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rolanpilled · 1 year ago

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Why I Fell In Love With Rolan, A Character Analysis

I will be going through Rolan's lines, along with the devnotes, to try and explain my interpretation of his character.

This is coming from having spent 30+ hours combing through his dialogues, reading all of his books, listening to every voice line for context, and replaying every scene of his that's currently accessible.

TW: Mentions of abuse, family death, implied suicide

Very long post under cut. Get the Arabellan Dry out!

A few notes before getting into this:

In the game files, Rolan is referred to as "Prodigy", while Cal and Lia are referred to as "ProdigyBrother" and "ProdigySister".

Rolan is a character whose outer words and inner thoughts often do not align - for most of the game, he refuses to show vulnerability in front of Tav, reserving his softness for his siblings. This can be interpreted in a number of ways, ranging from a self-confidence issue to an avoidant attachment style. Though people are free to have their own interpretations, I will mainly be focusing on my own readings of his personality.

I am not a psychologist or a licensed health professional, but I have personal experiences with the mental health disorders I will reference in this post, and I have done a lot of research on the topics involved.

Part 1 - Elturel, and Rolan's past

"Rolan. Just... Rolan."

There isn't much you can tell about Rolan's life except that he's from Elturel and that Cal and Lia are his siblings - after all, he doesn't give you much info in the first place. He doesn't know you, he doesn't trust you. Why would he?

The information you get about his family and his life before BG3 come from minor dialogues, and using Speak With Dead on his corpse. The picture they paint isn't a happy one.

[Player: What's your name?]

[Rolan: Rolan. Just... Rolan.]

[Player: Do you have any family?]

[Rolan: No... family... no one.]

[Player: No family? What about Lia and Cal?]

[Rolan: They are... brother and sister. Cal says... I am family, but...]

Rolan doesn't have a family name. We don't know if Lia and Cal do, but it can be assumed they don't, else he might have taken theirs. The first thing that sticks out to me in this dialogue is that he doesn't consider himself to have a family, even though Cal and Lia say he's part of theirs.

The question is, what could have caused this? If his blood family was simply dead, wouldn't he refer to them as "dead" or "gone"? Instead he says he has "no one" and "no family", perhaps implying that his parents just... abandoned him. Either way, it gives the impression that he has issues with being abandoned, and may project a sense of toughness and arrogance to make up for his insecurity.

And there IS insecurity here - he outright says that Cal and Lia tell him that he's no different from family to them, but deep down, he doesn't seem to be able to accept it. That he can only reveal this information to you after death, having been so guarded in life, is heartbreaking.

As for his life in Elturel, not much is said, but a lot can be inferred from his attitude.

[Cal: Elturel was the last time the three of us talked like this. Let's hope it lasts until Baldur's Gate.]

After leaving Elturel, it appears Rolan, Cal, and Lia didn't have much time to talk. This is from the party scene - a scene where they're drinking, laughing, and joking amongst each other. Clearly the journey hasn't been the easiest for all of them, though one thing we can take from this dialogue is that they've had this friendly, sibling-like relationship for a long time.

From what we know of Elturel and the Descent, things were NOT pretty down in Avernus. Many people died, and after the city was returned to the surface, tieflings were driven out of the city, as we all know. Something important to think about is how exactly this might have gone for the three siblings: how exactly they ended up in the Grove, travelling with the refugees. The context seems to imply that the siblings were travelling on their own, not necessarily considered a part of the group, but this is debatable and not entirely clear.

So what brought them to Baldur's Gate? What finally drove them out of the city? Did they leave before things got worse, or were they driven from their homes with stones and violence? It could really be anything, but the one thing that's clear is that their primary reason for heading to Baldur's Gate is for Rolan to start his apprenticeship with Lorroakan.

We know that Rolan wrote Lorroakan a letter: multiple letters, actually. We're not sure if he wrote to other wizards, but from his dialogue, you can tell that Lorroakan's been someone he's respected for a long time, both for his magical skills and his political beliefs. Though he's never met Lorroakan, you can find a copy of Lorroakan's biography on his desk at Sorcerous Sundries - there's an admiration established early on, and the player is led to believe that Lorroakan is a powerful wizard (though if you bring Gale with you, he comments on Lorroakan's shady reputation, hinting at something darker beneath the surface).

What could have driven Rolan to write so far away, seeking apprenticeship? Was it out of a sense of desperation, wanting to leave the city but needing a way to take care of his siblings? Was it curiosity? A sense that Lorroakan might be his last chance to make something of himself after being denied what he felt like was his rightful destiny? As a tiefling, he must have faced some discrimination for his heritage - I can speak to my own experience here, growing up as a person of color in a majority-white community was genuinely traumatizing to myself and my non-white friends. Not only do we receive open bullying and ostracization for our appearance, there's something even more insidious that often happens to minority populations - neglect. A general disinterest in our accomplishments, a lack of encouragement and attention towards kids that don't fit the norm. If this was something Rolan had to experience, it's no wonder he felt angry and eager to prove himself. He's been neglected his all his life, and he finally has a chance to show everyone who doubted him that he really does have the potential to be a great wizard.

Rolan himself appears to be in his mid- to late- twenties, bringing up the question of what he's been doing his entire life if not magic. It's mentioned that he was able to conjure a flaming cat from when Cal was as young as 8, so depending on the age difference between the siblings, Rolan might have known magic from a very early age. So why, then, is he a mere wizard apprentice at the start of the game? He's surely had a lot of time to learn himself.

[Lia: Try not to get too close, Cal.]

[Rolan: Yes. Remember what happened last time?]

[Cal: I was eight and you magicked up a kitten. How was I supposed to know it was made of fire?]

What could have happened along the way? He might have just not found the time or the opportunity to be able to study, especially as a tiefling without a family or the money to pay for an education. In my interpretation, Rolan carries a lot of unvoiced shame for not having been able to "fulfill his destiny" until now. He projects an outward mask of confidence and arrogance to hide his vulnerability, his insecurities - that his family isn't really his family, and that he isn't really destined for greatness. His natural reaction to vulnerability is anger and denial, which we'll explore more in the later sections.

(It is mentioned in the devnotes, though, that Rolan "has truly worked his ass off to get here". Prodigy is not an ironic title - he's likely had to self-study to the point where Lorroakan felt that he had potential. He has a right to be confident, but it doesn't negate any potential feelings of unworthiness.)

Additional info - Rolan, Cal, and Lia, on top of having known each other since Cal was 8, also share a mother figure, who is deceased. There is no mention of a father. It could be that this was Lia and Cal's actual mother, who took Rolan in, or a number of other possibilities - it could be that ROLAN'S mother took the three in, or that she just happened to be an unrelated woman who adopted three orphans.

[Cal: We should have a little party when we reach the city, like we did for mum.]

[Rolan: That 'little party' lasted from sundown to sunrise. Lia would like that.]

This dialogue can only be accessed if Lia dies but Cal and Rolan live.

So we've set up a few key details about Rolan's personality: his arrogance may harbor hints of insecurity or desperation, he has issues with feeling abandoned or neglected, and he's potentially been denied his chance to learn magic in the past. We will explore these in detail in the next few sections, along with another troubling tendency of his - perfectionism, and the self-blame that comes with it.

Part 2 - The Grove

"I'll not gamble our lives, our futures, for people who are as good as dead."

If you recall his dialogue in the grove, Rolan seems to distance himself from the other refugees, focusing only on the safety of his siblings. Let's unpack this in his own words -

[Rolan: This isn't Elturel and I'm not responsible for every damn tiefling in the world!]

[Rolan: I made no such oath, and I will not be held responsible for these people.]

This is in contrast to Lia, who believes that they should help what she considered to be their 'kin'. Remember that Rolan often refers to the refugees in a detached way, refusing to associate himself with them.

At a first glance, it might seem like Rolan is fixated on his apprenticeship - he wants to get to Baldur's Gate straight away, so he can begin studying under Lorroakan. Lia accuses him of the same, causing Rolan to react with anger.

But if you think about what Rolan's underlying motivations might be, you might have realized something that Cal and Lia most likely recognized too - he's worried for his siblings' safety.

The grove is an open, unprotected area, and they're being menaced by druids on one side, goblins on the other. There's only a few fighters, Rolan, Cal and Lia among them, and none of them are strong enough to take on either group. Even if Rolan feels a sort of kinship with the other tieflings - which I'll expand on in a second - he prioritizes the lives of his siblings over them, and doesn't want them to sacrifice themselves for people he doesn't even know.

Now, the other theory - what if Rolan doesn't identify with the other tieflings, because he's been cast out by them before?

I'm going to inject my personal experience as an immigrant here. Life as an immigrant can be profoundly isolating, especially if you have few relatives in the area. Rolan may have been so attached to Cal and Lia because they took him in when his own people rejected him - for some reason, even other tieflings could have seen him as an "outsider", and refused to help him when his parents abandoned him or died. If you tie in the theory that he was a tiefling born to human parents (which would be taboo), it could have been that they rejected him for not "being tiefling enough". I'm aware that in-universe there's no one unified "culture" of tieflings, but even in groups without a unified culture, there are still small pockets of people with certain internal customs. It could be that Rolan failed to fit in due to his heritage, that he was rejected for his personality, or some other reason, but my interpretation for his refusal to help fellow tieflings is that he never quite felt the same kinship for them that Cal and Lia did. It could also be that he holds resentment towards them for abandoning him - abandonment seems to be a central theme in Rolan's story, and likely contributes to his feelings of inferiority and unworthiness.

(He does seem to know Infernal, though I don't know whether that's a cultural thing or an innate trait to tieflings.)

If the fight is held at the grove, Rolan, Cal, and Lia stand near the back of the cave to protect the children. They can be found arguing with each other on potential battle positions. Afterwards, if the tieflings and all three of the siblings survive, they can be found by the entrance of the cave, where Rolan again behaves arrogantly towards you and claims he could have handled the goblins on his own.

All of this is quite standard for his character and projects the image of an arrogant, selfish person who only seeks to protect himself and the people that matter to him, which is likely what he wants. It also lends some credibility to the interpretation where he was rejected by other refugees - if he felt neutral towards other tieflings, it might have made more sense if he was less derisive towards them. Instead, he consistently detaches himself from his people, drawing clear lines between them, with a hint of bitterness that seems to have a painful origin.

The rest of Act 1 is Rolan acting like his standard self - bratty, arrogant, and dismissive of others. That is how most of us met him, though he won't stay that way for long.

Part 3 - Moonrise

"But what good am I if I can't do this... this one thing?"

(Author's note: "This one thing" is travelling alone through a cursed, necrotic land, breaking into a prison staffed with dozens of trained guards, and personally facing an immortal chosen of the literal god of death. Rolan is a Level 4 wizard.)

As you already know, at the start of Act 2 Rolan is drinking himself to death alone. His brother and sister have been dragged away screaming by the cultists, and he's overwhelmed at the thought of never seeing them again. Naturally, he's quite angry with you, but if you read his lines closely, you can see that you're not the only person he's angry at.

[Rolan: Gods damn it all. I can do nothing right - not a damn thing!] [Devnote: Furious - mainly with himself]

[Player: You're supposed to be at Last Light.]

[Rolan: I'm supposed to be saving Cal and Lia!] [Devnote: Frantic, worried for his siblings]

[Rolan: Instead, I found myself cornered by shadow-fiends and in need of rescue. From you, of all bloody people.] [Devnote: Pissed off and taking it out on the player]

[Player: You were trying to help your family - you're too hard on yourself.]

[Rolan: Or not hard enough.]

[Rolan: I've failed Cal and Lia, again. Be on your way - I'll return to Last Light... I know when I'm outmatched.]

Rolan is someone who feels deeply responsible for the safety of his siblings (this lends credence to the idea that he's the eldest of the three). He may argue and bicker with them, but he could never abandon then, nor could he forgive himself if something were to happen to them. He is clearly carrying an unbearable amount of grief and guilt for allowing his siblings to be captured, but he's so emotionally repressed that he chooses to bury his sorrow under a mound of anger. Being drunk doesn't help - it's mentioned by one of the kids, Ide, that he's been through three bottles of wine by the time the player reaches the Shadow-Cursed Lands.

That much is obvious just from reading his lines, but his angry reaction to the player is, as the devnotes say, a way of taking out his pain and frustration on other people. He might feel guilty about it later, but in the moment, it's the only way he knows how to cope with them. This isn't his only instance of externalizing his self-hatred.

If Cal dies and Lia lives, the player has the option to break up an argument between Lia and Rolan. If they fail to neutralize the situation, Rolan will tell Lia (or Cal, depending on who lives) to get out of his sight permanently.

[Rolan: You deserve nothing. You two are cowardly parasites, and I am disgusted it took me this long to see. Get out of my sight.] [Devnote: Furious in his grief, lashing out, being as hurtful as he can to his surviving sibling]

[Lia: Fuck you, Rolan!]

[Lia: Insufferable, arrogant little prick. Argh.]

[Lia: Everything is about him, everything is about his pain. Godsdamnit, Rolan!]

It says a lot to me that if one of his siblings dies, that he has to be convinced out of lashing out at his surviving one. He seems to be like a person who deals with strong emotions by lashing out, likely as a defense mechanism to make himself appear stronger than he feels. This is a common technique used by people with self-esteem issues - to avoid drawing attention to their own vulnerability, they lash out and externalize their feelings with anger to bury the grief. Lia says as much in this ending - to Rolan, everything is about his pain, and he's managing it in the only way he knows how. He knows he's hurting his siblings, he knows it's wrong, but he engages in it anyway, a common trait of people who dislike themselves. If Rolan didn't have his apprenticeship, it wouldn't be a stretch to say that the death of his siblings might have caused him to spiral and give up on life altogether.

Interestingly enough, in the end where both Rolan and one of his siblings die, it's implied that the remaining sibling commits suicide. You can read more about it here - it gives some insight into Rolan's motivations, and serves to emphasize exactly how much this apprenticeship means to him. Rolan lives for two things, though it really just is one thing - his siblings, and his apprenticeship, which means more to him because it represents a hopeful future for his siblings. Every clue in the game points to his siblings being everything to him.

But let's move away from this bad ending for one second, and back to where we are. Rolan's been drinking himself silly, yelling at children, and eventually storms out into the SCL by himself. Being an apprentice wizard, few expect him to survive on his own, and true to form, he has to be rescued by the player again.

Though I think this line is currently bugged and unavailable, he actually has lines reacting to the shadows.

[Rolan: My magic is not to be trifled with - leave or die!] [Devnote: Exhausted and scared, but trying not to sound it]

Rolan, emotionally repressed fool he is, is once again attempting to appear big in order to protect himself from what he fears. Whether it's the shadows, or the loss of his siblings, he reacts to stressful situations with a brave front, attempting to push people away so they won't see him at his worst state.

This is one of the common symptoms of an avoidant attachment disorder - an attachment style that causes people to push others away if they get too close, avoiding emotional closeness and being uncomfortable expressing vulnerability to others. I interpret Rolan as having this kind of attachment style, which is often formed from neglect or abuse as a child, resulting in a self-sufficient but emotionally cold person. It can lead to the breakdowns of close relationships, as evidenced by Rolan pushing away his surviving sibling (potentially in order to save himself the grief of having to go through their death again). People with this disorder often cut off people before they can be cut off, in order to save themselves the pain of being abandoned again.

Some recognize the negative impact of their behaviors more than most, and though Rolan never comments on it, it can be inferred that he feels some measure of guilt for the way he behaves. If convinced to lay off of his surviving sibling, he immediately apologizes, recognizing his mistake.

[Cal: Do you wish it was me who died? Instead of Lia?]

[Rolan: Gods no, that's not what I meant. Never, Cal. Never!] [Devnote: Realizes what he's just said. Backtracking, apologizing, sincere]

[Rolan: Shit. I'm sorry.] [Devnote: Disgusted with himself and what he's just said. Looking away, sincere apology]

[Cal: Me too.]

We can see here that Rolan IS capable of self-reflection and guilt - it just takes more than a nudge to get it out of him. He says as much if you manage to rescue both siblings, thanking you and apologizing for his behavior - not an empty apology, or made out of necessity, but a genuine, heartfelt admission of guilt and gratitude. This kind of mature response from him says a lot about his character, and hints at a capacity for further growth in Act 3.

As Cal says, Rolan can be stubborn, but he's never malicious. I see this as an indicator of the immense guilt he holds inside him - though he externalizes his rage towards anyone and everyone, deep down, the person he blames the most is himself.

Which leads me directly into a talk about perfectionism, one of Rolan's defining character traits.

Rolan, at his core, is a perfectionist. The feelings of failure for not being able to save his siblings, the arrogance that belies a certain type of self-hatred, and a willingness to attack others in order to deflect from his own vulnerability - all of these traits tie heavily into perfectionism, which Rolan consistently displays traits of. At the start of the game, he spends every line with the player bragging about how he and Lorroakan are going to become household names, how they will boast of this meeting to others. To an extent, I'm sure he believes it. He's just been invited to what he considers to be a prestigious apprenticeship, despite everyone having considered him a failure. Naturally, he's excited despite the trauma of Elturel and Avernus, and wants to get to Lorroakan immediately in order to fulfill his destiny (he refers to it as his destiny several times throughout the game).

This makes what happens next all the more tragic.

Part 4 - Baldur's Gate, Lorroakan, and ending the Cycle of Abuse

Picture this - you've been rejected, abandoned, considered a lost cause for most of your life, accepted only by the siblings you just barely avoided losing forever. But the journey was worth it. You're finally here, in the city you've dreamed of, studying under who in your opinion is one of the most powerful and respected wizards in the world.

Then you get there, and you don't learn a thing. Your teacher asks you nonsensical questions and beats you as a punishment when you're wrong. It's unsurprising that when the player enters Sorcerous Sundries, that Rolan seems a bit more dejected than usual.

Much has been said about the depiction of abuse in media, but as a survivor of domestic violence, I found Rolan's reaction and justification of his abuse very accurate for someone suffering from DV. True to his personality, the very first thing he does is deny that anything's wrong, continuing his trend of burying his emotions in the hope that they'll go away.

[Player: I know the marks of subjugation. Your face - what happened?]

[Rolan: Nothing for you to worry about.] [Devnote: Master Lorroakan hurt him, but he doesn't want to say]

[Narrator: *His voice catches. Something's wrong here.*]

Survivors of DV often feel great shame towards their abuse, often blaming themselves and refusing to speak about it out of fear of appearing vulnerable. True to that, Rolan doesn't say anything about what Lorroakan's doing it, resorting to another common tactic for abuse survivors - implying what's happening without directly stating that the abuse is occurring. This is often out of fear, especially if the victim is still close to the abuser - in this case, Rolan not wanting to jeopardize his apprenticeship, or possibly be abused further for disclosing it to someone else.

[Rolan: Be very sure before you make to visit Lorroakan. He's got a beastly temper.] [Devnote: Sounds a bit disappointed in the player]

[Rolan: Master Lorroakan is... a difficult man.] [Devnote: Gently touches bruised face, distant]

Abuse survivors often hold a great deal of guilt for 'allowing' themselves to be abused, more so if the abuser considers them weak or easy to manipulate. There's often a stigma - "why didn't you just leave? You knew it was bad, yet you stayed, so there must be some blame on your part." This is not an uncommon belief amongst survivors, and through his journal entries, it can be inferred that Rolan holds a similar belief. Rolan's journal, and his VA's fantastic reading of it, can be found here. Rolan is clearly aware that what's being done to him is wrong, but he persists - in my opinion, partially because he believes it's worth the benefits involved, and partially because he feels a responsibility towards his siblings to succeed after 'failing' them so tragically before. Again, perfectionism, guilt, internalized self-hatred: easy traits for a horrible man like Lorroakan to take advantage of.

There are a few possible endings for Rolan here, the first being if you side against the Nightsong with Lorroakan.

The thing about abuse, as Larian so excellently portrays it, is that it is often perpetuated in cycles. A person who's been hurt is more likely to hurt others, whether as a response to their pain, or in an attempt to spread their misery in order to feel less alone. Though not all survivors become perpetrators themselves, many perpetrators are survivors themselves. Rolan is no different - if Nightsong is captured, and Lorroakan is killed in the fight, he will immediately attempt to cage the Nightsong himself and harness her immortality. This could easily be seen as an attempt to get strong enough that no one can ever hurt or take advantage of him again.

When the player next long rests, Rolan will be found dead, having been killed by Aylin - perhaps a mercy, to avoid him from becoming just the same as Lorroakan.

But the player who cares for Rolan wouldn't let this happen to him, right?

Rolan's attitude towards the player gradually changes over time, but nothing shows his growth more than his good ending, where you save Cal and Lia and side with the Nightsong. When you bring Nightsong to the tower, Rolan will be shocked, in disbelief that the Nightsong was a person all along. He turns against Lorroakan on the spot despite the other man's threats to ruin his life (a common tactic employed by abusers to control their victims).

[Lorroakan: Boy! At the ready. Once I've taken control of the aasimar, she must go directly into the caging runes.]

[Rolan: No, Master Lorroakan. I would have never assisted you if I knew you planned such horrors.]

[Rolan: You lied to get the Nightsong here. Made us all believe she was nothing but a relic. I have seen what true leadership can accomplish - but never under your tutelage.]

[Lorroakan: Watch your tongue, you child! I could make it so that no wizard in the realm will touch you.]

[Rolan: If they're all like you, I think that sounds like an excellent bargain.]

It takes an immense amount of courage to stand up to one's abuser, so to see Rolan so bravely stand against the man who hurt him was a positive surprise to me. It also shows just how much the player has changed Rolan for the better - your leadership and selflessness has inspired him, given him the bravery to stand against his abuser. It's a powerful scene, and I admit that watching it brought a tear to my eye, brief as it was. Few people get the chance to take revenge on their abusers, so it was cathartic to see Rolan thunderwaving him onto the balcony before letting Aylin snap his spine.

After the fight, Rolan thanks the player, finally feeling safe enough after his abuser's death to reveal what happened to him. Though it's implied that he feels some shame for being victimized, much of it is likely from the shock of the sudden event, and by the next day he's regained much of his enthusiasm - he still has the ego, but with less arrogance and more acceptance of the player's presence. Rolan's growth, from hating and mistrusting the player to eventually trusting them enough to show his true, kind self to them, is what really made me fall in love with him and his character arc.

Ultimately, Rolan's story isn't just about learning to lay down your pride and accept help from others - it's about abandoning perfectionism and elitism, accepting your own faults, and choosing to grow as a person. For Rolan, the player begins as an annoying, meddlesome force, someone who "moralizes" to him about saving others when he wants no part in doing what's considered "right". By the end of the game, he realizes just how lucky he is to have you in his life - without the player's influence, he could have easily gone down the worst path, the path of narcissism, ego, and disregard for others. But because of a string of coincidences, he was saved from that fate, and was allowed to grow and accept that there's enough room in his heart for more than just the few people that care about him. He learns to lay down the perfectionism, accept that making mistakes is a part of change, and feel his feelings for what they are - whether they're gratitude, fear, or even sadness.

For someone who struggles with avoidant attachment disorder, seeing Rolan's character change throughout the game greatly inspired me to change the way I was approaching my own relationships with people. Avoidant attachment disorder is not talked about very often, both in the medical field and in everyday life, and people suffering from it are often misunderstood or considered to be 'lost causes' - to see Rolan so capable of change inspired me to change myself, and I'm sure I wasn't the only one who felt this way.

When he takes over Ramazith's Tower, Rolan decides to distribute Lorroakan's knowledge to the world, and tells you about his plans to open a library. This is the most obvious sign that he's changed - the player's willingness to help him despite getting little or nothing in exchange has inspired him, and he becomes a kinder, more open person. He learns to trust again, to love again. It's unclear what happens afterwards, as he's not present in the epilogue, but the heartwarming conclusion to his arc can be seen in the issue of the Baldur's Mouth Gazette after Lorroakan's death -

Despite everything, Rolan makes it to the end, having vanquished the trials in front of him with the help of the player. He gets his tower, his knowledge, and shares it with the realms, finally able to realize that he's worthy and deserving of a happy life.

Thank you to Larian for bringing Rolan's story to life, to Mr. Taylor for his excellent portrayal of this character, and to all the Rolan fans for showing him so much love every single day.

I have met so many amazing and talented friends from the community around this character, and I'll forever be grateful for everyone who showed him the love I feel towards him.

I can be found on twitter at @gimblebock.

#rolan #rolan bg3 #bg3 rolan #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 #rolan cal lia #lorroakan #bg3 lore #long post

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cuntdevil · 1 month ago

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★ VISCERAL CHOKEHOLD.

no one ever thought you would make it this far, and maybe you wouldn't have without higuruma's help.

( fic demographics. ) jujutsu kaisen, higuruma hiromi, dark content & sexually mature | minors, ageless & blank blogs: do not interact & 16,232 words !

╰┈➤ law professor!higuruma hiromi & law student!reader (she/her), professor x student relationship, insecure!reader, power imbalance, large age gap, toxic & verbally abusive relationship, smut: dubcon (manipulation), dacryphilia, blowjob, minor finger sucking, hardcore degredation, face slapping, rough sex, choking, unprotected sex, featuring hitmam!fushiguro toji, private investigator!nanami, and lawyer!shiu kong as your father, alluded character death, etc.

( @murderofravens said . . . ) hello lovely!! . . . since you're taking requests i was wondering if i could please have a hiromi higuruma piece? perhaps something along the lines of him being reader's law professor? with power dynamics, lots of tension and maybe some angst, and smut if you don't mind? you could make it toxic as well . . . no pressure, of course, thank you so much and hope ur doing okay! <3

╰┈➤ author's response: this is the shit im talking about !! babes, you got my mind enlargening because this was such a good request that the plot jumped right onto the screen for me. mwah !! i hope this satisfies you !!

When people talk about your father, they speak nothing but praises, saying how he’s such a beast in court. They glorify his name and how he's gotten the innocent to roam freely on the streets again. They praise him on his judgment, bringing justice to the right people and condemning the guilty in the process. His voice would boom in court as he swayed the jury’s mind, his deep and commanding tone something that had people right under his thumb. He had great relationships with the judges and made plenty of enemies with lawyers who secretly sought to be like him. When women heard his name, they were scampering in hopes to get a moment alone with him.

He often found himself perched at the bar, sitting on a stool as he leaned against the counter where the bartender would pass him a glass of sake. It was a little celebration ritual that he had whenever he won a case, which was quite often. He grabs his pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his brown suit jacket, lighting one up as the butt of it would sizzle and red sparks would light up ablaze. He’d buy a drink for himself and the man he just set free, this one being Toji Fushiguro.

“I don’t think I could thank you enough,” the man with a scarred lip smiles, taking the glass of bourbon and barely putting it to his lips. He appreciated the courtesy, but he didn’t really enjoy drinking. Didn’t find pleasure in it. Shiu could see that, noticing how the glass always rested in his hands and when he did bring it to his lips, it stayed at the same level.

“Then don’t,” he chuckled, downing his glass in one go. “Bourbon not your cup of tea? You ordered it.”

“Yeah, I did,” Toji shrugged. “Didn’t want to make you feel bad to be the only one drinking.”

“Well, I still am,” Shiu chuckles. The rest of the night goes without much conversation. Shiu drowns out the stress of today’s case, letting it dissipate with shots of whatever liqueur he was craving next and the buzz of nicotine blackening his lungs. He loved the scene a bar could give him, a chance to people-watch strangers and get their life story just from how they spend their time. His favorite person to watch was a woman around his age, always here around the same time he was, just like clockwork.

At first, he thought she was one of those women that liked to flock around him after learning that he was a well-established lawyer. However, he doesn’t quite think so. Her eyes would flicker to him every so often and they always seemed shy— not the one anyone would try to feign. She’d grow easily flustered, but never unmoving. Neither of them had taken the first step at approaching each other, only enjoying the lingering gaze when the other thought they weren’t looking.

“For some hot shot in the courtroom, you seem pretty pathetic right now,” Toji chuckles, finally taking a swig of the bourbon in his hand. He found the scene grotesque, watching his lawyer that was so domineering in the courtroom get all shy for a woman. Watching the both of them eye-fuck each other made him nauseaus. “Just go up to her.”

“Mmm,” Shiu shuffles on the stool, eyes trailing back to the stunning woman. He’s always talked himself out of it, even now. “It doesn’t seem like the right moment.”

Toji can’t help but chuckle at that, eyes flickering from Shiu to the woman. “Right now seems like the perfect moment actually.”

However, Shiu remains still, belligerent on his choices. Considering the lengths that Shiu went to ensure that Toji didn’t land himself in jail, it seemed fair that the lad try to do him a favor in helping his lawyer land the woman of his dreams, even if it’ll only be for the night. The grazing of the chair legs against the wooden floor calls for Shiu’s attention as Toji stands up. “If you don’t, then I will. She seems to be my type as well.”

“What?” Shiu’s quick to his feet, watching how Toji sauntered over to the beauty herself. There’s no stopping the taller man, seeing how he approaches her and is quick to strike up conversation. Her eyes light up talking to Toji, and Shiu’s about to lose hope believing that the man had swept the woman off of her feet. He takes his seat back at the stool, back facing the two of them when he hears feet approaching him. He feels like he’s back in his teens again, shying away from what he wants.

“Did you come back to gloat?” he asks, beckoning the bartender over for another glass. A soft and feminine chuckle calls for his attention, that glum feeling quickly reverting to disbelief. The fine dime herself standing right before him as she’s fidgeting with the bangles around her wrist. She’s prettier up close, her curly hair out and sporting an afro as it rises in volume. Beautiful skin that the blue lights don't do justice to her skin tone. Her lips shine under the light when she smiles, lined in a shade or two darker than her complexion underneath the gloss.

She’s nervous, he can tell, but she bats her eyelashes cutely as she tilts her head to the side. “No, actually I came to see if you’d like to have a drink with me.”

Shiu has come to learn that her name’s (Y/M), a foreigner from America visiting Japan for vacation, but considering moving here permanently, trying to see if she could possibly qualify to teach English. (Y/M) learns that Shiu is a lawyer who’s contemplating on opening up his own law firm at some point, and that she’s managed to captivate the eyes of someone who could potentially financially secure her for the rest of her life if she’s willing to go on a couple of dates with him to see where this will lead. Toji’s long forgotten by now, but Shiu makes a mental note to thank the bastard when he gets the chance. Toji has found his way out the door shortly after his exchange with the woman, sure that Shiu’s got the bill covered.

Shiu brings (Y/M) to his house not too long after. Hands roaming her body as her moans make his body melt into hers. It was an unforgettable night and it created a lasting future, where Shiu never planned to start his legacy so soon. However, with (Y/M)’s announcement that she’s pregnant brings him nothing but joy the moment it falls from her beautiful lips. He reassures her that she’ll never have to worry about a thing. And he’s made sure to keep his promise for the most part, rarely being her source of stress despite the amount of disagreements they’ve had. He is always trying to appease her in every way possible. It seems like the uncontrollable slowing the both of them down, one of them being you.

Shiu always wanted children, a legacy to carry out his name with someone he loves. While he never anticipated having a child so soon within the relationship that’s barely started, he was more than ecstatic to have you, much to (Y/M)’s surprise. Shiu had ensured that her stay in Japan became permanent, buying a ring to decorate her left ring finger and marrying (Y/M) as soon as possible. He made her pregnancy a breeze, hiring a helper inside his home to aid with the household duties. When (Y/M) finally went into labor, Shiu made sure that she had time for herself during postpartum, not enjoying how she’d curl up in a ball and cry her eyes out in his chest, believing that she’d be a horrible parent.

The issue wasn’t that you were a difficult child to take care of. No, you were easy, and maybe that was the issue itself. You were too easy. A saint and the apple of both of your parents’ eyes. The problem came when you were older and there wasn’t anything particularly… extraordinary about you. You didn’t have anything that really captivated anyone’s eye— no talent, no hobby that you found yourself hyper fixated in, nothing that called a spark within you. You were average in your studies to say the least. Shiu made sure to hire tutors whenever you were struggling with a certain subject. You didn’t really care for afterschool clubs or anything involving sports— you didn’t like to sweat, yuck. No, you just enjoyed mundane and locking yourself inside of your room despite both of your parents’ persistence in spending time with you.

When people spoke about Shiu Kong, it was all praise and glory. However, when they spoke about his daughter, his only child, they hesitated to come up with the right words to say. One finger on their lips as they pondered how to sound polite. You were just average. There was nothing special about you and because of that, no one saw the potential that you could possibly have.

Unfortunately, they never took the time to realize how their constant scrutinizing would impact you. How when they whispered about you, you would take notice of their quick glances immediately. How their smiles never met their eyes when they spoke to you and their compliments were fake, their pitch a bit too high to sound authentic when you showed them something you were doing. You hated it and wished that one day, someone would tell you what they thought right in front of your face with confidence. But, that day has yet to come.

It brings you to shame that your parents can’t even be truthful to you. How they spoke to you so lovingly for years about how you had such a bright future ahead of you, but behind closed doors, they sounded concerned for your future.

When Shiu and your mother believed that you were sound asleep, having tucked you in and told you goodnight already, they were downstairs doing their habitual night time ritual. Sitting at the dining table, they’re next to each other with a glass of red wine in front of them. Shiu swirls it as he looks inside the bulbous glass, watching it swivel around at his motions. His wife was sitting next to him as she had yet to touch her glass. Something was plaguing her mind and he knew that he had to pry it out of her with a simple question. “What’s on your mind, honey?”

Finally does she let out the heavy sigh that’s been residing heavily on her chest, forcing her down into a slump. Her posture straightens from what you can see, peeking from just around the corner. You’ve gotten better at this, seeing how they’ve yet to catch you in a heartbeat. “I’m worried about her, Shiu.”

“About what exactly?” He knows exactly what, but he always found it better when (Y/M) spoke out her thoughts, said everything from the depths of her soul. When she couldn’t find the right words, he’d help her scour for them.

“About her future,” (Y/M) sighs, afraid to admit this. “She’s not a very bright child.”

At that, your eyes widen as you let out a gasp. You had to cover your mouth in fear that they heard you, but they’re so immersed with each other, it leaves you in the clear. Your heart starts racing as your feet move involuntarily. Your steps manage to remain gentle as you climb them back and head back to your room. Unbeknownst to them that their daughter had overheard their conversation, Shiu and (Y/M) keep talking. Shiu’s head tilting in concern at the confession as he frowns. “What do you mean by that? (Y/N)’s a very…”

(Y/M) gives Shiu a knowing look, proving her point. “See? You can’t even finish your sentence.”

“Yes, but our child isn’t a dunce,” Shiu scolds. “Sure, her reports don’t reflect positive grades from time to time, but she gets the help she needs.”

“And what happens when she can’t get that assistance, hm?” (Y/M) retorts. “What happens when she takes her exams and they don’t positively reflect on her homework scores and project reports, then what?”

“You’re being ridiculous, (Y/M),” Shiu raises his voice, setting the wine glass down at his wife’s ridiculing of their daughter. “She’s only eight years old, and she’s not dumb. She just has a hard time grasping certain concepts. It’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”

“Yes, but what about everything else?” (Y/M) rebuttals. “She doesn’t partake in the activities and events other kids want to participate in. She doesn’t show interest in any clubs or sports. All she does is lock herself up in the room all day when she gets the chance! She doesn’t even want to eat dinner with us!”

“Yes because her mother is calling her dumb behind her back!”

You’ve never witnessed or heard your parents argue, even on that same night. You immediately shut the doors and climbed back underneath the covers when you were back in your bedroom, the pillows clogging your ears and silencing everything as you sobbed yourself to sleep. The next morning your dad was nowhere to be seen, having left for work early because he couldn’t stand to be in the same vicinity as his wife.

(Y/M) felt worse as the day went by. Shiu always made sure that the weekends were reserved for family time and for him to willingly head to work, she knew she was in the wrong. Looking over at you, it didn’t make it any better. Especially when your fork clinked against the plate as you finished your food, carrying the empty dish to the sink as the silence of both you and your mother ate at you. “Where’s daddy?”

She took your plate, turning on the water to rinse it off. “At work.”

“He’s never at work on the weekends,” you note, stating the obvious. Your mother could only sighed, “There’s a first to everything, my dear.”

From that point forward, you always tried to put in a little more effort. You took up clubs and activities that you found interesting, committing to them for the entirety of your childhood all the way to graduating high school. Though, nothing really changed as you never found anything that sparked joy within you.

You’ve found that out of your two parents, you found yourself a true daddy’s girl, enjoying his company the most. Even if the two of you would just watch crappy television shows in silence. It brought you comfort. So, when it was time for you to choose what you wanted to major in, you had finally decided on something— that you’d follow in your father’s footsteps.

The topic of college became more frequent once you hit high school. (Y/M) and Shiu would always ask you what you wanted to do, or what you were thinking about doing, but you always shrugged and said that you were undecided. Your father always kept such a nonchalant gaze before looking back at his phone, but you’d always see that annoying glint in your mother’s eyes. (Un)fortunately for her, in junior year, you finally made a choice.

“I think I’m interested in pursuing law.” You said it so nonchalantly that it caught both of your parents off guard, having them stop in their tracks. You— you want to pursue law?

When Shiu said he wanted a child to carry out his legacy, he didn’t specifically mean that they had to follow in his exact footsteps. He meant he wanted a legacy where those who descend after him all end up in a decent position. Frankly, he didn’t think you were cut out for law. You didn’t have the personality for it. You weren’t timid, but you were quiet and you never really raised your voice for anything. You had to be someone domineering in the courtroom and he didn’t see you as one. However, that didn’t mean it was too late for you.

(Y/M) didn’t see your potential. She had made that very clear all those years ago, and people always feigned brightness when it came to you. However, if you were serious about this, he’d help you every step of the way and help you where you needed to go. (Y/M) wore an incredulous look all over her face, standing in disbelief as she choked on her words, wanting to talk you out of it. However, Shiu beat her to it.

“Okay,” he spoke, reciprocating the same nonchalance you sported. “Do you have any idea which university you want to attend?”

With your father’s eyes on you now, granting you the attention you never thought you’d get, you grow shy as you squirm in place. “I was thinking about Kyoto University.”

“Ah, you wanna follow in your old man’s footsteps, I see,” he winks at you, chuckling as he straightens his posture. “Well, you work on what you need to do to apply, I’ll sort out everything else.”

“Mhm,” you hum before trotting back up the stairs. When you’re finally gone, (Y/M) finally breaks the silence.

“Shiu, you can’t be serious,” she chastises her husband for entertaining you. (Y/M) had come to accept who you are, that you’re just an average girl and that perhaps you didn’t need to make it as big as her husband is. However, for you to pursue law? It sounded ridiculous. There was no way you’d be able to survive such strenuous studies, especially in one of the top schools for law. They had a rigorous law program.

“Oh, I am,” Shiu sits up. “If she says she wants to pursue law, then let her.”

“Aren’t you afraid that she’ll crash and burn?” (Y/M) hates how he’s been so monotone about everything. How he doesn’t even seem to be concerned for your well being. How is he so willing for you to just make a decision that seems so abrupt? Just a couple of weeks ago, you were still indecisive and today you just got up and decided that you want to become a lawyer? (Y/M) shakes her head, dropping what she’s doing as she rests her elbows down on the kitchen counter, shutting her eyes. “I can’t believe you're entertaining this.”

“You can’t believe I’m entertaining what?” Shiu cocks up an eyebrow. “You can’t believe I’m supporting our child’s endeavors? Weren’t you the one worried for her future?”

“You’re not even listening to me!” (Y/M) groans. “I’m glad that she’s made up her mind, but law? Shiu, don’t be ridiculous, you know she wouldn’t last over a month in those classes.”

“I bet she’ll last the entire year,” Shiu challenges. “And even if she doesn’t, we’ll support whatever she does next.”

“Yeah, until your bank account is drained, then what will we do?” She mutters, scoffing.

Shiu’s fist bangs against the table, frightening (Y/M) and making her jump. He points at her, a harsh glare in his eyes as his dark pupils stare back at hers. “Y’know, I love you, (Y/M). I do, really and truly. But I don’t like the person you’ve become. Fix it before we’re no more.”

—

Shiu would go through the greatest depths of hell for you. He’s come to learn this the moment he finds himself on the phone, contacting the board of admissions in regards to you. And people would question his faith for you, ask him if he really thinks you wouldn't be able to get in on your own, but he only wants to secure a spot for you. You said you wanted to go to Kyoto University, so he’ll make sure you get into it. It’s not that hard when you're an alumni who still makes monetary contributions.

It takes nothing, but a few phone calls to have everything settled. Yet, you still work on your college essays, having your father read them over for you before getting the okay. Considering the growth you’ve had over the years, Shiu can’t say he’s too concerned about you. It’s not like you never tried, using the resources he’s given you each time you needed assistance with your work. Despite your aloof attitude, you have drive. And it makes him feel ashamed that your mother can’t see that within you.

When you get the letter from Kyoto University, you’re running to your dad first. Meeting him at his law firm and asking him. Never have you voluntarily come to the firm, but when his secretary is telling him that his daughter is waiting for him outside of his office, there’s a spark of joy ignited in him. Within your eyes, there’s glee and excitement as you jump into his arms, telling him that you got accepted. His arms wrapped around you as you jumped into his arms, letting him spin you around in this moment of celebration. A genuine smile on your face as you come to terms with your decision, ready to put in the work in getting what you want.

That summer when you graduate, you put away your plans of leisure to spend most of your days in the office. You had packed breakfast, lunch and dinner, your dad taking extraneous hours at work. You also have your laptop and a notebook with you, wanting to gather as much information from your father as well as having to complete summer assignments for your upcoming courses. He’s proud of you, seeing you go the extra mile and taking it seriously.

Your mother’s also seeing how you’re taking this seriously, finally convinced of your choices. She starts waking up with the both of you, preparing your meals and sneaking in extra snacks inside your lunch. Your relationship with your mother has always been something rocky, where the two of you could never truly see each other eye-to-eye. You never felt like her daughter, only someone she scrutinized under a spectacle as she tried creating you in her own image. And you never made her feel like a mother, not accepting her affection and never seeking out her comfort.

(Y/M) remembers how when you first started your period, you’d rather talk to your father about it. You cried in his lap about the boy who told everyone in the class that you were bleeding out of your vagina. Shiu tried pushing you to confide in your mother, but you refused and forced him to go shopping for menstrual products. (Y/M) had to write down a list of specific products for Shiu to pick up while going to the store with you. Your mother never had thought about the way she treated you until seeing you going to work with your father. She never truly considered how you felt, and though she felt like it was too late, she was trying to put in more effort in showing you that she truly did love you.

When the summer was over and it was move-in day, (Y/M) and Shiu both took time off to send you off, helping you bring in your belongings and sort everything out just how you wanted. And when it came time for them to leave, Shiu held onto you, afraid to let go. You chuckled, trying to pry your father off of you. “You’re acting like you’ll never see me again.”

“We might not,” Shiu sniffled, hiding his face in your shirt in an attempt to wipe away his tears. You squirmed in his hold until he finally let go of you, seeing how red his eyes were. It wasn’t like you weren’t going to miss your parents, you would. However, it just hasn’t settled in yet.

(Y/M) stood behind you both awkwardly as your father gave you words of encouragement, having you promise him that if you needed any help, you’d contact him — even if it’s to get away with murder. She finally intervenes when she sees that her husband won’t pry away from you anytime soon. “(Y/N), can I talk to you for a second— privately?”

“Yeah, okay.” With a cock of your eyebrow, you nod hesitantly as you step away from your father and head out of the room. She’s fidgeting with her hands, eyes failing to meet yours. She takes a deep breath, sucking in her tears.

“I want to—” Your mother chokes up, voice trailing off before she’s clearing her voice. “Y’know what, nevermind. Just know that I’m going to make it up to you. I love you, baby, and I’m very proud of you.”

You don’t know what she means with ‘I’m going to make it up to you,’ but you accept her hug. You accept the tight grip she wraps around your body, finally finding comfort in her touch. Even if it’s just for the moment.

College is freeing to a certain extent. No longer under the scrutiny and judgment of family and around strangers, you feel like you’re open to do whatever you want. Legally an adult, where you no longer need the consent of your parents to partake in things that they’d show their concerns over. You can make the wrong choices and come to regret it later without any berating, and you can make a schedule that best works for you.

You made the right decision on selecting your classes early, having an ideal schedule— Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays. With Mondays and Fridays off, it gave you time to study and catch up on things that you might’ve fallen behind on. Four classes within the semester, one of them being a fast-paced class that only lasted eight weeks. Two classes on Tuesday, one on Wednesday and Thursday. It seemed like something you’d be able to manage.

However, some people didn’t share your same ideologies, not planning ahead as you sit in front of those people right now— and it was more so a person. You were sitting with three other incoming freshmen, Itadori Yuuji, Kugisaki Nobara, and Fushiguro Megumi. Of the three, Nobara was the only one in the law program with you. Yuuji was undecided and Megumi was majoring in Biochemistry. The boy with the puppy dog eyes and salmon-toned hair seemed like an angel from the time you’ve spoken to them since they’ve decided to adopt you in their little crew, but not very wise when it came to decision making. Now, you’re watching him struggle to find good classes to take as all the professors left seem to have low ratings. Megumi has his face down in his phone, ignoring Nobara’s snickers at Yuuji’s stupidity, well accustomed to their banters.

“We told you to sign up for classes early,” Nobara points out. “Hell, we even set up a date where we could do it together, so we’d have days that we can spend together.”

“Yeah, but you know I couldn’t make that day,” Yuuji pouts.

“But when we tried rescheduling, you were hellbent on us not waiting up for you.” Yuuji sighs, knowing that Nobara’s right. Groaning, he can only accept defeat as he scrolls and tries to make a schedule for himself that’s someone appeasing. “Just tell me what days you guys will be free.”

It gives you some solace that you won’t be completely alone, having Nobara in some of your classes providing you a sense of relief as you can both study alongside each other when the time comes. None of your high school friends had applied to Kyoto and some of the students from your old school who were attending weren’t people in your major or you weren’t too fond of. It makes that first day of classes more bearable the moment you step foot in it, finding a seat not too far from the front but not immediately in the back. You set your bag on the seat to the right of you, saving it for your newfound friend when she finally makes it in.

Higuruma Hiromi— you vaguely remember the name as you could swear that he was a colleague of your father. When you had chosen him as a professor, the thought never crossed your mind until now that you’re sitting inside the lecture room and waiting for his arrival. You’re amongst five other students who’ve arrived early as they’re putting out their laptops, textbooks and a manila folder. What’s the manila folder for— Shit! You immediately slump back in your chair, eyes shutting as you hold your breath. You had completely forgotten to print out the summer assignment as it was instructed for you to do. You had it saved on a USB drive, but you don’t know if this one little slip up will be easily dismissed. So much for starting off your classes strong.

Just in that moment does Nobara walk in, spotting you in a flash and climbing up the steps to greet you. You lift up your bag, not before dropping it in front of you and wailing at your stupid mistake. Taking a seat as she unpacks her stuff, Nobara knits her eyebrows together, something evidently wrong with you. “What’s wrong?”

“I forgot to print out the summer assignment,” you groan, simultaneously as you hear a bunch of keys jingling and a set of heavy shoes clunking on the marble tiles. Lifting your head up, you can vividly remember him now. Short and dark brown hair that always looks stringy. He always looked tired or bored whenever you saw him in your youth, his small brown pupils that never gave you a look of emotion whenever you were around. He’d always give you a weak ‘hello’ out of politeness before his attention was fixated back on your father, talking about God knows what.

Now you’re taking closer notice of him. Average height and a slender build as he walks towards his desk, letting out a heavy sigh that has all the students silent. It’s still not time for classes to start, plenty of students starting to trickle in from behind. You always thought he was paler, but there’s a tint in his skin. He dresses professionally, wearing a typical black suit and tie with a sunflower pin on his left shoulder to signify his previous status as an attorney.

From what you can remember about Higuruma, he was a fierce attorney just like your father and he only fought for those who were wrongfully accused. Him and your father sat along the same boat of men that were greatly admired in the courtroom. You don’t remember hearing that he retired from being a lawyer and your father never mentioned him working here. You wondered if the two had some sort of falling out. You thought the two were close friends.

“Don’t worry,” Nobara tries assuring you. “I’m pretty sure he’ll understand. You did do it.”

When class is ready to start, the room is packed with over one hundred students. People are still shuffling to take their belongings out of their bags as Higuruma is getting the projector up and running, giving the students just a little bit more time before lecture begins. You have your laptop open with your textbook set to the side as well as a spiral notebook and a pencil pouch. While Nobara’s words had given you some sort of comfort, sure that he would be understanding, it still didn’t take away that nagging sensation in your chest.

He cleared his throat, finally taking a stand and adjusting his suit jacket. His voice remained calm, yet it boomed and called the attention of everyone from the mic pinned to the jacket. “Good morning, everyone! And welcome to JGVT1101, the History of the Japanese Government.

“My name is Professor Higuruma and please address me as such,” he continues. “This will be one of your first classes with me, but surely not your last as you will be stuck with me throughout your years enrolled within the law program. I will not dive deep about my personal life, just know that I used to be a lawyer and attended this very same university when I was around your age.

“I will not lie to you and say that each and every one of you will make it to be a lawyer, but I will say that in order to pass my class it is vital that you do everything I say and complete assignments how I expect them to. Starting with the summer assignment, everyone passes them up.”

You feel uneasy as everyone else seems to have their assignments printed out, even Nobara as she hands it to the person on her left as they all pile up into one stack at the front. You’re fidgeting with the bracelets on your hand, pulling at the elastic as you try to bring yourself to focus on anything else but it.

“I will have the class syllabus going around,” he further announced. “Please make sure to take one and keep it somewhere safe. It has all the assignments listed down and when they’re expected to be turned in.”

The class goes by smoothly until it’s close to the end, where Higuruma sets you guys up with a partner and assigns you to discuss one of the questions viewed on the screen. Perched at his desk, he’s checking off those who have turned in their assignment, seeing that only a few students haven’t had their names marked off. He looks through the list, noticing your name— your last name specifically. Kong. He hasn’t seen that name in a while.

“Kong (Y/N),” he calls your name, pulling the mic hooked to his jacket closer. It makes your head pop in his direction, looking him clearly in his eyes. You’ve grown a lot since the last time he’s seen you. When was that? When you were a little over twelve? He can’t quite remember, but you’ve surely grown. Features more womanly and grown in. At one point you favored your mother, then Shiu the next. Now, you’re a fine mixture of the two— though whenever he did look at you, your eyes vividly came from your father. “Can you explain to me why your paper hasn’t been submitted?”

“Oh, um…” You can feel your heart stuck inside your throat, eyes deviating away from his as you're not sure what to say. You know what to say, but did he really have to call you out in front of the entire class? “I forgot to print it out, but—”

He comes to stand, the swivel chair sliding backwards as he does, cutting your excuse short. “And this class is an example of what I don’t want. How can you expect to get anywhere in life if you show up the first day unprepared?”

“Is that really necessary?” Nobara leans into you with the scrunch of her eyebrows. “He didn’t have to call you out in front of the classroom. I’m pretty sure there’s at least one student who didn’t even complete it at all.”

“Miss Kong, if this is going to be typical behavior from you, I suggest you drop out of my class immediately.”

People around you start to chatter, some siding with the professor and some ridiculing him for calling you out like that. Nonetheless, you grow flustered as you feel all eyes on you. He’s right. If you had just remembered to print out the assignment beforehand, you wouldn’t be in this damn predicament, getting condemned before everyone. You’re only grateful that he doesn’t call your name out for the rest of the class. Only until he’s finally dismissing you all, the name he’s already set for you ringing through the air once more. “Miss Kong, please stay behind. I’d like to have a word with you.”

You can only respond with a meek ‘okay’ as everyone’s trailing outside the door. Nobara hesitates to leave you alone, but you dismiss her and assure her that you’ll be fine. You don’t know what he could possibly want from you. He’s already said what he needed during class. However, you’ll take this opportunity in hopes to plead a little bit of extra time. You just needed to print it out.

Everyone trickles out quickly, leaving the enormous room just for the two of you as you shuffle in his direction, stopping not too short of his desk. He doesn’t say anything for a second, stacking the manila folders into a neat pile and setting them inside of a cart. He clears his throat, eyes flickering to yours before they go back on the task at hand. “Do you think that a judge would accept an unprepared lawyer?”

“No,” you immediately answer, your voice low and dry.

“Then why do you think that I should accept your late paper, hm?” He pauses, expecting a response.

“Um…”

“A lawyer must always be prepared with a rebuttal,” Higuruma holds his head high. “No stuttering, um’s and uh’s in the courtroom. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Hig— Yes, Professor.”

At your slip up, Higuruma pauses. Glancing up at you with a raised eyebrow as he lets out an exasperated sigh. “How’s your father been? It’s been a while since I’ve last spoken to him.”

“He’s fine,” you shrug. “For the most part. He’s—”

“He won’t be fine if his daughter ends up a failure,” he remarks, setting the last of his stuff inside the cart, pulling up the handle as he throws you a stern look. His eyes squinting low as if daring you to challenge him. However, your mouth’s gone dry as you’re speechless.

“I— I can have it for you in the next hour.”

“Try thirty minutes,” he rebuttals. “Anything later won’t be accepted. You’re dismissed.”

You don’t hesitate to spin on your heel, hurrying out of the class. You’re practically running out, throwing the door and letting it slam shut on the way out. Higuruma chuckles, watching you rush out of the lecture hall as he finally pulls out the cart along with him. He’ll give you the courtesy of adding ten extra minutes, but seeing the determination written all over your face the moment he gave you extra time, he’s ready to bed that the thirty will be enough.

Unlike you, Higuruma remembered you clearly as the day when he saw your name on his roster. He didn’t believe it at first, wondering if your name was a common one. Surely, Shiu would’ve called him and informed him that his daughter had decided to pursue law at the same college both of them attended in their younger years. However, since Higuruma had called it quits, he hadn’t heard from Shiu since.

He never planned on retiring from being a lawyer so soon. No, there was still so much fire in him that yearned to be back on the playing field, but after his last case. He thought it was best to call it quits, the scar residing on his chest being enough motivation to do so. Days that he spent in the hospital recovering as his mother cried over his wounded body. She had warned him about his strong pursuit for justice, to be careful of what he was doing or he’d anger the wrong set of people. He knew that was the case, that being a lawyer wasn’t always the safest career. However, he was passionate about it and couldn’t let it up because the unjust wanted to live freely. Shiu could let them run around freely, but not him.

Maybe that’s why he hasn’t contacted him after all these years. Maybe there’s guilt residing on his chest after all this time. Higuruma always suspected Shiu’s involvement in his accident, but he could never find enough evidence for it. It led to Higuruma giving up his one man search forcing himself to forgive the man. He couldn’t bear the stress of being angry and having a vengeful spirit. However, seeing you really provoked that anger that he thought was long gone.

Were you to end up like your father? Higuruma highly doubted it. You were a frail little thing, and he won’t apologize when he says he agreed with your mom. Shiu had called him up one night when they were still friends, confided in him and told him that his wife didn’t believe in you. Didn’t believe that you’d make it far in life.

He’s met you and had a few conversations with you. You were only a child, yes, but the typical child would have an answer on standby when asked what they wanted to be when they grow up. You? You only shrugged your shoulders and didn’t say anything more. He was sure that you’d find a place where you’re wanted— needed— but in law?

Higuruma scoffed to himself. Law did not need another Kong.

—

“How dare he?” Nobara stabbed at her lunch in anger, the chopsticks ferociously dividing the apple into two pieces in one go. She seemed to be angrier than you about the entire ordeal despite the fact that you told her he had given you a second chance and you managed not to mess it up this time. “I had talked to a few other students and they had said they didn’t submit it, so why did he come after you? I hate a hardass that’s so unfair. How did he even call himself a lawyer?”

You didn’t want to voice your speculations. And you didn’t want to voice that you knew him outside of your classes. You didn’t want her perspective on you to shift, liking how the girl was ready to take up for you. Her bottom lip jutted out in anger, an adorable pout settling on her features as she shoved the piece of fruit in her mouth.

Megumi sat beside Nobara, for once, interested in the conversation. “I don’t know, that’s weird. I would report him to the Dean.”

You scrunch your eyebrows in between your lunch, still chewing your food. “It was just the first day of classes,” you fan off the situation. “Maybe my name was the first option and he just wanted to make an example to set the tone for the rest of the semester.”

You hadn’t told them every aspect of what happened when he had called you to stay behind. That would reveal too much and surely set Nobara off in flames, seeing how red her face is with anger right now. You were really hoping that this would be a one time occurrence as you didn’t want to have a professor with whatever personal vendetta they had against you. Higuruma was vile and cruel with his words, where they felt completely unnecessary and targeted. However, you pushed your intuition back, not wanting to start the very first year of college off on a bad note.

“Maybe,” Megumi shrugs. “But you don’t want it to turn into some big thing. Just be careful, okay?”

Later that night, your mom calls you. Picking up the phone, you hold it to your ears as your voice is low. Your roommate had already fallen asleep while you were up, starting ahead on your class readings. “Hey, mom. It’s late, why’re you still up?”

“I should ask you the same,” your mom’s voice sounds. “Don’t tell me you’ve already started studying? Have the professors already started teaching?”

“Yeah, they have,” you chuckled. “Plus, I want to stay on top of things.”

“I just wanted to call in and check on you!” She sounds happy on the other line, and you can’t help but notice the silence in the background. From the moment you got here and they had to leave, whenever your mom initiated a phone call, your dad was always next to her. “Hope you’re settling in well.”

“I am,” you sigh. “Is dad not with you right now?”

“No,” your mom yawns. You can hear the ruffling of the bed sheets move as she’s climbing into bed. “He’s working late tonight.”

“Oh, well,” you start, Higuruma coming to mind. “Mom, do you remember Higuruma?”

There’s a long pause on the other line. Your mom’s heart rating picking up a beat as she hadn’t heard that name in a long while. You have to call out her name again to snap her outside of whatever trance that she was under. “Oh, sorry, dear. Yeah, I remember him. He used to be one of your dad’s closest colleagues. Why?”

“He’s a professor at Kyoto University,” you inform her. “I actually have him for one of my classes.”

“He is?” Your mom’s attention has been called, sitting up in the bed as she’s wide awake. “He hasn’t bothered you by any chance, has he?”

Her question catches you off guard, making you wonder if your mother or your dad have set people to watch over you on campus. More so, your father. How could you possibly know if Higuruma was bothering you within less than twenty four hours? However, you try to play it cool, ready to deny her concerns. “No, I was just wondering… We haven’t seen him in a while and I wanted to know why he never visited anymore?”

Your mother loses her guard for a moment, becoming candid with you— er, giving you half the truth. “Oh, well, after his accident, Higuruma decided to quit law. And we tried reaching out, but we never heard from him again.”

“Accident?”

“Yeah,” your mom hums. “Some guys didn’t like their sentence and once they were let out, they came after him. Scared Higuruma shirtless, I guess, so he decided to switch career paths.”

“Oh,” you gasped. “I never knew that.”

“You were really young at the time,” Mom says. “We didn’t want you to burden you with something like that.”

Shortly after, you and your mom are bidding each other good night before hanging up the phone. You’re left speechless at the newfound information that it leaves you unfocused. Shutting off your laptop and closing your textbook, you set it aside and crawl underneath the covers. Your mom, on the other hand, still sits up in the king-sized bed, pondering on what she should do next. Never did she think that Shiu’s past would come back to haunt them.

They made sure to cut all ties with the man, their plan working as the man resigned from his position as an attorney and they never heard from him again. It was planned so meticulously that to this day, Shiu and her aren’t sure whether or not Higuruma had detected it was them. Maybe he had an inkling, but if the man really wanted to go with his gut, they’d soon end up on the floor.

She didn’t want to burden her husband with the past, but was it really safe that their daughter’s in the hands of a man that they had bad blood with? Scrolling through her contacts before Shiu’s name popped up, her thumb hovered over the call button ready to click it. You said you were fine though, that he hadn’t done anything to bother you in any type of way. So, maybe she should trust your word. Shutting her eyes, (Y/M) throws the phone down on the bed, her face in her hands as she lets out a huff. “Fuck me.”

However, sleep riddles her mind before she can truly think about it. Forgetting her phone, she reaches for the night lamp, pulling at the metal string until she hears that click and the light goes off. When her head hits the pillow, she’s out like a light and the next day. She forgets all about her conversation with you.

—

You thought it would end there, but Higuruma found pleasure in your torment. Where he’s no longer calling you out in front of one hundred students, but writing snide notes in your assignments, overanalyzing everything that you do down to your vocabulary and grammar. When he asks you to stay back behind class, it’s to further chastise and criticize you for every tiny mistake that you make.

It makes you lose sleep as you’ve hours past midnight studying, the small lamp over-shining your textbooks as your upperclassman roommate, Maki Zenin, watches you with concern. Oftentimes, she’s warning you, telling you to get rest and buying you little treats to get through the day because she knows you haven’t slept. It’s become such a concern that when Nobara stops by, she tells her what’s been going on.

It’s the middle of first semester and you’re trying to complete work that’s due towards the end, trying to stay on top of all of your classes, but especially his. Maki couldn’t take it anymore, letting in the younger girl the moment she heard her knock and letting her crash through the dorm room. You don’t even notice as you’re nose deep into your assignments, an impending migraine resting on your head. Nobara snatches the textbook, throwing it to Maki’s side of the room in a rush.

“Hey! I need that!”

“No, you don’t!” Nobara immediately barks back. “(Y/N), have you ever eaten anything?”

You hesitate to answer, so you decide not to at all. Since she took your textbook, you reach for your laptop, but she proves to be even faster. Handling it gently, she shuts the screen and clutches it to her chest as her shoulders drop and tilts her head to the side. “You need to quit it, (Y/N). Not eating properly, no sleep? What’s this all about because you and I share the majority of our classes together and the work isn’t as strenuous as you’re making it seem?”

You wouldn’t cave in and confide in Nobara about your worries, failing to meet her eyes. However, she had an inkling that she knew what— or whom— had provoked you to this point. “Is it Professor Higuruma?”

You had never been a good liar apparently, always getting caught in them when you were younger, but you muster up a roll in your eyes as you scoff. “No,” it sounded so convincing that it killed the girl’s suspicion. “I just wanted to get ahead of my work and make sure I’m understanding the material.”

“Well, understanding the material won’t do you any good if you drop dead from exhaustion.” Nobara sets the laptop down on your nightstand, picking up your spiral notebooks and setting them on top of it as she scoots herself on the bed, kicking off her shoes. “We’re going to sleep.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you watch as she pulls your folded blanket from the corner of your bed and unravels it. When she tells you to move over, you do so unconsciously making space for her. “We?”

“Yes, we,” Nobara confirms. “Since you won’t listen to Maki to the point she had to stop me on the way to classes to have a mini-intervention with you, I’m going to make sure that you actually fall asleep. Now, come snuggle up. I heard cuddling helps.”

It does. You and Nobara fall asleep in each other’s hold. It was so cute to witness that Maki had taken a few pictures herself, making sure to send them to you when you wake up. Luckily for you, the next day was Friday, so you didn’t have any classes. You managed to sleep in just fine, but Nobara on the other hand? She forgot that she had a ten a.m. class and was nearly late. She had to run there in her clothes from before and the purse she had brought with her. You felt guilty for making her late, keeping her there for so long because of the mess you put on yourself. You didn’t need to put in this extra work to prove yourself. You were doing just fine in all of your classes, including Higuruma’s. So why were you doing all of this?

You tried to take the day off, to rest and rejuvenate your mind, body and soul. However, you felt an itch inside of you. An itch that berated you for the studying you’ve missed for being so lackadaisical— that time you had allotted for it now down the drain. You reached for your textbook again and opened back your laptop, ignoring the sting in your eyes as you grabbed your notebook and pen. Right back in that loop you’ve put yourself in.

(Y/N),

Please meet me in my office on Sunday, October 13, 2024. Two p.m. sharp.

Professor Higuruma

Higuruma always prided himself in being a just man, but he knew what he was doing to you wasn’t fair. You had potential in you after all, it seemed. You turned in decent work that didn’t make him want to gag, where it was better than a quarter than the other kids. You were putting in the work surely, always trying to correct the mistakes and errors he had highlighted in red. It seemed like you were seeking his validation through the desperation and lengths you were willing to take. He didn’t need to see it and you didn’t need to say a word, it’s in all of your work. And he can’t help, but boast to himself that he’s managed to tear you down with just using a sentence or two within his “constructive” criticism. He sends the email without a second thought, the corner of his lip twitching upwards in doing so.

You see the notification on your smart watch, an email from Professor Higuruma. You reach for your phone, swiping at the notification to open and unlocking your phone. Reading anything from him brings a spike of anxiety running down your spine, especially given the fact he wants to see outside of school hours. You don’t think about it too deeply to notice its suspicion in his request, simply replying to confirm that you will be there and playing right into the devil’s hand.

When you meet with Higuruma, his door is open. Sitting in his seat, he doesn’t look up from his work. He’s slouched forward, small brown pupils that always look exhausted as they flicker to you finally. He fixes his posture, straightening the white buttoned down shirt he’s wearing as he motions you to take a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk.

From there, he takes you in. You’re not wearing anything fancy, a t-shirt and jeans shorts that he’d deem too short. When you sit, the fat of your thighs join together and make Higuruma come to terms with just how much you’ve blossomed into a beautiful young woman in his absence. He should be disgusted by how it makes him feel, rumbling something deep inside him. He wants you to feel bad for it.

“I see you couldn’t even be bothered to put on something decent,” he comments, clicking out of a tab to lean in the swivel chair. He folds his hands together, clicking his tongue on the brim of his mouth and giving you another once over. “Who’s going to take you seriously if you can’t even come to a meeting with your professor in appropriate attire?”

This guise of preparing you for the real world, for becoming a lawyer— it’s all too easy and you’re all too gullible. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware that this was something really important or not—”

“It’s not,” he retorts, getting up from his seat, he brings himself in front of you, towering over you in a show of dominance. His hands stuffed inside the pockets of his dress pants as he leans against the edge of his desk, putting one leg over his knee. “But, you expect anyone to take you seriously dressed the way you are? Stand up.”

You don’t hesitate, standing up quickly and meeting Higuruma at eye level. He stands tall, a few inches taller than you. He’s taking a risk putting his hand on you, but considering that you’ve let him speak to you like this, he’s willing to test the waters and see. Gentle fingers that take your chin in his hand, forcing you to look directly into his eyes. He can see every flaw within you, every mark and blemish on your skin. Yet, it doesn’t deter the way his cock stirs inside his pants.

“Your father was a good lawyer— still is one— but you…” He tsks, voice getting raspy and deeper as his fingers trail down your neck to your clavicle. Pretty smooth skin is all he feels until he’s down to the hem of your shirt. He stops, trying to make his mind up. However, he’s feeling daring today. “I don’t know if you’ll even make it through the rest of your undergrad years. The work you’ve been handing in— mediocre, at best.”

He’s done more than invade your personal space, invading boundaries and crossing lines that should never be crossed as a professor and you as his student. You should tell him to stop, but the shiver down your spine does the opposite of what you want, making you inch closer to him as your breath hitches. You can feel him— his chest pressing against your chest and something pressing against your stomach. You’re praying that it’s his belt buckle, but you feel a faint stir letting you know it’s something else. His hands travel your body, stopping to graze and draw the shape of your breast.

“But— But you’ve been giving me good grades.” You knit your eyebrows together in confusion, your grades reflecting one thing but his words another.

“Yes,” he agrees before his rebuttal. “But good grades won't make you far as a lawyer. Don’t you want to be just like your daddy? Taking charge of whatever case you’re assigned that no one dares question you?”

His question makes sense, making you think about it. You want to make your father proud, and Higuruma was a man that used to stand right on your father’s level. If anyone could show you the ropes and help you other than your father, it would be him. You nod, “yes.”

“Then, you have to do everything I say,” Higuruma says. “Would you do anything I told you to?”

You take a minute to process, daring to look away before his hands are back on your face, harshly cupping your jaw and forcing you to keep eye contact before he’s repeating his question. “Would you do anything I told you to?”

“Yes,” you finally respond. After all, you’ve been doing it so willingly before. Higuruma grins, appeased with your response as he slowly nods. His grip on you loosening before finally letting go.

“Good,” he hums. “You’re to meet with me every Saturday at two p.m. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you say just above a whisper. His back is to you as he’s gathering all of his stuff. You spend a moment right there, unsure of what you should do next until he’s glancing behind him. He chuckles to himself inwardly. You’re so easy. Were you always this compliant with your parents? “You’re dismissed.”

The next time you speak with your parents, it’s in person. You’ve been listening to Nobara a bit more, taking breaks when needed. Though, Higuruma always stood in the back of your mind berating you. Somehow, he’s gotten ahold of your personal number, sending you messages and reminders that you must be studying and always aiming high if you want to be one of the best lawyers in Japan. His voice, it’s always lingering and berating you for moments of leisure like this. However, your mom and dad had been badgering you to come home and visit them as you’ve been slowly losing contact with them because of your extraneous schedule.

At the front door, you punch in the code before you hear the click of it opening. When it swings open, you’re immediately comforted by your mom’s cooking. The mouth watering aroma of a home cooked meal puts you in a trance as your feet make a bee line straight for the kitchen. Your mom’s standing behind the stove with her back to you as she hasn’t detected your arrival. In the pot is a meal that reminds her of home, something she made for you often as a child and still to this day.

A simple graze of her shoulder is enough to make her jump, a high-pitched scream coming from her lips before she’s spinning around and making the hot oil splatter against you and causing the both of you to scream. She slaps your shoulder when she finally calms down, grunting in annoyance. “Don’t scare me like that!”

“I didn’t mean to,” you can only retort, grabbing the kitchen towel to wipe off the cooling oil as your nerves settle down. When the both of you are in a calmer state, your mom pulls you into a hug.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you!” she coos, pulling away to take you in. “I didn’t expect you to come in until a bit later— are those eye bags? Have you not been sleeping properly?”

You fan away her hands that try to reach out and touch them. You groan, not feeling like talking about the subject matter. “Don’t worry about it. Where’s dad?”

The devil himself responds with, “he’s right here.” You can hear the rough shuffle of his feet pattering down the steps. “What was going on earlier? I heard screaming.”

From the small towel over his head and the wet t-shirt, it’s evident that he just came out of the shower. Your mom props a hand on her hip, side-eying you. “Oh, nothing. Just your daughter scaring her dear old mother to death.”

“It was an accident,” you roll your eyes. “I just touched her shoulder and she jumped.”

Shiu chuckles, making it to the kitchen and pulling you in for a hug. “(Y/N), you have to be careful. You know how jumpy your mother can get.”

The rest of the evening goes on smoothly as your mother finally calls you and your father over for dinner. Three plates prepared, your mother sets them down on the table as you’ve had the silverware and glasses set from before. You lean to give your mother a kiss on the cheek before sliding in your seat. “Thank you, mom.”

“Yes,” Shiu agrees. “Thank you, dear.”

“Mhm,” she chirps, finally setting down her own plate and sitting around the table next to your father. Her eyes are vibrant as she scans the area, happy to have her two prized-possessions with her in the same room again. “Shiu, can you start with the prayer?”

Halfway through your plate, your father looks over at you curiously. The bags underneath your eyes and your occasional yawns— it reminds him of his years in college. But, you’ve barely called and reached out to him as he was hoping. It made him concerned. Were you too scared to ask him for help even though he had blatantly told you he’d help you in any way, shape or form? “How have your classes been? Surely, they’re not stressing you out as much yet.”

“Oh, they’re stressing me out,” you snort. “But… nothing I can’t manage.”

“You’re not struggling with any of them, are you?” Shiu asks. “You haven’t reached out to me at all. Are you sure everything’s fine?”

“Yeah,” you reassure your father with a nod. “I’m passing all of my classes currently. And I have one of my professors offering me help outside of class hours to help me out.”

“Oh, really?” Shiu raises his eyebrows, leaning back in his chair. “Which one? I might know them.”

“You do,” you confirm. “You remember Higuruma, right? He’s a professor now, but I’m sure mom already told you about it. He’s offered to help me out with studying.”

Shiu stops eating, resting his fork gently against the plate as he knits his eyebrows together and looks at you, intaking this vital piece of information. He then glances at his wife, wondering how she could’ve forgotten to inform him of it. His wife fails to meet his eyes, forcing him to look back at you. He can’t help but repeat himself, “Oh, really?”

You nod, not noticing the scrunch of your father’s eyebrows and how heavy the atmosphere has turned. He tilts his head in curiosity, wondering the safety of his child within his old friend’s hands. “And you say he’s offered to tutor you?”

You hum in confirmation. “Yeah—”

“Honey,” Shiu stops himself, thinking about what he’s to say next. He doesn’t want to alarm you about the matter, and he’s not too sure himself if Higuruma will be a liability. The way you say it with confidence, not an ounce of fear in your mind. Is his old friend truly looking out for you for the greater good? Does he want to take this chance? “I’m not too sure about that.”

“Shiu,” your mom reaches for her husband’s hand, dissuading him from saying anything more. At the way your parents look at each other, it calls for your attention, finally aware of the suffocating tension lingering in the air.

“Why? Is something the matter?” you ask. “Mom told me about what happened to him, and he seems fine now—”

Shiu shoots his wife a glare, a simple action that speaks so many words. “Don’t worry about it, honey. It’s nothing you need to fret about.”

Your father stands up, his plate unfinished, but he’s decided that he’s had enough. “I’ll do the dishes, baby.”

He bends down to his wife's ear, planting a kiss against her temple before whispering, “we’ll talk about this later.”

—

Higuruma can prove himself to be a gentleman with you, in instances such as now where he has you on your knees, standing right in front of you with the door to his office locked. He’s got himself pressed up against you, his erection touching your face and forcing you to feel him. You decided to listen to him, wearing something more business casual in a button-up blouse and pencil skirt that had Maki questioning your whereabouts. You never did end up telling her just where you were going, heading straight through the door.

He’s caressing your face, pushing away at your braids. He had undone your ponytail, pulling the clip away to see how it fell past your shoulders. You’re a pretty sight to see like this, so obedient and following every word he says. The lights in his office are dim, but they illuminate against you. It’s as though your skin is glowing, dazzling beautifully as he’s got your cheek pressed against his erection and rubbing himself against you.

Even in proper attire, you manage to make it so sexually appealing. His eyes squinting down in disdain as he tuts out a sigh. “You just can’t seem to do anything right. I guess you’ll be one of those lawyers that sleep their way around to get what they want, huh?”

You shake your head in disagreement, making Higuruma laugh. “Oh, but yes. I’ve got you on your knees right now, looking like whore, so I believe it’s safe to assume what you’re destined for— C’mon and undo my pants for me.”

You should’ve expected it the first time you had come in for your study session, that first Saturday, he did nothing but graze his hands all over your body as he tested you on the material. Who were the most important people in the Japanese dynasty during the Heian era? When did it come to fall? He would ask you all while his hand was on your thigh, inching up and between your legs to cup your heat. You would falter and stammer on your words, feeling his hot touch embedding itself into your skin. Whenever you came close to saying a word, he’d apply pressure and glide his finger down your covered heat.

You were ashamed of yourself. Of wanting this, not telling your parents the full truth, not telling your friends either. Nobara was no longer suspicious, though Higuruma was nowhere near being one of her favorite professors, but she backed off and was no longer checking up on you as she frequently did at one point. But maybe she got tired of your lies and no one longer deemed it her concern.

However, the lust discarded all of that said shame, enjoying the way this older man makes you feel at the swipe of a finger and how his degrading words have created you into someone you could no longer recognize. You could only guess that you weren’t moving fast enough for his liking, feeling his hand come up to grip your jaw roughly and pulling you closer to him. “Aren’t you listening? Take off my pants and suck my cock like the filthy slut you are.”

Your hands tremble as the reach for the zipper of his dress pants, fingertips ghosting against his hard length. Your eyes move to flicker from him down to it, where you can feel that familiar feeling grow inside of you. That flutter deep inside your stomach as arousal pooled onto the center of your panties. You failed to wear a pair of protective shorts underneath, your legs squeezed tightly together as your juices seep through and stick to your inner thighs. Feeling that metal tab, pulling it down. You grow more daring by the second, hands moving to cup his length through the undergarment and fondle it.

You can see how his chest constricts, stopping his breath as he loses himself for a moment. But only for a moment does he shut his eyes, feeling the way your hand is gentle and causing more precum to leak from his tip, before he’s bunched up your hair together and forces you away. You try to contact the high-pitched screech that leaves from your lips. “Do you think you’re the one in charge?”

Tears prickle out from the corner of your eyes as you shake your head, your voice squeaking when you utter out, “no.”

“Then, what’d I tell you to do?” He asks.

“You told me to undo your pants.” Your heart’s beating fast, squinting your eyes as you feel the tears fall before they flutter back open to stare into Higuruma’s. For the first time, he looks so alive, and you take pride to know it’s because of you.

“Did I ask for anything more?”

“No,” you sob.

“Do I have to punish you?” Higuruma hums. “Give you a good spanking and leave that good pussy soaked?”

“No,” you croak. “Please, no.”

Gosh, he can’t help but revel in this. He has you begging. He hums some more, pondering over just what to do with you. “Maybe I will leave you all high and dry, but not before I get what I want. Since, you’re so incompetent and I have to do everything myself—” He tugs down his pants just far enough where it’s right above his knees and brings his underwear down along with it, his cock slapping against his abdomen. “—Hm, suck. Don’t use your hands. Keep them where they’re at.”

His shirt’s still on and hanging down loosely. He grips himself at the base, where it gives you a better peek up his shirt, where you can see the dark hairs of his happy trail travel to his cock. You see how’s sort of let go of himself, his pubic hair untamed. His grip on your hair is still strong, forcing your lips to touch the tip of his cock where pre stil leaks from him. The sticky translucent substance paints your lips with it. Slowly, your mouth opens and he takes the opportunity to make it wider, shoving his cock deep inside your mouth until you’re full of him.

He’s got a set of girth to him, making your mouth stretch open widely as his tip kisses the back of your throat. The mushroom-shaped head of him basking in the feeling of your mouth wrapped around him. Your mouth hollows around his length, trying to accustom yourself to the ache that’s already beginning to settle in. With one hand on your shoulder, Higuruma pushes you further down on your knees as he presses himself into your warmth. How your eyes water so beautifully as another set of tears become to showcase themselves. It causes him to groan, having a young thing like yourself in his grasp, all for him to use and take advantage of.

“The only thing you’re good for is to cry while you take cock,” Higuruma groans as he forces you off his length, watching you inhale deeply. He’s being kind by giving you this rest period, taking a moment to get your features like this memorized. How you already look a mess. “I can see it. You sprawled out on a judge’s desk, pleading with them to make you win. Legs wide open and your pussy begging to be fucked. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Bet you’re fucking soaked.”

Sheathing himself back inside of you, Higuruma groans. “‘M gonna fucking love this. Getting to use you just how I want and cum in that pretty mouth of yours.”

You can barely breathe through your nose with the force he’s using on you, pushing your head down so deep within him that what you can intake is his smell. His earthy cologne still lingering on him as well as his natural musk. Again, you should feel ashamed. You should feel ashamed for how your pussy trembles, your juices soaked to no salvation. You’re careful to go slowly, your hands going unnoticed when they travel in between your legs to cup yourself. You’ve imagined this plenty of times before from the moment you started these one-on-one tutoring sessions with him. You wondered what it would like to feel him, what his cock felt like inside of you— whether it was in your mouth or your pussy.

You wanted to know how it would feel stretching you out and how good he’d fuck you. Nights where you’d play with your pussy, hoping that Maki was fast asleep and didn’t hear the toy that was trapped in between your legs. You’d conceal your moans that dared to slip out, hips bucking as you were close. You’d picture it was Higuruma— your father’s old friend and now professor— making you feel this good. And when you came, you were too scared to make a move, falling asleep in your own mess and hoping that by the next morning, the stench of your release wasn’t as potent as it was in the moment.

Now that you’re below him and getting mouth-fucked by him, it makes you moan out as you stick your hand underneath your skirt, the fabric riding up and barely covering your ass. Fortunately for the both of you, the door is locked. However, if anyone were to come in right now, they’d see your ass on display with your hands right in between your legs and happily sucking off your professor, a man more than twice your age. It would be a pretty sight to behold, watching your pussy drool so selfishly as you play with your clit as Higuruma face fucks you.

His hand in your hair, a slight pain throbbing in the back of your head as he controls your movements altogether. Your head bobs up and down as you moan like a whore under him. He has to lean against the table every so often to get a hold of himself, seeing you like this makes him feel like he’s young again and can’t withhold himself. He pants and grunts, his chest rising and falling as his eyelids grow heavy. He sees the roll of your hips, finding that your hands have snaked in between to touch your pussy. He won’t stop you. No, instead, he chuckles as he rolls his hips into your mouth. “Fuck, you’re such a dirty little whore. Who am I kidding? You’ll amount to nothing the second I’m done with you. Look at you, touching yourself.”

He says it like it’s a sin, spitting it out with so much venom but inside you, his cock twitches. Resting his weight against the desk, he drags you along with him, making sure you never leave his length. He ignores the way you gag around his length, sputtering out in pain as you whine and mewl before his hips move faster. You have to catch air as quickly as possible with the amount of force he uses.

The sounds of blubbering and wet skin sounding from the two of you echoes inside the office. Your pussy clenches as you grind down into your hand, a finger snaking between your walls as you can slightly bounce against it and wishing that it was Higuruma’s cock instead. Your eyes shut tight as you let the tears seep down and dry onto your skin. Your high-pitched moans reverberating against your chest and to him, his arousal pooling into the back of your throat as he hits at your uvula repetitively. All throughout, your desperation to make it through the years pours out of you, greedily taking what Higuruma gives.

It feels like he’s the only person who’s told you the truth to your face. You’re not smart enough; you have no ambition; you’ll amount to nothing. It all pours into your head, your mother’s words, the feigned feelings from family and family friends as they ultimately agree with her. Someone’s finally said it to your face, and you’re coming to accept it. And through your desperation to prove them wrong, but never Higuruma, you’ll do whatever it takes to have them biting at their own words.

Spit pools from the corner of your lips, trickling down your chin as your head looks up at him with a look of determination set in your eyes. It piques his interest what’s made you snap, but doesn’t question it when he feels your tongue grazing the shaft as you finally put in some more effort. Your tongue tasting that vein than ran down underneath, making Higuruma take in a deep inhale. No longer does he have to force you down his length as you meet his thrusts with eagerness and his grip loosens.

“That’s right,” he breathes. “Fuck, be a proud whore and get me off.”

You feel like, after one hit, you’ve become addicted. Fingers stuffed inside your pussy as you multitask with getting him off as well as yourself. Your chest rises and falls and you can feel yourself so close, getting so close to hitting that brink. However, Higuruma stops you before you could, a set of words that have you wondering if sorcery is real. “Don’t you dare fucking cum. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop right now.”

And just the obedient girl you are, you stop with a whiny mewl. Simultaneously, Higuruma pulls out of you, leaving your mouth empty.

“Let me see your fingers,” but as he says so, he reaches for the hand tucked between your legs and brings it up in the air. Holding your hand by the wrist as he sees how your index and middle finger’s coated in your slick, making them glossy as a string hangs in the air.

“Clean them off,” he demands, shoving your hands in your face and near your lips. “Taste how much of a dirty slut you are.”

He watches as your lips wrap your fingers inside, making you taste yourself as you hum in delight. He lets go of your wrist, a firm grip around the base of his cock before he’s ejaculating. Wet and lubricated all thanks to you, he’s gripping the back of your neck and holding you still, making your head lean back. “Be a good girl and—”

You don’t let him finish, lulling your mouth open and sticking out your tongue. Shit, you’re fucking gorgeous like this, he can’t help but think to himself. Fucking his fist, he can feel himself getting closer. Holding you still with a visceral grip, his cock so close to his mouth, he feels himself twitching as that euphoric feeling returns and makes him feel young again. He spurts his seed inside your mouth, white shooting inside and some splattering on your face. You moan out without shame, opening your mouth wider as he continues to leak himself inside of you. “Fuuuck,” he breathes.

Falling from his high, Higuruma comes to his senses as he looks down at you. You haven’t cleaned yourself up, afraid to move. He bends down to pull up his pants, his cock softening as he makes his way over to his desk. Sitting back in his seat, he doesn’t make eye contact with you. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get yourself all cleaned up and get out of my office. We’ll see each other next Saturday.”

—

Being a private investigator means constantly being at discomfort. Well, that’s what it means for Nanami because as he captures each picture of you and Higuruma in such compromising positions, he grimaces. Hired by Shiu Kong, he’s known well throughout the world of law, but also in the underground where the darkness prowls freely. Ties that follow the Zenin clan, he’s a person who’s gone untouched and will continue on remaining so in this world of dirty politics. With every snap of the camera and in such an uncomfortable position, he’s not sure how to reveal to his boss what his daughter and ex-friend have been doing behind closed doors.

Your father decided to give Higuruma some grace— sort of. He hired Nanami to essentially watch over you, see where you go and watch Higuruma’s movements. He didn’t want the blonde to immediately report to him, to simply gather up all intel on the dark-haired bastard before making a sound decision. Maybe, just maybe, Shiu could trust you in the hands of Higuruma. Never did he expect your hands to be all around Higuruma.

Nanami made sure to select the most appropriate photos of the bunch he has of you and the former colleague, watching his boss open the manila folder and take it in— take it all in. A calm before the storm settling in as Shiu looks through each and every photo before he’s at the last one. Then, when he shuts the folder closed, he throws it across the room, all the photographs flying around haphazardly. “Why didn’t you show me any of this sooner?”

“You gave me strict orders not to, sir,” Nanami reminds him, fixing his spectacles. “You made me make sure of it.”

Shiu pinches the bridge of his nose. “One thing you need to know, there’s always a time where you must break the rules— AND NOW WAS ONE OF THEM!” The seat he was in is thrown backwards, now on the ground as he hovers menacingly over Nanami. He huffs and puffs, face reddening with anger.

“Shit,” he curses, hiding his hands in his face. He feels like he’s at the brink of tears. How stupid. How stupid of him to let his guard down. “What am I going to tell my wife? How am I going to explain to her that this—” he gestures towards the thrown down photos “—has been going on for months?”

He starts pacing around the room, hand tangling in his hair before throwing his head back and muttering, “I’m going to kill him.”

Reaching for his phone, Shiu skims through his contacts until he lands on the familiar name— Fushiguro.

—

Months have passed now as winter break draws near. You’ve just finished your final exam, now able to gain some peace as you walk alongside Nobara as the two of you head towards the courtroom. You roll your neck to stretch your body from hours of sitting and stressing. Nobara moans as she hears the crick of her muscles, “Oh, I’m so glad that that’s over with. I’m exhausted!”

“I just want to eat something, then pass out,” you grumble, hands shoved inside of your hoody as you follow alongside her. At the mention of food, her eyes light up as she spins on her heel, grabbing you by the shoulders. “Speaking of food, you wanna go get hibachi? There’s this restaurant not too far away from campus—”

At that moment, your phone vibrates in your pocket, a message from Higuruma popping on screen, but his caller ID underneath an entirely different name. His message is simple: 7:30 pm. Be there. “I’m sorry, Nobara, but I can’t. Something just came up.”

Nobara frowns, crossing her arms. You’ve been talking to some guy, you’ve admitted it, but you never go into complete detail. All Nobara knows is that once he texts, you’re ready to drop everything to run to him. Within her fair share of relationships, never has she been so compliant towards her man’s every request. “I don’t like this, (Y/N). You’re always dropping everything to see this guy and we never have time to hang out with each other anymore. It’s like, once I get you out of the books, something else steals you away from me.”

You frown, feeling guilty, but you can’t miss this. You always tell yourself that, not wanting to go receive any form of punishment from the older man. “I’m sorry, but—”

“That’s all you can say!” Nobara grows agitated, letting you go and turning her back on you. “Y’know what? Just… Just go.”

And you do, without further hesitation.

You body lies down underneath him so pliant, your body so willing to give and respond to him as your legs are wide open. Though it may be on your body, his pussy is displayed open for his sight only. How your folds glisten like porcelain and how you clench in desperation for him— for his cock to fill it up. Such a pretty and disgusting little thing you are, always coming back to be used how he wants and never objecting to a word he says. Never saying no.

He finds it pathetic. He finds you pathetic.

It’s pathetic how as time comes to pass, whenever you look at him, there’s a sense of need in your eyes. Your mind becomes distorted as you long for him by the second. How your mind has come to jumble up together to form these thoughts inside your head that he’d seek out a relationship further than this. How in the past, you’ve confessed to wanting more and while he tells you how pitiful you are, you always come back. You always come back, seemingly hoping and praying that someday he’ll give you what you want.

However, every time he looks into your eyes, he sees your damn father and he knows he can never give you more. Not just because of the restrictions, but because he doesn’t want to.

When you were waiting inside his house, giving you the spare key so that you could hurry inside and get out of the sight of possible nosey neighbors, you were so patient. Laying on his bed with your body sprawled out naked the moment he stepped through his bedroom door, gracing him with the presence of his living fleshlight that he’s come to use and abuse. He’s still got his clothes on, simply pulling down his pants and underwear for his cock to spring free and explore that tight pussy of yours.

How it always manages to snap back into place, making him have to stretch you out all over again baffles him. By the many times he’s fucked you, he should have it shaped to the exact size and measurements of his cock. He barely preps you, pushing the head of his cock at your entrance and listening to the way you writhe and whine underneath him in pain. Your eyes shutting as you cry like you always do. He grins maniacally as his hand comes to wrap around your neck, holding onto it and forcing your head deeper into the soft cushion of his pillow.

He silences you through the constriction of air, your cries now silent as he bottoms out inside of you. Your mewls cut short as you can no longer breathe, and the sting to your face always comes as a shock. With the steady rock of his hips, your pussy clenches around him and sucks him in tightly as you roll your hips languidly, feeling the oxygen return into your lungs.

Higuruma doesn’t want to admit that you have potential. Potential to be a good lawyer. Doesn’t want any guilt to consume him for how he’s made you feel, so fucks into you until your pussy’s all battered and molded back to accommodate him perfectly. You’ve done better than most of the students on your exams, both midterm and finals. You never needed much help from him, you never did. But while your score sits at the top, he has to remind you of your place. That you’ll always be beneath him.

“You think that a good score will carry you on for the rest of your life?” He leans down to grab your bottom lip with his teeth, biting down on the delicate skin as his grip around your neck tightens. He drills into your tight pussy, knowing that his brutal words always make it flutter. “You’ll get nowhere. You’ll always be eating the scum at the bottom of my shoe.”

He chuckles darkly, it echoing through the room as the wet sound of skin slapping against skin vibrates through the air. The stench of sex wafting through as your mixed arousals seep through. He leans down to your ears, nibbling against the skin. “But I’d bet you’d love that, too.”

He slaps you again, the headboard of his bed, hitting the wall repeatedly as the impact sounds through with everything. “Filthy fuckin’ whore.”

Deep in your mind, somewhere far deep within, it’s telling you— practically begging you— to find your way out. It’s asking you to dig yourself out of the trenches as it’s coming to suffocate you and swallow you whole, but you always push it back. Forcing yourself to accept Higuruma’s cruelty and furthermore, to enjoy it. The joy you felt when your exam grades were announced within a little over twelve hours, that sense of relief and pride that rang through your bones as you couldn’t help but tear up a little. A smile gracing your features as you tell yourself that you did it. And Higuruma’s voice infiltrates your mind shortly after to remind you that it’s because of him.

You mewl out, your breasts bouncing with each thrust of his hips as you make sure to meet him with every one of them. Your back arching off the bed as your nails dig into his dark sheets. Your mouth is open agape, crying out and moaning out his name like a mantra. Your juices coating his cock and escaping the tight crevices every chance it gets, slipping deep into the cracks of your ass as your sweet cunt drools for him.

His breath against your skin as he’s so close to your face, brown eyes watching your face twist and contort with pleasure. “Tell me how much of a whore you are.”

“I’m—I’m such a whore,” you manage to gasp, feeling his hands tighten once more. “S-such a filthy and nasty whore.”

“Yes, you are,” he grins wildly. “A dirty whore whose pussy loves older cock. Willing to get drilled by her professor. So, so nasty.”

“Are you…” you try to get your breathing under control. “Will you make me cum tonight?”

“I don’t know,” Higuruma hums, burying himself into you deeply as he stops all ministrations. “Do you think you deserve to cum tonight?”

“Yes,” you nod meekly. “Yes, I’ve been so good.”

“I decide if you’ve been good or not,” another sound of a slap infiltrating the air as Higuruma returns to the beatings of his cock against your walls. He’s an evil man, finding his fill within you as he’s fucked you of his load already, painting your insides white but deciding it’s not enough. When he feels that you’re close, he’ll stop and let your impending orgasm dissipate within the thin air as you whine and mewl in displeasure and beg him to let you have at least one release. It isn’t until he feels that coil in his stomach that he finally decides to be nice.

“Fine, but you’ve got to cum with me,” he says, capturing your lips with a kiss as he holds onto your neck. He swallows your lips in hunger as you gleefully reciprocate the action, kissing him with so much fervor and passion. It’s sloppy as your pussy pulsates, it screams of your essence as you milk the older man of his.

A milky white ring forming around his base as he continues fucking you, forcing the cum to drip out of your pussy as the drilling of his hips slow its rough and fast pace. Together, the both of you catch your breath as Higuruma finally pulls away. And for some reason, you thought tonight would be different, but when he climbs off of you to sit at the edge of the bed, you realize nothing’s changed as his voice rings out. Always the same thing, “Hurry up and get going. It’s getting late.”

At first, you always believed that it was his small show that he cared. It’s getting late, your delusions made you believe that he said that because the sky was darkening and he didn’t want you getting snatched away by the wonders of night. But every time he said it, he sounded emptier and emptier. There’s no meaning behind his words. So, you get dressed, calling yourself a lift for a few blocks down in the hopes of going undetected, never noticing the dark car that’s parked a few houses back, watching you leave.

Shiu lights himself a cigarette, letting out a big exhale when he opens the door the moment you’re no longer in sight. He hated to have prolonged this, but he had to play it smart. Now that colleges will be closing soon for the holidays, it was the perfect time. You had called a couple days prior, saying that you’d be home in two to three days at most. The last thing Shiu had Nanami do was tap your phone, where he saw all your conversations with Higuruma. The conversations the two of you shared were always short and sweet— just what Shiu needed. While you’re on break, Higuruma won’t message you and you’ll come to believe that he’s busy. It wouldn’t be the first he’d gone days without messaging you. You wouldn’t suspect a thing.

He felt disgust within himself, feeling like a failure of a father for letting this happen. He should’ve checked up on you more, should’ve persisted that you only sought him for help. Hell, he should’ve looked through your schedule the moment you got it, so he could’ve nipped it in the bud from then. A fool he is for putting faith in the school he used to attend. He is a fool for giving Higuruma the benefit of the doubt. However, this regret and pent up anger won’t subside the longer he mopes about it. Now that he knows and now that he’s here, something will finally be done about this.

“You sure you wanna witness this?” Toji asks the man, hopping out of his side as they both approach the house. The lawyer had always stayed on the sidelines, never wanting to get too involved in Toji’s lifestyle. Anyone could be watching and that itself was a liability. Though, with a son himself, Toji can’t say he blames the man. But, would the lawyer truly be able to handle the bloodshed? “It can get pretty nasty.”

“Nah, I need to,” Shiu takes a long drag from the cigarette. He can feel it pulsating inside of him. If Higuruma didn’t die tonight, someone else will. “Promised my wife I would.”

“Haha,” Toji chuckles, remembering the night the two of them met. He feels pride within himself for being such a good wingman. “Yeah.”

“That’s enough talking,” Shiu drops his cigarette, crushing it with the heel of his shoe, walking ahead of Toji. “This bastard needs to die.”

Sneaking in through the patio door, the two men walk in silence. The gun that’ll be used to kill the former lawyer tucked away in the back of Toji’s pants, him reaching out to pull it out of the confines. Shiu glances at the hitman, giving him a stern look. “It better not jam.”

“My baby?” he scoffs. “She’d never.”

Shiu rolls his eyes. “Anything goes wrong and your pay’s depleting.”

“We’ll talk about that if it comes to it.” They spot Higuruma in the bedroom. Clothes still on as he reaches for laptop in the cart. Shiu tuts as he opens the door, “Your clothes are still on? Good. At least you’ll die with some dignity.”

( author's note. ) this fic was so much fun to write, and i can only hope that you guys enjoyed reading it just as much as i had writing it. thank you for taking the time to indulge in this fic, please comment or reblog with your thoughts.

╰┈➤ credits: thank you so much, @hiraethwrote , for beta reading this for me & making sure i didn't publish absolute garbage for everyone to read.

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afictionaladventure16 · 8 months ago

Text

A Little Unsteady (Tim Bradford x Teen!Fem!Reader)

The Rookie Masterlist

Summary: Y/N finds herself back at square one and desperate for a break. Tim has always felt like something was missing in his life and when Y/N stumbles into the police station looking for his girlfriend, he feels drawn to her, like he was called to help her.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse and death

Word Count: 3,138

Authors note: Let me know what y'all think of this, might make it into an angsty series! Send in the requests!

Shit.

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself, your mind racing to a million thoughts. The sound of a million voices rang through your ears as you entered the building, but that was all an exaggeration, it was only a room with maybe a good thirty people.

Spending your lunch period at the police station was the last thing you wanted to do, but you were desperate and eager to find that familiar face. You knew Rachel hung around the police station when she wasn’t in her office, whether it was for work or personal, this had to be the place she was gonna be at.

Walking up to the front desk, anxiously tapping your fingers on the counter catching the lady behind the counter's attention. The lady’s eyes landed on your fingers, “Can I help you, hon?”

you clenched your fingers to your palm, “Sorry,” you gave her an apologetic smile.

She smiled, “I get it, police stations give lots of people anxiety. What can I help you with today?”

You were quick to notice police officers standing near the counter looking through files and some sitting down and typing away on a computer. “I- Um, I’m looking for Rachel Hall. She’s a social worker and sometimes she’s here.”

“Rachel Hall,” the receptionist repeated as she looked through the log-in log.

One of the officers quickly turned his head, “You’re looking for Rachel?” He asked.

You looked over at him, giving him a nod. “You know her, Officer Bradford?”

“Yeah, she’s… a friend. She’s actually here doing some paperwork.” He walked over to where you stood, “I can show you where she is.”

You gave him a hesitant nod, and he gave you a reassuring smile in return before thanking the receptionist and walking out of the room. You followed his lead, he turned to look over at you before asking, “So, how do you know Rachel?”

“She used to be my social worker before…” you trailed off, clearing your throat. “Doesn’t matter.”

Tim decided not to press on any further as he led you to a meeting room where a lot of social workers come to do wellness checks and supervised visitations, among many other things. He knew Rachel had been at the station for a supervised visitation, one that unfortunately had to be conducted within the police station for safety reasons. Thankfully, she was done with her visitation and was just finishing up on her paperwork before heading back to her office. Tim liked to believe she stayed longer just so she could see him or even catch a glimpse before she headed back out.

“Rachel!” You exclaimed, letting out a sigh of relief as Rachel quickly turned her head, surprised to see who had called her name.

“Y/N?” She got up from her seat, “What are you doing here?”

You walked over to Rachel, “I needed to see you, you’re the only one who would believe me.”

Rachel glanced at Tim who just gave her a shrug, “What’s going on?”

“I can’t stay at that house anymore, there has to be something you can do.”

Rachel sighed, “Y/N, I’m not your case worker anymore. Anything I do would get me in trouble.” As much as she wanted to do something, it would be putting her job on the line and it meant she wouldn’t be able to help other kids as well. She was already at risk for making a huge mistake on a case a couple weeks back.

Tears began to well up in your eyes, “I can’t stay there.”

“Y/N, why can’t you stay there?” Tim asked.

You glanced over at Tim, remaining silent. “Y/N, what did they do to you?” You didn’t respond, you had come here for help but the words had escaped you. You didn’t know how to tell the one person who helped you escape a hellish home a few months back, a home that almost cost her, her job; that the home she thought would be safe is far from it. “Did they hurt you?” Looking back at Rachel, you gave her a nod.

Rachel let out a shaky sigh, there were times when she lost hope for the system. This was one of those times. She looked over at Tim before looking over at you, “You have to tell Sasha, Y/N.”

“I did tell her!” You said in frustration, “But she hasn’t done anything! It’s like she doesn’t even care.” Rachel didn’t want to defend her friend's behavior, but this didn’t sound like her. At least not from how she knew her.

“I-I,” she sighed, “I can’t do anything Y/N.”

With pleading eyes, you gave her an understanding nod, “I just don’t want to go back there.”

Tim hated seeing this part of the job. Seeing how the system worked and how it meant that kids within the system went to homes that didn’t even care about their existence. “What if I did a wellness check?” Tim asked, “That way, I can come in and check on you, and then your foster parents will know that someone knows about the situation?”

“Like a scaring tactic,” Rachel added.

“Exactly, It’s not the best but it could help,” Tim tried his best to be hopeful.

It wasn’t what you wanted. It was far from it, actually, but beggars can’t be choosers. “Alright.”

Tim offered you a ride back to school and you accepted. The whole car ride back, you felt defeated, given that all you had received was damage control. Nothing could be done about your situation, not yet at least.

“So, what grade are you in?” Tim asked, trying his best to distract you from your thoughts.

“I’m a freshman.”

He nodded, “any thought about college yet?”

You shook your head, “even if I did, I doubt I would even be able to go.”

“There’s always scholarships,” he said with a hopeful tone.

“Did you go to college?” You asked.

“No, actually. I went into the military then I became a cop, obviously.” You nodded, “That could also be an option too.” You didn’t say anything in response, you drew attention back to the houses you passed by on the car ride. Tim cleared his throat, he knew what it was like to be in your shoes. Wishing for someone to help you from the people that were supposed to protect you. “So, what’s your story?”

“What’s yours?” you retorted.

Tim rolled his eyes, usually, he wouldn't have played this game. But something within him felt like you needed to hear his story, maybe it would you realize that everything could turn out okay, even if everything at the moment felt a little unsteady.

“I grew up with an abusive father, I spent most of my life fighting to survive.” He gave you a quick glance before focusing back on the road, “So I know what’s it like, to wish someone would just help, for someone to just take you away from the one place you’re supposed to feel safe in.”

You remained silent for the next few minutes, Tim groaned at the sigh of the traffic ahead of him. “We’re going to be here a while,” he commented.

You sighed, “my dad died in front of me,” you spoke up.

Tim glanced over at you, “my parents were high school sweethearts apparently and when my dad passed away, my mom couldn’t handle it. I’m sure if you went down skid row, you’d find her lying on the ground somewhere with a needle stuck in her arm. I’ve been in and out of foster homes since I was eight. My mom's been in and out of rehab since then.”

“That’s not easy,” Tim commented. He had a lot of things to say about how your mother handled things but to each their own. His heart ached at the thought that you didn’t have a good structure in your life.

“Nope,” you responded. “Rachel was the only one that ever did something to take me out of my previous foster home, even if it almost cost her job.”

“And now you feel like you’ve wasted all your resources.”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Just five more years and I’ll be out of the system's hands.”

The traffic began to move again. Minutes later, Tim pulled into the school parking lot. “Before you go,” he began as he reached into his shirt pocket, took out a card, and handed it to you. “If you ever need anything and I mean anything, you give me a call.”

You took the card, giving him a small smile, “Thank you, Officer Bradford.” you got out of the shop, closing the door behind you. Giving Tim a small wave goodbye before you snuck back into campus.

Tim made it his personal assignment to check up on you from there on out, to make sure you were all right, not just for you but for Rachel too. It was the least he could do, even though everything within him wanted to do more. He wanted to save you from your personal hell, but it was impossible for him at the moment.

When he made it back to the station, Rachel was there waiting for him, “How’d it go?”

“I gave her my card, and told her she could call me if there’s anything she needed. I’ll do a wellness check before the end of my shift,” he stated.

“Thank you.” Rachel sighed, “She was one of my first cases, so she means a lot to me.” The two of them remained quiet for a moment, the situation between the two of them has been different since Rachel got a job in New York. “Promise me something?”

Tim looked up at her, “Anything.”

“Look after her for me? While I’m gone. She could use a guardian angel.”

Tim smiled, “Of course.” Tim couldn’t help but feel a dreading sensation within him, he hated that he couldn’t do more.

The weeks to come were difficult for Tim, with Rachel leaving and all the shit that went down within the station. He felt drained but didn’t show it. Tim needed a change within his life, something to make him work harder within his life. He had his dog and he was happy with his dog, but he still felt like he was missing something.

There were times when he couldn’t help but wonder if everything hadn’t happened with Isobel if they would have had children by now. What their life would have been like. That’s all he could think about, the what-ifs.

“Look, everyone has their first puppy, it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Tim commented. Lucy, his boot, had been dealing with her first puppy as a rookie. He couldn’t help but tease her about it.

“Whatever,” Lucy brushed off.

Tim chuckled as he kept his focus on the street ahead of him. They were heading back to the station to end their shift. Tim was ready to go home and watch the game, to just relax for the next couple of days.

“Any plans for tonight?” Lucy asked.

“There’s a game on tonight.”

“Of course,” she rolled her eyes.

Once they arrived to the station, Tim was quick to do all his end-of-shift duties before clocking out. He groaned to himself as he stepped outside to be met with darkness. He hated how quick it was to get dark in the winter.

He got into his car and began his journey back home, listening to music on the way. He came to a slow stop as the light turned red, he glanced towards the sidewalk. It took him a second to process what he saw, he quickly took another look, “What the,” he muttered to himself. The light had turned green and the car behind him honked. Tim groaned and turned his signal light on before pulling off to the side.

Quickly getting out of the car, he tried his best to catch up to the person he had just seen, “Y/N!?” He asked.

You quickly turned around, “Shit,” you muttered under your breath.

“What are you doing out here?”

You held the strap to your duffle bag tighter, “Um, I-I I’m” Tim waited for you to come up with a good excuse, “I’m on my way home,” you smiled.

“Really?” You nodded, “then you wouldn’t mind if I gave you a ride?”

“Well-”

“Y/N,” he said sternly.

“Fine.”

Tim smiled, “let’s go.”

You followed Tim to his car, getting into the passenger seat as he waited until you had your seatbelt on before driving off. “How you’ve been?” He asked as he began driving in the direction he had just come from.

You sighed, “Fine.”

Tim sighed, “I know it’s been two weeks since I’ve done a wellness check.”

“I didn’t say anything about that.”

“I know, I just felt the need to apologize,” He reassured. “Have they-”

“If you’re gonna ask if they’ve hurt me, no. Not since you’ve seen me.”

“Good,” he responded.

“You can drop me off at the corner,” You commented.

“No, I’m going to drop you off in front of your house,” Tim stated. He knew what you were doing, you weren’t fooling him. You were walking the direction away from your home and you had a duffle bag. It was obvious.

He stopped in front of the house, “here you go,” he said with a smile.

You clenched your jaw, you hadn’t stepped foot in that house within a week. Going in now would be a death trap. You couldn’t do it, you couldn’t open the car door and get out of that house. Knowing that Tim would wait in his car until he saw you walk inside that house.

“Well?”

You sighed, feeling defeated. “Stop acting like you don’t know.”

“Where have you been staying?” You shrugged, “Y/N,” he said sternly.

“Under some bridge near Skid Row.”

“Near skid row!? Y/N!” He exclaimed, “do you have any idea how stupid that is?”

“I was desperate to get out!”

“This is the second house we’ve gotten you since I’ve met you, you know what Sasha said! It’s either this or the shelter.”

“And I chose neither!”

Tim pinched the bridge of his nose, “how long?”

“A week.”

Tim looked at her with wide eyes, “It rained for three days straight this past week!” He sighed, “I gave you my number so you could call me if you needed something and this is what you do.”

“I wasn’t gonna call you, so you could just have Sasha send me to another home that’ll treat me the same way.”

“What’s wrong with this one?” He asked as he sat back in his seat.

“Well, when you say it that way-”

He sighed, “I’m asking because I need to know.”

You rolled your eyes, “I caught him watching me…” you looked down at your hands.

“Watching you?”

“He watched me shower,” You hated how it made you feel, how you just felt exposed every time he would look at you, even if you had clothes on. Tim undid his seatbelt, “Please, don’t go in there.”

Tim wanted to disregard your request, but he knew the last thing you needed right now was for him to make things worse. It was an issue that would be dealt with tomorrow, for now, he needed to find you a place to stay. “You have a place to stay tonight?” You shook your head, “You do now,” he commented.

You gave him a confused look, “I have a guest bedroom, you can stay there tonight.”

“You don’t have to”

“I’m not letting you stay under some bridge near Skid Row nor am I letting you stay in that home. I’ll call Sasha in the morning, for now, you can have my guest room.”

You wanted to argue with him about how you could defend yourself, but who were you kidding. You’re only fourteen and let’s face the facts. You wanted to sleep in a warm bed.

The ride back to Tim’s place was quiet and usually, you hated it. The quiet meant you had time to be left alone with your thoughts, but for the first time in a while, your mind was at ease. The drive wasn’t long, Tim helped you carry your duffle inside his house. You heard the tapping of nails hitting the floor, and you were quickly greeted with paws on your chest and a tongue slobbering all over your cheek.

“Kojo, down!” Tim exclaimed and the dog quickly got down. “Sorry about Kojo.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you kneeled down next to the dog to give him some love, “you should’ve said you had a dog, I would’ve said yes a long time ago.”

Tim couldn’t help but smile as you giggled at Kojo’s antics, “Come on, let me show you where you’ll stay tonight.” He gestured for you to follow him.

You got up from your position next to Kojo and followed Tim down a short hallway, “Alright, the bathroom is the door at the end of the hallway, help yourself to whatever is in the fridge except for my beer. That is off limits, even if you were of age.” He placed your duffle on an ottoman that was placed at the end of the bed, “Do you need any essentials? Toothbrush, toothpas-”

“I have everything, thanks.” You took in the sight of the bedroom, out of all the rooms you had lived in, many in which you had to share with others, none compared to this one. This one felt inviting. It felt warm.

It felt different.

“Everything okay?” Tim asked.

You gave him a nod, “Yeah, perfect!”

“Alright, I’ll be in the living room watching a game that started an hour ago, if you need me. You hungry?”

“Nah, I’m good,” as if on cue, your stomach made a loud noise.

“it says otherwise,” Tim smirked, “I’ll order some pizza. I’ll let you get settled in, feel free to make yourself at home alright?”

You gave him a nod, watching as he walked out of the room. You weren’t sure what to do first, to unpack your things or take a shower. Should you unpack your things, if you were going to be sent somewhere else tomorrow? You let out a sigh, laying on the bed, you couldn’t help but wonder, What if you just stayed here instead?

No, you didn’t want to be more of burden to Tim than you already were. He had done enough for you and was already extending his kindness by letting you stay the night. No need to extend it any further. For now, you were going to allow yourself to enjoy this comfort. To enjoy the warmth of the invitation.

Taglist: @daffodil0darling

#The rookie #tim bradford x teen!reader #tim breadford x reader #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x teen!Foster!reader #tim bradford x Foster!teen!reader #dad!tim bradford #tim bradford rookie #tim bradford fic #lucy chen #the rookie fanfic #tim bradford x daughter!reader #tim bradford x you

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wandafiction · 9 months ago

Text

Just Us - Series List

Y/n is a multimillionaire. Wanda Maximoff is a divorced mum of two twin boys who is trying her best. What happens when their paths cross at a club and Y/n takes Wanda home for the night?

Warnings: This story is an 18+ read, Minors DNI, contains talks and description of Death, Accidents, Injury, Child Loss, Abuse (Physical and Emotional), Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Suggestive themes, Smut (Each Chapter With Themes Explained), Angst (Lots of It), And Some Fluff Thrown in because I felt bad. Top Reader, Bottom Wanda

Each chapter will come with their own warnings.

This is a story that I have put up on my Wattpad and my Ao3 and thought I would share it here for more of you wonderful people. I do hope you enjoy this read. There will be mistakes here and there and maybe some incorrect translations.

So this is an AU story with the MCU characters. So the ages and story lines with be changed and different from that in the movies.

I will right some history for each character as the story progresses just so ages and other things make sense.

All the Character's in this are played by their respective actors and certain aspects of the MCU have been added in. But once again its not going to be an alternative marvel story it is a completely different universe.

I don't own any if the MCU characters.

Master List

Chapter List

Chapter 1 - Yours or Mine

Chapter 2 18+ - First Time

Chapter 3 - How Much

Chapter 4 18+ - Beautiful

Chapter 5 - Accent

Chapter 6 - The Twins

Chapter 7 - Just Add 8

Chapter 8 - Panic Attack

Chapter 9 - Sounds Like A date

Chapter 10 - Happy Tears

Chapter 11 - Twenty Percent

Chapter 12 - Favourite Colour

Chapter 13 - Ex-husbands Clothes

Chapter 14 18+ - Trust is Not Like Candy

Chapter 15 - Morning Bliss

Chapter 16 - Sisterly Advice

Chapter 17 - Lunch Date

Chapter 18 - Not By Blood, By Choice

Chapter 19 18+ - Frozen Peas

Chapter 20 - Scarlet Witch

Chapter 21 - Iron Man

Chapter 22 18+ - Love Language

Chapter 23 - The Friends

Chapter 24 - Hela's Kitchen

Chapter 25 - The Question

Chapter 26 - From Second To First

Chapter 27 - Mr Blue Sky

Chapter 28 - Protective Friend

Chapter 29 - It's Real To Me

Chapter 30 - Pile On

Chapter 31 18+ - Water Fight

Chapter 32 - Head Scratches

Chapter 33 - Billy's Discovery

Chapter 34 - Superhero Trio

Chapter 35 - Pancakes and L Bombs.

Chapter 36 - 10 Out Of 10 Dive

Chapter 37 - Tickle Monster

Chapter 38 - Sarah Stark

Chapter 39 - Love Persevering

Chapter 40 - First Meeting

Chapter 41 - Hear, Listen, Take It In

Chapter 42 - Touch

Chapter 43 - Mockingbird

Chapter 44 - Family

Chapter 45 - Search Party

Chapter 46 - Bowl Of Popcorn

Chapter 47 - Pet Names

Chapter 48 18+ - Trying Something New

Chapter 49 - French Braids

Chapter 50 - Not Taking Advantage

Chapter 51 - To Understand Someone

Chapter 52 - The Row

Chapter 53 18+ - I Need You

Chapter 54 - Your Flaws Are Your Strengths

Chapter 55 18+ - Jealousy

Chapter 56 - I Can't Be Here

Chapter 57 - Stephanie Grace Turner

Chapter 58 - Zak The Waiter

Chapter 59 18+ - Declarations

Chapter 60 - Clingy

Chapter 61 - Triple Chocolate Brownies

Chapter 62 - Watch Me

Chapter 63 - Grown-Up Conversations

Chapter 64 - A+

Chapter 65 18+ - Dynamic

Chapter 66 - You Don't Get It

Chapter 67 - Conditioned

Chapter 68 - Selachimorpha

Chapter 69 - Beed Stroganoff

Chapter 70 - Ruby-Throated Hummingbird

Chapter 71 - Realisations

Chapter 72 - Princess

Chapter 73 - The Talk

Chapter 74 - Black Widow

Chapter 75 - Can I Join You

Chapter 76 - Люли, люли, люленьки

Chapter 77 - Moose

Chapter 78 - Aurora Borealis

Chapter 79 - Calgary

Chapter 80 18+ - Mirror

Chapter 81 - Massage and Important Conversations

Chapter 82 - Banff

Chapter 83 - Strawberries

Chapter 84 - Bayushki Bayu

Chapter 85 - Cookies

Chapter 86 18+ - Control

Chapter 87 - Hyper Puppy

Chapter 88 - Treehouse

Chapter 89 - 312

Chapter 90 - Forgiveness

Chapter 91 18+ - Always Feel Good

Chapter 92 - Your Third Love

Chapter 93 18+ - Daddy

Chapter 94 - Home

Chapter 95 - Stalker

Chapter 96 - Can't Catch A Break

Chapter 97 18+ - Mile High Club

Chapter 98 - Happy

Chapter 99 - Halloween

Chapter 100 - What's In The Box?

Chapter 101 - Hired

Chapter 102 - I've Got You

Chapter 103 - Missed Morning Message

Chapter 104 - Someone I Would Like You To Meet

Chapter 105 - Sis

Chapter 106 - Soulmates

Chapter 107 - Eleos

Chapter 108 - I Called Her Mom

Chapter 109 - Suka

Chapter 110 - How Have I Made It Worse?

Chapter 111 - What Scares You?

Chapter 112 - I Thought I Was Helping

Chapter 113 - What If They Leave?

Chapter 114 - Yelena!

Chapter 115 - Puppy In Training

Chapter 116 - Your Wish Is My Command

Chapter 117 - Morning Sex

Chapter 118 - Safe

Chapter 119 - Work On Yourself

Chapter 120 - Happy Thanksgiving

Chapter 121 - I Hate This

Chapter 122 - To Be A Deer

Chapter 123 - Is Love Enough?

Chapter 124 - Let's Go Out Out

Chapter 125 - Feeling Of Rejection

Chapter 126 - You Should Hate Me

Chapter 127 - You Ready?

Chapter 128 - Pietro

Chapter 129 - Questions And Opinions

Chapter 130 - What Are You Up To?

Chapter 131 - When Pigs Fly

Chapter 132 - Science Lesson

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda smut #wanda maximoff smut #bottom wanda #bottom wanda maximoff #sub wanda #sub wanda maximoff #top reader #bottom wanda x top reader #sub wanda maximoff x top reader #bottom wanda maximoff x top reader #sub wanda x top reader #marvel au #Just Us Series

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slackerlifewhere · 6 months ago

Text

TCF is all about healing

- This is a review about the novel.

There's possible SPOILERS for readers who haven't finished reading the first volume.

___

When I first picked up the novel, I didn't have high expectations. After reading a lot of stories that end up disappointing me because of how the author eventually adds romance or harems into the story because their main character apparently needs a romantic relationship to feel good about themselves, I thought that Trash of the Count's Family will be the same thing further down the line.

But damn, did the author prove me wrong.

In the first few chapters, the novel's entire vibe was almost unnoticeable. Sure, there were some small details like him not being used to extravagant clothes or finding a simple meal delicious, but it wasn't obvious. It made me raise my eyebrow but I simply thought that he's a simple salaryman or something.

The first lines about him not having anyone who would miss him if he's gone in his previous world can be excused as him having no lingering attachments. And honestly, some transmigration/isekai stories do have their main characters having no attachments in their previous world. So it makes sense and it didn't alert me of what could've possibly happened to Cale, former Kim Rok Soo, for him to be so aloof and calm at the forced transmigration.

And then...he thought about poverty and pity when interacting with On and Hong. That was the first sign that he may have left a few lines out of his introduction.

It steadily got worse when he was talking to Choi Han about him being used to the cruelty of people like Venion. And then, at the first meeting with Raon, he appeared as if he understood the hopelessness of a child under an abusive adult's hand.

That's when I finally thought that TCF is a story about healing. And I was pleasantly surprised.

Sure, there's action, drama, and comedy, but TCF is mainly about moving on or healing from past hurts. There are moments when it can be called "cliche" but TCF is unique in the way it portrays Cale and his relationships. There's the found family trope that I love but what I love the most about the story is how these characters who have lost something or were about to lose something if OG Cale didn't make the deal with God of Death to have KRS replace him, is slowly understanding that they're not alone and that they can improve as a person if given the chance.

It's heart-warming and completely unexpected. I didn't read the first chapter expecting this fantasy-themed action novel to be about this.

OG Cale, Choi Han, Raon, On and Hong, Lock, Taylor and Cage, Alberu, the Dark Elves, Mary, and so many characters paved the way for me to completely fall in love with this novel.

If I sound like I'm exaggerating, then I don't care because this novel is just beautiful.

What completely blew my mind is the final reveal of Cale's past as Kim Rok Soo.

Listen, I have a love-hate relationship with KR survival novels involving monsters and dungeons and the freaking apocalypse. I love some of them and I can't stand the others. But I did not expect that Kim Rok Soo was in a world trying to survive from the effects of the apocalypse.

My first reaction was "What the actual fuck" because I 100% did not expect for the story to go that way. And my second thought was "So that's why!" Because it finally explains why he hates "papercuts"! This guy is so good at making big things about himself sound so small that it left me stunned when the big reveal happened!

I wanna slap him and hug him at the same time.

It explains why he's so good at being a commander. It explains why he's used to getting hurt or why he hates the thought of his friends and family dying with him as the survivor (I believe he has a survivor's guilt?). It explains everything.

He may be in a new world but he's still stuck in his past no matter how much he says about not thinking about what-ifs and his past. The time he spends in this new world is him slowly realizing that he's not alone and he doesn't have to be so scared.

And when I finally thought that I'm done being surprised, OG Cale appears and flips everything I knew about the character. They talk about how content they are with their new identities. They smile. They're happy. And that proves why this novel is about healing and not the simple transmigration novel full of action and comedy. Instead of getting angry at Kim Rok Soo, former Cale Henituse, for the deal with God of Death, he's just happy for the man and for himself. I just love how the author doesn't forget about Kim Rok Soo's sacrifices and rewards him with a happy life with his mother.

It's so hard not to finish the novel within weeks because of how good it is. It can be fast in some parts for the action, which makes sense since everything is happening at once. But there are also slow emotional moments that keep reminding me why I love this novel.

So yeah, this is my review about TCF. It's not a perfect novel but it's a good novel about healing and family. And I'm waiting for the second volume to be done so I can finally read the rest.

#tcf #tcf cale #tcf novel #tcf manhwa #tcf cale henituse #cale henituse #lcf cale #lcf novel #lcf #raon miru #tcf raon #kim rok soo #kim roksu #lcf manhwa

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ambrosiagoldfish · 9 months ago

Note

HI! Can I request Vox, husk or anyone else with a s/o who has an addiction problem?

Yes I know my Grammar and punctuation is out of line 🙏🏽

Hazbin Hotel x Addict!Reader

(Vox, Husk, and Angel Dust)

Viewer Discretion is Advised!

Warning: Drug/Alcohol Abuse, Gn!Reader, Reader being defensive, happy-ish endings.

Request Box: Open

Word count: 1170

A/n: Hi! Thank you for the request! This is my first time writing both Vox and Husk so I had to do some research (and by research, I mean reading 2+ hours of how other write them) to get an idea of their main characterization.

I really enjoyed writing this as I personally have my own experiences with addicts and how it’s affected me as a person. So this was also a little bit of a vent post if anything. I also added Angel cause I think it fits the theme but also he’s one of my comfort characters and writing for him made me happy.

Hope you enjoy <3

Proofread like once so sorry for any mistakes!

Vox

He’s used to being friends/knowing addicts. I mean one of his closest allies (And TOTES not previous hook-up buddy) Valentino, is also an addict who also employs many as well. So he’s not a stranger to it.

So mostly he’s indifferent to it, almsot desensitized to it. He doesn’t really see a danger to it, I mean we’re in hell and you can’t exactly OD and die

But of course, death isn’t the only thing that can happen when you're an addict. The breakdown of you as a person often happens, as well as you being reckless with money. And this is where Vox starts to have a problem.

If you’re in a relationship with Vox, then clearly you mean a lot to him, he may not be the most expressive about it but he does. So to see the partner that he has opened up to and grown attached to deteriorate slowly in front of him is something he refuses to accept.

So one day he cancels a meeting with his staff and calls you to his office so you two will be alone. When you get there he gives you a cup of coffee and you catch up a bit. How was your day? Have you ate yet? Those kinds of things.

Until finally he decides to just break open the floodgates with one simple statement.

“Darling… I think you should get clean”

You were caught off guard at first

“It’s fine, What’s the problem? we’re in hell”

He then comes out with his honest opinion

“*Sigh* I know it’s hell and you can’t die… but surely you can see how it would make me a bit… worried for you.”

He paused

“I mean even last week you spent all the allowance I gave you on it and you would have starved if I didn’t buy you food, surely you can see why it’s a fucking problem!”

Eventually after talking and depending on how it goes you either agree to go clean or it ends with an argument and he’ll just try again later.

If you agree, he’ll make sure he’s with you ever step of your sobriety. Considering he’s one of the top rising Overlords and owns VoxTech he’s got money so He’ll higher the best people to help you go clean(Do therapist exist in hell?)

“Thank you dear, you have no idea how much this means to me”

Husk

Similar to Vox in a lot of ways but also really different. He himself is an addict with alcohol so he clearly understands the struggles of it.

He has lots of walls up but for someone who “lost the ability to love” he sure does care a lot for you. I don’t think he would try a get you to go clean, at least not right away (or even at the beginning of the relationship) simply cause he thinks he doesn’t have a right to judge. So in all honesty he might just let you be.

That is until he realizes that you do it to forget things and ignore your problems/past. He knew first hand that drowning your sorrows away with your choice of addictive vice did nothing but harm you.

Then when you two are alone at his bar he’ll talk to you about it in a similar way he did with Angel. Perhaps a bit more softer than he did with Angel but even then “softer” is a bit of an overstatement.

“Look, I know you got a lot of shit that you don’t want to think about… but doing this *sigh* it’s not going to work, at least not in the long term.”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

He laughs. I mean, you were right. He was single handedly the worst person to be judging you. But surely you can understand his point of view, right?

Either way though, he leaves it alone again. Occasionally bringing it up when you’re both alone. He expresses the same sentiment about it each time hoping that eventually, hopefully…you’ll come to see from his perspective.

When you do finally see that he’s worried for you and understand why, you agree to go clean. Which, for once in a long while, made his supposedly cold dead heart melt.

“Glad you finally came to your senses… Seriously, I’m glad…”

Angel

He is THE addict of the show, so obviously he knows what you are going through and THEN some. Now,. Here’s the thing, how he handles it depends HEAVILY on when exactly you got with him/when you started having you addiction problem.

If you started dating him when you already were an addict he most definitely wouldn’t question anything about it. Hell, chances are you both might have taken part in it together. And it’s only when he starts making progress in the hotel (post EP4) is when he starts realizing how bad of an influence you both were on each other.

If you started sometime AFTER you both started dating then this boy would honestly feel terrible about it, ESPECIALLY after EP4 when he actually started being sober more often. He’d feel like he was a bad influence on you and that it was his fault you turned to your addiction.

Either way though, he will eventually realize that he doesn’t want you to be/continue to be on the same path he was. He’d talk to Charlie about arranging you to stay in the hotel, either in your own room or you guys could share one (he would honestly prefer the latter) and then after the preparations are made he would finally ask you too

Angel wasn’t expecting it to be easy, he gets what it’s like to suddenly be asked to go clean. And he knows how addicts act when they don’t get there vices, how he acts. So he mentally prepared himself for the worst first before asking you to come over and talk.

“Uh… Y/n can I talk to you about somethin’?”

You nod your head

“I’ve been thinking and… I think you should crash here at the hotel with me… and’ go clean.”

You only laugh “Angie I’m glad this hotel thing is workin’ for ya but that’s not really my style. No- I mean, I’m fine!”

Angel knows he put you on the spot, so he lightens off a bit but continues pressing on. He explains how he feels and how he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you, to end up where he is. The poor boy starts crying honestly with how much he’s worried. He rarely opens up to people so this was a big step for him.

Seeing how much he cared and worried about you really put into perspective how important this was to him. So you agreed after some thinking.

“*sniff* thank you Baby, I’ll be there with you every step of the way… I love ya’ you know.”

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spikedfearn · 2 months ago

Text

I Said Just a Little Bit, Then I Got a Taste of It

Chapter III

bjorn x fem!reader

summary: After being transferred to another sector of Jackson's Star you reluctantly befriend a ragtag group of people with the exception of one cocky asshole who knows just how to get under your skin.

On the surface, you hate each other, but after experiencing a particularly harrowing event together, the two of you grow closer than anyone else could ever imagine.

warnings: secret friends with benefits, enemies to lovers, angst, alcohol/drug use, explicit sexual themes, non-linear narrative, side rainkay, trauma bonding, near death experience, brief mention of child abuse, more tags to be added

a/n: haha don't hate me but I split the chapter up again! that means there's no smut in this chapter either but it was getting long and the place I chose to leave off felt like a natural end. that being said this chapter is entirely you x bjorn-centric and there is a lot of pay off!

tags: @asvtrials @urfavhanna @orangebeauty (comment if you wanna be notified when a new chapter drops)

wc: 4.4k

Masterlist Next Chapter

Bjorn is the fucking worst.

A marginal part of you just assumed that maybe he was an angry drunk following your little exchange in the bar but no—he's just angry.

Despite your previous apprehension you begin to accept Kay’s invites to join her and the others whenever they get together, which is a lot. You know you're treading in dangerous territory, allowing yourself to get close to them, but you're powerless to stop it, unable to recall the last time you had this much fun, almost too much, feels a little wrong, like it should be illegal.

The only downside is dealing with Kay’s asshole cousin Bjorn, like stepping on a dull thumbtack you can't dislodge when you see him joking around with Tyler, his eyes narrowing as soon as he notices you approach, like he has some score to settle.

You don't let it get you, not immediately, not letting him run you off out of spite, just as petty as he is.

You can only hold your tongue for so long however, before reacting explosively to whatever insult is thrown your way, giving him exactly what he wants.

The others stop trying to intervene after so long, when they realize neither of you are willing to back down, deciding to just roll their eyes and ignore your immature back and forth, splintering off to start a new conversation of their own.

It's another one of those nights, the tension between the two of you thick, thicker than the smoke coming from the bonfire, gathered in the quarry again. It's a regular hangout spot for them, liking the exclusivity of its location, far from the hustle and bustle of the streets alive at night, when the majority of the colonists who’re assigned to work in the mines aren't slaving away underground.

You and Bjorn have been taking digs at each other all night—what else is new?—cycling between something passive aggressive and flippant, or overt and direct, depending on how irritated whatever he says makes you.

“Always so hot and bothered, ain'tcha’ sweetheart? If ya’ shut up and c’mere I can give ya’ a real mouthful,” he smirks, grabbing himself through the loose crotch of his frayed cargo pants.

Disgust pinches the bridge of your nose, nice and tight, hissing back, “ugh, you're such a pig. I’m thoroughly convinced the shitty apple didn't fall far from the shitty tree,” words soaked in venom, the aftertaste of acid burning the lining of your esophagus.

It's like pulling the pin on a grenade, watching the way everyone reacts, a collective gasp shredding through the calm. Your revulsion is replaced by one of confusion, head cocking to the side as your posture wilts, losing all strength in your shoulders. You don't get why, not when you've said far, far, worse to one another, made a little game of it even.

You don't see the usual anger or arrogance you've become accustomed to. Instead he looks hurt. Wounded. Blinking twice as fast like he's trying to stop his eyes from watering only to catch himself, schooling his face into something neutral, something mean.

Bracing yourself for the fallout, Bjorn does something completely unexpected—he leaves. Doesn't scream or swear or snark back, just silently turns and retreats, gravel loudly crunching beneath the black worn-in soles of his stormer boots, not sparing a single glance your way while he does.

“Not cool dude,” Navarro chides in your direction, slinging the strap of the backpack she bought the beer in over her shoulder before jogging off in hot pursuit of her brother, “Bjorn, wait up man!”

It's enough to kill the whole vibe, everyone awkwardly parting ways not long after. You return to your apartment sooner than predicted, playing the scene over and over in your head as you try and decipher what could've triggered that response, like he was on the verge of tears. And the others, with the exception of Andy, all seemed floored, clearly clued in on some context you're missing.

But the thing is, why should you even care? For Bjorn and his infantile way of coping with whatever he's dealing with? When he's not once shown you the same consideration in return? You shouldn't.

At least—that's what you tell yourself as you strip down to your underwear and crawl into the familiar warmth of your bed, cocooning your body in your blankets as the exhaustion and sleeping pills kick in, lulling you into a restless sleep.

A sharp knock on the front door startles you awake, eyes bouncing off the walls of your cramped room before they're drawn sideways, finding the analog clock sitting on your bedside table.

It's late in the afternoon, not nearly as late as you usually allow yourself to sleep on days off, still, that's not what's currently puzzling your still-waking brain.

There's a followup knock, reminding you why you're awake in the first place, begrudgingly removing yourself from the comfort of your sheets while you try and figure out who'd be visiting you right now, pulling on yesterday's jeans left crumpled on the floor by your bed.

Maybe it's Kay stopping by to check on you. She looked like she wanted to say something last night, after Tyler smothered the bonfire and everyone had left but ultimately never did, choosing to run and catch up with Rain, weaving their fingers together once she did.

You swear though, if it’s just some corpo from the council coming to assign you mandatory overtime you might just take the automatic jail sentence.

It ends up being neither. To your surprise it’s Tyler, fist raised like he’s getting ready to knock again, immediately taking one step down on the concrete steps leading up to your doorway to give you some room, cheeks a little red.

“Sorry, didn’t meanta’ wake you,’” Tyler greets, probably taking note of your unkempt appearance, from your tangled hair to the rapid flutter of your lashes, trying to blink the sleep out of them.

“Could—would you mind if we had a chat?” He amends, adding on, “it’ll only take a sec,” after the fact, the porch light above your head just bright enough to illuminate the hope on his face. Well, this is new.

You’ve grown to like Tyler and the company he provides, always thoughtful and in high spirits, regardless if he just clocked out of a sixteen hour shift or not, hands shaking and wrapped in dirty gauze from the wounds he sustained.

That being said, you’ve never met up just the two of you, only ever spending time in facilitated group settings outside of the mines.

Nonetheless you move aside, a nonverbal queue to come in that he readily accepts, maneuvering around you to step into the tiny kitchenette adjacent to your bedroom. You watch as he gazes around, taking in the surroundings like all the apartments the colonists reside in don't look exactly the same. Albeit yours is pretty bare, not seeing a point in decorating when you could be transferred again at a moment's notice.

“So,” you say, shattering the quiet, leaning back against the laminate counter, arms folded out in front of you with one foot crossed over the other, right heel lifted off the tile floor, “what did you wanna talk about?”

There’s little doubt in your head as to what it's pertaining to, suspicion shortly confirmed by the sheepish look in Tyler's eyes when he meets yours again,“it's about Bjorn.”

“I figured as much,” you sigh, waiting for him to go on, his hand coming up to anxiously rub over the back of his neck.

“Right, so. Is’not my place to share but Bjorn has a lot of baggage there—with his family. It's a super sore subject for ‘im,’ so when you said that it kinda dug all that shit up.”

Tyler continues, cutting you off before you have a chance to interrupt, “And I know you didn’t mean it, that you don't owe ‘im anything, and you certainly don't hafta’ listen to me but would you please just. Talk to ‘im?’

You can tell Tyler means well, that he wants to smooth things over between the two of you and, while you’d never readily admit it aloud, you do feel a little bad for Bjorn. Bjorn. Sunlight must be shining through the perpetual polluted cloud cover from up above.

It’s just, you know what it’s like, dealing with the aftermath of familial trauma, trying to navigate a world that’s taken so much and given nothing back. Learned to bare your teeth rather than your soul, the only guaranteed method to alleviate the emotional damage life on Jackson’s Star brings.

Maybe Kay is right. Maybe you and Bjorn are alike.

And maybe Tyler is too, about talking to Bjorn, maybe it's time you two talk it out, try and find common ground so the others don't have to play referee anymore.

“Fine,” you agree,“I’ll talk to him.”

All the tension in Tyler's shoulders melts away, a relieved sigh deflating his chest, like he had been steeling himself for a potential refusal.

“Lovely, that's—thank you. Really.” Tyler beams, drawing you into an unexpected hug, a quick, thankful little squeeze despite your arms still being crossed.

Tyler pulls away so you can face each other again, “I know he can be a total fuckin’ wanker but he's one a’ the only people Kay and I got left. And Kay’s got you now and—you don't have to like ‘im. Hell I don't half the time, but if you could just try and tolerate each other maybe?”

A giggle bubbles up out of you, offering a reluctant nod in return, “sure, I can try. No promises though.”

“S’okay. I don't expect Bjorn to listen anyways but if I can at least get you on board, things should be smooth sailin’ yanno?”

You doubt it'll be that easy, that Bjorn will even be receptive to talking but you're willing to honor Tyler's request and try, for him, Kay and the others.

Once Tyler leaves, you decide it's better to just rip the bandaid off and go looking for Bjorn, who's apparently putting in overtime, something he's prone to doing whenever he needs to blow off some steam according to his older cousin.

You clock in and check out a drill, the only way low-level colonists gain entry down here, lugging it through one of the series of carved paths towards the sound of shrill cogging you hear echoing off the walls just up ahead in the distance.

Bjorn isn't hard to find. He's the only one laboring on his day off, the only one in this section of the mines at least, save for the lone guard stationed at the mouth of the tunnel, paying you little mind as you pass.

The drill head Bjorn's wielding bores into the hard rock, heavy handed from the anger he's trying to work through, sparks flying off as a result.

Your stomach swoops low when he looks at you, anticipating some kind of reaction, his muscles sagging just a little but, like the guard, he goes back to working, drilling a little harder than before. You can tell this conversation will be like pulling teeth.

“Bjorn,” you call, trying to be heard over the sound of grating metal, pulling your goggles up and your mask down, letting it hang around your neck. “Bjorn!”

The lean lines in his forearms built over time flex harder, highlighted by the sweat gathering there, gloved fingers constricting around the worn handle of the power tool as he readjusts his grip. Even through the face shield you can tell he's gritting his teeth, grinding them just as hard as the drill against the rock, the muscles in his neck straining from the way his jaw is set so incredibly tight.

“Bjorn!” You repeat, growing frustrated, taking the risk of losing a finger or two by pushing at Bjorn's shoulder, “can you please just—look at me?”

He’s quick to snatch your wrist, startling you, strong enough to keep the drill upheld with his other arm while he thumbs the off switch.

“Wha’ in the bloody fuck d’ya want?!” He snarls, eyes narrowed and brows pinched, twisting your arm to hold it down in between you, mindful not to actually hurt you.

“M’sorry,” you mumble, avoiding the angry scowl he's wearing, now the one unable to make eye contact.

“Wha’ tha’ fuck was tha’?!”

Your throat feels rougher than sandpaper, finding it harder to swallow than the pills you pop every night. “I said I'm—sorry.”

The laugh he gives in response sounds hollow, bitter, “oh thas’ bleedin’ rich comin’ from you. Come ta’ say sorry so you can sleep a little easier tonight, have ya?’ Well I don't want ur fuckin’ pity.”

Your head whips up at that, doing your best to keep composed, despite your fight or flight urging you to combat his animosity with your own.

“I didn't come to apologize to make myself feel better, that's not who I am. Whether we get along or not doesn't matter. I realized I crossed a line and you deserve better than that. That's why I came to say sorry.”

His face softens just a bit, just long enough for you to notice before his expression hardens again, lips parting to say something more but he never gets the chance to, interrupted by a low ominous groan that shakes the entire roof of the tunnel you're standing in. Shit, that doesn't sound good.

You share a look of dread then, before either of you can react, a crevasse three feet wide fractures up the entire length of the rock right above your heads as the deafening roar of a cave-in drowns out every other noise.

The only thing you feel is Bjorn’s calloused hand still holding onto your wrist roughly yanking you into his body right as everything collapses around you.

The first thing you register is the fact you're still alive. Aching all over and windpipe tight from inhaling the harsh toxins released into the air all at once, but—alive.

The next is the ringing in your ears, a high frequency whine that sounds like a mortar shell just went off by your head, leaving you disoriented, possibly concussed.

And the last is the solid body of muscle you're lying on top of, the same one that just saved you from biting it several moments ago.

He's sprawled out on his back, the rapid wide-eyed blinking and quick rise and fall of his chest trying to draw air back into his lungs an indication he's in much the same condition as you, goggles cracked and his face shield missing.

Your breath catches when you notice how close the two of you are, so close you can see the dirt clinging to his goatee and the dried cracks of his chapped lips, breath smelling like rolling tobacco and polar ice gum. As much as you hate it, you can't help but think how attractive the view is.

He seems to regain his focus, looking down to lock gazes with yours, realizing the position you're in. His eyes roving over your face as if he's appraising you, as if he's checking you out.

“Ahem,” you clear your throat, the severely dim lighting disguising the blush bleeding into your cheeks, rolling off and away from him, hoping he didn't feel the rapidity of your heart beating against your sternum like a battering ram. “Thanks.”

Once the kicked-up soot and debris has settled a bit you take in everything around you—what's left of it. Both your headlamps are busted, both of which you discard along with the goggles and gloves, drills buried somewhere underneath the rubble you just were, the entrance to the tunnel you're in decimated to a cataclysmic degree, the only way in or out. You guys are trapped.

“Ah fuck,” Bjorn swears, grasping the utterly abysmal situation you’ve both found yourselves in. “This is bad.”

“Thank you for your valuable insight. Where would I be without your brilliant observation skills,” you snark, the two of you sitting up to face each other, backs against either side of the walls that are still intact, knees drawn up to your chests to give each other a little more leg room.

“Shoulda just let ya’ get crushed by them rocks,” he huffs, “woulda saved me tha’ headache. And tha’ oxygen.”

He's right about the oxygen. In an enclosed space like this with no ventilation, you're both in short supply, aware you'll run out of it soon enough. Even if the collapse didn't initially kill you, the suffocation inevitably will.

“I seriously can't believe I'm gonna die down here with you of all people.”

“Ah yah,’ cuz this is how I wanted ta’ spend ma’ last moments before I kicked the bucket,” he rolls his eyes, untying the simple knot of his red bandana, which is grimier than usual due to the ash and sediment lingering in the air, setting it on the ground beside him.

Bjorn pulls a rolled joint out of the breast pocket of his shirt, lighting up as soon as it's in his mouth. You almost tell him to put it out so you can preserve the limited oxygen you have but ultimately you elect to stay quiet. What's it matter anyway? Dying sooner might just be a mercy.

“How much ya’ wanna bet some synth fuck’s up there right now tellin’ tha' council we're not worth tha' time or trouble?”

“You really have it out for synthetics, don't you?”

You were aware he didn't like Andy, an opinion he made known every time Rain brought him to group hangouts but you didn't realize it ran that deep, never connecting the dots between his insults and the prejudice he clearly harbors.

He chuckles, smoke billowing out of his mouth as he does so, a pungent cloud of weed looming over you, “ever tha' observant one, aren't cha babes?”

“Fuck you,” you bristle, arms loosely wrapping around your shins, fingers lacing together just below the kneecaps. Although, to be fair you did more or less say the same thing to him not even five minutes ago.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” the few oil lamps the cave-in didn't snuff out highlighting the wink he throws your way. “And if ya’ must know—yeah, I do. Every fuckin' last one of ‘em.”

Deciding to tread carefully you simply ask, “why?” exercising a level of caution you normally never do.

Silence drags between you, expecting Bjorn to ignore your probably invasive question when, to your surprise he replies, answering with a painful degree of honesty that nearly blindsides you, “my mum. She worked in tha’ mines like most o’ us had to. When I was eight, there wuz a collapse much like this one. ‘Cept she was one o’ three miners on one side o’ the tunnel while there were a dozen in tha’ otha. A synth convinced tha’ council her life wuzn’t worth theirs. So—they let her die. Scared. Confused. Probably hopin’ for rescue. She always told me ta' keep tha' light on fo’er when she'd tuck me inta bed before her shift every night so she could find’er way back ta’ me.”

He yanks out two sets of dog tags tucked underneath his shirt by the chain, one of them his and the other presumably his mother's, just like the ones you’re wearing, the corporation’s way of identifying bodies of miners lost, his thumb running over the engraving etched into one of the nameplates.

Sympathy swells inside of you listening to him, “that's horrible.”

You had assumed Bjorn's past was traumatic based on the little information Tyler was willing to share but you never expected it to hit so close to home.

“I get it,” you murmur, head tipping back to stare at the chiseled rock and remaining support beams to hold back any stray tears that might threaten to fall, clenching at your dirty pant legs a little tighter.

“My mom. She was pregnant and forced to work down in the mines until the shit she was inhaling induced her prematurely. Guess toxic fumes are bad for a pregnancy,” you roll your eyes, biting off a sarcastic, watery chuckle. “She ended up dying during childbirth.”

There's a pause, your words hanging heavy in the air. You've never shared that with anyone who didn't already know. Word traveled fast around each sector, gossip the only news worth spreading, people talking about the girl orphaned by a reckless mother who should've known better. Fuck, it makes you sick just thinking about it.

When Bjorn speaks it's soft, comforting. “Thas’ horrible. So thas’ why you been volunteerin’ for Kay.”

“Yep,” you confirm, popping the p, head rolling forward to lock eyes again, watching him put out the remnants of his joint on the wall next to him before flicking the butt into the pile of debris.

“And ur dad?” he asks, the bend of his elbows resting on either one of his knees, leaving his forearms to dangle.

“Never knew him,” you shrug, becoming detached at the very mention of him, like you’re discussing a stranger, which in a way you are, “he left right after knocking my mom up. Didn't want the added responsibility of raising a kid.”

“Fuck, I wish my old man woulda jus' dipped out from tha’ start. Woulda been the only decent thing he ever did fo'us,” Bjorn spits, words dripping with vitriol, clearly holding a hatred reserved for his father only.

“What happened to him?” No longer trying to tiptoe around the questions that pop into your head since you're both over sharing. Since you're both dead anyway.

“He’s still around but 'e's not around if ya know whadd’i mean. After my mom died 'e started boozin’ heavily to deal widit. When he wasn't in the mines 'e was out gettin’ piss drunk. Stupid prick gave fuck all about me and Navarro.”

There's a growl that rumbles deep in his lower register, rotating his arms so they're pointed wrist-up towards the ceiling. You follow his line of sight, seeing scars littered across his skin, raised and round and purple from healing. Cigarette burns.

“Bjorn…” you trail off, a level of sadness you haven't felt in a long time settling deep in your skin, “That's—what the fuck. Did Jackson’s, did they do anything about it?”

“They don't give a rat's arse, yanno that,” he scowls, but not at you, turning his arms back down, “s’long as I'm alright enough to work they'll overlook a black eye or busted up lip. They can all fuckin’ eat shit far as m' concerned.”

“I'm so fucking sorry about earlier. I really, truly am,” You stress, even more genuine than the initial apology you offered, feeling like a total bitch for what you said to him in the quarry.

He waves you off, combing his fingers through his sweaty, clumped bangs to separate them, “s’alright babes. Already forgiven.”

You never thought you'd say it but you're actually glad Tyler convinced you to talk things out with Bjorn, even if it inevitably did lead to your approaching demise. If, by some miracle, you both survive, maybe you can be friends. At the very least, friendly.

“Can't believe m' gonna die a bloody virgin,” Bjorn groans, head falling back against the rock.

“Really?” You laugh, a full-body chuckle that has you coughing into a loosely curled fist immediately after, your lungs burning from all the shit you've breathed in, “that's your concern?”

“Uh yah! What else do I hafta' be worried about? Dying? That shit’s imminent at this point, hate ta’ break it ta’ ya’ darling.”

He has a point. Besides, maybe focusing on a smaller problem will diminish some of the fear about the larger one at hand.

“You're right,” you concede, though you can't help but be surprised by the revelation, with the way Bjorn carries himself he seemed like the type to sleep around with anyone willing to let him, “that does suck.”

“Oh? So ur not one then?” he asks, raising an eyebrow that disappears under his hair, curiosity piqued.

“No. Made a few mistakes back in my old sector, had a few one night stands. Nothing serious,” you shrug, indifferent. None of them ever meant something to you anyhow, just a brief period of time when you used alcohol to cope, when you just wanted to feel someone's arms around you.

“Course—I don't hafta’ die a virgin.”

His eyes openly roam over you, from your face down to what he can see of your body with the position you're sitting in, tongue parting his lips to slowly lick over them. You feel your stomach flutter, like you'd just swallowed a congregation of butterflies. Okay, he's definitely checking you out now.

Are you seriously suggesting I sleep with you?” You ask in disbelief, the question entirely rhetorical considering you're the only other person here and he's eyeing you like a prime cut of steak, “what are you, high?”

“Clearly babes. That's beside tha’ point. Wouldn't be tha’ worst thing in tha' world, now would it?”

“It might be,” you retort, “so was this just your plan all along? Get in my pants?”

“Ah yah, I collapsed tha' mine so you'd drop ya' knickers fo' me, fucking come off it. And come with me, why don't ya?’” He smirks, doing that signature cocky head tilt of his.

That's not what you meant. Moreso wondering if that was his goal from the start, the tension between you seeming sexual in retrospect. You spear your bottom lip between your teeth, actually considering the offer, always finding Bjorn annoyingly, stupidly, attractive. Maybe you're the one that's high.

“I—”

As if on queue you hear a familiar rumble, just like the one that trapped you here to begin with, rubble and soot raining down on top of you and Bjorn, looking up just as the ceiling bows.

Bjorn is quicker to react than you are, lunging at you right as one of the wooden support beams gives way and topples sideways, taking another chunk of the mine with it, the both of you avoiding another close call as the tunnel around you continues to shrink and shrink.

This time he ends up on top of you, the full weight of his body pressing down onto yours, his gaze drawing away from the roof to meet yours again, the intensity of his stare causing heat to pool low in your core.

Then he kisses you—and you let him.

#I'm so proud of this one #best chapter i believe #bjorn alien romulus #bjorn alien romulus x reader #bjorn x reader #alien romulus #spike fearn

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sister-lucifer · 8 months ago

Text

A COLLAB WITH @cryptidcircuswrites ! PLEASE CHECK OUT HIS VERSION HERE!

Genre: Gore smut

Summary: A mission goes awry and Toby is shot straight through the skull. Tim decides to take the new hole for a spin, and Toby is more than happy to let him have it.

Content/warnings: OHHH MY GOOOOD DONT FUCKING READ THIS IF YOU HAVE A WEAK STOMACH, Toby literally gets his brain fucked, bullet hole wound fucking, explicit gore, I cannot emphasize this enough STRAIGHT UP PENIS IN BRAIN SEX, brain creampie, guns/shooting/etc, age gap but everyone is a consenting adult, fake out death, Toby vomits a little at the end, cum leaking out of face holes it should never be in, mirror sex, rough dom top Tim, Tim bullies Toby for his trauma regarding his physically abusive father, use of homophobic language/slurs, degradation, just general nastiness, very mean spirited. NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART. THIS IS AS DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT AS IT GETS.

A/N: if you skipped the warnings on this one or didn’t read them all the way, go back and fucking look at all of them, otherwise don’t read.

Breaking and entering.

It’s a routine for Tim and Toby at this point.

Tim can brute force open any door, Toby can pick any lock, and both of them have long since shaken off any qualms about taking a life. They’re skilled at it now, neither of them ever leaving the cabin without their weapon of choice. In a line of work like this one, after all, you can never be too prepared.

This was supposed to be easy.

Three people in the house, a couple and their third wheel squatting in an abandoned vacation home. Bare bones interior, probably no weapons.

Probably.

A lot of good ‘probably’ had done them.

Toby had gone in while Tim stood watch in the doorway, just in case one of their targets tried to run out. His revolver fit into his palm like a glove, his grip confident and ready. He’s done this a million times before.

Tim can only hear the altercation going on in the back rooms of the house, but he has a good idea of what’s happening.

The sound of a hatchet coming down onto a throat.

One down.

A woman screams. Something knocks over, a shelf or a table. A splatter. Silence.

Two down.

A man cries out. Something hits the wall. Rogers swears. There’s a struggle. A gunshot rings out.

…A gunshot.

A gunshot?!

Footsteps.

Fast, frantic footsteps coming down the hallway.

Tim readies himself, aiming towards the dark hall with a hand that is far too steady. He’s holding his breath. The steps are getting closer.

In a split second’s time the last target emerges from the shadows, Tim’s gaze zeroes in on the whites of his eyes and the trigger of his revolver is pulled by a swift finger one, two, then three times.

The shots ring in his ears as the body falls limply to the floor, devoid of life in an instant.

Three down.

But still one bullet unaccounted for.

“Rogers?” Tim calls into the hallway, stepping over the body without looking down.

No answer.

“Rogers!” He says again, with more authority this time.

Nothing.

That little fucker runs his mouth like an engine at all hours of the day, but now he’s quiet?

A stabbing pain of fear twists in Tim’s gut.

Their ‘boss’ won’t let them die, he knows that. The pseudo immortality they’ve been given keeps their bodies functioning and regenerating even after some of the worst injuries one could imagine; he knows that, he’s felt it, and yet…

This silence is sickening.

He can’t stop himself from rushing into the makeshift bedroom, heavy boots on the creaky wood floor announcing his presence before he calls for his partner again.

“Answer me, dammit, Rogers!”

He looks around the room, scanning the blood splattered walls. Two bodies are slumped against them, opposite to each other, one with its neck severed and the head hanging on by a thread of viscera, and the other with half of its innards thrown to the floor. Neither are Toby, he knows that in an instant.

Then his gaze trails to the center of the floor.

The cold washes over him so suddenly he feels faint. He can feel the color draining from his face as he lays eyes on his partner, face down on the ground, a thick splatter of blood painting a moonlit halo around his head.

Or what’s left of it, anyways.

A hastily fired bullet has carved a path through the boy’s skull and out the other side.

Clean through.

Tim’s body seizes with shock, disgust, grief, and everything in between, tensing so suddenly and so harshly he nearly passes out. A hand clamps over his mouth as it opens in a silent scream, a gasp that can’t escape because he can’t breathe. He rushes to the body before he can stop himself.

“Rogers?! Rogers, get up!” He demands, but the way his voice cracks and trembles shows his true fear. He shakes his partner’s still body harshly, desperate to jar him into consciousness.

There’s no movement.

Not a sound.

Tim’s eyes start to wet behind his mask. He shakes harder, even bringing a fist down on his shoulder blade.

Nothing.

“This isn’t fucking funny, Toby!” Tim screams, landing a few more punches on his back, “I’ve seen you take worse than this, get up!”

Not even a twitch.

The realization settles in like splinters under Tim’s skin.

He backs away from the body, the room spinning around him. He grasps at his face under his mask, his lungs starting to expand and restrict so fast it’s painful. There’s a searing panic burning the back of his skull and threatening to engulf his entire body. He stumbles back and falls onto one of the now bloodied mattresses their targets had been sleeping on.

This isn’t happening.

He’s not really gone.

He’s not really gone he’s not really gone he’s not really gone he’s not really gone he’s not really gone—

A sudden noise makes Tim jump out of his skin, his eyes shooting up to find the source of the sound.

Was that a…cough?

He looks down at Toby’s body.

It hasn’t moved.

Maybe it was just air escaping, or some other weird thing bodies do after death. If he didn’t get up already, then he must be…

Tim nearly screams when Toby suddenly splutters and hacks, his body jerking as he fights for air. Tim is frozen in place as he watches the partner he thought was dead slowly struggle to get up, managing to get on his hands and knees. He coughs again, spitting onto the ground and groaning at the unpleasant but not unfamiliar sight of blood.

“Yeugh…god, it’s in m-my nose,” Toby mumbles with a sniffle, wiping his face with his sleeve. He doesn’t notice Tim as he sits up on his knees, inspecting himself in a way that is far too casual.

…He has no idea what just happened.

Tim can feel his eye twitching as he stands up slowly, his frenzied gaze trained on the younger man as he approaches. Toby looks up at the sound of the footsteps, and Tim has to stop himself from reacting to the sight. His body trembles as he forces himself to stay still.

Toby’s right eye is completely gone. There’s not even a shred of the eyeball left, only a pulsing, bloody cavity he instantly recognizes as the entry hole of a bullet.

Toby blinks up at Tim with his remaining eye.

“S-Shit, I must’ve passed out when—bitch!—when h-he hit me, heh. What, you-you thought I was—grrrk!—d-dead for real?” Toby asks with a head tilt and an amused giggle. Tim’s eyes narrow.

Slowly Tim turns his head, following the imaginary trail the bullet would have made based on where Toby fell.

Right there, lodged into the decrepit wall right next to the doorway.

The first bullet.

Clean through, and out the back.

Toby follows his gaze, squinting in the dark to see whatever it is his senior partner is seeing.

“…O-Oh shit,” He mutters, “Talk about a-a close—don’t listen!—a close call—c-call—call me!—hehe…”

Tim stares back at him with a look in his eyes that says ‘You have no fucking idea.’

“…W-Why are you looking at me— a-at me like that?”

Tim looks around. For some reason, he’s not sure how to answer that.

That is, until he lays eyes on a conspicuously mirror shaped object draped in a sheet and pushed into the corner.

Yeah, it’s easier to just show him.

Tim shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he walks over to the mirror, trying not to rush. He’s annoyed with Toby for scaring him like that and nearly bringing him to tears, even if it’s not really his fault. Maybe startling him a bit will take the edge off that embarrassment.

Toby’s eye follows him closely as he walks, then watches as his hand slowly raises to grasp the sheet obscuring the mirror. His brow raises, curiosity piqued.

The sheet is pulled away in an instant. The cloud of dust that results makes Toby cough, trying to wave it away from his face. He squints through the grimy mist, struggling to make out his own reflection in the mirror.

“L-Look, Tim, I don’t know what it-it is that you n-need me to—suck it! fuck you!—see, but I-I don’t— Oh my fucking God?!”

There it is.

Toby crawls closer to the mirror, his remaining eye wider than Tim had ever seen it and the hole where the matching one would’ve been stretching gruesomely.

Tim winces. Toby can’t feel it, even if he could feel pain normally all that nerve damage would make it numb, but Tim can’t stop imagining what it would feel like.

“…Jesus Christ…” Is all Toby can manage as he looks at what remains of his face. He feels around the wound, getting far too close to touching the exposed insides for Tim’s comfort. Toby stares at himself for a long few moments. Tim can’t tell what he’s thinking.

Then Toby turns to his partner, and to Tim’s surprise, he’s sporting the widest, most lopsided grin he’s ever seen, his crooked teeth stained with blood on one side where it runs down his cheek from the wound. Tim holds back a shudder.

“The fuck you cheesin’ for?” Tim growls, walking around behind Toby to see him in the mirror, “You nearly got half your damn face blown off!”

“Relax, o-old man!” Toby replies without missing a beat, “In a-a few days there won’t e-even be a— b-be a mark…”

Tim rolls his eyes behind his mask. That’s true, yes. An injury this extensive will take a bit to regenerate, but it’ll grow back like nothing happened. Still, Toby doesn’t even seem mildly disturbed. He practically saw himself die, and here he is giggling to himself and moving his face in odd ways just to see the horrid wound contort in the mirror. The quiet squelching noises it makes nearly bring Tim to vomit.

“…You’re not even a little put off by the fact that…you know. You’re missing half your fuckin’ face?!”

Toby lets out a sharp laugh at Tim’s outburst, amused by his clear discomfort.

“Don’t be s-such a—bitch! bastard!— baby, I-I think it’s—asshole!—I think it’s k-kinda cool. Besides…”

He turns to look up at Tim, yellow teeth glowing in the moonlight that leaks in through the busted windows.

“…I-I got a brand new hole f-for you to try out.”

Tim gasps in disgust. Before he can think a hand comes up to smack Toby upside the head, though he immediately regrets it when a splatter of blood is thrown to the floor as Toby rocks forward.

“Don’t say shit like that, you dirty fuckin’ pervert!”

Toby nearly breaks out into hysterics at that, grabbing his sides as he laughs like a maniac. His tics increase tenfold at the sudden rush of energy, his fingers flexing unnaturally and tearing at his sweatshirt.

“H-How can I not?! You m-make it so f-fucking—fuck! funny!— fun, haha!” Toby replies, his voice cracking as his head jerks involuntarily in all directions.

Tim crosses his arms, huffing in annoyance but not sure what to say. He can feel his cheeks getting warm under his mask. He hates when Toby laughs at him. It pisses him off like nothing else.

He stares daggers into Toby’s restless reflection as he leans into the mirror to inspect his wound again, mumbling to himself endlessly and doing his best to stay still.

Toby’s rambling starts to fade out as Tim glares at his mirror image. He can feel something dark bubbling up inside of him, its vines sprawling out and over his body as he marinates in his thoughts.

He thought he was gone.

For a second there, he really thought he’d lost Toby for good.

And now here he is, without a care in the world, looking at his own fucking gunshot wound like it’s a new tattoo.

Someone oughta teach this kid a lesson.

Tim’s not sure what comes over him, but something, a nagging little thought has settled into his brain and taken root there. It thumps in the back of his skull like a heartbeat under the floorboards. He pulls one of his hands from its glove, looking down at his bare palm.

“…You think this is all some joke, don’t you?” Tim mutters, forcing the words through gritted teeth. Toby doesn’t even turn to look at him.

“W-Why are so damn u-uptight, old man? It’s not—grrrk!—it’s not like I d-died. Psuedo-immortality, r-remember?”

“But you could’ve. You know at the end of the day you can’t really trust anything that monster gives you. It would kill you in an instant if it felt threatened or betrayed.”

“T-The fuck is your— i-is your problem?!”

Suddenly Toby isn’t all smiles anymore. His head jerks to the side violently, pulling a sickening pop from his neck. Tim is used to these mood swings, but that doesn’t stop the heavy tension that settles over the room.

“Y-You’re always on my back about something, a-aren’t you old man?!” Toby hisses. Tim’s ungloved hand squeezes and flexes at his side.

“You a-always got something to say about m-me, or what I—fucker! shit!—what I-I think, you can never j-just let me—“

Toby is cut off as a high pitched cry is violently forced from his throat, making his body spasm as it dissolves into an animalistic moan like neither of them have ever heard. It feels like every nerve in his body is seizing, splitting apart and contorting under his skin. He almost screams at the feeling, but he can’t manage it. He’s choking on nothing.

There’s a sickening squelch as something is ripped from the back of his skull, and he falls forward onto his hands, dizzy and struggling to breathe.

“W-What…what the f-fuck…was…”

He can’t even finish the sentence between his inability to process the unnatural sensation that just overtook him and the indescribable feeling still rippling through his body.

Slowly he cranes his neck to look back up into the mirror. Instantly his eye is locked onto Tim’s, but he isn’t looking back. He’s staring at something else.

He follows Tim’s gaze down slowly, swallowing thickly with a sudden nervousness. His eye widens as it falls on the thing that has captivated Tim‘s gaze:

His ungloved hand, the middle and ring fingers now dripping with blood and viscera not his own.

No. Fucking. Way.

“Did…d-did you just…”

Tim doesn’t answer.

He doesn’t have to.

For the first time in a long time, Toby is still. His twitching and jerking ceases, his face halts its uncomfortable wrenching; He’s still, and soundless.

There’s a beat of silence where they both just stare at Tim’s bloodied hand, neither of them moving an inch. It’s like time has stopped in this instant. Toby can feel his heartbeat throbbing in his brain. Something in his chest is twisting and turning with a burning emotion he can’t quite place yet.

He doesn’t even have time to process the sudden movement before Tim has plunged his fingers into the wound once again.

This time Toby is forced to watch his reflection in the mirror as Tim violates the gorey cavity, thick digits rooting around inside his head and shooting a new sensation through him with every touch. His entire body stiffens, his mouth falling open involuntarily as he loses control of it. He can feel his senses being reduced to mush as he groans, the endless sound falling from his lips in unintelligible waves. It’s mindless, desperate babbling, but he can’t do anything else.

Toby watches the depraved scene in the mirror until his eye starts to roll back in his head, further than it should be able to. Tim watches the hazel iris recede until only white is left. Only then does he finally give some reprieve, yanking his hand back and shaking off the chunks that come with it.

Toby’s head bows towards the ground as he catches his breath, his entire body rocking as he heaves desperately for air. He’s too preoccupied to notice the way Tim is leering down at him, his breathing now hot and labored.

“…How did that feel?”

Toby sneers at the question, not looking up.

“H-How did it feel?! You’re d-digging around—shhhh!— in m-my fucking brain, d-dipshit, how do you— d-do you think it f-feels?!”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. I know it doesn’t hurt, so how does it feel?”

For some reason, Toby doesn’t have an answer to that. He wants to snap back with something witty and biting, to tell him it feels like Hell and back and if he doesn’t stop he’ll scatter his brains next, but…

That wouldn’t be the total truth.

“…It…I-It feels…” He stammers, unable to find the words. He sits back up on his knees, locking eyes with his partner in the mirror. Tim is silent. He’s anticipating the rest of that sentence. Toby thinks for a moment, a series of tongue clicks in an odd rhythm sounding as he pauses.

“…It…I-It wasn’t bad, if that’s w-what you’re looking for.”

Tim’s breath hitches.

Only Toby could hear a sound so small, yet so telling.

He has to push this further.

“A-Actually it was kind of…k-kind of good, y-you know? I-I don’t know—rrrngh!—how to explain it, but i-it just…it’s like n-nothing I’ve ever f-felt or imagined, I-I—“

Toby cuts himself off with a gasp as Tim grasps his hair tightly. His other hand moves to his belt. The sound of the metal buckle makes Toby shiver.

Tim leans down a bit, speaking lowly to his partner.

“Keep talking.”

Toby’s stomach flips.

Tim’s not giving him a choice.

“I-It’s like…fuck, it’s l-like every muscle in my— in my b-body is spasming like c-crazy,” Toby continues, watching with crazed eyes as Tim slides the belt from its loops. He grits his teeth as it clatters to the ground.

He doesn’t want this to stop.

He has to keep going.

“I-It’s like f-fire under my skin, b-but I can’t feel t-the burn…”

Tim’s hand moves to the fly of his jeans.

“…I-I lose all control of m-my body, I can’t—fuck off!—I-I can’t even think, i-it just all turns i-into gibberish…”

Tim tugs down his zipper, and Toby can see his twitching bulge straining against his boxers.

“…It’s l-like I can feel myself l-losing my mind, and I c-can’t do anything— d-do anything about it, I c-can’t even p-put—put it back! put it back!—put together a sentence…”

Tim hooks a thumb under the waistband of his boxers. He starts to push them down.

“…F-Fuck, Tim, I-I wanna feel it again.”

Toby clamps a hand over his mouth to stifle the moan that threatens to break free as he watches Tim’s erection spring free from the confines of his clothes. He’s thick and uncut, throbbing with rabid need. Toby shudders as his partner lets out a relieved groan, breathing hard under his mask.

“S-Shit, Tim…y-your—your cock! your cock!—n-no! I mean you’re—your cock! your cock! fat cock!—dammit! I-I didn’t mean to s-say that—!”

“I’m taking you up on your offer, Rogers…” Tim growls, cutting off Toby’s attempt to explain himself. He grabs Toby’s head with both hands, fingers digging into the front of his wound on one side and the gash in his cheek on the other. This time Toby doesn’t bother to stop the moan that crawls up his throat as he feels Tim’s cock rut against the back of his head.

“…I wanna give this new hole of yours a proper fucking. What do you say?”

Toby can’t see Tim’s mouth, but he can tell he’s smiling from the way his eyes crinkle at the corners behind his mask. Toby groans at the thought. He can’t stop the crooked grin that spreads across his pale face like butter on a hot pan.

“P…P-Please, Tim,” He whispers, and he knows he’s hit a nerve when he feels Tim‘s grip tighten for a moment.

“…Please what, Rogers?”

He figured he wouldn’t get it that easy.

“Please, Tim,” Toby continues, sucking in a breath and swallowing his pride, “I-I want you t-to fuck me, please—“

Tim ruts against the back of his head again, barely brushing his wound. He wants more.

“P-Please, fuck, I-I’m—need! give it!—I’m begging you! I need it, I-I need you to fuck m-my brains out, please!”

Tim shifts his hips. He’s lining up at the opening.

It’s working.

“Please, please, p-please, Tim, I-I want you to f-fuck my brain! I n-need to—fffuck! fuck! fuck!—I need t-to feel it! Please, dammit, j-just fucking—!”

Toby doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence.

Tim shoves himself inside the bloody cavity without warning, forcing Toby’s brain out of the way as his cock enters. The scream that rocks Toby’s body is as lustful as it is carnal and gruesome. He reaches up on instinct and grabs Tim’s wrists, not trying to pull his hands away but holding on for dear life before he loses the ability to move at all.

“You broke so easy,” Tim sneers as he bottoms out, talking over Toby’s uncontrollable moaning, “What would the others think if they saw you begging for dick like a whore on the street? Huh?!”

He punctuates his sentence with a sudden rut of his hips, making Toby yelp and his body jerk. His nails dig into Tim’s arms, and the pain is delicious.

Tim studies the scene before him in the mirror.

It’s disgusting. It’s horrid. He can see the tip of his leaking cock resting inside his partner’s skull.

He doesn’t want this to end.

He’s going to relish this opportunity, every sickening moment of it.

“What would they think…”

Tim starts to pull back, breath trembling at the slick noises from the movement.

“…If they knew I had you whining for me like a dirty fuckin’ sissy?!”

He pushes back in with even more force than before. Blood is forced out the front of the wound, dripping down Toby’s face and onto the floor, leaving a red trail on his skin. His meaningless babbling is music to Tim’s ears.

Again Tim pulls back, faster this time, and pushes in again. He watches Toby’s face in the mirror as he finds his rhythm, completely enamored as it contorts with overwhelming sensations that no human should ever experience. His mouth is hanging completely open, his tongue limp and lying against his chin as he pants and wails desperately like a dog in heat. He’s starting to drool from the lack of muscle control.

There’s something about watching Toby quite literally lose his mind at his hand that makes Tim feel like God.

“You know, I like you a lot better when you can’t run your mouth,” Tim says with a chuckle. He digs his fingers into the front of the wound, groping around in the cavity and feeling the pulsing meat shift under the pads of his fingertips.

“You’re lucky I’m not gonna tell anyone about this, not gonna tell the others you’re a nasty fuckin’ faggot who’s so desperate for dick you’d take it in your brain…at least someone’s finally making use of the lump of meat in your head, eh?!”

He pulls Toby’s skull back on his cock hard and fast, fucking into the hole with more fervor than he thought possible. His arms are bleeding now from where Toby’s nails are digging in, his knuckles locked up as his motor function is ripped to shreds.

Tim’s eyes trail down the reflection as he thrusts, down to Toby’s body and stopping at the tent in his pants. There’s a painfully obvious stain on his groin now where his erection is straining against the denim of his jeans with wretched need. His precum is leaking through the material in viscous waves, a constant stream of shameful arousal. It looks like it hurts, like his zipper is about to burst, but Tim has no interest in granting him even that small mercy of freeing his hard-on.

“Damn,” He mumbles to himself, watching the liquid pool where the tip of his partner’s cock pushes against his pants, “You really are enjoying this, aren’t you? You’re not just tolerating it to see how far I’ll go, you’re getting off on this shit! You’re a dirty fuckin’ boy slut!”

He’s getting mean, meaner than he really needs to be, but he doesn’t care. Toby might not even be able to hear him, and even if he can, Tim’s not going to waste this chance while his partner can’t snap back.

He ruts his hips more intentionally, trying to hit every spot he can. He’s catching on to patterns, that certain touches here or there make Toby twitch or jerk or yelp involuntarily. His eye has rolled back in his head almost completely. It looks agonizing, and it only makes Tim thrust faster.

“Then again, in that messed up little mind of yours I bet this is nothing. You’re so used to gettin’ beat on this practically soft to you, ain’t it?! Or did your old man slam your head into the concrete too many times for you to know the damn difference?!”

Tim’s practically screaming at him now, drool running down his chin and neck as he loses himself to the pleasure. It’s unbearably hot under his mask, but he can’t bring himself to release his death grip on Toby’s head to take it off.

“I should’ve put you in your place a long time ago, lord knows you’ve needed it for who knows how long!”

Tim angles his hips upward a bit, brushing against a certain spot that makes Toby tense and cry out suddenly. The thing Tim notices most, though, is the way Toby’s cock twitches in his pants. It spurts just a bit, not climaxing yet but getting dangerously close. The stain on the front of his pants is only growing with each passing second that Tim violates his brain.

“Oh, you really are disgusting,” Tim huffs, “You’re really about to cum in your pants, and I haven’t even touched your cock? That’s pathetic, Rogers.”

Tim angles his hips up again just to watch the precum gush from his partner’s tip, his stomach flipping in his gut at the thought that Toby is so, so damn close, but he can’t beg for more or touch himself or even move at all.

“Nngh…Like hell I’m gonna let a little bitch boy like you cum first, though.”

He takes a moment to adjust his grip. He’s preparing for the last stretch.

The speed of his thrusting increases tenfold, completely losing all sense of rhythm. He can feel the pleasure taking him over, melting his resolve and screaming at him to go, go, go, just keeping going, go until you can’t anymore, and that’s exactly what he intends to do.

“You better take all of my cum, Rogers,” Tim growls through gritted teeth, “Though I ain’t exactly giving you a choice, am I? You’ll take it whether you like it or not…”

He hasn’t looked away from Toby’s face in the mirror. The sight of it twitching and frozen in a state of screaming ecstasy is like a horrific work of art. Tim’s never going to forget it. He won’t forget any of this. Every second is burned into his brain, and he’s more than happy to keep it that way.

The gory cavity is carved into the shape of Tim’s cock by now, each thrust only feeding the growing puddle of blood and viscera on the ground below Toby. That stain will stay there forever, Tim thinks. A permanent reminder of the debauchery the two of them are so gleefully partaking in. The idea of someone else finding this old house scattered with bodies, walking around and not even knowing the half of what these walls have been subjected to…

God, that’s good.

The knot in Tim’s stomach starts to tighten.

He can’t hold on for much longer. Neither can Toby.

Tim angles his hips in that special way again, hitting that sensitive spot over and over and over again with each frenzied thrust. Toby’s practically soaking himself now, so close to the edge but not quite close enough to fall off, though he runs the risk with each passing second. It’s barely a matter of time.

Faster, faster, faster, that’s the only thing Tim can think.

More, more, more, that’s all he can think about.

Faster, faster, faster, more, more, more, more, more more more moremoremore—

“Shit!”

Suddenly Tim throws his head back with a wild noise, his cock releasing without warning into the bloody cavity he’s been so graciously desecrating. At the same time he brushes that spot again, and it’s finally enough to give Toby his release, too, only a second later. His cum soaks the front of his now completely ruined jeans, the shameful stain running down his groin and thighs. The scream he lets out as his climax rocks his body will haunt Tim’s dreams.

Tim’s thrusting doesn’t slow to a stop until it feels like his balls are empty. Only then does he finally go still, allowing himself to breathe. He looks up at the ceiling as he pants, letting his eyes flutter closed for a moment as his orgasm gradually washes away.

Finally Tim allows his fingers to unfurl, releasing Toby as he pulls his cock from his ruined skull. It comes back soaked in blood and sticky with viscera, taking a few chunks with it. He tries to step back, but Toby’s still gripping his wrists.

He manages to shake him off, only for Toby’s body to go completely limp and fall forward, face first onto the dusty wood floor and into the puddle of mixed bodily fluids. He twitches a bit, but doesn’t move or show any signs of life beyond that. Anyone else would think he’s dead.

“I’m not falling for that again,” Tim mumbles with an eye roll, using his discarded glove to wipe off his now flaccid cock before tucking it back into his boxers and zipping up his pants.

He crouches over Toby, grabbing his hair and forcing him up from the floor back onto his knees. All Toby can manage is a pathetic groan. Tim studies his partner’s fucked-out face in the mirror for a moment, watching as the blood and seed lazily roll down his cheek and chin. He can’t help but chuckle to himself.

“…Anything to say for yourself?” Tim asks teasingly, shaking him a bit.

The only response he gets is the sound of gagging as Toby retches. Tim barely moves back in time to watch him cough up a horrible concoction of blood, cum, and God knows what else without being in the splash zone.

“Goddammit, watch it!” Tim scolds cruelly, “If you hurl on my new boots I’m leaving you like this.”

He at least has the decency to let Toby finish before scooping up his limp, helpless body. He carries him under his arm like a log, not taking any care to be gentle.

“I’ll get you back home to Eyeless,” Tim mutters, “He doesn’t ask too many questions, and he’ll patch you up good ‘til you’re all healed…”

Tim tries not to think too hard as he carries his partner out of the house, away from the crime scene and into the endless wooded darkness.

All is quiet for a moment, save for the sound of Tim’s heavy steps on the dry leaves. That is, until what Tim thinks is a muffled giggle sounds from his partner. He stops and looks back, but there’s no more noise.

Dammit, he thinks.

Neither of us are going to be forgetting this.

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cxrdycxps · 4 months ago

Text

God’s Favorite/Devil’s Choice • Ellie Williams

☢️ religious trauma • child abuse (emotional and physical • mental illness • physical illness • emotional trauma • death ☢️

Main Masterlist • Ellie Williams Masterlist

“Momma?” You asked quietly, watching out the window at the back yard. The winter had hit Jackson hard which left the entirety of the town covered in snow and frost. It looked like someone had forgotten to draw in the details of real life.

“Yes, Baby?” Your mother hummed from her spot in the living room, feet up on the coffee table and book in her hand.

You looked down at the water your hands were in and the dishes you had just washed from dinner. You weren’t sure if you should ask but the question was eating you up inside. “Was all that really true?”

“All what, Baby?” Your mother asked. You released the water from the sink and clambered down from the chair you stood on carefully. You returned the chair to the dining table and moved slowly towards the living room, half hiding in the doorway.

“Am I really going to hell?” You asked her softly and she chuckled, patting the space beside her on the sofa. You joined her, climbing up on the cushion beside her.

“I wish you weren’t.” She sighed, pulling you onto her lap and holding you close. She rocked you slightly as you sniffled. “I’ve been trying to save your soul since birth but some people, well they’re just damned.”

You cried into her chest and she rocked you quietly, shushing you. Her hand ran up and down your back slowly and you had almost drifted to sleep when she tapped your leg. “You can’t sleep yet.”

You blinked at her sleepily before nodding, climbing down off her lap and stumbling towards the little cupboard under the stairs. You were five now. You had to say your prayers for an hour every night before bed.

The door to the closet closed behind you and plunged you into darkness. You didn’t like this part. You were afraid of the dark but your mother told you that you had to pray in here. You had to try and save your soul from hell.

///

“Well this just fucking sucks, doesn’t it?” You winced when Ellie dropped herself at your table, her arms crossed. She looked around and then looked back to you. “Why do you sit on your own? Are you the town freak, am I committing social suicide on my first day of school?”

You didn’t want to tell her. In fact you would die for just one friend that your mother hadn’t run away with her Bible rhetoric but you knew this wouldn’t last long. She was rough, always swearing and she seemed to be more world weary than you. Your mother didn’t like you to know a lot about what went outside the walls of Jackson because it opened your mind to sin.

“You kind of are.” You told her quietly. She looked around again at the other tables before shrugging and picking up her sandwich. “Dina is pretty cool. You could sit with her.”

“I’ve never been cool. I was a loser back in my old school and I met my best friend that way. Don’t want to break my lucky streak now.” She spoke with food in her mouth and grinned at you. You winced but couldn’t help the little laugh you gave her. It would be nice to have a friend for a little while again.

“Have you ever heard of Savage Starlight?” Ellie asked and you shook your head. This launched her into a massive spiel on what had to be the greatest comic book ever made and she informed you about all the characters and story lines she had gotten to read.

“‘Course I don’t know how it ends which is fucking annoying but I suppose that’s my little taste to understand how surviving the outbreak was hard. What about you?” Ellie asked and you blinked at her before shrugging. “Got any hobbies?”

“Not really. I got a lot of chores to do after school. I don’t really get time.” You explained and Ellie scrunched her face up. “It’s just me and Momma. I gotta help her out cause she’s not able to get around that easy.”

“Oh. Was she hurt?” Ellie asked softly and you smiled at her thoughtfulness but shook your head. “What then?”

“She’s getting old, she says. So I have to help. That’s my job as a daughter, you know?” You explained and she seemed to be pondering the thought before shrugging.

“I mean I’m an orphan, so not really. Joel doesn’t make me do chores because he’s boring and likes doing them. Says it reminds him of before.” Ellie explained and you nodded. It made sense.

“Were you always an orphan?” You asked and she nodded, sipping at her water. “My pa died before I was born too.”

“Nice. I don’t actually know if my dad died but I’ve been in an orphanage since basically my birth. Joel is kind of like my dad except not, you know?” Ellie asked and you shook your head. You hadn’t really ever had a dad around so you couldn’t really relate.

“Not really but I’m glad you have someone.” You told her and she smiled brightly at you.

“I think now I have two someone’s.” You shared her smile a little reluctantly. Ellie was nice, you knew that made it hurt more when they didn’t want to be friends anymore.

///

“That girl, with the swearing? Is she in your class?” Your mother asked. You were stood at the sink, staring out at the back yard. Summer had come and the flowers you had planted in the spring were all in bloom. You were rather proud of them.

“Ellie?” You asked for clarification but you knew it could only be her. She had been at the Tipsy Bison with Joel for dinner and she had been swearing up a storm. “The new girl?”

“Yes, the new girl. Don’t be daft on purpose, it doesn’t suit you.” You ducked your head focusing on the warm water your hands were in. “Is she in your class?”

“There’s only one class, Momma.” You sighed and heard the sofa creak as your mother stood from her seat. You counted the foot steps it took for her to get to you.

“That sort of cheek is the reason you’ll never get past the gates of heaven.” Your mother snapped and you winced in preparation when she took a handful of your hair and pulled you towards the cupboard under the stairs. “I don’t know why I even try with you anymore. Get in there.”

The closet had gotten cramped with age but still you were supposed to fit in and pray for at least an hour when your mother got like this. She didn’t pray with you but she did expect you to pray out loud without any pauses or noises of shuffling around.

Your eyes would adjust in a few minutes and you would have to find a cramped position in which you could be comfortable because any sign of stiffness or soreness would be seen as a regret for having prayed and earn you another hour.

“I can’t hear you.” Your voice raised in level and you counted the prayers out on your fingers hoping you didn’t miss one. She wouldn’t tell you until after and you’d have to start all over again. Tears of frustration pricked at your water line and you did your best to keep your voice steady.

You hadn’t been cheeky. You were just answering her question. She was so convinced of your damned soul that she took any chance to try absolve your sins immediately after you had committed them. You weren’t sure why you weren’t able to go a day without sinning but you knew deep down your mother was right. You were awful and you would go to hell because you had been lying to her.

You and Ellie had been friends for weeks now and she had understood when you told her that your mother didn’t like you having friends. She never approached you outside of school when you were with your mother and it had turned into one of the longest friendships you’d ever had without her to get in the way.

So you prayed a little harder for your lies and begged god not to remove the first good thing that had happened to you in years.

///

“Joel is teaching me to play guitar.” Ellie told you quietly. You were supposed to be filling out your math worksheets together but both you and Ellie were very good at math and had finished them in the first five minutes. “He wanted to be a singer when he was younger.”

“Is he any good?” You asked, laughing at the idea of big Joel Miller singing the gospel music your mother played for you when she was in a good mood.

“I think so. He’s good at country at least. I don’t know about all those old pop songs that he sings while he’s washing dishes. He just looks and sounds stupid then.” Ellie told you with a grin and you laughed again.

“He seems really fun. Me and Momma don’t have fun like that.” You told her, hand reaching up to sooth your scalp that had been burning. Four times this week she’d dragged you by your hair to pray.

“I wish you could come over to our house. Joel could make dinner and you could see the garage. I basically live on my own.” Her chest puffed out and you were in awe. You’d like to live on your own you think.

“I wish I could too. I could see all your comics and posters.” You sighed wistfully and she bumped her shoulder against yours.

“I’ll just bring them all in one by one for you to see.” She promised and you smiled brightly at her, swallowing against the almost sick feeling you got in your stomach when Ellie was nice to you.

“I know you’re gonna say this is sappy but you’re my best friend, you know that?” You asked her and she laughed.

“I’m your only friend, Angel.” That nickname seemed like it was gonna stick. Ellie had chosen it when she asked why you always paused before eating your lunch. When you had explained that you were praying she had tagged you with the nickname despite your protests that you were far from an angel.

“You’re still the best.” You promised her and she laughed, resting her head on your shoulder for a minute before straightening up again. Ellie didn’t like saying sappy stuff so she chose to touch you in some way instead, it was how she showed she liked someone. “Yeah, I know. You love me too.”

She laughed and pushed you away but you noticed her cheeks turning pink and you knew you had hit the nail on the head. You were her best friend too. You’d never had that before.

///

“Momma?” You climbed the stairs slowly, surprised to not find your mother in the living room when you got home from school. There was no reply to your call and you found the bathroom door wide open along with your mothers bedroom door.

But yours was shut tightly.

You weren’t sure why your heart was pounding as you stepped closer to the door, your hand reaching for the door knob. You took a deep breath and turned it, pushing the door open.

Your room was destroyed, everything pulled out of place, all of your books open and tattered on the ground. Your dresser drawers were overturned on the ground with your clothes spilled everywhere. “Momma?”

She was sitting on the edge of your bed, just waiting and watching your reaction. You looked around again and then back to her for explanation. “Are you okay?”

Your stomach was sinking and your lungs were constricting. She knew something she shouldn’t know and you only had one secret when it came to your mother. There was only one you couldn’t share. Ellie Williams.

“You’ve been very careful.” Your mother noted casually. Like she wasn’t in the middle of your upturned room, like she hadn’t made this mess. “Not even a trace of her.”

Of course there wasn’t. She had wanted you to bring home some of her comics but you had denied her. All the little notes she had written you were tucked away in your workbook in class. You knew better than to think you had that level of privacy at home. “Trace of who, Momma?”

“Ellie Williams.” Her tone was cold and you stayed in the doorway, not daring to get any closer to her when she was like this. It was a long way down the stairs to the cupboard if she got your hair now.

“I don’t know what you mean, Momma.” Your voice shook and she laughed at you. You didn’t know how your mother made such an expression of joy manage to be the exact opposite, cold and unfeeling.

“If I didn’t know better then I’d believe you.” She said and you swallowed, looking around again like you had been careless enough to forget something. “But when Joel Miller approached me to ask could you have a sleepover, promised it wouldn’t interrupt your chores. I had to pretend to know that you’d been talking to his girl.”

You felt faint. Your hand reached out for the door frame to steady yourself when your knees buckled. You had been so careful but not careful enough.

Your mother lifted her hands and settled a long black belt over her lap, smoothing the leather of it with her index fingers. It was your belt and you suddenly had to fight the urge to vomit.

“I always knew your soul was damned.” She sighed like the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. “But I never could’ve guessed to what extent. You’ve broken two commandments.”

“Momma, I didn’t.” You spoke quickly, fear pulsing adrenaline around your body. “I didn’t lie to you. I promise. I never told you that we talked because we sit beside each other in class. We aren’t friends, Momma. She just doesn’t understand that I have other priorities, Momma.”

The words burned you to speak them. It felt a greater sin to forsake Ellie’s friendship than to lie to your mother and when the tears pricked your eyes you knew it to be true. “I’m sorry, Momma.”

“You’ve just lied to me again, haven’t you?” She asked and you nodded slowly. There wasn’t a god on this world or the next that would have you deny Ellie.

“She’s nice to me, Momma. She doesn’t treat me mean the way everyone else does.” You explained through your tears. “I just wanted one friend. Just one.”

“You have one friend. The only friend you need. Jesus Christ who died for your sins.” Your mother stood and walked towards you.

“It’s not a sin to love Ellie, Momma. She’s my best friend.” Your mother froze in place, her eyes narrowed at you. You realized your mistake a second too late. “Not like that, Momma. We’re just friends.”

“Praying ain’t enough for you, child.” She handed over the belt and you stared at it in confusion. You had expected her to hit you with it. Maybe you were too harsh on your mother. “Go on, ten lashes.”

“You want me to-”

“Over your back. You’ll have to take your top of but self flagellation will work better than prayer. Don’t go easy either, if it don’t hurt it ain’t working.” She urged and you stared at her, bile crawling up your throat. “Come on now.”

“Momma, I didn’t do anything wrong.” You sobbed but she didn’t move, watching you with those cold eyes. “Momma.”

“Ten. I’ll count.”

///

“Dude, where the hell were you?” Ellie exclaimed when you took your seat next to her almost four days later. She wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you fought the hiss of pain, leaning into the comfort of her embrace.

You had suffered for this sin, you might as well commit it now.

“Got sick.” You explained and she let you go, looking you over. You knew how you looked. Your eyes were puffy and you were walking with a stiffness that came from being on your knees praying for almost three days straight.

“Damn, you look like hell.” She whispered and you couldn’t help the laugh. Hell was only the half of it. You had been through it all and back again in the last four days and you had made a decision.

You were choosing Ellie. No matter the pain or the punishment, you weren’t going to lose Ellie. You’d rather face an eternity of Hell in the afterlife than choose a moment without her in this one.

“I missed you.” You told her quietly and let your head rest on her shoulder. It pulled at your back but the comfort outweighed the pain you were feeling and so you didn’t move. “I missed you a lot.”

“I missed you too.” Ellie promised quietly, her head resting against yours. “And don’t be mad but Joel totally put his foot in it the other day. He asked you mom why you couldn’t sleep over. He didn’t know it was a secret.”

“Oh.” You tried to keep your voice steady. “She never said anything. Probably thought he had the wrong person.”

“Thats a relief. I didn’t want you to get in trouble over me.” Ellie sighed and the pair of you sat up when class began. Ellie kept her leg firmly against yours though and you were grateful for the comfort it offered.

When lunch came about Mrs Collins called your name and held you back while everyone else went to get food. You made you way up to her desk and she gave you a gentle smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” You promised her. Your mother had told everyone that you had been sick. You weren’t sure why it wasn’t a sin when she lied.

“Your mother told me you got a pretty nasty case of food poisoning?” Mrs Collins asked and you nodded, wondering was this another sin to pray for. “She also made a strange request.”

Your heart dropped and you looked back over your shoulder to where Ellie was waiting for you in the doorway, her back to you both. “Please don’t.”

“You want to tell me why she wouldn’t want you sitting by Ellie?” Mrs Collins asked and you shook your head, tears in your eyes. “If Ellie is hurting you or being mean to you then you can tell me.”

“No. She’s my best friend. Please don’t. I’m not allowed see her outside of school.” You explained in a rush, knowing you shouldn’t be sharing this much.

“Okay. It’s okay.” Mrs Collins insisted and you wiped at your face to dry the tears you didn’t mean to shed. “You and Ellie can stay beside each other. I’ll tell your mother I separated you both.”

///

��Only two weeks left.” You and Ellie were sixteen now, sitting with your backs against the school house. Well, Ellie was sitting back, you were a little more mindful of how the rough stone might hurt.

“What are we going to do then?” Ellie still didn’t understand the extent of your reasoning for why your mother couldn’t see you both being friends. She thought that you were old enough now to just make your own decisions.

“Well we could work together right? Your mom can’t stop that. You have to work in Jackson.” That much was true but you knew Ellie wanted to patrol just like Joel did. She had the urge to always be trying to save the world and you knew your mother wouldn’t allow it.

“You want to patrol. I’ll probably end up a waitress or in the greenhouses.” You sighed and ran a hand over your face. Ellie laughed a little and reached for your hand, tangling your fingers together and you paused, staring at them.

Ellie was turning steadily red but she didn’t let go, she tightened her grip and tugged so you’d turn to look at her. “I do want to patrol. But I want to spend time with you more. I can clean dishes or something if needs be.”

You stared at Ellie, your head tilted slightly as you studied her. She didn’t hide from you but she was blushing fully this time. You stared a second longer.

Oh.

“Ellie.” You sighed before laughing. She attempted to free her hand but you held on tighter. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“How?” She exclaimed and it seemed like she had been holding this in for a long time with how it burst out of her. “I know you’re like super religious and most religious people hate gay people and we’re best friends and I don’t want to lose you.”

“Ellie.” You laughed again before reaching out and clasping her face in your hands. You didn’t give her a second, pulling her in and kissing her firmly. “I would walk into hell gladly knowing that I’ve held heaven in my hands.*”

“Oh you’re so fucking gay.” Ellie laughed and kissed you again, her fingers tangling in your hair. Those words should’ve terrified you but you had come to terms with it years ago while you willingly took lashings for punishment. You knew you’d take any form of torture to get to this point.

“I can’t tell anyone. Not yet. My momma will find out but Ellie, I’ve got a plan.” You promised and she smiled, her hand moving from your hair to cup your cheek.

“I haven’t told Joel yet. It’s okay.” She promised, her forehead pressing to yours.

///

You’d had a plan. It had been a good plan. Your best plan yet. Your plan did not factor Ellie and her teeth into account. The small mark she had made, definitely an accident, had given you away. Your mother had always been more than suspicious of Ellie and it seemed that even though a small bruise could be from any number of things it only made sense that it was her when paired with swollen lips and a light in your eyes.

“No.” She held the belt out to you and for the first time you refused it, shaking your head and crossing your arms. Fire burned in your mothers eyes and her jaw clenched.

“You have sins you need to repent for. You’ll burn in hell.” She cautioned and you felt the tears finally fall from your eyes, your bravery slipping away.

“Momma I love her. I’ve been in love with her since before I knew what it was.” You sobbed and she looked even angrier if possible. “How can this be wrong?”

“No child of mine will embarrass me like this before God himself.” Your mother insisted and you lifted your hands in desperation. “I won’t stand for it.”

“What more can you do?” You asked her quietly, desperately. Your love for Ellie wasn’t a flaw and it couldn’t be a sin. You didn’t want to be fixed or cured or healed. Something that felt this pure couldn’t be anything other than a blessing.

“I told you. I won’t have it.” Your mother insisted and you stared at her, unable to understand her threat. “The Lord says suicide is a sin but surely he’d understand I just couldn’t be tainted by your sin.”

“Momma, don’t do that.” You couldn’t help your tears. “It’s not bad. It’s not!”

“It is and you know it. You wouldn’t have hidden it if you weren’t ashamed of your sin.” She told you and you choked back on your sobs. “You knew that you’d never be without sin but to go and do this. I knew since you were born that you were filled with sin but I didn’t think it was cause you were one of them!”

“Momma! You know I can’t change it. I can’t. I love her.” You were choking on the tears and she only shook her head. “You can’t do that, Momma. You can’t.”

“You want me to stay alive then you stop seeing her.”

///

“Hey Angel, you okay?” Ellie asked and you blinked at her before shaking your head.

“I can’t do this. I thought I could but I can’t.” Your back was raw from the amount of repenting you had required the evening before.

“Can’t do what?” Ellie asked, unsure.

“This. Us. I thought I could reconcile it but it’s not something I can allow myself to do.” You told her, tears already flowing down your cheeks.

“What? Allow yourself to what?” Ellie asked. “Be fucking happy?”

“I won’t be happy if I move out of my Momma’s. I’ll never forgive myself for leaving her there.” You told Ellie honestly. “I’m sorry I didn’t realise this before.”

“You can’t be serious.” Ellie stared at you, her face guarded like you were going to laugh and tell her it was a sick joke. “You are serious.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You wanted her to understand but she was too heroic. She would try help if she thought this wasn’t your decision.

“Yeah. So am I for not taking your fucking word for it the first day I met you. I should’ve sat with someone else.”

///

“Saw your girl started patrol today.” You looked up from the soapy water in the sink to where your mother was standing by the back door. You blinked at her, coming out of the daze you had been in. “That ain’t no job for a woman.”

She had been horrible the last few weeks. Telling you all about Ellie’s coming and goings when you refused to leave the house for anything other than work. Washing dishes down at the Bison. Everyone had to do their part, you hated doing yours.

It wasn’t a bad job per se. You could zone out and let muscle memory take over as you scrubbed the plates clean. No one talked to you much on account of your mother and it got you out of the house for a few hours every evening.

The problem was Ellie came to the diner every night with Dina and Jesse. She didn’t linger and you doubted that she even knew you were in the back. But you always found a second to pause when you heard her voice, as familiar to you as your own heartbeat.

“You never had anything to say when any other women go on patrol. Maria’s been doing it since the walls went up.” Your head jerked back with her grip on your hair and her hand pressed to the spot between your shoulder blades causing you to hiss.

“I didn’t ask for your sass.” She warned and you blinked back tears from the pain. “I think you oughta get to praying.”

“I got work, Momma.” You told her and she gripped your hair tighter. Her hand dug into your back, nails pressing deep.

“Better go get the belt then if you’re in such a hurry.” Your mother spat and released your hair. “Every time you talk like that I get reminded that you’re a child of the devil.”

You had a hard time believing that having the devil for a mother would be any different than the Momma you had.

///

It was years before you saw the signs. You had turned twenty one under your mothers watchful glare. She threatened harm on herself if you so much as came home late from work. You wondered why you cared so much that she remained unharmed when you hadn’t been able to lie on your back for years.

It all became clear one night when you followed the noise of her downstairs. She was standing in the kitchen, looking around in confusion. “Baby, what’re you doing up so late?”

She hadn’t called you Baby in years. Not since before you had met Ellie. She claimed that no baby of hers could be full of sin. “Just checking you’re okay, Momma.”

“I’m fine. Just a little lost.” She told you, an airy laugh on her lips. “I can’t find the bathroom.”

She was standing in a puddle.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Dealing with her was both harder and easier after your discovery. Maria let you stay home and care for her when you went to her and explained what was happening. There wasn’t exactly a nursing home you could send her to.

She began to pass through phases, a different version of your mother every time you talked to her. Sometimes you had your Momma back, a sweet woman who told you how pretty you’d grown to be. Sometimes you had your mother, the one who remembered Ellie.

Then one morning, the month you were turning twenty two, you had no mother. She had fallen asleep in her rocking chair and that was where you found her.

You sat with her for a long time. Just staring at her and wondered when it had gotten to the point that you stopped caring about her. Her death didn’t seem to have done anything besides giving you a sense of freedom you had only ever felt once before with Ellie’s lips on yours and her hands in your hair.

You found it within yourself to change her and wash her. She wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to do it. You laid her out in her own bed and then made your way down to the clinic to get a doctor to finally free you from her.

///

You had elected not to have a funeral service for your mother. You hadn’t even attended her burial yourself. No one had liked your mother, not even you. Maria had tried to sympathize with you but you hadn’t let her. She was the only one who tried.

You found yourself moving out of her house and into a small one bedroom cottage Maria had offered up. You returned to the Bison to wash dishes. You lived a boring life without prayers or belts or a constant ache on your scalp from having your hair pulled out by the root.

You could read books and leave the dishes overnight and play music that didn’t mention Jesus. Your back healed up but would forever be scarred but you knew without a doubt that your pain was at an end.

It had ended alongside her heartbeat and you knew for sure it was a bad thing to think but you no longer punished yourself for bad thoughts.

You no longer punished yourself.

///

A knock on the door gave you a pause and you looked up from your book to the living room window but you couldn’t see your front porch from the angle you were sat at. Just the pouring rain that had washed into Jackson a couple of days ago.

You pushed yourself up and answered the door, expecting Maria who came to check up on you monthly to make sure you hadn’t succumbed to madness while being so isolated.

It wasn’t Maria. It was Ellie.

She was soaked, rain water running down her hair and face into her clothes. You couldn’t say anything and chose instead to just stare at her as she left a puddle on your porch.

“Your mom died?” She asked and you marveled in how you had gone from speaking to her every day for almost four years to have gone longer without her words aimed at you.

“She did.” You answered slowly after a few minutes of just the rain for background noise. You continued to stare at her.

“I’m sorry.” You blinked, falling out of your trance at the condolences she offered. You folded your arms across your chest.

“What do you want Ellie?” You didn’t mean to sound harsh but you didn’t want her apologies. You wanted her to leave so you could get on with your quiet life.

“I want to know if she was the reason.” Ellie stopped pretending the second you did, grim determination on her face.

“We were kids, Ellie.” You sighed and she wiped the water off her face and clenched her jaw. “You can’t be still thinking about it.”

“Still thinking about it?” She exclaimed. “I ain’t stopped thinking about you. I’ve spent the last six years wondering if your mom wasn’t around would we be together.”

“Ellie.” You sighed heavily, stepping back from the doorway. She looked panicked for a second and you opened the door wider. “Come in before you catch your death.”

///

You got Ellie clothes to change into and a towel to dry herself off. When she returned to your living room she was wrapped in your clothes, toweling her hair dry. You had lit the small fire in your living room and now you were standing by the window, watching the rain.

“I didn’t know she had died.” Ellie spoke quietly and you looked up at her, releasing a sigh. You took a seat on your sofa, inviting Ellie to sit next to you. “Maria mentioned it in passing while we were at dinner. I came straight over here.”

“She had dementia or Alzheimer’s. One of those. It was bound to happen.” You explained to her and she nodded slowly.

“I know you really loved her.” Ellie sighed and you turned your head to look at her.

“I didn’t. Not really. I had a really tough life with her.” You explained to Ellie and she nodded like she had always known that. She didn’t get to nod like that. She didn’t know the half of it. “I think she had her sickness my whole life. She was batshit insane.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Ellie asked and you shrugged. You weren’t sure why you hadn’t been able to tell anyone. Mostly, you reasoned, you hadn’t known she was sick. How could you tell Ellie that you thought you were the problem? That you were so full of sin even your own mother couldn’t love you?

“It was my problem to deal with.” You told her honestly. “What are you really doing here?”

“To see if your okey. To see if there’s a chance we got it wrong at sixteen.” Ellie turned to face you, drawing her knees up to her chest. You couldn’t look at her.

“We?” You asked, picking at your nail beds and ignoring how close she was, how your body lit up in response.

“Yeah. We. You for calling it all off and me for letting you walk away.” You turned to look at her, incredulous. “I shouldn’t have given up.”

“That’s exactly what you should’ve done. Anything else would’ve made it so much worse.” You told her, pinching the bridge of your nose to ward off the headache you could feel coming.

“I could’ve helped!” Ellie insisted. “I could’ve given you the support you needed.”

“You couldn’t have made me straight!” You yelled, standing up from the sofa. You paced back to the window, staring out at the rain. “I needed to not be like this. You couldn’t have fixed that. She hated me.”

“She was your mother.” Ellie argued and you scoffed, fighting the urge to turn and look at her. “She had to have loved you.”

“She told me she’d kill herself if I went back to you.” You turned then, wanting to see the look in her eyes. The look of disgust because you gave in, you let her control you. But Ellie didn’t look disgusted, she looked horrified. “I came home one evening with swollen lips and this tiny mark on my jaw and she knew what we’d been doing. She told me that if I kept talking about loving you that she’d kill herself to not be stained by my sin.”

“She was sick. She didn’t know what she was-” your hand went to the hem of your T-shirt, pulling it up so that she could see your back. The criss cross of scars that overlapped. Years of torture and abuse. All of it culminating in this. “Angel.”

Ellie breathed that old nickname and you dropped your shirt but she caught it, having moved closer without your knowing. Her fingers ghosted over your skin and her breath came out shaky.

“When did this start?” Ellie asked and you laughed bitterly. “This isn’t a fucking joke. When did it start?”

“The day Joel asked for a sleepover. I told you she couldn’t know. I guess you just didn’t understand why.” She let your shirt drop and you turned around to find yourself face to face with her. “She told me that I was damned at five years of age. She used to make me pray in the dark for hours at a time. When I was twelve she made me hurt myself to repent for the sin of loving you. I never could. I repented for not being sorry instead.”

“I could’ve helped. I could’ve gotten you out.” Ellie sighed, her hand coming up to your cheek. You leaned into her and closed your eyes against the emotions that were welling up. “I could’ve fucking killed her for you.”

“I would’ve taken you up on that. Isn’t the awful?” You asked her but she shook her head, wrapping her arms around you. “I was so relieved when she died.”

“Guess I don’t have to feel bad for feeling the same way. I always knew it was her. Cause this, what’s going on with us, we might’ve been kids but I know what I felt, Angel. This was the real deal.” Ellie whispered against your neck and then you let it happen. You let the tears fall. You held her tightly and you sobbed for everything you could’ve had for the last six years.

///

You were sitting on the sofa, curled up against Ellie’s chest. Her hands softly stroked your hair and you were struck silent by the parallel of your mother doing the exact opposite, hurting you so violently.

“So you gonna cut me loose or keep me this time?” Ellie asked quietly. You looked up at her and without speaking cupped her cheek in your hand and pulled her down to your level. You pressed a sweet kiss to her lips and she smiled. “Not afraid of Hell any more?”

“If loving you leads me to hell then I’ll sit at the table with all the others who gave up the idea of an eternity of heaven for a short time with the true meaning of paradise.”

*Lyra Wren on tiktok

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