Reborn as a Succubus: Time To Live My Best Life!

{Melistair}

Javir's house looked exactly the same as when they'd left, which somehow made everything feel even more surreal. Like they were walking backward in time, retreating to safety while his eldest daughter stayed behind to fight their battles.

[... At least this time we're not running from a fire,] he thought, watching Margaret try to keep Hazel from sprinting off somewhere.

The door opened before they could knock, and there was Javir, radiant as always. The smile that graced her face as she saw them reached those emerald eyes and she swept them all into a hug that smelled like old books.

"Sorry to intrude again. For what it's worth, I did suggest to Melisa that maybe it's time for us to buy a house of our own, but she thought that would just-" Margaret started, but Javir cut her off with a kiss on her lips that made Melistair's cock twitch despite everything else going on. It kind of caught him off-guard.

[... Goodness gracious.]

"Please," Javir smiled, finally breaking the kiss. "You've already lived here for nine years. This is as much your house as it is mine at this point." Her emerald eyes sparkled with that familiar warmth. "Welcome home."

Naturally, Hazel immediately ran inside, probably headed straight for the kitchen where Javir always kept those cookies. All three of them rolled their eyes watching that.

[Well, at least some things never change,] he thought.

But, even now, as he took this moment in, his mind drifted to that talk with Melisa a few days back.

The way she'd looked at him, so much like her mother when she was about to win an argument.

"Dad," she'd said, "I love you, but if you try to help fight these assholes, I'm going to have to protect you instead of focusing on turning them into paste. I'll be fiiiine."

Melistair sighed.

He'd tried to argue, of course. He might not be a mage, might not have any fancy powers or special abilities, but he was still her father. He was still supposed to protect her.

But she'd just smiled in a way that was taken straight out of Margaret's playbook and said:

"The best way you can help is by keeping Mom and Hazel safe. Please?"

And what could he say to that? She wasn't wrong. In a fight between mages, he'd just be an unnecessary casualty.

[Yeah, I-]

"!?" He flinched.

Warm lips pressed against his cheek, startling him out of his thoughts. Javir had gotten so close and he hadn't even noticed.

"Come on," she said softly. "Let's get you all settled in. Again."

He followed her inside, trying not to think about what his daughter might be planning. Trying not to think about how useless he felt. Trying not to think about-

The sound of breaking glass and Hazel's guilty "Oops!" echoed from the kitchen.

[Shit,] he thought, hearing Margaret's exasperated sigh and Javir's warm laugh.

"I-I'll get that," Margaret said.

The couch in Javir's living room had seen better days, probably around the same time dragons still roamed freely. Still, it welcomed Melistair's butt like an old friend as he watched Margaret help clean up what used to be one of Javir's favorite glasses.

[Hopefully it wasn't particularly expensive,] he thought. [Though watching Margaret bend over to clean up isn't exactly a hardship.]

"Careful with the small pieces," Javir called out, settling into the chair across from him. Her eyes, sharp as ever, seemed to look right through him. "So. Want to tell me what's actually bothering you?"

[Besides my daughter fighting terrorists while I hide like a coward?]

"It's nothing," he said, because that's what fathers were supposed to say. Keep the worry inside, protect the family, pretend everything was fine.

Javir's raised eyebrow could have won awards for skepticism.

"Right," she drawled. "And I suppose you're just sitting there looking like someone pissed in your breakfast because that's your new aesthetic?"

A snort of laughter escaped before he could stop it. Trust Javir to cut right through his brooding with all the subtlety of a horny darian in heat.

"It's just..." he gestured vaguely, watching Margaret's ass sway as she worked. "Melisa basically told me I was useless."

"She didn't say that," Margaret called over her shoulder.

"No, but she meant it." He sighed. "And she's right."

[In this city, where every other person can shoot flames out of their asses, what good is someone who doesn't know magic?]

"So do something about it." It was like a second voice in his mind spoke those words.

But... That voice was right.

This mattered. If Melistair was going to do his job right as Melisa's dad, as Hazel's dad, as Margaret's husband, he needed to be able to fight for them. Both metaphorically and literally.

So, the words came out before he'd really thought them through, but once they were there, hanging in the air like one of Melisa's experimental spells gone wrong, they felt right.

"I want to learn magic."

Margaret stopped cleaning. Javir's other eyebrow joined the first in its journey toward her hairline.

"You..." Margaret turned fully. "What?"

"I want to learn magic," he repeated, more firmly this time. "I feel like I need to, at this point."

A slow smile spread across Javir's face, the kind that usually preceded either something wonderful or something terrifying. With her, it was often hard to tell the difference.

"Well," she practically purred, "you just so happen to have the former court sorceress at your disposal." Her eyes glittered with amusement. "Lucky you."

[Why do I suddenly feel like I've just volunteered for something incredibly stupid?]

"Really?" He looked between them. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," Javir confirmed, standing. "Though I should warn you – my teaching methods can be rather... hands-on."

Margaret blushed hearing that.

[Well,] he thought, swallowing. [At least if I blow myself up, it'll be more interesting than sitting around feeling useless.]

---

{Margaret}

If Melistair was going to start learning magic, Margaret figured she might as well get back to her own lessons. After all, what kind of wife would she be if she let her husband outstrip her in magical ability?

[Though watching him struggle with basic spells while I show off might be fun,] she thought, her hips swaying as she walked down the familiar hallway to Jaylin's room.

Of course, the "tutoring" Margaret had received from Jaylin ended up turning into Margaret finding increasingly creative ways to make the young girl blush. She couldn't help it, honestly. After she noticed that Jaylin felt a certain type of way about her, watching Jaylin squirm quickly became one of her favorite hobbies.

She raised her hand to knock, a dozen new ways to tease her favorite teacher already dancing through her mind, when she noticed the door was slightly ajar.

[Well, that's practically an invitation,] she thought, pushing it open.

"Jay..." She trailed off.

The sight that greeted her made her pause. Jaylin was slumped over her desk, fast asleep on what looked like a particularly dusty tome. Her usual perfect posture was nowhere to be seen, replaced by the kind of awkward sprawl that promised a stiff neck later.

"..." Margaret smiled warmly.

[Cute,] Margaret thought, taking in the way Jaylin's mouth hung slightly open, a tiny bit of drool threatening to ruin whatever ancient knowledge she'd been studying.

Moving quietly – a skill she'd perfected raising two daughters – Margaret grabbed a blanket from Jaylin's bed and draped it over her shoulders.

[I suppose the teasing can wait,] she decided, backing out of the room. [Though I'm definitely going to mention the drool later.]