lifetime to accept myself fully, of course. But I feel SO much more calm, centered and peaceful than I ever have before, and it’s been a really lovely surprise.

Tl;dr what they don’t tell you about aging is that it’s Fine, Actually, and you will feel SO much less insecure, I promise you. You’ll let others expectations roll off your back, and stop doing things to make other people happy.

And you’ll start the long (and wonderful) lifelong process of learning to make a home in yourself, for yourself ❤️

[colourstreakgryffin]

Whilst I work on my other better Hashira things. Take this other thing I also had buried away on my phone for ages

Best Friend/Platonic! KNY Iguro Obanai

Mainly platonic but a bit of sprinkled conflicted romantic

A very tough one to befriend due to his intense fear of women and withdrawn nature but you did it! And Obanai adores you as a whole for you sticking by his side

Obanai constantly follows you around(unless Mitsuri is nearby). You’re his safe spot and he lives off that gorgeous aura of yours. Your very kind spirit makes him feel welcome

Even if Obanai is slightly older, he clings onto you like a child and whines for your attention. Somebody wants to steal his best friend? God no, not happening ever!

Obanai is quite the silent man but with you, he opens up a lot more than one would expect, both in and out of public. He hasn’t shown you what’s under his mask nor told you his past but only because he’s afraid you’ll run away

Obanai writes letters to you like he does to Mitsuri. His are mainly detailing his missions or about his hangouts with Mitsuri but some are a bit more personal when you wish

He compliments you. Obanai is a complimenter so when he feels like he should, he’ll boost your confidence and your self-image. He will never let you think you’re ugly or gross, he’ll make you feel as if you’re on-top of the world

“You, hideous? That’s a bad joke, Dokusha. You’re beautiful— No, I mean it, your beautiful, your fun, your sweet, your skilled. I don’t know what that asshole was thinking but nothing he said is true. Yeah, your skin is flawless, you have the silkiest hair, the most gorgeous eyes, your smile’s so precious. Forget him, okay, I’m here now and not going anywhere”

“I’m too kind? Isn’t speaking the truth and lightening up your day what best friends do?”

He also sends you random gifts when he sees fit. He has no reason to, he just thought you’d like whatever he found and figured he’d bring it to your attention. Other-times though, he does it cause he believes he must spoil you

Obanai rants about Mitsuri but not too much as he knows that you’re well aware of his deep feelings for her. He just needs to vent out his passion and you always listen. Yet, he apologises everytime for “wasting your time”

You could bust into Serpent Estate and voice act being a demon hunting him down, and Obanai would still be happy to see you. He knows you’re just playing with him and he’s getting better at easing his seriousness down for your outgoing nature

Obanai has a very dark sense of humour and you’re known as the innocent jokester of the Hashira so he has been improving himself and getting a hold of a safer humour so he can impress you. He wants you to think he’s wholesomely-funny so he tries to be that

Talking about those Estate visits, it’s regular than somebody like Obanai would tolerate. He needs his beloved emotional support when he needs her and sends you a gloomy letter asking for your presence

Obanai isn’t a really touchy nor affectionate best friend but he does like giving hugs whenever he wants. It’s mainly after meeting up with Mitsuri, he gives you a soft hug with praise falling out of his lips for the help.

Obanai is extra sweet when you’re openly upset or in your feels, he’ll let you lay your head on his lap and/or hug his side and cry. Anything to make you feel better as he plots the death of the person who hurt his beloved BFF

“Listen to this one, Dokusha. I made it up. What kind of tea is hard to swallow? Reali-tea” Cut to a concerned Obanai hovering around you as you choke on your laughter. He’s trying for you and you’re so proud of him for it

You’re his wingwoman when it comes to Mitsuri. You helped with the idea of gifting Mitsuri those socks and you help build up all that confidence to attend the restaurant get-togethers with Mitsuri. You’re truthfully like the only pillar keeping Obanai from crumbling apart when he‘s spending time with Mitsuri and he is so grateful for you helping

Obanai is the type of best friend to submit to your requests, even if they’re very minor. You want him to tell you more about his feelings, about his issues. He’ll send you letter telling you everything you wanted and maybe more since he trusts you

Trust is a massive piece of your bestie-ship with Iguro Obanai. Even though it took quite some time for him to develop it, his trust in you can’t be broken now, it’s too strong. Like his love for you, he believes you aren’t capable of doing wrong but there’s just some pieces of information he refuses to tell you out of fear

To make it fair, Obanai needs you to confide in him too. Don’t hide what’s going wrong, he’s here for you! Just tell him that you’re upset over your crush rejecting you and he’ll hightail it to your Estate with your favourite treats. He cares intently for your feelings and won’t tolerate anybody that breaks your heart

“Oi, fucktard. Don’t you dare ignore Dokusha! She’s the Ice Hashira, give her the respect she deserves. What will I do? Make you regret every decision you’ve ever made in your worthless life”

Obanai is the overprotective best friend type. In a fight against a demon or at the fleet market with a mean shopkeeper, Obanai will fiercely defend you like his life depends on it

You(and Mitsuri) are the only two people person in the entirety of Japan that are allowed to nickname Obanai! You mainly nickname him “Obi” and he is so use to it that it’s weird to him, when you call him anything else

Iguro? Obanai? Who in the actual f**k is that? He’s Obi, Obi-sash, Obi-Nobi, he’s never heard of that other guy before in his life!

Would Obanai develop any sort of non-platonic feelings for you? I believe at one point; he would consider it and be quite conflicted over it for ages. He knows he does feel some romantic love for you but he knows he just can’t! He doesn’t deserve you, he doesn’t want to ruin his insanely close connection with you and he‘s still in love with Mitsuri! Against a half of his heart, he makes it official that that you must remain in the friend-zone

Obanai likes to hold your hand as much as he can and the soft squeezes reassure him that you’re not going anywhere

Regularly takes you to nice restaurants for lunch catch-ups/hangouts. He believes the best place to wind down and relax is at a table with food and you by his side chatting about random stuff as he remembers each important point and writes them all down in a mental note

Like mentioned, Obanai remembers everything about you. Well… actually, everything he prescribes as the most important. Mention a birthday date once and Obanai will never forget it. Yeah, his devotion for you may not be like the one he has for Mitsuri but he still values you intently and keeping track of the special things to make you happy

Loves going on missions with you. He feels more at peace, less stressed and being able to have you so close by gets rid of the constant worry he has; will you ever come back alive? If you’re right there, Obanai doesn’t have to work with that horrible sting in his chest

Will always catch you if you fall, will always support you if you’re down, will always pick you up when you can’t stand anymore, will always protect you and help you when you’re in pain. Obanai will always be around and doesn’t consider you a afterthought(well… unless he is with Mitsuri), you’re a priority of all things

He loves you so much that it hurts. He didn’t think he could meet another woman that’d win him over but lord behold, the world proves him wrong once again and he values you, a woman, highly enough for him to proudly call you his one and only best friend

“We got a mission together, I hear. Would you like to go to that new restaurant afterwards? There’s a dessert I know you’d love. Yeah? Great, follow me… and hold my hand”

(If it’s not obvious, I’m a Obanai whore that wants to frik him)

[rottenpumpkin13]

Eating Me Alive

desc: Angeal comes to terms with his reflection while Sephiroth and Genesis mock their own.

cw: body dysmorphia, mentions of body hate, blood.

wc: 2036

As far as Angeal was concerned, Genesis would have been a happier man if he bit the bullet and married the mirror once and for all. Or at the very least he could've sunk his teeth into the glass and eaten the damned thing.

He would nearly press his nose up to his own reflection, eyes hungrily searching for blemishes, scars, and freckles to condemn.

“My nose would fit my face more if it were just a little bit more upturned,” Genesis said, stroking the bridge of his nose with his index finger. His eyes never left his mirror image. “Don't you think so?”

Angeal sat on the toilet seat with one leg pulled up, bracing his head.

“Your nose looks fine, Gen.”

It was as good as comforting a brick wall. Genesis huffed, making an unsatisfied sound as he turned his attention to his lips. “You know who has no reason to despise their lips at all?”

Angeal mouthed ‘Sephiroth’ to himself before Genesis could answer his own question.

“Sephiroth.” Genesis traced his bottom lip, pouting it as he examined the left side of his face. “His lips are perfect.”

Genesis' words managed to be prophetic when he didn't mean for them to be—a fact that would've gone straight to his ego had Angeal made him aware of it.

“Shall I take that as a compliment?” He asked.

Sephiroth appeared in the bathroom door the very same second. His hair was pulled up in a knot, displaying—to Genesis' chagrin—his stunning jawline. Silver wisps of hair framed his face, complimenting his curious smile.

Genesis gifted him a single roll of his eyes before going back to preening himself.

Sephiroth poked his head out, catching a glimpse of himself before gradually letting his body settle in front of the mirror.

He didn't wear a shirt. Sephiroth never did when they were casually hanging out together, just as he never passed up the opportunity to let his skin breathe.

Sephiroth reached up and lightly placed a finger on his lip, his eyebrows flashing as he silently pondered them. Beside him, the rage practically rose from his pores like steam.

“You know why my lips are, in your words, perfect? It's because I never abuse them with repetitive poetry.”

Sephiroth's cathartic laughter and Genesis' subsequent outburst filled the room, the latter grabbing a stray towel to attack the other with. Angeal didn't bother interjecting. For once, their petty quarrel felt like a much-needed relief from the gross displays of vanity.

They disappeared into Angeal's bedroom, where Sephiroth made use of a pillow as a weapon. Angeal was left alone. The bathroom tile was frigid on the sole of his foot, where he pressed it deeper, analyzing the graying grout as a willful distraction.

And yet, his own reflection still caught his eye. He raised his head, catching the annoyed glimmer in his own eyes in the mirror. Eyes were a funny feature to hate. Everyone's own was unique.

If you asked Genesis, he would rave about how the vivid blues in his brought out the red in his hair. Sephiroth told a different story. He despised his own. The slitted pupils were ‘unnatural and frightening’.

Angeal preferred not to think about his own. Why should he? Eyesight was a privilege, and everyone blessed with it should acknowledge their luck that they even had eyes.

His eyebrows dipped, furrowing and creating ugly lines around his face. What did it matter that his eye color didn't fit his face? That his pupils always seemed to pop in a way that made them look like contact lenses?

It was trivial anyway. He was a SOLDIER, not an actor or a model or anything that required physical beauty to be a significant trait.

He was strong, muscular, and good with a sword. That was enough.

Nevertheless, he'd be lying if he claimed to have never let some vain thoughts penetrate his focused mind. Like why, for example, did he technically get the short end of the stick?

Sephiroth and Genesis were attractive, there was no denying it. Sephiroth's silver locks glowed, and always lay perfectly no matter what he did to it. Genesis had been blessed with a russet hue to hair that framed his face perfectly. Angeal's own dull, black hair didn't do anything for him.

Sephiroth was naturally built like a glorious demigod in one of Genesis' epics. His physique was not ruled by how much he worked out or what he ate. His body was—as much as Angeal hated the envy dripping from his choice of words—perfect.

And then there was Genesis, who had always had a metabolism faster than his quickly formed thoughts. He had always been picked on for being a skinny child, but his bullies’ laughter turned sour when Genesis developed into a fit young man with a body straight out of a magazine.

Sephiroth was the kind of attractive that authors wrote about in fantasy novels. He was pleasing to look at and carried himself in a way that let everyone know he did not know it. Angeal himself knew firsthand that Sephiroth was well aware, he just didn't care for it.

“Beauty matters little to me,” he'd say. It was easy for him to say that when he looked like that.

And then there was Angeal.

Genesis was the type of attractive that usually landed him in ad campaigns and brand deals. He stood out on a catwalk and was the picture-perfect poster boy of SOLDIER.

“The other one.”

Angeal Hewley.

He had been a chubby child, an ironic fact about his childhood when one considered that it was filled with nothing but starvation and poverty. It was the icing on top of the birthday cake he never got to eat.

He put on weight easily, and had to work twice as hard to burn it off and turn it into muscle when the time came to become a “perfect SOLDIER.”

But it never stuck. Angeal's body was different from Sephiroth's and Genesis'. His waist wasn't small, his proportions were clumsy, and the baby fat on his face was stubborn.

Heidegger praised him for his build. Of course, he would praise anyone who wasn't Sephiroth.

“We need boys with meat on their bones! Enough of these fairy pretty boys!”

He had awkwardly laughed it off at the time, of course. But when his emotions got the best of him, it only served as another coin for the bank where he kept his worst opinions of himself.

There were plenty of those filling each safe with the brunt of his riches: his insecurities and subsequent guilt. He had no business hating his body when his belly was full and his limbs were fully functioning.

But there were more of them. His nose was too wide, his jaw was too wide and heavy. His hairline was awkward. He had protruding ears. Should he keep going? He wasn't Sephiroth, nor was he Genesis. He was just Angeal. The other one.

He didn't have Sephiroth's prowess with the sword, he didn't have Genesis' skill with materia. All he had was an unusable sword that his pride and persisting honor kept glued to his back instead of callusing his hands.

He wasn't the quiet and intelligent one. He wasn't the poetic and charismatic one. Pages about his beauty and strength could not be written, not when he was just Angeal, the responsible one.

The one who could cook well, the one who kept everyone in line, the dad of every group he was in, the one who faded in every photoshoot they did together, the humble one, the nice one, the ugly one, the interesting one, the other one, the one any storyline would gladly kill off first—

“You did that on purpose!” Genesis' echoing voice filled the bathroom as he slammed the door against the wall.

Sephiroth trailed back in after him, laughing with the pillow hung over his shoulder.

“You should have ducked,” Sephiroth remarked.

“You should have never been born to begin with,” Genesis shot back.

Angeal took notice of the feathers flecked in his russet hair as the older man returned to his rightful place: in front of the mirror. Sephiroth, still holding the pillow, stood beside him, analyzing his own appearance.

Angeal's reflection appeared in a small space, sandwiched between his friends and darkened by their shadows.

As Genesis plucked the feathers from his hair, Sephiroth began untying his own. He let the silver cascade over his shoulder before fluffing it out.

Genesis brushed the white fluff from between his strands, then went right back to critical digging for flaws.

“Do you think I should grow my hair out a bit more?” He asked Sephiroth.

“Long hair is tedious and difficult to maintain,” Sephiroth replied. “You should be thankful that yours doesn't grow as quickly as mine.”

Genesis shrugged. “If I had your waist, I sure would be thankful.”

Sephiroth curiously stood up straighter, placing both thumbs at his rib cage before moving them downward to measure his waist.

“You envy my…waist?” Sephiroth asked, genuinely perplexed.

“Duh,” Genesis rolled his eyes, standing up straight. “Who doesn't? While we're at it, I wouldn't mind having your arms.”

Sephiroth hummed. “Your shoulders are wider than mine. They suit you.”

“No, no I like yours better.” He went right back to stroking his nose pensively. “Your nose is perfect too, you asshole.”

Sephiroth laughed. “It's quite long. I would give you my nose if you would take my dark circles.”

“I accept!” Genesis laughed. “There's nothing makeup couldn't fix. While we're at it, how much do you want for your lips?”

“I'd trade my lips for your pupils.”

“Hmm. I’m not sure. I might give you my eyes if you give me your height.”

“That sounds fair.” Sephiroth leaned in towards the mirror, fogging the glass with his breath. “Honestly, I wouldn't mind trading bodies with you for a day.”

“Oh?” Genesis smiled deviously. “That sounds promising.”

“Not like that,” Sephiroth rolled his eyes with a sigh. “You should spend a day in my body. You'll be begging to switch back after a few hours.”

Angeal unfurled himself from his seat, placing both feet on the cold tile.

“Nonsense,” Genesis brushed it off with a wave of his hands, “I'd kill to be Sephiroth for a day.”

“You loathe your appearance to that degree?” Sephiroth wondered.

Angeal's vision burned red.

“I don't loathe it,” Genesis corrected him. “I simply think it could use some improvement. Don't you think that about yourself?”

Sephiroth considered, looking back at his reflection. “Sometimes. Not all the—”

“AAAAAAAGGGGHHHH!”

A guttural scream made both men jump back, startled.

Angeal pushed past them and dove towards the mirror hands-first. He kept screaming even as he smashed his fists into the glass over and over and over again. He kept screaming even as the blood gushed from his flesh, splattering over the white tile.

The mirror cracked more and more, each hit sending shatters of glass flying all over. Hot tears pricked the corners of his eyes. His screams were sandpaper against his throat. He could no longer feel his hands, nor the glass wedged inches deep beneath his skin.

He didn't stop until the mirror was nothing more than a few shards of glass hanging feebly against the wood, and his reflection was gone.

The sink was filled with shards of blood-splattered glass and red. So much red. The vivid crimson against the silver pieces mocked him.

Trying to restabilize his sodden breaths was tricky when choked cries replaced the screams. His nose was running freely with the tears against his cheeks.

Sephiroth and Genesis were huddled together by the bathroom door. Both men were wide-eyed, unconsciously holding onto each other as they watched him, the dripping rivulets of blood painting the white tile, and his mauled fists.

The bathroom was quiet now. Angeal's sniffles and heavy breathing were the only sounds. He forced himself to look back, to look at them.

They were shocked, they were scared.

And he was still Angeal. Blood-soaked, scarred, and ignorant Angeal.

Against his will, Angeal noticed how even when they were scared, they were still perfect.

[lilnavelorange]

Your Honor…I Rest My Case

Warning: implied nudity, mentions of bondage and toys, kinda NSFW, body dysmorphia, body insecurity, crying

“How does that feel?” They asked with a smirk.

I gently pulled on my wrist and ankle restraints.

“Feels good.” I softly smiled at them. They leaned in and pecked my lips, giggling afterwards.

“I’m so excited! This is gonna be great!” They hopped off the bed, gathering the toys they had off to the side.

It is not that I wasn’t excited too, it is just that all I could think about was the way I looked. How boring my skin looked. How my stomach bulged. How my toes looked rough. My insecurities were eating me alive as I grew to the verge of tears, but I desperately didn’t want to ruin the moment. They were so excited and I didn’t want to ruin anything, but they knew me to well.

They gently crawled back on the bed with toys hooked between your fingers. Their smile gleamed bright and I tried to keep myself together.

“Okay, so I thinking we could start with some gentle caressing and then…” They looked up at me and their smile faded.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” They climbed closer to my face.

“You look sad.” They cupped my face and the tears started pouring out. They immediately unbuckled the restraints and pulled me into their lap, holding me in their arms and rubbing my back. I rested my head on the shoulder and tried to catch my breath.

“Darling, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want. We can snuggle up and watch a movie if that feels better.” They stroked their fingers through my hair and kissed my forehead.

“It’s not that.” I said through my tears, trying to wipe them away.

“Did I do something? I promise I won’t do it again.” They hugged me tighter.

“No, not at all. You are amazing.” I kissed their cheek.

“I just feel…ugly.” I whimpered.

“Ugly?” They raised my chin gently so they could look at me.

“You’re far from ugly. Why do you feel that way?” They asked with concern washed over their face.

“Ugh, look at me. My boring skin. My bulged stomach. My gross toes. I’m surprised you even want to touch me.” I began to cry again and hid my face in their shoulder. They allowed me to stay there without disturbing me. They continued to rub my back and stroke my head as I eventually calmed down from the severe outburst.

“Everyone feels this way sometimes. I’m not going to tell you how to feel, but can I at least tell you why I disagree?” They leaned their forehead against mine and I nodded. They held me to cradle me in the lap. They started stroking my arms and kissed my shoulders.

“Your skin is soft and I love how to feel between my lips and fingers.” They said as they drew hearts on my arms and softly smiled from the sensation. They smiled back and their hands started to rub my stomach. I tried desperately to hide the wobbly smile on my face, but I could see the smirk forming on theirs.

“I also love this adorable tummy of yours. It’s so cute!” They poked my stomach and a squeak escaped from me. I blushed bright pink and covered my mouth with my hand immediately.

“What was that?” They raised their eyebrows at me and poked my stomach a few more times. A couple of giggles escaped me and they gasped in fake awe as they gently laid me down on my back.

“Are you telling me that your tummy is not only adorable but also ticklish?!” They exclaimed before digging their fingers into my stomach and giggles poured out of me. I squirmed under their hands with squeals slipping between the giggles. They started blowing raspberries all over my stomach and I couldn’t hold still no matter how much I tried.

“Okay! Fine! I’m ticklish!” I shouted and they eventually paused. I caught my breath and flinched as I felt their fingers wrap around each ankle.

“I wonder if these adorable toes are ticklish too.” They spidered under and between each toe as I threw my head back laughing.

“It looks like they are.” They chuckled and continued to play with my toes as I got lost in laughter. I pulled my feet away but they immediately grabbed my ankles and pulled me closer to them as they hovered over my face.

“I wonder where else you’re ticklish.” They smirked as my eyes widen right before I felt their hands spidering all over my body. From under my knees to my thighs to squeezing my hips and sides to poking between my ribs and sneaking their hands into my armpits, I turned into a giggly puddle under their hands. Without a doubt, I didn’t want them to stop. They paused as I caught my breath and pulled me into a hug.

“Your honor…” They booped my nose.

“I rest my case.” They kissed my blushing cheeks and I pulled them into an eager kiss on the lips.

“You’re the best.” I said as I laid both of us down.

“Maybe after you I am.” They winked and we kissed again.

I placed my arms back above my head and spread my legs apart.

“Where were we?” I smiled and they smiled back, buckling me back into the restraints.

[artzychic27]

Betrothed is my fave TT episode can you do some incorrect quotes with the DC kids Marcthanial? I’m interested to see how that unfolds.

Nathaniel: You're getting married?!

Marc: Indeed, and I cannot wait to return to Tamaran. I have been having a bit of the sick-home feeling lately, and am eager to introduce my home planet to you, my friends. First you must ingest some fresh-squeezed glorg, or perhaps sput-flinks! And wait until you see the portkins. They are as big as a flarnop!

Lacey: Um, am I the only one afraid of the big portkins?

Nathaniel: You're getting married?!

Aurore: Yeah, anyone we know?

Marc: I have never met him. My betrothed has been chosen for me by the Grand Ruler of Tamaran.

*Marc looks up to the spaceship´s window and sees Nathaniel on it*

Nathaniel: You're getting MARRIED? And to SOMEONE YOU'VE NEVER MET? *He notices that he's out of the ship in Outer space and quickly swims back into the ship to regain oxygen*

-

Zoé: *Watching Marc, now hunched over on the table and stuffing his face* I'm guessing you picked up your table manners on Earth?

-

Marc: I have missed you, Galfore.

Galfore: And I have missed you ... Prince Marc.

Villain/Hero Class: PRINCE?!?!?!!

Marc: *sheepishly* Oh, yes, I am...second in line for the throne. Perhaps I forgot to mention?

-

Galfore: Nooba gulshtik Myzan'r sol! *He pounds a fist against his chest*

Marc: Hesbad rutha Galfore kank!

*Close-up of the giant; he snarls and pulls back from him, raising both meaty arms and bringing them down. He screams*

Zoé: Stop him!

*Zoé whips out a handful of discs, Ismael primes his laser eyes, Reshma's pincers snap menacingly, and Denise whips out the lasso of truth. Before anyone can move, though, Marc's scream gives way to laughter. Galfore has seized Marc and is chuckling as he tickles him*

Cosette: Um, unless they tickle people to death here, I think you can chill.

-

Marc: Mavi?

Mavi: Surprised to see me, little brother?

Marc: *Glares* I am...surprised to see you out of prison!

Mavi: Oh, that. Well, after you had me thrown in jail, I got bored. So I broke out and took over Tamaran for kicks. But enough about me. I'm sure you're eager to see who you'll be spending the rest of your life with.

*A young man, bare-chested, very well built stands with a mane of hair blowing in the wind*

Marc: *Hearts in his eyes; drooling*

Nathaniel: *Crying in Denise's arms*

*The young man steps to the side to make way for something that drops in from above. It is very large, contained in a metal bowl that floats just above the floor, and made entirely of writhing green appendages that look something like slimy elephant trunks. It expels huge globs of slime that splatter against the floor. The creature lays an arm/tentacle on Marc, whose jaw drops as he gags*

Mavi: Marc, meet your groom...Glgrdsklechhh!

Cosette: Uh... Congratulations?

-

Kim: I can't tell what's a bed, what's a chair, and what's alive! How am I supposed to take my beauty nap?

Nathaniel: How can you even think about sleep?! We can't let Marc go through with this!

Nino: Come on, man. You sure you're not just, you know...jealous?

Nathaniel: Of that ugly, smelly whatever-it-is? You saw his face, Nino. He doesn't even like him!

-

Mavi: Can any among us offer reason why these two lovebirds should not be together...forever?... Didn't think so. Then...do you, Glgrdsklechhh, take Marc to be your husband, as decreed by the Grand Ruler of Tamaran?

*He makes some gross-ass sound. Mavi takes it as a yes*

Mavi: And do you, Marc, take Glgrdsklechhh to be your husband?

Marc: *Gags* I...I...

Mavi: Yes, brother dear?

Nathaniel: MARC!

*Suddenly, the doors burst open, revealing the Hero and Villain classes on the other side with their powers and weapons at the ready. Now the spectators turn to watch, murmuring amongst themselves at the disturbance, and guards move up to protect Mavi and the couple*

Mavi: Silence! SILENCE! Do you wish to do what is right and take this thing to be your husband?!

Marc: I do ...not!

-

*Marc takes a blast in the solar plexus that propels him most of the way to the far door*

Marc: I thought we agreed you would do what is best for Tamaran, little brother! You will marry the Schlurch!

-

Kim: Let's hurry! I couldn't figure out how to use the bathrooms here!

Max: We are not having any accidents in the Ship! You get me?

Nathaniel: *To Marc* ... I'm glad you'll be staying with us for a long time and...not getting married.

Marc: Yes. The next time, I shall choose my own husband. Who is to know? Perhaps there is a groom for me on Earth.

[ambroziadelphine]

My Personal Addiction (Geto Suguru x Reader) Chapter 3

Masterlist

The dining hall held laughter, muffled talking inside before Geto slid the door open to reveal the few people I did know from the anime in this time. Haibara, Nanami, Gojo, and Shoko all sat there with two empty seats beside each other. Geto walked in first, his tall frame concealing my figure.

"Hey, where's the girl you were carrying before?" Shoko asked as she looked at Geto, everyone's attention turning to him.

"What girl?" Haibara asked, his tone sounded excited, god that guy was a true golden retriever boy. Gotta make sure the puppy doesn't die in 2 years I guess. I hesitantly stepped out from behind Geto, blushing at so many eyes on me and the news Geto had indeed carried me in as I gave a small wave and looked down.

"I think she's talking about me." I said meekly, Geto chuckling.

"This is Evee, she'll be staying at Jujutsu high for the time being." He said making Nanami and Shoko look at me in confusion.

"A non-curse user staying here? Do the higher ups know she's here?" Nanami asked as I scratched the back of my head.

"They know I'm here.. I get it's weird I'm here, but its not every day you fall from the sky and suddenly are in a complete different place then before." I said, Geto leading me to sit down, taking his seat beside me.

"She also saved Geto's life on our mission." Gojo casually says, the group looking at me in confusion and surprise making me blush. Why did people keep mentioning that? I didn't do anything special besides throw a damn rock.

"I just threw a rock at the curse." I said quietly, shrugging a bit before Geto chuckled.

"Then managed to run away as it chased her, and then ran straight back through it's legs to get behind it when I got back up." He said, my face flushing darker as Shoko looked surprised.

"Didn't you say the curse you guys fought was like 80 feet tall, Satoru?" Shoko asked, looking over at the white haired madman in training.

"Yep. Don't know how she ran that fast but she did." He said, before Nanami raised an eyebrow.

"Why didn't you help him?" He asked, Gojo put his hands behind his head and sighed.

"Second curse came out of nowhere so I was dealing with that. I didn't even notice her until she was already yelling at it." He said, before turning to me with a cheeky grin. "What was it you called it?" He asked making me shrink back in my seat, my head down as my face burned.

"I think I called it an ugly lizard." I mumbled, he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"I think I remember hearing a few more words then that. Do you remember, Suguru?" Gojo asked him, though Geto rolled his eyes and sighed, glancing at me with a slight chuckle.

"If I remember correctly, you called it a 'fat ugly lizard bitch'." He said, Haibara spitting out the water he had taken a sip of, Shoko putting a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. I assume she was more so picturing me, a 5'1 girl, yelling at an 80 foot curse and insulting it.

"It was big, and it was ugly, okay?" I asked, looking up at Geto with a huff. "Not my fault it looked like a chubby baby fused with fucking Godzilla." I muttered, trying to defend myself as most laughed, Nanami sweatdropping as he probably thought I was an idiot like Gojo.

"Well, you aren't wrong there. It really was gross." Gojo said, making a face before turning to Nanami who had gotten up. "Need any help?" He asked, Nanami scoffing as he rolled his eyes.

"You would be anything but help in the kitchen, Satoru." He said, walking into the adjacent room.

"Ooo, burn Yoyo. You just got rejected by a moody Ken doll." I teased, poor Haibara had just taken another sip of water too and ended up spitting it out too, laughing hysterically as he coughed. "Sorry." I said, he shook his head as he coughed.

"No, your funny, I like it." He said as he composed himself. "I never thought I'd hear someone call Kento a Ken doll." He said, Gojo laughing at that too.

"He does kind of look like it." He said, before he walked back in looking irritated, carrying a large pot and setting it on the middle of the table.

"I'm not a doll." He said, sitting down as everyone got their food, Geto handing me mind which I thanked him for. "Though I would like to know, did you call Satoru.. Yoyo?" He asked, Shoko pausing before she chuckled.

"You did." She laughed while I shrugged with a smile.

"Hey, there's a lot of other things along those lines I could call him. You didn't even hear the first few nicknames I suggested." I said, seeing her and Haibara look at me with interest.

"Tell us." They said as Gojo grumbled, shoving some food into his mouth.

"I'm feeling very attacked right now." He said making me look at him with a fake pout.

"Aww, is Frosty mad he's not the only mouthy one now?" I asked, he looked at me offended as Shoko laughed.

"Frosty? Like the snowman?" She asked making me chuckle.

"I was thinking more like Jack Frost cause of the hair and blue eyes, but hey, he looks paler then Casper so I think it'd still fit." I said, he sulked at his corner of the table beside Haibara. "Hey, I could've called you JoJo from JoJo's Bizarre adventure." I said, internally complaining I couldn't say JoJo Siwa instead. 

"I don't like you." He said, looking at me as he made a face but I only smiled brightly.

"The feeling's mutual." I said, scrunching my nose at him as he gapped at me

"I will have you know, everyone likes me!" He said, the room going so silent even crickets could be heard causing him to deflate. "Thanks a lot guys." He muttered before Haibara patted his back.

"I like you Satoru!" He said, giving a closed eye smile as Gojo acted like he was about to cry.

"Finally! Someone appreciates me!" He said, sticking his tongue out at me but I just chuckled.

"I'm still calling you Yoyo." I said making him squint at me before huffing.

"At least I'm not named after a Pokémon." He shot back but I rolled my eyes.

"Shut up, your mother buys you Mega Blok's instead of Lego." I said, his face falling as Nanami actually chuckled at that, Geto turning away as he contained his laughter.

"I'll have you know I'm rich!" He said, though I merely chuckled.

"Rich or wealthy?" I asked, his face turning to confusion.

"What's the difference?" He asked making me facepalm.

"I think that gave me the answer." I mumbled. "Rich is usually known as new money, the people who have become successful and gained money through working hard, or its people that don't fully understand proper wealth. Wealthy people, also known as old money, are normally from generations of wealth, not just a single generation." I said, his face turning to confusion.

"Guess that means I'm wealthy then?" He mused making me grin.

"Then it's not your money." I said, he abruptly turned to me with a slight sneer, though he just looked goofy with those glasses. Kinda reminds me of DJ Music Man from Security Breach.

"What the hell do you mean?!" He asked but I just chuckled.

"It's not yours because it's your parents money. You're just lucky they let you use that wealth." I said, taking a bite of my food. "I knew a lot of people whose parents could afford to give their kids the world and didn't give them a dime for one reason or another. Be happy your one of the lucky kids in that case." I said, he was quiet after that, clearly any comebacks had died on his tongue when I called him lucky as he looked down at his food in thought. The dinner returned to normal conversation after that, mostly about Haibara asking me questions with Shoko or Geto occasionally asking something.

"Do you live in igloos in Canada?!" Haibara asked after they found out I was Canadian. I paused mid bite and looked at him with furrowed brows, looking at him like he had two heads because that was genuinely the first time I had ever been asked that.

"And where would we live in the summer?" I asked him, his face turning to confusion.

"Canada has summer?" He asked, the table going quiet as everyone stared at Haibara in disbelief, Nanami facepalming as he shook his head. I looked at him, honestly just speechless at what he's just asked.

"I think I just found my 13th reason." I said, putting my hand on my forehead as I stared at the table. 

"13th reason for what?" Geto asked, I opened my mouth then closed it immediately.

"A very dark joke." I said, figuring it would be the simplest and quickest explanation. 

"How dark?" Shoko asked, I looked at her hesitantly.

"I feel it would be a little too dark for you guys. Where I'm from, kids are a lot more humorous about very dark topics.. mostly about mental health." I said, Haibara looked at me for a moment before tilting his head.

"I don't get it." He said making me laugh.

"Don't worry about it. I don't expect millennials to understand Gen z humor." I said, Nanami looking at me with narrow eyes at that.

"Isn't Gen z the next generation?" He asked making me realize my slip up as I bite my lip.

"Yep." I said, looking down at my food as he furrowed his brows, same with Shoko.

"Aren't they all still kids though?" She asked making Geto sigh.

"When she fell from the sky she didn't just fall from nowhere. According to her, she's from the year 2024." He said, everyone besides Gojo at the table had their jaw dropped or wide eyes, looking at me like I was an alien as I shrunk back in my chair.

"When's your birthday!?" Haibara asked loudly, leaning over the table as he looked at me eagerly. I chuckled nervously, leaning away from him before Nanami pulled him back by his collar.

"Uh, May 14th... 2005." I said, looking away as my cheeks burned at the knowledge I was somehow the oldest and youngest one here at the same time, it felt embarrassing to have everyone staring at me like this not knowing what they were thinking. Though, I don't think I'd want to know based on how disturbed Nanami looked at that information.

"You were born, this year?" He asked and I nodded, he clearly didn't believe me making me sigh, pulling out my Driver's license and handing it to him along with the health card I had in there.

"Two pieces of ID, different issue dates with the same birthday." I told him, Shoko and Haibara moving to look at them over his shoulder, their faced turning to disbelief as they stared at the tiny numbers.

"Holy shit, you really are from the future!" Haibara said, grinning widely as he stared at me, Nanami handing me back the two cards as I put them away in my phone case.

"Yea, its pretty weird to think I'm not even technically born yet." I said, before shrugging. "I don't even know if this is my world anymore to be honest. Who even knows if my parents exist here." I said, sighing as Geto laid a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm sure they'll be here somewhere." He said making me huff.

"Even if they are, I'd rather not be born into that family again." I said, looking down as everyone shared a slightly concerned look before turning back to me.

"Why wouldn't you wanna be born? That would mean you wouldn't exist!" Haibara said, clearly not understanding I meant specifically my parents as the reason for me saying that.

"Well, uh, being a child of divorce isn't exactly, a happy life.." I said, looking down as he seemed to get it a little better now.

"Ohh.. Oh." He said, realizing he must have sounded a bit like an ass. "I'm sorry.." He said, but I just waved him off.

"It's fine. I came to terms with my family situation a long time ago." I said, looking down at my hands. "Honestly, I'm glad I'm here.. even if I don't know what happened, this has already been a better experience then I can say I've had in a long time. Even if I did almost get killed twice." I said, looking back up at everyone to see some sad smiles and some pity, but Geto just gave me a kind smile, putting a hand on my back as he closed his eyes.

"Well, then I hope the higher ups have you stay. I personally would like to see where this all leads." He mused, a slight flush coming to my cheeks at his words. "I mean, there must be a reason you were brought here." He said, some of the others nodding.

"This does seem to be more then just chance. A non-curse user brought to the past, possibly a different version of the same world. The higher ups would be fools to simply ignore this like nothing." Nanami said, a thoughtful expression on his face with a hand on his chin. We had all basically finished eating so now it was seeming to be time for questions, not that I really minded.

"She also can't speak Japanese." Gojo said, everyone looking at him and I in confusion as I shrugged.

"Tis true. I'm hearing English from me and you guys. I literally suck at learning languages. I literally used google translate for all my French classes in school." I said, earning more confused looks.

"Google translate? I didn't know google had something like that." Shoko said making me pause.

"Hang on a minute. Let me check my phone for when it came out, cause I might have mentioned that a bit early." I said sheepishly, pulling out my phone and turning it on when Geto leaned in to look as I tapped the screen.

"That's your phone?" He asked, staring at the screen in surprise as Gojo came over to look.

"Hey, what kind of phone is that?" He asked and I chuckled, smirking at him.

"A better one then yours." I said making him roll his eyes.

"Ha ha, you're from the future, of course it'd be better. Unless technology has gone backwards." He said and I chuckled, shaking my head.

"If you count self driving cars going backwards, then I guess you could be right." I said as Haibara grinned.

"That sounds so cool! Can they actually drive on their own?" He asked and I shrugged.

"Kinda. It's more so for on highways and when you're going one direction for a long time. You still need to be awake and the car will actually beep if you need to put your hands back on the wheel for something." I said, amused by the amazement on his face.

"Wow, the future sounds awesome!" He said making me chuckle and sigh.

"Sometimes it is." I said, Shoko tilting her head at me.

"'Sometimes'? What does that mean?" She asked making me pause, my smile fading a bit.

"Well, here you all have curses that can be exorcised, where I come from we don't have that. I mean, I can see and hear them now, but I've never once seen one of them before today, ever. The future isn't all good, in fact, after 2016 I'd say it goes pretty downhill from there; though mainly for America. 2020 was a year that fucked over the whole world though, so I'm glad I'm not there anymore." I said, Gojo letting out a scoff as he leaned back in his chair.

"I'm sure it's not that bad." He said, my face turning to him as I glared at him.

"2020, the year when a virus from China makes its first move to infect a human, thus causing a worldwide pandemic for almost 3 years. The whole planet was on lockdown, kids were doing school from home online, businesses were closing due to no one leaving their houses, suicide rates went up due to the isolation the pandemic caused, millions of people died because of that virus; it was literal hell on earth." I said, seeing their faces drop at that. "I was 14 when it started. I was 17 when it finally stopped. You didn't see the pandemic, so please don't dismiss it like that when you didn't live through it like I did." I said, the table went quiet and I cursed myself for making this so depressing.

"Sorry, I just get kinda snippy about it.." I said, looking down as I hung my head in shame, missing the scolding glares everyone was giving Gojo.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you so much." He muttered, looking down as I sighed, quiet for a moment as I picked at my fingers.

"It's alright. I shouldn't have snapped like that." I said, my voice quiet as I spoke when Shoko came over and put a hand on my shoulder.

"Don't worry, we understand. Everyone has their sensitive topics." She said making me give a small sigh of relief.

"Thank you." I said, she gave a small smile and nodded.

"No problem."