#it’s been a year since she passed away at the age of 36

[mistress-light]

Shit, man. I’d hoped i wouldn’t burst into tears but here I am. I miss my cousin so much….

[alltheirdamn]

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

Chap. 1 : Your Name

Series Summary: You've nursed a broken heart for two years. ‘Love’ felt like a foreign term, but maybe it wasn’t so far out of reach. Chap. 1 Summary: When you catch the eye of your students' dad at a school dance, he starts showing up everywhere. Rating: 18+ MDNI (for the future smut) Word Count: 6.8k Warnings: pre-outbreak AU, age gap (joel is 36 reader is 27), no smut (yet), sexual tension, flirting, pining, mentions of alcohol, language, angst, reader's last name is 'Smith' for no other purpose than the fact she is a teacher A/N: This will definitely be a slow-burn fic, so please hang tight!! Tropes include: second chance at love, strangers to lovers, secret relationship, etc. I'm actually so excited about this one, so I hope you guys stick around to see where it goes :')

Masterlist

PROLOGUE

You never thought you’d be the girl sitting at the steps of an abandoned altar with your wedding dress covered in mud from the rain.

 Just minutes before you were supposed to take your first steps down the aisle, your fiancé fled. You watched the blur of his suit in the distance as he ran through the rain and left your family and friends in shock. Motionless at the back of the rows of chairs, you dropped your bouquet and stood in heartbreaking silence as the cords of the violins faded into the air. Your parents and siblings swarmed around you, trying to break the paralysis that kept your eyes locked on the vacant spot under the archway and steps of what would have been the place you said your vows. You still had them in your hand; the words scribbled neatly on a folded paper torn from your journal. You’d never get the chance to say those words aloud; he never would have deserved them, anyway. 

The ring sat heavily on your finger now as you watched it glisten under the pelting rain. Your dress clung to your body in layers of silk and lace, a taunting reminder of who you had become for a man unworthy of your love and devotion. 

Five years together, all stripped away in a matter of minutes. 

You’d never love again. 

“Everyone’s gotta do it,” Maria sighed as she stood at the student drop-off with you.

By ‘it,’ she meant chaperoning the father-daughter dance later in the week, which you seriously wanted no part of. You had been through enough school dances in your three years working at the middle school, and you were tired of watching pre-teens grinding on each other to god-awful music. You had better things to do with your Friday nights, like sitting on the couch with a pint of ice cream and a horror movie playing in the background—you’d sworn off rom-coms long ago.

“Yeah, I know,” you grumbled, waving another line of kids across the road. 

You watched as they trudged across the crosswalk with their backpacks slung over their shoulders, eyes bright and broad at the realization school was over for the day. If only they were that chipper in class, maybe you’d have an easier time teaching them how to write three-point essays. 

Maria chirped goodbye to each one as they passed, her cheeks pinched with a fake smile only you could recognize. You knew she loved the kids but loved the final school bell even more. You, on the other hand, hated it. The end of school was just another reminder that you’d go back to an empty home and an empty life. 

Two years had passed since Bennett ran from your wedding ceremony—two years without closure or an answer. By the time you had pieced yourself together and returned home from the would-have-been ceremony, his things were gone, and the house filled with the ghost of his presence. Your in-laws went radio silent, avoiding all calls and emails from you until they eventually moved out of state and changed numbers. The hours leading up to the ceremony would forever be a mystery as to why he left, and you would spend the rest of your life fighting for an answer as to why you weren’t good enough to love. 

Dragging you from your thoughts, Maria bumped you with her hip, giving you a concerned look. You shook away the memories and returned her stare with a fake smile you had mastered over the last two years. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had genuinely smiled or laughed without feeling the force of a facade washing over you. Concealing the pain of it all made it easier; maybe if you believed you were okay, you’d start feeling okay. But you never did. Not even the countless hours of therapy had helped reconcile the person you once were. Bennett had left and taken every vulnerable part of you with him, leaving nothing but a raw and broken shell in his wake. 

“You’re doing it again,” Maria scolded. 

“Doing what?” You asked, already aware of the answer.

“Wallowing. You really should get back out there again.”

You focused on the next grouping of kids setting out to cross the street, your hand instinctively coming up to hold the passing cars at a standstill. You plastered on a fake smile as they waved goodbye to you, and you glanced back at Maria once they finally stepped foot on the next sidewalk.

“I’m not interested,” you stated. “I’m fine on my own.”

Her eyebrow lifted as if challenging your blasé response. Your answer always remained the same, yet Maria relentlessly attempted to change your mind.

“You’ve got to at least try. What if there’s already someone out there just waiting for you?”

“Maria, I promise no one is waiting for me.”

“I wish you’d just give it a shot. You deserve to be happy.”

You had heard that phrase often over the last couple of years; a pitying tone always accompanied the words. People loved to soothe you with words that held no weight or purpose. You learned to nod along to their sympathies and turn a deaf ear to their suggestions of what you deserved. 

The final round of kids made their way toward the line of parents waiting in their cars, and you followed Maria back to your classrooms to clean up before leaving for the day. Her words stuck with you on the quiet drive home; the radio wasn’t enough to drown out that taunting voice in your head reminding you that you’d never be enough. 

Your single-story house was nestled into an older neighborhood of Austin, only a handful of miles from the middle school. You’d argue that the house was the best thing to come out of the failed engagement; its personality stood firm against the other houses with a vibrant shade of blue painted over its wooden panels and wrap-around porch. You spent the last few months sprucing up the front yard, planting rose bushes and trees to liven up the house. It hadn’t fixed all your problems but pacified them temporarily as you dirtied your hands in the soil. 

It became second nature to shut your garage immediately after putting your car in park. You didn’t want the typical neighborly interactions or shallow conversations. You were content with living between closed doors and drawn curtains. The less of an interaction with the world, the better. 

Dropping your purse and work bag on the kitchen counter, you sunk onto a barstool, staring blankly at the fridge and knowing all too well there was hardly anything inside it. You’d settle for another frozen meal and glass of wine, a typical meal these days to satisfy a hunger you no longer had. Despite the colorful kitchen cabinets, the mustard yellow couch in the living room, and the obscure wallpaper…your life was dull. How could one person suck out all the energy from another human being? How could pain last this long? 

You stabbed a fork into the TV dinner meal before you and wondered if you’d ever feel happy again. 

**

You managed to survive another week of teaching, only to now be standing in the shadows of the school gymnasium, nursing an overly sweet fruit punch. The PTA had done a decent job of turning the space into a somewhat realistic dance floor: string lights hung corner to corner of the ceiling, a DJ booth in the center of the basketball court, and colorful balloons circled the air. You spotted a few of your students dancing with their fathers, their eyes squeezed shut from their too-wide smiles and bubbling laughter. A foreign ache in your chest reminded you how you would have had a father-daughter dance at your wedding. Your father even took it upon himself to brush up on dance lessons to sway you across the floor to some overly emotional song. As corny as it was, you had been looking forward to that moment throughout your engagement. 

“Look who got all dolled up!” Maria hollered as she strolled over, fruit punch in hand.

“I would hardly call this dolled up,” you said, tugging at the hem of your dress.

You only had a handful of dresses in your closet, this particular one being a flowy black cocktail dress with a halter top and ruffled skirt. It was barely passing the school dress code, so you decided to pair it with a low kitten heel to try and deter the admin’s scrutiny. You did, however, spend a little more time than usual on your makeup and hair, hoping if you looked pretty, then maybe you’d feel it, too.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Maria sighed.

“You look great,” you said, sidestepping her lecture.

Maria had chosen a plum floor-length maxi dress decorated with embroidered blue flowers. Her curly hair was pinned in a bun, and several sparkly barrettes were clipped to the side. Her makeup was no different from usual: a rosy red lip and simple mascara with a hint of blush on her cheeks. 

“Really, Maria. You do.”

“Well, thank you,” she blushed, looking back toward the room full of bodies dancing.

Your eyes followed hers, settling on the duos as they swayed to a slow song. Every father was dressed up in some sort of button-up or the occasional suit except for one—the same one who happened to be twirling around your student, Sarah Miller. You nudged Maria, pointing secretly at them with a questioning glance.

“Is that her dad?” You asked.

He wore a basic cotton T-shirt, jeans, and dirty work boots. There was barely any thought behind his appearance as if he had rolled up to the school right after a long shift at work, forgoing any effort or care. Some part of you hated him for it. The least he could do was get dressed up for a silly school dance, especially when Sarah wore a lavender tulle dress that complimented her olive skin tone. 

“Yup,” Maria elongated the word. “That’s Joel Miller.”

“Sure looks like he doesn’t care to be here,” you grumbled.

Maria barked a laugh, looking at you through narrowed eyes.

“As opposed to you?” She questioned. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t you bitching about this dance all week long?”

“Well, at least I put some effort into my looks tonight,” you defended.

You glanced back at Sarah, seeing her father twirl her one last time. You caught a glimpse of his face for the first time in the flow of his movements. Messy dark curls framed his head, curling in every which way as if he’d run his hand through them a million times. Even from a distance, you could see the patchy beard and short mustache covering the lower half of his face, alongside the several creases around his eyes as he smiled.  And his eyes… They looked like big brown saucers under the lights, reflecting a genuine softness as he watched his daughter dance. 

And then they snapped up to meet your gaze through the crowd as if you had silently called out to him. Everything slowed around you for a moment as he studied you from afar, his eyes drifting down your body and back up with a hint of a smile teasing his lips. A rush of heat crawled up your neck, and you broke the eye contact between you. Maria cleared her throat beside you, tearing you away from the man holding your sincere interest. 

“What was that?” Maria chirped. 

You shook your head, glancing between her curious face and the dancefloor. Joel had since moved on, steering Sarah toward the refreshment table. He never once looked back at you, which left you unexplainably disappointed. For a moment in time, someone looked at you and saw you. 

“I–I don’t know,” you stuttered. “Probably nothing.”

“It looked like something.”

You turned to face Maria, a scowl twisting up your lips entirely. You were tired of her pushing nonexistent things on you, and that’s what this was— nonexistent. Whatever moment between you and Joel had gone as quickly as it came. You were done with the night and standing among so many cheerful people. You couldn’t stand it any longer. 

“I think I’m going to take off,” you announced, placing your half-drunk fruit punch on the table behind you. 

Maria was defeated, knowing you'd still leave no matter what she said. Stalking out of the gymnasium, you grabbed your purse from the teacher's booth and booked it to your car with your heels in your hands. You carefully walked along the sidewalk toward your car, catching a conversation drifting through the wind between the other vehicles. 

“...Dad, you promised we’d watch movies tomorrow!”

“I know, sweetheart, but Uncle Tommy needs help on the job sight.”

You hid between two cars, listening to their voices bounce back and forth. It wasn’t until you peeked out to see the two figures that you realized it was Sarah and her father, Joel. For fucks sake. You tiptoed around the car's bumper beside you, attempting to make a getaway before either of them saw you. You must have done a terrible job because Sarah called your name as you edged closer to your car.

“Miss Smith!”

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself. 

With your purse in one hand and heels in the other, you turned toward them with your rehearsed fake smile. Sarah was standing beside her dad—Joel—a small smile shining up at you. You knew her usual upbeat personality in class, always laughing and joking with other kids. She was an A+ student, too, and her work showcased her smartness. But in her father's shadow, a distinct sadness clouded her eyes. 

“Hello, Sarah! How did you like the dance?” You asked. 

“It was really fun,” she grinned, forcing her smile wider. You saw through it. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Joel cleared his throat, extending a large hand toward you. You blinked at his open palm, afraid of making that same startling eye contact as you had in the gymnasium. Shuffling your purse into your other hand, you took his into yours, focusing on the warmth of his grip crawling up your skin. His fingers dwarfed your own, tightening around your hand until you were forced to look up finally. 

“S’nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Smith,” he said, his thick Southern accent shining through.

“Miss Smith,” you corrected. It was hard to hide the bitterness in the statement. 

“Miss Smith,” he echoed. “I’m Joel, Sarah’s dad.”

His eyes still hadn’t left yours, their piercing stare making you shiver despite the September humidity. You pulled your hand away, overly aware of how his fingers lingered a moment too long. Shifting your weight from one leg to another, you were starting to feel the asphalt dig into the soles of your feet. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Miller,” you replied.

“Joel,” he insisted.

You nodded politely, giving him another faltering smile. Hauling your purse over your shoulder, you said a soft goodbye to them and bolted to your car. In the confines of the driver's seat, you rested your head against the wheel, inhaling deeply as you steadied the nerves inside your body. Why did such a simple interaction light up your body with emotions you had spent so long suppressing? And why did Joel’s smile haunt you even when your eyes were shut?

Forcing your keys into the ignition, you tore out of the school parking lot and back to the confines of your tiny blue home. 

The weekends were usually filled with nothing more than grading papers and lesson planning. The coffee beside you on the kitchen counter had gone cold hours ago as the morning sunlight faded into the afternoon. Through tired eyes, you glanced up at the oven clock: 2 pm. You needed a break from reading through piles of essays, and your fridge desperately required replenishing. Grabbing your keys off the counter, you forfeited any plans of changing out of your sweat set and headed to the supermarket.

The packed parking lot and crowded store were daunting reminders of why you typically decided to leave your fridge vacant. But as you pushed your shopping cart down each aisle, you had no choice but to comply with your basic human needs and stock up on miscellaneous food you would want throughout the week. Rounding down the next aisle, your eyes caught on a tall figure standing in front of the bakery section, his face scrutinizing every cake in the display case. Shit. 

You tried—and failed—to maneuver your way into the next aisle, somehow crashing into an older woman’s cart, forcing her carton of eggs to fall and smash onto the linoleum floor.

“Dammit,” you hissed, crouching down to try and help them clean up the shattered eggshells.

“S’alright, sweetheart,” she assured. “I’ll just holler for a worker to come clean it up.”

“No, I—I can help,” you stammered, fingers still running over the broken yolks spreading across the floor.

“Miss Smith?” You heard a deep voice above you.

Your head snapped up to see Joel standing above you; his forehead creased with concern. The woman you had crashed into was already down the next aisle looking for a store employee, leaving you alone with a mess you had caused. Joel crouched beside you, his hands folding over yours to slow your frantic cleaning.

“It’s alright, I got it!” You snapped, pulling your hands back.

“Just tryna’ help,” he said. “That’s all.”

“It’s my fault. I can fix it.” 

You had said those words to yourself many times before, and never once did they prove true. 

“Someone will come and clean this up; you ain’t gotta do all that,” Joel said softly. “C’mon.”

He offered a hand, which you took reluctantly, leaving you both standing awkwardly in front of the mess. You shifted your gaze downward, too afraid to meet those deep brown eyes that had plagued you the night before. 

“Hey,” Joel said in a soft tone. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

You huffed a sigh, gripping the handles of your cart to start moving. Today was going downhill rapidly, and you only wanted to go home and hole yourself away…like you always did.

“I, uh, was tryna’ pick out a birthday cake,” he rambled. “S’my birthday tomorrow, and Sarah wants to make sure I have a cake, ya’know? Any ideas on what she might like? I’m not sure if y’all ever have parties at school with sweets and all that.”

Your eyes snapped to his, a scowl forming on your face. Sarah’s dad was asking you what she liked? He was proving to be worse and worse by the second. But you were her teacher and needed to hold your tongue.

“I’m sure she’ll enjoy anything,” you said, a tight smile forming. “Happy birthday, Mr. Miller.”

His eyebrows furrowed together, clearly seeing through the mask you put on. It was infuriating how easily he had wove his way through your bloodstream, even in just twenty-four hours. 

“Joel,” he insisted. “You don’t need to do all that formal stuff.”

“I kind of do,” you laughed. “You’re my students’ father; that’s how I’m supposed to address you.”

“S’all I’m sayin’ is that you’re free to call me Joel. No harm in it.”

There was a lot of harm in it. 

You didn’t know what else to say, so you dipped your head to say goodbye and pushed your cart past him. You weren’t being the kindest nor the most respectful person, but your anger was at a low simmer. Any longer around him, and you might explode. You weren’t used to someone getting under your skin like he was. And the worst part was that he wasn’t even trying. You couldn’t understand why you reacted so strongly. 

“Miss Smith!” Joel called, catching up as you moved down the next aisle.

You inhaled and stopped walking, mustering another fake smile to appease him. He gripped the side of your cart with a large hand, a simple gesture to keep you firmly in place. Clearly, he decided when the conversation was over.

“Yes, Mr. Miller?”

“Did I do somethin’ to upset you? ‘Cause I swear, I didn’t mean anything inappropriate by what I said back there. 

“No, no, you’re fine,” you lied. “Just having a bad day, that's all.” That wasn’t a lie.

Joel ran a hand over his neck, studying you quietly for a moment. Something about the atmosphere around him was intoxicating and so fucking dangerous. 

“Well, I’m sorry ‘bout that. Guess I was just tryna’ make small talk, and clearly, I ain’t doin’ a good job.”

“It’s fine—no need for apologies. I hope the cake and birthday celebration go well. I’m sure Sarah will tell me all about it on Monday.”

His eyes shifted over you again, lingering on your lips, set in a firm smile. You tried your best to hide the shiver that ran up your back as he drank you in. 

“Y’probably think I’m a terrible dad, huh?” He sighed.

“What?” You blinked away the thoughts swarming your head.

“I mean, I know you probably heard us arguin’ last night, and I’m out here asking her teacher what her favorite kind of cake is. You ain’t gotta be polite about it. I know I’m not doin’ the best job,” he confessed.

“Mr. Miller, I don’t think that at all. I just think maybe asking your wife would be more helpful than asking me.”

That garnered a laugh from him, a genuine and sincere laugh.

“Never had a wife to begin with. Sarah’s mom left us when she was only a year old,” he explained. “Been doin’ it all on my own.”

“Oh.” Dammit, you really were a bitch. 

“Trust me, I get it. I could do a better job, bein’ a dad and all that. I’m tryin’.”

“I think you’re doing just fine,” you said. “I’m sorry I didn’t know.”

He brushed it off, replacing the sad look cresting his eyes with a lopsided grin. You wanted to hate it, but your body reacted traitorously. You felt the softness in his gaze crawl over you, slowly replacing the anger coursing through your veins with something else…something you hadn’t felt in a long time. No one had looked at you that way since—well, since Bennett. Even if Joel was only being friendly, you were drawn to the charm he exuded. Dangerous, you reminded yourself.

“Anyway,” he continued. “I won’t hold ya’ up any longer. I hope your day gets better, Miss Smith.”

“Thank you,” you replied. “And Happy birthday, again.”

Joel’s eyes settled on your lips again as you talked, and you felt your cheeks warm under his gaze. His eyes flicked back up to yours, a flash of something behind them, and you were ready to bolt. He muttered a thank you and left you standing in a vacant aisle, your hands still covered in egg yolks and your mind reeling.

It was hard to maintain your good mood once Monday rolled around. Seeing Sarah sitting in class was an unwelcome reminder of your interaction with Joel on Saturday, and you had to refrain from overstepping boundaries and asking about his birthday. She didn’t need to know you cared, even though you struggled not to care. You wondered what kind of cake he decided on, how old he turned if he blushed when she sang Happy Birthday. Every thought burned a hole in your head that you tried to patch up and forget. 

The final bell rang for the day, and the kids began to pack up in a rush. You straightened out the papers lining your desk, avoiding eye contact with Sarah as she slung her backpack over her shoulders and lined up to leave. Grabbing your whistle and bottle of water, you followed them toward the front gates, taking your usual place alongside Maria—who was overly chipper for a Monday.

“Soooo,” she prodded. “How was your weekend?”

“Uneventful,” you lied, walking with her to the crosswalk. 

“You really need to go out and have fun! You’re young, and you need to enjoy your 20s!” She exasperated. 

“Maria, I’m 27,” you groaned. “My 20s are practically over.”

She folded her arms over her chest, leveling you with a heavy glare. Maria was in her late 40’s and clearly exuded a motherly-type attitude. You shifted your focus to the kids crossing the road, watching as they reunited with their parents. 

“We go out on Wednesdays for Happy Hour! Join us this week,” she suggested.

“I don’t know,” you sighed.

“Come on!” Maria pressed. “If you hate it, I’ll never ask you to go out with us again.”

There was no point in arguing with her, so you relented and agreed to one night out. A few drinks and hours of mindless conversation could be good for you. It would be better than sitting in front of the TV with a bland meal and another glass of wine.

You managed to evade all thoughts of Joel somehow the next two days, putting all your time and energy into prepping your students for their first test of the year. Lesson planning and preparation took up your free period and late evenings, leaving you little room to think about those brown eyes and disarming smile. It was Wednesday evening, and you were knee-deep in your closet, trying to find an outfit for Happy Hour. You had changed at least five times, discarding every top and skirt onto your bedroom floor. Eventually, you gave up, settling on tight jeans, a flowy red blouse, and black flats. You left your hair in wavy curls over your shoulders and simple makeup to balance everything out. 

The group took their Happy Hour rituals to a local dive bar on the outskirts of town, a row of motorcycles and trucks lining the entrance. You felt a bit out of place walking into a smoke-hazed bar, with the patron's wandering eyes crawling over you, but you quickly picked out the huddle of teachers in the corner laughing over a round of beers. They welcomed you with bright smiles and hellos, offering to buy your first drink. After about an hour and a few drinks, you felt warm and far more relaxed. Conversations about quarterly goals and admin meetings flowed over the table, each teacher complaining about something. You chimed in when necessary, keeping quiet when you had nothing to contribute. You were on your fourth beer when the girls around you started whispering low about a group of men entering the bar. You stole a peek over your shoulder, eyes settling on the last person you wanted to see. 

Joel Miller.

He had on his usual simple work attire, the fabric of his cotton shirt stretched out over his broad chest. His neck was tanned, most likely from working outdoors, and his hair was just as unruly as you remembered. The man beside him, shorter but with similar features, clapped Joel on the back and steered him towards the bar. You lowered your head, taking a longer gulp of your drink to try and steady your nerves. Of all fucking places, he had to be here. 

“He’s just so handsome, isn’t he?” Maria nudged you, tossing back a look towards Joel.

You shrugged, feigning disinterest. Joel was handsome, but no one needed to know how you felt. Because what you felt was very, very confusing. 

“He’s my students’ father, Maria.”

She rolled her eyes, swirling the contents of her drinks before taking a sip. 

“Okay, and? There’s nothing inappropriate about dating a student’s parent.”

“Yes, there is,” you snapped. “And I’m not even considering dating him.”

“But you think he’s attractive,” she stated.

You didn’t want to respond to that, knowing the warmth in your cheeks was already enough of a giveaway. If you shrunk far enough into yourself, you might go unrecognized the rest of the night.

Maria thankfully dropped the subject, returning to the conversation around the table. After another hour, the ladies started to trickle out of the bar and home for the night. You, on the other hand, still had to wait a bit longer until the alcohol phased out of your body. Which meant you were sitting alone in the same space as Joel. You could feel his eyes on your back the longer you sat there, and to your detriment, decided to steal a glance over your shoulder. Joel’s eyes raked over your body, returning your stare with a soft, welcoming smile. Shit.

You watched as he slipped off the barstool, waltzing towards you with a beer clasped in his large hand. You tried so hard not to notice his thick fingers wrapped around the bottle, and you most definitely tried not to think of what his fingers would feel like inside—

“Miss Smith,” he greeted, silencing your awful thoughts.

“Mr. Miller,” you said.

“Are all these formalities necessary in a bar?” he teased. 

“A couple of drinks won’t change my mind.”

Joel slid into the seat beside you without an invitation, his arm brushing against yours as he settled into the stool. It was instinct to flinch away, afraid of the reaction his touch would cause to your body. 

“What will change your mind?” he pressed, keeping a steady gaze on you.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, deciding to change the subject. “How was your birthday?”

Joel ran a hand through his hair, that stupid lopsided grin forming on his lips. 

“Can’t say I love gettin’ old, but celebratin’ was sure nice.”

“And how old are you, Mr. Miller?”

“Ripe age of thirty-six, Miss Smith,” he grinned. 

“What cake did you choose?” you asked, watching him take a long sip of his beer. 

“Vanilla. Everyone’s gotta love vanilla, right?” 

Was he… flirting with you? 

You’d blame your following response on the beers coursing through your bloodstream, but truthfully, you just wanted to play along, even only for a moment. 

“Hmm, I don’t know. I don’t always love vanilla, Mr. Miller.”

Joel’s eyes darkened, falling to your lips as you took another drink. It was bold and stupid of you to say that, but at this point, you didn’t care. 

“What other flavors do you like?” 

He leaned forward in his chair, his thigh pressing against yours. The heat of his body and the smell of smoke on his clothes was a dangerous combination for your self-restraint.  

“I have a few guilty pleasure flavors,” you smirked.

Joel’s hand damn near crushed the bottle when you said those words, his entire body tensing beside you. You couldn’t care at that moment about how you spoke; the drinks started speaking for themselves. You hadn’t dared to flirt with a man since Bennett left, too afraid of what falling in love again might do to you. But, for some reason, flirting with Joel felt so simple. He was older than you, and maybe that piqued your interest, knowing he was far more mature than anyone else you had considered. 

“Indulge me, Miss Smith,” he whispered. 

“I think I’ll leave it a mystery,” you whispered in return. “I’ve already said too much as it is.”

“I reckon you ain’t said enough,” he countered. 

Heat flared through your neck and face as he leaned in closer, his face only inches from yours. This had gone too far. You had broken any rules you had previously set in place, and now you were dancing on a fragile line between professionalism and indecency. 

Glancing at the clock above the bar, you watched as the hands ticked closer to midnight. Just like in the fairytales, your time was up. Back to reality. 

“It’s getting late,” you started. “I should get home.”

Joel’s demeanor shifted, and his grin faltered as he watched you rise from the barstool. He brushed his hand over your arm, barring you from walking away. 

“Not real sure if you should be drivin’ home yet, Miss Smith. Y’had a few drinks tonight,” Joel protested.

“How do you know? Were you watching me?”

“Gotta make sure my daughter's teacher is safe. Who else’s gonna make sure she gets straight A’s?” 

He was trying to make light of the situation, but you knew better. You knew he had been watching you since he had arrived; his attention had never been on his group of friends. 

“I assure you, I’m fine,” you argued. “You go enjoy your night with your friends, Mr. Miller.”

Joel’s brows furrowed as he considered you. His hand still lingered on your arm, thick fingers flexing against your skin. You glanced between his hand and his eyes, trying to make sense of his intentions. This was far past a coincidental run-in; this was a strange desire out of reach. 

“Can I drive you home at least?” He asked. 

“I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

“Can I at least drive behind you to make sure you make it alright?” He offered.

You looked back toward the bar, seeing the man he walked in with staring at you with an apparent scowl.

“I don’t think that’s fair to your friend,” you said.

Joel peered around you and huffed loudly. 

“That’s my brother, Tommy. S’all good, he’s probably ready to hit the road, too.”

“He doesn’t look too happy.”

“He’s fine,” Joel grumbled.

Tommy noticed you both staring at him and decided to join the mix. He walked up with a grin despite the scowl he had just worn and extended his hand to you.

“I’m Tommy. Joel’s brother.”

“Hi, I’m Sarah’s teacher.” You gave him a quick shake and tried to sidestep to leave.

“Wait!” Joel called out.

“I’m okay, Mr. Miller,” you tossed over your shoulder. “Be safe tonight.”

You made a beeline for the door, hoping to escape him before he reeled you back in. You let yourself float in his atmosphere for too long, testing the waters you knew were off-limits. There was still an alcohol-induced haze lingering in your head, but the sooner you could leave, the better. Tomorrow would come with a headache and a post-drunken clarity to put you back on the right track. You needed to steer clear of Joel before you slipped up and allowed another man inside the walls you built. 

You attempted to retrieve your keys from your purse, only to fumble them out of your hands and onto the dirt ground of the parking lot. 

“Fuck,” you groaned.

As you bent to pick them up, footsteps crunching on the ground grew closer. You already knew who it was.

“Miss Smith,” Joel’s voice sounded pained. 

“I’m fine!” you shouted, whipping your head around to find him nearly toe-to-toe with you. 

The moonlight above you illuminated his brown eyes, which darkened the longer he looked down at you. You shrunk away, letting your body hit the driver's side of your door while Joel stepped closer. 

“Please. You shouldn’t be drivin’ right now. Lettin’ you leave like this wouldn’t be right of me.”

Your only focus was on his lips as he talked. The plushness of his lips enticed you, leaving you imagining how soft they’d feel pressed against yours. Your control was slipping, and the alcohol was pulsing faster in your veins. 

“You’re not going to give up, are you?” You wondered aloud. 

Joel looked at you like he knew the layers of the question. He knew what battle you were fighting inside and saw the fear plastered on your face.

“No,” he whispered softly.

Your eyes bounced between his eyes and his lips, trying to grasp the moment's weight. You needed to be firm and say no; your future self would thank you for it. Gripping your keys, you exhaled and turned towards your car door. 

“Have a good night, Mr. Miller,” you tossed over your shoulder. 

The warmth of his body pressed against your back, the smell of smoke and liquor wrapping around you and enveloping you in a cocoon of temptation. Joel’s hands reached around to grab your keys from your shaking hand, dangling them between you and the car. 

“M’taking you home, Miss Smith. Ain’t gonna argue anymore,” he said as his mouth fell to the shell of your ear. 

“I’m—.”

“Don’t,” he interjected. “Go to my truck.”

He had the exact tone you did when you reprimanded your students, but the deep rasp of his accent made it all the more inviting. You didn’t want to listen to his demands, but you were getting nowhere successfully. Joel sidestepped to free you of the cage he had you in, watching you intently as you sulked to his truck. It wasn’t hard to know which one it was; only a few cars were left, and the truck exuded the same masculinity as the owner. 

“What about my car?” You protested, folding your arms across your body as you leaned against the truck. 

“I’ll give Tommy the keys,” he said. “He’ll drive it behind us.”

You were about to ramble another slew of protests when Joel yanked the passenger side door open and tilted his head toward the interior. 

“Get in.”

His tone left little room for arguing, so you did as he said without another word. Despite the anger radiating off his body, Joel shut the door softly before heading back into the bar. 

You fidgeted with the seatbelt, the press of it against your chest not strong enough to stabilize the rhythm of your heartbeat. You were in his truck, meaning you’d be alone with him for the next several minutes. It was enough to force a roll of nausea through your stomach. Leaning your head against the window, you watched him reemerge from the bar with Tommy in tow. There was a clear expression of annoyance etched on Tommy’s face, all at the cost of your own stubbornness. 

Joel tossed him the keys to your car before rounding the truck's hood and climbing into the driver’s seat. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, so you kept your eyes on the road as it blurred past with each passing mile. 

“Where do you live?” he asked, passing through another vacant green light. 

You rambled off your address, still keeping your gaze steady on the streetlights as they passed by your window. He didn’t attempt to make small talk after that, and the silence settled onto you like a heavy blanket. Your control of consciousness was slipping the longer you sat beside him, but you willed yourself awake. The streets started to become familiar, and you shifted in your seat. Taking a risk, you looked at Joel, finding him white-knuckling the wheel with his jaw clenched. 

“I’m sorry,” you muttered. “I—I don’t go out and drink normally. I should have just stayed home tonight.”

“S’okay,” he said, glancing at you. “Just don’t get why you’re so stubborn about askin’ for help. First at the supermarket and now at the bar. I don’t get it.”

A rush of tears stung your eyes, and you quickly looked away, trying to blink them back before he noticed. Joel’s hand fell onto your thigh, sending a jolt of shock through your body. You wanted to shy away from it, but there was no use in fighting at this point; you were already failing miserably. 

“Hey,” he prodded. “Shit, I’m sorry. Don’t cry, alright?”

You swiped away the tears running from your eyes, schooling your emotions back into a state of numbness. Your little blue house came into view, and you pointed a tired finger toward it to guide him in the right direction. 

“This is me,” you sniffled. 

“Big ol’ house, Miss Smith. Y’live here alone?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled. “Thanks for the ride, Mr. Miller.”

“I really wish you’d stop callin’ me that,” he sighed, parking his car at your home's fence.

“It’s all formalities.”

“Yeah, I know. I just think after tonight, we’re far past all them formalities and shit.”

Your hand lingered on the door handle as you took one last look at him. Joel’s eyes looked over you with a softness you didn’t deserve. You deserve to be happy. Maria’s words rang out in your head the longer you stared at him. ‘Happy’ was a foreign word to you now, out of reach and out of your control.

“Can I just know one thing?” He asked. 

You nodded, your fingers wrapped around the door handle.

“What’s your name?”

Blame the alcohol…blame your vulnerability…but you told him.

[thetriumphantpanda]

nobody sees, nobody knows

Alright, here we are, me adding my two cents into the dbf!Joel trope which we all love so much. I've read so many incredible fics like this so hopefully mine can stand up with them all. This will be a series, so strap in for more of our favourite neighbourhood DILF.

Pairing | dbf!Joel x female reader

Summary | Back to Texas with a degree under your belt and a school girl fantasy to fuck your dad's best friend. What could go wrong?

Warnings | I mean, dbf!Joel comes with his own warning right? Other than that, swearing, alcohol consumption, age gap (Reader is 25, Joel is 36), dirty talk, and fingering.

Word Count | 3.3K

PART 2 | MAIN MASTERLIST

There was something about summer in Texas that just hit differently. The way the heat crawled on your skin from the moment you woke up to the moment you tried to sleep at night. The way your father used it as an excuse to cook primarily on the grill, regardless of the food, and the way your mother always made sure the fridge was stocked with cold drinks. The way traffic seemed to cease to exist during the high points of the day, meaning you went to the store every day at midday to buy ice cream. The haze you got from sipping cold beer by your parents’ pool which made you want to do reckless things like you’d done in New York before you realized that the beady eyes of your parents would be all over you if you tried. Reckless things like tell Joel Miller you’d wanted to fuck him for years. 

Every time you’d come home from school, and he’d be there you could have sworn he’d just gotten more and more attractive. The last time you were home, for Christmas and New Year’s, you could have sworn he’d started at the gym, his biceps bulging in the arms of his fitted t-shirt, when your dad commented on it, he's chalked it down to particularly heavy lifting on the job he was working then. He’d had his hair cut in a way that made his face even more handsome and you’re pretty sure the last few times you’d been home he’d noticed how you’d flourished too. 

There were moments where you’d catch his eyes as they drew themselves up your legs, or the time you decided to test your theory and wear a low-cut top and your best bra to a dinner party. His eyes had trained on your chest for most of the night, there was a moment where you’d stood up and leaned over the table to pick up the salt instead of asking him to pass it. He’d choked on his drink and your dad had slapped his back to try and help him. At least you knew he was thinking like you. 

Neither of you had tried crossing the line though. Past the point of no return. You wanted him to make the first move, save yourself the embarrassment of rejection if it came, but it felt like waiting for Joel Miller to kiss you was like waiting for rain in the drought Texas was currently experiencing. Useless and disappointing. You wished sometimes that you could burrow into his brain and figure out what it was that he was really thinking about you. You suspected there would be some code of honour he was sticking to because you were his best friend’s daughter – sure it might complicate things, but you weren’t going to be back in Texas forever – what was the worst that could happen during the secret, torrid affair you’d been cooking up in your head since you arrived back from college a week ago? 

 “Did you hear me when I spoke to you?” Your mother’s voice pulled you from the daydream you were having whilst polishing the cutlery. 

“Sorry mom, I was miles away.” 

“I know!” She exclaims, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you since you came back, you’ve been away with the fairies,” She sighs, “I said, once you’ve set the cutlery out back can you help your dad with filling the fridge with the beer, please?” 

You hum in agreement which is enough to send her back to the endless chopping she seems to be doing at the kitchen counter. It was just a cookout with the Millers and few other family friends to celebrate your return, but you think your mother thinks she’s catering for a garden party at the White House with the number of sides she’s preparing. 

You make quick work of the rest of the cutlery, wanting to avoid any more questions about why you seem miles away all the time – you can’t exactly tell your mother it’s because you’re thinking about how Joel might eat your pussy.

“Need any help, old man?” You greet your dad in the garage, he’s on his knee’s pulling out bottles of Budweiser to stack in the fridge. 

“Here, grab these and start putting them in,” He’s smiling, he’s always been an overly happy and laid-back man, “I hope we’ve got enough in.” 

“How many people are you expecting?” You chuckle, taking a bottle from him to add to the growing number already stacked on the shelves. 

“Probably ten or so,” Hu shrugs, “But one of those people is Tommy Miller and he’s not changed a bit since you’ve been away.” 

“Between your drinks and mom’s sides we could host the entire neighborhood.” You joke. 

You continue to fill the fridge up with drinks until there’s no room left. Your dad stores the leftover crates next to it for refilling throughout the evening, “Now, go and make yourself look nice, everyone’ll be here soon.” 

*

You’d be lying if you said that you hadn’t picked your shortest and lowest cut dress for the evening. It was a pale blue colour, with pink flowers dotted about the material. It fell to your mid-thigh and you had to keep reminded yourself to kneel down instead of bending over, in case people who you didn’t want to look caught an eyeful of the scant lace covering your ass. 

There are a few people milling around already, cold beers in hand, mainly some of your dad’s older friends, who have all congratulated you on graduating and then moved on to talk about mundane neighborhood gossip. 

“Now, where is that smartass?” You hear from the sliding doors; it’s Tommy and he’s bounding over to you to give you a hug. 

He scoops you up into a bone breaking hug, “Congratulation’s girl, your dad said you graduated top of the class!” 

He’s set you down and you can see Joel standing awkwardly next to him, “He’s exaggerating, I wasn’t top, although pretty close to it,” You turn to Joel, “Hey there.” He bends down to give you a one-armed hug and a peck on the cheek. 

“Good to see you back, sweetheart.” 

“Good to see you too, Joel,” You chirp in response, “Where’s Sarah?” 

“She’s at camp for the first part of the summer,” He explains, “Back in a couple’a weeks, she’ll be thrilled to see you again.” 

“Boys!” Your dad’s booming voice interrupts your conversation, “Good to see you both!” He turns to you, “Why don’t you go and get these two some beers, I need to speak to them about fixin’ up the attic.” 

You turn quietly and head for the garage. Of course, you’d become waitress at your own welcome home party. It takes no time at all for you to come back with three beers, two for the Miller brothers and one for yourself. You hand them off wordlessly, but you don’t miss how Joel grips the bottle just above your fingers, brushing against them. Of all the places for him to grab the bottle, that couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? 

The rest of the evening goes by as expected. You spend most of it running around helping your mom set the food out, fetching more beers for everyone and trying to field questions from everyone about what you’re going to do in Texas with an MA in Archival Studies. You bite your tongue every time, and reply with something like, “I think I’ll probably work in an archive.” 

The night is winding down, your mom already in bed having finished her wine too quickly, your dad sat outside in the quickly fading sunlight with Joel and Tommy and a few other stragglers. It fell to you to make aa start on the dishes, which is what you were currently doing. Rinsing them off over the sink before stacking them in the dishwasher, pausing long enough each time to take a sip of lukewarm beer. 

“They got you tidyin’ up your own party?” You hear from behind you. It’s Joel. 

“I’m the only one sober enough not to break anything.” You shrug without turning around to face him. 

“Seems a little unfair if you ask me, sweetheart.” 

“Well, why don’t you make yourself useful and help?” You counter, “Then I can be sat outside drinkin’ beer with you all.” 

You hear his boots on the floor and then he’s next to you, reaching around to grab the pile of cutlery on the side, he opens the dishwasher further to put the cutlery in their designated tray and then stop, “Has no-one ever taught you how to stack a dishwasher?” 

You pause in your rinsing to look up at him for the first time, “What do you mean?” 

“This is awful sweetheart,” He chuckles, “You’ve got the bowls and plates in the wrong place – you’ll be doing three washes if you carry on like this.” 

“Well, go on then, maestro, show me how to stack it.” 

He’s unloading everything you’ve put in so far, apart from what you suspect he thinks was his expertly placed cutlery, and you’re watching as he’s stacking in completely differently to you. Annoyingly he’s not wrong, the way he’s doing it means you’ll likely fit everything in at once, “Can’t believe you’ve lived on your own for five years and didn’t learn how to stack a dishwasher.” 

“Joel, I was in a dingy studio apartment in the ass end of New York, you think I had a dishwasher?” 

“Well, consider yourself taught now, I don’t ever wanna see a dishwasher looking anything less than perfect, you hear me?” 

“Loud and clear, Mr Miller.” You watch as his eyebrows raise at your new greeting, oh. He liked that. 

He picks up your almost empty beer bottle and hands it to you, “Go on, down the rest,” He’s grinning, “Then go and sit down and I’ll get you a fresh one.” 

You decide to push it a little further, “Yes, sir.” You watch as he swallows deeply at your words before you’re brushing past him, far too close than necessary to go and sit down. 

It’s another hour of sitting around in the garden before everyone else is gone – Tommy is finishing off his beer and telling Joel he’ll be heading to his to crash. 

“I’m going to call it a night too,” Your dad says, “Stay and finish your drink though Joel, there’s no rush, I’m sure this one can keep you company with her stories from New York.” 

And then you’re alone with him, finally. He’s taking a long drink from his beer bottle, which you mirror, realizing suddenly that you didn’t eat much, and you’ve drunk far more than you probably should. You’re not drunk, but there’s a pleasant buzz through your body that’s making your eyelids a little heavy. 

When the light goes off in your parents’ room, you figure it’s safe, “I’ve seen you staring at me, you know.” 

He doesn’t miss a beat, “You make it hard not to, sweetheart.” 

“Do you want me, Joel?” You don’t know where you’ve come from all of a sudden, but this confident girl isn’t someone you recognize. 

“It ain’t a question of wantin’ you sweetheart, it’s a question of doin’ the right thing.” You watch as he rubs his hand over his forehead in frustration. 

“But you do,” You push him, “Want me?” 

“Course I do,” He’s swallowing thickly again, just like he did in the kitchen, “But I can’t have you.” 

“Says who?” You pry. 

“Says the fact that I’m one’a your dad’s best friends, not to mention far too old for you.” He’s looking at you and taking another big drink from his bottle, like if he finishes, he can leave you alone. 

“No-one has to know,” You shrug, “Could be our little secret?” 

“You been readin’ too many of them romance novels,” He snorts, “It don’t work like that, if they find out they’ll fucking kill me.” He’s tilting his head to the window of your parents’ room.

You stand from your seat opposite him, walking around the table to stop just in front of Joel, “Come on Joel, have a little fun for once.” 

There’s a moment where you can see the cogs whirring in his brain, trying to weigh up being shot for touching his best friend’s little girl and finally satisfying the craving he’d wanted for a while now. Then, he’s putting his bottle down on the floor next to the chair he’s sat in. You watch closely as he shifts his position to sit more towards the edge of the chair, before one of his hands reaches out to grip the back of your thigh, just above the crease of your knee.

“You’ll be the death of me,” He mumbles before he looks up at you, “C’mere.” 

He’s pulling gently on your leg as he shifts back in the seat, guiding you so your hips are straddling his. You try not to press yourself too fully into him just yet, letting your clothed heat rest above his lap. One of his arms comes to wrap around the back of your waist, the other tangling in your hair at the back of your head whilst he looks at you with eyes that say he wants to devour you. 

“You gonna kiss me, Mr Miller?” You ask, innocently. 

“Oh darlin’, I’m gonna do so much more than that.” 

His head is tilting to the side and looking up at you from your higher ground, perched on his lap. Then his lips are on yours and God all those years of longing were worth it. They’re pressed tentatively against your own, but you can feel they’re slightly chapped. His hand resting in your hair grips a little tighter and he’s moving your head slightly so that when he opens his mouth against yours it’s the easiest thing for you to open yours right back and let his tongue into your mouth. 

You let out a gasp, swallowed into his own mouth when his hands drop back to your thighs before they’re trailing up the small skirt of your dress to cup the cheeks of your ass, “You wear this for me?” He pulls away, speaking before he’s trailing his lips along your jawline, “Thought you’d get me worked up in this tiny little thing, naughty girl?” 

“It worked, didn’t it?” 

He huffs a breath out of his nose as if to say, of course it did. He’s trailing his hot mouth down your neck now, dragging his teeth along your skin before licking with his tongue to soothe any red marks he might leave. Your head is thrown back as his hands drag you down so you’re sitting flush against him. You can’t help but notice the bulge in his jeans when your clothed pussy makes contact with him. 

You’re whining as his hands are on your hips under your dress, the hot skin of his hands setting fire to you, “What do you want, pretty girl?” He asks, his tongue trailing down to the valley between your tits. 

“Fingers,” You rasp, “Make me come with your fingers Joel.” 

He lets out a low chuckle against your skin, “Needy little thing, already beggin’ me to finger fuck her.” 

But he’s already obliging your request, one of his hands is moving down from your hip to the front of your panties, running his thumb over the material from top to bottom, “God, I can feel how wet you are already,” You look down and he’s grinning, “I’m gonna take these off, sweetheart, but you gotta promise to keep quiet okay?” 

You nod in agreement before you’re lifting your hips up, just enough for Joel to hook his fingers in the waistband of your underwear and pull them down enough so his hands can touch you. He mimics the same movement he’d done over the material, this time his fingers touching the bare skin of you seam and he’s groaning when he feels the slick gathered near your tight hole. 

“God, you really are wet, aren’t ya?” He chuckles, a flush creeping over your cheeks, “Ain’t nothing to be embarrassed about sweetheart,” He reassures, “Means I’m doin’ somethin’ right.” 

You feel one of his thick fingers slip inside you, just a little, before he’s dragging the slick he’s gathered up to run light touches over your clit. You bite down on your lip to keep you from crying out into the dark, hips bucking into his hand to try and get more friction from his fingers. He takes the hint and is pressing his finger more firmly into your bundle of nerves and it’s becoming increasingly more difficult to keep quiet. 

When Joel’s hand drops from your clit you almost cry from frustration, put then he’s sinking two of his fingers straight into your soaking pussy and the relief is palpable. He’s moving them in and out of you, curling them in just the right way that has your hips moving in time with him, literally fucking yourself on his fingers. You let your head fall into the crook of his neck, placing kisses to his skin as you ride his fingers. 

“This what you wanted, pretty girl?” He asks, his free hand coming to cup the back of your head against his neck, at least this way you could make some noise – testing out your theory you let out a throaty moan, listening carefully as his skin muffles most of the sound. 

“I need… god Joel, my clit, please.” 

With his fingers still buried inside you, working you to the edge, his thumb moves to your clit, resuming the circles his finger had been drawing over it before, “I can feel your pussy gettin’ tight around my fingers,” He’s turned his head so it’s buried in the hair at the side of your head, “You gonna come for me, sweetheart?” 

You push back from him a little, looking down between your bodies where you can see his hand working you and that’s really all it takes. Your legs are shaking and you’re biting down on your lip hard enough that you can taste blood as pleasure bursts through you – not even you had made yourself come like this. Ever. Joel’s fingers have stilled inside you, but he’s still tracing your clit with gentle movements of his thumb, reveling in the way you jerk through the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

“Did so well for me, pretty girl.” He coos at you once he’s pulled his hand from your pussy. 

You’ve collapsed onto his chest to catch your breath, but you’re already subconsciously grinding your hips into his, God you want more. You’re about to reach for his belt when you can feel something vibrating in the pocket of his jeans. 

He’s mumbling an apology, lifting you just enough to fish his phone from his pocket. He answers without looking at who is calling. You can hear Tommy’s voice through the phone from your place, draped over Joel’s lap. 

“You just turn it to the side, jackass,” Joel is mumbling in answer to Tommy’s question on how to work his shower, “You’ve used it a million times,” Tommy say’s something you can quite make out, “No, not that one, the one underneath it,” Joel is sighing, “You were not this drunk when you left, if I find you’ve finished the good whiskey I’m gonna kill you,” Another sigh to a question you couldn’t quite hear, “Fine, I’ll be there in a minute.” 

Disappointment is pooling in your stomach. You don’t want him to go, not when there’s so much unfinished business here, “I gotta go, sweetheart.” He’s mumbling, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. 

“But what about this?” You ask, reaching between you to cup his cock through his jeans, “Let me help you.” 

His hand is gripping your wrist, “I would love nothin’ more, but I gotta go before Tommy floods my house,” Another kiss to your lips, “Next time.” 

“You want to do this again?” You ask, almost surprised. 

He takes the hand that had been buried in your pussy not minutes before, lifting the fingers he’d fucked you with to his mouth before sucking them right in front of your face, “Now I’ve gotta taste for you, sweetheart?” He raises an eyebrow, “Of course I wanna do this again.” 

[stylesispunk]

"I couldn't want you anymore"

artist! Joel Miller x florist!f! Reader

series masterlist | prologue | next | materlist

summary: when Sarah's mom comes back into Joel's life to fight for their past relationship, Joel needs to convince her he is in a happy relationship with the florist next to his gallery in order to make her go away. The problem is, that he and the florist can't stand each other's guts or that it's what he thinks.

warning: no warnings for now and age gap ( reader is 28 and Joel 36).

a/n: okay!! This chapter is out earlier than it was planned but is not a longe one so.. welcome haha. I hope you enjoy the first stop of this journey 👀 Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. happy reading 💌 also remember, english is not my first language so if sometimes everything sounds stupid, blame my brain and the mix of three languages there

Bee or annoying bee. That’s how Joel had referred to you since the day he laid his eyes on you for the first time when he saw you surrounded by a thousand flowers. 

You arrived here on a Monday morning exactly four years ago. At first, Joel thought you were one of the cutest people he had ever seen in his then 31 years of life. Even when you were the complete opposite of him in every way. Meanwhile, Joel was organized, you were spontaneous and messy and people around town seemed to love you for it. You were nice to everyone, to Sarah, and even to his brother, but to Joel, you were completely closed off. Yes, you smiled at him weakly every once in a while or even asked him about his day, but your smile never reached your eyes, you were simply polite and everything else. So, since that day, Joel decided he didn’t like you.

He didn’t like the flowers you sent to his daughter on special days, neither did he like the flowers you sent to him every time he had a new exhibition in his art gallery, and he didn’t like it when your flower shop also became a little coffee shop for people passing by. He simply didn’t like anything coming from you. 

You made him feel weird in the stomach, and he didn’t like that feeling.

And now, Joel didn’t know why he was in this position. He wanted to slap himself once he told his ex or how he liked to call her, the woman who birthed Sarah, that you were his girlfriend. In his defense, he was desperate at that moment He wasn't thinking straight and you were the first person who came to his sight at that moment. He only knew he didn't want the woman who abandoned him with a tiny baby years ago, back into his life.

So, once you were left speechless at the "This is my girlfriend" statement, he reached for you immediately with the promise he was going to tell you everything, so you left the gallery in peace but not without sending daggers at Joel.

After that, Joel invited Lauren into his gallery, desperately trying to find a way to convince her that he had moved on from them. He wasn't the same naive person he had been back then. But she was determined to rekindle their relationship and see Sarah in order to become the family they were meant to be, and she wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Joel, I understand that you've moved on with your life. But Sarah deserves to know her mother, and I want to be there for her."

Joel nodded; his heart heavy with the weight of their shared history. "I want what's best for Sarah too," he said, "but it's not that simple. You broke my heart when you left us alone.” 

Lauren reached out and placed a hand on his arm, a gesture of reconciliation. "Joel, I'm not asking for your forgiveness right now. I just want a chance to be a part of Sarah's life” she said. “And maybe now that we’re both grown adults, we can make it work between us.” 

“I told you I have a girlfriend” he lied again, trying to escape from this particular situation.

“The one who left?” she scoffed “You need a woman, Joel. Not an annoying girl” 

Joel didn’t utter a word, but for the first time since he met you, he felt the need to stand up for you.

A few hours later, after the crazy events from earlier in the morning, Joel found himself standing outside your flower shop, feeling a deep sense of humiliation. He knew he had some explaining to do, and he hoped you would at least hear him out.

As he entered the shop, the familiar sweet scent of flowers enveloped him, you were behind the counter, arranging some bouquets of flowers, pretending you were too focused on your work to even acknowledge his presence. 

"Bee" Joel began cautiously, "we need to talk."

You didn't look up from your flowers as you spoke: "Oh, what do you wanna talk about, my dear boyfriend?” 

Joel winced at the reminder of the lie he had told.

“You’re such a baby” you continued “Pretending I’m your girlfriend in front of... whoever that woman was?"

"Sarah's mother. I know it was a terrible thing to do, and I'm sorry. She showed up out of nowhere, and I didn't know how to handle it. I panicked."

At that piece of information, you finally looked up, locking eyes with Joel's. "So, what? You just decided to drag me into your mess?"

"No, it wasn't about that," Joel replied quickly. "I don't want her back in my life, and I thought if she believed I had moved on, she'd leave. I don’t really know.”

Your anger seemed to soften slightly as you listened to Joel's explanation, but still, you remained guarded. "That doesn't excuse your actions, Joel. We’re not friends” you said. As a matter of fact, “You can’t just use me like that.”

Joel sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I know we haven't exactly been friendly neighbors here, and I take responsibility for that. But I promise you, this was a desperate move, and I didn't mean to involve you like that."

You continued to arrange the flowers, with delicate movements. "Why didn't you just tell her the truth?"

“What truth?”

“The one that you are so fucking annoying you can’t even keep a woman by your side” 

Joel's response was sharp, filled with resentment. "Like you could keep a man with you," he scoffed.

The words hung heavily in the air, making the tension between you two grow into a battle, a bitter word exchange. 

You clenched your jaw, your eyes narrowing as you met Joel's gaze. "Don't pretend you know anything about my life," you retorted, your voice tinged with anger.

Joel's expression hardened as he shot back, "I know enough to see that you're all smiles and sunshine to everyone else, but you push everyone away, especially me."

The words cut deep into your ego, and you felt the frustration arising. "Maybe I pushed you away because you're so judgmental and closed off," you fired back, not willing to back down. “Now, get out of my shop you will kill my flowers with your stinky mouth” 

“No,” he stated.

“What?” you asked, sending daggers at him.

“I won’t go because I need your help”, his voice almost a plea. 

Your eyes widened in disbelief at Joel's tone. "You've got to be kidding me," you exclaimed once you realized what he meant, the frustration in your tone was evident. "After all this, you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?"

Joel's expression was one of desperation as he replied, "I know it's a lot to ask, and I understand if you don't want to do it. But I promise it's just one more time, and I'll make it up to you somehow."

You crossed your arms and tapped your foot on the ground "Joel, you've already pulled this stunt once today. Why on earth would I agree to do it again?"

Joel took a step closer, looking earnestly into your eyes. "Because this is important to me. Lauren is not someone I want back in my life, and I need a way to convince her to leave for good. Please, just help me one more time."

“But it is not important to me!” you exclaimed, making Joel stop his rambling “You are not my friend. I don’t own you anything” 

Your words cut through the tension, and for a moment, Joel was reminded of just how much you two didn't get along. He felt a pang of guilt for dragging you into his mess and into his life. 

Once you finished with the flowers, you set them aside. She leaned against the counter, studying Joel carefully. "You know, you’re ridiculous, right?” fakely smiled at him. “You’re a 36-year-old man fake dating a girl” 

Joel winced at your words. He knew he had acted irrationally and put you in an uncomfortable position, but hearing your frustration made it all the more stupid.

"I understand if you're angry," Joel admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "I never should have involved you in this mess. It was unfair to you, and I'm truly sorry for that."

You let out a sigh in annoyance at Joel's request "Fine, I'll do it, but with one condition."

Joel's face lit up with hope. "Name it."

“You cannot fall in love with me,” she said, in a completely serious tone. 

Joel scoffed…I mean, there is no way he could possibly love you in that way. 

Joel chuckled, a nervous laugh escaping him. "Bee, trust me, the last thing on my mind right now is falling in love with anyone. Especially you" he placed his hands on the counter, almost touching your fingers “I could say the same about you. Don’t fall in love with me, baby” 

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his response, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. "Oh, don't worry, Joel. Falling in love with you is impossible," you retorted, matching your tone with his.

Your expression became serious; locking eyes with Joel "I mean it, Joel. No matter what happens during all this, we can't let it go beyond pretending. We both know we can't stand each other, and that's not going to change."

Joel nodded in agreement. "I couldn't agree more, Baby. After this is over, you’re back to only being a pain in my ass and the most insufferable person I know.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes again, but you still offered a small smile. "Uh! that isn’t a nice thing to say about your girlfriend”, she pouted. 

Joel chuckled with a playful smirk "Ah, yes, how could I forget? My lovely girlfriend”

With the agreement in place, both of you understood the boundaries you had placed before doing this act. It was a peculiar arrangement, born out of necessity rather than desire. After all, it would last a few days or maybe some weeks. But Joel would do everything for his own and Sarah's sake, and you were willing to play along with it because, after all, you were a people pleaser.

As the tension eased, you continued to arrange more flowers, and Joel looked around your shop. Every single part of it held pieces of you. From the scent to the colors, it suited you. 

"I appreciate your willingness to go along with this, Bee" Joel said sincerely, breaking the silence "It means a lot to me, even if we can't, you know, stand each other."

You gave him a small nod. "I hope that from now on, you stop ruining my flowers.” 

Joel smiled "Promise” 

Joel raised his hands to shake hands with you, in a gesture to seal the agreement. You accepted his hand, and for a brief moment, your skin met his in the handshake. There was electricity sparkling at the touch, one that neither of you had anticipated. Swiftly, both of you let go of each other's hands, leaving an odd feeling lingering in the air.

“See you around,” Joel said, trying to cut the tension left in the air.

“See you” you answered, this time without meeting his eyes as you felt the blood rushing into your cheeks.

Joel turned and headed back to his gallery, with that strange feeling he hated so much settled in his stomach.

a/n: Okay this is the first official chapter of this story, this is more like an introduction of their agreement, but more is coming. I really feel inspired because last week spring began here so..flowers and more flowers. i have so many ideas for this one so i hope you like the story and the following chapters. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, please. Take care and see you soon.

p.s for those who read my other fic. I promise the next chapter will be posted by the end of this week or during the next one

tag 💌: @joeldjarin @borhapparker @fatima-marisa @kirsteng42

[khujoor]

apple pie ch.one

tw: zhongli makes reader a bit uncomfy

wc: ab 1.3k

"we should all go out tonight! like when we were younger in middle school," ayaka said, trying to get the groups attention.

"can't, got wrestling practice," beidou said, not bothering to look up from her phone.

"i can't either, my mom wants me to meet some guy she's been dating," you sighed, putting your homework in your bag.

your friend group wasn't necessarily large, only five people, but others may disagree. it consisted of ayaka, the class president, beidou, the athlete people loved, ningguang, the student council president, keqing, the council's secretary, and you, y/n.

"is he famous?" beidou asked, suddenly interested in the discussion.

you couldn't blame your friends for no longer having interest in discussions, or no longer having free time, you were all seniors, only a month from graduating. you all also had other friends too. it wouldn't be a lie if you said you'd prefer others than them at times.

"i don't know," you shrugged. "i never met him."

"you think he's gonna be an old man?" ningguang asked you.

"i think he was born in '87 since my mom got him something year of the rabbit related. or '75 but not even my mom is 40 yet."

"he's young then. you're about half his age, if he's 36, that is."

you weren't necessarily excited to meet him. ever since your father passed away at a young age, your mom got a new boyfriend every other week, acting as if she was going to marry them, only to break up since your mom lost interest.

you thought your mom was the reason why you didn't have a proper relationship, you don't know what love really is. sure, your mom got you stuff, never yelled or hit you, and wasn't constantly out the house, but she never knew how to show affection towards you.

"do you think this relationship will turn out well for your mom?" beidou put her legs up on the empty chair next to her, grabbing a piece of gum for herself.

"beidou!" keqing looked at beidou, not wanting you to be hurt by her words.

"it's fine," you sighed. "i hope so, but i don't think it will. she's a very picky woman, y'know?" you sarcastically said.

you wished your mom would have a proper relationship. a not creepy boyfriend. maybe you can get a father figure too while she's at it.

"i think.. i'll get a rich boyfriend. then, we can live together, far from here, wouldn't that be nice?" you daydreamed.

"finish school first," beidou snorted.

"why don't you move into the dorms?" ningguang questioned.

"you know my mom can't afford it. if she could, i would've gladly moved in the dorms," you grabbed your phone from your pocket, opening your bank account. "even my part-time job doesn't give me enough money to live on campus," you showed the balance on your phone, a mere 150 dollars.

"you just got hired," keqing said. "just save up, you'll have enough money soon."

"we're all going to be out of school by then."

you wore the most expensive thing you owned, or probably the only expensive thing you owned since you hardly spent much on yourself. it was a dress, but wasn't too fancy or revealing.

"(y/n)! are you ready yet?" your mom called from her bedroom, as you heard her complain about what purse would best suit her outfit.

her boyfriend was supposed to pick you two up to take you all to the dinner, and while there was about 5 minutes left, you were decided whether you really wanted to go or not.

you can easily pretend to be sick, right? a few random stuff thrown in the toilet looks like throw up, doesn't it?

"you be on your best behavior tonight, okay? i really love him, so you better not ruin this for me."

you love your mom, if love was the right word for it, but she said that everytime. and everytime she ended up ruining it herself. what were you gonna do?

you slipped on your flats, changing from your original plan of heels, considering school made your feet sore.

you stood outside, next to your mom who dragged you outside, saying it'd be better to be outside so he wouldn't have to wait.

"mom?"

"yes?"

"do you really love him?"

she took a moment to say something.

"of course i do."

as your mom's words lingered in the air, you couldn't help but feel a sense of skepticism. it wasn't the first time she had proclaimed her love for someone new, only for it to end in disappointment and heartache. but this time, something felt different.

maybe it was the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about him, or the genuine smile that graced her face whenever he came up in some conversation of yours.

you sighed, pushing aside your doubts for now. after all, you wanted nothing more than to see your mom happy, even if it meant going through the rollercoaster of emotions that came with her relationships.

folding your arms across your chest, you forced yourself to wear a supportive smile as you waited for her boyfriend's arrival.

just as you were about to suggest checking the time, a sleek black car pulled up in front of your house.

"he's here," you said, looking at your mom.

"you should sit in the front seat, i'm sure he'd love to meet you," she said as she sits in the back.

"fuck," you groaned, rubbing your temple in frustration. you didn't like meeting new people, and now you were expected to sit next to a new person?

you opened the door, sitting down, making sure you were close to the door as you put out your hand. "i'm (y/n), it's nice to meet you. my mother always talks about you."

"really? i'm honored," his voice was deep, yet carried some sweetness as he looked back at your mom. he shakes your hand firmly, his hand feeling a bit rough. "i'm zhongli. you may have heard of my company, liyue? we're an entertainment agency."

"oh, yeah, i've heard of it before," you put on your seatbelt, wondering what to say to keep the conversation going.

he had a fairly nice car, it looked newly polished, and had the new car smell. you would believe him if he told you this was a brand new car.

"your mother tells me you're top of your class?"

"yeah, barely. hopefully i'll graduate top of my class," you said, looking forward, even if you desperately wanted to look away, you didn't want to be that disrespectful.

"what do you plan to do after high school?"

"become a scien-"

"a doctor. she wants to be a doctor," your mother interrupted you, but you doubt that did anything considering you said most of the title already.

zhongli's smile seemed to widen, but it didn't reach his eyes. "ah, a studious young lady. that's commendable. and dreams… they have a way of evolving, don't they?"

you nodded, trying to shake off the discomfort that settled over you. the rest of the ride was spent in awkward silence, broken only by occasional attempts at forced small talk. each passing moment increased your desire to escape this situation.

finally, the car pulled up to the restaurant, and you were relieved to step out into the crisp night air. the restaurant's ambiance couldn't dispel the tension that lingered, and the evening unfolded as a series of strained conversations and awkward silences.

[sl33py-day]

Natsu Tenokami- Emperors Daughter

Nastu | Emperors Daughter | 24 years old | Manipulative + Clingy

There's a few things you need to know before we talk about Natsu in general. In 1635, Japan made a law called the Sakoku decree which limited foreign trade from other regions. Sakoku translated into English is ‘country in chains’ which basically means what it means. No Japanese citizen could leave the country without a really good reason to do so and even then it was hella difficult and expensive. The same restrictions have been happening way before 1635 but the sakoku decree made it impossible to even go anywhere near or anywhere out of japan.

If you're one of the traders you could only go to China and China only. This goes with foreigners as well, Nagasaki was the only port of which trade would be conducted and even then royal guards would watch over and make sure nothing of christian variety would go through trade. During this time southern Japan (Mainly Kyushu) has seen an increase of catholic converters which the imperial emperor found as a threat. Many catholic citizens were killed due to them not converting back or were killed if they didn’t agree to move to a small island off the coast of Japan.

Now that is done and explained in the best way possible let's move on to the main reason we are here.

Nastu was born before the sakoku decree, in the winter of 1611, where everything was still a bit strict with trading but wasn’t to an extent of murder on site. At a young age she would play with the children from the nearby village that laid at the bottom of her imperial fortress. The only issue with this is that her father, Kibishi Tenokami, saw this activity as horrifying and brought dishonesty to the imperial family. ‘No daughter of mine should play with that of commoners’ her father would say on the daily once he found out she went to play in the village. However she would still go down to play since her father wouldn’t dare hurt her in any physical way and only kept her in the fortress for a week max as punishment.

She had 1 older brother, Nobaru, who would be the heir of the throne once he came of age and a younger brother, Kibo, who would be the second heir to the throne if the original heir were to unexpectedly die. Her mother passed away after childbirth due to complications and blood loss. Her father as mentioned earlier is strict with who she talks with others and definitely controls what she does on occasions which is probably why she becomes manipulative towards her lover.

Here's a little side note about Natsu, while yes she did grow up without a mother doesn’t mean she didn’t have a mother figure in her life. That's where her personal assistant Aio comes into play. Aio was 20 when she took care of baby Natsu and was about 36 when Natsu had her first crush. To keep it simple, Aio wasn’t much help and probably didn’t tell her that she was doing something wrong.

At 16 Natsu fell in love with a boy in the village she used to go to as a child. At that time she hasn’t gotten much attention or affection from her father so she quickly became attached to this village boy. Her father heavily disapproved of this and banned Natsu from visiting him, going as far as threatening Aio into locking Natsu in her room at night as well as locking the windows.

Aio, feeling bad for having to do this to a child, she let Natsu visit the boy in the village every week for one night. This kept happening as the months went by and only did it stop when Natsu found out that the village boy she once loved didn’t love her back in the same way. She ended up telling Aio in broken sobs that her lover truly didn’t love her back.

“What am I supposed to do Aio? I-I thought he loved me! H-How could he just fall for some…some ragged village girl! I could’ve given him anything he wanted!”

She spent hours in her room heartbroken, her brothers didn’t know what was going on and tried to help but she refused saying stuff along the lines of ‘I hate this family, if i wasn’t his daughter I could’ve had him!’ which confused the two brothers since they didn’t know who this unknown man was that their sister had unknowingly fallen in love with.

It was only when Natsu came up with the idea to just get rid of the boy who was causing her so much stress and pain in her heart. So after a few days, the village boy disappeared and was never seen again by anyone. Aio helped hide any evidence in fear she would get caught letting Natsu out at night.

Years have passed since that fateful day, rumors came and gone like the morning breeze, none really stayed put into the solid ground in fear the Emperor would cause all hell to break loose. Natsu realized her mistake, even though she doesn’t really feel any guilt. It was the boy's fault for not loving her back.

In my view of the AU I have created I would imagine something like this to happen for Natsu to meet her Darling (Aka male reader)

It was early in the morning with just enough light to pass crates to one another and for the guards to watch everything. She didn’t really want to be there watching the transaction happen but she couldn’t stand Nobaru’s whines and begs for her to at least watch what happens behind the scenes. This was the fourth time he asked and ,to her very reluctant pleasure, she agreed. Which is why she sits alone in the cold morning air at this very moment.

She sat on one of the stone stairs with her elbow on her knee, her gray blue eyes lazily glossing over all the traders one by one with not a single ounce of interest. A slight frown stood on her face, showing how unhappy she was to be here in the exact moment. The chitter chats of the traders talking with the imperial guards filled Natsu’s ears. She couldn’t even pick out what even one trader was saying due to how hushed they talked. That was until something caught her eye. A small group of traders huddled around one of the crates in a bout of confusion. A small cloud of air showed right in front of the blackette’s lips as she sighed. Slowly standing up from the cold pebble stairs the soft clicks of her heels as she walked down the steps quickly quieted everyone near.

“What’s going on here? This isn’t a small party, we should be hurrying the produce onto land.” Her voice was strict but had the flow of sweet honey as she talked, all of the traders stuttered out a response only for one of the guards to walk over and randomly grab down into the crate and pulled out a H/c boy who seemed quite afraid.

Natsu’s eyes widen in shock, she hasn’t seen a foreigner in years if not decades since her father put the Sakoku decree in place. She was quite mezmorized at the exotic features of the man. Even though he was covered in dirt that soiled his commoner clothes his eyes were such a pretty e/c that Natsu couldn’t look away. His hair was covered in dirt and knots probably formed from the rough journey but Natsu didn’t care.

“Let me go!” The unknown boy yelled in both fear and anger as the royal guards held his forearms in a bone crushing grip so he wouldn’t escape. It was chaos as some guards ran to get the emperor while others stood their ground and watched the boy. Natsu knew what was gonna happen next, they would take the boy near the water and slice his head clean off with one of the sharp swords they had. She can’t have that, for some reason she felt compelled to do something to save this boys life.

“Hold your ground!” Natsu yelled above the roaring chaos making everyone stop and turn towards her in confusion and slight annoyance. Her brother Nobaru was even more confused as she walked her way to the unknown boy and ripped him from the guards grip.

“He’s the servant I have requested not to long ago, I wasn’t aware of when he would come. So I’m sorry for not informing you earlier.” Natsu’s grip on the boy loosened quite a bit as he stood confused but happy as he was dragged without further instructions towards the Imperial fortress.

If only he knew that life would’ve been much better if his head was chopped off then.

-Hello! How was the first Oc introduction? Some feedback would be appreciated as well as reposting! Have a good day/night-

[ae-azile]

Azile's OC Round Up, Part 3 - Progression OCs.

Since I am actively updating this story, I decided to make the list of my prominent Progression OCs. I will likely add Fern and Milan to part 4.

Vice

Introduced in: Chapter 1 of Progression

Age: 36

Profession: Major Family Bodyguard

Characteristics: hardworking, morally ambiguous, loving brother, quick to feel resentment

Importance: Chay's first sexual partner.

Origin: Ex-cop, orphan. Became a bodyguard to bail his troubled younger brother out of jail. Became enamored by Chay's growing confidence, abilities, and muscles. Despite their age gap and first time being sudden, they slept together a few more times. Chay declined the offer to go out on a date, then slept with Vice's roommate not too long after. This was a problem because Vice has been in a FWB situation with his roommate for a while, so he felt betrayed by both of them.

Sand

Introduced in: Chapter 9 of Progression

Age: 26

Profession: Major Family Bodyguard

Characteristics: Loyal, quiet, friendly, relatively strong moral compass despite job

Importance: Chay's previous sexual partner, the only one he considers a friend.

Origin: Has very little family outside of the compound. Comes from foster care. Took the job for stability and a place to live, stayed for the friendships. Would have been open to dating Chay, but okay with being friends too. They work out together and sometimes have semi-heartfelt conversations. Honestly a pretty good guy.

Lane

Introduced in: Chapter 7 of Progression

Age: 33

Profession: Psychotherapist

Characteristics: Patient, understanding, trustworthy, calm, professional

Importance: Kim's therapist, and she has actually made some strides with him.

Origin: Lane is the older cousin of Tay. She is his mother's sister's daughter. While her immediate family is not directly involved with the mafia, she grew up close enough to Tay to know some of the traumas that occurred. Kinn already knew her and was on good terms with her due to Tay, so he reached out after it became clear Kim needed extensive treatment in order to feel better. Kim genuinely likes her, and would probably not be able to switch to a new therapist easily, or possibly at all.

Malai

Introduced: In Progression, Tankhun mentions visiting her in Chapter 20, and she is introduced in Chapter 22 officially. Versions of her character are also mentioned/included in The Masks Series, Lay Me Down to Sleep, and I Do (Not Understand What's Going On).

Age: 34

Profession: Litigation Paralegal

Characteristics: Kind, ambitious, maternal, excellent multitasker

Importance: Arm's older sister

Origin: Malai as a general character was first introduced in 5, 3, 1, and On, which is a novel length prequel to Giant Dancing Hedgehogs are Nightmare Fuel told solely from Arm's POV. In that, she lives with her younger sisters and is characterized as a hardworking sisterly/motherly figure due to rescuing Arm and the girls from the human trafficking situation they were all in. In this universe, she is more career oriented, but still a motherly figure at heart. She adopted her foster siblings after becoming of age from a really abusive and traumatic household. Arm is six years younger than Malai, but the next oldest and the only boy in their family. He often feels a need to make up for her sacrifices, but she makes them happily. A year before Progression, she had a close friend pass away, leaving behind twin toddler girls. While she balanced the motherly/sisterly role with Arm, Hansa, Nalin, and Preeda, she sees Tida and Priya as her daughters now. She doesn't have much interest in marriage or romance. A history of abuse partially plays into this, but it just isn't her thing. She likes being independent in that regard.

Hansa

Introduced: Chapter 22 of Progression, but versions of her character are also mentioned/included in The Masks Series, Lay Me Down to Sleep, and I Do (Not Understand What's Going On).

Age: 26

Profession: Horticulturist/Florist

Characteristics: Quiet, Non-judgmental, cautious, kind, carries a lot of trauma, but has been doing better

Importance: Arm's younger sister, Pol's love interest.

Origin: Roughly 18 months younger than Arm, Hansa was the person he was closest to growing up. In both this story and in 5, 3, 1, and On (although she had it even harder in 531). But in Progression, they grew up in an extremely abusive home where they were all traumatized, but the foster father took a particular interest in Hansa. Arm is protective of all of his sisters, but particularly her. She has been hurt a lot and struggled with her mental health when she was in her late teens to early twenties, but found solace in gardening and watching things bloom. She wants to find love, but the last time she tried went horribly. Other than Arm, she struggles with feeling comfortable around men. She was surprised to find Pol so friendly, fun, and approachable. Now that Arm and Tankhun are together and reach out more to spend time as a group, they often bring Pol. She actually looks forward to seeing him.

Nalin

Introduced in: Chapter 22 of Progression, but versions of her character are also mentioned/included in The Masks Series, Lay Me Down to Sleep, and I Do (Not Understand What's Going On).

Age: 20

Profession: Robotics Major, student librarian at university library

Characteristics: Highly intelligent, quick witted, smooth, tech-savvy, a romantic deep down.

Importance: Arm's younger sister, Macau's love interest.

Origin: Basically a mini female Arm, but more charismatic. Her main interests lie in further integrating and advancing robotics when it comes to the medical field and to help those living with disabilities live more freely and comfortably in their day to day lives. While she works hard and is a top student at her university, she is occasionally known to have fun. She did meet Macau at a party and had a night with him that felt magical. Is he an idiot for dropping his phone into a grate? Yes. Did she hold a grudge so she wouldn't feel sadness and rejection? Yes. But that's cleared up now, and they have been talking multiple times a day since her brother's party. She doesn't know if Arm will be thrilled about her potentially dating his boyfriend's cousin, and she loves and looks up to her older brother so much. But she likes Macau, so...🤷🏻‍♀️

Preeda

Introduced in: Chapter 22 of Progression, but versions of her character are also mentioned/included in The Masks Series, Lay Me Down to Sleep, and I Do (Not Understand What's Going On).

Age: 18 going on 19

Profession: Gap year. Looking into colleges, having fun until then.

Characteristics: confident, flirtatious, indecisive, attention seeking, challenging, family-oriented.

Importance: Arm's youngest sister

Origin: The youngest of Arm's foster siblings. Despite being the youngest when removed from their abusive situation, she witnessed a lot, which has caused certain rebellions, impulses, and avoidances in her. Her family worries, but keeps communication open. This helps, because she feels free and happy to talk with her siblings and share things with them. Came out as a lesbian at 15 and never looked back. Wishes Arm were more flamboyant and obvious in his own gay-leaning tendencies, so she's glad he's dating Tankhun, who is fabulous.

[varenykmeson]

The ages in Gungrave games and Gungrave anime do not match up: an unhinged rant

Hello and welcome to "Varenykmeson goes on a long tirade about discrepancies in ages of fictional characters".

Apologies for any mistakes (English is not my native language) and strap in because this post gets pretty long:

The games tell us little to nothing so I had to refer to the Gungrave Archives, copy of which I do not possess, and therefore had to scrape off all the following information from this video on YT and especially this page (approx. 7:00 time mark):

Even though the quality of the screenshot is pretty ... bad, with some desperate squinting you can dig up this information:

Beyond the Grave - Age: 29 (at time of death) Mika Asagi - Age: 14 Dr. T (Tokioka) - Age: Late 50's Bob Poundmax - Age: Around 33 Balladbird Lee - Age: Around 35 (unfortunately, the paragraph for Bear Walken is an accidental copy of Bunji's. Shame.) Bunji Kugashira - Age: Around 36 Harry McDowell - Age: 42 Big Daddy - Age: Mid 50's (at the beginning of the story) Maria Asagi - Age: 29 (at the beginning of the story)

Now, is that consistent with the information in the anime?

Well-

When it comes to Brandon himself, according to his tombstone in episode 15 he died at age 27, which is slightly off.

(also on an unrelated note, damn, the anime is taking place really far in the future and also guess we now have an official date for the infamous elevator incident :( )

Mika is mostly likely 13 years old (or 12 and approaching 13) in the anime as in episode 18 Bear and Lee say that Brandon has been dead for 13 years. Also, in episode 17 Maria says that "it's been our 13th winter here".

If we try to figure out Harry's age then things get slightly messy because from episode 26 we know that he is the same age as Brandon (he pulls out a 43 year old bottle of bourbon and says it was made the same year he and Brandon were born). However that contradicts the fact that Brandon died aged 27 and then is "dead" for the next 13 years, therefore Harry should be 40. To make things even "worse", when Harry pulled the same bourbon trick on Big Daddy in episode 15, which takes place shortly after Brandon's death, he claims that the bottle is 28 years old. Help.

Now this section might get somewhat unhinged.

In episode 7 Bob compiles a file on Bunji, which is also shown on screen.

The whole thing is full of grammatical mistakes and general nonsense, but the first line says "This man appears to be in his 15 years old and has the characteristic skin." (????), which,

well,

if that information is true then this is the roughest anime teenager I've seen in my whole life (and i've seen the Stardust Crusaders OVA).

Now, in episode 15 Widge tells Maria that Brandon was 17/18 when he worked for him and Gary, which means that in episode 7 (which as the name implies takes place "5 years later") Brandon must've been 22 or 23. If you pair that with the fact that he dies at 27 and returns 13 years later, then approximately 18 years have passed between Bunji's introduction in episode 7 and episode 17 (5 years of working with Brandon + 13 years during which Brandon is presumed "completely dead") in which the anime timeline arrives to the plot of the first game, and Bunji would be somewhere in his mid 30's.

On the other hand the ages for Bob and Lee do not add up at all.

They are both introduced in episode 5 and the issue is pretty much evident right away as if we went by the ages in the book, they both would be younger than Bunji (33 and 35 respectively). Since Bunji is approx. 15 in the episode 7, here he would be a measly 10 year old and these two definitely aren't children.

Also, in the english dub Lee introduces himself as "Balladbird Lee, Esquire", which means this bastard is already a full fledged lawyer (however, in English subtitles for the Japanese dub there was no mention of this and he introduces himself just by his name).

As for Maria, we know that in episode 6 she is atleast 15 or 16 because Jester adopts her as an infant (shown in episode 3) and Big Daddy tells Brandon that it happened 15 years ago. However, in episode 25 Harry says that she seems to be same age or older than him and in episode 7 she tells Brandon that she used to view him as her "little brother".

I don't think there's been any mention of Dr. T's or Big Daddy's age.

TL;DR: help.

[aita-blorbos]

(Long story, au so far removed from canon it might as well be ocs at this point)

AITA for cheating on my wife?

(TW child abuse, religious trauma/abuse, homophobia, death of a child, cancer)

I (34M) have been married to my wife, L (35F) for 15 years. We got married shortly after I turned 18, because that is the norm in the church we both grew up in. L has been my best friend since I was very young, we have always been part of a group within our church of people around our ages (currently 30-36, three other men and two other women). Our church is extremely conservative and restrictive, best described as a fundamentalist evangelical Christian church, and extremely tight-knit and small. I was born into it, as were most members of the church, and because of how close everyone is, there's very much an attitude of "us vs the outside world."

The home I grew up in was worse than miserable. My mother joined the church as a teenager, which is not very common, and married my father barely a few years later, as soon as she turned 18. My father is nine years older than her, and a piece of shit. Neither of them are good parents, but my father was extremely abusive to her and to his children for as long as I can remember. My mother was also abusive to myself and my little sister, but never to the physical extent that my father was, she tended much more towards emotional abuse. This is relevant because one of the reasons L became my best friend, and one of the reasons our whole group means so much to me, is that they listened to me when I said the way my parents treated us was far beyond the norm, even for other families that believed in the idea of "spare the rod, spoil the child." Every child in our church was spanked or sent to bed hungry, but not every child was held home "sick" from school for a week to hide the evidence of how bad things got when their father had a bad day at work. Whenever I tried to tell anybody who had actual power about the way my sister and I were being treated, I was brushed off as a kid who didn't understand consequences. L never did that, and neither did anybody else in our group.

My sister was born when I was eight. Her name was Kayla. When I was fifteen and she was seven, she was diagnosed with leukemia. When I was sixteen and she was eight, she passed away. L and our other friends were my rocks during that time, as my home life only got worse as my parents fed off the sympathy of others and took out their financial stress from the medical bills on me. This was when L and I first discussed the possibility of marriage once we were both eighteen and sort of started seeing each other. I say sort of because it wasn't like we dated, exactly, as boys and girls were pretty heavily discouraged from spending one-on-one time together, and things didn't really change that much between us, or in the dynamic of our group, which at that time was much smaller because a four year age gap is much larger at 12 and 16 than it is now, when the youngest of our friend group is 30 and the oldest is 36. We just knew that we were planning on getting married, and a few months before my eighteenth birthday, we talked to her parents, my parents, and the pastor of our church, and everybody agreed that we would get married once I graduated high school, a few months after I turned 18. Then I would go to college, law school, everything I had always planned to do to start a career to support my eventual family, and once I had settled into a career, she would be the housewife she had always expected to be.

Before I get to the next part of the story, let me make something extremely clear. I love L. I have loved her since we were children, and I will love her until the day I die, no matter what happens. It's a fact about me that I will never escape because she was there for me and made sure I knew that I was loved in the worst times and moments of my life, and that means everything to me.

However, that love has never been romantic.

I realized that I was gay when I was 12 years old. It was an extremely traumatic realization for me; I was physically sick to my stomach for days and experienced some of the only true panic attacks I've ever had in the days after that. I didn't tell anybody because, as you might imagine, the attitude towards gay people in our church is not exactly friendly. Quite the opposite, in fact. I knew that if I told anybody, even my best friends or the pastor of our church, that I would be an outcast and treated like garbage. I hated myself, and I was convinced that if I was a good enough Christian, God would take the burden of homosexuality away from me and make me straight like I knew I should be. I prayed for so long that my knees bled from kneeling, and I threw myself into the church like never before. I led youth groups and bible studies, volunteered to teach Sunday school, I went to both Sunday services and the mid-week service every week, I was in my pastor's office asking questions and discussing theology constantly, and still, I never had any interest in any girls and couldn't stop the random thoughts about boys from popping into my head. Puberty only made things worse.

By the time my sister died, I had convinced myself that if I found the right woman, I would eventually love her the way I was supposed to. Something in me shattered when Kayla died, and as L supported me through it, I decided that she would be the woman I loved and married.

It didn't work like that. Obviously. A few years ago, after more than a decade of marriage and still the constant prayers and begging God to "fix" me, my faith slowly died. Looking back, I almost can't believe how long it took for me to realize that if God couldn't protect me from my parents, and couldn't heal my sister, and couldn't "fix" my sexuality, then why was I spending so much of my time and effort worshipping him? Once the resentment took hold, I slowly stopped believing in everything I had been taught since I was a kid. I had always been very good at compartmentalizing, keeping the church and my faith and beliefs completely separate from the "worldly" knowledge I needed as a lawyer and to get through school. Even when I was in college and law school, there was this constant caveat of "I need to know this (ie evolution) to get a passing grade, but I know the Truth as it's found in God's word." As I very slowly started questioning things, that dichotomy started to break down in my head. If I believed in DNA, which had been proven by science, why shouldn't I believe in evolution, which was also supported by science? If I can trust archeological and geological dating on things like ancient structures in the Middle East and artifacts that support bible stories, why can't I trust those same geologists who say the Earth is billions of years old? The logic started eating away at the things I believed, and what started as resentment towards God turned into apathy, turned into agnosticism, turned into atheism. At this point in time, I would consider myself an atheist.

I didn't know how to talk about any of this with anybody. I didn't have any friends who weren't also in the church, not even at work, where I rarely talked to anybody about anything not directly work-related. I knew if I tried to talk to L about it, especially the part where one of the things it stemmed from was my being gay and lying to her about my feelings and attraction to her for years, at best, she would try to convince me to talk to the pastor about it and at worst, she would tell everyone, and I would lose every important person in my life. So I didn't. I kept acting like everything was the same, going to church and work and bible study, leading worship music on Sunday mornings. It was eating me alive, but I didn't know what else to do.

I'm not usually an impulsive person. I love planning and knowing exactly what is about to happen. It's not like me at all to do something on impulse. But one night, after work, and after months of trying to figure out what to do about my whole life being a miserable lie, I texted my wife that I had to stay late to finish some work for a case and not to wait up for me, and I went to a gay bar. It was my first time in any bar, actually, and very much my first time acting on anything when it came to my sexuality.

There was a guy there. I mean, there were many men there, but there was one I couldn't look away from. It wasn't just that he was physically attractive, though he was beautiful, it was how free he was. He was dancing and wearing makeup and had his fingernails painted, and it made my chest hurt to look at him and wonder who I would have been if I could have been so free. And he clearly liked the look of me, too, because he came up to me when I'd been inside for a few minutes and asked me to dance, and one thing led to another and I went home with him. It was the first time I had sex with somebody other than my wife, obviously, and it was also the first time I ever felt like I understood what sex was supposed to be about, because I was actually attracted to the person I was having sex with. Was it perfect? No. I had no idea what I was doing because I've never done it before, but it was fun. I smiled without faking it for the first time in a long time, and he even made me laugh.

He gave me his number before I left. I started texting him at work the next day, and never stopped. It's been around five months, and I'm a little bit scared to admit that I think I might be falling in love with him.

As far as I know, he doesn't know that I'm married. My wife obviously doesn't know, and I don't know how I would even begin to tell her. I know I have to tell him that I'm married and that I've already waited too long. He deserves better than I've given him. But I'm scared that if I tell my wife, she'll tell everyone at church, and I'll lose every semblance of a support system that I've ever had.

So, AITA for cheating on my wife with a man and having no idea how to move forward?

[gvzelarchiveeee]

*      diane guerrero   .   cis woman   .   she/her   .      /      that’s   fabienne   ramirez stone  walking    into   mama's bakery   -   you   know   ,   the   thirty6   year   old   former   actress   known   for   being   a   successful   emmy   award   winning   actress   but   not   returning   back   on   screen   after   her   marriage      ?   having   lived   here   for   three   years   ,   their   neighbors   know   them   to   be   caring   &   loyal   ,   but   their   stubborn   &   insecure   tendencies   shine   through   when   there   are   no   buses   in   the   city   .   － penned by dee. she/her. 26. gmt+1.

📎 : interactions , pinterest , wanted connections

hellowies   ,   it's   your   girl   dee   again   with   another   muse   teheh .   you   know   the   stepsss;   like   this   post   or   never   hesitate   to   message   me   for   plots   !

⚠️   trigger   warning!   this   bio   contains   subjects   such   as:   loss of family members,

*   =   means   wanted   connection   !

BIOGRAPHY :

NAME    :    fabienne    ramirez   -   stone

NICKNAME(S)    :    fab,   fabi

DATE    OF    BIRTH    :    september    20    1987    (36)

PLACE    OF    BIRTH    :    princeton   ,   new   jersey

PARENTS    :    maria   vargas    ramirez    (mother),    andrés    ramirez    (father)

SIBLINGS    :    3   siblings ˒    ﹏   ramirez   (   30   )   *   open ˒    ﹏   ramirez   (   39   )   *   open ˒    ﹏   ramirez   (   42   )   *   open

LANGUAGES    :    english   &   spanish

OCCUPATION    :    former   actress   ,   currently   unemployed

RELATIONSHIP    STATUS    :    married   to   joseph    stone (    +    )    positive    traits    :    caring   &   loyal (    -    )    negative    traits    :    stubborn   &   insecure

AGE 0 － 10 :

fabienne   was   born   into   a   loving   household.   a   big   family   living   together   with   their   grandparents   (her   father's   parents).

she   grew   up   in   a   household   where   there   was   a   lot   talent.   her   grandparents   fell   in   love   after   meeting   each   other   when   they   were   both   casted   in   a   musical   play.   her   grandfather   was   the   leader   of   a   musical   director   and   her   grandmother   was   a   stage   director.   both   they   have   been   doing   shows   together   and   they   were   really   succesful   too.

all   her   siblings,   cousins   would   be   sitting   by   the   fire   pit   and   listen   to   the   lovey-dovey   story   of   their   grandparents   falling   in   love   together.

their   dad   is   really   musically   too.   he   loves   to   play   the   piano   and   that's   definitely   something   he   taught   his   children.

their   mom   is   amazing   in   art.   their   house   was   decorated   with   beautifully   self-made   art.   whether   it   was   a   beautiful   painting   or   a   ceramic   vase.

fabienne   has   been   interested   in   theater   since   she   was   five.   she   would   dress �� up   everyday   and   come   out   her   room;   pretending   to   have   a   big   show   going   on.

their   grandparents   would   often   take   them   to   different   kind   of   musicals   and   spend   time   together.

AGE 10 － 25 :

sadly,   at   the   age   of   twelve   her   grandmother   passed   away   and   just   a   year   later   her   grandfather   passed   away.

fabienne   continued   in   doing   theater   and   at   the   age   of   fifteen   she   got   her   first   role   in   a   short   grocery   store   commercial.

no   matter   how   old   she   got;   every   time   whenever   she   got   a   new   role   it   would   remind   her   of   how   possibly   proud   her   grandparents   were   of   her.

after   her   first   short   role   in   a   commercial   she   got   offered   to   be   a   part   of   different   kind   of   tv   shows   ;   (   shows   such   as   hannah   montana   ,   icarly   ,   victorious   ,   superior   donuts   ,   jane   the   virgin   ,   modern   family   ,   new   girl   -   vibe   ish   etc.   mostly   sitcoms   )

after   getting   a   lot   of   roles   in   tv   shows   she   also   got   a   few   movie   roles;   not   just   romcoms   but   also   ones   with   lots   of   action.

AGE 26 － 36 :

at   the   age   of   26   she   got   her   first   emmy   award;   and   that   was   only   the   beginning.

when   turning   30   she   had   already   receiver   10   emmy   awards   for   her   acting   in   different   kind   of   roles.   she   wasn't   acting   to   just   receive   emmy's;   she   was   acting   because   she   loved   to.   and   no   matter   how   old   she   got;   she   kept   wondering   how   proud   her   grandparents   would've   been   of   her.

no   matter   the   much   fame   she   had,   she   always   visited   back   home   at   least   once   a   month   to   see   her   parents   and   her   family.   they   always   welcomed   her   with   open   arms   and   always   kept   rooting   for   her   with   every   step   she   took.

at   the   age   of   __   she   started   dating   joseph   stone,   a   heir   by   then.   the   soon   their   names   hit   the   tabloids;   the   less   project   offers   she   was   getting.   despite   that   her   name   was   still   on   the   tabloids.   with   every   step   she   took;   the   paparazzi   would   follow   her   and   the   day   after   she   would   find   herself   on   every   social   media.   of   course;   she   should've   been   used   by   now   to   see   herself   on   newspapers   or   on   social   media   news   channels,   but   more   because   of   her   new   projects   or   either   because   she   had   received   again   an   award.   but   this   time,   people   would   judge   the   way   she   dressed   or   just   talk   about   her   relationship   with   joseph.

more   tba   about   marriage   with   joseph   stone   !

if   you’re   interested   in   plotting   with   me,   hit   the   ♡   button   and   i’ll   come   and   bother   you!   or   you   can   always   send   me   a   message,   too.   i   also   am on   discord   so   if   you   feel   like   plotting   on   there   we   totally   can!

[dawn-falls]

Do you know what time it is? Time for BSD OCs! This time, I'll be bringing something mentioned on my previous OC post of the Younger Siblinghood: the Shield Society!

The Shield Society is small, but very popular amongst the army, having even aided and been aided by the Hunting Dogs themselves. They take on medium level missions to high level missions, such as Lyubov Dostoievskaya herself. This post will have a different kind of description from the previous one, because I think this is better for me, thank you.

Yukio Mishima: Captain of the Shield Society

Aliases: Kimitake Hiraoka

Age: 17, but pretends he's 42

Ability: Deception of a Mask (Confessions of a Mask)

— Allows him to shape-shift into any other form he wants, being it other people or some small alteration of himself.

— Needs to have seen said form.

— Can copy the voice if heard or imagined it, depending on what form he takes.

— Cannot copy abilities, but can copy physical abilities, like strength and speed.

The young Yukio Mishima has been pretending to be an adult while wearing the military uniform of the Shield Society. He lives a double life, with struggles from both double identities and school. He's not simply pretending to be someone else, he's pretending to be his father, the previous captain of the unit, after he passed away when he was 12. Why? That's a long story to explain another time. The Shield Society knows about his true identity of a kid, but won't say or do anything, they might say that it's to not earn any weird comments or lose their honour, but it's more than that.

He's gay, and is kinda afraid of admitting it, but he has told his unit about it and they're okay with it. One of the members enjoyed that fact a little bit too much. He has been in a relationship with a teenage girl named Sonoko, related to another military unit that went to the same school as his, while being in love with a boy named Omi. Both were killed during his 14s.

He's very insecure of himself, tends to have silent breakdowns when alone and takes to easily admire those strict, tall, good-looking, strong and organised men with powerful physiques or abilities and leadership skills. Some examples of those are Ōchi Fukuchi, Suehiro Tecchō, Yukichi Fukuzawa and his most recent and top of the list, Doppo Kunikida. Changes his personality a lot based on his surroundings, such as the unit, school and with the ADA. Some of his current close friends are Hideaki Sena, Mari Mori, Jun'ichiro Tanizaki, Yasunari Kawabata and Marcel Proust.

• Yukio Mishima is the main core of the SS, which means lots of characters here we're chosen for a certain connection with him.

• Used his real life story to make his character, so for more reference, check his background! Just warning that there will be mentions of suicide by seppuku (beheading), so go with the warning and caution over that.

Hiromi Kawakami: Vice-captain of the Shield Society

Age: 36

Ability: Tread on a Snake (Novel with same name)

— Can turn into a giant snake

— Has fangs due to that

— Her bite will poison the bitten (but at will, no accidents)

— Her skin is very hard, bullets barely tickle

Hiromi Kawakami is considered one of the very few "pioneer Shield soldiers", since she was part of the unit multiple years before Yukio's father's death. Reached the vice-captain position easily and was a little annoyed at the situation of forced promotion that Yukio had to become captain (unwillingly). Tends to be very calm and collected, and some even say she's the mother of the unit.

Has rescued Mari back when she and her brother lost each other, becoming her mentor, as well as Yukio's (since he surely needed advice, he barely had much idea of what to do as the captain). Both quickly rose in power and strategy, and she's proud of them. Of lately, she has grown a small obsession on seeking Mieko Kawakami, the doctor of a small mafia and former singer that she had an acquaintance with, as visible whenever she's allowed to take over for Yukio during his "outside businesses".

• One of the only two that had no relation or connection whatsoever with RL Yukio Mishima.

• Real Life Mieko and Hiromi never met each other that I'm aware, I just wanted to use it because I found it sillily funny that they have the same surname and kanji for said surname. Not that it's impossible, just wanted to mess with it.

Mari Mori was explained on the previous post, but this is just to put depth of her role in the SS. Check the previous OC post to find her ability and more.

Mari Mori is far from a paragon of a soldier in terms of behaviour, but can be a great example of a soldier physique and physical abilities. Her speed is almost unmatchable, and that is with no ability. She's considered to be the best friend of the captain, mostly because she's the second youngest of the unit, losing to the captain himself only, who she's more than happy to share her male-male romance novels with, and confident on doing so, because he won't judge the love, but might judge the storyline written. She doesn't care, honestly, good criticism is accepted.

• Daughter of Ōgai Mori known for her male-male romances, which were read by Yukio Mishima.

Ruikō Kuroiwa: The biggest brain

Age: 26

Ability: Muzan (Novel with same name)

— Allows him to manifest two sides of his brain: Intuition and Logic

— Both look exactly like Kuroiwa, but Intuition is a sorta red vision of him while Logic is blue

— Intuition sometimes acts as reflex and instinct, mostly being listened to in combat rather than in investigation and interrogation, with Logic taking over that aspect. Intuition also helps him figure out things like poison on a cup or a hidden knife, while Logic helps him figure out locations of evidence

— His brain sides can be separated and stay invisible for others, with only Kuroiwa seeing them

— They can go away from Kuroiwa, but if they start going far, he will start to doze off, like sleeping with eyes open. If they're far enough, he might not react to his surroundings

Ruikō Kuroiwa is a young soldier that may not be considered one of the pioneer soldiers of the SS, due to him joining just a few years before the former captain died, but he's a brilliant and loved soldier known for both his great physical abilities and his great intelligence, that may not be close to Ranpo Edogawa or Yukito Ayatsuji (who he met and is having a small problem with), but is still very impressive.

A huge fan, and calls himself the number one, of Ranpo Edogawa. Would love to work alongside him and is not afraid to admit said admiration towards the man. He's considered to be a fanboy in terms of excessiveness, and some even theorise he started working as an investigative soldier because of him. Usually is the one after evidence of others and hidden documents, since his ability can separate and sneak into places and get stuff without being caught or noticed. Considered to be one of the greatest pieces of the unit, even if not the greatest in terms of combat.

He firstly made acquaintance with Natsuko Imamura, and then went ahead and met Yukito Ayatsuji and Mizuki Tsujimura. Later on, he met Ranpo, Poe and Mushitarō, as well as Agatha Christie and Yōko Ogawa, due to some incidents involving a group called the Falkner.

Kōbō Abe: The Arrester

Age: 24

Ability: The Woman in the Dunes (Novel with same name)

— Traps people in a house in the dunes

— Can either trap everyone inside the same room as his or the particular people he touches, depends on his wishes of who to trap

— The longer people stay in the house, the less they want to leave

— Abilities don't work in the house

Kōbō Abe started of as a pupil of Jun Ishikawa back in a private academy for ability users, and soon joined the military unit Shield Society after catching the attention of the previous captain, Azusa Mishima. He tried his best to avoid a life in the battlefield, but thanks to his father and the previous SS captain, it was all in vain.

A man who tends to play with memories of himself and others (good or bad, anything to his advantage), Abe is often in the front line, usually side by side with Mishima or Kuroiwa, whose abilities are not very fit for combat. Can be considered ruthless and cruel, but just to those he views as an opponent and/or threat. Is not afraid of being honest, and that led to a few beefs with other soldiers from other units and some other people. Abe is the person that understands Mishima the most, since both ended up in positions that neither really wanted to be in.

• Has a connection to Yukio Mishima, and even participated of a protest with him, Jun Ishikawa and Yasunari Kawabata.

[jordyn-degas]

I posted 1,866 times in 2022

That's 1,866 more posts than 2021!

128 posts created (7%)

1,738 posts reblogged (93%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@iamthepotato

@uchihabbynic

@skykashi

@sattosugu

@justmyownreality

I tagged 1,059 of my posts in 2022

Only 43% of my posts had no tags

#jordyn reposts - 190 posts

#🐼 jordyn’s favs - 77 posts

#jordyn replies↠asks - 50 posts

#love: ryuuzaa - 36 posts

#anime writing blog - 32 posts

#naruto - 24 posts

#thoughts a la jordyn - 24 posts

#jujutsu kaisen - 23 posts

#anime x reader - 23 posts

#kisses from mama jordyn - 22 posts

Longest Tag: 111 characters

#i wholeheartedly agree that she was written poorly out kishi’s lack of capability of capturing a woman properly

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

The one that got away [2]

Series: Part 1 Part 3

characters: Naruto Uzumaki x fem! reader additional: Shikamaru Nara, Hinata Uzumaki, Boruto Uzumaki, Himawari Uzumaki, Ino Yamanaka(mentioned), Sakura Haruno;

warnings: characters are 21+; fluff; angst; smut; vaginal sex; mutual masturbation; some choking; rough; baby mention but not breeding kink;

notes: a month has passed since the first part - the story will unfold along a period of time - by the time it ends there would be a year in which Naruto and Reader have been together; yes, I wrote a lot, AGAIN, because I most likely have a documented problem in which I cannot keep a story short - forgive me 🤯;

special note: as per always, my extra special love and dedication goes to the best tumblr soulmate there is @uchihamylove26 😍! her inputs and ideas make my days and life better 😳

💀 NSFW! Minors DNI! 💀

Mood 🎧 ALESSIA CARA - Scars to your beautiful

"She don't see her perfect She don't understand she's worth it Or that beauty goes deeper than the surface"

See the full post

384 notes - Posted April 11, 2022

#4

2 am - brainrot

How the hell does this always happen to me? At 2 am my brain simply spits this smut thingy out.

Shit! I'm waking up in 4 hours 😓

warning: Graphic content 18+; NSFW - Minors DNI! ☠️

content: smut; 👅 Naruto x fem!reader x Sasuke 👅; unprotected sex; friends with benefits;

notes: brain rot at 2 am 🤯 - not proof-read - naruto and sasuke have been on my mind for the past two weeks in not a very HOLY way

See the full post

438 notes - Posted March 22, 2022

#3

The one that got away

Series: Part 2 Part 3

characters: Naruto Uzumaki x fem! reader additional: Shikamaru Nara; Hinata Uzumaki; mentions of: Gaara, Boruto Uzumaki and Himawari Uzumaki

warnings: characters are 21+; fluff; smut; vaginal sex; oral (f receiving); a bit of chocking because why the hell not?

💀 NSFW! Minors DNI! 💀

notes: YES! I have been MIA because writer's block 😒 4 am - apparently it's my hour for brain rots LOL 😅

I didn't even read it again after writing it so I have no idea what came out of it to be honest 🤣 I simply needed to get this out of my head.

special note: some light reading for my love, my smut partner and my Naruto soulmate @uchihamylove26 💕💕 enjoy! 😎

Mood 🎧 JNR CHOI & SAM TOMPKINS - To the moon

"Come set the mood, yeah You come like sunshine, yeah Call me the moon"

See the full post

478 notes - Posted April 8, 2022

#2

What if?

characters: Sasuke Uchiha x fem!reader;

additional: Naruto Uzumaki x fem! reader; Sakura Haruno; Orochimaru, Sai, Yamato, Boruto Uzumaki and Himawari Uzumaki have a brief appereance; mention of Kakashi Hatake;

warnings: afab!reader - fem!reader; characters age range vary from children to adults; fluff; angst; emotions all over; mentions of: nudity, subtly implied intercourse, blood and death.

notes: SFW; i'm extremely in my feels today- this song ALWAYS breaks me no matter what - i actually cried throughout writing this, don't ask me why - especially the end - my emotions are all over the place 😊

word count: 4.074 - i'm sorry - my feels got me carried away

taglist: @haikyutiehoe - thank you for being my first ask and requesting to be tagged in this 😭 - hope you like it 🤐

Mood 🎧 LUKAS GRAHAM - 7 years

"It was a big big world, but we thought we were bigger Pushing each other to the limits, we were learning quicker" - "Something about the glory, just always seemed to bore me 'Cause only those I really love will ever really know me"

See the full post

607 notes - Posted March 24, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

𝕊𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕨𝕖'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕖𝕥

Characters: Roronoa Zoro x fem! reader

Warnings: first time writing for him - be patient with me; light smut - MDNI; Zoro fucks you against a door because why the hell not?; yes, there is some alcohol involved; yes, we also have some soft Zoro thrown in there;

See the full post

811 notes - Posted November 19, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[gaps-between-stories]

Fic Preview

A sneak peek at my OFMD/36 Questions AU.

“And I loved who I was with you.”

The more time that passed, the more Stede thought that he might’ve actually escaped his past. After two years of silence, of no attempts to drag him back to New York, or worse, London, he’d thought that they’d finally have a chance. 

“They finally tracked me down after years of running.” First it was the PIs he’d caught lurking in the cul-de-sac, a problem solved quietly with a quick phone call. Izzy had grumbled about sending over Ivan and Fang while still on the clock. 

Ed hadn’t even been in town that weekend. 

After 4 months of hearing nothing else, Stede had naively thought they were in the clear, thought that Ed would never need to know. 

He wouldn’t have, if it weren’t for the next visit 6 months later, this time Chauncey -fucking-Badminton holding Crown papers that he’d torn to shreds. Ed had arrived home just as he was leaving, Stede scrambling for purchase to keep it together under his husband’s questioning. 

That one had been harder to explain away. He’d pulled together some half-baked story about being the beneficiary of his estranged father’s estate, that ‘yes, his father had actually been alive when they first meet,’ but ‘no, I haven't spoken to him in fifteen years,’ and ‘yes, I am certain I was written out of the will,’ and ‘no, none of this effects us, darling, it was the clerical error of an aging family lawyer who should have retired half a decade ago.’ 

Ed hadn’t believed him then. Stede knew he didn’t – Stede knew him better than anyone else, better than himself most days. Edward hadn’t believed him then, but he’d eventually dropped the subject after Stede looked him right in the eyes and lied through his teeth, promising they would be alright. It was a promise he’d had no business making, which he knew then, too, but he was still desperately trying to outpace a live fuse that grew shorter every day. 

“I tried to cling to the life I'd made together with you. So I did the only thing I knew how to: I denied who I was, because I wanted to keep my life, but the better version. Stede – your husband – He was a better person.” 

The final match was struck two weeks later. Edward had opened the door before Stede could get to it, and standing in the doorway was the end of the world – well, the end of Stede’s, anyway. 

“And before I knew what was happening, there was Mary standing at our front door, holding divorce papers, asking you about Stede Bonnet. And I knew instantly.”

She wasn’t even angry. That was the worst part of it all. She stood in that doorway, asking only for her freedom, a second chance at happiness after all of these years. 

“You know, they say before you die your whole life flashes before your very eyes. Well, I can say quite confidently that it didn't the first time. But this time? This time I heard each and every lie I'd ever told you.” Beside him now, Ed’s breath hitched at the memory. 

Stede could remember that day in chilling detail, everything seemingly moving in slow motion. The way that Ed’s knuckles whitened as they gripped the doorknob, the way he slowly turned to look at Stede, chest rising and falling like waves crashing against the hull of a ship. The look on Ed’s face had seared itself into Stede’s memory, haunting him every time he closed his eyes since. 

They’d found themselves sitting in the living room, Ed listening silently as she explained the way her painting career had taken off since finding her painting instructor - her now fiance - a man who made her desperately happy, who the children had taken to like he was their own, who would marry her tomorrow if she’d allow him. That she wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for the small issue of their technically still legal marriage. 

Stede had signed those papers without hesitation.

Much to his relief, they had been more than taken care of financially in his absence, his father allowing them a not insignificant bursary following Stede’s abandonment to keep them quiet about it, followed by a sizable inheritance after his death. 

The children were thriving now, Alma was sharp as a whip and Louis was sweet as can be, all of them having relocated to Toronto to be closer to Doug’s family – ‘they have grandparents now, Stede’ she’d told him. She’d even left a couple of photographs, and an open invitation to call. 

Stede had tried to listen, to focus his attention on the multitude of wonderful news Mary was telling him. But beyond his initial relief that he hadn’t permanently scarred them, he couldn’t truly divert his attention away from the growing angst coming from the corner Edward was sitting in. 

When Mary finally swept out of their door an hour later, leaving the men alone again, the silence between them was suffocating. 

Stede had desperately tried to bridge the divide, ‘please let me explain, my love.’ 

Ed had slowly stood from his seat, and Stede had watched him cross the living room, through the kitchen, into the foyer, wordlessly pocketing his keys and wallet as he went, before walking out the door. 

That was the last time Stede had seen him before this morning. 

Stede would walk that route dozens of times, recreating the path the love of his life took out of his life. 

His words came out in a whisper, now. “I memorized your voice and how you say goodbye. But you never said goodbye –” his voice caught on the words, an accusation, a plea. “You never said goodbye, Edward, and I – I tried desperately to hold on to our life, to who I was with you.

“And I understood that you needed space, time. But you left, Ed, you left and you didn't say goodbye and I waited. I waited. I counted and I waited and you wouldn’t answer your phone and Izzy wouldn’t tell me where you were and it was like I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t – I didn’t – I don’t know how to breathe without you.”

[aurorabayrpg]

we have 3 new wanted connections!

[ASTRID HANSLEY (MARGOT ROBBIE )] is looking for their [YOUNGER SISTER/BROTHER ].

[CHEY JOHNSON (JENNIFER LAWRENCE)] is looking for their [BROTHER].

[LENNON BURKE (BARRY KEOGHAN)] is looking for their [TWO YOUNGER BROTHERS].

[ASTRID HANSLEY (MARGOT ROBBIE )] is looking for their [YOUNGER SISTER/BROTHER ]. They are [YOUNGER THAN 32], and look an awful lot like [EMMA MACKEY, SAMARA WEAVING, ANYONE WHO CAN PASS AS HER SISTER/ BROTHER ]. Muns [DO NOT] have to contact mun before applying.

Tw: drug and alcohol addiction, child abuse, neglect, adoption

Astrid was born to two horrible parents that didn’t really care about her. They were two addicts (drugs and alcohol) they would leave Astrid alone for days as an infant and one day their neighbour called child services on them. She was taken away and was adopted at 4. Recently she wanted to see what happened with her biological parents so she hired a PI and found out that she has a sister/brother who probably suffered the same fate. She wanted to get to know her sibling.

[CHEY JOHNSON (JENNIFER LAWRENCE)] is looking for their [BROTHER]. They are [36-41], and look an awful lot like [BOYD HOLBROOK, GLEN POWELL, UTP]. Muns [DO] have to contact mun before applying.

Chey has three older brothers, but she is closest to the eldest in the family - Cameron Johnson. They hail from Texas and have always had a pretty tight relationship. Cameron was always there for her in the worst moments of her life. They bonded over music & movies growing up and Chey owes most of her interest in the subject to him. Chey moved out to California for college and it didn’t take long for Cameron to move out there, as well. They are each other's biggest supporters, but still act like typical siblings through and through.

The rest of his info is completely UTP, but I'm happy to answer any questions or give suggestions! 

[LENNON BURKE (BARRY KEOGHAN)] is looking for their [TWO YOUNGER BROTHERS]. They are [BETWEEN TWENTY-TWO AND TWENTY-SIX YEARS OLD], and look an awful lot like [TOM GLYNN CARNEY, DYLAN ARNOLD, FINN COLE, JACKSON WHITE, OPEN TO SUGGESTIONS FOR FCS THAT COULD LOOK ALIKE!]. Muns [DO] have to contact mun before applying. [trigger warning for drug use, addiction, drug overdose, death]

The Burke brothers moved to the states when Lennon was twelve to chase after their deserting father. However, when he turned fourteen, their mother was deported and the boys were suppose to be sent for but never were. Their dual citizenship through their father who they were unable to contact allowed them to stay in the country. They ended up getting placed in the foster system but the four of them were separated. The eldest Burke brother, Regan, was suppose to adopt them since he was a legal adult but fell down the wrong path. He overdosed, and the remaining Burke brothers left to track down who sold him the drugs that were tainted. The boys remained separated in the system until Lennon aged out and was able to use his connections with the police department being a rat for their narcotics team to get good word put in for him. The younger Burke boys today, however, remain in and out rehab with Lennon paying for their treatment and even to have an eye kept on them when they've been discharged. 

[bioocs]

Character name: Blake

About:

AGE: Age when cursed: 36

BIRTH DATE:  1831/May/23.

GENDER:  Male.  

HEIGHT : 5'10"

World History

Character biography:

BLAKE WAS BORN AS A NORMAL HUMAN LIKE MOST, HE LIVED A RELATIVELY NORMAL LIFE IN THE WILD WEST; HIS FATHER, ALTHOUGH A CRIMINAL, FELL IN LOVE WITH HIS MOTHER, ENDED UP LEAVING THE CRIME WORLD, AND SETTLE IN WITH A FAMILY. HE WAS BORN NOT KNOWING THAT HIS FATHER HAD A LOT OF ENEMIES. AS TIME PASSED BY, HAVING TO LIVE HIS LIFE, MARRIED, AND HAD CHILDREN, AND THE TIME CAME WHERE CONFRONTED WITH HIS FATHER’S ENEMY.  A STRANGE BOX LEFT BY HIS FATHER, HIS FATHER TOLD HIM IT WAS TO BE KEPT AS A SECRET AND HIDDEN FROM ANYONE WHO TRIES TO OPEN IT. THE BOX ITSELF SEALS AN EVIL WITCH, SHE WAS SEALED BY A GROUP OF HUNTERS, AND THE BOX ITSELF WAS GUARDED, BUT THE OWNER DIED WHEN HIS FATHER RAIDED THEIR HOME. STEALING THE BOX WITH HIM ONLY TO FIND OUT LATER WHAT WAS REALLY INSIDE. ANYONE WHO DARES TO OPEN IT WOULD UNSEAL THE EVIL LURK WITHIN. ONE NIGHT IT WAS ACCIDENTALLY OPENED BY HIS CHILDREN, NOT KNOWING WHAT IT WAS AS HE WAS QUIET TO SPEAK. BLAKE PAID A HIGH PRICE FOR THE MISTAKE. THE HOUSE BURNED WITH BLACK FIRE, KILLING BOTH HIS CHILDREN AND WIFE.

BLAKE WAS TURNED INTO AN IMMORTAL, THE WITCH CURSED HIM TO WALK THE EARTH FOREVER AND MAKE SURE HE WOULD WATCH HIS FAMILY DIE. HE WAS ALSO CURSED TO CHANGE INTO A SKELETON AT THE NIGHT ONLY WHILE STAYING A HUMAN DURING THE DAY.

Blake’s family was poor ever since he was born, despite his father being a very famously known outlaw. His father wasn’t there and had to leave his family, due to his namesake. Not wanting to cause harm to his family. Although, despite it all, they still caught on. Now having to deal with dangerous people, and having nowhere to run, sadly blake’s mother died due to tuberculosis. Blake alone had to basically slave his lives away. blake was 10 at the time.

It was hard, gruesome and they didn’t treat him as human. Through all hardship, he still smiled, smiling for his mother who he knew was watching over him. This is where he learns to talk politely, cause if he didn’t, he’ll get punished. At the age of 20, The society around him was too new for a child who never experienced it, and he’ll learn it the harsh way. Even at this age, he was innocent and gullible.

Blake would go back to serve someone because that’s the only thing he knew. The good thing about it this time was, it wasn’t under a harsh ruler, he’ll take odd jobs like washing dishes, cleaning, etc. Two years later he’ll meet his soon-to-be wife. He’ll meet her at night when she was crying. She told him the story of her husband, an abusive man, whom she had to leave with her children. It takes years before they fall in love, blake would help her through a lot of hardship, and get to know her children.

He’ll love them dearly, even if he’ll never have children of his own. While he would be looked down upon, since he did live with a woman who was married before, despite all name calls, he still loved her. They’ll have a small marriage only the kids as audience and a priest to confirm them. Working hard for another two years, Blake would eventually buy a small land to farm with his family. They’ll live happily. That is, until five years later when the incident happens and he’ll lose them.

Personality:

BLAKE IS A TIRED INDIVIDUAL, WHO IS ALSO ANGRY AND BITTER ABOUT HIS LIFE AS A WHOLE. YET, BEHIND THAT LOOK HE IS THE MOST CARING INDIVIDUAL YOU’LL EVER SEE. BLAKE IS WHAT YOU CALL AN INNOCENT SOUL, HE CAN’T BAT AN EYE AWAY FROM TROUBLED PEOPLE, HAS TO SAVE THOSE WHO ARE IN NEED, AND WOULD RATHER GIVE HIS LIFE UP FOR THEM. SOMETIMES HE’S A SHY INDIVIDUAL WITH SOCIALIZING SINCE IT HAS BEEN 100 OF YEARS SINCE HE EVER REALLY TALKED WITH SOMEONE PERSONALLY WHICH ALSO LEADS TO AWKWARDNESS. HE IS ALSO A LEARNER, TRIES TO UNDERSTAND THE WORLD AROUND HIM, AND IS GRATEFUL THAT THE CURSE CHOOSES HIM, RATHER THAN SOMEONE ELSE. NOT WANTING TO BURDEN ANYONE.

BLAKE NEVER GETS ANGRY WITH PEOPLE, HE IS RATHER GULIBE IN HIS OWN RIGHT AND THOSE AROUND HIM DO FEEL SORRY FOR THE MAN. HE DOESN’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THE FUTURE. BLAKE IS ALSO CURIOUS ABOUT HIS SURROUNDINGS, HE WOULD RATHER LEARN ABOUT WHAT’S IN FRONT OF HIM AND LOVES TO READ THE STORY BEHIND IT ALL. BEING THE CURIOUS ONE HE IS, HE WOULD ASK QUESTIONS STRANGE TO SOME, BUT SEEING HOW HE HAD NEVER SEEN ANYTHING OR LEARNED ENOUGH, THE WORLD AROUND HIM WOULD SEEM NEW. LEARNING ANYTHING WITH JOY IN HIS HEART.  

WITH A BIG HEART, BLAKE TENDS TO GET ATTACHED TO PEOPLE PRETTY EASILY. ONCE YOU TEAR DOWN THE SHY WALL AROUND HIM, HE IS A GREAT PERSON TO BE AROUND WITH. BLAKE IS A LISTENER, AND IF YOU’RE FEELING DOWN AND NEED SOMEONE TO TALK WITH OR SHOULDER TO CRY ON BLAKE IS THE BEST PERSON TO DO SO, HE WON’T FEEL BURDENED BY THE EMOTION THAT IS SHOWN, ONLY BECAUSE HE KNOWS HOW IT FEELS.

Abilities:

BLAKE IS IMMORTAL AND WOULDN���T DIE FROM ANY NORMAL WEAPONS THAT ARE THROWN HIS WAY, ALTHOUGH HE COULD ‘DIE’ HE WOULD GET BACK UP AFTER HIS DEATH.

AFTER HIS DEATH, BLAKE REGENERATES BACK WITHIN AN HOUR, LIKE WAKING UP FROM A SLUMBER.

AN EXCELLENT SHOOTER AND A MARKSMAN.

BLAKE IS CURSED, DURING THE NIGHTS HE’LL TRANSFORM INTO A SKELETON, THE PROCESS IS HORRIBLE WHERE HE’LL LOSE HIS SKIN BY CATCHING ON FIRE.

Weapons/important items:

Pistol

Shotgun.