#i was a child back then. technically my friends dad bought it for me

[vampire-connoisseur]

in case anyone was wondering, one red heart super saver has about five megapuffs and a medium hat in it

[alrightieaphroditie]

sticky situations | j.m 

*:·ﾟ✧ back to masterlist

pairing *:·ﾟdbf!joel miller x female!reader wc *:·ﾟ5k  warnings *:·ﾟ18+! minors please do not interact!! pretty much porn w/ minimal plot, dads best friend, age gap (reader is in early 20s, joel is like late 30s/early 40s) kissing, fun with popsicles (so like ice play, in a way), brief mention of choking, titty play, pet names (lots of ‘baby’ and ‘honey’) dirty talk, praise, slight humiliation if you squint, smidge of mutual masturbation, bossy!joel, unprotected p in v (please wrap it before you tap it), slight breeding kink, probably poorly written smut… i think that’s it :))   an *:·ﾟi lowkey told myself i’d never write a dad’s best friend joel miller story and yet here i am. this literally came to me in a fever dream, and i promise i am still working on my screwed series, but i could not stop writing this. mostly unedited (my bad) but i feel hella proud with this one, so i really hope you all enjoy!! stay safe if your celebrating the fourth today! 

synopsis *:·ﾟbeing in a secret relationship with your dad's best friend isn't for the weak. while getting some popsicles from the garage, said boyfriend - joel miller - corners you during the firework show after you spent the day teasing him.

the scorching texas sun was high in the sky, and the sounds of children squealing carried loudly over the radio playing. the miller’s (moreso tommy, even though he didn’t technically live there) had been kind enough to open their pool to the neighborhood for the fourth of july holiday, and on a day like today, you weren’t surprised that their backyard was crammed full of people.

given that your father was joel miller’s best friend, you had already had plans to come utilize his pool, but now you could barely float like you planned with how many children were swimming in it. sarah’s soccer team had come over after practice as well, and it was to the point where even walking in the backyard was like walking through a landmine; you were consciously trying not to bump into anyone or step on a foot (or a child.) 

your father had planted himself at the grill with the host himself, the two of them talking about god knows what. every now and then you’d catch joel’s eyes, and he’d take in the bikini top you wore, the sage green color complementing your skin.

you had told your father that you had bought it at the mall last weekend, but the truth was that joel had bought it for you, along with the skimpiest bottoms he could find. those you were wearing too, but you had them concealed by a pair of jean shorts. with the way he was eyeing right now, and the way you were subsequently eyeing him back, you were surprised that no one around you had picked up on the fact that you two were together. 

it had been a few months, pretty much ever since you came home to your dad’s from school for the summer. he had moved into this neighborhood after your parents divorce, and when he told you back in january that he had the most amazing neighbor, you were happy for him. flash forward to your visit during spring break and it was joel miller this and joel miller that in your house. not that you really minded, you thought the contractor next door was very handsome, even if he was almost twenty years older than you. 

your dad had introduced the two of you during your spring break, with joel being an absolute gentleman, and for a little bit that was all you had. but then your dad was pulled away for work, and even though you were fully an adult, he wanted someone to be there for you if needed. he gave you joel’s phone number, along with the promise that joel would do anything to help you, and that started the snowball effect to the beginning of your relationship. 

you hardly used the number while you were home, but for some reason you found yourself staring at it one night alone when you were back in your apartment. joel hadn’t given you any hint, any indicator that he even liked you as a person. you mean, sure, he was kind and always polite to you when your dad had him over for dinners. but you noticed he always purposefully put some type of distance between you, and it just didn’t sit right with you. 

so, slightly drunk and alone, you sent him the first text message. a simple, hey, it’s y/n from next door, and then, because you were in a mood and wanted attention: sorry to bother you so late, but my dad told me to text you if i ever needed anything. immediately after you wished you could’ve deleted it, and a few minutes had passed before you decided to put your phone down for the rest of the night. just as you placed it on the table next to your bed, you felt it buzz. think he meant that for when you’re next door, but what can i do for ya? 

and that was that. you and joel texted throughout the night, and then all morning, and all afternoon, and all the next night. this continued for weeks, until you graduated to having nightly phone calls, and then facetime calls (you had to have joel ask sarah how to use facetime to begin with, but you thought that was cute) and for the rest of the semester, joel became your closest friend, and your biggest crush. and when you came home for the summer, you officially started dating joel miller. well… it was official between the two of you. 

you never imagined falling for your dad’s best friend, and yet, here you were, in his backyard, wearing the bathing suit he had bought you, wishing you could at least hold his hand in front of everyone. 

you saw his brown eyes dart in your direction as you moved near the grill, your ears picking up their conversation about the most recent football game. you watched as his pinky finger on the hand by his side extended ever so slightly, and as you walked passed, you brushed your pinky against his. the warmth the feeling gave you made you grin, and you slipped through his open back door, looking for sarah to help you and tommy set up the fireworks display in the street. 

the rest of the evening went by in a blur - there were hotdogs and burgers eaten, smores were made with the small bonfire tommy had started, the music volume continued to increase with every passing hour. by the time the sky was pitch black with only a smattering of stars, everyone was full, content, and ready to sit on the sidewalks and lawns to watch the display happening at the end of the cul-de-sac. 

you sat near sarah and some of her friends from soccer, listening to them gossip about what was going on in their highschool, but your focus was on joel. your eyes followed every movement of his, watching him pick up the boxes you had hauled out there and rearrange them. the gray t-shirt he was wearing was tighter around his arms, and you watched as the material strained against his biceps, his worn blue jeans curving to the muscles in his thighs. 

the sun had gone down hours ago, but your cheeks were burning like it was still noon. 

it finally came time for them to start the first round, and everyone chatted excitedly as they watched tommy set up the firework. you watched as joel tossed his brother a lighter, and before you knew it, sparks were flying across the pavement, and both brothers were running from it laughing. everyone’s head tilted back as they followed the spark, and seconds later a ground shaking boom exploded, the sky becoming colored in blue sparks. the children cheered, the adults laughed, and the dogs went crazy barking. 

you watched a couple more rounds, grinning as kids began chasing each other with sparklers and laughing when tommy burned his finger slightly on a rouge firework. pushing up on your feet, you wiped your pants for straw pieces of grass while you turned to sarah. “hey, i’m gonna go grab a popsicle, do you want one, hun?” the girls eyes met yours and she nodded her head while still talking to her friend. 

you made your way into the garage where you knew joel kept a deep freezer full of goodies on sarah’s behalf. you grabbed the first one you saw, a red cherry popsicle, and opened it while you searched the freezer for sarah’s favorite. you were so preoccupied that you didn’t make out the sound of the door to the garage click shut under the noise of the fireworks, didn’t realize that you were no longer alone until you shifted up and rough, callused hands spread across your exposed middle. 

“joel,” you gasped, turning around in his grip with a laugh. his brown eyes were lit with amusement, but they darkened slightly as they roamed down your chest, down your hips where the strings of the bikini bottoms were peaking out. his hands slid down your sides, resting on the waistband of your shorts as he tucked his fingers through the belt loops.

“y’just had to wear this damn bikini, didn’t you?” his voice was rough, grumpy almost, but that was joel’s typical voice, so you just laughed in response. behind you, the freezer door fell shut, and joel took the opportunity to lift you up so that you were sitting on top. the cold surface made you shiver, but it was joel stepping between your legs, pressing his hips against yours harshly that gave you goosebumps. 

“well, a nice older man did buy it for me, so i felt compelled.” you teased, moving one of your arms to rest against his shoulder while you licked along your popsicle, the treat already melting in the heat building up in the garage. joel’s eyes zeroed in on the movement, and you couldn’t help but grin as you repeated the motion, sucking the popsicle further in your mouth than probably necessary, watching as his brown eyes practically blended in with his pupils. 

“god, you’re trouble,” joel managed to get out before his lips slanted over yours. you moaned into the kiss, consciously holding your popsicle to the side so it didn’t get all over the two of you. your other hand moved to the back of his head, fingers running through his brown locks gently. joel swiped his tongue against your bottom lip and made a low humming sound. “taste like cherries,” he commented, sliding his hand from your waist up to your throat. 

“it’s the popsicle,” you gasped out, feeling joel’s hand encompass your neck. he pulled your hips forward against his by your belt loop, rocking you against him. his lips trailed from yours down to your jaw, down your neck, to your chest. the action had you panting out his name like a prayer, and it only further encouraged him. he managed to untie your bikini top without you noticing, and he roughly yanked the material over your head. 

“let me see this thing,” leaning back, he took the popsicle from your grip, your hand becoming sticky from it melting in your hand. he licked it himself, which had you giggling, but then he put the treat up to your mouth. “open up, baby. wanna see you lick this like you lick me, yeah?” his voice was soft, comforting almost, which went against the actions of his hands, as one tightened around your neck and the other pushed the cherry treat into your mouth. 

your eyes went hazy, and you focused on maintaining eye contact with joel while your face burned with heat. your mouth wrapped around the popsicle, letting him push it in as far as it could go. the coldness of the treat shocked you momentarily, feeling a slight burning sensation against your tongue as he held the popsicle in your mouth for a moment before slowly pulling it out. 

your cheeks hollowed against it, sucking as much of the flavor off as you could, and when joel pulled it out of your mouth, a red string of your spit fell from your lips to your chest, dripping down in between the valley of your breasts. “fuck, honey.” joel groaned, his hips rutting against yours momentarily before he leaned down, licking up the trail of red juice on your skin. a whimper escaped from your mouth as you pressed your chest closer to his mouth, and joel took the opportunity to force the popsicle back in your mouth. 

he slowly moved the popsicle inside your mouth, and even though he had his eyes closed while he pressed his mouth against your chest, you twirling your tongue around the treat, wanting to please him always. you could feel your bathing suit bottom sticking to your core with how wet you were becoming, and you wiggled your hips against joel’s body to get some type of friction. 

he sucked one last kiss against your neck, biting against your skin before he pulled away. “goddamn, baby. such a good girl for me, huh? suckin’ on this popsicle like it’s my damn cock.” his crude words made you whimper, and with one last twist, he pulled the popsicle out of your mouth. his dark eyes stared at your mouth for a moment, taking in how red the popsicle made your lips. how wet they were from your saliva. 

joel’s mouth formed into a smirk before it was pressed against yours. your fingers tangled in his hair, your nails scratching his scalp faintly. he sucked your bottom lip in his mouth, running his tongue over it slowly as if savoring the cherry flavor. his teeth nipped your lip, causing a moan to emit from your mouth. joel grinned against your mouth, and you tugged him closer, desperately seeking more. 

the air in the garage was becoming suffocating, and you could feel sweat forming along your upper body. joel could feel it too, still clad in his t-shirt and jeans, and he gave you one more deep kiss before he pulled away. “you feelin’ hot, baby?” you could only nod your head, a whimper escaping your mouth as he grinned wickedly at you, eyeing the popsicle once more, the treat half melted. “let’s cool ya down, then.”

you watched with a slightly opened mouth as joel moved the popsicle to your chest, and you gasped when he pressed it against your skin, moving it down the valley of your breast. the coldness made goosebumps rise across your chest, and you couldn’t help the small moans at how good it felt. joel’s attention was solely on popsicle, watching the sticky trail of red juice follow where he guided it. 

“joel,” you whimpered, reaching down to grip his forearm tightly. you could see him smile, could see him bite down on his bottom lip as he moved the popsicle to trail over your nipple. the gasp you made had him obsessed, and he ran the cold treat over your sensitive nub over and over again, taking in your gasps and moans, which were being drowned out by the fireworks outside. 

“fuck, you look so pretty like this.” joel muttered, almost to himself, but you could make out the words in his deep voice. he sounded strained, as if he were holding himself back from simply pouncing on you. you wish he would, though, as you could feel your inner thighs become wet with your slick. your core was clenching around nothing, and it had been so long since the two of you were able to get away that you were desperately aching for him. 

the popsicle was melting quicker now, the juices moving swiftly down your stomach as joel traced the popsicle across your chest to the other nipple. you were squirming as much as you could, seconds away from begging joel to stop and to just fuck you already. but you could see it in his eyes that he wanted this, that he was enjoying this, so you let him have it, and you admired the growing bulge in his jeans. 

soon the popsicle was nothing but a puddle mixed into your skin, and joel tossed the stick to the side. “think i need to clean you up now, baby. look at the mess you made,” he said with a tsk, as if you were the one who drew on your chest with the popsicle. you didn’t have it in you to argue, though, especially when joel bent down and took your sensitive nipple in his mouth.

the contrast of the cold popsicle juice with joel’s warm mouth had you groaning, and you slumped against the garage wall as joel traced the popsicle trail with his tongue across your chest. he would pause here and there to place open mouthed kisses along your skin, and you knew in the morning you’d have some small bruises littering your skin. you liked wearing them though, liked having the reminder than joel had marked you as his. because you were, undoubtedly. 

“joel, baby, please,” you whimpered, not fully understanding what you were asking for, but joel thought you were begging so beautifully. he wanted to hear you plead his name for the rest of his life. he pulled your nipple in his mouth, tweaking it with his teeth. a sharp pain flitted through your body, only lasting a second, but he did it again, and again, and soon you were panting.

“please, what?” joel mocked, grinning against your skin as he moved to squeeze your breast with his rough hands. “this not enough for ya?” satisfied that he cleaned up the mess the popsicle had made, he trailed his mouth up to your neck and across your jaw before pausing right in front of your face. his breath was warm as it fanned across your face, and you leaned in to kiss him but he pulled away, a teasing grin on his face. 

“no,” you whined, moving your hands down the waist of his jeans. he let your fingers fumble with the button before he unbuttoned his pants himself, yanking the zipper down. your hand went inside his boxers immediately, and joel let out a curse as your fingers wrapped around the hard length of this cock. just the feeling of it in your hand had you moaning, and you slid your hand along his shaft the best you could in your position. 

“‘course it ain’t enough for you. your needy little cunt needs more, yeah? needs my cock in it to stretch it out?” his hips moved in rhythm with your hand, his hand resting against the freezer top in a fist. his eyes fell shut as you pumped along his cock, and you bit down on your bottom lip as you watched him. you loved seeing him like this, because it made you feel powerful. like you were the only person who could bring joel pleasure like this. 

with a growl, joel’s hands suddenly moved to your shorts, where he unbuttoned them with swiftness and yanked them down. you lifted your hips, helping him get the material past your thighs, and they fell to the garage floor. “feet up, baby.” joel tapped your thigh gently, and you removed your hand from his boxers, lifting your legs up and bending your knees to rest your feet on the edge of the freezer. 

you wanted to blame the wet feeling between your legs on the humid air gathering inside the garage, but you would’ve been a damn liar. you could feel yourself soaking through the material of your bikini bottoms, and you knew the moment joel was able to see it because he let out a string of curses. he brought his hand to the material, running his fingers gently down the seam, and you both moaned. 

“jesus christ, honey. have you been wet like this for me the entire time?” his southern accent was starting to show more, as it did when he got excited. he ran his fingers along the seam once more before pushing the flimsy material to the side and running his finger through your wet folds, and he groaned at feeling how wet you were before sliding one of his fingers inside of you. 

“oh, yes, joel. please, fuck me, please,” you whimpered, your hips rocking against the freezer in tandem with his finger as he pumped it inside of you. if you were more cognizant, you would’ve probably been embarrassed by the noise that was coming from between your legs, but you were too lost in the pleasure, especially when joel moved his thumb up to glide against your clit. 

“you are askin’ nicely, baby,” he said, mostly to himself as he watched his finger push inside of you, watched the wetness that coated it with every pump. he was obsessed with the way you were clenching around him, and he could hardly wait himself to feel that movement against his dick. “yeah, i think i will fuck ya.” 

with one last push, he pulled his finger out from inside you, and laughed when he heard you whine about the loss. “‘s okay, honey. promise i’m gonna fill that little pussy up with my cock real soon, okay?” he made quick work of letting his jeans hit the floor, soon followed by his boxers. his throbbing cock sprung free from his underwear, and you couldn’t help but trail your hand down to your core, pushing your bottoms to the side and slipping your fingers through your wetness at the sight of him. he let out a low groan before spitting in his hand, bringing it to the tip of his cock and slowly palming it while he watched you swirl your fingers against your clit. 

“here baby, make sure ‘m nice and wet for that pussy,” joel muttered, stepping closer to your body as held the underside of his cock in his hand, still pumping it up and down slightly. you ran your fingers through your folds once more, gathering the wetness that had started to spread down your thighs, and reached out to wrap your fingers around his tip. soon, the head of his cock was shining from both his spit and your juices. 

joel moved his left hand to settle on your waist, tilting his thumb down just enough to pull the material of your bikini to the side. his other hand continued to work his shaft as he moved even closer, his knees hitting against the side of the freezer. his eyes were solely focused on your exposed pussy, but you were watching his face, wanting to see his expression when he put it in for the first time. 

“god, you’re so pretty down here. think i’m the luckiest man in texas, baby.” joel said, a smirk settled on his lips as he ran the tip of his cock through your folds, your mouth dropping open in a sigh as you felt it slide against your clit. joel moved to grip the hem of his t-shirt, and he lifted it to his mouth, holding it between his teeth. you took in the sight of his tan and toned body, and then his eyes snapped up to meet yours as he pushed the head into your wet hole, the both of you taking in each other’s reaction. 

you fought the urge to close your eyes, the feeling of his big cock stretching you out was almost too much for you. your nose scrunched up slightly, and a louder moan came from your throat. for the first time that night, you were glad tommy had spent two hours shopping for fireworks, as the sound of the explosives and festivities drowned out your cries. joel bit down on his bottom lip as he continued to push himself inside of you, mentally focusing on not coming right then and there. 

he paused when he was fully seated inside of you, taking a moment to catch his breath as the two of you were both panting in the heated garage. you noticed joel’s forehead had become slick with sweat, and you gently brushed back the dark hair that had fallen forward. your hand slipped down to rest on his cheek, and he pressed a kiss into the middle of your palm before he started moving his hips. 

“fuck, joel,” you whimpered, your foot slipping from it’s hold on the edge of the freezer. joel moved his right hand to grip your thigh, spreading you open before him once more. his nails dug little half-moon imprints in the fat of your thigh, and the angle allowed you to take him a little deeper than before. 

“that’s what i’m doin’ honey,” his words were slightly muffled from the t-shirt in his mouth, but you could see the grin from his teasing, letting out a sharp laugh before it turned into a groan. he moved to pull his cock out, and you almost cried at the loss, your hips moving on their own accord to follow his length. his grip on your waist tightened, keeping you still, until he barely had the head of his cock inside. he thrusted forward again, much quicker this time, and this time your eyes did screw shut at the feeling of is cock filling you up so completely. 

your hands rested on his shoulders, gripping him so hard that you were basically anchoring yourself to him. “so deep, joel… so good,” you praised, your head rolling back on your neck as joel continued to fuck you at a thourough pace. the t-shirt fell from his mouth as he started to moan. his knees banged against the freezer, the freezer banged against the wall, and the fireworks outside masqued both the sounds. curses and praises fell from joel’s mouth - “fuckin’ hell, baby. your pussy gets tighter every damn time i fuck you, huh? you’re doin’ so good, honey, takin’ my cock like a good girl” - and you were feeling so hot, so full. joel was nearly fucking you into oblivion with how muddled your thoughts were. 

the sound of his skin slapping against your wet skin was all you could focus on, a noise you would’ve been more embarrassed by if it weren’t a testament of how turned on joel made you. each stroke of his cock had you whimpering, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. you moved a hand down to your pussy, moving your fingers against your clit and brushing up against his length every time he thrusted inside of you. the action not only made heat pool to your stomach, but it made joel groan. “that’s it baby, play with that little clit of yours. gonna make yourself come on my cock tonight? gonna let me fill this pussy up with my cum?” 

“oh my god, joel, please - right there,” you sobbed, your inner thighs shaking slightly as the feelings became too much to handle. joel picked up on how close you were to coming with how tightly your pussy was clenching around him, and he continued to thrust his hips against yours, the wet noises coming from between your legs made his head feel light. 

small, breathy pants fell from your mouth as you moved your fingers faster against your clit, and distantly you could hear joel encouraging you to let go - “that’s it, honey. you’re takin’ my cock so well, let me make you feel good baby.” - and as joel leaned forward to place a kiss on your damp forehead, you felt yourself burst. a loud cry came from your lips as your body went rigid, little white stars showing up behind your eyelids as pleasure coursed through every vein in your body. 

“oh, fuck, baby,” joel groaned out, his grip on your body becoming impossibly tight as his hips thrust into you, his movements faltering slightly. the feeling of your pussy clenching around his length while you came was what sent him over, and he ground his hips against yours as he came. you could feel his cock throbbing, the warmth from his seed filling you up as joel tilted his head back and moaned. you watched him through hooded eyes, struggling to catch your breath, but the sight of joel coming was almost enough to help you come again. 

he kept his cock inside you as you both came down from your orgasms, and it moved inside you a little when he leaned forward again, making you whimper. “sorry, baby,” joel said softly, slowly pulling himself out while pressing his lips against yours. you eagerly kissed him back, moving a hand to rest on the back of his neck while he deepened the kiss. you felt unbelievably wet, and you couldn’t help but giggle. 

“your cum is running down my thigh, miller.” you said against his lips, causing the older man to laugh. he pulled away enough to take in the mess that was leaking out of your pussy, and then he did something that shocked you - he gathered up the slick with two of his fingers before pushing it back inside of you. your nails dug into his skin as his fingers entered your sore pussy, moaning softly as he watched himself intensely. 

his gaze moved back to your eyes, where he gave you a wicked grin before leaning in to kiss you again. you sighed against his mouth, your body relaxing on the freezer before the two of you started to clean yourselves up. joel went into the house to grab a washcloth and a spare t-shirt for you, considering your chest was stained red and covered in little hickeys. he gently cleaned the mess from between your legs, then himself, and helped you pull your shorts back on. you had him help tie your bikini top again, his fingers coasting against your skin. he gave the back of your neck a quick kiss before turning you around and putting his t-shirt over you. 

“there. now those pervs outside can’t catch a glimpse of ya,” he said, seeming satisfied with himself as he yanked up his pants. you couldn’t help but roll your eyes - his cum was literally dripping out of your pussy and yet he was acting jealous. 

“oh? you mean pervs like you?” you teased, laughing as he swatted away your fingers that were trying to poke him. you thought you heard him mutter something in agreement, but a particularly loud firework went off at the same moment, so you were clueless. you figured that they were on the finale with how frequent and how loud the next few fireworks were, so you gave joel one last kiss before sneaking out the door, which you thankfully noticed was locked. 

as you made your way to the grass, you mentally ran a checklist. you remembered to put your shorts back on, along with your top and a t-shirt. you remembered to clean off the freezer top with one of the towels joel kept in the garage, and you remembered to let your hair down to cover a hickey on the side of your neck. you remembered to go out the garage door, while joel went out through the living room, as he told tommy he was going in to get medicine for a headache. you felt like the two of you had covered all the bases as you sat down on the grass near sarah. 

“hey, where are our popsicles?”

oh, fuck. 

[dontdodrugs-dome]

Not mad just disappointed

15 yo Desiree

Dad!Jack x wife!reader

“Night mama night dad ” I tell them before leaving their room , I make my way up to my room to get ready for this block party one of my friends is throwing but while I change into my clothes a sudden feeling of guilt washes over me , I don’t like lying to my parents even if I’m technically not lying .

I immediately push the feeling down , I’m 15 I can handle sneaking out the house , all I have to do is manage to keep quiet so I don’t set off any alarms while sneaking out , I put on a crop top that stops just above my belly button and a short skirt that show off my curves just a bit , god if dad were to see this he would flip.

Exactly why he doesn’t know I bought the outfit , I don’t know if I should make my bed to make it look like I’m sleeping or what , but I need to leave soon because my friends are coming to get me , I snuck out my window since it’s not that big of a jump I see my friend car parked across the street away from the cameras so it doesn’t catch the movement.

Here’s goes nothing I think to myself , I really hope my parents don’t find out otherwise my ass is grass , “hey girl loosen up this is your first time sneaking out let’s have fun ” my friend Mia says , she’s not the brightest but dang can she throw a party , I give her a small smile , maybe this isn’t bad after all

Jack Pov

I got up to check on Desiree like I always do , hey you can’t blame me I love my daughter I just want to make sure she is safe and sound in her bed not before giving my wife a kiss on her forehead , God did I hit the jackpot on these two , wouldn’t change it for the world .

Getting closer to des door I slowly peak inside but God I wish I could say I was happy with what I saw but Lord knows I’ll be lying , I get upstairs and gently shake my wife “baby ” I try not to be that loud but I was going through so many emotions I don’t even know where to start “Jack you betta have a good ass reason on why you woke me up ” she says mean mugging me “baby des isn’t in her room ” she looked at me confused “ wtf you mean she isn’t in her room ?!” She starts getting out of bed .

I lead her to des room and showed her the empty bed she turns around to look at me , I never seen her look so mad in my life “she betta have a good ass reason on why she isn’t in this bed or else her ass gonna get it when she get back from wherever the hell she at ” we never took our daughter as the sneaking out type , I’m livid and worried at the same time .

I look around for her MacBook which is connected to her phone , she gave us the password a while back claiming that she has nothing to hide from us , I unlocked it with y/n looking over my shoulder at the screen too , I opened her most recent messages and I couldn’t believe what I was reading .

“She fucking snuck out I can’t believe this ” my baby MY child snuck out , we tracked her location and found out she was at that block party that everybody was talking about , she never been interested in that type of stuff , where is this coming from ? , “ let’s go put some clothes on and go get her - ” I stopped y/n because I had a better plan in mind , she wants to sneak out now she has to deal with the consequences.

Desiree pov

I’m on my 6 shot of tequila I really didn’t want to drink this but my friends insisted , I don’t want to be here anymore I want my parents , don’t get me wrong I love my friends and I’m not entirely against this party but I want to go home all of a sudden my stomach starts to hurt and my head is pounding , “hey Mia can you take me home I’m not feeling too good ” I say trying not to vomit , I don’t see how people drink this for a living .

“Find another way home I’m having a blast ” when she said that all I could do is look at her in disbelief, mama was right everybody ain’t yo friend I groan and leave the area , I call uncle urban not sure if he’s gonna answer I start to cry I regret this so much but he ends up answering “hey bug what’s up ” thank God , “uncle urb I wanna go home ” I choked out ”hey hey what’s wrong ” he asks concern.

“I made a mistake but I don’t feel like talking , can you come get me please ” I never should’ve snuck out “ofc I’m otw share your location ” I hung up after he said that I started sharing my location with him

(TIMEEE SKIP I DON’T FEEL LIKE WRITING OUT THE CAR RIDE 😭)

I make my way into the house not after thanking uncle urb though , he kisses my forehead and wishes me a goodnight , I try to sneak in through my window without making too much noise but suddenly the lights come on I see my parents standing there my dad had his arms crossed and my mom had her head in her hands I could tell she was disappointed and mad at the same time.

“ I can expla-” I frantically tried to reason with them but dad cut me off “ so this what we do now ? Huh we sneak out without permission not only that you snuck out in the middle of night anything could’ve happened ” dad says sternly I put my head down trying not to look him in his eyes because God knows if I do I’ll break down

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you Desiree ” he says sternly and a little loud “ you know what could’ve happened to you ? ” I finally meet his eyes I began to tear up “ I’m sorry ” I say starting to choke up my mom finally speaks up “ none of that wipe your face what did we say about crying ” she says looking me in my eyes I disappointed them .

Last thing I wanted to do was make my parents disappointed in me “that I’m too pretty to cry ” I said finally after a moment my dad speaks up again “I can tell you also been drinking des you do understand you are 15 right ? You do understand that you could get arrested for underage drinking right? " I didn’t think that far he steps closer to me “ you scared me des I didn’t know what you were up to at that party , for God sakes I could’ve lost you WE could’ve lost you , you are our world and if anything would’ve happened at that party we would’ve had to bury our baby , you have to understand that we keep you from things like that for a reason not because we want to take your childhood away but because we want to protect you , you are our little girl and if you would’ve gotten hurt we would’ve blamed ourselves ” my dad says while tearing up .

I didn’t realize how worried I could’ve made them if they were to find my bed empty, I never want my parents to blame themselves for my stupid mistakes “I’m sorry I’m truly am , please don’t be mad at me mama I’m sorry I just wanted to have fun with my friends I never intended on causing such a mess , please don’t be mad ” I say finally giving in and sobbing fully .

I ran into my fathers arms and hugged him tight , mama joined the hug and they both stroked my hair “we are not mad at you just disappointed , we don’t want to see you get hurt that’s all , we love you very much des ” I look up and smile at them “ I love you more ” my father smiled at me " but don’t get it twisted you still are in trouble , no phone for 2 weeks , chores would be given and no friends for 2 weeks , got it ?” My mama says “got it ” I said back while smiling before laying my head back on my father’s chest .

Who needs friends when you have the best parents in the whole wide world .

A/n - they are so cute I can’t😭😭❤️❤️❤️

[morningstar-chronicles]

dad.

once i fall back into the demon realm, darius adopts me and we have an awesome relationship. he makes dad jokes, but denies it. he's a really tidy, neat person, so he really hates the state of my room, but does a very good job of being supportive of it and my many interests, even though the mess causes him physical pain.

he always does his very best not to give me anxiety or make me upset unnecessarily. he's honestly the most supportive person in the world about my mental health issues, and he’s so kind. he encourages me to go to therapy six times a week, but every time i say no. he insists it's fine, because he's rich as hell (we live in a penthouse and he works for the emperor as a coven head bro he’s rich as fuck), but i'm legit just not interested in going. he's a great cook, and makes griffin-gnocchi soup once a week on fridays, because I do good work in the ribs on fridays. i also try and befriend hunter on fridays.

dad comes to every grudgby game, and keeps trying to get me to commit to a self-care routine, which i couldn’t do if i tried. he does skincare work on me and i just kind of let him, and does haircare on me once a month and no more often because i won’t let him. he's got an amazing fashion sense and bought me all the clothes that i own (obviously, because i am a child under his care). he lets me spend the money i earn working for the coven going out with my friends, or doing stuff on my own. but, if he’s out with me, he’ll always pay for whatever i get. he just always has more money i don’t understand it.

he calls me “darling” or “child”, and he does this even when I’m technically an adult. comes to flyer derby games, both for me and for hunter. he was a pegasus house when he was at hexside.

[dark-elf-writes]

So for you PYT AU, how do Inko and Oboro get married, do they just go down to the courthouse with a few people because that's all they need for their love? Or is it a sweet little backyard deal? Or is it further into Oboro career so he is making bank and they do a big do where he spoils Inko? Please I need details. Also I am envisioning Izuku as flower child.

At first I wasn’t sold that they would actually get married or if they would be the couple that just dates forever and calls each other husband and wife, but then I thought about benefits and possible issues with hero work if she isn’t his wife so yeah it would make more sense for them to be married.

The strike me as a couple that still wouldn’t rush into marriage though. Like Inko got massively screwed over in her last marriage and wasn’t even technically divorced until several years into her relationship with Oboro so I can see them having like a suuuper long engagement during which izuku just starts referring to Oboro as their dad because “my mom’s fiancé” is a god damn mouthful when you’re like ten and trying to tell a story and it’s not like they remember Hisashi being around anyway.

Oboro proposed in the most over the top way possible while still keeping it rather private. I’m talking a big family dinner at a restaurant he rented out completely, a nice walk where they were a bit in front of everyone else, candles, rose petals, biodegradable glitter and confetti poppers that Hizashi and Izuku aimed directly for both of their heads when she said yes. Incredibly romantic. Oboro is filmed on patrol with glitter stuck in his hair and the biggest grin on his face for DAYS.

The actual ceremony they would probably keep pretty small/pretty much a hero only affair. Both for security reasons and because Inko doesn’t really have any civilian friends and a lot of her coworkers weren’t the kindest after the news of their relationship dropped. Jokes on them though because after one too many glasses of wine at a gala it was learned that she, Jeanist, and surprisingly Snipe get along like a house on fire and no one knows peace again.

It is a backyard affair in the house that she and Oboro bought and he tends to the gardens on his time off as a stress relief thing. Izuku is the flower child looking completely adorable in their dress and flower crown even as they purposefully pelt their family members with flower petals because Oboro told them they could and Shouta definitely deserves it for some reason or another. Nemuri so the one that marries them as there would have been a fight trying to get her on one side of the wedding party over the other as while she might have been Oboro’s friend first her and Inko become like sisters over the years. There’s a lot of laughter and happy tears throughout the ceremony. Izuku is all but sobbing into Jeanist’s shoulder from the moment their mom gets to the altar because she looks so fucking happy. Their first kiss is with smiling lips and tears on both of their faces. Oboro immediately pulls back to grab Izuku like some sort of weird lion king scene because he did it. This is his family now.

The reception is a lot of terrible dancing and videos that get posted to social media that go viral because no one expects to see heroes act like normal fucking people/ what the hell is Lunch Rush doing that does not count as a dance but the ceremony is just for them.

[vagueandominousvibes]

For the ask game, orchid and chamomile?

Hi! I was hoping someone would say orchid, purely because the one I bought back in October has been blooming since New Year’s!! (It’s got three flowers!!! and one bud still to open!!!)

Orchid ⇢ What’s a song you consider to be perfect?

I’ve got to say ‘Spanish Train’ by Chris de Burgh, who’s the only artist I’ve ever seen live (a friend and I went to see him in uni, were the only 20-something-olds in a horde of 50-and-older, and we had a fantastic time). ‘Spanish Train’ is one of those songs dad and I would blast in the living room after midnight, when we were home alone, or in the car when the speakers were working, and I absolutely love the alternations between the mellow spoken parts and the parts where de Burgh just goes all out. 

The answer to the second question got kind of long, so I’ve hidden it in the ‘Keep reading’.

Chamomile ⇢ What were you like when you were younger? Do you think you’ve changed a lot?

I don’t know how much I’ve talked about it here, but I’ve for a long time been fascinated by how people change. You see it in my own fanfics (Arn’s arc in Just Close Your Eyes) and in some of my favourite novels (Apollo in The Trials of Apollo by Rick Riordan). I’ve also grown up with a gestalt psychotherapist for a parent, which ... yeah. I suspect I was a bit of a lab rat growing up. At least mum used to tell me she studied psychotherapy to Help Me. (In her book, queerness and autism require Help.)

My own fascinating with change comes from, I think, putting a lot of effort into changing myself during my years in uni. For about four years, about fifty percent of my time was spent observing myself, reflecting on my behaviour, and figuring out Who I Was. What I discovered was that Baby Me (0–4) and Young Adult Me (20–25) were surprisingly similar (excited by everyday things, enjoyed crafts and baking, and loved music and aesthetic designs). Baby Me grew up on a small seaside farm above the Polar Circle, and in those four years, I realised I wanted to return to that farm — to live there, nurture it, and run writing retreats there. It’ll take a lot of work to get the finances to do so, but as long as the farm stands, I’ll return there.

But. Change. 

Between Baby Me and Young Adult Me, there’s Teenage Me (5–19, technically ‘Child & Teenage Me’, but ‘Teenage Me’ for ease), and Teenage Me was not a good person. You know the idea of the Narcissistic Family? It’s the closest description I’ve found to explain the dynamics within my family. Teenage Me had an unfortunate obsession with wanting to make mum proud. As a result, I put others down in passive-aggressive ways and sought to make friends with “the right people” (as implicitly defined by mum: rich cis-het people, ideally white Christian). I was the Golden Child who achieved As and A*s in the majority of my subjects in school, I was always right, I was going to write novels, I was going to become a Professor and an artist, and I was going to have a brilliant future. (Ha. Ha ha. /s)

I’m still not sure how much of that was me and how much was mum, and I think that’s the rule for a lot of Teenage Me’s life: I had no idea where I ended and mum started, in terms of dreams, wants, and hopes. Honestly, it’s something I’m still struggling to untangle.

I like to think I’m moving away from my passive-aggressive ways, and that realising that I myself am not one of “the right people” has done wonders towards learning to value people for who they are rather than what they do and what they have. Setting boundaries is another new experience, and good gods it’s hard. Actually learning my own boundaries and being kind to myself is also really goddamn hard, and I’m still trying to figure out where the lines are between trauma bonding and info-dumping and just talking (is this info-dumping? or am I just talking? I’m answering a question and I have no idea). An unholy combination of depression and anxiety hasn’t made it any better.

That said, writing this today, I’m looking forward to the future. It’s raining outside, but I’ve had a clementine, I’m listening to ‘Champions’ by Kurt Hugo Schneider, and in a few hours I’ve got my first ballet class for beginners — something I’ve only recently worked up the courage to attend. I know I’m in my mid-twenties and that I’ve got years to grow and learn ahead of me. One day, I’ll reach a point of grounded self-assuredness. The depression and anxiety might never go away completely, and there are people I doubt will completely forgive me, but that’s part of growing and learning. It is for me to remember that every tree can be transplanted into better soil, and that there’s a sun above.

[thefirsthogokage]

Criminal Minds 5x12:

'The Uncanny Valley'

Spoilers: Yeah, I guess. Including the following comment on the episode.

Well that feels like an appropriate episode title considering my friend's note of "Human dolls." I've seen human dolls a few times in other shows, I think I can tough this one out.

Reactions/Commentary Below The Cut

This guy gonna die? Feels like he's gonna die. Oh no wait he finds the body, right?

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You wouldn't be able to mouth the words if he was actually reading as fast as Reid was supposed to be able to read.

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I definitely remember seeing this one before. I think this girl ends up fighting back.

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JOHNATHAN FRAKES?! Wait does he direct this too? Nope. He playing the bad guy then?

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This actress playing the ME is very believable. Not just a bit part kind of vibe. Interesting.

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Ugh, another example of "that's not how tasers work".

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(I'm wondering if I should time stamp my comments. Not that many people read these, and probably never will. Idk, if you read these and want me to add time stamps, please leave a comment and I'd be happy to at least try.)

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Oh, he's not the bad guy.

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Oh THAT girl didn't live, but maybe the next one does. Poor women.

Nice job on these actresses at keeping their eyes open. I wonder if when they have the camera pointed away from them, their eyes are actually closed, and the false eyelashes are placed where they would be if they were open.

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This woman's makeup actually takes away from her beauty.

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Oh damn that's right, she had other women.

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This dream/hallucination little scene is different f on their norm.

DON'T LET HE KNOW YOU CAN MOVE!

Oh that smile. She's knows she can get them out of there. Ugh, BADASS!

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I'm surprised they didn't have the woman who spotted the stitching earlier come back to help sort through the samples.

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Ah, yeah, no medical doctor should be willing to do something like that on a kid, unless it's their own parent 🙃 Do no harm, sir. Not that every doctor sticks to that, and many don't, especially if your POC, heavy, and heavy POC.

Oh Frake's is the dad, right? And I guess technically the bad guy who created the bad guy.

And no, you give someone ETC if you want them to forget.

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(I should not be eating this muffin, it's made with eggs, but I'm hungry 😭 I know I have stuff to do tomorrow, in the morning too, but ugh, I am hungry and need something quick that isn't the peanut butter I definitely shouldn't have bought. They've caused me trouble before. UGH.)

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This diabetic is such a badass.

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If she's lost concept of life and death, she really can't tell what she's doing is wrong, right? That's the assumption? Then why is she scared by the police? Or am I getting something wrong?

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There's Frakes!

I love how Spencer HATES child abuse. I assume it's especially from a professional that's supposed to help, supposed to be trustworthy. Matthew does a great job in this scene with the barely contained rage in his voice

But also, statute of limitations. They need to find new victims, but talking to the old ones, getting to come forward, I guess.

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GET BACK IN THE CHAIR!

Oh good! OH THE STUFF!

Sitting up like that for a prolonged period of time, that has take a strain on the spine.

OH DON'T TALK! SHE WOULD HAVE TO REALIZE THAT'S NOT NORMAL!

Nice job, Reid!

I don't think you can promise that, Reid.

The dolls really do look just like them.

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So, wait, no one else who knew the other women came forward to report them missing? Did I miss something?

[cryptidsurveys]

Friday, September 27th, 2024.

Do you ever do these surveys with your SO? I'm not in a relationship, but I might have done so in the past. If not with a partner, then perhaps with a friend or my sibling.

have you ever totally lied or made up ridiculous answers for surveys? Yes and yes.

do animal furs upset you? I wouldn't say they upset me - I don't really have an emotional reaction to them - but they aren't something I'd be interested in purchasing.

who picks the music when you’re riding in the car? My dad and I both listen to classical music while driving. If I was in someone else's car, then I would just let them pick the music.

do you have a waste basket in your car? I don't have a waste basket, but I do have a small trash bag. I brought it with me months ago because I had a terrible migraine and wanted it "just in case." Thankfully, it never came to that.

what’s the Spanish name for your favourite food? I don't know.

do you know anyone who regularly uses a bike for transportation? No.

do you consider audio books not really reading? It's technically not reading - it's listening - but I don't think that matters. You're still absorbing the content.

strangest thing you’ve ever put in the trunk of a car? I can't think of anything all that strange.

do you carry matches or a lighter? Sometimes I will take a lighter with me, but I don't carry one everywhere I go.

do you keep socks with a hole in them if they are your favorites? I don't have favorite socks. They're all boring white/gray or black.

have you ever mended clothing? Possibly.

last time you wore clothes that were too small on you? Idk. I tend to favor somewhat baggy clothing, so anything too small would be torturous.

have you ever frightened someone on purpose. not as a tease but to seriously scare them? Not as a prank, but maybe in some other situation that would generally fit this context...?

what’s the most shocking thing you’ve ever found out about someone that you know personally? I'm not going to reveal that. Also, it wasn't particularly shocking to me personally, but it might be to other people.

have you ever had something taken away from you by airport security? No.

what’s the last wild animal you have seen? Birds.

something you were surprised to learn about your parent’s childhood? I can't think of anything. I learned most of the "big stuff" when I was a child myself, so it was kind of just like, "Oh, okay." Certain things might have surprised me more if I had learned them later on in life, but (shrug).

do you store any non food items in the fridge? No.

have you ever told a friend you thought their parent was hot? No.

what was the last thing you bought from a gumball machine? Like those 25-50 cent prize machines? I have no idea.

how long ago was that? Idk.

have you ever destroyed another person’s belongings out of anger? I have.

plain band aids or fun ones? I'm fine with plain band aids, but if I ever came across some fun ones I just had to have, then I'd go with those.

which pain killer do you use? Equate migraine meds. I don't tend to take painkillers for anything else.

have you ever used someone else’s Rx med? Yeah.

have you ever borrowed underwear from a friend? I don't think so.

would you like to be part of a wedding party? It doesn't particularly interest me, but I would attend if it was for someone I cared about.

last pair of shoes you threw out and why? They were a black and bright blue slip-on pair given to me by Roxann (the owner of the pet shop where I did that work experience thing back in 2022). I ended up not wearing them after the job, so they sat around gathering dust and spiders until I finally tossed them.

have you ever thrown anything up to hang on the power/phone lines? No.

have your parents asked you to explain a term and you lied because it was inappropriate? Not that I can recall.

have you ever really stayed up all night to do homework? No.

last thing you couldn’t find because you put it someplace safe and forgot where you put it? I'm not sure.

have you ever had anything stolen from you? I don't think so…

have you had your house broken into? Not exactly.

if you could make up one rule for all your friends, what would it be? Nothing aside from normal expectations and boundaries.

do you pay attention to people’s posture? I pay attention to body language in general.

do you have a creepy uncle, or have a friend who has one? I don't (then again, I don't really know anything about my uncles). Idk whether Ollie has a creepy uncle or not.

have you ever backed into a cactus? ouch! No.

do any of your relatives not have home internet? As far as I know, all of my immediate relatives have internet.

when you get the munchies, do you want sweet or salty? In the past, I would have said salty, hands down. But I've developed quite a sweet tooth over the past few years, so it would just depend on what I was craving at the time.

Something you taught yourself how to do? Knit, but I've neglected it for so long that I would probably have to relearn it - maybe not entirely from scratch, but I'd have to review some of the basics, regain muscle memory, etc.

[mycharacterdump]

𝐋𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐓 '𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄' 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐑 a three - part symphony .

there's a blue light in my best friend's room there's a blue light in his eye i wanna see it shine there's a ship that sails by my window there's a ship that sails on by there's a world under it i think i see it sailing away i think it's sailing miles crashing me by crashing me by.

PART I. BLOOD

Things weren’t always this way. 

When I was a kid the clouds didn’t hang like gallows, the summers were swelteringly hot and the winters bitterly cold in the throes of the Mojave but I found salvation in river water and the crackling of firewood in the den, there were bubblegum scented secrets and promises sworn with dirt stained fingers, adventures every corner I turned, I could hear a melody in everything — even the windstorms that battered on our window shutters, even in the arguments my parents had that echoed off the kitchen tiles, even in the deafening silence of night. Music was imbued in every sound and the whole world was a lengthy love ballad that I had the divine pleasure of dissecting.

The day that music died, I was on my bedroom floor trying to decipher my pre-algebra homework and snacking on a pre-assembled food platter that Mom always bought on her way home from work. She could never be bothered to make them herself like other moms at my school did. Every other week there was a food related fundraiser where all the normal mothers in their Suburbans and perfectly ironed collared shirts would strut up the front steps of The Meadows with fresh baked brownies and gingersnaps or some obscure casserole recipe for Thanksgiving, and I would arrive alone to my classroom with a plastic container of sugar cookies.

As much as I resented her for it, the sugar cookies were always a hit with the other kids. Still I wished she would put in more effort. Even if I wasn’t technically hers. I could’ve been, though, I realized early on. If she wanted to, she could’ve claimed me.

Dad was put in the driver’s seat when I turned three. That’s when Mom wanted to go back to work after spending the last nine years raising my older half-brother George and I. Dad tried his best but he seemed damned by the universe in nearly everything he did when it came to homemaking. 

I overheard him once tell Mom jokingly that Mercers were cursed. Then I heard her agree.

Anyway, I was rail thin and still had a head full of dark brown hair that I always had pinned up in braids I learned myself, I walked through the front door and bright hazel eyes that hadn’t witnessed a shred of conflict. I was still dressed in my pressed blouse and navy blue skirt that had been my school uniform since I was five years old. I was kicking my legs around, colorful socks adorning my feet after I discarded my Mary Janes, the poster child for well-off, cautiously rebellious children everywhere.

My ears were plugged with a pair of earbuds that I had connected to my iPod. Dad let me buy whatever album I wanted off of our account for my birthday that year, so I wisely chose Avril Lavigne’s Goodbye Lullaby. While What the Hell reverberated against my eardrums I could faintly pick out the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut. That was a tell tale sign that George had gotten home from his study group — he and I had a terrible habit of being too rough with everything we touched. 

He must’ve noticed I’d stolen the platter, because instead of ducking into his room so he could continue studying (The Meadows was brutal when it came to homework, I realized as soon as I gradated elementary), he barged into my room. I let out a theatric scream with my mouth full of broccoli and scowled at him.

“I could have been naked!” I cried out. 

“God forbid I see you in a Hello Kitty training bra,” George snorted dismissively as he went to steal the platter. I held it away from him. “Don’t start, Lyo.”

“I’m still eating,” I hissed at him.

George and I never did get along. He was six years my elder and I think kind of resented me for being born. I took all the attention away from him and, since Dad took the reins, had less of a strict upbringing than he did with Mom. Plus I was just as smart as he was and it didn’t even take me hours of studying to get where I was already. That really pissed him off, despite the fact he had just gotten accepted to NYU Grossman and had taped the acceptance letter over my straight-A report card on the fridge so no one forgot. 

Most people didn’t even register that we were siblings, as while we both possessed gangly limbs and a face painted in freckles and the same green-brown hue in our irises, we couldn’t have been more different otherwise. He had a head full of ginger hair that I always weirdly envied as I was given my birth mother’s dark tresses, and he had a paler complexion, skin ghostly white while mine was more sun kissed — which I thought looked better anyway, considering we lived in Nevada. His nose jutted out from the middle of his face and mine was flat in a way that my first grade teacher described as puggy and his eyes were round and puffy and mine were angular with a distinct curve. 

We both considered this a blessing, even if I used to pray at night that I would wake up and we’d look more alike so the kids and teachers at school would see me as a real Mercer.

“You’re gonna need to start packing soon,” he chose to say while popping a carrot into his mouth. I narrowed my eyes at him. He didn’t falter. Why would he, after all? I was seventy-five pounds of attitude and a bit of arrogance. 

“Why would I do that?” I asked in return. “Are we going to Disney Land or something?”

George chewed his carrot loudly. I flinched but tried my best to focus on the equation in front of me when he didn’t answer me immediately. “No,” he eventually said. “New York.”

“New York?” I echoed. He nodded. “Why are we going there? To see your stupid college?”

“Because Mom’s moving there,” he informed me.

I seemed caught off guard by this. I didn’t believe him at first, naturally. “Bullshit.” I denied.

“Not bullshit,” he said. “Don’t act surprised. You know her and Dad have been fighting since forever.”

I swallowed when he said this. I knew that much was true — Mom and Dad couldn’t seem to last a day without divulging into a petty argument over the most menial things. I had learned a long time ago how to drown it out and immerse myself in my own world. When I was really little I would try and intervene, thinking I could somehow save them from each other, but of course I was too small and my voice didn’t carry and I was always overlooked. 

“I’m not going to New York,” I immediately denied. 

“... Okay,” George said as he shrugged and left my room with the platter, kicking the door shut behind him.

And that was that. No one was putting up a fight for me. Not like they ever did.

I guess they thought I would feel grateful. It would be Dad and I, how Mom thought it should’ve been since the day I was left on their doorstep. And I wasn’t that upset over it being the two of us, more so that I had every gnawing doubt confirmed that she held no maternal instinct when it concerned me. Not even deep in the crevices of her psyche. Not even in her DNA, like they said most mothers did. 

I was holding out hope she would take me in as her young.

In truth, she would’ve eaten me alive.

Dad encouraged me to help George pack — a symbol of good faith, I once thought, before I walked in on Dad collapsed in a puddle of his own tears and I realized that he himself couldn’t stomach seeing his first born and only son off. This time I felt this immeasurable guilt. Somehow, I’d convinced myself that this was all my doing. If I hadn’t been born or if my birth mother had wanted me, none of this would be happening. I had destroyed a family. The one thing my father ever wanted, I singlehandedly dismantled with my hands still too small to fit a human heart in them. How was I meant to fix him? I couldn’t even take his burdens for him, if just for a moment.

We watched Mom and George climb into her sleek Porsche and cruise out of Jadeleaf Court where we had spent my entire life as a family, or else a crude resemblance to one. 

The silence between Dad and I was deafening.

Life, as always, carried on. I went to school the next day without pestering George in the kitchen over breakfast. We were territorial about our shared love of Cap’n Crunch Berries. Now the family size box was all mine. It felt odd, sitting alone at the kitchen isle and scooping up the greasy cereal and shoveling it into my mouth without worrying about my older brother creeping up behind me so he could dump the bowl onto my uniform. Dad and I didn’t know what to talk about during the car ride to school. Normally there were interjecting voices complaining at each other that made us laugh to ourselves, because how couldn’t they see how wonderful the world was outside of their material worries? And when I came home at the end of the day, the house was silent. The peace was disturbing.

Kids at school weren’t shy to gossip. Some of them who lived in my neighborhood had witnessed Mom’s car leave and never come back, others heard whispers from their parents who worked with her at the dinner table and soon enough it was public knowledge that we were on our own. I tried not feeling ashamed; I tried embracing it, that we were taking on the world ourselves, but it was difficult when an invisible weight was placed on my shoulders every time I passed a group of people in the hallway and they’d side-eye me like I was some circus freak for not having a mother anymore. 

One day, after I’d stepped off the bus (Dad went back to work full-time about a month after they left, so no more pick-ups), I was dragging myself home through the thick heat of the desert and drowning out my surroundings with music when I noticed a car pull up beside me. It was slim and black and there was a Chevrolet emblem reflecting the sunlight off the hood. I was never that interested in cars, but I did recognize this one. It was Mr. Echols’. He taught pre-calc, a class I had undertaken that year ahead of all my peers. I always thought he was handsome; he had short-cut black hair that began sprouting a few shakes of salt on the sides, these piercing blue eyes, and a cocksure demeanor that catered well to an audience of hormonal girls on the edge of seventeen. I also liked the way he would untuck his shirt at the end of lessons on long days and I could catch a glimpse of his lower stomach and happy trail. The boys said it was intentional. I thought they were all stupid.

“Lyonet?” Mr. Echols spoke up as he rolled down his window. I tucked some flyways behind my ear, wondering if he meant me and not some other Lyonet that happened to be walking down the same street as me. But he kept looking at me with his dreamy eyes and I almost sunk into the scathing concrete. Almost. I managed to swallow my quickly forming doubts about my appearance and nodded at him.

“That’s me,” I replied, my whole disposition a bit maladroit. 

“What are you doing walking in this heat?” he asked, his mouth slanted as he flashed me a grin and jerked his head toward the empty passenger seat. “Get in, I can drive you home.”

I didn’t have the stomach to tell him that most doctors would conclude I was still too small to be allowed in the passenger seat, obediently rounding the front of the car and climbing inside. I fumbled around for the seatbelt before I could hear Mr. Echols chuckle and reach over, pulling the leather strap over me and buckling me in. I glanced up at him, my hazel eyes, the only thing I inherited from Dad, it seemed sometimes, crossing gazes with his own that I thought had more backlight whereas every time I saw myself in the mirror it looked like my soul had been carved out and I was some uncanny valley replicant of who once was Lyonet Mercer. 

“What’s your address?” he then inquired. I gave him the answer in a too quiet voice. “What was that?”

“9236 Jadeleaf Court,” I repeated, a little louder this time. 

Mr. Echols nodded and pulled away from the curb. I glanced through the rearview mirror and watched the stop sign I was at shrinking in the distance, the words warping from behind the heat waves. 

It didn’t occur to me until he began talking that I still had music playing faintly in my ears. I quickly yanked my earbuds out and crumpled the wires up in my hands and he chuckled in a way that made me feel warm and my guts twist inside out. 

“You couldn’t tear me away from my Walk-Man when I was a kid,” he said, giving a fond sigh as he cruised along the streets of Cherry Creek. “I’d rather have died than sit on the bus without any music. Of course, well, I listened to old shit. The Police, Van Halen, R.E.M, etc.”

I smiled at him. I liked hearing people talk about music — it was one of the few things Dad and I had left that wasn’t tainted by Mom and George’s leaving. “I love those,” I told him. He seemed caught off guard.

“Wasn’t aware kids knew them,” Mr. Echols said. He sounded earnest about it rather than condescending, which I appreciated. “Everyone in my classes is listening to Kanye and Jay Z and, uh, Nicki Mirage?”

“Minaj,” I corrected with a laugh that left my lips before I could stifle it. “I — I like them, too. But my Dad only listened to old rock when I was little. Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd and Sonic Youth and Def Leppard… Some Blondie, too. We would dance around the kitchen to More Than A Woman.”

Mr. Echols sported that charming grin again that made me sink further into my seat. “Wow, a man of taste. Or maybe just an old man like me,” 

“I don’t think you’re that old,” I decided to return. Who knew I could be so playful? Nowadays I felt too drained to give anyone the time of day, let alone the sprite I used to possess.

He laughed, then leaned in closer and my eyes widened before he grabbed onto the glove box and opened it. A binder of CDs was revealed and his eyebrows perked up at me encouragingly. I reached my hands forward and slid it out of the compartment, immediately starting to browse his collection. I must’ve been smiling hard because he stuck his hand out to poke at my cheek. 

“How’s that for old? Pop one in, we’ll drive a few circles around the neighborhood.”

In the end, we wound up doing three loops around the subdivision while jamming out to Ghost in the Machine. I would headbang and he would laugh and then join in when we came to a full stop. During the songs I did recognize, we would turn them into duets, and it wasn’t until the sun was cresting the horizon that he finally pulled up in front of my house and ejected the CD from the mouth of the player.

I grabbed my backpack up off the floor after unbuckling myself, not needing any help this time, and smiled brightly at Mr. Echols. I couldn’t remember the last time I had so much fun or felt so carefree. Not even my friends could coax laughter out of me most days where as once my voice was my most prized instrument. 

“... Thanks, Mr. Echols,” I said at last. 

“Rory,” he corrected me. I could feel my heart flutter. We had graduated to a first name basis already? I felt compelled to return the gesture.

“Lyo,” I returned and stuck my hand out cheekily. He rolled his eyes as if we’d been friends for decades and needed no introduction, but he eventually caved and accepted it, shaking my hand gently. 

As I pulled my hand away and began to push myself out of the passenger seat, he grasped my shoulder in an attempt to stall me. It worked. Of course it worked. I looked back at him and cocked my head sideways curiously.

He pressed his lips into a thin line before bringing his cell phone out his pocket. “Put your number in,” he said. “For emergencies. I know it’s just you and your Dad now. I wouldn’t want you to feel alone if anything happened to him.”

I blinked in surprise. I wasn’t sure it was allowed, but then again, I couldn’t find it in me to care. I accepted his phone and typed in my number and saved it under the initial L. I didn’t add any emojis. That seemed too risky, at least in my opinion. So did giving him a name that was easily identifiable. I didn’t want him getting in any trouble over a good deed.

I finally left the car and trotted up to the front door, a grin forming on my lips. 

From then on out, I was beginning to feel like myself again. Maybe even a little better. I woke up early in the mornings like I used to and made breakfast for Dad and I — even if it was just bowls of cereal — and I would take my time in the shower so I could condition my hair twice to make it look extra shiny and smooth for when I got to school, plus I started paying for my uniforms to be dry cleaned like Mom used to have them done before and I convinced Dad to take me out driving. I wanted to learn as to not have that dependence on the bus anymore, since the kids were still ruthless and took pleasure in tugging on the braids that took me the better half of each morning perfecting and snatching my phone out of my hands to see what I was using as a means of ignoring them all. For private school snobs, they acted like fucking animals.

I was looking forward to the holidays. The entire summer and half of autumn had been the worst time of my life and I knew that with my invigorated spirit Dad and I could make something worthwhile out of what we were given. I didn’t even care if George planned on making time to fly out for Thanksgiving or Hanukkah; I had it covered from here on out. I was ahead of the curve. Acing all my tests, avoiding half the curbs upon rounding street corners, and keeping up with my appearance more than I ever had before. 

I was nearly full grown.

PART II. FLESH

The first day of Hanukkah I had received a text message from Rory. We were communicating daily at that point, even on the weekends. He would ask me about school and my homework at first, then it unraveled into him divulging all the gory details about the affairs rampant in the teacher’s lounge, and eventually I would clue him in on the day to day student theatrics that took place in my other classes. 

R: Think you can meet me at the end of the street?

I glanced away from my Korean coursework (Dad insisted that I take extra classes after Mom and George left) when I noticed my phone light up and I could feel a smile being woven on my lips. 

L: be there in a sec

I rifled through my drawers for some after school clothes and settled on a shorter cut sundress and one of Dad’s hand-me-down cable knits, pulling my hair up into two messy space buns that sat square on the back of my head before tugging on my sneakers and rushing out of my bedroom, practically tumbling downstairs. When Dad called out asking what the fuss was about, I dismissed it with a simple Diggy’s outside. Diggy, or Diego, was a kid I’d befriended in the fifth grade and the only thing that kept us in the same circle was our shared adoration for Dungeons & Dragons. He was a cleric. I was a fighter. We worked well together, I thought. We always had each other’s back.

And it’s not like I didn’t want Dad to know about Rory — okay, maybe I didn’t, because I had enough wits to understand that we’d struck up an unusual sort of relationship but I didn’t know if I had the vocabulary available to explain to Dad that it wasn’t like what met the eye. I was an old soul after all, like he’d said from the time I was a toddler, and that meant mine and Rory’s were the same. 

I wrote somewhere it was like we were forged from the same star. The more we got to know each other the brighter we burned together.

I spotted his car from my driveway and sped walk down the street. I kept readjusting my sundress and sweater, hoping one wouldn’t detract from the other as I approached the passenger side and ducked into the seat. Rory was watching me the entire time with a grin I could only describe as fond. It made my heart flutter, admittedly.

“That’s cute,” Rory said at first. My eyebrows leaned inward and he gave a chuckle. “What you’re wearing. You know you don’t have to dress up for me.”

Instinctively my face flushed and I touched my cheek which felt like it was burning. “I was just changing. School makes me sweat.” I blurted, then flinched at my wording. He was amused by it, at least. I kept cursing myself in my head until he reached out and brushed his fingertips across the back of my neck.

“I meant it as a compliment,” he reassured. “I like your hair this way. Let me guess, you appreciate old cinema as well as music?”

“... Is Star Wars that old?” I asked in return with a crooked smile. It took every ounce of confidence for me to summon anything more than awkward, disjointed laughter that I felt bubbling up in my chest. 

“Guess not. It’s not technically cinema either.” he joked as he leaned back casually against his seat, his arm still slung over the head rest of my seat. 

I glanced around for a moment, then cleared my throat. “So, um… What’s up?” I asked eventually. The tension between us was palpable. I nearly choked on it. 

“Oh, that’s right,” Rory said, reaching behind me and pulling out a sloppily wrapped gift box from the backseat. My eyes widened, caught off guard by the sudden gesture. We were giving each other presents now? But it wasn’t even Christmas yet, so maybe I had time— “Happy Hanukkah, Lyo.”

I lit up. He had gotten me something for a holiday he didn’t even celebrate? I beamed down at the present before he coughed into his fist, prompting me to begin opening it. When I tore away the crinkled wrapping paper and slid off the lid, I was taken aback by the sight of his binder of CDs decorated with a bright red bow. 

“Holy shit,” I breathed out as I reached to take it out of the box. “Is this—?”

“My personal collection,” Rory confirmed with a chuckle. 

I started shaking my head. Manners dictated I did so. “I can’t have this,” I insisted first while still taking a peek at all of the CDs kept in their individual sleeves.

“Of course you can. It’s already yours. Plus, it’ll get much more use out of you these days than it will me,” he said, extending a hand to place upon mine. I could feel every nerve in my body being struck by pulses of adrenaline. 

“... Thank you,” I said quietly. I didn’t think it through when I looked up at Rory and saw his blue-blue eyes and stupidly alluring grin and leaned in so I could leave a soft kiss on his pinkened cheek. I froze in place, knowing I must have crossed some invisible boundary that had been set up from the moment we became friends off campus, but while he didn’t respond at first eventually he placed a hand under my chin and tilted my head so our lips could meet. 

It was gentle and tentative and everything I could’ve ever asked for out of a first kiss. All the other boys that showed interest in me before were too eager, too obnoxious and not to mention too grimy. Rory was none of those things — he was their diametric opposite, really. He was calm, he paced himself in everything he did, he was mellow and he had this intoxicating scent of cologne that he must’ve knew would drive all the girls in his class insane. It certainly had that effect on me. 

He pulled away before I did. Personally, I could’ve kept kissing him until I lost my breath, but then I reminded myself we were still in plain sight and anyone passing by could’ve seen us and been thrown off. The last thing I wanted was some middle-aged mother witnessing us together and crying wolf over a situation I felt I had total control over, so I sunk back into my seat with the binder still in my lap.

“I should go,” Rory said at last. I eyed him for a long time, still feeling the compulsion to bring him into another kiss. I couldn’t help it. I hadn’t felt so aware of my surroundings until that very moment. Life had felt like I was wading through a pool of old memories and remnants of what could’ve been ever since Dad and I were left on our own. 

“I — I liked it,” I said suddenly. He glanced over at me, seeming more wary than before, and it made me feel guilty. I had instigated it. I might’ve just ruined it, too. “And I like you. A lot. I know it’s strange because of our ages but — but no one’s really cared to try and, y’know, talk to me and even care about my life, like, ever. Ever ever. But I don’t wanna ruin this, either, so if I should stop just tell me—”

“Lyo,” he let out.

“No, really, it’s fine, I’ll go,” I decided as I held the box close to me and went to open the door. Before I could step out, Rory took a hold of my upper arm and kept me seated. I looked back at him. He seemed conflicted; not sure whether letting me go or having me stay would be the right choice. I knew it must’ve been difficult and I wished that burden hadn’t been plaguing whatever relationship we had.

His eyes met mine. Time stilled. “North Shore Inn,” he said. “it’s in Overton. Meet me there on Saturday. Ten o’clock.”

I’d never been to Overton nor heard of the North Shore Inn, but I wasn’t going to reject his offer. It might’ve been the last night of Hanukkah, however I knew that Dad would likely be asleep by then and I could sneak out with relative ease, and I was right. I didn’t know how I was supposed to dress — casual or showy? I lacked any of the tool to put on a face of makeup; Mom had given me the products she wasn’t bringing with her to New York, but those had long since expired and I feared the repercussion would be a horrendous outbreak, so I decided to make up for it by wearing one of my form-fitting tees and the most expensive cargo pants I owned. I covered myself up with an oversized hoodie after assembling my hair into buns and crept downstairs.

I was right. Dad was passed out in the recliner. Unlike most fathers, one glass of wine incapacitated him rather than a pack of beers, which was kind of ironic considering he was born and bred in France. He used to tell George and I he quit drinking for us. George never really believed him, mostly because Mom was hypervigilant every time he held a glass of whiskey at backyard gatherings that he would at best sip at to be polite before pouring it into the bushes. That was the Dad I remember. My Dad. I wondered often if George felt betrayed by him when I was born. Maybe that was why he refused to see him as anything but a pretentious wannabe philosopher — I just saw a man trying desperately to mend the wounds he created in his youth through the only means he knew how: not through hard logic but sensibility. 

Not so many men in the world were that gentle and thoughtful. No one, I thought, except for Rory.

I biked across town, my calves straining by the time I had crossed the limit into Overton. After a while of aimlessly cruising around I spotted the glowing sign for the North Shore Inn. I could feel a pit form in my stomach which disconcerted me at first before I pushed it aside and pedaled forward. I ditched my bike near the fence and hoped no one on this side of town would feel compelled to grab it, sauntering around the premises until I stumbled across Room 44.

Holding my breath I stared at the metal numbers. Could this be real? It had to be, as I was more aware of every extremity I possessed not to mention all the organs that pulsed deep within the cavity of my chest. Finally, I raised my fist and left three quick raps on the door. A part of me didn’t expect anyone to answer. Maybe he’d changed his mind. Maybe he thought it was too risky, that I wasn’t worth losing everything for. I would’ve understood. It wouldn’t be the first time someone left me behind.

Then, the door came open, and I saw his smile and the whole world began spinning faster on its axis.

He told me I looked comfortable. I felt a blush encroach upon my cheeks so I reached down and tugged my hoodie over my head, revealing the tunic I had on underneath. His expression softened as he examined me; I felt like I was being picked apart surgically, all methodical and calculated. I was still a skinny thing. I found it difficult to eat the past few months, even more so than before. Hanukkah was supposed to have helped, but I felt too nauseous half the time thinking about Rory and the time we’d spent together. It was a good sick, I think. A lovesick. 

After scrutinizing me for a while, he invited me to sit beside him on the edge of the motel bed. It was stiff and the duvet was noticeably cheap but I didn’t mind. All I could focus on was him. He reached out and placed his palm against my burning cheek. I swallowed hard. I didn’t know what to do, how to perform best for him — he’d surely had plenty of women, how was I meant to compete? 

You can relax, he said, all breathy and full of tension. I obeyed as best I could. I let my shoulders go slack and I could feel my breathing slow, though it was more of an intentional thought than a natural response. Our eyes met for just an instant before his gaze drifted to where my lips were. I’d smothered them in lipgloss as I was heading out the door, so they shimmered and would taste like strawberries. Instead of engulfing me in a heated kiss, he moved his thumb over my mouth to smear away the lipgloss and then pressed his lips against mine. 

My eyebrows furrowed but I didn’t protest. How could I? I figured I’d wanted this for longer than even I had realized in that one paralyzing moment. And I was paralyzed. For some reason it felt like I was no longer in control of the situation as he lowered me onto the lumpy pillows and groped parts of me that hadn’t yet been explored by anyone and left dry kisses on my face and neck. I squirmed around at some point, which must’ve upset him somehow as he grasped my wrists and pinned them above my head. My breathing quickened. I felt my heart rebel against me as it rattled in my chest. He must’ve felt it somehow, because he kept saying Relax, relax, relax, but I couldn’t.

I don’t know what happened. I thought I was ready for this. I felt ready until the moment I dreamt of had come to fruition and I could feel his hands all over me and his lips reaching places I had only ever touched in the dark. When I lowered my arms so I could place them on his shoulders in an attempt to ground myself it only seemed to irritate him as he held tightly onto my wrists and pinned them back above my head.

I tried to like it. I wanted to so badly. More than anything I wanted to find the beauty and pleasure in the act. The raw passion and the aching desire. But I just… Laid there. Almost entirely motionless, I stared up vacantly at the ceiling and counted each thrust he made, tears stinging my eyes as I hadn’t anticipated the intense panging below my stomach to radiate throughout my lower half. The room was eerily quiet apart from his grunts and curses he’d say under his breath.

Then, at some point, he lifted himself up from where he’d splayed atop me and he reached for the nightstand. I wondered if he was searching for a condom — everything felt so bare when he shoved himself into me. Instead of any protection he held up what looked to be a vintage Polaroid camera. His fingers unfurled and he pressed his palm against my cheek and whispered some words of encouragement before pressing down on the button. A flash blinded me. I grimaced and turned away. He forced me to look back up at him as he set the camera aside again.

When he finished all that I had left to immortalize it was a deep hollow made in my gut and a soreness between my legs. My vision was still bleary from the blinding flash of the camera. When I could focus on my surroundings again, he had lifted himself off of the bed and began pulling on his shirt and pants. Before I was able to reconcile with the disorienting shift in my emotions he’d asked me if I needed a ride home.

I shook my head. I may have felt weak and unraveled, but I didn’t want to leave my bike behind, nor did I really want to share any space with him alone again.

I biked all the way across Summerlin so I could get home. When I opened the door and snuck in through the kitchen, the time on the stove read 3:03 A.M. Somehow, it’d felt like longer. Exhausted but restless, I trudged upstairs and kicked off my shoes and entered my bathroom. I didn’t switch on the lights as I started the shower. I undressed in the dark. I didn’t want to face myself or see any of the damage inflicted upon me. 

I stepped underneath the hot water and let it consume me. 

PART III. PULP

I had deleted Rory’s number from my phone. He didn’t seem bothered, as I received no virtual or verbal complaint whenever I’d turn in my assignments at the end of class. Nor did he ever call on me, staunchly ignoring my very existence if it didn’t have to do with grading my work. I was still the best performer in his class. At the end of the semester he awarded me with a certificate, like the kind you’d receive in elementary school for participation or attendance, and told me to have a good summer. I felt the primal urge to beat him until his blood coated my fists and his face was unrecognizable. A puddle of bone and cartilage.

Not everything was so grim. Over Christmas, which I wasn’t certain we’d celebrate as we were missing Mom who was the only Christian (non-practicing, but still) in our household, Dad had surprised me by placing a large box in front of me after I’d opened the rest of my gifts. When I undid the ribbon and looked inside, a wide-eyed, bushy tailed sheepdog pup looked up at me like I’d hung the moon. I started crying. I didn’t stop. Dad came to console me, holding me against his chest as the puppy tumbled out of the box and joined us.

We named him Homer, because he looked wise and all-knowing underneath all his grey and white tufts and also because he ate the donuts that Dad had ordered the day before for Christmas breakfast.

On New Year’s, my Dungeons & Dragons party group chat lit up my phone with notifications about a small get together at Kira’s. She was our monk and also the first girl I had a devestatingly pathetic crush on when we met in the eighth grade. I told Dad I didn’t feel like going because I didn’t want to leave him alone, but he insisted I go since I’d spent the last few weeks locked up in our house. 

“See you next year, kiddo,” he said as he pressed a kiss atop my head.

Despite wanting to have a good time, I mostly felt spaced out — just like I had since Hanukkah. I felt like a spectator more than a participant in the festivities my friends had arranged for us; there was a wide variety of food available that I felt no inclination to eat, music blaring from the surround sound system Kira’s parents installed in the basement where we dwelled for our weekly campaigns, and warm conversation about their collective years. I just sipped on the cocktail Kira gave me and sat on the couch, occasionally pitching in when it’d been a while since I spoke. 

Eventually, Diego came to sit beside me. I offered him a halfhearted smile and nudged him. 

“Everything okay, Lyo?” Diego asked in a way that I know he wanted to sound innocent but was made painstakingly clear he was genuinely concerned. “You’re kinda quiet tonight.”

“... Long day, you know?” I chose to excuse. 

“Really? On New Year’s Eve?” he denied with a shake of his head. “You can be honest with me. I’m not gonna go telling everyone like Kira or Bo.”

I swallowed, unsure whether I should be honest or save him the trouble of having to try and mend the permanent wounds that were etched into my very being. “This year just sucked,” I said. “I wanna forget all about it.”

Diego’s lips pressed together into a thin line and he began nodding along. “Well. I get that,” he finally surrendered. “But you know we’ll always be here. Right? We’re a party.”

I forced a brighter smile. “Yeah,” I said quietly and clinked my cup against his.

When walking home after the clock struck midnight, not wanting Dad to wake up alone on New Year’s Day, I thought a lot about the past year of my life. I had lost everything; my family, my pride, my dignity, any hope of a semi-normal life going forward. I was stripped of my humanity and made to be a plaything. A porcelain doll with cracks where my red hot veins once resided under what used to be my living flesh. Maybe even worse — a ghost, whose words spoken could only be deciphered through the methodical sliding of a planchette across a board and whose presence had diminished from a bright spark to a softly flickering candle flame. I didn’t know who I had become. I certainly didn’t recognize who looked back at me in the mirror. My face was sunken in and devoid of color. I’d lose more weight, so all of my clothes hung off me like I was a stiff mannequin. I might as well have been. I had shown no real signs of life since that night at the motel.

Homer greeted me at the door. He was waiting for me. He was always waiting for someone. I suppose we all were; me, my Dad and this dog. 

I turned sixteen that February. I was gifted more presents than I anticipated from my friends; a new set of die from Bo, a silver ring in the shape of a star from Kira, and a copy of the Atlas Obscura from Diego with a note that read: FOR WHEN YOU WANT YOUR OWN ADVENTURE. 

Mom sent George with a card and a box of chocolates I hadn’t eaten or liked in years. I felt somewhat lucky that my brother was there, even if we didn’t always get along. It was nice knowing they hadn’t forgotten all about me. He picked up my birthday cake (strawberries and cream) and held up a disposable camera to take a snapshot of me blowing out the candles. I tried not to flinch when the flash went off.

George had gotten me a picture frame of our first day attending The Meadows. I was five and he was eleven, and despite the fact I knew he must have held some contempt for me even then he had an arm slung around my shoulders and he held me close to his side. We wore matching white polos and khakis, though we couldn’t have looked more different otherwise. Still, in the certain light we were captured in, I could see our eyes lit up the same kind of greenish-brown. 

Then, he handed me a photo of an ultra sound. I glanced up at him in confusion. He was smiling. I hardly ever saw him smile. 

“Rosie’s pregnant,” he announced. He sounded more happy than he ever had before, however I could still pick out the tremor in his voice. He must’ve been nervous as hell. “She’s due in September.”

Dad was overjoyed. So was I. I hadn’t expected Dad’s reaction to be so… Intense, though. He couldn’t stop crying. He hugged George so tight that he nearly turned purple. It was in that moment I knew that something was wrong. While Dad was naturally a very emotional being, there was a hint of sorrow in his expression when he pulled away and stroked his only son’s cheek, tear stains evident underneath his tired eyes. 

In bed that night I couldn’t find sleep. I tossed and turned underneath my blankets as I thought about Dad and George and even Mom. What had become of us all this past year? Mom was living in New York, the life she had always wanted yet couldn’t quite achieve entirely because there would always be a tether through George to Dad, and at the end of that tether was me, someone she couldn’t escape no matter how far she fled. Then there was George, a budding med student whose future had shifted drastically in an instant, all thanks to a bright pink line. And finally there was Dad, who was himself but not at the same time. Almost like an exaggerated iteration of himself; someone putting on a performance. It was unsettling, if I’m being honest. I wanted him to be happy because it had been so long since I’d seen a genuine spark in his eyes — but I’m not sure I wanted it to happen like this.

I scooted out of bed eventually and trodded halfway down the stairs before I heard muffled conversation. My eyebrows knitted together as I sunk onto the steps, resting my head against the railing as echoing voices chorused throughout the first floor. I could hear distress emitted from George’s lips, and a solemn silence was held for a couple beats before a sob broke out. I could hear it then: I’m sorry, I’m sorry, my baby boy, I’m so sorry. 

I knew it. I knew something was wrong. What had Dad done? 

I crept back up to my room. It felt intrusive to try and insert myself into their conversation and I didn’t want anyone pissed off at me. So I forced my eyes closed and willed for sleep to come, even if I had an endless cacophony of thoughts ringing in my head.

Morning light filtered in through my blinds, bleaching my walls and carpet a soft yellow. I grimaced as the sunbeams struck my eyes and I rubbed the last of sleep out of my vision before pushing myself up onto my elbows. The house was quiet. I wondered if I was the first awake, if my body didn’t let me sleep for as long as I wished it would’ve, but then I heard rummaging and I figured it was the sound of Dad helping George gather his things so he could depart to the airport.

I pulled a cardigan I’d tossed over my desk chair over my head and went to assess whatever damage had been wrought the night before. I braced myself for what was coming. My breath was stifled in my throat as I walked downstairs and glanced around for any sight of Dad or George. Eventually, I wandered into the living room and saw them both sat on the couch. Cups of steaming coffee were left untouched on the center table. 

“... Morning,” I spoke up.

“Lyo,” Dad assumed a smile as soon as he noticed me. It wasn’t his natural smile, though. There was a shadow of melancholy encompassing his expression. 

George glanced up at me. He looked thinned out. Defeated. More so than he usually did when he’d come home with pages upon pages of notes to study for school. Light didn’t reach his eyes and it made me feel sick.

“What’s wrong?” I immediately asked. I didn’t want to engage in small talk — if something bad had happened, I deserved to know without anything impeding it. 

Dad visibly swallowed and motioned for me to sit in the empty spot beside him. I eyed him and George warily as I walked ahead, advancing until I was seated between the two of them. As soon as I sat I could hear my brother inhale shakily. 

I can’t remember exactly what happened next. All I can recall is hearing Dad say I’m sick, and then take a breath before elaborating while my world spun out of orbit. Something about cancer. Renal cell, I later discovered. Eight months to live with treatment, give or take. As a result, I couldn’t stay in Summerlin. He couldn’t take care of me anymore. So George would. He and Rosalie, in their new rental in Avalon — I guess that’s where they’d been that whole time. I never cared enough to ask. 

I rejected the idea at first, of course. I wasn’t going to let my dad rot while I pretended I could live a normal life across the country. How could I? He had done everything for me. Maybe it was my turn to do the same for him. No, it was definitely my turn. I didn’t care how much I’d endured since Mom and George left. They left. And it was up to me to pick up the pieces of the life we had that they shattered with little remorse.

But then Dad was guiding me upstairs as I fought back and cried. George kept asking me the same questions about what I wanted to take with me and what I could stand to live without until Dad could pack it up properly and send it to New York. I didn’t answer; so he opened up my dresser drawers and tossed whatever he could into my suitcase. I hadn’t used it in years. It still had Hello Kitty stickers plastered on the shell.

I was forced out the front door still in my pajamas when the taxi pulled up to our driveway. I kept reaching out for Dad, expecting him to reach back, but he just watched from a distance as George forcibly placed me in the backseat and tossed my suitcase into the trunk. As the house I had grown up in shrunk in the distance, so did the image of my father, distorted by the waves of heat that encompassed the atmosphere.

I felt worse than I ever had. Worse than when I found out my own blood came from a stranger, or when my flesh was desecrated. I felt like I’d been ground to a pulp.

EPILOGUE

After enduring a hellish four months in Avalon, trying and failing miserably to integrate into the teenage social scene at my new public school, I received a phone call from my Uncle Remy. He was Dad’s older brother who had moved from Chicago to Summerlin so he could watch after him as he got sicker. And he did. He could hardly manage a conversation when I called. Normally the line went quiet and I assumed his drug cocktail had caught up to him and made him drowsy, so I always hung up first. At some point George told me it’d be easier if I gave him space — I almost rung his neck for even suggesting that. Rosalie was the mitigator in our household. I’m sure I would’ve been cast out onto the streets if it weren’t for her.

Uncle Remy said that Dad was deteriorating by the day and that we should all take time out of our schedules to visit. I gulped down the fear and the anger I felt forming in the base of my throat that made me want to cry out and I carried on the message to Mom and George. Of course, Mom made some excuse that Dad wouldn’t like to see her anyway. I tried my best to talk reason with her. He still loves you, I said. He loved the idea of me, Lyonet. He needs his real family. Not someone who pretended to be a part of it. she replied.

She thought she was being the bigger person. I knew she was a coward.

George made up an excuse as well. His daughter, my niece Maia, had been born a few weeks prior and med school was royally kicking his ass. He would try and catch one of the last flights out at the end of the year. Make a holiday of it for himself, the baby and Rosalie. He was being willfully ignorant. He knew that Dad wouldn’t survive until the winter. 

I boarded the plane by myself. I watched as we cut through the cloud cover and ascended high enough to where you could pick out faint speckles that were meant to be stars. If I were raised any differently, I’d had held out hope that if we lifted ourselves high enough we would somehow reach heaven — but I didn’t. No one in the faith I once shared with Dad postulated about fancy castles erected in gold and white or some eternal gathering of loved ones around a dinner table full of food and wine. It was about a oneness with God. I felt no such thing on earth, so I didn’t count on it for the afterlife, either.

Uncle Remy picked me up from the airport. We didn’t talk much because in reality we didn’t know each other very well. I could only pick out faint, bleary memories spent at a cabin in Illinois that my mémé and grand-père had bought when they first immigrated to the States, where he would toss me over his shoulder and sprint down the boardwalk before launching me into the stifling cold lake. 

He didn’t seem as lively now. Then again, I doubt I did either. 

My house didn’t feel like my house when we arrived. I stepped in through the front door for the first time and months and everything felt changed. I was brought up to my old bedroom first since Uncle Remy said Dad was still asleep. When I entered I could feel my stomach bottom out. Old posters still hung crookedly on the pink painted walls and my shaggy rug I got for my eleventh birthday was splayed out underneath an empty desk and chair. There was even a small family of stuffed animals that resided on newly installed shelves.

I sat on the edge of my old bed and put my head in my hands. How was this happening? What had become of my life? I lost everything and I was only sixteen. 

Half an hour later Uncle Remy knocked on my door and told me that he’d woken up. It was like I was moving through a pool with how slow each movement I made was, wading endlessly through a vast body of water that could’ve sunk me at any given moment. I eventually made it across the hall to where the master bedroom was. I could hear the soft humming of medical equipment and canned laughter emanating from the TV. When I opened the door, I saw Dad in bed, but it didn’t look like him, not really.

He was deathly pale. There was no more glow in his skin and no light reached his eyes. The beard he had prided himself on growing out for the first time in his life had been shaven, so his face was clean but it didn’t make him look any more like himself. His chest lifted and fell in uneven pants as he tried to catch his breath. It felt wrong looking at him. There was no dignity in this kind of death.

“Lyo?” Dad rasped out. A weak smile twitched in the corner of his mouth and tears began accumulating on my waterline as I saw him. “C’mere, my wild girl.”

I walked across the room obediently and went to sit at his side. “... Hi,” I said, the word strained.

“Good to see you,” he replied — I could tell it took half his energy just to conjure up a sentence when at one point in time you could never get him to stop talking.

“You too,” I returned. I forced a smile. I had no other choice, even if it was evident I was on the brink of falling apart.

Dad lifted his hand up and wiped away the stray tears that escaped. “So grown up,” he noted. There was a sense of awe in his words, like he hadn’t watched me grow from the time I was left on his doorstep. “Just like your mother, I think.”

“... Yeah?” I said as my eyebrows pinched together. I didn’t know what to think of that assessment, as I never knew her. I hadn’t even seen a picture of her. I wasn’t sure Dad had one, anyway. She was an elusive creature from what I had heard. 

“Always have been,” he hummed. “I… I wanted to tell you about her. Before. But… I didn’t know how.”

I shook my head at this. “You don’t have to say anything,” I assured him. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It matters,” he insisted, pressing his lips into a frown. “You deserved answers. You deserved more.”

“So did you,” I returned as I leaned my cheek into his open palm. A saddened smile pulled on the corner of my mouth while we gazed at each other, drinking one another in for what I knew in my blood and in my bones would be the last time. 

Dad stroked my cheek gently. Always gentle, always kind. Always an angel, never a God. “I got everything I wanted.” he said, and he sounded very decided on that matter, so I didn’t argue.

We sat in silence for a while. I couldn’t resist reflecting on my life in Summerlin that was coming to a close. With Dad gone, I would have no reason to be there anymore. All of my friends were planning on spreading out across the country to attend different schools and soon enough we’d fall out of contact and never see each other again. No other family lived there. What I had left would be returned to ashes and dust. 

As Dad began waning in and out of consciousness, he mustered up the strength to ask me one last thing. “Sing,” he said, losing his breath after.

I swallowed and nodded, looking down at our touching hands as I beckoned the words out of my throat.

She wore faded jeans and soft black leather She had eyes so blue they looked like weather When she needed me I wasn't around That's the way it goes, it'll all work out There were times apart and times together I was pledged to her for worse or better When it mattered most I let her down That's the way it goes, it'll all work out It'll all work out eventually Better off with Him than here with me Now the wind is high and the rain is heavy The water's rising in the levee Still I think of her when the sun goes down Never goes away, but it all works out.

He died two days after I left. 

Rosalie told me to go to homecoming after the funeral, which was a horrid affair I’d rather not detail. I wanted to scream at her: I don’t want to dance and make friends. I want to be in the ground. I want to be dead. But I knew she’d just tell my psychiatrist what I said, and I was convinced in my rampant paranoia he was out to get me, so I stayed quiet and let her dress me up in her old sheer red dress she never got to wear to prom and decorate me in a thin layer of makeup so I wasn’t too overwhelmed.

The dance sucked. I never attended homecoming or any other school sanctioned events at The Meadows, always forfeiting them in place of a Dungeons & Dragons session at Kira’s. Somehow I got caught up in a crowd that shuttled me to an afterparty. I knew I didn’t have much of a choice in going; Rosalie would be worried if I came home too soon. 

So I drank the bad Kool-Aid cocktail made in a punch bowl and swayed my hips to the music that blared overhead. It wasn’t until a taller, broad-shouldered male approached me that I felt dwarfed for the first time since — well, since Rory, who had never even attempted to contact me after the whole town found out about Dad’s cancer and subsequent passing.

He spoke at me with alcohol laced breath and I endured it because I didn’t know any better. Even though I felt a deep urge to knee him in the dick and escape, I let him say whatever he wanted and think I was impressed, which apparently was an easy feat, as soon enough his hands were on my hips and we were dancing together and I was a bit too tipsy to care what happened next.

I half-expected for him to escort me upstairs or even shove me in a bathroom and take me there, but just as he began hitching up my dress I could feel it. The pills I’d taken from the clique of stoners I befriended at the dance had caught up to me and were beginning to trigger the first seizure I’d had in years. I slid out from underneath the stranger’s grip and he started loudly complaining, but I was lucky enough that he didn’t feel the need to trail after me.

I stumbled through the crowds and then the kitchen, the harsh overhead lights momentarily blinding me before I located a closet and tripped inside, praying for some sort of relief. It didn’t last for long, because someone began knocking on the door as soon as it was closed.

“You alive?” the person asked.

“Yes!” I returned, wanting them gone just so I could wither away in peace. “Just — fuck off!”

The door opened then and as I looked up at the person I could feel the size of my heart increase by tenfold. My whole body was lit aflame. I had never felt anything like it.

I could remember striking up a small conversation with him before I lost consciousness, but my final thought had been how, for the first time since Dad and I were left on our own, I could hear a symphony.

there's a world outside my doorstep flames over everyone's heart don't you see them shining? i want to hear them beating for me i think i hear them waves crashing me by.

[nocrumbsonmyjewellery]

thinking about objects for nostalgic adornment.

i was getting caught. i grew excited about the knife, the seedpod and the fossil, their connections in my mind and visually, their place in the world, then realising they had little technical relation to my idea. i was feeling stuck in my original idea that these objects must be those found at a beach, collected and pocketed on a rainy day. but, the whole point of design is that it evolves, and if i'm excited about this avenue it ought to be explored.

the above objects were gathered from around my home, where they've sat since they were given, made or came home, in pocket or hand. each one has importance to me, though it is only i who could see that. i thought i might write a little description for them, one by one.

the knife brooch - one of my mums keepsakes from her and my dads time abroad. when they were in their mid twenties, after saving for years, they sold nearly everything they had and took off traveling for as long as they could. as long as they could, turned out to be about two and a half years, living off a frugal ten pound a day with any excess going towards a box of wine at the end of the week, or trinkets, like this one.

bridesmaid necklace - my parents married after 14 years together when i was 10 months old. as freshly emigrated englishman they got married at a local beach, of course, on new years eve (dad says this is so he could always remember the date, to keep him out of trouble on anniversaries). the blooming pohutukawa trees matched the red of mums wedding dress, handmade by grandma, and my dads button up, bought from farmers, most likely. i remember nothing of the day, having been only 10 months old, but the photos live on as memories, as well as the carved shell necklace i wore as a bridesmaid, along my two older cousins. a talisman of a special day.

purple shell - this is one of the first shells i can remember being fascinated by as a child. anytime we visited bethels growing up, my pockets came home with a good few of these and ramshorn shells. (really they're the vertèbre of a type of squid, so not shells at all, but lovely all the same) they have decorated my room for many a year.

hagstone - this one's story has already been told.

citrine crystal - i believe i got this from a sandbag at crystal mountain. i was attached to it from the get go, and carried it around with me for the rest of the day. family was over from the uk, so we were out seeing the sights. after a visiting par homestead, we were pulling out from the carpark when i realized i didn't have it. dad begrudgingly allowed me to run back inside and look for it, luckily it was waiting were i left it. i've not lost it since.

fossil - i have always collected rocks, stones and shells, as you can likely tell by now, but i went through a short faze of fossil love too. this was bought from a side of the road market, sold by a couple of rock hounds making their way around australia. they were a fascinating pair, and gained a good chunk of my pocket money that day.

geode - one christmas, dad bought me a few geode rocks. together we smashed them open with a hammer, to find what sort of crystal made have been hiding within. i still love them.

baby's breath - mum bought this for me to wear in my hair at my first school ball. there ended up being a power cut part way through the evening when i and near everyone else from our school was getting ready, to everybody’s horror and amusement. believe it or not getting ready in the dark was a lot harder, and I forgot a few things, this being one of them. so i didn't end up wearing it that year, but it has sat dried in a jar as a memento either way. it would have matched the flowers in the corsage bought by ethan, who i went to ball with a year or so before we got together. he had asked, and i'd said yes, under the promise that it was only as friends. he obviously didn't pay any attention. i'm glad of that now.

ring - this is the first ring i ever made for my partner, given on our first anniversary. i had been in uni for maybe a month, which is very much reflected in its craftsmanship. alas, he loved it all the same, at the time it was one of my most advanced pieces. it marks a beginning in many senses.

a lucky life, really.

[newswritermel]

First Friends Matter

The first friend you make in life sets the tone for all other relationships. At least I believe that. I am fortunate that my first friend was wonderful. Her name was KayKay. KayKay was a year or two older than me. She lived next door to us in Montgomery, Alabama. Our neighborhood includes a row of what was called VA homes because they were bought by GIs who got government benefits for their service. The homes were highly affordable to these men, most who fought in World War 2, and who were now starting families as part of the baby boom. From what I remember, KayKay was a general's daughter. I don't remember her parents although I remember liking them very much. I suppose KayKay was likely the first child I met because there are pictures of me as a baby with her next to me. She and I were different personalities. KayKay did stuff for no reason at all other than she could. She had no substantial fear and created whatever she thought of. I was always more cautious. My dad said I was born nervous. I liked to color within the lines, made sure my work was perfect and wasn't as apt to try things that posed a significant risk of failure. Unless I was with KayKay. There was a metal, chain-linked fence that separated our yards. The entries were at the front of the fence facing the street so there was no good way to move back and forth between yards without getting permission from parents to leave the backyard and go down the other driveway. KayKay figured out that we weren't technically leaving our assigned spaces if we climbed over the fence. She did it readily and encouraged me to do it two. I was probably three and wasn't so sure about this idea. "Come on," she said from her yard. Her blonde hair blew in the summer breeze, getting into her face. She brushed it out of the way. "I did it. It's not hard. Just put your feet in the holes and climb." I finally relented and climbed the fence, even managing to get over the scary top that was a full four feet off the ground. I was in her yard. My fear of getting into trouble quickly waned as she showed me her hideaway that she created in a group of bushes. It was kind of like a cave but with greenery. We sat in there and talked and then she decided we needed a snack. I'm sure that her mother already had seen us and called my mother because Mama wasn't out looking for me. She never let me out of her sight. Snacks and drinks came and we talked about castles, princes, dogs, and cats. It was quite the conversation. Eventually, Mama came out a called and it was time to go. Surprisingly, she wasn't upset to see me climb over the fence to return to our yard. She was rather proud. "You're becoming a big girl, aren't you," she said as I trotted to her. She hollered at KayKay to tell her thanks for looking after me. "You're welcome," KayKay shouted back as she headed inside her home. The friendship with KayKay lasted a year or so before I was told she and her family were moving. I wasn't sad but I didn't really understand what moving meant. I was told she would come back to visit or there would be phone calls. Phone calls came and went. Then, they stopped. She never came back. I don't know where she is now or how her life turned out but I will always remember her kindness to the little cautious kid next door. In my mind, she will always be my first best friend, the first one to accept me, and the first one to get me to try something new. For that, I am grateful.

[adri-2022]

Saving Him

Fandom: Chicago PD

Characters: Jay Halstead x FemReader / Kelly Severide / Matt Casey / Will Halstead/ Silvie Brett / Couple OC

Warnings: Swearing / angst/ mention of drowning

Word count: 1973

Jay Halstead Materlist

A/N: Hey there my beautiful people. Here is another original imagine. Hope everyone likes it. Sending love 💕

Don’t be afraid to leave your comment!

—————

It was a late night for you and your boyfriend. You had been dating for almost a year now and tonight was going to change your life, but was it for the better or for worse? You were both currently leaving your dinner date when you felt Jay stop you as you reached a small garden, light up by some dangling lights. Confused you turn around to look at him, but you were left speechless. Right there in front of you kneeling with a velvet little box in hand. Your hands instantly went to your mouth and your eyes teared up. He was looking at you with so much love it made your heart want to burst.

“Is this real?” you asked above a whisper afraid that if you talked loudly it would disappear. A lot of things tended to disappear from your life so to say you were afraid was underestimating it. Jay chuckled giving you a nervous smile.

“As real as it can be-” “Wait! Oh my god!” you cut him off squealing which only made him laugh a little while looking lovingly your way.

“Can I keep going?” he said in between chuckles, you nodding. This making him grab your hand and reach it up to give it a sweet kiss. Before taking a deep breath,

“Y/N. I knew since the moment I met you, when you crashed your car into mine, that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. You make my days so much brighter; you are the best thing that could’ve happen to my shitty life. I don’t know -no, I don’t want to ever know what my life would be without you in it, I wouldn’t have a purpose, plain and simple…” you both chuckled at the memory of your first meeting, that was a good day.

“…I’m so fucking nervous. Alright here it goes, Y/N Y/L/N would you marry me?” Jay finally asked giving you that sweet smile that had you falling in love every day. With happy tears in your eyes and a smile that matched his, you kneeled down in front of him and sealed your answer with a kiss.

“Yes…” you whispered, eyes closed and foreheads resting together.

After that beautiful moment, you both climbed in his truck and started your journey towards Molly’s where apparently all of your friends would be waiting to celebrate the news. The whole drive you had been stealing glances, smiles and sweet kisses at each other. As you were about to cross a bridge you were pulled from your thoughts by a car’s horn and a force hitting Jay’s truck. You must’ve hit your head because after that darkness consumed you.

Coming back from your ballet recital, just a little girl not older than 7 years old was in the back sit sharing laughs with her parents. You had done a beautiful job with your technics, so much that your father bought you your favorite ice cream. You were the light of their eyes, you were their only child and it showed, never missing a ballet practice or recital. As you were crossing a light a horn was heard before your dads car flipped causing it to crash into the water.

“Richard!” your mother called for your father shaking him slightly,

“It’s alright baby. We’re okay” your mom said to you while your dad regained his consciousness.  

“I’m okay, Lili. Are you guys alright? Y/N baby are you alright?” he asked looking into the back sit where you were frighten, eyes wide.

Water had started to come into the car, it would be a matter of minutes until you would all drown. You hadn’t learned how to swim yet, that being the next activity that weekend.

“Daddy I’m scared” you cried to your father who extended his arm for you to take his hand, giving  you a sense of security only he could conquer. He told everything would be alright, but destiny had other plans for all of you.

“Y/N hon. Come sit on mommy’s lap -yeah careful” your mom said, to which made your dad help you climb trough the space between their sits.  

By now water was reaching high levels, the car almost filled to the very top, you were in your moms lap while she tried keeping you above the surface, water reaching your neck’s. Tapping sound interrupted your dad before he had the chance to calm you again, in the window it could barely be seen a man wearing a fireman uniform, help was here you all would be okay.

“Take her first! Take my daughter!- Lili pass Y/N to me” your mother didn’t waste a second to do as told, you were crying your little eyes out, trying to cling onto her.

“Daddy, I don’t want to leave you!” “You’re not honey. We will be out in a minute” your mom interjected in the conversation.

“Take a deep breath hon. He’s going to break the window and it’s going to be scary. But I need you to hang on to him until you get to the surface. Do you understand?” you father told you hand on your cheek and a stern yet loving look on his face while giving you instructions. You couldn’t do anything else than nod,

“We love you sweetie” your mom smiled at you. Unknown to you her legs were trapped, and your dad, well he’s seatbelt was jammed. They both knew they weren’t going to make it, so as parents they chose to save you first. That was the last time you saw, spoke or felt them.

Jay was the first one to wake up, blood dripping from his forehead and confused. Looking around him, his eyes widen as he caught sight of water surrounding them, some of it getting inside the truck. Then he remembered he wasn’t alone, turning to his right there he saw you unconscious,

“Y/N! Honey wake up” he shook you lightly succeeding at waking you up. Same as him you were confused as of your whereabouts,

“I’m okay Jay. Where- what’s going on?” you asked sitting straighter when you noticed the darkness that surrounded you, it took you a minute to figure it out, eyes going wide as your breathing picked up.

“Hey- hey. Y/N baby you’re alright. We’re okay” Jay tried calming you down,

“No, no, no…” you started to whisper trying to move around, panicking.

“Look at me. We’re okay- that’s it deep breaths” he said hand on the back of your neck as he looked around trying to orientate himself

“Jay…” you cried out, making his gaze fall back into you, his eyes frantically looking you over,

“Babe what is-” “I’m stuck. My- my legs are stuck” you said now hyperventilating, you were having serious deja vu. Jay put both hands on your face, eyes locking with yours in an attempt to try and break your mind off of the situation.

“Deep breaths beautiful. We’re okay” you knew Jay was trying his best to not panic as well, but you were only humans.

“My parents died like this. I don’t want to die Jay” tears dripping down your face,

“I’m getting us out of here I promise” he whispered, his hands still on your face inches away, your hands clinging onto his wrists.

You didn’t know how much time had passed, but the only thing you were aware of was the fact that water was coming in at a fast pace. Jay was still trying to cut his seatbelt so he could move around the truck in search of an exit, but so far you were both stuck. -ain’t it funny, how life made a joke out of me- you thought.

“Jay I’m scared…” hand reaching for his, him doing the same, hands interwind together, him pulling yours to his lips. The water was as cold as it could get and you were sure you would both drown like your parents or freeze, or quite frankly both.  

“Fuck” he muttered leaning his head back in the head rest, water was coming up to your necks you knew history was repeating itself. Just then you remembered something, digging in your purse before it was late you pulled a small blade out of it. Not wasting a second to reach over and cut Jay free, his head snapped towards you as he registered the movement.

“Go!” you started to push him, making his eyes go wide. He knew what was going through your mind, so he started shaking his head.

“No. No. Hell fucking no! I’m not leaving you” he started to argue with you. Grabbing your pushing hands in his, you just shook your head at him tears in your eyes, while he shook his head pained expression on his face.

“Jay please…” while you reached to cup his face foreheads together, while he shook his head sniffing, arms in your waist,

“I’m not leaving. You can’t make me” “I love you so much handsome” you smiled teary at him, kissing him like it was the last time. Because maybe it was, and unknown to your fiancé you had seen flashlights outside of the truck. Meaning one of you would survive and you would bet your life on it being Jay. Just as you barely pull apart from the kiss Jay’s window broke water filling every bit of air remaining inside the car. He felt as a hand dragged him out of the car while he tried with all of his strength to reach you, while you closed your eyes not being able to look at him. Reaching the surface Jay took a gulp of air before fighting whoever dragged him out, being faced with Matt Casey who pulled him to shore being met with Will and Silvie.

“Get the hell off me! Why did you do that? I have to go back. I need to get her out!” he screamed tears streaming in his face mixed with water and still trying to fight out of Casey’s grasp. Freezing when Kelly resurface a limp body on his arms, your limp body.

“No! Please, please” Jay cried, while trying to reach towards your limped body. Kelly passed you to Silvie, who immediately switched onto her paramedic persona. She started doing CPR while Jay kneeled beside you, face buried in your neck while he cried for you to wake up.

“Wake up baby, please” his voice breaking with every word. Silvie now switching with Will, looked at your pale face trying to hold her sobs.

“C’mon Y/N. Don’t do this sis! You have to wake up! C’mon!” Will said while still doing chest compressions.

Jay didn’t know how long he kept going, but he was pulled out of his thoughts when the movement stopped, making him look up at his brother’s broken and defeated expression. A raw sob broke out of Jay, while he kept looking at your pale face caressing you cheeks, he shook his head taking a deep breath. He wasn’t ready to let go yet.

“No. You’re not going anywhere” he stated before starting CPR again. Ignoring the calls of his brother and friends, his look pined on your face. You had to wake up, you didn’t get to be selfless and just give up.

“C’mon goddamit! Y/N. You can’t do this!”

“Jay-” Will started,

“No! Shut up. She doesn’t get to do this. WAKE UP!” he screamed, just then a gasp filled the air followed by a cough fit. Jay smiled relieved helping you get on your side so the water could be expelled faster, caressing your back and head. Smiles were on everyone’s faces as they sighed in relief. The only thing filling the air was the sirens approaching the scene of the accident, while Silvie wrapped blankets around the both of you.

[sinner-as-saint]

I Did Something Bad - 1.

Bodyguard!Stucky x Reader AU

Part 2 <<

Run-through: You’re a rich spoilt brat, and your two bodyguards are the ones who have to put up with you and your attitude all day every day. Until one day, they’ve had about enough. And they decide to tame the brat in you…

Themes: bratty!reader, smut, daddy kink, bodyguard!stucky

“What a brat.” Steve mumbled under his breath.

“I agree.” Bucky sent a brief nod towards him.

They were both right behind you, each holding your countless shopping bags as they walked the steps which led to the front door of your house.

Correction, your father’s house. You didn’t actually own anything, you were just blessed enough to have been born in a filthy rich family. And you were an only child, so your parents treated you like you were the most precious thing in the world. You were spoilt.

Spoilt like Steve and Bucky had never seen before. You had people to do everything for you. You didn’t even do your own make up or hair in the morning; you had an entire team for that.

Your parents were away most of the time, on business trips and earning more money so you could be even more of a spoilt brat. Given they were away, they had two of the most highly trained, professional bodyguards stay with you to ensure your safety – Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes.

The two were the best of friends, and initially they didn’t even want to put up with you. But the paychecks which came from your father each month were hefty. So they compromised; put up with your annoying, bratty self just for the salary.

There were other perks of the job. They got to stay in a lavish mansion, they got to travel everywhere, enjoy the finest things in life, along with you.

 “Uh, can one of you guys come help me?” came the sound of your voice from inside your bedroom. The two men who were outside your bedroom groaned quietly.

They shared a look and opened the door to your grand bedroom and stepped in. They always envied you, and all the nice things you had without even having work a day in your life. They both looked around, looking for you in the spacious bedroom.

You stepped out of the walk-in closet wearing a black, lace bodysuit – showing off your cleavage and your legs.

The two men’s eyes almost fell out of their sockets.

Oh another perk to the job, you were smoking hot. And that almost made up for your attitude that they had to put up with at times, because who wouldn’t like a doll parading around them all the time?  

You walked up till you stood in front of them, nonchalantly checking out the new rings and jewelry you had on, which you had bought earlier. Not caring about the fact that you were semi-naked in front of the two.

“Can one of you zip me up?” you spoke, without looking up.

And it took both of them a few seconds to process everything. They shared a look again, filthy things on both their minds.

“I’ll do it.” Steve spoke up before Bucky could even open his mouth and offer to help. The latter glared at his friend. Steve walked up behind you, and gently pushed all your hair out of the way and shifting it over your shoulder while he shamelessly let his eyes roam over your semi-exposed body.

He took his sweet time to find the zipper and closing it gently, letting his fingertips lightly caress your skin. He admired the shape of your body once he was done, Bucky did the same. You walked away from Steve, not even thanking him and went on to admire yourself in the mirror.

The two men couldn’t take their eyes off you as you posed in front of the mirror, checking yourself out and clicking pictures here and there.

“I want a green smoothie.” You said, to no one in particular. But neither of them heard because they were busy checking you out. And seeing they weren’t moving you turned around and faced them. “Hello? I said I want green smoothie.” You said, as usual, in that bratty voice of yours. You had absolutely no patience, you were a total brat.

But that didn’t matter right now. Not when you looked like that; beautiful and enticing, but so out of their league.

Bucky cleared his throat and peeled his eyes off you. “Steve will get it. Someone has to stay here with you.” He made the decision without even sparing Steve a look.

And poor Steve had to agree and leave the room. While Bucky stayed in your room and enjoyed the show as you tried on all the clothes and lingerie you bought earlier today.

 You caught Bucky staring at you through the mirror and you internally smirked. You considered yourself lucky that the two bodyguards your dad had appointed were both eye candy. All your friends drooled over both of them; you included.

How could you not? They were always so… hot. Black suits, dark sunglasses whenever you were out, broody and handsome; they could make any one’s heart flutter. You knew how the brat in you annoyed them, but you couldn’t help it. You liked the look on their faces when they realize that they can’t do otherwise but obey you.

 Steve returned with your smoothie and you took it, again without thanking him. He noticed you were in another bodysuit, nude colored this time and much more flimsy. He discretely sent a questioning look towards Bucky and the latter smirked and raised his eyebrow at him. As if boasting and saying, ‘yup, I helped her with that one.’

 “I’m going to the club later tonight.” You announced and the two men almost groaned out loud.

You were a true party animal. And Steve and Bucky hated your useless, equally as spoilt, friends. Each time you went clubbing, they always had to carry you home because you cannot handle alcohol for too long. And the worst part, they’d have to deal with your hungover self the next day.

Steve couldn’t help but point out. “This is the fifth time in the past three weeks. Are you sure you should be partying so much?” he sounded like he was done with you, but was still trying to be polite because you were still his boss’ daughter.

Bucky nodded, agreeing with his friend. And you frowned at both of them.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but do I pay you to lecture me?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest, your action accentuating your breasts.

Steve looked down at the ground, afraid he might have been staring at your chest for too long. “No ma’am.” He replied, hands in front of him – standing in a classic bodyguard pose.

You scoffed, giving them both a look which told them not to mess with you. “Good. We leave at ten thirty.” You announced and walked back into your walk-in closet.

 -

As predicted, you were wasted within the first three hours of being at the club. And just like always, Steve and Bucky had to carry you out and bring you home.

Luckily you didn’t throw up on the sidewalk or in the car this time. Your driver drove all of you home, and Bucky had you on his lap in the backseat, your feet on Steve’s lap. You were blacked out.

“She looks so angelic when she sleeps.” Steve commented, quietly.

Bucky chuckled. “Wait till she wakes up tomorrow and makes everyone’s life a living hell.” Bucky said, remembering the last time you were hungover and how you had him, Steve, your housekeeper, maids and chefs, all run around like headless chickens.

Steve chuckled at the same memory. “I swear if she treats us as her slaves like last time, I’m gonna quit.”

Bucky sent a look towards his friend. “Please don’t, I can’t handle her on my own.” He pretended to shiver at the thought of him having to put up with your antics all on his own.

And the two men shared a laugh.

 They put you to bed once you all made it home. They placed you under the covers, the maid took off your shoes and most of your jewelry, took out the pins in your hair and turned the lights off before they stepped out of your room.

---

The next day, the minute they each woke up in their rooms, they heard your loud voice coming from upstairs. And they both groaned as they got ready for the day.

Steve was out of his room and on his way to you first. Bucky came shortly after. And they found you in bed, whining about having a terrible headache.

“Do you need painkillers?” Bucky asked and you glared at him.

“I already took them.” you spat at him.

Clearly you were going to be even more of a bitch today.

“Did you have breakfast?” Steve asked, standing at the end of your bed.

You groaned.

“The thought of food makes me want to throw up.” You whined, testing his patience already.

Steve sighed. “Look, you need to eat. It’s the only way you’ll get rid of the hangover-,”

You cut him off.

“Ugh, okay mom!” you mocked. “Fine, whatever, just get out.” You said rather rudely. And while Steve was still debating what to say to you, Bucky spoke up.

He stepped up closer to you, standing by the side of your bed. “Hey, easy. We’re just trying to help. You need to eat so y-,”

You cut him off as well. “Like I said before, I don’t pay you to lecture me, why do you even-,” you were going off but this time Steve cut you off.

“Enough!” he raised his voice, and both you and Bucky turned to look at him. He had never acted like this before. You could see the irritation on his face as he stared at you.

“You don’t pay us, first of all, your father does! You don’t do anything other than sit there and be a brat and spend his money! We technically don’t work for you, we work for him. So let us do our jobs, which is to take care of his spoilt daughter who has no manners whatsoever. His daughter who treats people like slaves! People who actually care about her more than her own parents do!” He spat, making your jaw drop.

He continued, less loudly this time. “For once, drop your attitude and do as we say. Get in the shower, and then come downstairs. Breakfast will be ready by then.” He looked at you dead in the eyes while he scolded you. “Move, now!” the authority in his voice had you scram out of bed and rush into the bathroom immediately.

Once you shut the bathroom door behind you, Bucky turned to Steve and extended his arm so they could do their secret handshake.

“What was that?” he asked, clearly impressed.

Steve smirked. “Just taming the brat.” He answered.

Bucky laughed. “What if she tells her dad and gets us both fired?” he asked.

Steve knew you would never tell your dad because you would be somewhat ashamed in saying you got blacked out drunk at the club and then were rude to people afterwards. “She won’t.” he said and they both made their way out and into the kitchen.

 Breakfast was ready by the time you came downstairs, rather sheepishly. You kept your eyes to the ground as you sat at the kitchen island. Surprisingly, you waited patiently for your breakfast.

Bucky took the plate and placed it in front of you. Baked beans, hash browns, eggs, toast – not your usual breakfast because you normally had sugary cereal in the morning.

You sighed rather loudly, frowned and began complaining, “But this is n-,”

Bucky cut you off by grabbing your chin gently and tilting your head up so you looked up at him. He didn’t even think twice before touching your face, but you didn’t mind it. At all.

You looked up into his ocean blue eyes, very similar to Steve’s.

“A big breakfast will help, trust me. And it’s better than that bowl of sugar you’re used to.” He said, cracking a faint smile. You shyly returned him a smile. “Eat.” He pointed at the plate and went to find Steve in the living room.

 -

You were pretty quiet for the rest of the morning. Quiet as in, you weren’t throwing a fit when the meal that the chef made for you wasn’t what you wanted. Or you weren’t whining about how you hate everyone in this house. Or you weren’t being a bitch to absolutely everyone you saw because you were hungover.

You spent most of the day in your room, sulking. Mainly because you weren’t used to people talking in loud voices at you. Steve and Bucky came to check up on you a few times, asked you if there’s anywhere you need to go. But you said no each time. You barely spoke to them, at least you weren’t rude.

 You were tame – but it didn’t last for long.

-

The next day, you were back to being a brat. Once the hangover passed, you were just as loud and rude as before. You were even rude to Bucky – all your manners from the previous day forgotten – when he came to ask you what you wanted for breakfast.

“Is there a way to ever get a straight answer out of you for once, without you being sarcastic and bratty all the time?” he asked, wishing you were back to yesterday when you were all quiet and obedient.

You scoffed and got out of bed. “You or Steve yell at me one more time, and I will call dad and have both of you fired. You hear me?” you spat at him.

And he wanted to tell you off, like Steve did, but then he took one look at your appearance. Messy hair, your reading glasses on, an oversized white shirt – no pants. You looked too adorable to scold. So he let you go.

 You tested Steve’s patience too that day. As usual, people ran your errands and Steve brought you something that you had asked for and you took it without thanking him.

“Will a ‘thank you’ hurt?” he asked.

You glared at him.

“Stop it. You’re not my mom.” You said bitterly and he groaned and walked away.

-

This had been their daily lives for the past year and a half. And each day they thought there was no way you could out do yourself and be any more of a brat. Yet, each day you kept surprising them with how annoying you could be to deal with.

Then one day, you truly out did yourself.

You were nowhere to be found.

 “This is it, I’m calling her dad.” Steve took out his phone but Bucky stopped him.

“She’s our responsibility, calling her dad would be equivalent to digging our own graves. Don’t.” Bucky reasoned. He couldn’t even imagine calling a parent to tell them their child has gone missing.

They were both panicking. You had snuck out earlier in the afternoon, and it was now nighttime and you still weren’t back. The two were pacing around the living room.

“I don’t get it, usually she tells us before even going outside in the yard.” Bucky was trying to figure out what must’ve gone wrong.

Steve sighed, ready to punch something out of frustration. “She acts like such a child sometimes. Can’t even track her phone because she left it here.” He shook his head.

“It’s nearly midnight Steve, she should be back by now. We need to do something. Did you get anything from the camera footage?” Bucky was worried sick – both about your safety and his job.

Steve swore under his breath. “Nothing on there. I mean we don’t even know if she went out on her own or got kidnapped or some-,”

A voice cut him off.

“Chill moms, I’m fine.” You walked into the living room with a smirk on. And the two men looked at you like they were witnessing some miracle. Bucky was relieved, yet somewhat irritated. Steve was just angry.

“Where the hell have you been? You were missing for 8 hours!” Bucky asked, the smug look on your face was beginning to piss him off.

You didn’t bother answering, you walked right past them and into the kitchen. The two, now irritated, followed you.

“Answer, god damn it! Where have you been? We were worried sick!” Steve hissed.

You took a water bottle out of the fridge and took a long sip while looking at them both with nothing but cockiness in your eyes.

“Well good news, I was so annoying and bratty that the kidnappers dropped me right back home.” You fake smiled, obviously being sarcastic and walked out of the kitchen. You heard the two groaned as you left them in the kitchen.

 You rushed upstairs and went right into your bedroom, and not even a few seconds later – they both walked into your room very angrily and without even bothering to knock first.

You sighed. “Get out. I’m tired, I need to sleep.” You spoke, without looking up at them.

“I don’t think so. Now answer me, where the fuck have you been?” Bucky asked, clearly mad.

You chuckled. “Watch your tone with me.” You sassed.

Steve stepped forward and walked right up to you. He stood closer to you than usual, invading your personal space. But you didn’t mind it one bit.

“Or what, huh?” he asked, sliding his hand into your hair gently, tugging on it a little making your head tilt back so you looked up at him.

You were speechless as you looked up into his ocean blue eyes. Mainly because you weren’t expecting this, but also because the look on his face sent a tingle dancing down your spine, and ended right at your core. Definitely not a bad tingle.

When you recovered, you were about to lift your hand up and slap his hand away from you but then you realized that Bucky was behind you, locking your wrists in his grip behind your back.

“Let’s try that again, sweetheart. Where have you been?” Bucky whispered in your ear, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear and making you shiver.

You looked up at Steve, immobilized and not hating it. “I… I was out with my girlfriends.” You confessed and almost whimpered when bucky tightened his grip around your wrists.

“And what did we say about sneaking out, or going anywhere without informing us?” Steve asked. You believed it might have been your imagination, but it felt as though he leaned in a little, bringing his face closer to yours.

It took you a few seconds to process given the proximity of the two men was interrupting your ability to think straight. “You… you said it was against the rules.” You remember that long talk you had with both of them the day they joined. When they took the time to explain the rules to you but all you did was roll your eyes at them and sigh.

Bucky chuckled darkly right in your ear. “Seems you have broken an important rule, sweetheart.” He gently kissed the skin beneath your ear and your eyes flew shut. Your lips parted as you tried hard not to moan at the feeling of his soft lips against your skin.

When you opened your eyes, you found Steve smirking down at you. He felt a rush course through him and leaned in to gently take your lower lip between his teeth; tugging on it playfully. His actions were gentle, but you shivered still. Steve bit down on your lip, while Bucky discretely kissed down your neck.

Then and there, something shifted in the air. It was a pleasant shift.

Steve chuckled against your mouth. “You never learn, babygirl.” he mumbled, against the side of your mouth. And the nickname had you almost whimpering.

Bucky softly nibbled on your skin at your shoulder; making you shudder. Steve tugged a little more on your hair and pulled away to look at you. If there’s anything you knew for sure in that moment, is that you wanted them. Both of them. Bad.

“Teach me then.” You whispered. And both of them smirked and shared a look.

If only you had been careful about what you wished for…

 You were kneeling on your bed, naked and with Bucky still holding your wrists behind your back. His grip was tight and strong, but you didn’t complain. You couldn’t because Steve had his two fingers gently pumping in and out of your mouth.

He had searched your bedside table a few minutes ago, and pulled out the vibrator wand which you had hidden in there. You wondered how he knew it was there. But before you could think over it too much, he turned it on and placed it in between your legs; right on top of your entrance.

You whined in pleasure, but he quickly shut you up by pushing his fingers past your lips. “Always whining like a brat.” He commented, smirking and wiggling the wand a little and making you whine louder. And to add on to your sweet torture, Bucky circled his arm around you and gently circled your clit with his two fingers.

“What is it babygirl, you can’t take it?” Steve taunted again.

You whimpered under their touch, but something told you that they wouldn’t let you have your way so easily this time.

“I know you’ve never heard ‘no’ in your life, sweetheart. But you will tonight.” Bucky murmured in your ear, making you tilt your head back; shivering against him.

Steve chuckled, removing his fingers from your warm mouth. “You’re not allowed to cum until you have our permission, babygirl. You hear me?”

You nodded and whimpered a pathetic yes.

Your thighs began trembling as they both messed with you. Steve changed the setting on the wand, making it more intense while Bucky tilted your head back and kissed you deeply. More like invaded your mouth like he owned it; pushing his tongue past your lips and stroking the top of your mouth. You whimpered, happily trapped between the two of them.

You felt the pressure forming in between your legs, and you involuntarily bucked your hips against the vibrator, trying desperately to chase your orgasm. Steve noticed, and he didn’t think twice before lifting the vibrator off you – denying you your release.

You groaned louder, the sound muffled by Bucky’s mouth on top of yours. He pulled away from the kiss and chuckled. “It’s frustrating, isn’t it baby?” he asked, softly. You looked up at him and nodded. His soft demeanor went away the minute you agreed. “Well that’s exactly how it feels when you don’t listen.” He growled leaning in again. You thought he was going to kiss you again, but instead he licked your swollen lower lip and spat into your open mouth.

His actions elicited a loud whine out of you.

“Look at me.” Steve slid his hands into your hair again and tugged on it. You looked at him with nothing but desire in your eyes. He let go of your hair and gripped your jaw while he placed the vibrator back against your core. You felt the vibrations all over your body, a familiar warmth washing over you while you stared into his icy blue eyes.

“Always boasting about your family’s money and power, you little brat.” Steve whispered, leaning in to bite your mouth again while he pressed the vibrator further against your core, making you drip and moan louder. “Who’s your daddy now, huh?”

Bucky fingers found your clit again, and they teased you just like before. “Tell us baby, who owns this bratty little cunt?” Bucky whispered menacingly in your ear, biting on your ear lobe.

You moaned again, both at the sensations and the words. “You do…” you breathed out, unable to form coherent sentences. They both chuckled, and continued their sweet torture on your body. Steve kissed along your jaw as he wiggled the wand around and make you scream louder, while Bucky’s fingers rubbed your clit furiously.

And you couldn’t take it anymore. “Can I-… please…” you begged and it was the first time they heard you ask for something so politely.

“What was that, babygirl?” Steve asked, pretending that he didn’t hear you the first time. And seeing you weren’t answering, he lifted the vibrator off you again. “I said, what was that?” he asked again, more sternly.

You whined and whimpered at being denied again. “Please… please can I cum?” you asked again, begging with your eyes shut to stop the tears of frustration from falling.

Bucky immediately wrapped a hand around your throat and tilted your head back. “Ask nicely sweetheart. Say ‘please daddy, I’ll be a good girl from now.’“ he mumbled against the side of your mouth.

Steve increased the intensity of the vibrator again and it made you repeat Bucky’s words wantonly. They were both pleased at your obedience, but not quite done with you yet.

“Look at me, babygirl.” For a moment, Steve’s voice had you fooled. You thought he was actually going to give in and would actually let you cum. “You want to cum for daddy?” he asked, and you nodded with hot tears falling down your cheeks. And just when you thought you were getting closer to your release, he lifted the wand off your body again.

“No. You will not cum until you’ve learnt your lesson.”

 They both toyed with your body like they owned it. They switched places and Bucky had the most fun in teasing you with the vibrator. He trailed it up and down your body, circling your erected nipples with the tip of the wand and then back down to where you craved it the most.

Tears streamed down your face.

“Are you crying, baby? Good, this would teach you not to be a brat next time,” Bucky spoke as he wiggled the toy around against your wet folds.

You begged them relentlessly, but they denied you each time. Looking you deep in the eyes and saying, ‘No.’ Yet, a twisted part of you liked how they treated you like they owned you. Like you were nothing but a toy to them, for them to play with as they pleased.

Your pleas were incessant, and wanton. Steve pushed two of his fingers past your entrance while Bucky placed the wand right on your clit – unmoving. Steve’s fingers stroked your walls so slowly that it was almost agonizing.

“Aww you’re dripping all over my hand, babygirl.” He commented, making you squeeze around his fingers. Your arousal leaked out of you, coating the tip of the toy and his fingers alike. He could see what they were both doing to you, and he liked the control they both had over you. “Look at how you’re shaking.” He taunted again.

You begged again, to no one in particular. And the reply was just as disappointing as earlier. “No. Spoilt brats with no manners don’t get to cum so easily.”

And you whined again.

“Shh, you’re gonna take all that we give you. And you’re not gonna be a brat about it, you understand?” Steve silenced you.

Bucky gripped your jaw and kissed you deeply again, swallowing your pathetic moans while he pressed the wand further against you. Your body trembled, you moaned as soon as the vibrating tip came in contact with your sensitive spot. Your body shuddered as he wiggled it around just a bit. The sensation was overwhelming.

“Do you want us to stop, babygirl?” Steve mumbled in your ear, his fingers slipping in and out of you and the wet sounds were obscene.

You shook your head and Bucky pulled away to let you talk. “No, no please… don’t stop…” the last thing you wanted was for them to leave you here, frustrated and burning with desire.

 Unfortunately, that’s exactly what they did.

“Well guess what, sweetheart? You don’t get to make the rules this time. You can’t always have what you want.” Bucky smirked as he lifted off the wand from you and turned it off.

Steve chuckled and kissed your neck, releasing your sore wrists. “Good night, babygirl.” They both stood up from your bed, leaving you naked, whimpering, and tear-stained, burning with need and most of all; dripping wet.

Your body was worn out, after being with them for the past hour or two. Or maybe more, you couldn’t tell because you were a little disoriented. But you couldn’t believe that they were just walking away from you, without giving you what you so desperately wanted.

“And don’t you dare touch yourself.” Bucky said, before he walked out of your room.

Steve took a good look at you; what a beautiful mess he and Bucky had made. “See you tomorrow.” He winked before he shut the door behind him.

 ---

a/n: fear not, there’s a part 2 coming soon ;)

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[boldlyvoid]

My Lady, Amoreena

summary: on November 13th, 2021, Amoreena turns 8

word count: 2076

Amoreena Masterlist

First’s are important.

In his mother's scrapbook, there are more pages from his first year of life than anything else. Everything from the moment he was born, his first bath, first Christmas, and the most pages went to his first birthday. There are photos of both his parents holding him, his grandparents before they passed, his aunts and uncles and the 3 older cousins he had. All people he doesn’t know anymore, surround him and a cake and a big smile on his baby face.

“You were a cute kid, dad,” Amoreena smiles as she looks through the pages.

She’s sitting on Diana’s lap, on her own grandmother's couch, both sides of her family converged in one room and it was so, so strange for Spencer to witness. Linda and Bob were sharing photos of Y/N and their other kids, Y/N was currently headed back to their house for Amoreena’s baby photos, taking a bit longer than usual with her heavy bump.

They were all together to celebrate his first baby’s birthday. While Jo is technically the oldest and Elly is technically the first baby he’s had more than just a hand in making, Amoreena is the first child he knew he had and by all means the one who holds the most of his heart. But they were celebrating early, her birthday wasn’t for a few more days, they just knew they wouldn’t be home for her birthday.

She was about to be 8 years old, she had a big party planned for the Saturday following her birthday, with all her cousins and dad’s work friends, but this was just for the close family. And Amoreena’s best friend, who wasn’t there yet, given she was a bit busy these days.

All her presents were sitting on the kitchen table, replacing the magnificent dinner her nanny Linda made for her and waiting to be replaced once again with cake soon— or in this case, nanny’s famous chocolate pie.

“Look who I found wandering the yard,” Y/N’s voice cuts into all the fun as she pushes the screen door open more.

“Taylor!!” Amoreena hops off Diana's lap and runs towards the door, wrapping her arms around Taylor and holding her close. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too,” she smiles so big as she holds her. “Is it okay that I brought Joe with me?”

“It might get a little confusing with my sister, but yes he’s allowed to come,” she was too funny for how little she was.

Joe greets her next, getting down on one knee and taking her hand in his, “what a pleasure to meet you, Lady Amoreena.”

“I forgot you were British,” she giggles, blushing slightly.

“It’s funny isn’t it,” Taylor teases him as well.

Then she starts giving everyone else a hug, having been to the farm enough times over the last few months to have an amazing relationship with Y/N’s family. They didn’t know it yet, but Taylor bought Bob a new tractor for Christmas, knowing he was having a hard time with his current one during hay season. She was like an honorary daughter to them.

“Where is your sister?” Taylor asks Amoreena when she realizes she’s one hug short. “I haven’t seen her yet.”

“She’s at Henry’s house tonight,” Amoreena answers, “they’re probably kissing… they’ve been so gross lately.”

Taylor laughs, picking her up and bringing her towards the present table, “then you might not like my present from you…”

Amoreena’s eyebrows raise, cautious and confused, “what?”

“Here,” she hands her a tiny box from the table that she had sent in advance.

“Can I mom?” She turns to Y/N.

“Yeah, go for it, kiddo,” she cheers on, waving her hand and then immediately rubbing her bump.

Amoreena tears through the paper, opening the box and squealing, “I wanted one of these!!!” She says as she pulls a red scarf out of the box to wrap it around her neck when 4 pieces of paper fall out from inside.

Invitations to the All Too Well Premiere in New York, to be exact.

She quickly wraps it around her, before bending down and picking them up. She reads them fast, eyes widening and mouth opening but she’s oddly silent, wanting to scream but not having the capacity to.

“No…” she shakes her head. “I get to go?”

Taylor nods, “you’re a Red baby, I can’t have the Red release party without you.”

She hugs Taylor, excited as ever before handing the remaining tickets to her parents, “open my gift next,” Y/N says, getting her dad to bring the biggest gift from the table to the little girl's reach.

She unwraps a suitcase and then outfits from her grandparents until there are only 2 gifts left on the table. One from Diana and one from Spencer. “Open grandma Di’s first,” Spencer says, handing it to her and watching her open it, having no idea what she bought her.

She unwraps the gift, opening the box delicately and setting it down on the floor so she can look at the contents better. “No way?”

“I thought if you want to be a writer, you need the essentials, so that’s your own special writing book and an engraved pen fit for a future queen,” Diana explains as she takes out the gold pen and turns it around.

She gets up from the floor and runs into Diana’s arms, holding her tight and kissing her cheek, “thank you, this is the best gift, I’m going to write every day.”

“You can send me letters with the extra paper and envelopes I put in the box. They’re addressed and stamped so you can send them whenever they’re ready.” Diana holds her close with a smile on her face, “did you know your dad used to send me a letter every day when I was living in Las Vegas?”

She nods, “he said you guys were best friends like me and my mom.”

“We were,” Diana smiles, “you have the best dad, and I think it’s time you open the present from him now.”

Amoreena wanders back to Spencer, hopping up onto the kitchen chair beside him and looking at the gift in his hands, “I’m so excited.”

“Yeah?” Spencer worries, no gift could ever make up for the birthdays he missed, but he was trying.

She nods, innocent smile and wide eyes, “I’ve never gotten a gift from my dad before, this is a special birthday.”

He already knows he’s going to cry when she opens it, he didn’t expect her to make him feel this emotional already. “Open it,” he whispers so he won't cry.

She tears back the paper, noticing it’s a book she flips it around and looks at the cover. “Amoreena: from the other side— dad, did you write this?”

He nods, feeling the tears well in his eyes, “I wanted you to know what it’s been like for me to go from not knowing you, to having the best daughter in the world.”

She wraps her arms around him, “I love you so much dad, I can’t wait to read this.”

“One day we need an Amoreena movie,” Taylor teases in the background of their moment, “like the Waltons but modern.”

Y/N laughs, “you know that show’s based on a book called Spencer’s mountain, right? It always comes back full circle with us.”

“Seriously?” Both Spencer and Diana say at the same time, “I had no idea, I always loved that show,” Diana continues.

Y/N nods, “I almost named Amoreena Elizabeth cause she was my favourite character. I always knew I’d end up with a John-boy type.”

“You know what really needs a movie,” Amoreena’s little voice peeps in, staring right at Taylor, “we need a Betty, James and August movie, and if you wait a bit I’ll be old enough to play August one day.”

“You’d want to do that?” Taylor smiles, “I’d love to have you in one of my videos.”

“and I’ve always dreamed of wearing the teardrops on my guitar dress to prom,” she just keeps listing her dreams like Taylor was her fairy godmother.

“I still have it,” Taylor smiles, “and your hair is just curly enough to re-create the look perfectly.”

She’s still holding the book from her dad when she sits down beside Taylor, flipping through the pages quietly and smiling to herself as she blocks out all the conversations happening around her. Spencer watches with a fondness he’s always felt around her, his little girl was perfect in every sense of the world, he was so in love with his family and his life. It was everything he’s ever wanted, and now she was living the best life because of it.

—

A little while after cake, Taylors left, Poppy bob was driving Diana home, Y/N was laying down with her feet up and it was just Spencer and Amoreena. She had her bath, she’s in her PJ’s, cuddled up against her father under her quilt and under the glow of the nightlight, he holds her a bit closer.

The book he’s spent the last 3 months on, barely 200 pages, it’s full of small stories, life-changing events, both happy and sad, and all the love he had for her explained as well as he could on paper. “I know it’s not much of a gift—

“It’s my favourite gift,” she cuts him off. “Dad, I love you and I love listening to you, so now I have a book that’s always going to have your voice to me and I’ll always have a part of you. Like I have with GG, it’s so special dad.”

“You’re so special,” he hugs her tighter.

“I get it from you,” she replies, smiling up at him with his brown eyes and her mother's chin, his nose but her face shape, she was perfectly them.

“I was always worried my kids would hate me for making them like me because I had a very hard time being me as a kid,” he always tells her the truth. “But you somehow took all the parts about me I never liked and made me realize just how freaking cool they are. You’ve changed my whole perception of the world, you’re the best person I know.”

“Don’t let mom hear that,” she smiles, laughing as she leans into his chest more. “But you’re also the best person I know. Also the best dad…”

“But?” He can tell there was something left hanging at the end of that sentence.

“Can I tell you a secret?” She whispers. “I don’t want you to tell mom.”

“Okay.”

“Last year on my birthday, I wished to have a dad,” she whispers. “My classmates all had dads, and I knew Michael's dad was cool, and I wanted one.”

“I always wanted a dad too, it doesn’t mean I love my mom any less,” Spencer reassures her. “But I’m really glad you wished for me because that wish found me and it pulled me to you.”

She smiles even wider, “like an invisible string.”

He nods, “you’re the best, and no matter what, you’re always going to be my first little girl and I’m always going to love you. I was always meant to be your dad.”

“Even when the baby gets here?” She lets it out and he can see the weight lift from her shoulders.

“Even when the baby gets here,” he confirms. “You know how it was so easy for you to welcome Jo and love her?” She nods, “well, it’s like that whenever we have kids, my heart grows to love everyone equally, no one gets replaced, they just find room.”

“You’re the best dad,” she says it again as her eyes start to get heavier and her words come out slower, “this was the best day, I love you.”

“I love you too, sweet pea,” he kisses the top of her head and wiggles free of her grasp.

He tucks her into bed, patting her bed lightly and smiling down at her, “thank you for being my dad,” she whispers one last time.

“Thanks for being my little girl,” he tries to not get too emotional, sneaking out of her room before he really starts to cry.

He would have never imagined his life would become this if you had asked him this time last year, but he also wouldn’t change it for the world.

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[in-tua-deep]

Are you into my hero academia? What about an AU or crossover with tua?

UHHHH I am technically, like, peripherally? I watched some seasons of the show like two or three years ago and since then have simply absorbed all content through osmosis, reading fanfiction that has canon events, and my sister telling me about the arcs of her fav characters lmao

so a crossover hmmm

First of all you'd have to like, establish whether bnha is an alternate universe or just The Future If No Apocalypse with quirks being traced back to the descendants of the kids born without mothers

So let's say it's that - the glowing baby was the "first quirk" but the truth is people had powers before that. But - well, the Umbrella Academy was obviously a marketing gimmick to those in the future! There were even comics based on them

In the future, you might find some of those comics in museum exhibits dedicated to depictions of powers in the pre-quirk era, but they're just fun depictions and much less popular than, oh, DC or MCU comics which are also in the exhibits!

End of s2 doesn't happen I guess in this au?? No sparrow academy at least lmao. So, the Umbrella Academy stop the apocalypse (again) and the Commission threat is? Neutralized? Whatever. They decide to jump back to the future

Five warns them that time travel is a crapshoot, that he has no fucking idea when they'll land beyond some nebulous "future" because Five can at least control the direction if not exactly how long

Also, Five is like. Super tired. Incredibly tired. Homeboy still has a healing gut wound, time traveled twice, has been jumping all over the place, gotten even more injured, experienced paradox psychosis, and managed to undo time all in the space of like, two weeks. There actually more than that but we don't have time to get into how fucking tired Five is from his ~Month of Hell

Like genuinely this is like putting someone almost delirious from lack of sleep in the driver's seat of a car and expecting to get to your destination in one piece

But hey, the siblings are like "do it uwu" and Five has sacrificed everything for them already so why not get behind the wheel again

So Five jumps them, and of course something goes wrong because Five has pushed his powers like a great big rubber band and honestly it was only a matter of time before he lost his grip and it snapped back to hit him

So here be the umbrella academy: spilled out into the future like a cup of bad coffee.

Five probably isn't in too good of shape tbh, like they're hundreds of years in the future (but hey at least confirmation of no apocalypse am I right) in a world full of superpowers and Five is like. bleeding from his ears and nose probably idk

Let's handwave a little bit - Reginald made them all polyglots so the squad all speak varying levels of Japanese. Allison is the best at it, Five is second best but tends to use more archaic words bc he had missions in Japan back when he was with the commission, and Klaus is third best.

(Ben is the worst bc he decided when he was 16-and-dead that he didn't have to do anything regarding lessons and maintenance and hasn't given a shit since - but also he's dead so)

So you have a bunch of weird adults with a bleeding child in like, an alley who have appeared from nowhere

so of course heroes get involved

Anyway, the squad get taken in and Five is conscious but like, barely? And he's not going to let himself get separated from his siblings again fuck-you-officer and there is a lot of confusion

anyway detective tsukauchi ends up getting involved and ends up having to hear this batshit story and be like "...truth." which sends all kinds of people scrambling because fucking time travel? Like yeah, it's been theorized to be a possible quirk but there's no recorded cases of any sort of time travel that is for more than 24 hours let alone hundreds of years

"I'm an adult." Five says sourly, "I just happened to be returned to my 13 year old body when I time traveled one time."

"True." Tsukauchi says, feeling his soul leave his body, but like. absently. the way he does when he's called in at 2am after getting off of work at midnight.

"I'm 58." Five says.

"Lie." Tsukauchi says, because this is a headcanon hill I will die on.

"I'm probably 58, but it was hard to keep track. I'm at least 50." Five corrects.

"True." Tsukauchi sighs like these six (seven? they keep referring to another sibling and Klaus said 'ghost' like that was fine and it registered as true and Tsukauchi is not nearly paid enough for this) are not giving him a migraine by just existing

on the bright side there's like, probably protocols in place for individuals who are Legally Chronologically Adults but thanks to quirks are Not Physically Or Not Mentally Adults with tests to determine if the individual needs a guardian or not

though i'm gonna be honest idk if Five would pass the test bc he literally cannot take care of himself at all, has never paid taxes or understands how to exist legally, and also his emotional maturity is stunted as all hell. also like. we don't actually know how much being in his thirteen-year-old body affects his mental state but yeAH Five is vibing

anyway Tsukauchi probably phones a friend on this bullshit because Time Travel Child alone is probably enough for the Hero Commission to be like "find a way to control and use it or nuke it from orbit" and that's not even touching whatever the fuck Klaus is doing (shit gets real once 'dead men tell no tales' stops being true) let ALONE Allison's whole deal

on the bright side like, at least Vanya isn't getting side-eyed that much bc Big Destructive Quirks aren't exactly unknown? if vanya wanted to i guess quirk suppressors exist for that until extensive training on how to control a super powerful quirk happens

Tsukauchi in the group chat: Aizawa please I am literally begging you to take this bullshit on

Aizawa: in this economy? with my class?

RatGod: lol we'll take them ;3c

Aizawa: no

Anyway they probably end up having to live at UA while Five insists on trying to get them home still and everyone else is like "oh hey we used to be child soldiers as well! (:" and Aizawa is like "i hate everything about this and everything about all of you but also like nedzu is making me interact with you so :/"

nedzu is out here vibing like "lol i just don't want the hero commission to get their little paws on these time traveling fuckers, i think you should make then teaching assistants or something"

honestly the siblings are probably like. figuring out how to function in the bnha universe and getting like, legally registered and stuff while Five ferally refuses bc that's like saying he's giving up on getting them home and he can do this

Recovery girl tries to heal him a little when he arrives and he passes out for two weeks like, immediately bc homeboy is running on fumes and spite at this point

also i think on principle it would be REALLY FUNNY if the squad got to tag along with the class bc like. Five is thirteen and the class are all 15. this does not sound like a large age gap. anyone who has interacted with teenagers know that the class would squint at Five and be like "who is this sassy lost middle schooler."

I feel like when I was a sophomore we were still like "freshman... babie" even though we were literally only one year older.

i think the difference between the umbrella academy and school kids would be pretty funny like. objectively the bnha kids are lowkey child soldiers?? like they're 15 and fighting villains but like, there's all this red tape and laws and stuff but,,, deku still be breaking his limbs in a child fighting ring against equally superpowered children for like. entertainment and sponsorships sooo

but also like Five would be like "oh cool when is the experimentation class"

"the what"

"you know, when your powers are pushed real hard by putting you in different terrible situations while your dad and sibling stand by with clipboards writing down the exact voltage it takes before you can't use your powers anymore when being electrocuted"

"hound dog's office is right there. therapy is available to you at any time. i need you to know this."

all might calls Luther "my boy" like one (1) time and Luther just breaks down crying probably because he is starved for positive attention

klaus and midnight get along like a literal house on fire, aizawa tried his best to keep them apart for as long as possible but god damn

(klaus: your name is shimura nana??

all might: immediately dies choking on blood)

i feel it absolutely necessary to point out that aizawa, present mic, and midnight are all like, 30? and the umbrella academy are all between 29-early 30s? they are PEERS but like. the umbrella academy are more chaotic due to childhood trauma

the umbrella academy probably get offered to like. also train to be heroes. i mean,, there HAS to be some sort of track for people who change careers right?? you don't have to cement your future as a hero when you're 15 i'm sure there must be something and the squad already have experience if they want to go be legal heroes

diego probably does at least?? diego just vibes honestly. diego gets momo to make knives during a team exercise and they just go feral on everyone else and it ends with diego highfiving momo and someone getting way to close to being stabbed for comfort

Five might just be. legally enrolled as an Actual Student? But also i think it's funny to picture the entire squad just. all in the back of the classroom with luther trying to fit into a high school desk as they take notes on the laws of The Future surrounding heroics

every word out of the umbrella academy's mouths just make everyone more concerned on principal but like, five and klaus are probably the worst offenders. Klaus just says whatever comes to mind with no filter and Five doesn't get what people would consider to be abnormal anymore like

Five: yeah our dad bought us when we were babies and experimented on us throughout our childhood in order to make an elite team of child soldiers superheroes, it happens

Todoroki: ...have you heard of quirk marriages?

izuku probably has an aneurism bc he's is the only person who might recognize them from the comics because you know ya boy extensively researched the idea of heroics in pre-quirk eras (batman was an inspiration alright???) and might dredge up a memory of a less popular comic series

Five: I can time travel but it is very hard, which is why we are hundreds of years in the future. And why I look like a child.

Kaminari: so are you a kid or not?

Five, serenely: whatever is most convenient for me at any given moment

Mina: hell yeah game the system

they have a brief lesson on astronomy and Luther raises his hand like "ooh! i was isolated on the moon for four years and did SO MUCH research" and then just gets up and starts infodumping like way too much information on the moon

Izuku sitting there like "damn if quirks hadn't popped up we could have achieved so much in terms of space travel. please tell me more giant man who lived in pre-quirk era."

Vanya finds out about the quirkless and is like "oh mood that genuinely sounds like my childhood, being ordinary in a house full of extraordinary people, and then i found out that i did have powers but only much later in life after i had already been emotionally scarred by the experience"

deku: vanya we have so much in common

iida and uraraka: concerned noises

aizawa: hound dog. therapy with hound dog for all of you.

there's probably some conflict with like, the hero commission wanting to get their hands on the time travelers?? but probably especially five and klaus as a) time travel and b) ghosts (the hc def has bodies they would like to stay buried)

five has a pavlovian reaction to anything with 'commission' in the name and hates them on site, probably plays into his age in order to become a ward of UA or something to protect him from the commission a little bit.

(this makes nedzu Five's legal guardian. aizawa has his resignation papers all prepped in a drawer marked 'in case of emergency' but let's be real, if nedzu wants to take over the world aizawa should probably be on the rat-bear's side of things :/)

five: ah, i do recall the inhumane experimentation that we were subjected to

nedzu, who was experimented on: haha same hat! want me to dig up the location of reginald hargreeves's remains so you can spit on them?

klaus: nah no worries we dumped them out in the courtyard unceremoniously like, a while back. how long ago varies for each of us because of time travel!

luther: you said hound dog's office was down the hall and to the right?

on the bright side, Luther probably feels like. way less self conscious about his body, partially bc of his fighting and all that in the 60s but also bc !! now he genuinely doesn't feel like a freak. no one even gives him a second glance. one of the teachers looks like a slab of cement with a face. gang orca looks Like That. there is literally a student with an entire bird head and goth aesthetic. Luther does not stick out at all

allison and shinso bond over having "villainous" voice-based quirks

allison and shinso having worn muzzles at some point in their youth as punishment 🤝

aizawa probably helps train vanya as well with the whole, being able to erase a world ending quirk safely thing he's got going on which makes for a very nice safety net

i don't think vanya would want to be a hero at the end of things though. maybe the assistant teacher in the music class or something?? all vanya wants is to be able to not end the world

i feel like as time goes by, five brings up trying to get home less and less. part of that is because like,,, genuinely what do they have to go back to?? Allison has Claire, but like. I'm 100% sure the first thing she did in the future was try track down Claire's records and found out Claire was like. fine. became an adult, had a family, probably became the ancestor of the first "quirked" kids who officially popped up after light baby. had a good life, died at an old age etc. etc.

they start settling into the bnha world with like, "we can always hop aboard the five express into where the fuck ever" as a plan Z if things go completely pear shaped (again)

i'mma be real, five himself doesn't give a fuck as long as there is a) no apocalypse and b) his family is alive. Like that's it. His bar is so incredibly low and yet his life keeps fucking trying to limbo under it

i just think it would be funny to have like, Five trying to get along with his "peers" and make friends while the siblings do the same but like, in the staff room

also think it would be funny for five to just walk into the staff room and get coffee occasionally.

a teacher: why is a student in here -

Five, sipping coffee: i'm an adult

nedzu like "what kind of guardian would i be if i didn't teach my new son all the tunnels around ua so he can pop out wherever"

five like "hey new dad can i put stashes of supplies all around ua of weapons, money, food, and other assorted things that might be useful if one needed to fight or make a run for it" and nedzu is like "haha just put your list of what supplies you want in your go bags on my desk and i'll critique it later!"

anyway a bnha/tua crossover would be incredibly chaotic but probably very funny

[kujakumai]

cleaned up old WIP, 2800 words, AU where Yami Bakura succeeds in switching hosts in DK and Mokuba makes friends with an evil ghost. Not going to be continued but it literally would not leave my brain alone until I finished it.

Things were not going according to plan.

The plan was to take control of a soulless puppet, an easy vessel incapable of interfering with his ends. He had the vessel, had accomplished that much, but he was not expecting the pharaoh and his little friends to succeed and convince Pegasus to give everyone their souls back. So now not only was there a second person in this body he had to keep suppressed, but now he was stuck impersonating a child, smiling through an awkward reunion and then placed onto a helicopter next to a gangly high school student who was watching him like a hawk.

The spirit-that-was-no-longer-Yami-Bakura knew that he was supposed to be Mokuba, but he did not remember the tall one's name. K-something. He had a stupid jacket and hardly took his eyes off him the entire ride, as if he thought his little brother was going to disappear in a puff of smoke when he wasn't looking. Annoying. Infuriating. Luckily it did not seem he wanted to talk, or at least accepted silence. No one expects recent kidnapping victims to say much, which was a boon. A little dazed, a little quiet, a little off, and no one really found it unusual.

They dropped off the pharaoh and his friends, and finally landed at a gaudy and ostentatious house so large it took him a second to realize it was a home at all, an absurd monument to decadence with grounds full of ugly topiaries. Wealth, then. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad. He could work with this. The rich kid in the stupid coat quietly held his hand the entire walk up the driveway, until they entered a foyer just as gilded and obscene as the outside had been.

No, things were not going to plan, and playing grade-schooler was awkward and an insult to his dignity, and he was farther away from the other millennium items as he ever had been. He would have to grit his teeth through it until he could figure out the next step. In the meantime, perhaps, enjoy some amenities.

Richie rich sighed, relaxed his shoulders the moment they got inside. He looked at who he thought was his little brother and gave him a small, exhausted but genuine smile. He struggled with what to say next.

"Mokuba," he said, "I have to check on a few things in my office. See what kind of damage they did. Do you want to come with me?"

"No." Finally, a chance to be out of this idiot's sight.

This answer seemed to surprise him, a twitch of skepticism. "Will you be okay by yourself?"

He nodded. Keep answers short, when you're impersonating.

His face betrayed more skepticism, concern, and the tiniest hint of disappointment. As if rich kid himself was the one who was scared to be alone in his own house. He accepted the answer, though, to the spirit's relief.

Rich kid bent down and pulled him into a tight hug and ruffled his hair. "We'll get something special for dinner, okay? And ice cream."

"I do like ice cream." This was true. Ryou Bakura almost never bought ice cream, and when he did it was the stupid healthy kind that everyone knew shouldn't even really qualify as ice cream, which was another reason he was a terrible host. That and the fact that he was startlingly pale and had the upper body strength of a limp noodle and the personality of skim milk. This would be better, even if he had to deal with the abrupt drop in height.

Rich kid headed off towards the staircase with another tired but trying-to-be-reassuring smile, and it was then that the spirit of the ring felt an annoyance in the back of his brain. A presence. A scratching, biting, flailing presence, screeching mad, which he had been suppressing for a while now but finally broke through.

get out get out get out get out give it back its MINE get out

The host, awake. What a bother. More rambunctious than Bakura, then? No matter. He could handle a child.

that was MY hug and MY headpat and MY big brother and you can't have them he's been gone for ages and they're mine not yours get out get out get out

The spirit pushed back, ignored him. Shush. He had planned to hold this body alone, and he did not intend to go back to sharing. If you're good, I might let you have it back for a little while later.

shut up go away go away go away go AWAY

And then Mokuba Kaiba did something, something the spirit was not accustomed to or expecting at all, something which Ryou Bakura had never been willing or able to do. He shoved, violently, and the spirit of the ring was ripped out of control with some amount of panic.

"SETOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

Why you insolent little--

Seto Kaiba was not aware of the mental turf war happening over his little brothers body. What he did see was his brother scream his name and fall down, and the whole room echoed with a metal clatter as his briefcase fell on the floor and he ran towards him.

--

The ring had been discarded unceremoniously to a side table, and not-Bakura-and-not-Mokuba-either had no choice but to wait and observe, as a pediatrician on a sudden housecall shined lights in the boy's eyes and rich kid, who the spirit had since gleaned was named Seto Kaiba, looked on in worry.

"You said you heard a voice?" The doctor asked.

"Uh-huh. I think it lives in the necklace."

"You got that thing at Pegasus's house?" Kaiba asked, in disbelief.

"I don't remember. I was just wearing it when I woke up."

"What did the voice say?" the doctor continued, professionally ignoring any talk about magic necklaces.

"Not a lot. It was kind of mean."

"I see." She turned to Kaiba. "He's fine, physically. You might want a psychologist." and Seto Kaiba made what could politely be referred to as A Face. This was not what he wanted to hear, this was news that worried and annoyed him in equal measure, and to some degree was news he had half-expected.

"He's had a rough few months. I'll look into it." and she was dismissed, and Mokuba hopped down from the counter.

"Can we order pizza?" he asked, with big pleading eyes.

Kaiba watched him with dry amusement. "Mokuba, you can have anything you want from any restaurant in a forty mile radius."

"And I want pizza. Real pizza, from somewhere that doesn't also serve caviar."

"Cheap pizza?"

He nodded very seriously. "The grossest greasiest cheapest."

"I can do that. Anything else you want?"

Mokuba's eyes lit up, and soon he was dragging Kaiba by the hand towards somewhere else in the house. "I got to this really hard level in my game I can't get past and I wanted to see if you could beat it, and I found this really cool video I wanted to show you, and I got a really good report card you never saw, and--" and months worth of pent up requests were tumbling out rapid fire, and Kaiba was smiling with affection and some amount of relief.

Loud and clingy, then, was the normal and expected behavior. The spirit of the ring made note of this, as he lie abandoned.

--

The ring was still sitting on a side table, in Mokuba's bedroom, apparently because no one knew what to with it or thought it mattered much. This was a problem. The spirit couldn't do anything without a host, and now everyone was suspicious, these stupid rich people worried too much and paid too much attention.

He was forced to sit there all night, pondering about how he was going to get out of this mess, when at one or two in the morning he observed Mokuba wake up, and rub his eyes, and hop out of bed. He did not turn the light on, but he did check the time, and reach under his bed to retrieve what appeared to be a small backpack. He took it with him as he moved quietly towards the door, and the spirit saw his chance.

Hey, kid. He was near enough to speak into his head. Maybe this wasn't a dead end.

"You!" Mokuba stopped in his tracks and looked right at the ring.

Yes, me. This could be salvaged, he thought, concocting a plan. This was a child. Play friendly ghost and imaginary friend. Surely it would not be hard to weasel himself into the good graces of a sixth grader.

Mokuba glared at the ring with suspicion. "I don't think Seto believed me when I said you could talk, but I knew it." He picked it up delicately by the string to examine.

Where on earth are you going at this time of night?

Mokuba was the current host, technically, so there was a connection, and 11 year olds are not particularly used to or adept at hiding their own thoughts, especially inside their own heads. The answer, if not in words but in abstract concept, was provided instantly as it bubbled to mind. He was going to the kitchen, as he did once or twice a week, not their personal kitchen but the house staff kitchen, where he would move a chair to stand on the counter to reach the very back of the highest shelf of the third cupboard to the left, which was where one of the cleaning staff kept a pile of chocolate so he could cheat on his diet without his wife knowing, a fact Mokuba knew through surreptitious eavesdropping. Mokuba's end was to steal just enough of it that he wouldn't be noticed, and add it to a stash of snacks and other shiny trinkets currently hidden in the bottom of a pile of legos in his closet.

...You steal food to hide in your closet? Why would a child who lived in a three-story mansion need to steal?

Mokuba was only mildly perturbed by the fact that someone had just read his mind. He was mainly curious, now. "Our dad didn't like junk food, so I always took stuff to keep around." he explained, "I guess I don't really have to anymore, 'cuz Seto will let me have whatever I want, but--" he faltered, unable to finish or give a reason.

There wasn't a reason, and Mokuba knew that. There was no need to sneak or stash or steal anymore, but he kept doing it, irrationally, for reasons that confused him, a complicated swirl of things a child could not name or understand but were very easy for the spirit to read. Fear; compulsion; habit; the illusion of safety; the sense that your life was precarious, unstable; a need to exert control over your surroundings. It was not the food or the stealing that mattered, but of the hiding, of having something they could not take away from him.

Mokuba didn't understand any of that, because he was 11 and 11 year olds don't understand why they do anything. He just knew he liked sweets and hated people telling him what to do and that having bags of chips and other people’s lost jewelry at the bottom of an old toybox made him feel better.

Can I come with you?

"No! You tried to take control of me!"

Yes, but you kicked me out, and you'd probably be able to do it again, so I would be stupid to try. I also like chocolate, you see, and it's very boring to be stuck here on your desk.

"Can you even eat? You're a necklace."

I can when I borrow a body.

"You tried to take over me so you could eat chocolate? I'm not stupid enough to believe that."

That and other things. I can't do very much at all, while stuck in the ring. No food, no sunshine, no running around. It's no fun to be without a body, which is why I am occasionally driven to steal one. Terribly sorry about that. he added, in his most pathetic-sounding tone, Please? I don't have anyone else to talk to.

Mokuba was hesitant, but clearly found the fact of his existence too interesting to ignore. "Fine." He picked up the ring and dropped it unceremoniously into his backpack, which had a dragon on it.

Not trust yet, but tolerance and curiosity. One step at a time.

You shouldn't go barefoot, you know. Socks will be quieter if you're trying not to get caught.

"I didn't ask you."

So Mokuba descended down the stairwell, in the dead quiet and dark of the Kaiba Mansion, with no flashlight because he knew it well enough to navigate blindfolded. The place was decadent in the ugly way rich people's houses were, luxury but without taste, soft carpets and gilded banisters.

Mokuba had not quite realized yet how to think at the ring, so he spoke in a low whisper. "What are you, anyway?"

A ghost. So much more complicated than that, but simple words were suitable for children.

"How'd you end up a ghost in a necklace?"

I died, and then someone put me in a necklace.

"That's not an answer." he followed up, "Do all dead people become ghosts?"

No. Just sometimes, maybe, if the way they died was especially violent or gruesome or terrible.

Mokuba frowned. He had caught on remarkably quickly to guarding his own head, but the spirit could tell he didn't like this answer.

This was delicate, but he risked a push. Was there someone you had in mind?

Mokuba said nothing. He reached the staff kitchen on the lowest floor, and opened the door, slow and careful. He was deciding whether to say anything, as he climbed up as quietly as he could and reached far into the back of the cupboard, scrabbling.

"Our dad killed himself last year. Jumped out a window." He finally said, hopping down with his spoils. He said this the same way one might dolefully report the milk had gone bad. Unfortunate but boring.

You don't sound very sad.

"Nah, he sucked. And he never liked me." he said, "Seto was really really upset though. He was pretending not to be, but I could tell." Now there were feelings there, big and weird and sad and clinging ones. For reasons the spirit could not discern, the simple phrase ‘Seto was upset’ carried with it more weight, a thousand million times more weight, than news of a father's tragic death by defenestration. "I hope he's not a ghost. I don't wanna see him again."

Probably not.

Mokuba sat down cross-legged on the kitchen floor, unwrapped candy in silver foil. "You really can't do anything from in the necklace? Like, ghost stuff? Make things float or anything?"

No. It is a bit like being trapped in a very small box.

Mokuba mulled this over for a little while. "If you wanted to borrow a body to do fun stuff, you could have just asked."

Really?

He nodded. "Not being able to eat chocolate sounds lame. It'd be mean to just leave you like that." He put one chocolate into his mouth and dumped the rest in the backpack, where they covered the ring unceremoniously. More indignities. "Not in front of my brother, though. And you have to give it back whenever I say so."

...I could agree to such a compromise. Your candy haul is impressive, by the way.

"Thanks!" He grinned, emanating genuine pride. No one had ever complimented him for stealing before.

Tragic, the work of great thieves. How the very best of it can never be bragged about, the most impressive of skills gone unnoticed by nature, how the very success of a perfect crime relies on keeping your mouth shut about it. An unappreciated art, where even mastery gains you no respect.

You don't care that this poor man has to go out and buy twice as much food to make up for what you steal?

"No, he's a jerk. One time when I was six they confiscated my gameboy, so I went to steal it back and he caught me and told my dad and I got in huge trouble. So every day for a week I snuck down here and moved his keys to a different place so he couldn't find them. They were all so mad at him for losing them all the time, and he thought he was crazy."

Why was your gameboy confiscated?

"Don't remember. I think I bit someone at school." he shrugged, "They probably deserved it, though."

Mokuba Kaiba. he said, I think you and I are going to be excellent friends.

"Okay. Do ghosts watch cartoons?"