#just a handful of teacher chapters and yet they remain to be some of my absolute favorites

[alltheirdamn]

Killing Me Softly | (Joel x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 7 The Past

Summary: Memories of the past suspended in time. Rating: 18+ Word Count: 6k Warnings: *THIS CONTAINS SERIES SPOILERS* Pre-Outbreak AU, mentions of past trauma, mentions of loss and grief, mild violence, language, mentions of alcohol, yearning, angst A/N: Dare I say, this is my favorite chapter yet. If you haven't connected the pieces by now, then this will answer every question you've had. There were so many signs along the way, and I encourage you to go back and find each and every one. I know this doesn't soothe the heartbreak of the cliffhanger but please know this chapter is IMPORTANT. And we can all agree that Joel is the STANDARD. * I want to thank @loonmartell for helping me navigate this idea and creating a beautiful story that is slowly coming to fruition. You are truly a mastermind, and I give you all my thanks and love*

Masterlist | Ko-fi

~Three and a half years ago~

Joel paced the waiting room, consumed with guilt and anger. He shouldn’t have let you leave that night. Bennett had called you asking to meet for dinner under the guise of wanting to give back the things he still had been holding onto. Joel should have gone with you, should have told you to stay, should have broken Bennett’s jaw. Joel couldn’t have forced you to stay; he knew you needed closure. After the downfall of your relationship with Bennett, you deserved answers.

Whatever happened between leaving his house and the accident would remain a mystery, and Joel was ready to track Bennett down to find out the truth, but right now, all that mattered was you. 

Your mom rounded the corner, followed by the doctor, both of their faces grim. Joel’s knees threatened to buckle under him, the worst possible scenarios running through his head. 

“How is she? Is she alright?” He asked, the words jumbled together and confused.

The doctor raised a hand to slow Joel’s frenzy, and your mom’s eyes stared at the floor.

“She’s awake,” the doctor started. “But there were some… complications. We just finished taking her for some tests, and we’ve determined she’s sustained a form of retrograde amnesia.”

“She can’t remember the crash?” Joel questioned. He swiped his sweaty palms over the denim of his jeans, anxiety bubbling in his chest.

“After analyzing her CT scans and running some cognitive tests, it looks like she’s lost a large chunk of her memory,” the doctor explained.

“How large are we talkin’, doc? A few months?”

Your mom stepped forward, placing a hand on Joel’s shoulder. 

“She asked for Bennett when she woke up,” she whispered. 

“What the hell does that mean?” Joel snapped. 

“She has no recollection of the last two years,” the doctor said.

Joel staggered back, dragging a hand down his face. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t fucking happening.

“You’re tellin’ me she has no memory of me?” Joel shouted. 

“Joel, calm down,” your mom hushed, her eyes darting around the crowded waiting room. 

“Calm down?” He echoed. “Jesus, she doesn’t fuckin’ remember me! I need to see her. I need to—I need to tell her.”

The doctor stepped forward, a frown creasing his face.

“It’s imperative that we don’t disrupt her current condition. Any interference with her memory may cause more complications with the amnesia. If we force these forgotten memories on her, it’ll cause too much stress on her brain and ultimately lead to permanent damage. If we want her to regain her memory, we need to wait.”

“How long?” Joel pleaded. “How long do I need to wait?”

“We don’t know,” the doctor sighed. “With amnesia this serious, it could take weeks or even years. There’s no way to determine the timeline right now.”

Joel’s anger flared up, and he slammed his fist into the wall beside him. The pain radiating up his knuckles and hand was nothing in comparison to the pain splintering inside his chest. He was losing you, and you didn’t even realize it.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Miller,” the doctor said. “I know this isn’t easy, but it’s what’s best for her and her recovery right now.”

“But she doesn’t—.” Joel couldn’t get the words out. 

He crumpled to the ground with his head in his hands—two years' worth of memories together gone in a matter of seconds. You didn’t remember him. You didn’t know Joel loved you; you didn’t remember that you loved him. 

“Joel, sweetie,” your mom cautioned, crouching beside Joel. “You said she was with Bennett before the crash, right?”

Joel lifted his head and glared at your mom through teary eyes. He didn’t want to be reminded that Bennett had returned; he didn’t want to fathom the idea of him being in your life again.

“Don’t tell me you’re seriously thinkin’ about tellin’ him all this,” Joel said. “Y’know what he’s like with her. I can’t let her go and watch her be with him.”

“We need to contact him at least and tell him. If she thinks they’re still together…we must maintain that memory. We have to try. If it’s something Bennett wants and is willing to do, then we have to. I know you want to tell her everything, but her brain is so fragile right now. It’ll scare her, and I can’t risk losing my daughter entirely. Joel, I need you to understand what's best for her.”

“And y’all seriously think Bennett is what’s best for her?” Joel laughed bitterly.

“Of course we don’t, honey. The thought of Bennett comin’ back around kills me, but what if there’s a chance her memory will return sooner than we think? She won’t have to keep him in her life forever, but only until everything comes back to her.”

“And what if it doesn’t? Y’expect me to watch the woman of my dreams love another man? What if one day they get married? Or have kids? I’m supposed to pretend like none of this ever happened?” 

Christ, the thought of that made Joel sick. He didn’t want to see you continue the rest of your life with a man who didn’t treat you right. He couldn’t do this… He couldn’t stomach this plan. 

“Joel, listen to me,” your mom hissed, grabbing him by the collar. “We need to play the long game, okay? I’m not giving up hope on my daughter, and I know you won’t either. You love her, don’t you?”

Joel nodded helplessly, mouthing the word ‘yes.’

“Then wait for her. It won’t be easy for any of us, but we all need to want this. I’ll talk to my husband and the girls about this, and we’ll work through all the details. Lying isn’t easy, but it might be what ends up saving her memory.”

That night, Bennett showed up at the hospital. 

Joel wasn’t in his right mind when Bennett walked into the waiting room. The moment he saw his smug grin and floppy blonde hair, Joel lost it. 

“Motherfucker!” Joel yelled, sending his fist straight into Bennett’s jaw. 

Bennett reeled over, staggering back into a waiting room chair, while your dad pulled Joel away. A murmur of voices among the other bystanders dragged Joel from his vengeful haze, and he stared at Bennett unamused. He wanted to see him suffer the way he had been suffering. 

Bennett worked his jaw back and forth, glaring at Joel as he sat beside your mom. 

“This is the thanks I get for agreeing to meet with you guys?” Bennett huffed. 

“It’s your fault she’s in that fuckin’ bed,” Joel snapped. 

His body still thrummed with unbridled rage, his hands shaking at his sides. Stella, Beth, and your parents were all gathered around the waiting room, taking their respective spots in one of the chairs. Joel couldn’t sit. He didn’t want to be any part of this. 

“Joel,” your dad snapped. “Cool it.”

Joel folded his arms over his chest, staring daggers at Bennett as he made himself comfortable in his chair. Your mom leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. 

“Bennett, we need to know what happened before the accident,” she pleaded. “Joel said she was with you, so what happened?”

Bennett shrugged, stretching his legs out and crossing his arms. 

“I asked her to come back,” he said plainly, as if it were that simple. Joel seethed, his body twitching as he tried not to hit Bennett again. 

“Why?” Beth interjected. “You don’t even fucking like my sister. Why would you do that?”

“I do like your sister,” Bennett argued. “I told her I had made a mistake and that I wanted to try to make things work.”

Beth rolled her eyes, a scowl forming on her face. 

“You waited almost two years to make that discovery?” She cackled. “What actually happened?”

Bennett lifted a hand to his jaw, massaging the reddening skin as he quirked a brow at Joel. He was playing with fire; Joel just needed one more reason, and he’d kill Bennett on the spot.

“I told her to meet me for dinner to talk,” Bennett explained. “I still had a few of her stupid books she left behind, so I figured it was a good opportunity to meet with her. I tried to explain my side of things and why I wanted to give us another shot. She just laughed at me. She took her little books and left the restaurant without hearing any more of what I had to say.”

Joel felt a strange sense of pride knowing you had laughed in Bennett’s face, but given the circumstances, it quickly faded. A bitterness flooded his tongue at the thought of you returning to the life you had with Bennett, especially when he spoke of you with such disdain. 

“Why does any of that even matter?” Bennett questioned, looking between your parents.

Your mom cleared her throat and spoke up.

“The accident she was in caused some damage to her brain,” she began. “The doctors determined she has a form of amnesia. She doesn’t remember anything from the last two years.”

Bennett’s eyes grew wide, and he slid Joel a knowing look. 

“She thinks she’s still with me,” Bennett concluded. 

Your mom gave a solemn nod, running a hand through her hair. Joel could see the stress written all over her face, and he could see the pain in her eyes as she realized what was about to happen. 

“The doctors think it’s best not to overwhelm her with the memories she’s lost. We don’t want to do this, but it may be best if she resumes the life she thinks is still intact, which means introducing you back into her life. Is that something you’re open to, Bennett?”

Bennett didn’t say a word for several minutes. All he did was stare at his hands in silent contemplation. Beth and Stella sat unmoving, and Joel caught Stella sneaking glances ever so often. Finally, Bennett turned to Joel and studied him before speaking.

“And you’re in agreement with this?” He asked.

Joel gave a single nod, though he was reluctant to do so.

“I’m willin’ to wait for her. She needs time to regain those memories, and I don’t wanna cause any stress on her if she thinks she’s still with you. Trust me, I ain’t happy ‘bout it, but I love her.”

“And if she doesn’t get those memories back?” Bennett pressed.

“Then you better make her the happiest girl in the world and never fuck things up again,” Joel frowned. “I swear I’ll hunt you down if y’ever hurt her. I love her with my whole fuckin’ heart, and I’d do anythin’ to make sure she’s happy.”

“I love her, too, you know.”

Joel had a hard time believing Bennett, but there was a seriousness in Bennett’s eyes that made Joel’s heart ache. He was giving up the one good thing in his life to someone who didn’t deserve your love. Joel was a patient man, but that didn’t stop his heart from breaking. Who knew if you’d ever remember him again? He would have to live his life knowing you may never come back and that he’d have to carry that pain with him every single day. Hope was a fickle thing, one he would rather forego if he could just tell you the truth, but this was his only option. Joel would have to give you up. And he would do it because he loved you beyond all measure. 

Your parents took Bennett to meet with the doctors to discuss your current condition and the future it would entail. Joel stayed behind with Beth and Stella, the three of them blanketed by an insurmountable pain that couldn’t be healed. 

“What if we never see you again?” Stella asked, her eyes full of tears. 

Joel sat beside her, pulling her into his arms and letting her head rest on his shoulder. She was only fifteen, but Joel knew she was aware of the gravity of the situation. Even though she was older than Sarah, he always viewed Stella like another daughter; he had watched her grow up the last two years, and Joel adored her just as much as he did for his daughter. 

“Y’gotta stay strong for me, Stell,” Joel sighed, squeezing her shoulder. “She's gonna get those memories back one day, and I’ll be right there when she does. None of y’all will ever lose me. I swear that to you.”

Stella sniffled back tears, curling into Joel’s embrace. He glanced at Beth beside him, giving her a sad smile.

“I’m trustin’ you to look out for her, okay?” He said. “She needs you more than anyone. I know you ain’t happy ‘bout all of this, and I sure as hell ain’t either, but it’s gonna be okay.”

“I don’t agree with any of this,” she grumbled. “I hate him, Joel. I hate all of this.”

“I hate it, too, Beth,” Joel said. “But I love her more, and I’m willin’ to wait for her.”

Beth exhaled, slumping back into the chair. Joel could tell she wanted to say more, but she held her tongue. Joel knew Beth’s anger ran deep for Bennett, and he hoped she’d learn to give you grace through all this. It wasn’t your fault this decision was being made. It was what they all thought was best. 

Your mom returned an hour later to gather the girls and usher them home for the rest of the night. Joel’s head was throbbing from all of the stress, and he was on edge, knowing his time with you was running out. 

“Is she asleep?” Joel asked.

“The doctors gave her a heavy sedative to help her get through the night,” your mom explained. “In the morning, they’ll run a few more tests and figure out when it’ll be okay to discharge her.”

“Can I see her?” He pleaded. “Just so I can say goodbye?” 

The words tasted like ash on his tongue. Goodbye was a word he never wanted to associate with you. He wanted the good nights and good mornings but never a goodbye.

“Of course, sweetie,” your mom said, tears slipping down her face. 

Joel realized he wasn’t just saying goodbye to you but to your family as well. A family that had welcomed him in so quickly, a family he had spent holidays with and visited in the summer, he was losing an entire group of people he loved so dearly. 

Joel thought he was strong enough to see you, but as he opened the hospital door, he realized how wrong he was. Your face was littered with cuts and bruises, your right eye swollen shut, and your hair matted down with dried blood. It took every ounce of his energy not to collapse at the sight of you lying there, and he moved on unsteady legs to your bedside. 

He barely managed to say your name as the syllables broke out in a choked sob. He took your hand, his thumb smoothing lines over your balmy skin. Tears fell onto your fingers as he lifted your hand to his mouth, crying softly as he pressed a kiss against it.

“Oh, baby,” he cried. “I love you so fuckin’ much. I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so—.”

Joel wept over your body for what felt like an eternity. He let his head hit the bed, your hand pressed against his wet cheek, inhaling the lingering scent of your perfume. Every memory with you flooded his mind: mornings spent together drinking coffee, lazy afternoons laying on the couch while you read your favorite books, weekends at the soccer fields with Sarah. 

Joel’s life had flipped upside down in the span of just a few hours, and you’d never know the decision he had to make for the sake of your health. He wasn’t the praying type, but if there were a God up there, he’d spend every night on his knees begging for you to come home to him. 

“I love you, baby,” Joel whispered. “Even if you never remember it, I’ll carry you with me forever.”

Joel leaned up to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering a second too long. He never wanted to leave this room because everything would be gone once he did. All he’d have left were the memories and an undying hope you’d wake up one day remembering his face. 

Joel spent the next two days gathering your things from his house. He piled your books into a box, along with the miscellaneous items you had littered his home with. He clung to your shirts and held them to his chest, wishing it was you in his arms. Scattered on the fridge were Polaroid pictures you had taken of Joel throughout the two years, and he slipped them away for when he was ready to relive the memories—not yet, but one day. 

Sarah came home from school and saw the boxes next to the front door, giving Joel a weary look.

“What’s happening?” She asked.

Joel crouched in front of her, taking her head in his hands. He managed to say your name without faltering and explained everything to his daughter in the simplest way he could.

“She doesn’t remember me?” Sarah murmured, her eyes welling with tears. 

Joel hadn’t realized the heartbreak Sarah would be facing, too.

“No, sweetheart,” Joel shook his head. “But one day she will, I promise. You’ll be my tough girl and help Daddy through this, alright? We’re gonna wait for her ‘cause she’s gonna come back. I promise she’ll be back one day, and she’ll be right there on the sidelines again cheerin’ you on.”

“I’m gonna miss her,” Sarah cried, crashing into Joel’s chest and wrapping him into a hug.

“I’m gonna miss her too, sweetheart.”

~ Two years ago ~

Joel’s phone rang well past midnight. Through tired eyes, he searched for it on his nightstand and prayed it was you, but an unknown number lit up the screen, and Joel’s heart stopped.

“Hello?” He answered, his voice roughened from sleep.

“I can’t do it.”

It was Bennett’s voice, frantic and shaky. Joel shot up in bed, his heart pounding out of his chest.

“What do y’mean you ‘can’t do it’?” Joel questioned.

“I—I can’t do it, man. We’re supposed to get married tomorrow, and I can’t fucking do it. She’s making me crazy. You know she says your name in her sleep? She still can’t remember shit, yet all she does is say your name when she’s sleeping. I’m losing my mind.” He was rambling through words so quickly Joel could barely keep up.

“Y’can’t just leave her like this,” Joel said. “Do y’know how much you’re gonna hurt her? You waited ‘til now to decide you didn’t wanna go through with the weddin’? Y’know how fuckin’ stupid you are?”

Bennett exhaled loudly through the receiver, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“I’m never going to make her happy, and she won’t make me happy. I’m not doing this.”

Joel scrubbed a hand over his face and stared up at the ceiling fan, turning above the bed.

“Alright, listen,” Joel started. “You get your shit together, and you leave. Find some job in another state and never come back. She doesn’t deserve this, and she definitely doesn’t deserve the heartbreak you’re ‘bout to give her. So, you take your ass and get the fuck out of town. And I swear, if you ever come back or even try to contact her again, I will kill you. Do y’understand me? I will fuckin’ kill you.”

“You’re threatening a future lawyer?” Bennett laughed. 

“I don’t give a damn what you are, Bennett. I’ll take a gun to your head the next time I see you and not even think twice ‘bout pullin’ the trigger,” Joel threatened, speaking through clenched teeth.

“She’ll never forgive you for it,” Bennett countered. “And don’t even think about coming back into her life, either. She’s better off without either one of us. God help the next guy who tries to get with her. She’s a fucking wreck.”

Joel seethed, the room going red. How dare Bennett talk about you like this? Joel should have never left you. He should have fought harder. He should have killed Bennett before he could have ever had the chance to come back. 

“I suggest you pack your shit quick, or I’ll find you ‘fore the night is over,” Joel growled. “Get the fuck out of town, you fuckin’ piece of shit.”

Joel slammed his phone shut and slumped against the headboard. Bennett would be out of your life, but at what cost? He knew this would destroy you. God, he couldn’t even fathom the heartbreak you’d face in the morning when you arrived for the wedding. Joel didn’t even let himself imagine what you’d look like, dressed in a beautiful white wedding gown. Bennett didn’t deserve you; he never did. But Joel didn’t deserve you either. You were too good for either of them. 

~ Three months ago ~ 

“Dad, I need to tell you something,” Sarah announced, walking through the front door.

She had just finished her first day of school, and Joel had gotten off work early to be home in time to hear all about it. 

The last two years had been a blur of endless work days and long nights spent drinking in the dark. He was drowning himself away in bottles of whiskey, trying to forget you and the pain that still lingered. He had considered going to you so many times to spill the truth and beg you to come back into his life. But he knew better than that. He knew you deserved a normal life without the reminder of the past. 

Joel looked up from the stove where he was cooking dinner. Sarah's face was etched with concern, and her lips trembled as she tried to speak.

“Sweetheart, what is it?” Joel panicked. 

He dropped the spatula on the counter and rushed to Sarah’s side, holding her firm by the shoulders.

“My—my teacher,” she muttered. “It’s her.”

Joel felt the world tilt on its axle, his body swaying at Sarah’s words. 

“Tell me y’didn’t say anythin’ to her,” Joel begged. 

“No, I—I didn’t. I swear. I don’t even know what I would say,” Sarah rambled. 

“Okay, alright. It’s okay. It’s okay,” Joel exhaled. He needed to sit down. 

Pulling out one of the dining chairs, Joel collapsed entirely, burying his head in his hands. Sarah rubbed a hand over his back, gently attempting to soothe him.

“Maybe this is your chance, Dad,” Sarah suggested. “It’s been enough time now. Maybe she’ll be able to handle the truth about everything.”

Joel loved Sarah’s optimism and her bright outlook on everything. Whenever Joel was ready to give up hope, Sarah was right there to guide him back. She was right, it was an opportunity to start over again, but he didn’t want to fuck it up. He wouldn’t lose you twice. 

“I’ll think ‘bout it, okay?” Joel sighed. “Let me finish cookin’ dinner, and y’can tell me all ‘bout your day.”

Joel sat across from Sarah, his food untouched the entire time she talked. He had no appetite. All he wanted to do was ask her about you: what you looked like, what your voice sounded like, what books you would teach the class. He knew poetry was your favorite. You would stay up late reading together in bed. You would always chime in with little factoids or comments about the book, and Joel would always sit there listening to every word. Shakespeare was your favorite, and Joel loved watching your face scrunch with concentration as you tried to explain the meaning behind each play. When he packed up your things three and a half years ago, he secretly kept your copy of Romeo and Juliet. Sometimes, when he was drunk enough, Joel would flip through the pages just to trace over your scribbled words and annotations, just to relive a moment kept in secret between the two of you. 

Now, his daughter would experience your passion for teaching firsthand. He was a proud son of a bitch, knowing you were following your dreams. 

“Dad,” Sarah’s voice cut through Joel’s wandering thoughts.

He glanced up from his full plate and shook his head.

“Sorry, sweetheart. What did you say?”

“I was saying there’s a father-daughter dance in a couple of weeks,” she repeated. “Maybe she’ll be there. You could see her again.”

“Yeah, maybe. I gotta see if I can get ‘round work to be there.”

Joel was all too familiar with Sarah's look of disappointment; he had seen it far too often these last couple of years. His role as a father had been lacking for a while now; he was lost in the haze of losing you, so much so that he was losing himself. Unfortunately, Sarah had been the one suffering the most because of it. 

“I’ll make it work, sweetheart,” Joel decided. “I promise.”

After Sarah went to bed, Joel sat on the couch, nursing a short glass of whiskey. He stared at the liquid as he swirled it around, the amber color shimmering under the dim light of the lamp beside him. His phone lay open on his thigh, Beth’s number sitting there waiting to be dialed. Joel had barely spoken to your sister since he last saw her at the hospital, but he knew she would be his first call. 

Dialing her number, Joel took a long sip of his drink and waited.

“Joel?” Beth exhaled, her voice groggy from sleep.

“Hey, yeah.” Joel cleared his throat. “It’s me. I, um, I have some news.”

“Did she…” Beth’s voice trailed off.

“No, no. Not yet, at least. Um, Sarah’s first day of school was today, and I found out she’s her teacher. Funny how that happens, right?” 

“Wait, my sister? Actually?” Beth sounded shocked.

“Yup,” Joel sighed. “Sarah thinks I should try and talk to her, Whatdaya think?”

Beth remained silent, and Joel cleared the contents of his glass as he waited.

“I don’t know if telling her everything right away is smart,” she said. “I mean, I haven’t talked to her a lot in the past couple of years, so maybe I’m wrong.”

“Y’all haven’t talked?” Joel questioned.

“She and I haven’t spoken since the whole wedding ordeal,” she confessed. 

“Wait, why?”

Joel sat up, one hand clutching the phone, the other smoothing over the curls sticking up on the crown of his head. He never thought you and Beth would ever be on bad terms.

“I warned her about Bennett. I tried to talk her into leaving so many times, but she was so stubborn. I don’t know what he said or did to her to make her stay, but she was always at his defense. I hated seeing her with him, Joel. It should have always been you.”

“I know, Beth. I know.”

“Have you considered maybe completely starting over?” Beth asked.

“Like in what way? Datin’?”

“Yeah. Maybe introduce yourself and see where things go. She might not regain her memory, but you’d have new memories together. She deserves to be loved the right way, and you’re the one who can give her that. Take things slow and test the water. You never know.”

Joel considered the idea for a moment. It could work, but what if it didn’t? What if he completely fucked up his second chance with you? He would have to live the rest of his life knowing he lost you twice.

“You’re suggestin’ I lie to her?” Joel scoffed.

“No,” Beth argued, her voice stern. “I’m suggesting you work your charm like you did the first time and see where it goes. She loved you once before, Joel. I think she could love you again.”

Beth’s words were enough of a push for Joel actually to consider that this might work. He knew you. He knew what you liked and didn’t like; he knew every tiny piece of you so that it wouldn’t be hard to sweep you off your feet again. The only problem he had with the plan was lying. If you ever found out the truth, it would crush you. And that terrified him. He didn’t want to break your heart; Bennett had done a good enough job of it, and Joel would never be like him. He would be better. He would prove himself. 

“Do y’think your family would agree to this?” Joel asked.

“None of us ever gave up hope, Joel,” Beth sighed. “This could be a chance for all of us to get her back—to get the old version of her back. We miss her a lot.”

“I miss her, too.”

“Go get your girl, Joel. She’s waiting for you.”

Joel spent that night wide awake in bed. The idea he could have you back in his life again set his body alight with a mixture of anxiety and fear. Beth could be right; you could love him again. There was that hope that maybe he could rewrite the past and start anew, but there was also that terrible fear you could slip away from him…permanently. You never regained your memories, and there was a good chance you never would, but not taking this risk would condemn Joel to a life full of grief. He knew grief well; he had walked side by side with it for the last three and a half years. If he could just hold you for one moment and hear you say his name one more time, that would be enough.

When Joel awoke the following day, he had made up his mind; he would keep fighting for you. 

He called Maria before school began and explained it all to her. Joel knew Maria had taken the news of your accident the hardest; you and her had always been close. She was like a mother to you here in Austin. Learning how to navigate around your memory loss had been tricky for her, but Joel knew she had done right by you. 

It was no surprise when Maria squealed with excitement over the phone, meticulously creating a master plan to bring you both together again. She promised to talk you into chaperoning the father-daughter dance and vowed to continue pushing you his way. Joel had to remind Maria that he was the one in control here; he needed to be the one to make everything work. Knowing everyone was on his side and willing to help ease his mind. 

He was going to get you back. 

~ Two Months Ago ~

Joel was running late. He had forgotten entirely about the father-daughter dance, and now he was speeding through yellow lights to make it home. He promised Sarah he’d go, but if he was being honest, the thought of seeing you again made him overwhelmingly nervous. What would he say to you? What would you think of him? What if he ruined his second chance?

Bolting through the garage, Joel called out for Sarah in a rush. She came barreling down the stairs in a blur of lavender and Joel had to stop his racing thoughts to admire his daughter.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Joel smiled. “Y’look beautiful.”

“You’re late,” she frowned. “We need to go now.”

She tugged his hand back toward the garage and into the truck. While Joel grappled with the reality that he was going to see you again, Sarah was buzzing with excitement. She saw you every day at school, but this was different. She wasn’t just seeing you… she was going to see you and Joel together in the same room since before the accident. Sarah never got to say a proper goodbye when everything happened, and Joel knew it was hard for Sarah to maintain a semblance of composure every time she sat at her school desk. The memories of you two together were embedded so deep it was hard for Sarah to ignore. Before the school year, Sarah would try to talk about you with Joel from time to time, trying to cling to the nostalgia of the past. Joel knew the suffering wasn’t just his alone; Sarah lost you that day, too. 

Joel’s hands were shaking as he put the truck in park, his eyes unsteady as he tried to focus on the school's entrance. You were somewhere inside that gymnasium; he could feel it. It was like a silent call, a tug on an invisible string, an asteroid coming into orbit. You were the pull on his gravity, just beckoning him closer. 

“Dad, c’mon!” Sarah begged, unlocking the door.

She was already skipping down the parking lot before Joel could put his keys in his back pocket. He urged her to return so they could walk inside together—maybe because he needed the moral support. He had everyone on his side for this plan, but if he fucked it up, it wouldn’t just be his loss. It would be everyone’s. 

The gymnasium was covered in twinkling lights, and the basketball court transformed into a dance floor for the evening. Joel’s eyes bounced around the room, searching for you within the crowd. Through the crowd of moving bodies, he couldn’t find you. Maybe you weren’t here; maybe it was too late. 

Joel refused to be defeated this quickly and decided to remain focused on Sarah. At the end of the day, this dance was for her. He watched as she mingled with her friends, fawning over each other's dresses and gossiping about the latest drama. Joel remained on the outer edge of the dance floor, his palms damp from sweat and his pulse racing. 

The music shifted to a slow song, and Sarah quickly found Joel and pulled him onto the dancefloor. Seeing her excitement alleviated the bundle of anxiety pulsating inside his chest. He watched as her dress floated around her with every turn, the dimples on her face appearing as he continued twirling her around. The music was slowly drifting to a close, and Joel ushered Sarah in for one last spin. He couldn’t contain the smile on his face as he watched her happiness radiate into the space around him. He maneuvered himself around her twirling body and glanced up toward the side of the gym.

Everything around him ceased to exist at that moment. Amidst the blurring bodies and the chaos of voices, the world stood still. There you were, standing quietly in the shadows, your body bathed in flickering lights, like a lighthouse in the distance of a stormy sea. Joel silently pleaded for you to look at him, even for a second.

As if you heard his thoughts, your eyes met his for a fleeting moment, and it’s as if you saw him. The room melted away, and it was just you and him for the briefest moment in time. Joel swore you looked at him as if you remembered…as if you had searched the room just to find him. The erratic beating of his heart slowed, his body recognizing the strange comfort of your presence even at a distance. Every cell, every atom, every piece of himself cried out to you. 

You saw him.

And he smiled.

[romana-after-dark]

Our Gentle Sins: Chapter 8

Thank you so so so much to @plasticbabies for making this beautiful header!!!! we finally have a good one!

Dark!Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Series Masterlist : Main Masterlist : Logan Masterlist

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Chapter summary: Past. Logan and you dance. Present. Your admit your issues with doctors.

Warnings: This fic features non con, pregnancy, and themes of religous trauma. I will not be saying everything that happens to warm you, by clicking read more you are prepared for extremely dark themes and that you at 18+. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

3.0 words

Before

You were beautiful. No, no, beautiful wasn’t enough. Radiant. Ethereal… Fuck, Logan was struggling to find words as he watched you in your dress, confidently striding around the dance with a spring in your step. You wore a yellow, floral dress that vaguely resembled regency era, everyone around you wearing the best they could get. Charles had put money towards allowing the teens to get nice dress clothes, believing knowing how to dress properly was important, so when you and your literature class planned a school ball, they were prepared. Everyone came, because of course they did. You were the favorite teacher.

Being the favorite teacher meant Logan hadn’t hardly seen you all evening, watching you float like a butterfly around the hall talking to everyone. You had enlisted him and Remy, as well as a few others like Scott or Emma to help chaperone, but you and Remy and him had spent the week setting everything up. Logan never saw himself as the type to hang up streamers, but for you he’d do it all. Sometimes, he’d catch you glancing towards him even while chatting with another, and that made him happy.

You made him happy.

“She’s beautiful, Logan.” Kurt appeared next to him, but Logan didn’t stop watching you. The way you looked tonight, he needed to make sure you didn’t suffer unwanted attention. He’d protect you. 

“Yeah, she really is.”

“You make a move yet?”

Logan rolls his eyes. Kurt was nosey. “No, Kurt. You know I can’t.”

A chuckle beside him. “No, I actually don’t. Charles didn’t actually say you couldn’t. I think you just like to wallow in self pity. Remy agrees.”

His head whips towards his friend, tearing his eyes off you for just a minute. “The fuck you talking to the Cajun about me for?”

Kurt remained playful. “Besides you and her, no one wants you together more than Remy does. Now, for fucks sake Logan, go get your girl.”

*

You were talking to Hank, discussing the struggles of making the most period accurate dance you could with one of the few people here who could understand.

“Can I cut in?”

Logan.

You turn to see him, and god, he was beautiful as ever, but incredible in that dapper suit. He slaps a friendly hand on Hank’s back, and Hank gives him a knowing look, politely excusing himself to go get some food. Logan smiles down at you, holding out his hand. “May I have this dance?”

Heat warms your skin, heart picking up as you try and fail to hold back a smile, taking his hand. “My dance card is very full, but I think I can squeeze you in.”

It was perfect. Logan, being the man 200 something years old, knew how to dance. Remaining chaste, somehow you still managed to feel like he was burning a hole through your clothes when he touched you. His hand on your waste felt indecent, salacious… but his touch on your shoulder was downright lewd. Logan had never seen your shoulders, always covered up even that night, and a few nights after, you came to his room as he tossled in the throws of a nightmare. Not that he had seen the waist he touched so lightly either, but you imagined him slipping off the dress with the hand on you, heat beginning to pool in your stomach.

 Logan had never mentioned catching you masturbating, although he’d certainly heard you calling his name as well. The window was nothing to his hearing. He was polite enough to leave it be, and that’s one of the things that made you fall in love with him. He was better than you deserved. Logan was good, Logan was kind and gentle and you didn’t care what other people thought of him. He was better than you.

“You look beautiful, Dolly.” Logan spoke earnestly, thumb caressing over the material on your collar bone, making you wince in pain, his large hand splayed over you. 

The compliment made you blush, casting your eyes away. You knew how to take a compliment, even if you weren’t convinced of its truth. “Thank you.”

“Hey.” His hand, smooth and soft from the regenerative cells in his body, cupped your face, coaxing it up to look at him. “I mean it.” When your eyes avoid his, he presses further. “Why don’t you believe me?”

You swallow hard. How to explain it without sounding like a jealous or catty bitch. You didn’t hate other women. You were jealous of many here, yes of course you were. Jean, Emma, Rogue, Storm. Of course you were jealous, you weren’t an idiot. But it wasn’t the sort that made you dislike them. All the women here had been wonderful to you, but still, you struggled to connect. You felt out of place in womanhood, often feeling as if you were a perpetual teenage girl on the outskirts, no idea how to be a woman correctly. It wasn’t that you were a virgin, but you hadn’t had any idea what they were talking about with sex. Your husband made you feel dirty for wanting to try anything new.

You didn’t know how to do make-up or how to dress like them, do hair and fuck and kiss and maybe kiss each other? You didn’t know. Did friend kiss all the time like in college movies? What was normal? Getting married at 16 certainly wasn’t. You couldn’t really talk to them about interests because you didn’t really know what interested you. You liked reading, but the books Emma read were…. Well, far from the Jane Austen and Agatha Christie you read. Part of you wanted to read those books… but you was scared.

It was a big world out there, and you didn’t know how to navagate it.

“Dolly, talk to me.”

“I just… sometimes I wonder why you spend so much time with me… there are far prettier women here-”

“Dolly-” 

“Who don’t cry when they try on pants, who don’t dress like grandmas, who can drive a car-”

Who can give you children.

“Hey-”

“You should be spending your time chasing someone who can give you what you want. I’m not an idiot, Logan. I know you feel what I feel for you but…” Tears prickled at your eyes. “But I can’t… I can’t be what you need or want, Logan. I can’t.”

For a long moment, you danced in silence, Logan leaving you in a waltz as bodies blurred around you. Scott and Emma, Remy and Rogue, student couples of yours who you’d suspected were together… all of it surround you, filling the air with lust and love and friendship. In the middle of it, you and Logan, some combination of all three.

“I’m not who you think I am, Logan.”

“What do you know of what I need, baby doll? I don’t need what others have. I need what you have. I need you. You. You are my dolly, nothing else matters.”

Your next words blurted out. “I can’t get pregnant.”

Another pause. “I guessed that.”

Your head whips up, finally looking at him in shocked confusion. “What?!”

“Fundamentalists don’t believe in birth control. They don’t even believe in um… natural family planning. You were married several years. So, either you didn’t get pregnant either because of you or him, or you left children behind.”

“I’d never leave children with that monster.” You spat out your words.

“I know. I know you wouldn’t. I figured it was either you or him.”

His trust in your character touched you, but there was something else that stood out. “What do you mean him?” Logan narrowed his eyes, brows pinched together.

“Him? If he didn’t have enough…” He hesitated to find the polite words. “Well, if the issue was on his end.”

Your skin, if it was burning before with Logan’s touch, was on fire in a rage. “You mean the issue could’ve been him?”

*

You were absolutely livid. All those years, all those years he blamed you, said you were barren, and it could have been him! Your beliefs at the time didn’t allow for medical intervention for women who struggled with infertility (natural only!) so you never went to the doctor for help conceiving. For years you were miserable, wanting a child, wanting nothing more than to be a mother, told all you were worth was your potential motherhood and since you couldn’t live up to it, you were nothing.

And it might not have been because of you.

Logan watched with concern as your eyes filled with tears, burying your head in his nice shirt to hide your crying as you explained it all. Every negative pregnancy test, how badly you wanted it, the nights you spent on your knees until the bruises begin God to be worthy of a child.. How every time one of your siblings or church members announced a pregnancy you rejoiced for them but felt a punch in the gut, how your husband beat you for your failures. 

“Did Logan make you cry?”

Scott pulled you out of your thoughts. Not long after you and Logan danced, Scott asked for one and you happily obliged. Scott was very kind. Remy was a good friend, Logan was… whatever was happening with Logan. But Scott checked in on you regularly. See if you needed anything, if you were settling into the school well, if you were having any trouble or concerns with the teens. When you were sick, he checked in late that day much to Logans annoyance.

“What?” You snap to attention. “Oh! No, no… I was just… other stuff, you know.”

You couldn’t see Scotts eyes, so reading his face was harder than with most. Over the years, you’ve gotten good at reading men's body language and facial expressions, the only way to survive in the male dominated world you grew up in. Scott was an enigma. 

“Are you sure? Because Judith,” His use of your pseudonym threw you off. “If anyone here is harming you, we won’t protect them. I know the life you had, but you can just us. We won’t choose Logan over you.”

What on earth was he talking about? “Logan wouldn’t hurt me, Mr. Summers.” You insist, eyes searching for Remy, hoping to get out of this conversation.

Scott’s thumb pulled at the top of your dress, moving it aside just a single inch, but you knew what it revealed. You gasp, swiftly covering it up again, hoping no one saw. “What-”

“If he is hurting you, you need to tell me. I promise, I can he-”

A large, hairy hand clamped down on Scotts shoulder, a subdued cry of pain escaping Scotts lips. 

Logan spoke, a dark, low voice in Scotts ear. “The only fucking reason I’m not tearing your arm off is because my baby doll spent months planning this dance and it would be rude to spray blood all over her guest. So I suggest you take your hands off her, and we handle this outside like men.”

*

“LOGAN STOP!” You scream, crying against the wall as you watched Scott and Logan fight in the parking lot. Well, fight wasn’t the right word. Scott could probably have killed Logan if he was really trying, but he wasn’t. Scott was far more rational than Logan was, especially now.

The two men battled it out, leaving you all but forgotten as you sob on the floor.

Then, an explosion. It wasn’t big, nothing and no one was damaged, but enough to make Scott and Logan stumble back and pause, chests heaving in their torn and dirty formalwear. 

“For fucks sake!” Remy appeared from the purple cloud, gesturing towards you. “I leave for 5 minutes and I come back to find my friends fighting like teenage boys! And I do say boys, cher, because a man,” He reached a hand to you, helping you up. “Wouldn’t leave a lady crying on the floor!”

“Take her inside.” Scott instructs. “I’ll handle this.”

Logan’s ‘fuck off’ went unnoticed. 

“And what, exactly, are you handling?”

“I dunno, Remy, maybe something to do with the claw marks on her!”

All eyes turned to you, including Remy. “Pistache,” His voice was gentle. Did something happen?”

You melt under the pressure, slinking away behind where Remy stood. “I can explain, Mr. Summers.”

And just like that, eyes were back on Scott. “Are really out here trying to kill our brother in arms before you even ask the girl what happened?”

Scott looked embarrassed. “She won’t say anything about him! She’s clearly scared! Besides, I wasn’t trying kill him…”

“Ah, just maim him then.”

“Dolly.” Logans voice called to you. He looked so worried, so sad, his eyes wide and desperate. “Did I… hurt you?”

You nod. “But Logan… It was the nightmare.” You turn to Scott, a hint of indignation you couldn’t help for him accusation to Logan, but a softness because someone, someone cared enough to notice. “He was having a nightmare. He scratched me in his sleep when I tried to wake him.”

Once again unreadable, Scotts voice was careful. “You don’t have to defend him. You can-”

“Respectfully, Mr. Summers,” You said, letting go of Remy in favor of approaching Logan and taking his hand. “I’ve survived abuse once. I told people then, they didn’t believe me but I told them. I would do it again if Logan did that. But from Logan’s point of view, you were pulling at my clothing. So I think its best both of you sweep this under the rug as a misunderstanding.” You walk away, taking Logan with you. “Logan and I are about to miss the last dance.”

After

“You’re missing the dance.”

“Can’t wear anything that won’t show them I’m pregnant.”

It was prom, and you had organized another dance for it. Months of work, and you couldn’t even see your students dresses. Everything nice enough to chaperone would be too tight, thanks to the slight bump. You didn’t know Logan would be back so soon, but him and Kurt returned this evening. Under the blankets, you feigned sickness to Remy, asking him to attend the ball in your stead, show your students the love you wanted to give.

Your first year here was almost done, and you were sure once the pregnancy came out you’d be fired. You couldn’t expect Charles to put the baby through daycare.

The room was dark, but the glow of the TV illuminated Logan as he sat on the chair with a heavy sigh.

“How's the girl?” You ask.

“She’s gonna need a lot of rest and food and she’s on an IV but… she’ll make it. Seems happy to be here. Kurt and her got along well.”

“Good.” The Tv drowned out the quiet, Bobs Burgers again. “You know, I don’t understand half of this show sometimes. Pop Culture references I don’t get. Like, who is queen Laytifa? Who is Bruce Springsteen? I don’t know.”\

A beat. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t get a lot of the jokes either.”

You give a small chuckle. “It kinda does. At least I have an excuse.”

Logan gives you a moment before asking. “How are you been since i left.”

You try to think of an honest answer. “Morning sickness is terrible. Nightmares are worse than ever, but Remy’s helped me. I’m too fat for some of my clothes already. Not going great, honestly.”

“Dolly,” He huffs, “We need to get you into a-”

“A doctor. I know. School’s out in two weeks.” You take a deep breath and release it slowly. “I’m teaching a few summer classes and the literature club is meeting through the summer but… I’m free at noon every day. We can go, I guess.”

Logan’s heart leap, relieved to finally get you and his baby medical care once again. He knew this was difficult for you, you never went to doctors for anything this whole school year.

“Is it a naturopathic thing? Like you guys didn’t believe in science.”

You groan, covering your face with a blanket. “Why do you think we’re friends, Logan? I’m not talking to you about my life like this!”

Frustrated and tired, he tugged the blanket back down. “”I just wanna take care of you, dolly!”

“After you raped me!” Your words hung in the air, bitter on your tongue, but more spilled out. “I- I was pregnant once. I think. It was too early to test but I just… knew. And then he beat me. It was… it was so bad, Logan. I’ve never known pain like that. And then I started bleeding. I tried to tell a doctor I was being abused…” You willed yourself not to cry this time. “But he told me…”

You think back to that night, your eyes pinched shut as you recounted it to Logan. Everything hurt. You wanted a female doctor but your husband insisted on seeing a family friend. When you were alone you tried to say no, you didn’t fall that he did this too you. You tried to say that you made you miscarry!

‘Do you know what the laws are for abortion here, ma’am?’

His question stunned you.

‘Uh… illegal?’

You didn’t really know.

‘Legal in some circumstances, unfortunately. But illegal outside of medical performance, and we don’t know how far along you are.’

‘I’m only-’

‘Whose to say. My point is, how are we to know you didn’t try to skirt around the law and end your own pregnancy?’

You couldn’t take the TV anymore. Too loud, too bright. You turn it off, getting up to open the window for fresh air. Through the crack, music from the prom spilled in, Glitter in the Air. 

Logan’s arms wrapped around your waist, burying his hair in your face and you wanted to pull away. You wanted to scream. But you also wanted Logan to just be your Logan again. Maybe he was? You had missed him, even now after everything you missed him. You wanted to be with him. 

“Dance with me, Dolly. Even if it’s our last.”

So you danced with him. And it was not the last.

But Charles returned for graduation, and you needed to make a choice what to do.

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[olivexii]

⁀➷ ┄─ ˑ II . ☆ ──ㅤ Knee Socks

Joseph Descamps x reader

Chapter 2

Masterlist

Warnings: Suggestive comments

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

After a long hour, the bell rang. Everyone quickly stood up and gathered their things.

Michèle had not came back for her bag yet, so Simone packed up both of their things, me waiting for her as she did so.

“Do you think she got into a lot of trouble?” She questioned as she stuffed her pencil case into her bag.

“I don’t think so, the dean’s her uncle and she wasn’t the one who wrote the note.”

She hummed in response before swinging her bag over her shoulder and handing me Michèle’s light green cardigan to carry.

By now most people had left, the classroom a lot quieter now.

“What’s his name?” I leaned in and whispered to Simone before she turned her head to look at me.

“Who?”

I nodded my head towards the tall boy with the glasses behind me.

“I’m not sure…” She shook her head softly, “Something beginning with D I think.”

“I’ll find out later.” I whispered back, “Let’s go, we need to give Michèle her things back.”

.・。.・゜✭��.・✫・゜・。.

“Are you alright?” Simone asked Michèle worriedly as we walked over to her outside, “Did things go badly with your uncle?”

“Yeah, even the teachers aren’t happy we’re here apparently.” Michèle sighed defeatedly as we handed her her bag and cardigan.

“Well that’s reassuring.” I joked.

“The teachers maybe, as for the boys I’m not so sure.” Simone smirked, “Going by the way they look at us, some of the boys are happy we’re here.

“You reckon?” Michèle giggled as we looked around, “But they’re not like that in class.”

“The ones in our class are still immature, I’m talking about the ones in the upper forms, they’re the ones we’re interested in.” Simone states as she starts backing away from us slowly, “I’ve gotta go I’m gonna burst.”

As she runs off towards the bathroom I scan the grounds. Everyone is minding their own business, while my eyes are drawn towards the same boy again, sitting on a bench with two other boys sat around him.

Simone runs back to us quickly, giggling, her arms flailing by her head, “That was the boys bathroom, I came face to face with-”

“What’s going on!?”

We all turn and see an older boy stood by the doorway with his arms thrown up angrily.

“Sorry!” Simone giggles as she grabs my arm and starts walking away.

“That’s so embarrassing!” Michèle exclaims.

“Do they not have a bathroom for the girls?” I turn to the other two once we walked a fair distance from the bathroom.

“Don’t think so, I haven’t seen one.” Michèle shrugs.

“Well that’s annoying.”

They both nod in agreement.

“Don’t turn around, but there’s a boy heading our way.” Simone whispers.

Michèle slowly turns her head behind us before I quickly turn her head back with the tips of my fingers, the other girl giggling at the action.

A cough is heard and we all slowly turn around to face him, acting as though we hadn’t seen him beforehand.

“Why did you stand up for him?” It was the boy with the glasses.

“What?”

“Laubrac. You stood up for him last lesson.”

“Y-yeah, because he didn’t write the note.”

Me and Simone remained silent, watching the scene unfold.

“Well you shouldn’t have, if the teacher would have listened I could have been the one getting into trouble.” He puts his hands in his pockets and turns his head towards me slightly, making eye contact.

“Rightfully so!” Michèle exclaims.

He rolls his eyes and turns back to her, “Just keep quiet from now on, we don’t need your annoying voice in the classroom snitching on people.”

As he walks away I admire him again. His head turning slightly to look back at me as he does.

Michèle and Simone turn to face each other, scoffing at the ‘rude boy’.

“I don’t like him, he’s so full of himself.”

Suddenly the bell rings, and I turn to face the two other girls with a small smile.

“Let’s go, don’t want to be late for class.” I tell them before walking towards the school doors.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The next hour of lesson went by quickly, not a lot happened, just awkward eye contact from across the classroom and a lot of boring information from the teacher.

Lunch rolled around next, all of the girls were sat on one table at the back. The soft chatter from the other students filled the room.

“Is it true you’re the dean’s niece?” Annick, who I was sat across from, asked Michèle.

“Yes…” Michèle replied reluctantly.

“Handy.” the blonde girl shrugged.

Me and Simone continued chewing on our food, listening in on the conversation.

Suddenly, Pichon fell onto our table, his hand landing onto Annick’s plate, as laughter filled the room.

“S-sorry Annick.” He said softly, “Would you like my lunch?”

“It’s that moron who should be doing something about it.” Michèle starts confidently as people began booing.

We all turn to look at the table diagonally in-front of us, the boy with the glasses turned around in his chair with a smirk on his face.

“Is there a problem with the dean’s niece?” He his arm on the back of his chair, “Laubrac is innocent, Descamps is bad the bad one.” He mocks her voice and sticks his bottom lip out for affect.

I turn to Pichon and give him a reassuring smile as he stands by me awkwardly, wiping his hands of the food.

As I turn back to the boys table, Descamps is turned to look at me, but he quickly looks away once he notices me.

“The deans niece and the bastard, what a beautiful love story!” The room fills with noise at the statement as he turns back to laugh with his friends.

“By the way what did you write that was so interesting earlier?” I question him, attempting to stand up for Michèle.

This caught his attention quickly, and he turns back towards me curiously, eye brows raised.

“I didn’t write anything, it was a drawing.” He purses his lips, “Hang on, I’ll show you.” He smiles softly and turns back to the table.

Picking up a sauce bottle, he draws something on his potatoes before lifting the plate up.

“It’s a portrait.” He states and laughs as he shows the drawing of breasts to the table.

Simone shakes her head as I glare at him.

“Does this remind you of anyone?” She picks up a sausage, breaking it in half and holding it up to him.

This causes an eruption in the room, Descamps’ face dropping as he slowly turns back around in defeat.

I giggle at Simone and she turns to face me with a bright smile on her face.

“Hey! Calm down!” A teacher walks in and shouts.

I look back at Descamps, only to find him already looking at me, leaning on his arms and not breaking eye contact.

I was the first to look away after a few seconds, feeling my face going red from the interaction.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

After lunch was finished, me and the two girls were walking side by side to our next class.

“Hey, look! He’s eyeing you up.” Simone whispered to Michèle, nodding her head to an older boy with dark hair ahead of us.

Michèle looked uncomfortable, and changed the subject.

“You any good at English?”

“Are you listening to me? You should, because that boy was really handsome.” The dark haired girl whined, “Just like Alain Delon.”

“Alain Delon?” Michèle laughed as we entered the classroom, “If the real Alain Delon was-”

Just then a bucket of water came down onto Michèle, soaking her and splashing me and Simone.

Gasps and laughs came from inside the classroom, me and Simone just looking at Michèle and at our slightly soaked clothes.

The drenched girl slowly turned around to look at us before Simone looked down at her white dress, having been soaked through and showing her bra.

Just then the English teacher walked up behind us. I moved away and entered the classroom, looking around at the shocked faces.

Descamps stood at the front with his hands in his pockets, trying to contain his smile.

“Keep an eye on them.” Miss Couret directed to Annick as she quickly took off her jacket to cover Michèle, guiding her out of the classroom.

“Why would you do that?” I asked Descamps, taking a few steps in his direction.

“Do what?” He smirked, “You have no proof I did anything.” He took a few steps towards me before turning his head towards his friends.

He then walked back and grabbed a piece of chalk, laughing as he drew another picture of breasts on the board, “Who wants to see my tits?”

I strides towards him and grabbed the chalk out of his hand, realising just how much taller he was. He quickly turned to look at me, smirking.

A shove then knocked the wind out of me, and I stumbled towards him slightly. Descamps grabbed my arm to keep me steady, looking down at me worriedly before glaring to the left.

The ‘Alain Delon’ from before had stormed into the classroom, accidentally knocked me, and punched Dupin in the face, sending him flying into a desk.

Descamps was quick to run over, trying to pull him away, but this ended in him being knocked back and punched in the face, glasses flying.

I looked over at Simone, a scared expression on both of our faces. Felbec held up the wire framed glasses, a big piece of glass missing from the left lens.

Whimpering came from Descamps as everyone stood in shock, not knowing what to do.

“Everyone back to your places!” Mr Bellanger called as he entered the classroom. Quickly he made his way over to the whimpering boy, blood dripping onto the floor.

“My eye!” He whined as he was crouched down, his hand over his face.

“Let me see.”

“My eye. I can’t see anything!”

“Don’t touch it, whatever you do, don’t touch it.” Mr Bellanger said in a state of panic.

“Pichon get matron straight away. He has a piece of glass in his eye.” He told Mrs Giraud, who was now at their side.

“We’re taking him to the hospital.”

“Get back to your classrooms!” Mrs Giraud shouted at students at the doorway, curious to see the commotion.

I stood still by the board, looking at Descamps worriedly.

An argument started across the classroom, Dupin threatening ‘Alain Delon’, before he was stopped by the teacher.

Mrs Couret, Pichon, and the matron had come into the classroom now. Mrs Couret stood in shock of what had happened in her classroom.

Descamps left with the matron while some people were sent out of the classroom.

I walked over to Simone nervously, hands at my side, not knowing what to do with myself.

“Everyone sit down!” Mr Bellanger called.

I hurriedly made my way to my seat across the classroom, sitting down and worrying about what was going to happen to Descamps.

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

A/N: tumblr won’t let me add the song knee socks by arctic monkeys 😔

[thatfeelinwhenyou]

KINDRED — 40 (finale)

It’s your final year of highschool, and your only goal is to graduate top of your cohort, as usual. Except as student council president, your advisor can’t seem to leave you alone. What happens when you take Decelis Academy’s top student, their star athlete and put them in front of a camera?

written (2.7k words)

❥･• episode 40 — her entire being is lovable

The week after Jungwon’s competition, the two of you slip back into the usual programming of studying together after school, despite the documentary having ceased filming. It's a curious irony, isn't it? Now liberated from the suffocating grip of your mother's expectations, free to pursue your own desires, yet you find yourself still tethered to your books, for she was right when she says you can’t go anywhere without decent grades. 

You also don’t know what else to do in school besides studying. The library, with its quiet embrace, has become your refuge, a familiar haven and a place where you seek clarity amidst the chaotic excuse you call your current predicament. With your resignation as student body president, all that remains is the race against time until your college entrance exams.

"Y/N, sorry for being late!" Jungwon's voice breaks through the quiet murmur of the library as he settles beside you in your customary corner. You offer him a shy smile, basking in the familiar scent of his cologne that wraps around you like a comforting blanket.

"I finished a whole chapter waiting for you," you tease gently, knowing full well that he'll feel a twinge of guilt for keeping you waiting, only for you to feel bad for making him feel bad. And now you’re both feeling guilty and he’s demanding a kiss from you to make up for it.

"I never took you for the clingy type in a relationship, Yang Jungwon," you chuckle softly, playfully pushing a finger against his forehead to halt any public displays of affection in the holy vicinity of a public library.

"Yeah, well, I didn’t think you’d be rejecting my attempts at showering you with love when we’re a whole fortnight into dating," he pouts, his bag dropping to the seat beside you with a sullen thud. If one other thing did change aside from your relationship status, it would be the fact that Jungwon no longer sits across from you, but beside you. He insists it’s for practicality's sake, which to a certain extent you agree.

Truth be told, Jungwon just finds it distracting to be directly across from you, where he was in full capacity to be distracted by the beautiful features of your face. Not that the new arrangement helped anyway when he is still constantly reaching for your hand to hold, a silent plea for your touch that you gladly reciprocate.

“Why did the teacher hold you back anyway?”

"Couldn't believe my math grades improved so much; he thought I cheated on the recent quiz. Never thought I was doing so badly to make him doubt me that much."

"I mean… you were pretty horrendous," you quip with a grin, nudging him playfully. "Emphasis on ‘were’!" you add, teasingly, knowing he won't take it too seriously. He proves you right as he scoffs at your candid assessment of his past academic struggles. After all, deep down, you both know there's some truth to it...

"We have that final confessional with Producer Choi later today, right?"

"Yeah, can’t believe two months just flew by like that. Feels like just yesterday we were agreeing to only pretend to like each other." You snicker softly, sensing the irony in the situation now that you and Jungwon are in an official (not fake) relationship.

The irony is not lost on Jungwon as you catch his silent smile, knowing he, too, is lost in the memories of that pivotal moment, where pretence gave way to something real and profound.

"What's to say I'm not pretending right now?" Jungwon raises an eyebrow, eliciting an exaggerated gasp from you.

"Are you suggesting you still hate me?" you exclaim, feigning offence and playfully inching away from him on your chair. Jungwon's reaction is immediate, grabbing onto you as he pleads for you to stay, insisting he was only joking.

"So, you don’t hate me?" you inquire with mock seriousness.

"No, I would never!" He envelops you in a sideways hug, leaving you in a precarious position where, without his support, you'd probably topple off the chair, earning judgmental stares from every library patron within a half-mile radius.

With his arm around you, you gaze up at the finely sculpted features of his face, marvelling at how you ever found this man annoying in the first place. As Jungwon's fingers toy with the strands of thread hanging off your uniform blazer, a comfortable silence settles between you. 

“When’s your confessional?” Jungwon's question breaks the serene silence, prompting you to glance at the clock and realise the time constraints you're under.

"I'll have to leave soon if I don’t want to be late. Your confessional is right after mine, yeah?" you confirm, already mentally preparing to make your move.

"Yep, I’ll meet you at the gate after, and we could go for some snacks!" Jungwon suggests with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"Is this another one of your tricks to feed me into a coma so we don’t have to study?" you quip, raising an eyebrow in playful scepticism.

Jungwon feigns innocence, his grin widening. "Who, me? Never!" he replies, his tone dripping with sarcasm. You chuckle, knowing full well his penchant for indulging in snacks whenever the opportunity arises. But as you gather your things and prepare to leave, you can't help but look forward to the prospect of spending some more time with Jungwon, even if it means indulging in a few too many treats along the way.

You arrive promptly at the confessional venue, positioned strategically in the field right by the entrance of the school so the logo can be seen clearly in the background.  This meant people, a lot of them, stopping nearby to watch and observe the commotion as it's not every day you get to see a whole camera crew in the front yard of your school.

Spotting Producer Choi among the crew members, you make your way over and exchange greetings. "Y/N! It’s been a while, hasn't it?" she exclaims with a warm smile.

"It has," you reply, returning her smile as you exchange pleasantries with the familiar faces of the cameramen stationed around you.

"It felt weird not seeing you around after having seen you almost every day for the last 2 months. Strangely enough, I kind of missed it," you admit, though you sense a hint of scepticism in Producer Choi’s eyes, as she knows damn well you were the most excited for this documentary to end. 

With a gesture from Producer Choi, you settle into the stool in front of the cameras, and the familiarity of the setting washes over you. It's strange how quickly this space has become a second home over the past few months, filled with the laughter of the crew members who have become like family. With that thought in mind, you mentally ready yourself to share your thoughts and reflections on the journey you've embarked on.

"First of all, thank you, Y/N, for agreeing to be a part of this documentary," Producer Choi begins as the camera lights turn red. You nod in response, feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement coursing through you.

"Let’s start by having you share with the viewers how you felt about this journey," Producer Choi prompts, her voice gentle yet probing.

"Well, it’s not easy, that’s for sure," you begin, your words flowing more easily now that you've found your rhythm. "It was an experience that urged me to step out of my comfort zone and explore beyond a routine that I was already used to. It was difficult, no doubt, but the friendships that I’ve made along the way made this whole journey worthwhile. If I were to go back in time, I would do it again."

Producer Choi nods encouragingly, her eyes reflecting understanding and empathy. "If that’s so, tell us the most important thing you gained from this documentary."

"This experience was precious to me in many other ways than one," you continue, your voice growing more animated as you recall the memories. "But if I were to point out the most important thing I gained out of this documentary, it would be myself. It’s a little cringy, I know. It still amazes me how much I managed to change in this short period of time. But you know what they say, the best discovery starts within you, and you best believe I discovered." 

The camera captures the sincerity in your eyes, the raw emotion shining through as you speak from the heart; a genuine reflection of your growth and transformation throughout the journey.

"Throughout the airing of ‘Kindred,’ the show has gained immense popularity among both domestic and global viewers, why do you think so?" Producer Choi asks, her tone shifting to a more analytical one.

"Honestly, the documentary was able to do well all thanks to Jungwon," you respond with a chuckle, thinking of your ever-charismatic boyfriend. "Without Jungwon, I genuinely think you guys would have produced the most yawn-bearing documentary to date. I acknowledge my lack of entertainment wits. There is also the whole strange pairing between Jungwon and I, even I admit that I’d be interested to find out how our very unique dynamics would work with each other."

The crew members share a knowing smile, having witnessed firsthand the magnetic chemistry between you and Jungwon that has captivated audiences around the world. It's a testament to the power of authenticity and genuine connection, something that can't be manufactured or scripted.

"Speaking about Jungwon, how has your relationship with him changed throughout the show?" Producer Choi inquires, her curiosity piqued.

"Jungwon is really special to me," you admit, a soft smile gracing your lips as you think of him. "I’m glad I got to properly know him through this experience. I’ll forever be grateful to ‘Kindred’ for bringing him into my life."

"Seems like there's something more to it, but I won't pry! But now that you’re graduating soon, what’s next?" Producer Choi prompts, her tone shifting to one of anticipation.

"Hmm… I’m not sure," you confess, feeling a pang of uncertainty creep in. "Ironic since you’d expect the girl with perfect grades to know what she wants to do. But I’m still working on that. Although, tutoring Jungwon made me realise how much I actually love teaching. May or may not consider pursuing it in the future, but we’ll see. I’m not in a rush anyway."

"Lastly, is there anything you want to say to the viewers of ‘Kindred’?" 

"To all the viewers of Kindred, thank you for all the support and attention you gave us!" you exclaim, genuine gratitude shining in your eyes. "I’m glad you found some sort of joy going through this journey with Jungwon and I. It’s an experience I’ll hold close to my heart forever."

As the final words leave your lips, you can't help but feel a sense of closure wash over you. This chapter of your life, filled with ups and downs, laughter and tears, is coming to an end. But as you look back on the memories you've created and the relationships you've forged, you know that the impact of this experience will stay with you for a lifetime.

"By the way, will Jungwon be doing his interview here too?" you ask, curiosity tugging at you.

"Why of course," Producer Choi replies with a smile.

"Can I watch?" you inquire, eager to see Jungwon in the hot seat for a change.

"You don’t see Jungwon here now, do you? We got to play it fair, Y/N," she says with a wink as she scurries you away from the film site, leaving you with a sense of anticipation for Jungwon’s answers now that you know the questions that were being asked.

"What was your answer to the question?" you grab onto his arms, shaking it relentlessly trying to get him to fold, even equipping your signature puppy eyes. Jungwon, however, continues to chew on his food that both of you bought off a random street cart, and is now seated at the very same bench where you shared your first kiss.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me,” you consider revealing your answers but decide against it when you think back to your responses and visibly cringe.

Jungwon, ever the enigmatic one, simply smirks, his lips curling into a playful grin. His eyes sparkle with mischief as he toys with you, taking another casual bite of his street food as if your inquiry were nothing more than a fleeting thought.

You roll your eyes, knowing damn well the game he's playing. This teasing banter, a familiar exchange between the two of you, only adds to the playful dynamic of your relationship. But deep down, you can't help but wonder what his answer might have been.

“I guess we’ll only know when they broadcast it,” you shrug, resigning to the mystery as you lean your head on his shoulders. The warmth of his presence beside you, and the gentle rhythm of his breathing, all serve as a comforting anchor amidst the bustling street around you.

As Jungwon reaches over to play with the strands of your hair, a comfortable silence washes over you. The sound of distant chatter and the occasional honking of car horns fade into the background, leaving only the two of you in your own little bubble of tranquillity.

With a playful smile, you reach up to gently swat at Jungwon's hand, feigning annoyance. "Stop messing with my hair," you tease, though secretly enjoying the attention. Jungwon chuckles, his warm breath brushing against your cheek as he leans in closer.

"But it's so fun," he counters, his voice a mere whisper. You roll your eyes playfully, unable to contain your grin. "You're lucky I like you," you retort, leaning into his touch despite your mock protest.

Jungwon's laughter fills the air, a melodious sound that resonates deep within you. His genuine joy is contagious, spreading warmth and happiness with every moment you share.

"I know," Jungwon replies with a smirk, tightening his hold around you. "And I'm lucky to have you." You smile to yourself, the warmth of Jungwon's words enveloping you like a soft embrace. His ability to express his feelings so openly still catches you off guard at times, leaving you feeling both exhilarated and a little overwhelmed.

"You know, you have a way with words," you tease, lifting your head to meet his gaze. Jungwon's smirk widens into a full-blown grin, his eyes sparkling with affection. "Only when I'm talking to you," he replies, his voice filled with sincerity.

The sincerity in his words touches something deep within you, stirring a gentle flutter of emotions in your chest. Despite any doubts or uncertainties that may linger, there's a sense of reassurance in knowing that Jungwon is by your side, ready to face whatever challenges come your way.

You never fully comprehended why you felt so connected to Jungwon in the first place. Sure, you could say that anybody in your position—forced to film a documentary 24/7 with a decent-looking boy (though you’d rather die than admit this back then)—you were bound to catch feelings.

To you, Jungwon is more than just a forced proximity crush; he's an anomaly in your otherwise stoic and academic-focused life. An anomaly that got you so frustrated trying to figure out why he’s such a constant pain in your ass. An anomaly that introduced you to the world outside of the one your mother delicately crafted for you—holding you to unrealistic expectations that she knew damn well you could never meet no matter how much you tried.

He helped you understand that this life is a journey that you shape. That no matter what, mistakes are inevitable. You can give your everything and still somehow manage to fuck things up along the way. Yet, the beauty lies in the way you get to decide how you’re going to fuck up. And there’s no one you’d rather navigate these missteps with than Jungwon.

And while many would assume that a student council president with stellar grades and a Taekwondo athlete who can't study to save his life would never go well together, these assumptions are proven to be false as you realise the many similarities you share with Jungwon. Like how either of you will do anything for the people you care about and for the things you wish to achieve. You could say the two of you are Kindred.

As you rest against him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek, you can't help but marvel at the depth of your connection, forged through peculiar circumstances. 

With him, it doesn’t matter who you want or need to be.

With him, life seems completely different, exciting and worthwhile.

prev | masterlist | next

♡。·˚˚· ·˚˚·。♡

authors note: aaaaand that marks the end of kindred!! i have so much i want to say but i'll save it for when the epilogue comes out! in short, thank you so much to everyone who stuck till the end despite my super irregular posting schedule... 🫣 until next time!

perm taglist. @hajimelvr @s00buwu @urmomssneakylink @bubblytaetae @mrchweeee @artstaeh @sleeping-demons @yuviqik @junsflow @blurryriki @hueningcry @fakeuwus @enhaslxt

taglist! @uuzhanggggggg @aloloveswonie @jayhoonvroom @missingemobeomgyu @jiawji @ocyeanicc @s7noo @asterizee @nwjws @noascats @yunwonie @saturnmooonxx @enhaz1 @jiaant11 @clairecottenheart @i2lain @miumiuoi @zhounauts @neocockthotology @nanuer @yenqa @ahnneyong @chanhee-hee @yanqiiuver @yujmelon @keiisu @jaeyunniesimp @jiamini @jihanniee @lilriswife4life @i-yeseo @plutoslostagain @haqzm @ilovejungwonandhaechan

[hyperfixationsporfavor]

The Secret Garden (Sukuna x Reader)

Author's Note: Hey guys. In honor of the final chapter being released I'm sharing this fic I wrote awhile ago. It's just taken me a bit to edit. I hope to keep writing jjk fics even if the series is over. Thoughts and feeling are always appreciated. Enjoy!

Warnings: character death, implied character death, jjk manga spoilers, true form sukuna

“I am a curse.”

“I am an unwanted child.”

Unwanted?

~

Sukuna watched from a distance as you tended to your garden, something you had cultivated during your time in his temple. Uraume stood dutifully behind him as he continued to observe from the shadows. 

“Perhaps you’d like to join her, my lord?”

“Are you attempting to give me orders Uraume?”

The white haired vassal bowed their head, the faintest smirk on their face hidden from view. “My apologies, my lord. I’d be remiss if I didn’t remind you of your meeting with Lady Tengen. She’s awaiting your presence in the throne room.”

“Tell her I’ll be there in a moment…and wipe that damn look off your face.”

They bowed again and promptly dismissed themself. 

Sukuna turned his attention back to the garden to find you hovering over a small shrub. He ventured towards you with a budding curiosity. 

It really was magnificent what you were able to accomplish in the year that you had started this project. 

The once desolate space of dead branches and unkempt dirt had been transformed into a collection of flowers, herbs, and vegetables all surrounding a small pond. It was vibrant and inviting, rejuvenated by the care you gave it. 

Sukuna closed the gap between you and you turned around with a start. With a hand on your chest you exhaled in relief. 

“You gave me a fright,” you sighed. “I thought you were supposed to be meeting with your former teacher today.”

Sukuna crossed both sets of his arms. “She’ll wait.”

This was unfamiliar to the proclaimed King of Curses. Having interests in what lowly non sorcerers like you did. And yet here he was drawn to you, your warm presence and kind smile.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “ You don’t usually come out here this time of day.”

You smiled at him, causing a feeling to pool through his chest.

“I didn’t realize you kept such a close eye on me, Lord Sukuna.”

Before he could scold you for your cheekiness you gestured back to your shrub. 

“It seems we have a visitor.”

A small slug had latched itself onto a singular leaf. Sukuna wrinkled his nose. “Have Uraume get some salt. That should kill it.”

You shook your head. 

Instead, you plucked the leaf off the shrub and walked towards a bush in the corner of the garden, the master of the temple trailing after you. The leaves had withered into a dull brown. You gently transferred the slug onto one of the dying leaves. The creature slithered around its new home. 

“Why not just kill it?” he asked.

You turned your attention back to Sukuna. “Because it has a place here.”

“To do what? Destroy what you’ve cultivated? Why would you allow such a pathetic little thing to do that?”

You chuckled. “I appreciate your concern, my lord. But without this slug the dead leaves would remain and the other creatures would be without a meal when they visited.”

Sukuna ran his hand through his hair. “A lot of care for something as weak as a fly head.”

You paused for a moment.

“Then, why allow me here Lord Sukuna?” you asked.

Sukuna remained silent so you continued your line of questioning. “Surely in your eyes I am no different from a garden slug, weak and superfluous. So why allow me to remain?”

Sukuna glared at you with a stern expression that began to make you worry. You had grown more comfortable with him during your stay at the temple. But had you crossed a line?

“Would you compare a rose to a weed?”

The feeling that had coursed through Sukuna began to make its way through your chest as you realized what he thought of you. 

Before you could say anything a voice rang out through the courtyard. 

“Ryomen, I don’t have all day.”

Sukuna turned to face Tengen, his former teacher unchanged from their first meeting in his youth. 

“Come,” she gestured. “We have pressing matters to discuss.”

He looked back to find you gone. 

~

Damn you Yuji Itadori.

He knew his stay in this strange new world would be short, mirroring his swift departure from his time. It was inevitable. He had always been reckless, forever indulgent to his desires for adrenaline and bloodlust. And yet, despite that, he felt anger. His new state as a small lumpish creature was almost as humiliating as how he was defeated. 

That girl, the one his former host had called Nobara. He had been bested by those brats. 

The King of Curses had fallen. 

His rage only increased as the young boy picked him up and held him in his palm.

That brat and his damn pity. He loathed how he cradled him delicately with care. The understanding expression on his face was enough to make him see white as he began to burn away. 

I am a curse.

The image of a rose in a garden remained as Yuji’s voice became distant. 

He had been banished to the afterlife by the world of the living. 

I am an unwanted child. 

A hand reached out from the darkness from behind Sukuna and pulled him back. Then another one. And another. Soon a cluster of rotting limbs began to drag him further and further away from the rose. A light began to break through the darkness above him, blinding the dethroned king. 

When his vision cleared he saw you, standing before him in heavenly white robes with a sorrowful look on your face. 

You reached out and held his face in your hands. 

He was in awe. 

Yes. 

Yes. 

He remembered how you held him. Your compassion. No matter how hard he tried to abandon his human heart you had found a way to remind him of how painfully mortal he was and would always be. 

He loathed you, because he loved you.

You were wanted. 

The hands were persistent and he began to fall, the light engulfing you as you were whisked away to a place where demons like him were forbidden. 

The dethroned king welcomed the flames of hell that embraced him. 

He let out a final sigh as he became nothing. 

The curse that never was and a human no more. 

~

The End. 

[iznsfw]

Fic idea: Mommy contest eunbi vs irene

Predator & Prey

Part Four of Dulce Periculum | Previous Part | Next Chapter

Red Velvet's Bae Joohyun (Irene) x IZ*ONE's Kwon Eunbi x Male Reader Smut

7,994 words

Categories | principal!Irene x (jealous)girlfriend!Eunbi x student!You, mommy kink, cunnilingus, oral double blowjob, snowballing, cumswap, degradation, female cucking

Surprise, it was a spoiler! Had to move the time to avoid posting in the night lol So... this is dedicated to @subfortwice, who ignites the Dulce Periculum universe, @idevian whose tutor Eunbi ask started it all, to my birthday twin @eunbisrabbit who had the idea of the collarbone thing, and to best boi @sinswithpleasure. I appreciate everything and every one of you guys! And again, sorry for the usual self-indulgent style that the whole Dulce Periculum series is based on XD and the barely edited fic. Eunrene just drive me crazy

“You little brat.”

That’s the first thing you say the next time you see Eunbi at school. Not even a “hi” or a “how are you,” but when she’s set you up to fuck her teacher and led you into a trap, it’s definitely a nice way to open your little story. This tiny little thing of a story going down, down, down the rabbit hole. 

(Holes.)

It’s all her fault. She’s conveniently fended off your questioning of the incident at the Kwon household. Now, however, with her parents nowhere to save her from your schemes, you’ve got your eyes on her. Soon, your hands will be, too. She can’t escape now. 

Eunbi squeals in fear and excitement when you run after her. Alright, so maybe she can escape. That’s fair. You bump through masses of walking students, trying to find her in the crowd. It's impossible to not identify her when her glasses and wavy hair give her away, so your eyes remain locked on her like a sniper. Your hands just itch to get on her. 

Students pass you weird and amused looks. You and Eunbi, after all, are always on some dumb shit. However, you care not for it especially if ignoring them leads you to finally cornering your girlfriend in the backyard school garden. It's a dead end—no windows or doors are here for her to attract help. She's laughing, too, and screaming a little as you pin her to the high school building wall. 

"Mmm, oppa," she giggles between her squirms and struggles, "stop—"

"You think you were slick, Eunbi?" you ask. Your fist keeps her wrists above her head. What a pretty little twist of fate—if she lured you into the trap that's Kim Taeyeon, now you're the one tying her up into your makeshift trap. It's more satisfying than seeing Jo Yuri get scolded. "For whoring me out to that teacher you're so obsessed with?"

She nods mindlessly. "Yesss."

"Brat." Kiss her. She giggles. Of course, that prompts several other kisses. "That's what you are, you know. A little fucking brat." 

Your chest fills with happiness at how she smiles and laughs despite your teasing words. She knows you'd never do anything to hurt her. It's all a little fun play of words. A little skit, to be more truthful. 

Speaking of, there's some factualness to your words, too, and she knows it. Eunbi's crushed on Taeyeon for too long and sees her as an actual mommy that she isn't jealous of your little getaway with her at all. She's probably prouder than you'd assume of her idea. 

But of course, she denies it. Denies it with every inch of her annoyingly gorgeous body.

"Can you please forgive me, oppa?" Eunbi's eyes gleam. "I promise I won't slut you out to mommy again, I pinky promise!"

She's wearing the uniform Taeyeon borrowed, and thinking of how there's still some of your teacher on it, that there's a good amount of your cum embedded into its fabric, makes you more turned on than you should. Eunbi with her arms up in her tiny uniform is an added factor. 

But then there's also a few more classes to attend. You can't fuck her here. You'd love to more than anything, yet Eunbi has her priorities, and you don't want to hold her back.

Release her hands. "One day I'll get back at you," you warn. "You're really gonna get it."

You let her off with a warning. You can be the cop here—you'd cuff her hands with your fingers, tack them to a wall or mattress, teach her a lesson. Tear that cheeky smile off her face and replace it with the lewdest expression. But you're a good cop, or at least, as good as one can get. You know it's what she wants: to be punished incessantly, so you're not giving it to her. It would be putting out fire with fire.

You turn her heel to leave. Like so, you leave her unfulfilled and needy, which is exactly how you want her to be.

"Oppa!" whines Eunbi. She runs after you. "I'm sorry!"

You shut your eyes and laugh. In hindsight, you really shouldn't have. It would have shown you a dash of a shadow mooring and watching, and prepared you for what will happen later on. 

-

Let's just say later on a letter is written. You and Eunbi don't know it yet, but there is a letter—it's written in rehearsed formality, sent to the principal's office, and given by a person who's got more control than they should have. 

So, again, just for context: there's real parchment sent to her that ties this whole story together. There's a dual meeting, and a whole lot of evidence. Keep that in mind.

-

It's one giant teenage hell in the classroom.

The boys are gaming on their phones with the Filipino exchange student, who introduced them to League of Legends. The girls have flocked to the bathrooms arm in arm, while the others stay behind to braid some of their classmates’ hair. There’s messy chalked writing on the blackboard, some too explicit to even be allowed (“Wan-pipty for wan subo," courtesy of the Filipino student, of course, and although you don’t understand his language, you have a good idea of what it means), and others promoting their favorite K-pop groups (“stan BLACKPINK, you uncultured fucks!!!!!”, to which someone has replied: “Doesn’t everyone?”).

But what else can you expect from a batch of eighteen-year-olds, especially when it’s vacant time? 

That's right: exactly this.

Either-which-way, it’s a complete mess, is what you’re saying. There's no one around to keep the noisy mess contained, not even Eunbi, who's trying to vent her frustration through doodling on her notebook. She’s already drawn several plotless comics and a rabbit named Bi, but the noise still gets to her. It irks her soul so much that her hands squeeze up and loosen too much of a grasp on her pen.

Click. It bounces back up. You catch it with one swoop of your hand. You could be Spiderman in another life. Watch out, Tom Holland, or whatever. 

“God,” she says, looking up from her notebook with a frustrated, sarcastic smile, “do these people ever shut up?”

You chuckle. You’re an open fan of Eunbi breaking her kind, forgiving character and just growing tired of everyone’s bullshit. It’s an occurrence rarer than thunder coming before lightning, a once-in-a-lifetime show only a select few are allowed to see. She’s too kind, really, that although she's the lead role, she bails out of it often.

Gesture to the messy classroom and say, in a matter-of-fact voice: “Welcome to senior year.”

“Can you tell them to be quiet?” she asks.

“Miss Myoui said only you can.” Quote her: “‘You’re the president, right? You go tell ‘em.’”

Right, Eunbi says to herself. She’s been wrapped up in too many responsibilities—captain of the volleyball team, president of every school club you can think of, plus end-of-the-year valedictorian just to name a few—that she forgets that these positions even hold meaning. It’s the norm for her to be given the highest positions in each category that it’s quite tiring, if she were to be honest. But she has her mother to please, along with herself. She can’t let either of them down.

Sighing, she leans back into her chair. “I just wish everything would, like, stop for a moment.” She closes her eyes, as if to dream of that being possible. Unfortunately, the world goes on with or without the fantasizing. “I wish I could get a break.”

“Hey.” You pat her thigh and caress it above her short school skirt. “Cheer up. You don’t have to be so excellent all the time. You can just,” wring a hand in the air for emphasis, “you know, be okay. Average.”

“But my mom…” 

Sigh. You realize it’s easier said than done. While your parents are lenient and have gotten used to your low grades, your girlfriend’s aren’t that nice. You know that from your visits to the Kwon household. Her mother and father try to be subtle about the pressure, but there’s something in the air that passes and tenses that tells you there’s a lot more to the situation than you think. Whatever it is, it's clear that being a Kwon isn't that fun.

Sometimes you wish you could trade places with Eunbi and withstand her problems for her. You hate seeing her like this. 

“Your mom?” a menacing new voice asks. “Or would you rather say… mommy?”

Eunbi’s eyes open suddenly and enlarge. She recognizes that word, and unfortunately, she remembers using it on someone she shouldn't have been with. So do you, for which you turn your gaze upwards. 

Of course it’s Jo Yuri. She’s your mortal enemy dressed in deceiving innocent school uniform. She’s wearing a knowing smile on her face. It always means bad news, and right now, the main topic of it is you. 

What does she know? Most importantly: why did she say that? 

In your anxiety, you can’t even defend yourself or your girlfriend.

“Y-Yuri—” stammers Eunbi, the look in her eyes being one of a deer caught in headlights. She’s a terrible liar at heart, so even if she were able to finish her sentence, it would have come out oddly. Probably even add up to proof of her guilt.

Yuri smirks proudly. “I know all about your dirty little secret, Eunbi,” she says. “About what you did with professor Kim while everyone was at the Intrams… about what you called her…”

Every step she takes rounding your cluster spells trouble, and you can’t say you didn’t bring it upon yourself. However, you're still scared to death.

“Cut it,” you say. Even for a troublemaker, your voice trembles. Not a good look… er, sound, rather. “We don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Your head races with anxious thoughts and distress. How did Yuri know about that little session you had with Taeyeon? Were you guys that loud? Perhaps she had a source or spy nearby? You've no idea which one it is, and that's what scares you more than the consequences.

Eunbi's silent, refusing to speak. She looks anywhere but Yuri's eyes. Her ears are red and it's impossible to denote anything from the two of you but obvious guilt.

“Oh, is that so?” Yuri pouts mockingly. "Guess you'll have no reason to talk to principal Bae right"—she checks her watch, then smiles widely—"now."

The speaker attached to the wall of your classroom buzzes, catches the attention of everyone and says: "Will miss Kwon from 12-A and her boyfriend please come down to the principal's office?"

Okay, so maybe you are scared of the consequences just as much as you're scared of how Yuri found out.

Everyone's looking at you now. How could you feel so cold yet so hot at the same time? Everybody's eyes are burning holes in your skin, and your spine's undergone several chills that you feel numb already. 

Are you even alive? 

Your breaths are bated and Eunbi's shifting in her seat nervously. You should have seen this happening. Yuri's had a vendetta against the two of you ever since you and Eunbi got together. She's haughty, she's proud, she's rich—and for that, she's got her sources everywhere, can even manipulate official school results through pure influence. You hate yourself for being a terrible boyfriend and letting this happen to Eunbi. 

Yuri smiles as you and Eunbi rise from your seats. She waves goodbye at you coyly, and leaves everyone in the room confused. Each one of them, even the boys gaming at the back, are wondering the same thing word-for-word: what happened?

-

You don't speak while taking the stairs with her, and neither does she. You don't tell her that you're dizzy from the curving paths and she doesn't say how cold her hands are. However, you both know so, since you're both reluctant and afraid to meet the principal and didn't expect it to reach this point. It's your fault and hers, equally split, the modern day Adam and Eve. Could Yuri be the snake? Would God banish you? 

Probably, but you had it coming.

The steps you take are slow. You're afraid of what might come. But you suppose nobody's more afraid than Eunbi. She's the face of the school for the honors she's achieved. Everything can go wrong with one wrong move, and that's what this is. She put everything on the line, not expecting anything to happen, only for it to be taken all away.

Once you reach the ground floor, Eunbi suddenly grabs your wrist. Her small hand can only wrap around half of it, but her hold is tight. It carries meaning in its tightness, urging you to look at her.

"Oppa, j-just want to say…" She looks down at her school shoes in shame. "I'm sorry for pulling you into this."

You're not mad at her. You can never be. You're just… regretful. If you hadn't let lust propel your actions, maybe there wouldn't be reason for the two of you to be down here. You've been sent to the principal's office countless times, but this is the first time you're actually scared. What more when it's with Eunbi? She's never gotten in trouble before.

"Don't be," is all you say. "Let's just get it over with, okay? Together?" 

Mold your hand to fit hers, and she's smiling again, in spite of what's about to come.

You make the first move to knock. Eunbi nearly cries as she watches your knuckles meet wood. You wrap an arm around her and enter.

Long time, no see. Bae Irene's office is as grand as ever. Seems like this is where the tuition fees go: grand marble floors, a statue of a naked Greek goddess, and a fine desk that sits in the center of the room. Certificates, awards, and medals stack the shelves and walls that put even Eunbi's achievements to shame. Perhaps they're what intimidate her more than the woman standing in front of the desk.

"Good afternoon, miss Bae," you say. 

In certain angles, the principal looks just like Eunbi. Or maybe it's the other way around? The glasses don't help differentiate them. That makes you understand why people have a theory that there's a kind of narcissism in Irene that made her put Eunbi as the face of the school. 

What else can you expect from Irene, anyway? She's older, wiser, and tougher. The last one bears repeating. That by itself should be good enough justification as to why you shouldn't have fucked Taeyeon, why you shouldn't be such a troublemaker. God knows she's tired of seeing your face in here. She’d expect Eunbi would have a good influence on you, but instead, you've turned your poor girlfriend into a nymphomaniac. 

Maybe everything about this is your fault after all.

Irene knows this. "You've turned your girlfriend into one of yours, hm?" she asks. Rhetorical question or not, all three of you know the answer. "First time seeing you here, miss Kwon."

"Miss Bae," says Eunbi timidly. She's trying a diplomatic approach here—it's all she knows in navigating life. Unfortunately, it won’t work here. "We're sorry. It won't happen again."

She smiles condescendingly. "So you know why you're here."

Irene's peaceful yet scary tone is exactly the reason for her English name, derived from the goddess of peace. She looks the part, too. Her pale skin can be the marble used to carve her most holy altar, and her sharp gaze can be replicated in it. She's like an older and more intimidating counterpart of Eunbi. She's smart as well, but not afraid to show it.

"I—I’m sorry," Eunbi says, realizing she's cornered into confession. It's as if all her speaking skills have evaporated in this room. It makes her nervous; you know so because her hand’s almost deathly cold in your touch. "We'll do anything to make it right." 

Irene clicks her tongue. "It doesn't work that way, miss Kwon. You two had sexual relations with a teacher. It isn't something that can be resolved with community service."

How did she know? You think and think, and all your suspicions, though they jump from Taeyeon (she's in the wrong here, too, so why should she be suspected when she's at as much risk in getting trouble?) to Minju (why the angel, out of all people?) to anybody else, all lead to one person: 

Jo Yuri. Of course it was her. But how?

You suppose that doesn't matter now that you're in Irene's office again. What's worse is that you brought Eunbi with you, the one person you swore you wouldn't toss into all your trouble. It feels like betraying her and everything your relationship has promised.

"Look," you say, taking a step forward, "we're sorry. Really. But please just let me take the blame. Suspend me or something. Just please don't hurt professor Kim or Eunbi, miss Bae."

"How touching, Kim Taeyeon's got you head over heels for her. I wonder what made you like her that much."

"Nothing, miss Bae. It was… just a one-time thing."

"I see, so the word 'mommy' doesn’t ring a bell?"

You stiffen. So does Eunbi, suddenly losing grip of your hand and losing her balance a little. In conclusion: yea, that word rings not only a bell, but a whole fucking gong in your mind.

Of course, Irene sees through this and rolls her eyes to heaven, as if she were making fun of you telepathically to an unknown deity. "Oh, so it does, huh?" she says, lifting her hands in the air. It's obvious, really, and she should have expected it. "Of course. One woman treats you like shit during sex and you drool for her. Of-fucking-course."

Your professional principal daring to curse in front of her students catches you off guard. But you know that, despite this, she's right. There are a lot of deeply internalized issues in you and Eunbi that would have reserved the right to be connected to the fling. These issues are the reason you like Taeyeon after all, but justifying the situation using them won't help your case at all. Irene doesn't take kindly to beggars of pity.

She walks over to the two of you. You subconsciously back away. It's instinctive, and you really should have gone through with what your gut tells you when the woman continues.

"I wonder how you ended up with miss Kwon then, if that's your type." Irene approaches her lookalike and laughs a little. "This little girl can't even get on top without begging for your dick five seconds later."

"That's not true," Eunbi stutters. She tenses up when the older woman strokes her shoulders. "I, I take control all the time, miss Bae. You can't just assume…"

If whatever's going on weren't putting your life at stake, you'd let out the biggest laugh to ever be heard by man. It's just insanely untrue. Eunbi's the most passive girl you've had the blessing to be with. It's just not in her to dominate in the bedroom. Debates and civil arguments in school are all things she tops, but when it comes to you, it's just out of the question.

"Then show me," Irene says. Massaging the girl's shoulders, her smirk creates a new punishment for you to abide by. "Show me how you control your bad little boyfriend."

The anxious, whimpering Eunbi has no time to think about how fucked up this is. She grabs your shoulders and pushes you to Irene's desk. She kisses you clumsily, tearing your uniform with shaking hands. 

Her lips create a path downwards your chest. She unbuckles your belt and drops to her knees. You breathe through your teeth when her mouth works itself on your cock. Down, up, down, up, and a sweet little kiss at the tip. Perfect for you, but not for your principal, who has higher standards, apparently.

Irene smirks, shaking her head pitifully. "Darling," she says before she kneels before you, too, "you really don't know how to do this, do you?"

Eunbi shakes her head. The fact that she's ashamed is, unlike her claim earlier, not a lie.

"Ah." In a sudden affectionate and motherly act, Irene rubs the student's thigh. "You're better off being a good little girl, is that it?" 

"Mmm. Yes."

“You’d rather be your oppa’s submissive little doll? Do anything he wants?”

“Y-yes, miss Bae.”

"That won't do here. You have to pay for what you've done, or else it wouldn't be fair."

Eunbi whines. Is it in protest or pleasure? Irene's fingers have crept under her skirt and to regions they're supposed to be restricted from. The cause is probably a mix of both, but you can guess what they're doing when you see Eunbi grinding down on your principal's hidden hand. 

"How about this?" Irene offers to you. "Miss Kwon and I will take turns on you. We test out who can dominate you better, and whoever does gets to do whatever they want to the rest."

"Miss Bae—" 

Irene pulls her fingers out of Eunbi and spanks her. Your girlfriend gasps and her hips flinch. Yeah,  apparently, there's no way to back out of this. "Close the door, slut. Lock it. You, shut the blinds. I don't want to get in trouble for fucking you spoiled brats."

There's truly no resistant bone in Eunbi's body with how quickly she scampers to the door. You can't say you're any better. You and your girlfriend obey the principal's orders like you're her pets, and perhaps that's a little true. Maybe this is the beginning of something new. Something a little screwed up, yeah, but new.

Whatever this is, you hope it'll get you out of getting your life royally fucked over. You used to not give a damn if that ever happened, but when Eunbi's on your side, you become more cautious. 

(If you were in a better state of mind, you’d recognize how having sex with your principal can and will contribute to your cautiousness going to no avail, but you’ve got two gorgeous women kneeling in front of you. What else is better than this?)

"Sit down." Irene pushes you down her swivel chair. "We're gonna have fun with you first. Call this a little," she winks, "practice session."

Your heart almost stops. You're thrust down even more into the cushion, and the foreign feeling of the principal's tongue provides an aching rush of blood to your cock. Meanwhile, Eunbi attends to your heavy balls, licking and sucking at the sensitive flesh. 

Your skin is on fire. The two beautiful women smear their salivas on your erection. Their tongues collide at times, making Eunbi recoil in shock at times, but not for too long that your penis is devoid of attention. Irene doesn’t mind at all. She’s fine with the occasional dab of her tongue on Eunbi’s mouth, and coating the sheen of saliva she’s left with more. No inch is left needy—while Irene teases your base with sharp licks between smirks, the other girl sloppily makes out with your dickhead. 

"Stop. You don't want your boyfriend here to think he can do anything he wants to you.” Irene’s rough fist stiffens the mast of your erection, and although it's pleasurable, it's also painful. Her speed is too much for a start to the show. "You need to put him in his place. Do it because you want to feel good about it, not him."

"B-but…"

"I'll show you."

Eunbi departs from your crotch and Irene does… well, nowhere near leaving, that's for sure. It's like your cock was just liquid streaming down her throat with how fast she takes you in. Her mouth is small, but she swallows it all expertly. Her hands tie your thighs down to the chair.

Being in Irene's mouth is a wet dream. Literally. Her slick tongue and cheeks rub your tip. They're just appetizers for the main course: her delectable throat that's thin and tight on you. She's almost forcing you to deal with her relentless blowing, betting her career that you can't withstand it. She doesn't need innocent, Bambi eyes to make it appealing when she has that goddess-like face, yet you have to prove her wrong.

But then she wraps her soft, jutted lips around your base and elegantly slides them up with puckered suction. She's not even fucking your rod with her throat anymore and you automatically say something you shouldn't have:

"Mommy, please."

Irene stops and smiles at Eunbi. "See what I'm saying?" she says with overflowing satisfaction. "It just comes naturally to him, doesn't it? Now it's your turn. Make me proud."

The pupil obeys. When has she ever done anything but that? You aren't complaining, though; her pretty mouth ranks up in their competition. 

The two women are so different in so many different ways. Eunbi's gentle blowing, her eyes glimmering with broken innocence that always dart to your face to see if you're enjoying, is far from Irene's harsh one. She bluntly licks at your tip, sparking precum to drip into her mouth, before she slowly takes it all in. Again, widely different compared to Irene's experienced swallow, but who's keeping note? You sure aren't; you're just glad to have the best of both worlds.

"That's a good girl," Irene says. She gathers Eunbi's hair into a makeshift ponytail to help her out. "Don't be afraid to go a little crazy. If you do a good job I might just play with your cute little pussy."

Eunbi shuts her eyes and moans. Your breath is long gone with how her soft, pleasured sounds vibrate on your cock. If that weren't enough, she's lifting her head up and down with a pace that's a little quicker than before, nudging your cock deep inside her mouth. It's past that, actually; your cockhead slips down the end and bears the overwhelming feeling of her airway blocked by your girth.

"M-mmmph!"

"Aw, poor girl's choking," Irene remarks mockingly. "What's the matter, miss Kwon? Can't take it?"

Eunbi tries to surprise her by taking it all down. Unfortunately, it’s too much for her. Instead, she whimpers and chokes. 

While she gags, you moan without shame. "I'm gonna cum, baby," you announce. Your cock feels like it's going to burst with her throat spasming around it. 

Her lips tighten around your tip. It successfully manages to flow your cum directly into her mouth. Irene jacks you off to help out. The younger girl's mouth is soon flooded with the natural waterfall of your cum. It could turn into a natural disaster; Eunbi’s already struggling to save all your load. 

"Don't swallow it. Come here."

Irene forces Eunbi's face to hers and kisses her deeply. Your girlfriend's hands are frozen in the air as they share your cum. The older woman’s hand imprisons her jaw in place so she can greedily collect your cum from the passive mouth. You see the shimmer of your semen as it’s passed from one tongue to another, hear the breathy moan of your girlfriend, feel your cock become more solid.

Irene swallows whatever she's gotten and, as an end to the makeout session, licks the other girl's plump, cumstained lips. "Ah, you’re really delicious," she says. "And your girlfriend's so cute. No wonder professor Kim likes you two so much."

You’re still in shock at the sight, but the mention of your professor gets you to make another comparison with said woman. She and Irene are alike, too, but differ so much as well. They’re both violent, but at least Taeyeon has a nice streak in her; she attended to you after the violent copulation in the classroom. Irene's gentle gestures are done only to please her will. But even with those contrasting traits set in the Venn diagram, you can't choose between the two of them: the dominant principal or the quietly pretty professor? 

Irene pulls Eunbi's hair mercilessly, yanking her head backwards and exposing her beautiful neck. "It's just too bad that she's terrible at being a mommy," she murmurs. Her fingers trace the large tits threatening to burst out of the buttoned fabric. "Such a perfect body for it, but completely useless."

"Oppa, that's not true, right?" asks Eunbi, squirming. "I'm good at being your girl, aren't I?"

"Who was a better mommy, baby boy? Me or her?"

It's not even a question. As much as your heart is biased towards the girl who owns it, it's obviously—

"You, mommy."

"Oppa!" Eunbi protests. She looks genuinely hurt. It's the first time she's ever been second place in anything, and it hits her right where it's already sore.

Irene's grin is smug. It's beautiful, but actually terrifying. It's a sign that everything will only go downhill from here. "What should I do with you two now, hm?" 

"Please,” says Eunbi. Struggling to compose herself now that the principal is playing with her breasts, she fights to say anything without moaning. “Please give me one more chance, mom– miss Bae… please, I'll be good—oh, I'll be so good—"

Your principal drags Eunbi up by her hair. "Stand over there if you're so good, mommy." One swift push sends her stumbling to the edge of her desk. 

Eunbi, sniffling through her tears, awaits her next order. There's something in her face aside from the wet tears; it's a tale of how much she wants to be as good as Irene at using you that competes with her desire to please her. She's been a people-pleaser all her life, and it's hard to break its shackles, especially when Irene orders her to grind herself down the end of her desk, with one rule:

“Don’t cum until I say so.”

The panties slip off her plentiful thighs. She closes her eyes as she settles her nub over the edge of the wooden desk. Slowly, she starts to move.

"F-fuck." Eunbi places a shaking palm over her mouth.

"Exactly what your boyfriend's going to do to me," quips Irene. "See, this is how you put a man in his place." 

She tears her pencil skirt apart with no hesitation. After, she confidently sits on your lap, filling her cunt to the hilt. You tense up; her round ass on your lap is a blessing alone, but when it comes to her cunt, it’s a whole heavenly reward. Although Irene speaks and acts with nothing other than confidence, if not arrogance, her pussy is too tight for your cock to even pulse. When it barely does, her textured velvety walls cease it with a firm clench.

“Holy shit, mommy. You’re so”—between gritted teeth, you groan and rest your hands on Irene’s ant waist—“fucking tight.”

“I know,” says Irene. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

The whole situation is sinful. Watching your girlfriend having nothing to do but touch herself on the inanimate object and helplessly watch the two of you fuck is one thing, but Irene’s perfect ass on your lap is in another world. Galaxy might be more accurate. The melody of their moans causes you to struggle in keeping yourself from cumming too fast, but it’s already a challenge with Irene’s pussy fucking itself on you. She’s as tight as she looks, and probably would have been the ruinable type if she weren’t the way she is.

She leans back into your chest and caresses the side of your face with a surprisingly gentle hand. With timed movements, she lifts herself off and on your erection. Her folds splay apart to welcome you inside, into a whole, slick world. “I guess he’s all mine now, yeah?” she asks Eunbi. “He seems to like mommy better, Eunbi-ya.”

When she’s fingered and forced the girl to sexually stimulate herself on her table, there’s no need for even the polite formalities. There’s not even a chance for it to resurface when Eunbi’s already tearing up. 

“Oppa likes me, too,” she says. The jealousy brewing like a potion cauldron inside her drives her gyrations on the desk to go faster. It’s a fucked up coping mechanism for the sight in front of her. “You still like me best, don’t you, oppa?”

“Of course… fuck”—forget what you’re saying when Irene grinds her hips in circles and bounces her ass cheeks into your lap—“of course I do.”

She certainly knows her way around a dick. Her seductive rounds on your crotch and the measured riding just tell you that she’s had way more than enough experience in this realm, which, in terms of that, places her first. Eunbi’s a sore loser who doesn’t like that fact, but you can’t rig her a place anyway.

“But listen to how he’s moaning, babygirl,” Irene points out. You really don’t intend to moan again in order to avoid hurting Eunbi’s feelings, but Irene keeps a consistent squeeze of her vaginal walls on you and makes all go awry. “He loves my pussy. He loves it when I use him. I presume it’s not the same when it’s with you?”

Try to shut her up by rubbing her clit, but she only murmurs a series of “yes”’s. Besides, the damage, although fired from simple words, is already done; Eunbi’s quivering bottom lip is as clear as day.

“He loves me,” she whines. She squeezes the table tighter, as if the vicinity of the wood can help magick up a proper way to get her to become the mommy she just isn’t. “Hnn. He, he likes me because I’m a good girl.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Irene says, her sarcastically rolled eyes unimpressed. “You’re young. You should know being good is outdated. If he likes it, then he shouldn’t be fucking me right now.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” you say. You stop thrusting upwards into Irene, but she keeps bouncing. The stimulation remains constant. 

You really can’t find your way out of this. Irene’s weight, though light, keeps you on the chair and void of anything to do to break it all up. Your legs already feel weak at her pace. It’s as if she’s completely unaware of how tight and wet she is and therefore subjects you to it, thinking that you can handle it. But of course, she’s an intelligent, self-aware woman—she knows her effect on you, and she isn’t hesitant to exploit it.

Eunbi sobs as she grinds down the edge of the table harder. She can’t take watching you and Irene fuck anymore. "Mommy, please.”

"’Mommy’? Not putting up a fight anymore, are you, pretty little girl?" Irene asks. She pouts mockingly. "Gonna give up?"

Eunbi shakes her head. "No…"

"Alright, if you aren’t, use me. Use your boyfriend. We’ll see what happens."

Your girlfriend bursts into tears. It’s no mere tear sliding down her cheek anymore. It’s a whole fiasco of whiny crying and childish protests. Of course, it’s not in her to fight Irene. She’s remained a diplomatic civil debater, not a physical one. At times she doesn’t even counter an argument, similar to now, when she weakly replies, "B-but I don’t know how.”

“Come on. You’re smart, aren’t you? You can win over me.”

“Mmm, please just let me cum, mommy. Please."

"Do it. I dare you."

"Mommy—"

"Do it."

"I—I can't!" Eunbi says this in a tone that’s nearly a scream as she struggles to keep herself standing. "Please don't take him away from me, I'm a good girl, I swear, I swear!"

“Oh, look at her, baby.” Irene strengthens the force of her riding. It draws you nearer to an orgasm. “She wants you so bad. She wants to be your mommy so bad.”

Eunbi’s explicit moans and Irene’s soft gasps contribute equally with the silken pussy in draining you. You fill Irene up to the brim. As she stands, white drips down her naked legs.

“You want to be a mommy so bad?” 

Irene slips her fingers inside herself, scooping out white liquid, then walks over to the quaking valedictorian. Under the guise of the skirt, she sticks the cum-stained fingers into the needy little hole.

“Then fucking be one.”

“Mommy!” 

Eunbi screams when Irene stuffs her cunt and fingers her violently. Her legs close together, and suddenly she’s creaming all over the fingers moving unabashedly inside her. Wetness is wrung out repeatedly, and strings of arousal connect and disconnect between the joined fingers.

“Mommy, miss Bae, hnnn…” mumbles Eunbi, mind fogged with pleasure, “mommy—”

“Shhh, that’s a girl, miss Kwon,” Irene says as she offers the nectar-coated fingers to the girl’s mouth. Eunbi gladly accepts. 

To your surprise, Irene seems gentle this time. She pats your girlfriend’s back firmly, even wiping the drool on her lips. Maybe it’s the satisfaction of making both a girl and a boy orgasm. That’s all you can guess.

“You haven’t fucked me like you did mommy,” Eunbi protests. “I want you, too, please?”

“You heard the girl,” Irene says. She’s all for another go. She seems to be the only one not tired between the three of you. Her arrogant smile has not once lost its shine. “She wants to be fucked. Or do you not like her little pussy the same way you love mine?”

That triggers Eunbi to look up with tearful eyes. “Oppa, do you…?”

“Of course not. You can have me all you like.”

“Darlings,” pipes in Irene, “you seem to be forgetting someone here. That isn’t part of the deal.”

Of course. You’re still under the invisible contract she set. As the obvious winner of the battle of wills and domination, she gets to have the nicer end of the deal: to do anything she wants with the two of you. Whatever happens here has to involve her. No one’s going to be left out here.

How should it go?

“I want that mouth on my pussy, miss Kwon,” decides Irene, sitting on her throne (AKA as the swivel chair.) “And I want you to fuck her. Really fuck her. I want to see her break.”

So that’s how it goes, since Eunbi’s too kind to propose another way. She crawls between Irene’s legs, greedily eating the cum out of her, while you pound her from behind. 

Eunbi’s wide hips are just irresistible. They fit right into your hands and serve as anchors to pull you in and out of her. The skirt, instead of infuriating you with how much it blocks your view of her ass and grippy pussy, drives you more insane.

And when you look up, there’s Irene, with her legs spread wide for Eunbi to stay. It’s nice of the deities to create a world where there are so many beautiful women, and for two to be right by your side currently. Maybe you gotta thank the Greek statue that’s privy to the whole thing—you’re pretty sure she’s part of the whole god gang. Whatever. 

Irene’s hands aren’t sedentary. They tug onto the wavy hair for its owner to tongue her core more. The pussy-eating thing is an act of jealousy from Eunbi, really—part of the reason she agreed to eat her out is so she can drink your cum straight from where you deposited it. Safe to say it’s a win-win situation.

“Fuck, you’ve got a good mouth, miss Kwon,” says Irene. She bites her lip, and hisses. “Just like that.”

Even with all she’s done to her, Eunbi mewls in appreciation. Or maybe it’s your cock causing that. Yeah, definitely your cock. You make it a purpose to stretch her out and keep her pretty cunt stuffed. Gently stimulate her bundle of nerves for her skirted ass to reverse back into your crotch.

“Oppa—” Eunbi says, her voice reaching another high pitch due to the pleasure.

“I didn’t say you could stop,” Irene sharply reminds her. “Don’t stop or he won’t fuck you anymore.”

Eunbi gets back to work, moaning after you penetrate her again. You may have fucked Irene, but she still remains in control here. She just solidifies her place in the little contest she and Eunbi had. Your girlfriend, ever the grumpy loser, vents her frustration in eating her principal out, evoking broken gasps from her.

“Aw, don’t be too jealous, Eun,” you say to Eunbi. Her tight pussy is an everyday heaven you, a sinner, are given a free pass to relish in. “You’re still my good girl.”

You can feel her cunt tighten at your words. Eunbi closes her eyes and whimpers while she sucks on Irene’s clit. Her nose presses against the older woman’s flat stomach. 

“She really likes being called that, huh?” chuckles Irene, ruffling Eunbi’s hair. 

“She does.” Thrust into her particularly hard. “She’s a sweet girl.”

Eunbi’s body trembles. Unable to deal with the flood of praises, she tonguefucks Irene’s hole harshly, suppressing her heavy breaths in the pink flesh. 

“Is that what you want to be, miss Kwon?” Irene allows Eunbi to take a breather and lifts her chin up, but renders her breathless anyway with the next set of words. “Mommy and daddy’s sweet little girl?”

The girl’s walls twitch around you, and you hear her whine again. She’s always like that, the poor thing, but now, it’s urgent—it goes on, prolonged with need and desire, that you have to pull her into your lap, cock still lodged inside her, and say: “Use your words, baby.”

She’s a little taken aback, but she’s nodding. Breathing through her mouth in shaky little exhales, Eunbi nods. “Y-yes, please,” she says, as if in a trance. “Mommy. Daddy.”

You and Irene don’t get along too well due to your history of troubles, but you immediately understand each other when you gaze into each other’s eyes. You don’t say a word, but there’s no need for any when her lips are already on Eunbi’s. 

It’s a quick change of positions. You bring her over to the desk again. This time, she’s not merely here to watch, but to indulge in the pleasure of having the two of you at the same time. Buttons fly in the air as Irene rips the school blouse apart. She bares the bouncing tits of any bra then immediately goes to worshiping them. Eunbi’s nipple ends up in her mouth and hardens at the suckles. It was as if she were determined to draw out milk from them. 

“Look at you,” she says. Irene admires the round, full bosom before her, tracing a hand along the flesh. “Walking around with a body like this shouldn’t be allowed.”

“Mommy,” says Eunbi. She shivers when you fill her up. “Daddy, please. I’m yours.”

“Oh, you are.” Irene plays with the perfect collarbone for a while before edging her hand up to her throat. There, she squeezes tight. “Trust me.”

You squeeze Eunbi’s breasts and kiss them. You don’t think there would ever be a time you wouldn’t appreciate her beautiful tits. Irene seems to have discovered their beauty, too, for the two of you start to worship them. Irene takes left, you go right. Each one provides more than a supple amount of softness that with each bite, squeeze and suck makes Eunbi clamp down on your cock more. 

“Baby boy,” Irene whispers. She’s never looked this motherly, yet so seductive. “Remember when I said I wanted you to break her? I still expect you to do it.”

“I’d want nothing more,” you reply.

“Daddy, mommy, w-what are you going to do to me?”

“Bend over, miss Kwon,” instructs Irene, “we’re going to give you what you want.”

Eunbi happily does, and thanks her by slipping her fingers inside her. They immediately set a quick pace to keep her on her toes. 

“God, fuck her,” Irene says. “She’s earned it.”

Your girlfriend’s never been so glad to hear something from the principal. The praise earlier is a close competitor, but when these words are the cause of your cock to begin thrusting again, she still prefers these. 

“Fuck, daddy!”

You match the pace of her fingers in Irene’s pussy. You choose to go brutally, putting her out of her long misery by filling her over and over again. 

“Daddy, daddy, daddy, please!” Her eyes are shut, and her body is still except for the movements driven by your thrusts, but her fingers still fuck Irene’s waiting pussy. She’s a true multi-tasker, this girl. 

How many times has she begged like this today? You don’t know, but it’s the first time that she’s calling you the name. It surprises even yourself that it turns you on. It drives a forbidden feeling deep in your chest that’s exactly what fuels your thrusts. 

She’s finally fulfilled after being kept at the side for practically the whole time, so her screams are also of relief. She squirts so goddamned easily that each thrust is slick and messy. Her folds spare not a second of releasing your cock. No, it holds on, and it’s all too messy. Sinful. Incredibly immoral. 

“That’s it, take my cock, Eunbi,” you groan. The words just come naturally to you, because when she’s absolutely writhing underneath you and her pussy is that tight, you become a philosopher with a way with words. You can write several doctrines about how fucking ruinable she is, how her body’s just fit for your cock, how her thin whines are strung out so deliciously that you could never think of stopping. 

After everything that’s happened, she’s still your girl. She’s still the one you want to take to bed. She’s just that good.

“Daddy, mommy, fuck—me!” she screams. Eunbi’s tears come flowing back. They pour down her pretty face and onto the desk. If there was paperwork getting done on this desk, they’re replaced by Eunbi.

You think she’s gone crazy. Her voice is strained and her fingers almost painfully shove themselves in Irene, like they’re machine-controlled. All different sounds are extracted from her sore throat: moans, screams, and gasps—you think you’ve broken her.

You guess that’s enough payment for Irene.

Irene’s groans and cries are loud; her legs squeeze around Eunbi’s wrist. “D-don’t fucking stop,” she warns. You sense that there’d be more than what punishment is if the girl dares to halt. Eunbi knows better than to, anyway. She continues fingering Irene, exploring the cave of her tight hole and pressing down on her G-spot. 

Eunbi closes her eyes as Irene’s cum sprays her. Now she really looks ruined. She’s already covered in her tears and drool. You guess that soon, she’d be covered in you.

You slip out to flick your cock against her clit. 

“Ahhh, daddy!”

“That’s right. Cum for daddy, baby.”

“Y-yes, yes, yes, fuck, daddy! Keep rubbing my clit like that, it feels so good… it feels so warm, please don’t stop!”

“Cum for me.”

“Daddy!” wails Eunbi. 

Everything is a mess of moans and squirting. Eunbi screams in pleasure, shaking as her folds remain determined to swallow every inch of your cock even after her orgasm, and Irene’s to your left riding her digits, crying out as if she were in a war. And you guess that yea, maybe it is a war—a war of good and evil, a war of the overachievers (that brings a chuckle out of you), a war of sex. 

But in the end, in a feat that no one’s ever seen, everybody wins.

-

Dear Ms. Jo,

This is regarding your recent concern about Ms. Kwon Eunbi. 

I find that the evidence you provided to me is altered and has been tampered with. After further questioning with teachers and staff, I can conclude that your concern is dismissed and shall only subject you to disciplinary action.

It is strictly prohibited to spread harmful falsehood about your fellow schoolmates. Please see me after class tomorrow.

Sincerely,

Principal Bae Irene/Joohyun

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

hello! a little fic request I’ve been thinking on, not pressuring you to write it or anything, just wanted to share.

the y/n is a hot tempered foreign princess who got married to Baldwin when they were both children. she’s very energetic, straightforward, man-like in her character, but has to adapt to fit in the court of Jerusalem and also to „suit” her husband’s calm manner and the fact that he’s ill doesn’t help.

she’s unhappy about it; maybe even tears a little during the wedding, but doesn’t let anyone to think she may be vulnerable (mostly because she understand that that can be used against her in the future after Baldwin dies). but over the time she finds herself drawn to Baldwin because, well, unlike her teachers, he lets her study and play chess with him. he cares about her desires and interests. he also respects her, not just like a woman but as a friend, and a clever one. maybe some of her advice on the politics is used by him at some point (which would be absolutely unrealistic, but really, we’re talking historical romance with a leper king here…). a cute detail would be him gifting her a weapon of some sort to protect herself because he knows how she doesn’t like being treated like she’s helpless. bonus points if he says something romantic and or pathos’y about it.

did I write this whole oc story as a multiple chapter fanfiction in my head? yes, I did. am I going to finish it? absolutely no. but I’d love to read your interpretation!

♧ "Princess" - King Baldwin x Reader ♧

♧ Angst ♧

A/N: Hello Anon! So sorry for taking so long to write this, ive had so many requests. I'm not sure if this is what you had in mind but it was my interpretation and I hope you like it! I dont really like how it turned out as your request had so much detail and my writing does that no justice, but I hope its okay ☺️! As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figgures. This is also set pre-film. Enjoy!

TW: Leprosy

At thirteen years old, marriage was the last thing on young y/n’s mind. But yet, here she was. Soon to arrive in the city of Jerusalem, to be wed to a boy she had only ever met a handful of times.

Baldwin the fourth. The leper, who's mother just so happend to be ready to find him a wife at the same time her father was ready to find her a husband.

She sat in silence for the entire journey, this was uncommon for her. She usually always had something interesting to say or something to observe with curiosity. But as per request by her father, from now on she “had to act like a proper lady. No more of this ridiculous 'masculine' behavior”.

“You will be wed to a king y/n” he had told her. “You must stop acting the way you do. No king will be allowed such behavior from his wife”. 

Her attempt to keep to herself for the journey had been successful so far. She remained silent and still. Just as her mother taught her. “Just how a lady should be”. 

As the city came into view, y/n felt tears begin to burn her eyes. She would never again be allowed to explore the wilderness on her fathers land, or read every book she was allowed to have from the library. She surrendered herself to a life of boredom and suppression. 

Once exiting the carriage, she was greeted by the royal officials as well as the king's mother.

“I am so pleased to finally meet you young lady" she greeted her with a smile "you shall make a fine wife for my son” . Y/n thanked her and was ushered off quickly to prepare her for the hour of the wedding.

Y/n held back tears as servants worked busily around the room. Dressing her in beautiful garments, jewelry, and makeup. She was distraught. But she dare not cry. They could not see her so weak.

----------------------

The events proceeded and y/n barely even looked at the boy she was marrying. She could not bring herself to make eye contact with the man who would rule her life forever.

They told her to smile. “No man wants to see a lady disappointed on her wedding day” the king's mother had told her before they entered the church.

Baldwin himself was nervous about this day but just enthusiastic. Unlike y/n, he was looking forward to being wed to a young woman. He did not want just a wife to serve him, but a companion too. Someone who he could speak to about all kinds of things. Someone who would love him as much as he loved them. When he saw her, she looked beautiful, but sad. Very sad.

He hoped she was not sad about marrying him. Perhaps his illness deterred her from wanting to even be near him.

But she was still beautiful. She was 14, just like him. He could not take his eyes off her. He had met her a few times before, and she interested him deeply, even though they barely spoke. He more so just watched her play and talk with the other young people from his bedroom chamber window, longing to join them if it was not for his illness.

She played more with the young boys than she did with the girls. Always full of energy and life, always talking and laughing. But now, she looked different. As if the light had been drained from her. 

--------------------

When the wedding was over, the young king and queen got acquainted in the boy's chambers. She still seemed very quiet and unsure about his presence.

“Are you alright?” He asked her the second they were alone. “Yes your highness” she replied in a small voice, very different to the excitable tone she used to have. She sighed and lowered herself onto the small couch, turning away from him to look at her hands.

Baldwin thought for a moment, but then remembered that his mother requested he chose a wedding gift to present her after the affairs.

“I have a gift for you,” he said happily, lightening the mood.

He noticed her eyes light up a little at the comment. “You do?”

“Yes, would you like to see it?”

Y/n nodded excitedly, a smile forming on her face for the first time all day. The boy stood and disappeared behind the red, satin curtains that covered the large windows. He returned a few seconds later with something behind his back and a wide smile.

"I had to hide it, so my mother did not see what I chose for you" he explained. This peeked y/n's intrest greatly.

“Alright, close your eyes, '' he told her, the smile still plastered to his face. Y/n shut her eyes with anticipation. When he told her to open her eyes, she was lost for words. In the young king's bandaged hands, he held a shining silver sword with a pale pink ribbon tied around the handle.

Her eyes widened and stared at the sword for a long time before taking it in her hands to admire it. “Do you like it?” he asked, cautiously, hoping he had not offended her.

“Baldwin.. I love it!!” she exclaimed with a grin, jumping to her feet and wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight hug. The smile returned to his face and he put his arms around her waist.

“Now you can defend yourself my love. No wife of mine will be left vulnerable, even if there are men to protect her. She will defend herself, because she is strong.” His words filled the queen with happiness and hope. Perhaps her father was wrong after all and she could remain as herself. At least in the presence of her husband. 

-------------------

From that day on, they were inseparable. Unlike y/n’s tutors and parents, he allowed her access to his entire private library so they could study and read together. He allowed her time to herself, so she could do the things she loved without anybody telling her how to behave.

He quite often went as far as to seek her out for advice on political issues, not allowing her straightforward intelligence to go to waste.

Overtime, y/n became used to her duties as queen, but as much as she learnt to fit the role, she treasured her time alone with Baldwin. He cared about her interests, her desires. He respected her, more than anyone else ever had. They played chess together as well, each game being a delightful battle of the mind.

He saw her as not just a wife, but as a companion and an intelligent one at that. And for this, she would be forever greatful.

[rindragon-from-twewy]

Mmmm forte swap au brain rot upon ye!

I've already completed designs for everyone at the NDA but I wanna space out the posts a bit cuz I don't think I'd be able to say all I'd want to in just one post!

Ramble about character info below; (+spoilers for all of mdarc)

Obviously this is based on my silly doodles for rain code ship week but I've actually started putting a lot of thought in to this now! (I've had waaaaaaay too much free time recently and I'm blessed with the ability to come up with lore/world building very quickly given enough motivation!)

So first off: Why Storm Cypher? Well cuz it's a protagonist swap! Desuhiko's now the amnesiac trainee being haunted by Shinigami so it made sense in my opinion to make this au's name reflectant of his last name, Thunderbolt. So that's where the 'Storm' comes from. 'Cypher' because it's a form of code and... well I just think it sounds nice basically! I do what I do for my own enjoyment, I don't always need to have a reason - no matter what my teachers say.

Also I decided to change some (Not all) character's last name's to better reflect their newly assigned fortes.

Anyway- It's character info dumping time!!!

Desuhiko, like og Yuma, has absolutely no memory of his past. While his personality remains fairly intact, he boards the Amaterasu Express hoping to figure out who he is along the way. While nobody there knows who he is, he instead finds he have a knack for word-play, puns and pick up lines, leading to accusations of secretly being a circus clown as opposed to a detective. This attitude is only solidified more upon meeting Shinigami, the death god with just as many innuendos to make as he does. They get along almost dangerously well, even more so when he learns she has a humanoid form. After completing the first mystery labyrinth, he decides that being a detective HAS to be his true calling, since solving the case was pretty fun all things considered, and receives his hoodie from The Chief to help keep him dry once arriving in Kanai Ward.

Yuma on the other hand, takes the place of co-star of chapter 2. At first he comes off as cool and charismatic but he breaks down almost immediately at the slightest hint of conflict. He's been a very famous musician for years prior to becoming a master detective, though he finds it hard to fully express himself through anything other then his appearance and music. The anxiety induced from an excess of fans, attention, and not knowing who to trust anymore thanks to his own popularity, he was ecstatic to be scouted by the WDO for his talents in disguises. Once it blossomed into a fully fledged forte and he was allowed to work as a detective properly though... they started regretting hiring him. Chaotic, anti-authoritatian and impossible to track down, he's more of a vigilante then a real detective. He was selected to go to Kanai Ward due to it's predicted high mortality rate, the higher ups hoping to dispose of the troublemaker without being too obvious about it. What does APAB mean you ask? All Peacekeepers Are Bastards!!! The Chief wasn't very happy to see him wearing it but permanent marker is permanent.

I haven't decided if I'll change Shinigami's humanoid design yet. If I do though, it'll probably just be more remenicent of her beta design. I haven't decided if I'll swap the Amaterasu Express detectives either though but... maybe I will. Since its forte swap though, the peacekeepers will all remain the same.

I'm hoping to write a fanfic for this, as opposed to like... a comic. But I'm partial to the idea of maybe doing an ask blog as well? I don't know yet. Either way, I'll probably post more for this tomorrow! <3

[burntheedges-updates]

over again, chapter 2

This is my updates-only blog! Follow me at @burntheedges

Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: you fell in love with Joel Miller in Austin, Texas, in 2001, but you thought you lost him and your whole family in 2003 when the world turned upside down. now it's 2024, and you find the surprise of your life waiting for you in Jackson, Wyoming. or, five times you and Joel fell deeper in love, on both sides of the apocalypse (and one time you did something about it)18+ minors DNI chapter tags/warnings: fluff, light flirting, touching hands, hugs, cold/illness, light angst, a teensy bit of pining, teacher!reader (no specific details given in fic, it’s just your job from Before) a/n: This is Chapter 2: Breaking the Ice. I’ve done my best with the overall TLOU (show) timeline, but I can’t find a timeline that has the specific dates/months that Joel and Ellie passed through Jackson and returned. For the purposes of this fic they pass through in late November, 2023, and come back in April, 2024 (ish). Enjoy. :) word count: 7.4k

series main post | series playlist | ao3 | chapter 1 || chapter 3

Chapter 2: Breaking the Ice

Jackson, Spring 2024

You’ve been in Jackson almost four months when Joel and Ellie return. You have a couple of friends, but it hasn’t really been long enough to establish yourself in the community. You’re a bit of a loner. You mostly talk to Tommy, Maria, and some of the others who work the same jobs you do. Tommy vouched for you, which seems to have given you a real in with some of the people here, but you have to put in the work.

You’re still floating, still trying to settle, and not at all ready to return to teaching. You know Tommy told Maria about what you did Before but neither of them have bugged you about it. The idea of walking into a classroom fills you with both longing and dread and for now you’re still avoiding it completely. You and Tommy have both been surprised at how much you like working outdoors – you were truly an indoors-only person Before. The first time he caught you standing in a pile of horse manure three months ago he doubled over laughing and almost fell in it himself. You’re still getting used to being around someone who knows you so well.

Maria is slowly warming up to you, but she’s been a little distant since she realized stories about what Joel (and Tommy, not that she seems to mind that part) has been up to in the last 20 years don’t seem to phase you. You aren’t good enough friends yet to tell her the things you’ve done, the things you regret and the things you don’t. It’s not like you’ve been an angel yourself. You’re not surprised to learn that Joel did whatever it took to protect people, to survive and save his last remaining family member. You can imagine who he became when he thought you were dead along with Sarah. It’s the same thing that happened to you, after all. The same transformation.

After that first meeting at the gates (when you barely said anything at all to each other before Tommy swept all three of you away, ignoring Ellie’s obvious curiosity and her elbow to Joel’s side as you stared at each other in the road, unmoving) you don’t get a chance to really talk with Joel for a couple of days. You get it – you know Joel, the Dad. He’s settling Ellie in and your heart clenches because you can remember what he was like with Sarah. You haven’t thought about Sarah this much in years. 

(That’s a lie – you think about her every single day. But not like this, with two people nearby who knew her, too. It’s different somehow and it’s making you feel things you thought you’d forgotten how to feel. It’s probably best for you to get over that feeling, that hurt, that initial reaction at a distance. You don’t want it to touch Ellie. She doesn’t know you.)

So Joel and Ellie move back into their house, which happens to be next door to yours because Tommy Miller will stop meddling when he’s dead. You don’t talk to Ellie that first day, but you and Joel make eye contact as he stands on his front porch and you stand in the road where Tommy just left you. His eyes are soft and dark and so familiar (and longed for) that it hurts. He takes a hesitant step towards you and speaks his first real words to you in 20 years. The sound of his voice still sends shivers down your spine.

“Can we– I can’t today, I’m sorry, I have to– Ellie–“

“I know, Joel,” you interrupt. “She needs to settle in, and she doesn’t know who I am. Take care of that first.” When you say his name you see it hit him and pin him in place. It was the same for you back at the gate. You drift a little closer to their porch steps.

“I’ve had a little bit longer to sit with the idea that– that you’re still alive. I’ve been here a few months. I’m not going anywhere, ok? We can talk later. Maybe in a couple of days?”

As you talk he’s searching your face and you feel yourself doing the same. Looking for the person you knew Before. At your offer, he looks relieved. 

“Yeah, darlin’. In a couple of days.” 

You can’t hide your reaction to the endearment or the feeling that washes over you, once-familiar and almost frightening as it echoes from Before. You think he might have surprised himself with it, too. When’s the last time he called anyone that? Maybe the last time you heard it. For a moment you just stare at each other.

It takes Ellie poking her head out the door to jumpstart you both back into action.

Joel heads inside and you head home, but you can hear her start to grill him about you as they close the door. (Who the hell is that?) It makes you smile.

…

You spend that night staring at the ceiling of your bedroom, completely unable to sleep. Joel is here, alive, probably 50 feet away from you and just knowing that keeps you awake. The following day you move from your house to work and back again in a daze, avoiding the dining hall, trying not to stare at their house or worry that Joel is avoiding you when you don’t see them. By the next morning, two mostly sleepless nights since Joel and Ellie walked through the gates of Jackson, you’re exhausted. You get dressed and find yourself standing in your front hallway, talking yourself down from going to lean on Tommy for some information. It’s only been two days, like 36 hours, get a fucking grip.

It’s convenient, then, that you’re so close to the door when someone unexpectedly knocks on it. As you open it, your heart leaps into your throat. 

Joel Miller is on your porch. He looks flustered and worried. You can tell he’s been running his hands through his hair – it’s messy and going every which way, just like it used to whenever he was anxious about something. The only difference now is the brown is shot through with gray. 

“Joel? Is everything alright?” As soon as the question leaves your mouth you feel a bit of deja vu, but you have no time to analyze the feeling before he steps towards you and you lose track of the thought at his proximity. You step back to let him in.

“I’m sorry, darlin’, I know we need to talk, but Ellie’s come down with something when we got back. I’ve been taking care of her. I didn’t want you to think I’ve been avoiding you.”

He’s twisting his hands together in front of him as he speaks and you notice one is shaking. You almost reach out to rest your hands on top of his to soothe him, but you stop yourself. You’re not ready to touch him like that and you doubt he’s ready to be touched. You clench your hands into fists and hide them behind your back instead. 

“Oh no, is she alright? Do you need anything?” 

You realize as you offer that you don’t know what help you, an outsider, could provide — everything is different than it was Before, when you would have been in the same house helping with the sick child from the start. You haven’t even really been around kids in years. It’s a weird feeling and you’re not sure what to do with it.

Joel shakes his head. “No, we’re fine, Tommy brought some things by yesterday and this morning, she’s already on the upswing.” He crosses his arms and sighs, looking down at the ground between you unhappily. “But I need to go talk to Maria and some others, and Tommy needs to be there with me, and, well. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind sitting with her for a bit?” 

He looks up at you from under his eyelashes, a hesitant look on his face. “Or, um, sitting in the house, just in case she needs something. She’s in bed, you could stay on the couch. I know you don’t know each other yet but I wouldn’t ask anyone else here to do this.” 

It doesn’t escape you that he said yet, that he implied you will get to know Ellie. It wakes something in you, something painful and raw and long-dormant, something you haven’t felt in 20 years. You have the sudden urge to run and hide and you twist your fingers behind your back, willing your feet to stay right where they are. It’s different somehow from the wave of emotion you felt a few months ago, sitting on the ground, tangled in your sleeping bag, shocked at the news that this man was still alive. It’s a feeling you’ve been running from since you realized Sarah must be dead. 

But you’ve basically never said no to this man, not about anything important. You aren’t going to start now.

“Of course, Joel. I’ll follow you over.” That feeling of deja vu is back, and you wonder if he isn’t feeling it too, as he tilts his head at you with a contemplative look on his face. He nods and thanks you and turns to go.

You suddenly realize you’ve been reading his expressions and mannerisms this whole time and you don’t seem to have lost your fluency with it. You wonder if he can still read you just as well, and if he can, what he’s seeing. You’re not sure, yourself. You can’t imagine what you’re giving away.

You shut the door behind him and take a moment, forehead resetting against the wood, to just breathe.

…

When you arrive at the house next door, Joel calls for you to come in from somewhere upstairs and you take a moment to look around. They haven’t even been there two days and they already have some belongings visible in the living room. The kitchen is in a bit of disarray, the way it normally gets when a kid is sick. That feeling that almost sent you running hits again, like an echo. You close your eyes against the memories of Sarah and you miss Joel reappearing at the top of the stairs until he calls your name softly. 

He’s stopped halfway down the stairs and beckons for you to follow him back up. You do and he leads you down the hall to what is clearly Ellie’s room – he goes straight in and sits beside her on the bed as you linger in the doorway.

“Ellie, this is—“ 

“I know who she is, Joel, you already told me,” she interrupts, rolling her eyes and then coughing a bit. The look of disdain she gives him is so classic teenager it takes your breath away. It’s so easy to recall Sarah doing the same thing. You can picture the same look on her face. 

You breathe slowly through it and hope your reaction doesn’t show. You smile, weakly. Ellie is stone faced in response, and she glances at Joel, looking to him to take the lead. He’s looking at you. You gather yourself. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Ellie, I’m sorry you’re feeling shitty.” She looks a little amused at your description but she doesn’t laugh. She’s clearly wary of you, which is fair. “I’m just going to be downstairs on the couch, call if you need anything, ok?”

With that you turn and head back downstairs, and you can see the relief in her expression as you do. You’re also relieved. She’s not comfortable around strangers, and for you the role of babysitter is sitting uncomfortably on your shoulders like an old coat that you outgrew and haven’t touched in years. You imagine it’s worse for her when she’s not feeling great. 

You hear their low voices for a few minutes and then Joel reappears on the stairs, brow furrowed.

“Are you sure she’s ok with this? I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.” You have to ask.

He looks at you and his brow relaxes, softening a bit. “It’s fine. She’s done nothing but sleep and grill me about you for the last two days, coughing the whole time. She’s just not so great with strangers. I think her curiosity’ll take over, she always wants to know everything. Besides, she’ll probably fall asleep.” You nod as he moves past you towards the door. To your surprise, he reaches out to touch your arm, so softly and briefly you wonder if he even makes contact or if you’re imagining it. You shiver, resisting the urge to hug your arms across your chest. You know it would look like a rejection. “It should only be a couple of hours.”

“We’ll be fine, Joel.” Through the open front door you see Tommy waiting for him outside, and he nods and winks at you before he and Joel make their way towards the center of town. You roll your eyes in response.

…

You spend the first fifteen minutes after they leave sitting on the couch, staring at the ceiling, thoughts racing. Something about this feels so much like Before it’s making you anxious, but you’re exhausted and you’ve spent 20 years burying or shying away from those memories. You can’t immediately recall why. When it gets to be too much you stand and head into the kitchen, looking for something to do with your hands. Thankfully there’s a pile of dishes waiting for you.

You’re almost done with the dishes, successfully avoiding thinking too hard about Before – or now, or anything at all – when you hear something and turn off the water to listen more closely. You hear your name called softly from upstairs and immediately dry your hands to go see what Ellie needs. 

When you arrive in her doorway she’s sitting up and fidgeting. 

“Hey, what do you need?” You put what is hopefully a neutral and helpful look on your face. You haven’t dealt with a teenager in decades but you remember well how they see through pretense. Sarah never turned down a chance to call any of you on your bullshit. 

She eyes you for a moment, glancing back at her lap where she’s gripping the blanket tightly, before saying, “Can I– Can I ask you some questions? About Before.”

Your eyes widen a little, you can’t help it, but you don’t want to shut her down. Before she can take your expression, whatever it is, as a rejection you say yes and move a little further into the room. She tenses.

“Sorry, I’ll stay over here. Can I get a chair?” She regards you silently for a moment, and then points to the corner to your right where you haven’t looked yet. There’s a chair with a jacket slung over the back. You nod and take a seat. 

“Ask away.”

She’s quiet for a moment, looking like she’s thinking. “So you were going to get married, Before. Right?”

You nod. “Right. Joel proposed in 2002, in December. He meant to do it on New Year’s Eve but he couldn’t wait and proposed early.” Ellie snorts, and then coughs a little bit. You keep yourself from moving towards her to hand her the glass of water on her nightstand. She doesn’t know you. And she’s a teenager, not a little kid. She’s older than Sarah. Don’t think about it.

“That sounds… romantic?” Her tone says that the idea of Joel doing something romantic is so outlandish as to be impossible.

You smile, a little bit sadly. “I know I’m different now, so I imagine he is, too. But he was always a huge romantic. We knew each other for a while before we actually got together, but once we were dating, it was like he couldn’t help it.” You’re suddenly glad you’ve had three months to think about him being alive. This conversation would have felt impossible when you first arrived in Jackson. Now it’s possible, just difficult.

“What, did he like, give you flowers?” The look on her face says she considers this unbelievable and slightly offensive, which reminds you so strongly of 13-year old Sarah you have to take a deep breath. You look away to make it seem like you need to think.

“No, well, he did a few times. But it was other things.”

“Like what?”

“He… well, he took me dancing. For our first date, and then pretty often afterwards.”

“Dancing?” She’s incredulous. “No way, I refuse to believe that old man can dance.” 

You can’t help but grin. “Yeah, dancing. That old man has moves.”

She scoffs and asks what else, clearly moving on from the dancing. For now, you assume.

“Well, we were both bad at remembering dates, but he never let an important date pass without doing something special anyway. He used to do little things for me before I even noticed they needed to be done, especially around the house. He never held back from telling me how he felt. He made it clear how important I was to him, and how much he liked having me in his life, by making space for me in it. I don’t know how much you want to hear about it, but … yeah, the man’s a romantic. No question.” You pause, and smile a little wryly. “Tommy can back me up, and his version’ll probably be way funnier. At our expense.” You feel something inside you start to thaw as you let yourself remember Joel this way.

Ellie looks like she's trying to hide a smile, which you count as a win. Then her expression shifts, and something makes you a little wary with how she sets her shoulders, readying herself to ask another question. 

“D'you want to get back together?” The look on her face says she isn’t sure that’s what she wants. Not at all.

You suddenly feel like you’re on a tightrope. You’re out of breath even though you haven’t moved an inch. You know you have to give the right answer here. But you aren’t even sure what it is for yourself, let alone for Ellie. Before you saw Joel at the gates you’d decided you wouldn’t let this second chance pass you by, but what does that actually mean, practically? For the people you are now?

“Ok, that’s a tough question, and no, I’m not blowing you off. I’m just going to be honest, ok?” You look down, lacing your hands together in your lap. 

“Joel and I were so in love, like head over heels for each other, 20 years ago. We both thought the other person died, and our kid did die. I’m… in shock right now. I think he is, too. I found out he was alive a few months ago, he found out I’m alive two days ago. Nothing feels straightforward or clear." You squeeze your hands together and clear your throat.

“I think we knew each other well enough to know what our lives might have been like in between, what we might have done. Or had to do. Maybe we imagined it sometimes. Um.” You pause to take a deep breath and glance up. Ellie is looking down at her hands. You can’t tell how this is going over with her but you keep going anyway.

“To answer your question… I never stopped loving him. He’s the love of my life. But I can’t say for sure what we’ll do until we talk, which we will at some point. It’s– it’s been too long to assume anything. To think everything is the same.” Your hands are shaking. You think you might be rambling, so you pause to get back on track.

“But that’s not the most important thing right now. You need to get better and you both need to settle in, you know? That’s his focus. As it should be. And I know he’ll talk to you about it. Whatever happens. I’m sorry I don’t have a– a clear answer.”

Your heart is beating fast as you finish. You can feel it in your throat.

Ellie is frowning as she meets your eyes again. She looks lost, her voice almost a whisper as she says, “I don’t… he has Tommy. And now you.” This admission clearly costs her, and she crosses her arms and looks away from you.

Suddenly you think you understand the conversation you’ve been having. You’re surprised and a little warmed by the fact that she was willing to say that to you at all. 

“Ellie, I might not know everything about what Joel’s life has been like for the last 20 years – not yet, anyway – but I do know what that man looks like when he’s being a parent.” You think you see her suck in a breath at your words. You swallow and continue, “it looks the same now as it did then. And yeah, you don’t know me, but I knew him, and going by my own experience? That part of him is still in there. I can see it. As far as that man is concerned, you’re his kid. No question about it. And that’s not something we take back. It just is, ok? It’s forever and it’s unconditional. I promise you, it never goes away. Not for us.”

…

After your conversation with Ellie, which you’re hoping went well but you’re honestly not sure, you’re completely wrung out and over your own feelings. You spend about 45 minutes puttering around the kitchen and living room to avoid feeling any more of them before you hear footsteps on the porch.

Joel opens the door, looking around and spotting you quickly. He looks worried, but his expression clears a little when he finds you sitting at the kitchen table. “Hey, everything alright?”

“Yes, everything's fine. She didn’t have another coughing fit, we chatted for a little bit and then she fell back asleep.” His eyebrows raise when you say you talked to Ellie. As he takes the seat across from you his boot nudges yours under the table and then moves away. You try to ignore the effect that tiny touch has on you. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It went well, I think? You’ll probably hear about it either way.” You finish with a little bit of a rueful smile, hoping she’s warming up to you and not the opposite.

Joel smiles a bit in response. “Thank you again, darlin’. I couldn’t put them off anymore and I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to be here with her.” He sighs, running his hand through his hair. 

“To be honest with you, I’m still in shock that you’re here for me to ask. I… well. It feels a little bit too good to be true.” He looks uncertain as he says it. You nod. You feel the same way.

“I know. I… it’s kind of surreal? I want…” you hesitate, but he’s watching you like nothing could be more important than how you finish that sentence. You decide to just let it all out. It’s worked for you so far today. 

“I know it’s been 20 years, Joel, but part of me has felt like everything is the same from the moment I saw you, which is confusing as hell, because the other part of me knows it can’t be and it isn’t. You don’t know what I’ve done, I don’t know what you’ve done. We’re not the same people. Even if it feels like it. Even if looking at you and hearing your voice feels—“ You clear your throat and look away. 

“Even if it feels the same. Even if I want… Even if…” you trail off, not sure if you’re ready to finish that sentence, after all. You realize you’re gripping your hands together so tight it hurts, and you slowly relax them and flatten them on the table in front of you. You take a breath before continuing, gaze trained on your hands. 

“It’s like we hit pause 20 years ago and neither of us knew for sure what happened so there was no closure, no clear explanation. I don’t know about you, but I don’t know how to bridge that time with now. How to remember that version of me, the one you knew, and be this me. How to… Joel, so much happened, and I imagined so many versions of you. What our lives would have been like.” You take a deep breath. “I guess that’s what we need to talk about.”

You look over, gaze low to avoid his eyes, and see Joel is clenching his fists a bit, like he’s holding back. You’d like to think it’s from reaching towards you but maybe that’s just wishful thinking. Maybe you shouldn’t assume you’re reading him as well as you think you are. Maybe you need to spend more time reminding yourself of the things you don’t know about this man. 

Before your thoughts can spiral too far, though, he does reach out. You watch as his fists relax and you track the movement of his hand as it lifts from the table and slowly extends towards yours. He’s trembling, you notice, and then you realize you are too. You can’t tear your eyes away as his fingertips lightly touch the back of your left hand where it rests on the table. You feel all of the hair on your arms stand up in response. 

“Darlin’, I…” he pauses, and you both hold your breath as your eyes meet. 

Time slows to a crawl. He puts more gentle pressure into your connection, sliding his hand over the back of yours, touching you with intent for the first time in two decades. His thumb moves lightly back and forth over your wrist, a soothing motion. All of your focus narrows to that point of connection, even as his gaze pins you in place. You can’t look away. 

Holy hell. His hand fully covers yours and squeezes. After the two barely-there touches you’ve shared today it feels almost obscene. His hand on yours in the present calls up memories of his hands on you Before and you're dizzy, spinning through your memories. You didn’t know you could still feel this way. Not even for Joel. 

He opens his mouth to say something and your gaze drops to his lips. You’re desperate to hear it, whatever it is, when suddenly the moment pops like a soap bubble as the more annoying Miller sticks his head in the front door.

“Joel! I brought food. Oh! Hey there, sunshine.” He greets you, and then grins at you. “Am I interrupting something?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you, which is so absurd it kickstarts you back into motion. You need to get out of here. 

“No!” You say a bit too loudly as you leap to your feet, breaking your connection with Joel. You feel its absence immediately. Your hand is tingling. “I should get going, I don’t want to intrude and I want Ellie to be comfortable so she can get better. Joel, I– do you want–“

He interrupts you and catches your eye to hold you in place, but he doesn’t move his hands from the table. “Yes, I do.” You’re glad he does. You aren’t actually sure what you were going to ask, but at least you’re in agreement about it, whatever it is. “We still need to talk. I’ll find you tomorrow?”

You nod, a bit wildly. “I’ll be at the stables all day but I should be home around four.” He smiles at you, starting to stand, and you make a beeline for the door, elbowing Tommy a bit as you pass him. He makes a big show of staggering away, moaning and overselling it, but he deserves it anyway.

As you turn onto the road, you can’t help but glance back at the house you’ve just left. The sight that greets you stops you in your tracks – Joel is leaning against his own open door frame, arms crossed, looking pensive as he watches you walk home. 

Suddenly it hits you, your tired mind finally recalling the reason for all of the deja vu, and your spine stiffens as you inhale quickly in surprise. You almost call out to ask Joel if he remembers. He has to, right? It’s basically what got you together Before and the similarities are almost too much for you to believe. Your eyes move down and back up, looking around the porch, taking him in. All it took to break the tension the first time around and get you to actually start something together was a sick kid.

As you meet his eyes again you’re sure that you’re both remembering it. He can see your moment of realization, and after that moment in the kitchen, you know he can still read you. The expression on his face is complex but you see affection and regret, weighed down by all the memories you share. He tilts his head and smiles at you, a bit ruefully. You smile in response, hugging your arms around yourself. 

All of your nerves and your worries about your upcoming conversation fall away – you still have enough in common with this man that you can have this conversation, without words, 20 feet apart. 20 years apart.

A moment ago you felt like the last few hours had scraped to the bottom of your emotional reserves and left you empty. But the smile you and Joel share sparks something inside you and you’re filled with a sweet, tentative anticipation that you barely know what to do with. It’s been years since you felt anything like it. 

Tomorrow.

…

Austin, Spring 2001

You were setting your coffee down on your desk, mentally starting your to-do list, when you were surprised by a knock at your front door. 

A peek through your curtains revealed your neighbor, Joel Miller, pacing agitatedly on your front porch. 

Ever since you met on the day you moved in almost six months ago Joel had been nothing but welcoming. And from the moment you met his eyes that day you knew you were in trouble. 

In some ways, you were typical, friendly neighbors. You saw the Millers almost every day, if only to wave at each other from your driveways on busy mornings. You’d been over to babysit Sarah for a short afternoon or evening a few times. They even had you over for a welcome-to-town dinner early on and you’d traded dinner at each other’s homes about once a month after that. 

But what was going to get you in trouble was Joel the Handyman. He did end up fixing some of your bookshelves after the movers broke them – stop apologizing, darlin’, I told you I’m happy to help – which led to him fixing more and more things around your house. Every time he came over to fix something he would spot another creaky cabinet door or leaky faucet or crooked light fixture and promise to come back another day to take care of it. You’d swear he came over to fix something every week. At this point you were surprised there was anything left to fix. 

You always sat nearby while he worked and the two of you talked about anything and everything – whatever funny thing your students had done that week, how Sarah was doing (with school and with soccer and with everything else), Joel’s frustrations at work, Tommy’s latest escapades. Sometimes it felt like Joel knew more about you and your day-to-day life than anyone, since your friendships at work were still new and you’d moved far away from everyone who knew you at home when you took this job. You always ended up talking for much longer than it took Joel to finish whatever task he’d had in mind, usually sitting together on your back porch or at your kitchen table until he absolutely had to go. 

(His visits also gave you the opportunity to watch him work – to watch him flex his shoulders and arms and to admire the muscles in his back and thighs, (mostly) unnoticed. You’d feel bad about it if you hadn’t caught him with his gaze locked on your legs in your house shorts more than once. And then there was the time he’d come over to fix the ceiling fan – he’d climbed a ladder in your living room while you stood nearby to hand him his tools. His chest had been only a foot or so away from your face and when he’d raised his arms his t-shirt had lifted far, far above his jeans. You’d lost track of the conversation, eyes locked on the dark trail of hair that disappeared into the band of his exposed briefs. You’d vaguely thanked whatever deity might be out there that he had forgotten to wear a belt that day. As he stood on his toes and shifted his hips his jeans had slipped a little lower, showing you just a hint of an outline of something you had to stop yourself from picturing. You’d gone quiet, distracted and far away until he coughed lightly and your eyes shot back up to his face. 

“Still with me, darlin?” He’d smirked at you, knowingly, but had gotten right back to work after, continuing the conversation like nothing had happened.)

It felt like you were always catching each other trading looks. The flirtation you’d started that day next to the moving truck hadn’t turned into anything more, but it also hadn’t faded into anything less.

Pacing on your porch that morning, Joel looked as handsome as always, but he was clearly distressed. His normally only somewhat unruly curly hair stood on end as if he’d been tugging at it.

“Morning Joel, something I can do for you?” you asked as you swung the door open and invited him in. Despite how frequently he’d been in your home to fix things it was still a surprise to see him before 8:00 AM on a Tuesday. 

“I’m sorry to bother you, darlin’, but I’m in a bit of a bind. Are you working from home today?” Joel asked as he stepped inside. 

“Yes, is everything alright?” It was clear that Joel was trying to be polite but something was making him more anxious than you’d ever seen him. He was alternately twisting his hands together or running his hands through his hair as he shifted his weight. 

“It’s Sarah. She—“

“Oh no, what happened?”

“She’s just sick, so she can’t go to school but Tommy can’t be here today and I have to go to a job site for a couple of hours. I managed to reschedule some meetings but not everything. Could you possibly come work over at mine for a bit, keep an eye on her? She’ll probably sleep the whole time, you know, but I just don’t want her to be alone, she’s not old enough yet–”

“Joel, of course, I’d be happy to,” you cut him off, trying to reassure him with a smile. “Take your time, I’ve just got a day of grading and reading planned. I can be there for her if she needs me.”

The look of sheer relief that broke across Joel’s face surprised you as he leaned forward, grabbing your shoulders and resting his forehead against yours. Your breath caught in your throat. 

“Oh thank you so much, darlin’. I swear I’ll call as soon as I’m on my way back. Do you need help grabbing anything?” 

As he stepped back Joel raised his left hand and trailed his thumb across your cheek lightly, almost so light you couldn’t feel it, then brushed his fingertips down your neck. You felt your focus narrow to the point where he touched your face before he stepped away, putting more space between you. Your whole body shivered. This is not the time for that. You blinked a few times.

“Oh, um, no I’ve got it. I’ll pack up and be there in a minute.” Get it together. 

…

About 10 minutes later you were raising your hand to knock at the Millers’ front door when Joel flung it open in front of you and invited you in. 

“Sarah’s back asleep upstairs,” he said in a low voice, “but I woke her up when I got back to let her know you’re here. Feel free to set up wherever you’d like. You can check on her in about an hour – I wrote down what meds she’s had and when she can have them again over here on the counter. I’ll call you in a couple of hours. But call me if you need anything at all, ok? And if she gets worse. And you know where everything is, I know–“

“Joel. Don’t worry, we got this.” You smiled and reached out to squeeze his upper arm, trying to reassure him. 

“I know you do, I know, it’s just—“ he looked worriedly up the stairs before he sighed, shoulders dropping a little, and quickly rubbing his hands over his face. He started to turn towards the door. 

“I know, Joel. It’s Sarah. But I got this, ok? I’m here for you.”

Joel paused, midway through his turn towards the door, and looked back at you. He tilted his head as he considered you, an unreadable expression on his face. 

“I know, darlin’. You always are.” He said, almost too quietly for you to hear. “I’ll —“

“You’ll call me, I know. Now get out of here, Joel Miller.” You pointed playfully at the door. Joel cracked the first weak smile you’d seen on him all morning, nodded his head, and left. 

…

You’d been working your way through your students’ papers for about 45 minutes when there was some movement upstairs. You quickly set everything down on the couch and moved towards the stairs. “Sarah? Are you awake, sweetheart?” You heard a quiet response but couldn’t quite make it out, so you headed up the stairs to check on her.

You found Sarah sitting on her bed, looking a bit woozy and still mostly asleep. “Hi. I have to pee but I’m kinda dizzy.” Her voice was soft and scratchy and she sounded congested.

“Let me help you. I’ll get you some water after, alright? And you can have more medicine and get back to sleep until lunch.” Sarah nodded sleepily and leaned on you as you moved towards the bathroom together. 

“This is kinda embarrassing,” she said softly, and you laughed. 

“More embarrassing than the Great Tampon Panic of 2000?” You nudged her softly with your elbow and she laughed, and then coughed. 

“Don’t make me laugh! No, nothing can beat the way dad lost it that day.”

You smiled, knowing you were probably both remembering Joel’s panicked sprint to your house over the summer when Sarah got her first period and the ensuing chaos. You had been living next door for about a month and you were all more comfortable around each other after that. 

After a successful, if slow, bathroom trip, you got Sarah another dose of her medicine and tucked her back into bed. “I’ll be right downstairs, ok? I’ll check on you again soon.” You ran your hand lightly over her forehead and hair to soothe her, but also to see if she was warm. She didn’t feel hot under your hand. Sarah nodded and was soon asleep once again. 

…

Joel didn’t manage to call until about two hours later. 

“I’m so sorry, darlin’, I wanted to call an hour ago but I got caught up. How’s my girl?”

“She’s alright. We had a short bathroom break and another round of cold meds and she’s asleep again. I updated your note.”

Joel sighed, sounding more tired than you’d ever heard him. “I'm hoping to leave in the next half hour, so I’ll see you soon, alright?”

“We’ll be here.”

…

Much later, around dusk, you were finishing up a stack of assignments when you heard a key in the front door. You set everything aside and turned to see Joel quietly shutting the door behind him.

“Welcome back.”

“Hey, darlin’, how’s she doing?” he asked, setting his keys on the table by the door and stopping to remove his boots. 

“She’s been asleep since she had some toast around lunch time. I peeked in there about 15 minutes ago but she was still out.”

He sighed, and looked towards the stairs, brow furrowed and clearly worried. “I was hoping she’d sleep it off.”

“She could still be doing that. When I did talk to her earlier she was groggy but still herself – she told me not to make her laugh because it made her cough.” You smiled a little. “And she didn’t have a fever when I checked a little while ago.”

Joel nodded and turned back to look at you. “Even when she feels terrible she’s still a force of nature. I can’t thank you enough, darlin’. I know it was a lot, and it took me longer than I hoped, but–“

“Joel, it was fine.” You cut him off. “It wasn’t a lot, it wasn’t even that long at all, and I did just what I would have done anyway.” You tilted your head towards your stack of graded papers on the couch. Joel turned fully towards you, hands on his hips, and tilted his head while he considered you. The unreadable face was back.

“You look mighty comfortable over there.”

“Oh sorry, let me clean up—“

“No, darlin’, that’s not what I meant. No need to rush out. It’s a good thing. You look good. Over there, I mean. Um.” He smiled at you, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, looking a bit sheepish. You knew what you wanted that to mean but you weren’t sure he meant it that way. Did you look good, or look good here, comfortable on his couch, in his home? You felt your face start to warm as you smiled at each other.

“Can I help with anything before I go?” You ducked your head a little and started shoving your papers into your bag. 

“No, I’ve got it. I’d invite you to stay for dinner as thanks, but I don’t think anyone in this household will be much company today. Next week, ok? Come over for dinner, maybe Sunday? Give her some time to get better first.” He took a couple of steps towards you, watching as you packed up your things. 

“You don’t have to thank me, Joel–“

“Come for dinner,” he interrupted you, catching your eye. “Please.”

You stood and found yourself only a foot or so away from him, which didn’t help you calm your reaction to him. “Ok, ok, you know I’d love to.” You smiled and Joel smiled in response. “I don’t need convincing.”

Looking satisfied, Joel turned and led the way to the door. You grabbed your bag and followed, noticing he was standing a little taller than he had been that morning.

You started to move past him towards the door, but before you could, Joel suddenly reached out and pulled you into a hug. You found yourself with your arms circling his waist as he placed one hand securely at your lower back and used the other to gently cup the back of your head. You pressed your face to his shoulder. So quietly you almost missed it, he whispered, “Thank you again, darlin’. I was still worried, of course, but I felt so much better knowing it was you here with my girl all day.”

You couldn’t help it – you sank into his arms a little, returning the hug tightly. “It’s never a problem, Joel. You know I love that girl.”

You felt more than heard a little hitch in his breath as he paused before slowly stepping out of the embrace. “Yeah, I reckon I do. We’ll see you Sunday, right? Let’s say 6.”

“I’ll be here.” You smiled, touched his forearm briefly, and headed out the door. 

You felt his eyes on you the whole way to your front door, and glanced back as you dug out your keys to find him leaning against his own door frame, watching you. When he saw you turn he smiled a little and raised a hand to wave, finally ducking inside his own house only when you did the same. It felt like something had shifted. Something more was brewing between the two of you.  

Sunday. 

...

a/n: see you next Sunday for chapter 3! I decided not to split this or the next one half, so the next chapter has parts in Jackson and in Austin. Also, fun fact - this Austin section for chapter 2 was the first part of this fic I wrote, back in April.

Tag list:

@morgaussy @jay-zzle @bluetattoos

chapter 3 is posted!

[luvly-writer]

“XOXO”

Ch. 3 Part-Time lovers, full time problem

—•—

Tim Drake x reader

Fic + social media Au

warnings:

taglist: @w31rdg1rl @mxtokko @loonymoonystuff @grandstrangerphantom

Author’s note: One thing i love about Christmas is all the free time i have to write new stuff after finals 🤭 (she said as she still has a few finals to finish 😍). HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS CHAPTER!

For those wondering about “BOCM” i am having such a hard time finishing it. When my phone got changed the notes i had on that story got deleted and so i had to improvise a little cause i forgot its ending and it’s so frustrating cause i always want to give you guys quality content. I am scratching my head trying to finish it so i’ll continue this one and update slowly so that i can finish it correctly. Love you all and thank you for your patience.

Masterlist:

“Absolutely insufferable, she is,” said Tim to himself as he ran his hand through his hair. He had been begrudgingly cleaning his apartment. He was tempted to leave it dirty just to take a piss at Yn but he was sure that wouldn’t look good for his reputation so here he was. He would have hired someone to do it for him but recalling all the things he had regarding his alter ego, he knew he would have been fucked and he really couldn’t risk someone else knowing.

Finally, he finished ensuring everything looked great and sat back on his couch with his laptop. "There must be something about her that I can find. I refuse to be outdone and unprepared for this," he said, searching for any leverage he could hold over Y/n's head to bargain for his secret to remain so. Thirty minutes later he had found absolutely nothing. Unlike her two best friends, Clara Dupont and Satine Abbott, who were known to be found in scandal after scandal every week, Y/n had a clean slate. Satine was constantly partying during some fashion week or getting caught sleeping around with some governor's son or a married businessman. Clara has been known to pay off people to do her bidding, caught buying off police, lawyers, teachers, professors, judges and so, to run the city however she pleased. Yet, Y/n had nothing against her. Every article he found was about a charity she had worked on, a program she had opened, or an award she was given; and were all of them legit. She seemed like the angel in their group, but Tim knew better than to trust the all-too-shiny act. He has some recollection of them during high school though; he was a grade above them. They were known for their tight and exclusive group of three. He remembers how girls would do anything to become one of them. If it meant they had to step on someone else to appease one of the three, they would have done so. After all, having them as a connection moved mountains. Tim quickly grew frustrated. No psycho exes, no drug addiction, no jail time, no one dead, no bribes, nothing that could have stained the Vanderbilt name.

Throwing his head back, he heard his phone ring. Y/n was here. He sets his laptop on the coffee table and walks to the door, opening it and revealing a dazzling young woman in an outfit he thought someone as flashy as she never would wear. White Converse, comfortable mom jeans, a laid-back button-up up, and a cozy long brown coat. Her hair was loose and her face fresh with little makeup. Even after spending hours looking at pictures of her during his search, she still managed to take his breath away every time he was in her presence.

"I know I'm mesmerizing, but can you please let me inside? I'm freezing here," she said with her nose a little red.

He rolls his eyes with a laugh and lets her in. "I was gonna go more for repulsive but if that helps you sleep at night."

"Says the one that looks like sewer trampled rat" she quips back.

Tim couldn't help the snort that came out of him. She was an endless supply of good comebacks. He wonders how an interaction between his brothers and her would go, maybe he finally found someone to go head-to-head with Damian. She takes her coat off and lays it on the couch, together with her Burberry bag. He takes notice that her coat is also Burberry and decides to tease her a little. "And here I thought you were actually looking a little humble, but the coat and the bag ruin the look," he says as he scrunches his nose. He feels laughter bubbling as he catches the deadpan she gives him. "Whose less humble, me for wearing it and not saying a single thing or you for identifying it rather quickly and feeling the need to point it out?" she asks as she places a hand on her hip smirking at him.

"Touche"

She nods satisfied at his response and sits on the couch in front of him. "Ok. First order of business-"

"First order of business is giving me the reason as to why you are doing this." Tim interrupts her. She sighs and looks up, "God give me strength to not strangle him" she whispers and Tim tries to hold back a smirk.

"I wAS going to get to that before you so rudely interrupted me. The first order of business is giving you the context I am sure you are dying to hear." she pauses to look at him and he gestures for her to continue. He sees her look down and seem almost embarrassed. He can tell she is hesitating so he tries his best guess, "Are you trying to make someone jealous?"

"No, it's not that, it..." She takes a deep breath and spills it out. "My parents want me to marry a man who is very much too much older than me with the idea that it will help solidify the family lineage which I think is absurd because my sisters are right there AND THEY ARE MARRIED already to someone they love. But because Aurora and Charlisse keep on fighting to become the next CEO, my parents think it is only right to marry ME off to a very wrinkly and truly disturbing man who i am sure 20 years older than me because someone should continue the line whilst the other two are focused on their careers and making something out of their lives. SO, I needed to find a boyfriend who would be suitable for their standards whilst Aurora and Charlisse sort it out so that when they do, the attention and pressure of continuing the line will go back to them and not me." Y/n finishes breathing out. Tim was taken aback. Not only the normally composed girl he was used to seeing, spoke 7 words per second, but he was blown away by the information she had just given him.

"I need...a drink? Do you want one?" he said standing up and heading to the kitchen. No wonder she said this might take a while.

"Yes please" she said with a tense smile. "do you have wine?"

Tim made a sound of confirmation as he poured some scotch. He wasn't much of a drinker, but years of being part of the business world made him earn some appreciation for the drink. Especially on times like these. He poured some wine for her in a glass and walked back with both drinks. He gave her the glass and sat down. "Isn't that a little medieval?"

"Old money has habits that are tough to kill, unfortunately" she mutters dejectedly to her glass. "So, Timothy, any questions?"

"A few actually"

"Go ahead" she sad as she leaned back and got comfortable.

"Whose the old man?"

"Mr. Morris."

"You are fucking with me!" Tim reacted horrified, making Y/n laugh. If he hadn't been so shocked he would have delighted in her laughter but atlas, the situation did not give him the flexibility to do so. "Y/n say you are lying! That man is too old"

"I know, next question."

"Why me?"

"You are a good candidate and a lucky coincidence. I was going to ask Satine and Clara to help me but, that frankly would have ended in a disaster. I believe that as long as a plan stays between the parties involved who have something to lose, it will be successful. Satine would have chosen some random man who she's probably been involved with and Clara knows everything about everyone in the city-"

"Everything?"

"Except this of course, as I was saying she probably would have created a fake identity, assigned it to someone then, bribed them into playing the part."

"Much like you did?"

"I blackmailed you, not bribed you, get it right. Continuing, it was rather easy to choose you. You are Bruce Wayne's son, and even without that, you come from high society from your biological family, so you know the social cues and the ways of the people I am constantly surrounded by. You have proven to be quite ingenious as well as a good businessman. Knowing your "other me" proves you might as well be honorable too and what hero is not dammed with a savior complex can resist a damsel in distress? It is in your nature to want to influence things to be okay. My parents are friendly with Bruce therefore making things more appealing for the situation. I had the perfect leverage, the perfect candidate, and now I just need the perfect situation. So, lucky me when you bumped into me"

"You mean when you bumped into me?" he asked and she glared at him. "Careful, pretty boy," she said, and the way she said it caused chills to go down his spine.

"Any more questions, perhaps about my clean histoy and my best friend's not so clean image?"

Tim looked at her and she gestured to his laptop.

"What do you have to hide?" ha asked leaning foward.

"Wouldn't you like to know? Next question." she smiled as she also leaned forward in her seat. "What's our story?" he asked looking down at her lips, a little bit stained by the wine she had been drinking. Tempting

"Well, that's why I'm here huh, detective?" That nickname shouldn't have had the effect it did on him, but God, he wanted to hear those words from her again. "Show me why Red Robin is the world's greatest mind, second to Batman's only," she said leaning back and taking a sip of her glass once again.

"World's greatest detective, not mind, and some would say I have surpassed Batman, get it right," he said as he repeated her words in the end. "We need cero plotholes, so much so that it has to be so good that not even my family can find them. We are after all a family of detectives"

"Amazing" she said, sitting up straight, her entire focus solely on him.

"We both went to GA, so that's a starting point, we may not even have to lie. We met at Gotham Academy a few years back, you crushed on me for some time seeing as I was a year above you, and then forgot about me when I dropped out. Years later, we bump into each other on the street, and sparks fly or whatever the fuck will make the crowd fall in love with us, and then we start from there. Depending on how desperate are our odds, we will explain our timeline, but we have to agree on it before going public. How did you react when your parents told you the news?

"It waaaass..messy. A lot of screaming and crying"

"Then you will tell your parents of how heartbroken you were when they told you because you finally get the chance to be with your one true love and"

"Wait wait wait wait! Why do I have to be the lovesick puppy in this and you the prince charming" she said narrowing her eyes at him.

"Whose the one in dire need of escaping the situation?"

"Who's identity is in danger?"

"Who will be recreating the handmaid's tale?"

"You bitch!" She gasped at his insinuation

"Exactly so, puppy love for you it is. As I was saying, you finally got the chance to be with the love of your life, and the moment you are prepared to tell them, they spring this news onto you. So how dare they. We can coordinate public appearances, photos, family dinners, and posts so that everything will flow perfectly. Finally, once, you are liberated, we coordinate and stage a breakup and you hand me all the information you have on me cause I know you made copies of everything and I will eliminate all. of. it. We will just be another famous couple that got together and broke up and moved on." Tim was satisfied with his work. Y/n looked absolutely amazed by him.

"Wow...and you came up with all of that, that fast?" she said full of wonder. Tim felt a tug in his heart due to her reaction. It had been a long time since he had managed to make someone truly amazed by him in a really long time. He had been so used to being surrounded by skilled detectives, assassins, meta-humans, and aliens, that he forgot how great it felt to simply just be and have someone admire you for it. The little praise-seeking self in the back of his mind was thriving on her admiration. "Yes."

"Fuck...I think I couldn't have ever picked a better partner for this if I tried. Your reputation does you justice, Timothy, you are brilliant." she smiled. Y/n felt relieved. She was soon going to be free from her family's pressure. Another scheme has gone perfectly. She cleared her throat and masked her face once again. "We have to make a contract, establish some ground rules."

"By all means," said Tim. "I am serious. First rule, I get all evidence of my alter ego destroyed once it's over. I am doing this only if that is assured."

"Deal. Second rule, no one, absolutely NO ONE, knows except for the two of us." she said and he nodded, "I agree"

"Third rule, Kissing only happens if the situation requires it," she said. He hadn't noticed she had opened a doc in his laptop and was writing this entire thing down. He hummed in agreeance, too busy admiring her....admiring her...WOOP WOOP! EARTH TO TIM! This is a fake relationship and you are already getting fond of her?!?!??! WAKE UP

"Fourth rule, no feelings. This is strictly professional" he snapped, making her look at him strangely. "I think that was already implied but sure, if you want it written, I'll add it" and turned to his laptop again.

He felt a pit in his stomach. This was professional and besides, he just found her attractive, he can anyone attractive and it doesn't mean anything. Plus she is kind of an asshole. She is blackmailing him into a fake relationship...to save herself from being sold like cattle and forced to marry a creepy man which if he thinks of it maybe it is the best way she saw fit. AND AND she was very rude to him and has quite the attitude..although it is so attractive how she goes head to head with him. Tim was sweating' bullets.

"And done. I added a few things such as we have to have some sort of PDA, and how we might coordinate things. You know, some silly stuff that most people think isn't important but might end up being so. Do you have a printer?" She asked to which he nodded and gestured to his office. She sent the paper to print and went to look for it. Tim took a deep sigh, he just needed to calm down. He just found her attractive and interesting like a new case that needed to be cracked.

"Perfect, I printed two contracts; one for you and one for me. I also took one of your blue pens and signed on both papers, here, sign here and here." After it was done, she had noticed that a few hours had passed. "I should get going. I promised Satine and Clara that I would have dinner with them if they kept the paparazzi off me so that I could get here unbothered and we didn't have any issues." She said as she went for her coat and her purse. "Have a nice night, Timothy"

"Tim"

"Huh?"

"My friends and family call me Tim," he said looking at her.

She smiled softly, "Okay...Timmy, have a good night and get some rest." His heart melted at the fact that she took his nickname and altered it to make it hers. She heard her driver arrive outside and walked towards the door, Tim not so far behind. He noticed she faltered her step a little and looked at him hesitating. "Be....be careful tonight" she said but it was more like a whisper.

Tim nodded, "Thank you, enjoy dinner and get home safe," he told her as she went outside and went to her car. He stayed there until she got in the car and it began moving.

As she left, Y/n unfolded the contract from her purse and read the last rule...no feelings...

"you are going to be trouble.." she said fighting off a tiny smile and thinking of the handsome boy with the sharp quips, magnificent brain, and gorgeous blue eyes.

"What was that, miss Vanderbilt?" asked Donnie, her driver.

"Oh, it's nothing, Don. We are headed to L'amico, I'm meeting the girls for dinner," she said sweetly and her driver nodded.

Author's note: What do you think of their dynamic? Liking it so far? Feel free to give me any feedback you'd like.

[tojiscumdumpster]

CHAPTER THREE - TOJI

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀✧ summary page

 “How’s school going, kid?” 

 Dinners with Megumi are always tense. Awkward. Silence most of the time until one of us says something, which is usually never. There’s a few things we don’t do together anymore, but eating at the table remains. And it looks like he still likes it when I make shogayaki based on how he cleared his plate. 

 I didn’t have the best childhood or teenage years growing up. Actually, it was traumatic as shit. The scars scattered across my body remind me everyday. So it’s hard for me to give love, be a father to a boy when I wasn’t given that myself—especially without the help of my wife. 

 But that doesn’t mean I can’t try. 

 Whether Megumi wants to admit it or not, we’re alike in many ways. I mean, he has my fucking face for fuck’s sake. He’s stubborn as shit like me. Smart mouth. Slightly tempered. Not talkative. The list can go on and on. 

 And in other ways, he’s a lot like his mom. Caring. Full of life (when he wants to be). Optimistic. Selfless. Earnest. 

 Lately, I’ve been getting the side of Megumi where he took after me. 

 I get it. I haven’t been the best father to him these past seven years. I practically had him fending for himself or dropping him with Kong when I didn’t feel like taking care of him. My wife’s death fucked me up bad and I took it out on Megumi. 

 He didn’t and doesn’t deserve that shit. He didn’t ask to be in this shitty ass world. We’re in another country. I’m his sole guardian. His only parent, and it’s about time I start acting like it.

 So if that starts by me making small talk at the dinner table, then so be it. 

 “School’s fine,” he answers, flatly. 

 I take a sip of my ginger ale.  “Made some friends?”

 He gives me an annoyed look. “It’s only been a week.”

 “Some people make friends fast.” 

 “I’m not looking to make friends.”

 Yep. Definitely my kid.

 “Okay. Well, what about your teachers?” I take our empty plates to put in the sink.

 “They’re alright. One of them is pretty nice. My reading teacher.”

 “Yeah? What’s her name?” Megumi tries to do the dishes, but I push him away. “I got it.”

 “Miss L /N. She wants to set up a parent-teacher conference.”

 “She said when?”

 “Monday at three.”

  Shit. I start work at four. 

 “I know that’s near your work time, so I can tell her you can’t-”

 “Nah, it’s fine. I can make it. If anything, I’ll call in late.” He nods and gives me a tight smile. 

 A shitty expression, but I’m taking whatever that’s given to me. I’m honestly surprised he’s even talking to me this long. 

 “I have a kid from school coming over tonight. He wants to watch a movie,” he announces.

 “I thought you said you didn’t make any friends?”

 “I didn’t.” Is all he says before he goes to his room and shuts the door.

 Progress was made, I guess. 

  I wouldn’t automatically assume Megumi hates you… He’s adjusting just like you are . 

 Words of Y/N replays in my mind. I’ve been thinking about her all fucking week. I didn’t even bother to meet up with one of my on-call flings after I met Y/N because I knew no one would compare. 

 Not after when I felt those sweet full lips and perfect ass of hers. My fist has been meeting with my cock too many times to my liking at the thought of Y/N.  

 In the shower. Before and after work. When I wake up. When I go to sleep. I kept fucking my hand imagining it was her pussy wrapped around me. 

 I know Y/N would take me well. She’s just so damn thick. Perfect height and body. A sexy, smooth and soft yet raspy voice. How she whimpered in my mouth. 

 Fuck, she’d be a good girl.

 I’m never one to be desperate to have sex with a woman, but I’m beyond desperate. I need to fuck Y/N badly. Hard. Deeply. Have all of my cock fit inside of her pussy until she’s screaming that she can’t take it.  

 Everything about her is just so damn sexy. And I’m not only talking about her looks.

 I’m usually the type to fuck and go, but something tells me I would want to lay down next to Y/N and hear her talk forever. 

  Forever?

 What the fuck is wrong with me right now? Do I hear how I sound? Like a goddamn lover boy. I just wanted to fuck her. Not spend forever with her. 

 I know her pussy would be good, but forever good?

  Yes . 

 That’s a question I know never will be fucking no. 

 It’s been days. I went back to the bar everyday this week hoping that I would see her.

 I guess I’ll try again tomorrow. 

 Enough thinking. Time for work.

 “Fushiguro, you’re working third floor tonight with Gojo. Bachelorette party.”

 Fucking great. Not only am I pairing up with the annoying motherfucker, but also having to babysit drunk women. 

 Working at a VIP luxury club isn’t the worst, only if I’m able to do my normal shit like walk the floors. However, nights like these, especially Fridays where we usually have multiple events booked, it annoys me. 

 Because who gets stuck with the shit? Me.

 The club owner better be fucking lucky he pays me generously. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be doing most of the things he asks. 

 Bachelorette parties are not my favorites because most of the time women think I’m the sexy and mysterious security guard stripper . In their fucking dreams. I don’t crave that kind of attention. Hence why I took a job as security so I don’t have to talk as much.

 “Fushiguro, aren’t you glad we’re working together tonight?” The white haired fucker, Gojo, asks me.

 “Are you trying to fuck with me?”

 He smirks. “Depends. Is it working?”

 “Dude-”

 “Satoru, if Fushiguro punches you in the face again, don’t come complaining to me.” Another one of the securities joined the banter. Geto Suguru. 

 Usually, they pair those two together, but tonight they want to leave the babysitting to me with Gojo while he’s walking the floors. 

 Not looking forward to tonight. 

 At all. 

 “Fushiguro acts like he hates me but he doesn’t. Not when little Megumi loves me,” Gojo says. 

 I snort. “Is that you think?”

 “I’m practically his big brother.”

 Some of the men here are acquainted with my kid since I brought him to work with me in the beginning. Not an ideal environment for a kid, but didn’t have enough money to afford a babysitter. And despite him being twelve at the time, I had enough sense to not leave him alone in a foreign country. 

 “Yeah, whatever. Let’s just get this night over with.” 

 I head out the changing room to go to our post on the third floor. The club is damn near already packed and it’s not even eleven o’clock yet. People are drunk and dancing, bumping into me and shit. 

 Another thing I don’t like about nightlife.

 Rather than take the elevator, I use the stairs because it seems like the ladies for the bachelorette party are using it to bring up their set up. Looks like some of them are already up here.

 The moment I step on the third floor, I attract eyes from the women. They ogle me like I’m their dinner for the night. And believe it or not, having the attention on me is not my favorite. Like I said earlier, I’ve been dealing with women almost half my life. I offered my sexual advances for money to fend for myself after I was disowned by the Zen’in Family. 

 I’m single and forty-two. I still have my sexual needs, and it’s not often I’ll deny a woman that offers herself if I’m attracted to her. But that doesn’t mean I want to be stared at all night. 

 “Ouh, are you one of the male strippers? Sexy bad boy security guard? ” one of the women asked. Brunette. Grey eyes. Average height. Not too bad on the eyes either. 

 “No. I’m actual the security guards to babysit you, and make sure you don’t fucking puke everywhere.”

 She giggles, twirling her hair around her finger. “Well, I’ll try to be on my best behavior, Mr. Security.”

 Definitely not my type. 

 I give her a tight nod and walk to the back of the section out of eyesight.

 Eventually the rest of the ladies join to begin their party. Gojo comes up the stairs late, per usual, and the attention turns to him. Unlike me, he likes when women stroke his fucking ego. All better for me while we’re up here for the night. 

 My assumption is that the bride-to-be just entered because of all the screams and her dressing in white. Am I still allowed to be fucking annoyed by unnecessary loud noise while working in a night club? Yes. 

 I solely chose this job because it requires less talking and gives me more money. 

 And I don’t play when it comes to that. 

 For the most part, time is going by fast. Thirty minutes turns to an hour, and an hour turns to two. Full house club and drunken bachelorette party. Gojo, of course, entertains them, but I stand in the same spot. 

 “Aren’t we missing someone? I hear the bride ask.

 “Yeah, Y/-”

 “I’m here! I’m here!”

 That voice sounds familiar. No, I know that voice. When I look over to the section, deep skin that glows under the colorful lights, coils pulled in an updo, stilettos with a tiny fucking dress that’s cut out around the waist. 

 Y/N. 

 And fuck, she looks damn good.

 “Y/N, you’re late,” the bride-to-be pouts. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

 She kisses her on the cheek. “I know. I’m sorry. I had like three thousand tests to grade, then I had to go pick up your gift. Then, freaking Nanami. It was just a lot,” she explains. “But I’m here! And you have me for the rest of the night.”

 “Okay, sounds hectic. So, you’re forgiven.” The bride-to-be pours a shot of tequila in a glass to hand to Y/N. “Here. You have a lot of catching up to do. As you can see—we’re drunk.”

 Y/N giggles. “Oh, gosh.” But takes the shot and downs it anyways. 

 She makes her rounds to greet the rest of the party and it’s like they all gravitate to her. Like the true life of the party has arrived. 

 I study every interaction. I watch how those pretty lips move and spread a smile across her gorgeous face. It’s only been a few days and it feels like she’s gotten prettier since I last saw her. 

 My cock hardens at the thought of having Y/N’s ass in my hands and her full lips on mine again, maybe this time while she’s naked and riding me. Or preferably in that dress. It’s so damn short and tight. Her love handles shows, and again, she’s not wearing a fucking bra. 

 It’s like she’s begging for me to suck her pretty tits. I will if she wants me to. 

 “Shit, Fushiguro,” Gojo says, coming near me to interrupt my thoughts. “Being up here isn’t bad after all. All these beautiful women, especially the one that just came in. The thick one? She’s beyond gorgeous.”

 I let out a territorial growl and shot daggers through his skull. Y/N isn’t mine, but she’s mine. 

 “Off limits.”

 He laughs. “What? That’s your girlfriend? I doubt she wants a geezer like you.”

 “I’ll fuck-” And before I could respond, it’s like Y/N felt someone staring at her because when she turned around, we made eye contact. 

 She smiled a few times since she got here, but none of the smiles compares to the one she’s giving me right now. It shows her excitement. Her attraction. Her amazement of seeing me, like she never would me again, the same way I thought about her. 

 Y/N says something to one of the other women before making her way to me. Her walk, how her legs look, especially while wearing those heels. How those full fucking hips sways—it’s sexy. She’s sexy, and I’d be damned if she doesn’t know it. 

 “Toji Fushiguro.” Her voice is calm and relaxing. “We meet again.”

 “We do.”

 She closes the space between us but still keeps a respectful distance, just enough to have her vanilla and warm berries scent invade my senses.  

 “Hi, big guy,” she breathes, sexually. 

 Y/N calling me big guy causes my dick to twitch in my pants. I really need to readjust myself right now, but it would make it real obvious how hard I am. 

 “You look beautiful,” I tell her like it’s a fact because it is. 

 “Thank you. You clean up well, too.”

 “Just work uniform.”

 She shrugs. “Then maybe I need to start coming here more often.”

 This time I don’t need to ask if she’s flirting with me like last time. I know she is. Her body language is telling me that she wants me to fuck her. 

 There’s just something so organic about our chemistry. Our barely started chemistry, which makes me feel like we’ve been at this our entire lives. I refuse to believe we’re just strangers. 

 “You’re too pretty to be talking to him,” Gojo snorts. 

 Y/N gives him an annoyed expression, arching her brow. “And you’re too much of an asshole to be talking to me.”

 The balance between Y/N being sweet and spicy makes a pervert out of me. Fuck. 

 Although I didn’t need the defending, it’s funny knowing not every woman is willing to stroke that motherfucker’s ego. 

 He doesn’t say a word. Just walks back to his side of the section while smirking at Y/N. But of course, she pays him no mind. 

 “I hope all your coworkers aren’t like that to you.”

 “I don’t really care if they are or aren’t. I’m here to make my money and leave,” I said.

 “I suppose. I still don’t like that, though.”

 “Come here, Y/N.”

 She completely closed any bit of space that kept us apart and pushed her breasts against my chest. I look down at her, dragging my eyes to her tits to see how full and swollen they are. Perfect size to put my cock between. 

 “Are you going to touch me?” she questions, invitingly. 

 “I can’t. Club rules. Unless we’re not seen on the floor.”

 She raises her brows, smiling. “So… behind closed doors, you can?”

 “I can.”

 All she does is smile and go in the direction of the stairs, but first stops at the section. 

 “Ladies, I’ll be back. The security guard is going to show me where the bathroom is. I’ve never been here before.”

 “Let us know how the dick is!” someone yells, leaving Y/N laughing while walking away. 

 I can neither confirm or deny that Y/N and I are going to fuck, but how she’s looking tonight, I’m willing to take whatever she gives me. 

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

[narrans]

My Borrowed Son | 18 | Concerning Claims

Chapter Eighteen | Concerning Claims

Parker woke the next morning from a startling dream. He was running from something that he couldn’t see, nor did he want to see. He was sprinting for his life. Lungs were burning. Tears streaking down his cheeks. Everything felt big and menacing.

Clouds darkened the sky within seconds. Rain came pouring down from the darkness high above his head. There was someone’s voice calling out to him. It sounded so familiar, and yet not at the same time. Waves and water threatened to choke him, filling his mouth and nose as he gasped for air.

When Parker opened his eyes, he sat bolt upright drenched in sweat and chest heaving as he looked wildly around the room.

It had been a while since he had that dream.

It was a reoccurring nightmare where the details felt too real, too close, just to be a dream.

But that’s what they were.

Dreams.

Heaving breath after breath, Parker leaned back and let his heart pound and race until it finally quieted. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand and stared at the space sticker above his head while his mind processed the dream.

The digital alarm clock, right on cue, began buzzing against the far wall. It was the alarm humming away without a care in the world. The boxy numbers on the green lit screen illuminated the room in a Matrix like glow, making the waking world fell like it was still part of the dream world.

Parker gave himself ten more seconds before hoisting himself up out of bed. He pressed the hand-sized button on the side of the watch to turn it off before falling into routine. Comb through the hair. Face washed. Teeth brushed. Clothes on.

The familiar padding of his mom’s footsteps came into the room right on cue followed by the signature tap tap tap on the edge of the wall.

“Parker?” His mom’s melodic voice was followed by the sound of the creaking hinges as the wall pulled away.

“I’m up,” Parker called. The wall stopped moving but remained cracked ever so slightly. Parker took the opportunity to head into his classroom and get everything turned on.

Parker’s mom tapped the top of the opening for a moment before asking, “Do you want anything specific for breakfast? I know you’ve got a lot of presentations today. Just some jelly toast?”

Parker smiled. His mom knew him so well.

“Yes, please,” he called. “But in a little bit. I want to go over my notes again. I’ll eat during third period. Thanks mom!”

For whatever reason, Parker didn’t like eating first thing in the morning. In fact, he tended to do better throughout the day if he ate scarcely. It seemed to contradict the behavior of many of his fellow students and friends. Many of them were ravenous in the mornings recently, but not Parker. There were also a few other interesting things that were developing, but Parker wasn’t going to think about it right now.

First things first – notes.

It wasn’t until Parker leaned forward and began flicking on all of his devices that he noticed the drill bit he had brought with him the night before. He had scurried back to his bed so fast that he had almost forgotten that he had brought it with him and threw it on the ground by his computer gear.

The events of last night felt like his dream – real and not real. It was more like a memory than a dream, and this dream was staring him right in the face. The rusty flat head drill bit just laid there as if trying to tell some silent story Parker couldn’t translate.

Where did it come from?

Where did it belong?

An odd sensation of kinship came over Parker as he stared at that drill bit. Some days he felt like those questions could apply to him. Those were thought that usually happened during bouts of loneliness Parker experienced from time to time in the dark nights when he heard about his friends hanging out or going places he knew he could only dream of visiting one day – and never alone.

“Parker? Are you online?” the voice of Parker’s teacher snapped him out of his temporary distraction. He tore his eyes away from the rusty drill bit and focused on the webcam.

“Yes. Yes! Sorry. The connection was acting a bit squirely. Can you hear me?” stammered Parker. The initial startle eventually calmed, and class proceeded as normal. Parker unfortunately had to go first in his presentation because of the initial worry about his internet connection issues, but nothing like that happened.

Tests finished and papers submitted, he and his friends waved a quick good-bye since Parker decided to have lunch with his mom.

“See ya spaceman! Don’t forget! Gaming after school. If you’re late, I swear I’m coming through the screen to get you,” Billie threatened playfully as the screen went to “Please Stand By,” a screen Parker created to pan over his face when he needed to step away.

His bones ached as Parker stretched and stood up from his desk. It was finally time for lunch, and his nerves finally dissipated enough for him to feel it. For whatever reason, Parker was feeling hungrier when he did eat. He knew he operated better without it in the mornings, but recently he always felt hungry.

It was probably something to do with what his mom said about his body starting to change, but that was still on the back burner of Parker’s mind.

Now, another series of questions was keeping the teen preoccupied, and it was making him nervous. It wasn’t like there was anything wrong about what he did. Sure, he didn’t want to say anything about using the line because he knew it would worry his mom and she would probably make him take it down. At the same time, the curious things he saw by the electrical cover and the wall made him squirm in ways he hadn’t before.

Something about the darkness of the wall and how it seemed to beckon him forward startled the young teen, and hopefully his mom would know what he was talking about.

So, packing up the drill bit into a backpack, Parker headed out of his little house and, like a good little boy who didn’t want to get in trouble, climbed down the stairs. The distance from one side of the room to the other felt like an impossible distance and made the hair on the back of Parker’s neck.

The space just felt so empty.

There was nothing to climb on.

There was nothing to hide under.

Parker shook his head as he processed what he had actually just thought.

Where did that come from?

It was ridiculous. Why would he need to hide? There was no reason to hide in his own home. While the sensation of being completely exposed in a mostly empty room loomed in Parker’s mind, he elected to walk calmly across the wooden floor.

He had just made it to the door when he heard a little tap tap tap on the door high above him. Parker’s heart hit the top of his throat and he backed toward the trim, but stopped halfway and corrected his course back toward the door.

What was with him today?

“Parker? Are you finished with class?” his mom called softly as she cracked open the door.

“Hey momma! Down here! Yeah, we’re breaking for lunch,” called Parker. His mom’s eyes flicked from the little house to the floor where she immediately spotted him. He waved as big as he could and stepped back a few steps as she knelt and held out her hand to him.

“Well, perfect timing then,” his mom smiled. Parker clambered onto his mom’s hand and noticed the faint scent of cheese and butter accompanied by the faint smell of spices. If he was right, she made grilled cheese and tomato soup for lunch. “How did your projects go? Good so far? Feeling confident?”

Parker folded his legs crisscross style and braced as the hand beneath him lifted him high into the air. There was always an exciting yet nauseating sensation that came with his mom picking him up from the ground.

He thought about the questions and eventually shrugged as his mom rested her hand on the table for him to disembark.

“I think I did well. I had to go first most of the time since I was worried about my internet connection,” Parker replied. He felt something inside of him squirm uneasily.

“Yeah? Well, better to get it out of the way and then you get time during class to just relax,” responded his mom. Parker had heard that line before, and he knew she was right. Though he didn’t tell her, he had been using some of his spare time in class to work on his own writing.

Now wasn’t the time to think about his in-class activities, however.

Parker sadly had no inkling of how he wanted to go about asking, but the direct approach generally worked out for him. So, that’s what he decided to do.

“Um… actually… mom? Could… I ask you something?”

“You can always ask me anything and I’ll answer as best as I can.”

His palms suddenly felt clammy. Something in the back of his mind felt deceptive, like he wanted to keep this thing about the power and the drill bit a secret.

But why?

Why would he feel that way?

“Parker? You okay sweetie? You look a bit pale all of a sudden.”

Parker snapped out of his temporary stupor and looked up, realizing his brow felt a bit clammy too. He reached up and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, shuddering as he realized he had a light cold sweat on his brow.

“Yeah… yeah… I’m fine. I just… well… I got a bit spooked last night from the lights and that whole thing was just… in my mind just now,” stammered Parker.

“Oh… sweetie… I’m sorry. Did you have a nightmare about it?” At his mom’s question, Parker remembered more fragments of his dream. He remembered a hand reaching out and grabbing him. He remembered a voice shouting something at him as the rain pummeled the ground around him.

“N-no. I had a… different dream. Well. Nightmare. It’s the same one… about the storm.”

Amanda’s face immediately filled with sympathy. She knew about the reoccurring nightmare Parker experienced about some raging storm and darkness coming at him from all directions. In her heart of hearts, Amanda suspected her tiny, adopted son was catching glimpses of the past of where he was before, but she didn’t dare bring anything up – not yet.

When he asked the questions, she would answer them.

“Sweetie, I’m so sorry. You could’ve come and gotten me. Or rang the bell. I would’ve gotten up. You can wake me at any time,” said Amanda. Her heart ached as she thought about Parker shivering sad, frightened and alone in the other room.

“I know, but I wasn’t that scared. It was just a dream,” mumbled Parker as he averted his eyes. Amanda watched as Parker reached into his makeshift backpack and, to her heart sinking surprise, produced a rusty drill bit.

Immediately, a thousand thoughts ran through her head.

Where did he get that?

That doesn’t look like one of mine.

Why is it so rusty?

Wait… if he didn’t get it from me… where did it come from?

Parker’s question, raised by his thoughtful, tiny voice, brought her thoughts to a screeching halt.

“Mom? Is this one of yours?” Amanda set her jaw and held out her hand for Parker to place the drill bit. He surrendered it willingly and looked up expectantly for an answer. Amanda lifted it up, pinching it between her index finger and thumb, and rolled it around. The flathead had small scuff marks that she was sure Parker noticed along the tip which had scraped away parts of the rust.

It had been used – and recently.

What was worse was that she didn’t recognize it. It wasn’t part of her tool kit; but if it didn’t come from there, where did it come from?

“Where did you find this?” she asked as she felt her hands starting to shake, her thoughts now kicking back into high gear.

“By the electrical cover, which was a bit loose,” replied Parker. “And… there was something else too…”

Amanda swallowed dryly.

What was Parker going to say?

Was there any way to stop it?

Was it happening? Right here right now?

“Oh?” Amanda prayed Parker couldn’t hear the strain in her voice.

“Yeah. There was a weird mark on the wood. I… well… I went down to double check that the power cord wasn’t going to blow in the middle of my presentations and everything. I went down and found that by the electrical cover that we replaced. And I know you have a flathead, but it doesn’t look rusty like this so I looked at the cover and it was off slightly.

“So, I gave it a nudge and it came loose and there was this weird pencil mark on the wood. I can show you. It’s kinda small and looks like a little house with a checkmark on the inside. So, anyway, I just wanted to ask you if you know what it is and if this was yours.”

When Parker finished, Amanda felt completely sick to her stomach. Parker’s questions about where this mystery thing came from was part of her worst nightmares, and it was dangerously close to the truth.

Because, ultimately, Amanda’s thoughts went wild and made the dangerous leap that Parker might not be the only small person living under her roof.

If the tool piece wasn’t part of her kit and wasn’t there before when she was working with Parker, then someone had to leave it there; and that someone couldn’t have been much bigger than Parker.

It was only logical.

It was the only thing that made sense.

But… if that’s the case… does whoever it is know about Parker?

Are they going to leave him alone?

Are they going to talk to him?

What if they try to hurt him?

How long have they even been he-

“Mom?”

Amanda took her first breath in a moment and looked down into Parker’s thoughtful brown eyes. There was something in those sweet, innocent eyes that sent a pang through Amanda’s chest.

How?

How could she do it?

How could she tell this wonderful little boy that he wasn’t hers? At least, not entirely.

More importantly, why hadn’t this mysterious other person, if they were still around, come and talked to Parker? Or her for that matter?

Amanda took another deep breath and looked at the drill bit, making the decision of a lifetime.

Ultimately, Parker didn’t ask about himself or where he was from.

He only asked about the drill bit and the markings he found.

Answer the questions he’s ready for. If he didn’t ask, he’s not ready. If he asks follow-up questions after this… so be it.  

“It’s weird,” she said after clearing her throat a few times. “I don’t recognize it. I don’t know where it came from. I can put it with my things if you’d like. Maybe it did come from an old kit of mine.”

“Yeah, sure. I mean, I don’t need it,” replied Parker. “And the markings?”

“I can’t say without seeing it myself. They don’t look like carpentry marks or construction marks?” Parker shook his head to his mom’s questions.

“Nope. It’s just weird,” Parker stated. When her son didn’t ask any additional questions, Amanda put a pin in the conversation and decided to change the subject.

“Well, we can discuss this a bit more after you finish school. Until then, you need to get some food down. Your lunch break is almost over. Goodness, they don’t give you any time at all,” suggested Amanda as she picked herself up from the table and brought over the grilled cheeses and tomato soup she had made.

“Yeah, right. Thanks mom,” smiled Parker. He took his bowl and plate graciously and began eating his food in little bites, his appetite stunted by this interaction he had with his mom.

There was something in the air that lingered around like a bad smell. There was a tremor to her voice and a tremble to her hand. Parker wasn’t sure what it was. His mom seemed just a little frazzled.

But why?

Parker glanced back up at his mom and noticed her frequent nervous glances in his direction. That little curious voice in the back of his head forced him to surrender and ask once more, “Mom? You sure you don’t know where that came from?”

Parker watched as him mom’s fingers fumbled on her spoon, dropping it with an ear shattering clang as it fell back into the bowl. It made both of them jump out of their skin before Parker’s mom cleared her throat and nodded slowly.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she claimed before biting her lower lip and slowly making eye-contact with Parker. “Where do you think it came from?”

Parker averted his eyes and shrugged, embarrassed to say he didn’t have an answer. That curious part of him wondered once more about what he saw last night when he stepped out of his room.

Was what he saw really a shadow? And, if so, what made it?

Was that what left the drill bit? The shadow?

One thing was certain, and it was that Parker knew shadows didn’t make themselves – and his mother’s curious claim of not knowing wasn’t sitting well with him.

Was… his mom… keeping something from him?

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

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[alexandia03]

Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros - Theories, Spoilers and Headcannons

This post will serve as my way of making order in my own mind, in a way. I finished Fourth Wing three days ago and I feel like my mind is exploding. I have read lots of theories and I have my own to add to the list, so... maybe if I put them in one place and start a discussion with you all, we might find some answers - considering November does not seem to come any soon.

Before I forget -

This post will be like an analogy of theories, spoilers, headcannons. If you did not finish the book yet, I suggest scrolling over it. See you when you join our little club of desperate broken hearts post-reading.

And now... let`s begin.

1. Returning to Basgiath

Who will return to Basgiath is the most important question I have. You can read the synopsis for Iron Flame here.

From the synopsis for the second book, we know that Violet will return to the war college and I can think of a few reasons for her to return: she wants to keep her promise to Liam (ouch, my aching heart) to keep an eye on his younger sister (Sloane?), but at the same time I have the feeling that Violet will act as a spy for the rebellion throughout Iron Flame.

And it is not a bad idea. I mean, Violet did not raise any suspicions in the first book. Sure, her connection with Xaden was frowned upon, but most of the people in command (her mother, the king, Dain`s father and some teachers) saw her as a victim in the situation.

“Their dragons are mated,” Mom offers, her smile chilling. “So she’s grown quite close to him out of necessity.” “That’s excellent.” King Tauri beams. “It’s good to have a Sorrengail on lookout for us. You’ll let us know if he decides to, oh, I don’t know.” He laughs. “Start another war?” (Chapter 31)

Bonus - Violet is a Sorrengail. There are few others with better access to information and our little Violence has a talent to stumble over secrets.

The problem is... who will return with her?

I have seen people saying Xaden might remain behind in Aretia, considering the attack was a plan to kill him and the others. Perhaps a plan orchestrated by Violet`s mom - and because Violet was added to Xaden`s squad afterwards and considering Dain`s objections, it seems that her presence was not part of the initial plan. But can Xaden remain behind? I will highlight the main reasons I don`t think so:

The most obvious reason - Tairn and Sgaeyl. They can not be separated for a long period of time and Xaden cant just come by (even in secret) every few days without being noticed. From the synopsis, we know that Violet will be directly watched by that new vice commandant - he will not turn a blind eye to a certain blue dragon (from a rare breed) coming and going as she pleases.

I read a fanfic where Violet choses to leave Tairn behind and return with Andarna, which might be a possibility in theory - let me explain it briefly: this theory suggests that Violet will pretend Tairn died in the attack along with his mate and the other riders and dragons and her bond with Andarna saved her from a fate similar to Liam`s. It is a plausible lie, but... have we met Tairn? He is the ultimate protective dad figure, he would rather die than let Violet on her own where he can not be. He had a saddle and a baby carrier made for Violet and Andarna, so I doubt he will be okay with it. And before someone comes to suggest he can hide somewhere nearby - he is freaking huge, guys.

Another reason I think Violet will not come alone is the threat Dain poses. Sure, she will not let him get near her again, but it might be beyond her control. What if he is ordered to interrogate her by someone higher in the food chain? That is why I think Imogen must be returning with her, but I will get into a deeper discussion about Imogen later (I absolutely adore her). Her signet might be the only way to avoid Dain`s prying hands.

Besides, Xaden will die of longing and worry if Violet leaves without him.

What I think will happen?

They will all return. Or at least Xaden and Imogen will return with her. Xaden will be appointed to a position somewhere far away or somewhere he can be closely watched by someone the command trusts - maybe with Mira?

It might be a good occasion to gain Mira`s trust and get her to join the rebellion (let`s be honest, she will join it at some point).

OR!

Only Imogen will return with Violet. Considering her signet lets her wipe recent memories, she can facilitate meetings with Xaden and Sgaeyl.

However, I am fairly certain that Xaden will return. There would be no reason for the new vice commander to pressure Violet to spill out our shadow boy`s secrets if they would think him dead.

2. Professor Carr

The second matter on the list... I don`t know if anyone else noticed, but there is a paragraph in the book, during Violet`s training sessions with him, when he says something like this:

“And the fact that you bonded Tairn makes you and Riorson the most coveted pair of riders this kingdom has seen in far too long. If I could offer a piece of advice?” His eyes narrow. “Please do.” At least he’s brutally honest, so I know where I stand with him. “Keep your loyalties clear. You and Riorson both have exceptional, lethal power that any rider would be envious of. But together?” His bushy brows furrow. “You would be a formidable enemy who command could simply not afford to let exist. Do you understand what I’m saying?” His voice softens.

Why am I interested in this passage? Because it sounds like a warning and not the make-sure-you-are-loyal-to-Navarre sort of warning. I fail to see any kind of loyalty or admiration for the command on Carr`s part - the opposite, really. I would go so far as to say he might be in on the rebellion.

Why does he train Violet privately? Why not on school grounds? I have the feeling he knows that her ability might be the only weapon against wyverns and venins.

Am I crazy?

3. Imogen

By far the most interesting theory I have come across. Here is a link to a Reddit theory about it, which I absolutely agree with. If the person who wrote it comes across this post - I fucking love you, mate.

To sum it all up...

Imogen has the power to wipe memories and there are some moments that seem suspicious.

How does Violet know about Imogen`s signet? I doubt the pink haired raider would just tell her during training. And how come Violent doesn`t go into detail about it? Perhaps because Imogen wiped out this memory.

The author of this theory also goes into detail about how it is possible for Imogen to wipe out memories, but not knowledge, about how it is probably a secret few are in on. They also give a plausible explanation as to why Imogen seems to be absent during the Montserrat trip and as to why Xaden has a lighter backpack when they leave. Absolutely brilliant.

But I can`t help but notice... did Xaden come to Montserrat only for that weapon transport, thus lying about Sgaeyl not resisting to be far from Tairn for more than 3 days? Because this changes... a hell of a lot of things.

We can all agree that Imogen will have a central role in the next books - you can probably tell by now that I am excited.

Seriously, take a look at that post.

4. Brennan Sorregail

The piece of resistance!

He is alive and part of the rebellion. Okay, we all get that. But... how? And how much of what has been happening is he in on?

Did he correspond with Xaden? Did he know about Violet and made Xaden protect her? Shadow boy here was clearly in on the secret of Brennan being alive. I want answers, Yarros!

Is Brennan in a leading position in the rebellion?

Where will he stand on Violet returning to Basgiath?

I feel like he will be the wild card of the series. It will be like a bomb when he starts spilling all the information he has, I can tell. And I love it already.

I feel like Violet`s dad knew about it all - about the real reason behind the rebellion, about the wyverns and venins and about his son faking his death. I want to know more about the Sorrengail men, please and thank you.

Anyhow, this is all for today. I will probably continue to collect theories and post them separately. Please feel free to comment your own thoughts - I am open to discussions as long as we keep it civil, guys!

And as a side note - does anyone know a group chat or something for Fourth Wing? I desperately need people to talk to about this amazing book. Or role-playing groups? Message me if you are on the same boat.

Kisses!

[diodellet]

what can i do for you? (jamil viper x gn!reader*)

i was originally thinking of a hcs post for who would be the best charac to borrow a hair tie from and then realized my bias would shine through so... yeah? hooray for ya girl's first twst fic? jamil makes me confused... like i wan to punch him sm???? maybe its bc im still in recovery over not getting his alab naria ssr content warnings: -anachronistic (it is set in the main story of twst, the events of the Prologue chapter happened but there are no references to Overblots.) -references to some spoilers for Book 4 -*reader has thick, long, not-straight hair word count: 5.5k words

chapter 1: just let me do this for you

When it came to most things in his life, Jamil had little to say with regards to how he felt about such. From a young age, he was taught to put his personal thoughts aside. If he had so much to say, then he could direct that energy to his work instead. From a young age, he was taught not to make a big deal out of things, rather, he learned to placate and smooth things over. With time, even little joys were overlooked out of his mind’s automatic urge to run through his tasks and obligations again and again. There was no end to the things he had to attend to, so whatever he felt, whatever he had to say, would go disregarded and ultimately remain unsaid. But for some reason, today felt different.

Of course, nothing outwardly changed. Flight class was technically his second subject of the day after morning training at the basketball club. The sun’s rays had yet to grow harsh and he had enough time to get his body to fully wake up. The flying drills were easy enough to accomplish. With it being early into the semester, the class was still being made to recall past lessons. But as usual, Jamil would have to take his time completing them, making sure to match the majority of his classmates’ skill level to land squarely in the middle. Though, the teacher’s attention was mostly focused on the first years since it was their first time flying out in an open area. Another loud yell followed by the shrill sound of the coach’s whistle told him that another first-year nearly fell off their broom. 

Sparing the field a cursory glance, he estimated that he could complete the practice course a bit quicker than he usually did. He could shave off a few seconds from his regular record. Maybe he deserved to show some progress in the class and use the remaining time for something else. Hovering above the treeline, he watched the specks of students going about. The cool temperature of the wind grazed against his shoulders, the golden ornaments in his hair chimed softly with the movement. For once, it could be said that Jamil was in a good mood.

The same couldn’t be said for you though.

He spotted you, the blue flames of your familiar’s ears starkly standing out against the field of green and the black of the PE uniform. That combined with the loud and late entrance the both of you made, caught the attention of all the involved classes. Your frantic screaming, along with the broom speeding faster than what was manageable led to the pair of you getting stuck in a tree. The two Heartslabyul students who frequently accompanied you, tried to get you down without aggravating any possible injuries you sustained.

Come to think of it, he did have to remind Ace about afternoon training. Guiding his own broom, he descended to land a ways from where your group was standing.

“Have you ever heard of a hairbrush?” Ace picked a bunch of leaves out of your hair.

“I already told you I woke up late—ow—so I couldn’t.” You winced before swatting his hands away. “...and besides, my hair tie broke.” 

“Y’were hurrying me to finish eating breakfast…”

“Because you’re powering the broom, Grim. I’m not gonna make you do that on an empty stomach.”

“Maybe you could get a haircut if it’s such a hassle to take care of?” Deuce suggested as he handed you your broom. It probably flew and landed a bit further away after you and Grim crashed. 

“Maybe.” You tilted your head, tone pensive as you considered the prospect, before your expression gave way to a grimace. “But it’ll be expensive…”

“Come visit Heartslabyul then, we’ll use the hedge shears on you.”

That remark pulled a laugh from you. And it was contagious, making your friends smile in turn. The conversation continued in such a way as you slowly combed your hair. With each pass of your fingers through the locks, your expression would scrunch up in slight pain before you’d move on to undo the rest of the tangles.

“Okay, this is probably the best I can do. Ace?” You held out an open hand to accept his spare hair tie.

“Took you forever. Coach Vargas’ll be calling your names any second now.” He dropped it into your palm.

“Not if he calls you guys first—Coach! Trappola’s skipping out on drills!” Just as you raised your voice to bring attention to your friend, the hair tie around your fingers snapped apart, turning into a piece of string. “Ack—wait!” you cursed.

The shrill sound of Vargas’ whistle pierced the air. “Trappola, enough dilly-dallying! You’re up. Spade, you’ll be after him!” 

“Ha, karma!” Ace laughed at you before hopping onto his broom and speeding off. 

“No! Argh!” You scowled, shoving the useless band into your pocket. Letting go of your hair, letting it tumble down your shoulders.

“I think y’deserved that, henchman.” Grim quipped.

You asked, “what do we do, Grim? Do we just go for it?”

“Just don’t start screaming at me again. Let’s go, let’s go! We’re gonna be left behind!” He pawed at the side of your leg, before bounding off in the direction that Ace and Deuce went in.

You leaned against your broom and carded a hand through your hair, then again and again. The repetitive motion seemed to do little for you and you ended up dropping onto your haunches, releasing a long shaky exhale. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, deciding to approach you.

“Oh crap, you saw that—” You straightened up. “Agh, I’m sor—I mean, who are you?”

He introduced himself as a second year in Scarabia, added that he was in the same club as Ace. At the mention of that, your initial trepidation dissipated. You also introduced yourself, the magicless student living with Grim in the formerly-abandoned dormitory.

“Your familiar made quite the appearance at the entrance ceremony,” he remarked. 

“Aah… Grim isn’t really my familiar,” you explained. “But he needs the credits, so… we’ve become sort of a package deal.” One of your free hands toyed with the ends of your hair. 

Jamil had to admit that he could somewhat empathize with your situation. Having to pick up after someone else, spending all of your time being responsible for another. It was the story of his life. “It seems like a handful.”

Which was a severe understatement, considering the bits and pieces of rumors surrounding you and the several times he’s seen you chasing after the catlike monster through the hallways. Said understatement elicited a laugh from you. “You should’ve seen us earlier.”

“Earlier?” He injected a practiced amount of obliviousness into his tone. 

“Ah, nevermind.” A loose lock of hair fell in front of your face as you rocked on the balls of your feet. “By the way, you wouldn’t happen to have either a spare hair tie or tips for controlling a broom, would you?”

He had a spare, always kept one on him. But not in the case that he misplaced them. The band of red had its improvised uses. “Why do you ask?”

“There’s only so much my understanding of theory can do for Grim. I’ve tried asking others, but I don’t…” You kicked at a patch of grass as you considered your next words. “...I don’t get it,” you admitted in a soft voice.

He could hazard a guess as to who you asked, and yet there wasn’t much he could do to help. Casting magic differed from individual to individual. For him, his own magic was almost indistinguishable from himself, it felt no different from moving a limb. One of his hands came up to his chin as he sank into thought. “You’d… lessen your chances of having an accident as long as you don’t pull up your broom. There’s no ceiling to stop you this time.” 

“Easier said than done, but thanks.” You gave an appreciative smile. The wind kicked up and your expression gave way to nervousness as you glanced up at the sky. “Fingers crossed I don’t fall and break all my bones.”

“Wait.” Jamil reached into his pocket and pulled out his spare hair tie. “This will also help.”

You fixed him with a suspicious look, but nonetheless accepted it. “This won’t break on me, will it?” He shook his head, no.

You looped the band once, twice, three times into a snug ponytail. “Oh, huh.” You ran the tip of your finger along the decorative feather.

“It’ll hold up better than Ace’s.” His lips curled into a knowing smile.

“...So you did see that!” You pointed accusingly at him, mortification painting your features. “You saw all of that!” 

Before Jamil could reply, the sharp sound of Vargas’ whistle piercing through the air followed by the sound of your name being called cut your conversation short. For a moment you looked unsure of what to prioritize, until you moved to grip your broom with your other hand. “I’ll give this back!” You called over your shoulder as you ran towards the practice course.

As soon as the class ended, he searched for Ace, managed to remind him about that afternoon’s meeting. To which the freshman responded with a casual ‘aight,’ before going to return the brooms. He supposed that the three of you would switch every now and then to be the one responsible for putting away all your brooms. 

Grim jumped onto your shoulder, climbed to perch atop your head to crow about his flying skills. You reached a hand up to scratch at the fire monster’s chin, calling his attention and quizzing him about the different ingredients needed for a Numbing Potion, the steps needed to prepare mandrake root, and… the correct method of handling poisonous ingredients? That wasn’t something brought up in Potions quizzes.

There’s a story behind that, probably. Before he could approach you though, Deuce turned your attention to his own notes. You squinted at the page, mumbling silently to yourself as you pieced together his solution. You sounded unsure as you explained the problem to the fellow first year.

At the sound of Ace’s voice saying that the both of you were wrong, Jamil withdrew. Okay, guess that means he shouldn’t disturb you and your friends.

He had other obligations to attend to anyways. He could just ask Ace to get it back for him during training. Of course, a part of him was irked at the thought of carelessly leaving his belongings with another person—a stranger, at that—but if he lingered on those thoughts, he’d end up nursing a migraine for the rest of the day.

He didn’t know it then, but that was the last time you addressed him casually. 

[...]

His good mood for the day ended with that Flight class. A pop quiz sprung on the class which mainly consisted of material from an advanced, optional reading. Don’t get him wrong, it wasn’t the spontaneity nor the class’s collective low scores that irked him, rather the teacher’s disappointment in said results which added insult to injury. Following that, his next class, a research paper comprising a quarter of his final grade was assigned and made into a group project. Which he didn’t see the need for, it was just a vocal majority of the class wanting to coast by without exerting much effort.

 Look on the bright side, he reminded himself with a copious amount of sarcasm, there were no pressing emergencies so far today. But then again, that could’ve been a problem in itself. Call him paranoid, but the times where Kalim has tried and failed to solve his own problems were too numerous to keep count of.

“How were your classes?” Kalim asked.

“They were alright, nothing noteworthy,” he replied with a shrug as he took Kalim’s things. “Did you turn in the student information sheets to the Headmaster?”

Kalim pressed a hand against his temple, the bracelet adorning his wrist clinking with the movement. “Oh, I almost forgot about that. I still need to collect them from the first and second years.” 

He supposed he could afford to leave club early for this. “I’ll make sure to do that after club, then.” While this would hurt his chances of being picked for the starting lineup, dorm responsibilities always came first. The reminder did little to calm the bit of annoyance flaring up inside him though. 

Kalim’s expression shifted into one of concern. "You don't have to, I can do it after my classes." 

"There's going to be a meeting for the dorm leaders later today though.”

"Then I could just do it after that—oh! Or we could do it now," he suggested brightly.

“No.” Jamil could feel the startings of a headache above his left eye. “You’re not skipping lunch for this.”

The sound of idle conversation and students milling about grew louder the closer they reached the cafeteria. The queue for the buffet was almost long enough to snake around the perimeter of the room. At least he had the foresight to pack lunch, that only left the challenge of finding free seats for the both of them. Jamil’s hand tugged at the collar of his hoodie. Or maybe they could eat at the courtyard, the weather outside seemed fine—

“Hey, is it alright if me and my friend sit at this table?” Spoken too soon.

At least, there was a familiar face.

“Sure, knock yourselves out. ” Ace replied, giving a casual wave.

“Thanks!” The both of them took the seats across from your friend group. 

His clubmate sat between you and an empty seat. You were resting your head on your folded arms, asleep. Judging by the lack of trays, Deuce and Grim were probably somewhere in the line getting food.

“We’re back!” Speak of the devil. 

The other Heartslabyul freshman carried two trays, and passed one of them to Ace, while a third one hovered just behind him. Grim leapt onto the table, looking awfully pleased with himself. Another round of quick introductions were made. Jamil learned that this was apparently a regular occurrence when you had multiple quizzes to take during the day.

“Wake up, I got us food!” The levitating tray fell onto the table with a clatter. But you didn’t stir at the sound. The monster padded closer to you, pawed at the exposed part of your face. “I got only the best morsels for my henchman!”

“Did he get into a fight?” Ace looked up from his meal, at Deuce’s sheepish expression he grimaced. “The both of you? Jeez, they’re gonna be in for a rude awakening.”

“I tried stopping him…” 

“They got a taste of my fiery wrath, mwahaha!” Grim ignored the way that the other two tried to shush him. “Ooh, what’s that?”

“Hm, this?” Kalim pointed at his lunch. “Wanna try some? It’s really good.”

With wide curious eyes, Grim moved closer. “Don’t mind if I do—hey! What gives?”

Jamil held out a hand to block the fire-monster from taking a straight out bite of the food being offered to him. “Don’t just give away your lunch like that, I only made enough for you.” 

Before the dorm leader could protest, an upbeat guitar instrumental started playing. You slowly sat up and turned the alarm off before it could repeat. One of your hands wiped at your face. There were imprints marking your forehead and the side of your cheek from your uniform’s sleeves. Underneath your elbows, an Alchemy textbook was being used as a makeshift pillow.

“Henchmaaan, this guy’s tryna starve me!”

“Don’t listen to ‘im, he wants to eat someone else’s food.”

“It’s really fine, I don’t mind sharing!” 

“Kalim, are you even listening to me—”

You blinked owlishly at each of them, the gears in your head slowly turning as you took in the situation. “Um, who…what?”

In those few seconds, Grim took his chance, lunging to snatch a piece of meat from Kalim’s unguarded lunchbox, cackling to himself as he bounded to your side.

You were still fighting off your drowsiness, the two first-years were telling Grim off and apologizing to the dorm leader while said thief showed zero remorse, and Kalim laughed brightly with amusement. Whether it was pointed at himself or at your friend group tripping over each other, or some mix of both, it was his go-to reaction to everything. Especially in the face of nuisances.

 Jamil massaged the bridge of his nose in an effort to stave off the returning headache. Why did he even bother? He set aside a portion of his own lunch, giving it to Kalim. “Here.” 

“Thanks, Jamil!” God, Kalim’s persistent optimism was painful to look at.

He didn’t respond, only tugging his hood up and keeping his attention pointed at his lunch.

The only good thing about eating in the cafeteria was that the ambient noise was more than enough to make up for any awkward pauses in the conversation. Unless you were in the company of someone who never ran out of things to say.

“Hey, I just noticed that you’re wearing the same thing as Jamil.” Like right now.

Keeping a neutral expression plastered on his face, he stole a subtle glance at you—you were poring over a section in the textbook with Deuce, who leaned over to get a clearer look, to Ace’s chagrin—the red gem adorning the hair tie gleamed, standing out against the curls of your ponytail. The three of you looked up, pausing the last-minute review.

“Oh, I always keep my hair tied—” you started to answer before your eyes widened in realization. Hooking a finger around the band, you freed your unruly hair from its hold and reached to offer it back to Jamil. “I’m sorry, I was too focused on our next class—”

“But we’re going to have to change into our lab coats later. For the practical quiz?” Deuce reminded you, passing the empty lunch trays to Ace.

You clapped a hand, the one that was holding his hair tie, against your forehead. A loud curse fell from your lips. “Ah…I forgot about that too…”

“It’s alright, you can keep using it.” The practiced response was basically muscle memory for him at this point. An automatic impulse to placate, to never rock the boat.

“Are you sure?” A concerned, almost guilty expression washed over your features. That sight, combined with the loose locks of hair framing the sides of your face, was…hard to look at for some reason.

Making a noncommittal sound, he busied himself with putting away his used utensils. “Just come by Scarabia after classes end.” 

It wasn’t like he had anything important to do anyway.

[...]

Because of club meetings, you and Grim were the only ones visiting. You mentioned something about how the both of you still had yet to join a club, with the majority of cleaning up the Ramshackle dorm taking up your afterschool activities. But what was supposed to be a quick visit to the dorm ended up becoming a full tour of the place at Kalim’s insistence. He just had to find himself in the company of not just one, but two additional absent-minded individuals. 

He should just ask for it back, get it over with—

“Oh, would you like to have some snacks? My family sent over a few boxes of baklava to share.”

“Baklava? What’s that?” Grim’s tail flicked back and forth.

The moment he resolved one problem, another one would spring up. “...Sure, I’ll handle it.”

“Thanks Jamil,” Kalim said, before turning to Grim. “You haven’t tried it before? It’s really yummy.”

“But what is it?” The sound of conversation faded behind Jamil as he went to the kitchen.

Pressing the heels of his palms to his eye sockets, he allowed himself a scant few seconds of letting the frustration wash over him before composing himself. Filling the kettle with water and setting it on the stove to boil, then pulling out the needed number of plates and a platter to serve the pastries on, tasting for poison…

He remembered how Grim gorged himself on most of the food he brought for you during lunch. For once, there was a silver lining to the lavish amount that was gifted by Kalim’s parents.

He’s much calmer by the time he leaves the kitchen, effortlessly balancing the trays of food and bringing them to the common area.

“Ooh, that does look yummy.” Grim appraises after giving his serving of baklava a cursory sniff. “I’m diggin’ in!” He raised his fork to take a large bite of the dessert. 

Jamil learned that the fire-monster’s paws were capable of some dexterity the more he watched Grim eat.

“What do you think? Eat as much as you like, my family sent lots! Jamil, have some!” Kalim held up a forkful.

Jamil acquiesced, pausing in his task of serving tea. The flaky pastry combined with the flavor of honey and pistachio was a welcome sweetness. “It’s good to eat.”

“‘Good to eat’? This is delicious, henchman, I demand another!” Grim held up his empty plate.

“What’s the magic word?” you asked, holding the refilled plate away from Grim. 

“Now, please!” The response pulled a short laugh from your throat, more amused than exasperated. You chided him for taking such large bites.

Kalim explained, “oh, he actually means that there’s no poison in the food.”

The both of you looked at him, then at Jamil. “...Poison?”

The dorm leader waved a dismissive hand. “It’s kind of why I only eat Jamil’s cooking.” 

Your expression was unreadable as you took in Kalim’s words. Throughout the tour, whenever Kalim would mention something about his home life, about Scarabia, you would glance over at Jamil for just a fraction of a second before going back to the conversation at hand.

So he was caught. More than being the vice dorm leader, more than being his so-called ‘friend,’ his presence around Kalim was a job, and it was one that he performed strictly out of duty.

“Ah, sorry for bringing the mood down. But you don’t need to worry about us!” Kalim reassured you. “Would you like something else?”

“No, no it’s okay.” You mustered a polite smile. “I um…think I’d like some more tea.”

“Sure!” He accepted your cup, refilling it to the brim. Ignoring Jamil’s insistence to do it for him.

It wasn’t like the attempts made on his life put a dent in his naivete, Jamil thought to himself. He set another piece of baklava on his plate and took a bite, this one was walnut-flavored. Sure, there was the occasional moment where Kalim suffered from leftover nausea after recovering from poisoning, but he always bounced back. 

The light conversation started back up, eventually. But you still wore that pensive expression, carding your fingers through the end of your ponytail as you listened to the conversation in front of you.

“I’ll start cleaning up.” Jamil stood up from his seat to take the used dishes and empty teapot. His initial estimate proved to be right, seeing as how there were no leftovers for him to dispose of.

“I’d like to help!” You stood up, somehow managing to neatly stack your plate and fork with Grim’s while holding your cups in your other hand.

“Just leave it to me,” Jamil reached forward to accept it from you before you took a step back. “What are you doing?”

“You… can’t take it from me if I take it to the kitchen first!” Your words spilled out in a rush before you dashed away.

You didn’t even know where anything was—just how were you planning on doing that?

“Kalim!” He scowled as the dorm leader took the teapot from the tray and followed after you.

“I’d like to help too!” he called back with a bright smile on his lips. The gesture sent a rush of irritation through Jamil. “The kitchen’s the other direction!”

He was expecting to hear the sound of shattered ceramic, another mess for him to clean up, but the sound of light-hearted laughter echoed in his ears.

“Mragh…do they really have to do this every time we visit someplace else…” Grim grumbled himself before hopping off the cushion.

By the time he arrived at the kitchen, you were halfway through washing the used dishes. The sleeves of your blazer were messily rolled up to your elbows. You were in the middle of talking about how your first few days at the Ramshackle dorm, how the ghosts were capable roommates despite their incorporeal form. It was almost like you barged into a family, but they were willing to accept you and Grim under their care, never mind the rocky start.

Though your voice and pleasant expression remained steady, the moment Kalim asked about your family, one of the teacups tumbled out of your hold and landed in the sink with a loud clatter. The noise shattered the warm atmosphere.

Jamil took that as his cue to guide Kalim out of the kitchen, which the latter reluctantly agreed to. Giving you a worried look just before he left.

“Please excuse him, Kalim didn’t mean to pry—”

You shook your head, at least you didn’t seem angry. “It’s funny, I can remember doing things like this with them.” You glanced at Jamil, then back to the running water before admitting quietly. “But I barely remember them, my family, my friends.”

“Don’t think about that, henchman. You have me now.” You stumbled as Grim leapt onto your shoulder, clambering up to the top of your head.

“...You’re right, I guess so.” The smile didn’t reach your eyes.

[...]

You stood in front of the mirror, head craned upwards to stare at the intricate frame. Your hands busied themselves with twisting and picking at your fingers. Since you were standing alone, Grim probably went on ahead at your request. 

Jamil decided to speak up, “forgetting something?”

Turning to the sound of his voice, your confused expression gave way to sheepishness as you noticed what was in his hand. It was the notebook you were carrying with you when you arrived at the dorm. “Oh shoot—” You quickly took it and flipped through the pages. “Sorry, where’d I leave it?”

“It was in the common area.” 

"Y’know, I think that place is more ‘pillows’ than lounge.’”

“You can thank the Asim Family for that.”

“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, just that lost ‘nd found spells got to have a limit or something.”

“Or you just get used to it.” He shrugged.

A part of him thought back to the brief conversation in the kitchen, the little admission you made. But you made no mention of it again, there wasn’t a trace of embarrassment, no hesitant request to forget about it. Your hand carded through your hair, brushing aside the short baby hairs, and through your ponytail. His eyes caught how your fingers grazed against the ornamental feather attached to the hair tie. 

“You should start heading back to Ramshackle.”

“I know, I really should…but I still feel like I’m forgetting something.”

His hair tie. You were still wearing it, but at some point in today, you had completely, unwittingly accepted it as part of your person. He might just outright ask for it back, but instead, he asked you, “what are your classes for tomorrow?”

You blinked. “Um. I think I have five subjects? No, wait—”

“That should be History and Alchemy.” He counted on two fingers.

“—yeah. Uh, we get free study on Wednesdays so that leaves Animal Linguistics and Practical Magic.” Four fingers.

“And what do you have to pass for those subjects?” 

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Oh crap…what were we going to do tomorrow—there’s a quiz for History of Magic… two worksheets to pass for Alchemy homework, um…Oh! We’re going to have a report on a new chapter in Linguistics...” You listed the first three easily before trailing off to think.

“Nothing for Practical Magic?”

Your brow furrowed. “...I don’t think so?”

“No assigned readings? Practice quizzes? Group reports?” He listed a few more options. Mentioned anything but that band of red tying your hair and keeping it out of your face. With each shake of your head, he watched your expression sink deeper into contemplation.

“I think we just have a lecture for that day… Everything else is due next week.” You conceded after a few more seconds of racking your brain. “Ugh, it’s right at the tip of my tongue though. I really think I’m forgetting something.” You recounted the same number of requirements on your own hand, the index finger of your other hand bending your pinky.

His hand returned to his side. “You’re overthinking it.”

“Big words, coming from the Dorm of Overthinking.”

He couldn’t help the exasperated sigh. “Mindfulness and overthinking aren’t the same.”

“Are too—wait, now I know what I’m forgetting!” Well, it was fun while it lasted. He expected to see you reach upwards and undo your ponytail, to see your hair tumble messily over your shoulders, to hear a quick goodbye. Normalcy was only two quick steps away, the distance between you and the mirror.

Instead, you folded your other fingers, holding up your pinky. “I’ll come over after classes to help you out.”

“Ha?” Your solution was to give yourself more to do?!

“Is-is that too much?” Your head tilted to the side, concern laced your tone.

Schooling his expression back into a neutral one, he backtracked, “no—I mean, don’t you have anything better to do?” With your free time? He left that last part unsaid.

“You’d have to be a fool not to admit that two sets of hands are better than one,” you reasoned.

It isn’t that simple, he wanted to say. If only your words could have undone the rigid duty that had dictated his entire life. But, what could he say to someone who was just as, if not more, stubborn than they appeared? It was too much of a hassle to deal with, he reasoned to himself.

He linked his pinky finger with yours. Made no mention of the way you tensed up at the contact and filed it away in his mind. “Very well, I’ll hold you to that.” 

“Cool.” A few more beats passed, your gaze darted from his face then to your joined hands. “...okay.” Your tone softened bashfully at that last word. With your head tilted downwards, as if adamantly turned away, more loose strands of your hair slipped from your ponytail. At least you weren’t able to see what his own expression looked like. He imagined brushing the hair aside and tucking it behind your ear.

Instead he drew back, pulling his hand away from yours and slipping it into his pocket. In this way, the residual heat from your hand wouldn’t dissipate as quickly. “Didn’t you say you had a test for History tomorrow?”

Breaking out of your reverie, you cursed and turned to the mirror. “You’re right, um… Sorry for overstaying my welcome, thank you for to—” The rest of your sentence cut off the moment you went through the portal. But he didn’t need to guess what you were trying to say. Your goodbye floated in the air, pleasant and warm, settling comfortably into his mind. 

He spared a glance outside. The sky was growing dark, a day consisted of 24 hours, and he wasn’t one to lose track of time. But a part of him swore that whatever happened that afternoon took place for longer than two hours. He stopped in his tracks, for once he wasn’t thinking two or three steps ahead for tomorrow and the day after.

Get it together, Jamil Viper. His facade as a retainer for the Asim family slipped back into place. First, he had to clean up the lounge, then prepare dinner. After that he needed to go over the recent chapter for Ancient Incantations, to help Kalim review for Defensive Magic. What could be prepared for breakfast and lunch tomorrow, he should ask if Kalim had any preferences. He counted each task on a finger, his mind seamlessly recalling what else needed to be done for tomorrow, for the party this weekend, and so on. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he didn’t take a look until late in the night, after he finished putting everything away and made his last checks around the dorm.

Unknown Number IM SORRY I FORGOT TO RETURN YOUR HAIR THINGY AAAAAA I can Run back and drop it off Or is it Too late??? Ahhh im really sorry See i KNEW i was forgetting something this whole time!!!

From the first message, he already knew who the sender was. Did you ask Ace for his number? He changed the name to yours and started typing a reply. Unbeknownst to him, an amused smile tugged at his lips.

Jamil It's fine, I already told you I have more than one. It isn't a bother. Red looks good on y|

What was he doing? The back of his neck grew warm with embarrassment. He erased that last message.

Just make sure you bring it with you tomorrow.

chapter 2: take my hand like you mean it chapter 3: you're afraid to believe it A/N: first id like to thank @jessamine-rose for her time and patience in dealin wid my shenaniganery as she beta'd this story. fic+chapter title credits to this song iykyk wink wonk idk what else to say other than strap in? get ready? this is overly self-indulgent? ill update the links when i get around to finishing pt. 2 (as of now im 1.2k words in) i hope this was fun to read haha i was being hounded with worms in the brain for this funny guy lmao (read: 🤧📢📢GAGO KA JAMIL HANGKYUT MO TALAGAAAAA) don't be afraid to rb and holler in da tags! i cherish each and every comment 💞💞

[fic--writer]

Instinctive Charm

If Instinctive Charm were a spell, and Rolan had asked Tav to teach him the art. But the only way to achieve focus remains primal passion.

Chapter 3: Whatever my teacher desires. (final chapter) ⚠️ NSFW, SMUT

— It was really crazy, but I feel better now. Thanks, Tav. But I still haven't figured out how to use it to concentrate. - The truth serum stopped working, and Rolan was no longer anxious when he spoke.

— It will definitely help you, but not right away. Give yourself time to get back on track, to recover from the shock. Learn to live with it. For now we'll try another method of concentration.

He looked at her blankly, got up from the improvised bed and began to study the scrolls on the table.

Tav decided it was time to move on to the next part. The pleasant part. She noticed his nervousness and informed him:

— No, we won't be poking around in your brain any more. At least not today. Just relax.

She stood up and walked towards him, fighting her own indecision, but knowing that it would be foolish to back out now. Especially since she wanted to complete the ritual and check how hot the tiefling's skin could be:

— I would like to ask you a question. A rather personal question. - Tav said quietly - Tell me... are you a virgin?

— What? I'm, uh... - The Master of Ramazite tower choked up for the second time that day. - You really didn't think so, did you? No, I haven't for a long time... But no, I'm not a virgin. - Tav's question stunned him. And foolishly, he began to leaf through the scrolls on the table, pretending to study the magic formulas.

— There are physical methods. Well, to wake you up and get you going, and also to appeal to your instincts. - She pointed to his groin with an indeterminate hand movement. - Now, let's get on with it. Is there any chance that I might be your type? I know the truth serum has worn off, but… Remember, you have to answer honestly, whatever the answer is, it won't upset me.

— I... you know, it's really personal,' Rolan blushed and slapped the air with his tail, but then he pulled himself together and blurted it out: - Of course you're my... type. How could anyone not like you? Look at you, the saviour of Baldur's Gate. But... Why do you even ask that? - He tried to pick up the pile of papers he had unfolded earlier, but only managed to drop a few sheets on the floor.

— I'm asking because it's part of our class, remember why we're here? - Tav continued, flicking a strand of hair back in her face, trying to hide her embarrassment - Because exercise can really help you. If you haven't had a vivid experience for a while, it's OK. Bad memories are in the past, life has settled down and taken its grey course, and the new bright moments are not yet upon you. We'll fix that. There are... There are activities other than tantrums and pillow fights that give you a burst of energy. And they also appeal to basic instinct. These 'practices' help the wizard to create and channel the energy for the spell.

Rolan felt his mind begin to draw all sorts of not-so-decent pictures. But he nodded understandingly and finally left the papers alone. After all, Tav had really helped him, and more than once.

— Good. - She playfully spread her legs to give him a better view of her thighs peeking out from under her skirt. - I ask because if you've been through this before, you know exactly how much energy it has.

— The procreative instinct? You mean the thought of offspring? But... - he replied, lowering his head and feeling the colour engulf him completely. He was still waiting for some hidden catch. The thought of Tav offering him something like that so easily couldn't take root in his mind. Still, who knew these sorceresses from the Charm school.

— Does every mating end in a pregnancy? No, when you're passionate about someone, when you want someone, strive to possess them, you don't think about offspring at that moment. You're just thinking about - desire. The desire for intimacy is nothing but the desire of flesh for flesh.

She was so close to him that he swallowed, feeling her warmth again. The Archmage could smell her scent, the one he had missed in his excitement. The scent of rich, warm caramel and violets. Each of her words was like an incantation, filled with intense attraction. Each part of the sorceress' speech was more enticing than the last. She began to whisper to him:

— And if you're not a virgin, you know exactly how it feels. You know how your heart starts racing when you smell the scent of the one you desire. You know how your breath hitches just thinking about it. How your hands start to shake and your tongue starts to slip when you're afraid of scaring her off and making a fool of yourself. The way your knees tremble, the way your forehead sweats. You know - she whispered provocatively into his pointed ear.

— Tav, I... - he stammered, unable to find the words to express his thoughts. No sooner had he risen from the ashes, from these ruins of his life, than life took a completely different turn.

She ran her tongue invitingly over his lobe and continued:

— You know how your blood rushes and you blush, you know how your throat dries up when you realise that the lustful intentions are mutual. You feel your pulse racing.

— Tav, if you don't stop now, I'll... - The tension between his desire and his mind was at its peak. It controlled him like a puppeteer controlling his marionette. Rolan clawed and clawed at the table. Of course he wanted her, but he still doubted the reality and rightness of what was happening.

Tav didn't think to stop. She ran her lips along his neck and placed her hands on his chest:

— You know the way your flesh heats up and your hands reach for your partner. You know the burning sensation that hides in the pit of your stomach. You know the sensual sounds you'll elicit from each other. You know the hurricane that will break out between you. You long to taste it on your tongue. You long to touch and penetrate every cell. - She nibbled at the skin of his red, freckled neck with her moist lips, making him moan.

— Zurgan! I won't be able to stop if you keep do this - he said with a heaviness in every word. He still hesitated. Could he take what he wanted so easily now? But there was not an ounce of falsehood in Tav's mouth. Her words sounded selfless. She wanted him?

— You know exactly how it is, Rolan. I think I made it clear. Leave all your secrets in my body. - She let out a moan of anticipation and unbuttoned his shirt, running her hand down a torso too pumped for a wizard. Every infernal ridge sent a ripple through her hand as she moved.

The next moment, Rolan pulled his hands from the table with force and moved them to her cheeks, pulling her to him for a passionate kiss. And finally closed her babbling, lewd mouth. His chaos erupted as the tension cracked.

— I tried to warn you, but you wouldn't listen. - He growled, no longer hiding his intentions. His tail wrapped around her legs with such force that she had to work harder to get free.

Tav started to answer, but Rolan cut her off by placing his hand on her chin and covering her mouth with his thumb, which she immediately licked.

— I tried to warn you. Now hush you! - the archmage said, enjoying the jam of her lips. Their searching tongues collided again and again. His hands slid boldly down her back, claws carving shallow scratches.

The room filled with moans, the sound of their breathing and the rustling of pages scattered across the floor. On which they now stomped, almost losing their balance, searching for a foothold.

Rolan lifted Tav in his arms and laid her carelessly, barbarically, on the cushions. The Tiefling piled on top of her, pressing her hard and unrestrained against him. Pulling off the top of her dress, he clung to Tav's chest, like for ice cream on a hot summer day.

In that dense oasis of intimacy, his hand slid down to her throbbing clit. Which he could feel even through her underwear. He moved frequently, his hot fingertips sending shivers down her insides. The tension building up inside him was both tantalising and terrifying.

She wriggled and whimpered beneath him, and the Archmage couldn't stand it any longer. After all, it was her own fault for turning him on like that. Now that she was a whimpering piece of plasticine in his hands, he pulled his trousers down and then ripped Tav's panties off. Her little black lecherous panties. If they consisted of more than a couple of strips of thin fabric, they would have a chance of staying intact.. Rolan looked at her questioningly and she nodded in agreement with a wicked smile.

— Don't be greedy. - Tav said almost pleadingly.

The Archmage pulled aside the ribbons of her skirt and saw the mischievous sheen of her wetness. It beckoned and fascinated him, and the Typhling went straight for her entrance. Her heat rushed to his cock and he entered. All the foolishness of the world and his mind faded away in this gruelling desire.

We are entwined. We are your core desire, your flesh. Souls and bodies collide with terrible heat. Forget the shame in common nature. Leave me to my sins.

Oh, nature's gift to the Tiefling. The velvety skin of his thick cock was adorned with infernal ridges. It moved rigidly to and fro in a wild animal rhythm, and there was no other way. Rolan held her hips with his tail, pressing her hungrily against him. Tav shivered and wriggled beneath him, savouring the heat of his body now in all her innermost places.

Tav literally felt every spark that Rolan shot out of her body. Every now and then a moan escaped her lips. She was on edge, but she couldn't let them climax for the sake of concentration. To get the tiefling's attention, she grabbed his hair, pulled him towards her and bit his lower lip, pulling away before letting go.

— Rolan now. Right now. - She murmured.

— What, you already? - he squeezed out the words, uncomprehending, mixed with deep, hoarse sounds from the bottom of his throat.

— No, I haven't! For now, focus and concentrate all your attention. Gather all the energy of that instinct and cast the spell. Direct it at me, there is no one else. - she found it hard to think and speak in this position, but what one would do for the sake of learning and science.

Rolan realised what she wanted from him, but it was not easy to interrupt such an intimate and exciting process. It was a challenge to remember the theory, the verbal and somatic components of the spell. With an effort of will, he gradually slowed his rhythm, regained his focus and control of the situation.

— Try it now, come on. Concentrate on the sensations. - Tav insisted.

The tower master breathed in the scent of her hair and closed his eyes. He concentrated on the sensation that filled his entire being. He made the necessary gestures, his fingers swirling in the air like snowflakes. Rolan tried to cast the spell again, focusing all his passion on the target. This time the magical energy flowed through him and he felt the spell begin to form.

His magic affects those around her, mesmerising them, bending their will and changing their beliefs.

A glowing aura appeared around Rolan and he directed the flow towards Tav. She, the target of the spell, began to move like a doll under the influence of an unseen force. At his command, she picked up the pillow and threw it aside.

— It worked! - Tav rejoiced as only a teacher can for his pupil. - You did it!

— I really did it! - the inspired Rolan laughed, baring his frequent fangs.

But the next moment, when he remembered the position they were in and how they'd got there, he was embarrassed, his yellow eyes rounded:

— We? I'm sorry if... - He started to get off her in a hurry.

— I have nothing to forgive you for. It's all right. I wouldn't do anything I didn't want to. - She stopped him by grabbing his arm. Tav threw her head back and looked up from underneath him, playfully nudging him with her hips - You know, we don't have to stop.

The Tiefling replied with a cheeky smile and a sizzling look:

— Faz'iam quodzum volu'rit dilectus me magizta. - He spoke in infernal and Tav had a moment of doubt about her proposal.

Seeing her confusion, Rolan hurried to translate:

— Whatever my teacher desires.

[neonscandal]

I have a slightly complex question a lot of people want megumi to be saved but does he want to be saved he lost his sister his teacher is in the depths of darkness and another will be that if he is saved he doesn't go crazy and fall like suguru because his motivation which was his sister died and so did his teacher. Thank you for answering my question.

Thank you for being kinda vague as I try to keep things as spoiler free as I can. I feel like at this point, my hypothesis for who makes it to endgame continues to shift but I think it's interesting that your question isn't will he live but, rather, does he want to.

⚠️ Spoiler warning through JJK chapter 236.

Empirically and, I think we can all agree, Megumi probably does not want to be saved. Less to do with the fate of Tsumiki and Gojo and more to do with the fact that... even before such things took place, Megumi was always ready to pull the ripcord. Megumi “Watch What These Hands Do” Fushiguro has been itching to summon Mahoraga since episode one without a chance of subjugating it. Always on the hunt for something to die for, it seemed.

But when you consider how increasingly dire his situation has become, it's hard to imagine him making a recovery even if he is liberated. Sukuna has blighted his soul, indelibly. His hands have killed Tsumiki and Gojo. His soul has absorbed the damage of Gojo's strongest attacks. Even before his body was highjacked, the Culling Games inspired unfathomable hopelessness which, of course, creates more curses and furthers the imbalance that sorcerers were already up against. But, moreover, with Sukuna at the helm, Megumi has also seen his beloved shikigami irrevocably corrupted. Could be a leap but... think of the throwback we saw of the white divine dog from when he was a kid. In Megumi's isolation, those shikigami probably provided some much needed comfort and now most of them are unrecognizable. Not even touching on the possible pride of each milestone as he mastered them.

This, to me, is one of the sadder spreads since Megumi's been possessed.

However, just because he may not wish to be saved doesn't mean he won't be. Gege Akutami has a penchant for anguish and there is an exquisite irony in Megumi being extricated despite this desire and bearing the burden of living, anyway.

Not sure there's a grand message in that from a narrative point of view but, if we think back to what we've learned about life after loss:

Last words/wishes/wills damn the living (Re: Yuta and Rika, Yuji's grandfather and Yuji, Nanami and Yuji, Miguel and Geto, Gojo and Geto)

According to Todo, one must not defile the memories of those lost by trying to find meaning. One must simply live on so those you are connected to are never truly defeated.

Almost feels like living is a punishment. And, again, looks like being good does nothing for you. It makes me question whether the series will actually end positively for remaining parties or not 😂

I feel like this realization bears an impact on how I see the series ending but wonder if the next chapter will cement my thoughts. I'd been thinking about Yuji's significance and Sukuna's refusal to acknowledge it for a while and the last chapter proved me right! I was so mad I hadn't written about it yet! 🙄