#Dad!Norm AU

[stupidlytiredstudent]

Chapter 7 of You'll Be in My Heart is now up!

In this chapter, Spider meets the Sully kids. It... doesn't go as well as Norm had hoped.

This chapter is so, so long y'all. It's 14K+ words, I'm really sorry. I got hella carried away.

Hope y'all enjoy!

Next chapter should be up in a few weeks - it's written but needs some editing.

[llumimoon]

speakinf of hero. some old doodles of her featuring the second half of my switched au (where the plots of s1&2 are essentially swapped) simply bc Hero drives me BONKERS in that one. POV ur little brother gets sucked into a cult bc of his mascot obsession but he wont listen to you because he genuinely thinks these people are his (first ever) friends. wdyd.

[cryptvokeeper]

“Modern au chopper is a baby” “modern au chopper is a dog” Doctor Tony Tony Chopper is a grade A character how dare you do this to him

[biillys]

yes i know we all hate karen here but heres the thing. i got a crush on cara from her part in person of interest and i refuse to let the duffer brothers shitty storylines and fucked up attempts at romance take her character away from me. anyway EYE get to pick and choose what the characters i like would actually do and u know what? she would not do that shit. thanku

[pedrospatch]

someone to be thankful for

DBF! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: It’s Thanksgiving—when dinner with your nightmare of a family goes south, you find comfort in the person you least expect it from: your father’s best friend, Joel Miller.

warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. (AU, NO OUTBREAK) non canon, DBF! Joel, AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s, i do not specify her age, but she’s a recent college grad so do with that what you will, not everyone graduates at the same specific age ya know? Joel is in his mid-ish 50’s). Reader’s a teacher, she is visiting her suburban childhood home from a big city. Reader’s parents are religious and practice traditional-ish gender norms (i.e father is head of the household kinda thing) reader’s family celebrates Thanksgiving (sorry) several mentions of food and alcohol, reader’s parents suck, she has two brothers who come with names, a lot of her relatives come with names, watch out for Aunt Ines she’s a bitch. (TW) body/weight shaming (twice) PLEASE BE MINDFUL if this could be triggering. mentions of and implications of childhood abuse (not graphic) reader’s dad gets in her face, implied infidelity (reader’s dad), implied toxic marriage (reader’s parents). soft, caring, protective Joel. Joel’s recently divorced, mention of Sarah, mentions of the ex-wife. SMUT. oral sex (female receiving) p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) reader states she’s on baby blockers (birth control), creampie, DADDY KINK (bc reader clearly has a few daddy issues), LOTS of pet names (darlin’, baby, pretty girl, sweetheart, honey), size kink (ish?), cockwarming. think i got it all?

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. if this isn’t your thing, that is fine but just keep on scrolling.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.

word count: 11.5k

a/n: yeah…idk. this was very delayed because it turned into a whole thing. if anyone actually reads all 11k of this, i will bake you muffins.

You take a deep breath and look in the mirror.

Skirt pressed, not a wrinkle in sight.

Hair brushed, not a single strand out of place.

Makeup done, not a blemish to be seen.

And somehow, someone will still find something.

Something to point out.

Something to comment on.

Something to criticize.

If not your appearance, it’ll be something else.

Because someone always had something to say.

“Should you be eating all of that?”

“Another year gone and still no boyfriend?”

“Don’t you want to get married?”

“When I was in my twenties, I had two children.”

Boundaries didn’t exist on Thanksgiving.

Actually, for your family, boundaries didn’t exist at all—somehow, they are still scratching their heads and wondering why you’d decided to up and leave the minute your high school principal handed over that diploma, your ticket to freedom.

“Sweetie!” Your mother’s shrill voice calls from the kitchen downstairs. “I need a hand! Our guests are going to start arriving soon and there is still plenty left for us to do before they get here!”

You groan outwardly.

There’s still plenty left to do?

How’s that even fucking possible?

You’ve been cooking and baking since sunrise.

“Don’t you think it’s too early?” you’d grumbled at five o’ clock in the morning when your mother had pulled you out of bed, declaring it was time for the big dinner preparations to begin—even though it’d be several hours before your family came over and gathered around the table to break bread. She had pulled the turkey out of the freezer a few days ago, a massive, thirty-pound whole bird that looked big enough to feed a small village. In addition, she had picked up a ham and a brisket. “Mom, why’s there so much food?” Rubbing the sleep from your eyes with the sleeve of your robe, you’d started making your way over to the Nespresso only to realize that the coffee machine was hidden behind paper bags full of groceries. “Are we cooking for all of Texas or something?”

“Very funny,” she had glared at you. “Of course we aren’t.” She started unwrapping the turkey. “We’re simply making sure we have enough food and that we have different options for everyone to enjoy, so knock it off with the wisecracks and get to peeling those carrots for me for the stuffing. There is not a single minute to waste today, you hear me, missy? We’re hosting a dozen people, so everything must be absolutely perfect. I won’t accept anything less than perfection today, do you understand me?”

Thirteen hours later, she’s still driving you insane.

You’re only home visiting until the end of the week and then it’s back to the Midwest. You can survive her for three more days, right?

You hear her calling your name and exhale a small, frustrated sigh. “I’m coming, mom!” you call back. It’s difficult to mask the annoyance in your tone of voice, but somehow you manage it. “One minute!”

Smoothing down your pleated plaid skirt, you take one last look in the mirror to make sure everything is in order—there is a loose thread on the sleeve of your brown, knitted sweater and you carefully snip it off with a pair of scissors before sliding your feet into the comfiest pair of ankle boots you’d packed and head downstairs, nose leading the way as you follow the warm, delicious scent of the made from scratch biscuits and rolls baking in the oven.

You find your mother standing at the center island counter garnishing a charcuterie board with sweet gherkins and sprigs of fresh herbs. She’s donning a festive apron embroidered with fall leaves over her designer dress, and her hair’s still up in rollers. “Finally, there you are,” she huffs out loudly the second she hears you walk into the kitchen. Down the hallway, your father and two younger brothers are shouting at some football game on the flat screen television in the living room—men don’t lift a single finger on this day, at least not in this household. “I need you to start setting the table for me. I have place cards in that bag over there. Make sure your dad’s at the head of the table. Oh and don’t forget to bring out the children’s table for all your little cousins—” She glances up, letting out a small gasp when she sees you. “What in the world are you wearing?”

Frowning, you look down at yourself. “Clothes?”

Her ruby red lips purse together in a tight thin line.

“Honey, that skirt is too short. It’s inappropriate.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at her. “It’s like an inch above the knee, how is that inappropriate? It’s not like it’s a miniskirt, mom.” As she eyes your skirt with disapproval, you decide you’re not in the mood to argue and say, “Okay, fine. I’ll go upstairs and change into something else then—”

“No, no, forget it,” she shakes her head. “We don’t have the time for that.” Your mother whirls around, picking up the bag of place holders—she’d special ordered little turkeys carved out of wood. She also takes a marker and a notepad, shoving everything into your hands. “Here. I wrote down all the names of everyone who’s coming for dinner. The children get place holders too but make sure the little ones are sitting beside someone older to help them. Oh! Did I already mention putting your dad at the head of the—”

Tuning her out, your eyes scan down the guest list and if there’s one thing to be thankful for today it’s the fact that your mother’s given you the power to seat everybody wherever you want. Halfway down the list, you see the names of several relatives that you don’t want anywhere near you at the table. An Aunt Miriam who smells like the inside of a casino; a cousin Jennifer who refuses to acknowledge her forty-eight month old is actually four years old; an uncle Richard who always has one too many beers and winds up spewing antigovernment conspiracy theories, ranting until he’s passed out somewhere, such as on the floor of the guest bathroom.

You get to the bottom of the list and can’t help but raise an eyebrow in surprise. “Joel Miller?”

She nods, returning to her board.

“You remember Mr. Miller, don’t you, sweetie? He and your father went to college together—he’s one of his oldest and dearest friends. Don’t tell me you forgot about him? You’ve met him plenty of ti—”

“Yeah, I remember who Joel is, mom,” you mutter, cutting her off. “Didn’t he and the family move out to Arizona like, four years ago? To Phoenix, right?” You’d been away for college then. Taking a second glance at the list, you notice she had forgotten the names of Joel’s wife and daughter. Surely, it’d just been a mistake on her part, though. “I had no idea they were in town visiting. Dad didn’t mention it to me at all.”

“They’re not.” She lowers her voice, as if someone else is standing in the room listening. “Joel moved back to Austin, he’s been back for a few days now. He and Connie, they um—” Pausing for a moment, she reaches up and clasps the cross hanging from her neck before whispering, “They got divorced.”

Taken aback, your mouth parts slightly. “What?”

“I know. Joel and Connie were the last people that I ever thought would get divorced. Such a shame,” your mother remarks, shaking her head. “I ran into Mrs. Adler at the super market and she was telling me all about it. Thinks they could have saved their marriage if only those two—”

“Would get right with Jesus,” you finish, biting the tiny smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “She says that about everything, mom.”

“Well, she isn’t wrong! The sacrament of marriage is a lifelong bond that shouldn’t be broken. It’s not right.” Dropping her hand away from her necklace, she crosses her arms over chest. “Anyway, Connie stayed in Phoenix. Sarah’s spending Thanksgiving with her. Your father didn’t want Joel spending the holiday alone and invited him over for dinner. That means I need you to be on your very best behavior tonight. I don’t want you embarrassing your father in front of his closest friend. Is that understood?”

You can’t help but scoff a little. “I’m not a child.”

She narrows her eyes at you and scoffs right back, planting her hands on her hips.

“No, you’re a smart aleck. Need I remind you what happened last Thanksgiving with Aunt Ines?”

Of course she didn’t have to remind you about last year’s fiasco with her insufferable bitch of a sister.

“That’s an awfully big piece of pumpkin pie,” she’d remarked loudly, eliciting snickers from everybody sitting at the table. “Don’t forget, dear—a moment on the lips, forever on the hips. And you have quite a few forevers on your hips already, darling.”

You had smiled sweetly at her, your fingers itching to fling your mother’s fine china at her. “I wouldn’t really worry about my pie, Aunt Ines,” you had said as soon as you realized that nobody, not even your parents, would be coming to your defense. “Much less when your husband’s stepping out and eating someone else’s pie when he’s away on all those so called business trips. Worry about that instead.”

That comment hadn’t gone over all too well. Three months later, Aunt Ines and Uncle Louis started to see a marriage counselor. Whoops.

“Well?”

“She deserved that,” you say, shrugging lightly.

“She’s family.”

“She’s a jerk.”

“You crossed a line.”

“She crossed it first.”

Before your mother can respond, the sound of the doorbell ringing echoes throughout the house.

“Jesus, we don’t have time for this!” Your mother’s eyes widen when she tries running a hand through her hair and realizes she still has her rollers in. “Oh no, people are arriving and I’m still not ready!” She makes a beeline for the hallway. “Get the door and greet our guests, I’ll be down in five minutes!”

She disappears upstairs into her bedroom and you hear the doorbell ring again. Your father shouts for someone to go answer it, someone other than him or your brothers because it is the end of the fourth quarter and they just can’t possibly miss that.

You make your way through the foyer and open up the front door expecting it to be one of your family members, but it’s not.

Your throat instantly goes dry at the sight of him.

He’s broader than you remeber, so much broader.

The fabric of his sage green dress shirt is nice and snug on his frame—stretched taut over the planes of his chest and his wide shoulders. He’s holding a box of store bought something or other but you’re much too preoccupied with the way the sleeves of his shirt are hugging his biceps to notice what it is although you assume it’s some kind of dessert. He looks far more delicious than whatever sweet treat could be in that white box he’s got in his hands.

After a minute, you realize you’ve been gawking at him and the heat rushes to your cheeks. “Hello Mr. Miller,” you greet him politely. “It’s very nice to see you again. Please, come on in.”

He smiles, his brown eyes warm and sweet behind his square, black-rimmed glasses. “You remember me,” he states and the syrupy richness of his voice sends a pleasant tingle up your spine. Stepping off to the side, you allow him inside—as he steps past you over the threshold, the tantalizing scent of his cologne almost brings you to your knees. Notes of a citrus accord like tart grapefruit, fresh bergamot mixed with the woodiness of vetiver and musk; it’s intoxicating, something you could easily get drunk off of if you’re not careful. “I’m surprised. S’been a real long time since you last saw me.”

“It hasn’t been all that long,” you reply, closing the door behind you. You speak to him in the steadiest voice you can muster, with nonchalance—as if you aren’t one missed heartbeat away from feeling like a silly little schoolgirl with her first crush. “Has it?”

He thinks about it. “‘Bout four and a half years.”

“That’s really not that long.”

“S’not,” Joel admits with a chuckle. “But with how much I’ve aged in that short amount of time, I just wasn’t sure if you’d recognize me, y’know? I look a lot different than I used to.” He pauses and laughs, shaking his head. “I must look like an old geezer to you now, don’t I?”

Grays lightly pepper his thick dark brown curls, his beard and his mustache. He’s got crows feet when he smiles, he has worry lines and creases between his eyebrows—he does look a lot older, but he’s so goddamn handsome, wrinkles, fine lines, and all.

You toss him a playful eye roll, prompting a grin. “I don’t think you look like an old geezer, Mr. Miller.”

“Well, you’re sure as hell makin’ me feel like an old geezer by callin’ me that, darlin’ girl.” He gives you a little wink and you’re not quite sure if it’s that, or if it was the way he’d used a pet name that knocks all the wind out of your lungs. “Please, just call me Joel.”

You nod and shyly agree to it. “Okay, then. Joel.”

“S’much better.” His grin widens and a prominent, deep dimple appears on the left side of his cheek.

There’s a silence that follows, but it’s not awkward or weird. It’s comfortable—being in his presence is comfortable. His sweet disposition makes you feel so calm, so at ease.

Joel’s always been a nice man of course, although your interactions with him had been limited—kind, quick hello’s in passing on Sundays whenever he’d come over to watch football with your dad, maybe a polite how are you here and there if you bumped into him at gatherings like a backyard barbecue or birthday party. But you’re older now, no longer the child who greeted her father’s best friend because it was bad manners if she didn’t. You don’t want to throw him that kind, quick hello or that polite how are you and then scurry off the way you used to as a little kid. You actually want to talk to Joel Miller.

But you suddenly remember he’s not here for you.

He’s here for your father.

Joel!” Your mother screeches, five-inch high heels clacking loudly as she descends the staircase. She had ditched the apron and hair rollers—and put on one too many layers of her heaviest perfume. With a delighted squeal, she rushes up to Joel and pulls him into a bone crushing hug, almost causing him to drop the box he’s still holding. “Oh, it is so good to see you! It’s been far too long!”

You force back a small, amused snort.

As if she hadn’t been judging the man for a failed marriage just minutes ago in the kitchen.

It’s performative, too over the top to be sincere.

“S’good to see you too.” He steps back and laughs as he adjusts his glasses with one of his hands. He holds out the box to her with the other. “Picked up a pecan pie on the way over here. I would’a tried to make it myself, but the kitchen’s still all packed up in boxes.” He pauses, laughing again. “Then again, I ain’t really much of a baker. Store bought was for the best I reckon,” he admits, sheepishly. When he shrugs his shoulders, his shirt strains a bit over his frame and even your mother can’t help but stare a little.

Lightly clearing her throat, she takes the box from him and reminds him, “Didn’t I tell you that all you had to bring tonight was a nice, healthy appetite?”

Joel lightly pats his stomach. “Brought that too. In fact, I didn’t eat a thing all day long. I’m absolutely starvin’ right now. Could eat a whole horse.”

“Good! Dinner’s going to be served soon. William’s in the living room with the boys, watching football game after football game. Come with me, I’m sure you’re eager to see him.” Your mother spins on her heel and hands you the dessert. “Sweetie, will you be a gem and go put this in the kitchen for me?” It isn’t a request, it’s an order masked as a request—it’s the kindest she’s been to you all day. She takes Joel’s arm and leads him down the hallway, calling out over her shoulder, “And please set the table!”

You do set the table, and when you do, you decide to sit yourself right next to Joel Miller.

Your mother lightly clinks her knife against the rim of her wine glass and clears her throat. “Everyone! It’s time to join hands and say grace before we dig into our meal,” she announces, her voice breaking through the loud, buzzing chatter at the table. She waits until there’s complete silence and then takes her seat, the chair adjacent to your father’s. You’re on his opposite side and Joel’s right beside you. “I think you should do the honor, William. You are the man of the house, after all.”

Nodding, your father begins the prayer.

“Heavenly Father, bless this food we are about—”

You’re not listening. You’re distracted by the jolt of electricity that zips through your entire body when you put your hand in Joel’s. His hand dwarfs yours and it’s rough and calloused, but somehow it’s the most gentle, soothing touch. Heat prickles at your face and neck when you feel him sweep his thumb across the back of your hand—you open your eyes and glance over at him, wondering if that had just been an accident. You’re convinced it was, until he does it again, running his finger over each knuckle one at a time. Slowly, like he’s savoring the touch.

Biting your lip, you give his hand a gentle squeeze.

His head is bowed and his eyes are still closed, but a faint smile tugs lightly at the corner of his mouth and he firmly squeezes your hand back. There’s an unmistakable desire that’s already burning deep in your lower belly, a flame you can’t extinguish even when the angel on your shoulder reminds you that not only is Joel Miller twice your fucking age, he is also your father’s best friend. His best friend.

“…through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

“Amen,” your relatives chime together in unison.

You force out the declaration. “Amen.”

“Amen,” Joel murmurs, opening his eyes. He turns to you and his gaze flits to your hand in his and for a moment, it almost seems like he doesn’t want to let it go. It feels like Joel doesn’t want to let it go—and he doesn’t. He doesn’t let it go until the sound of your father’s loud, booming voice announcing it is time for him to carve the bird startles the two of you apart. Clearing his throat lightly, Joel turns his attention forward and reaches for his cabernet. He gulps down half his glass in one easy swallow.

Dinner’s fairly uneventful.

You eat in complete silence, as does Joel.

Part of you wonders if it’s because you’re sitting in between him and your father, the only person that he’s most comfortable conversing with. Assuming this is the case, you’re just about to ask him if he’d like to trade places when he turns to you and says, “Your dad told me you went to school in Chicago.”

He’s just being friendly, you remind yourself when your heart starts to flutter wildly at the notion that he wants to talk to you. He’s friendly. That’s all. It doesn’t mean anything.

“Yeah. I did.” You pick up your glass of wine, taking a sip hoping it’ll ease the nerves. “I graduated over the summer and took a teaching job out there.”

“You became a teacher?”

“Yeah. I teach kindergarten.” You smile proudly.

“Can you believe that, Joel?” Your father lets out a scoff and shakes his head. “I spent thousands and thousands of dollars to send her to school. All that money and for what? For her to learn how to teach little ankle biters how to color inside the lines?” He rolls his eyes and gestures to your two brothers on the opposite side of the table. “Now my boys, they are smart. Chose good careers to pursue. Brandon starts applying to medical school in the spring. Oh and Matthew? He got early acceptance to Yale. He plans on studying law.” He shifts his attention over to you once more and shrugs. “Not too sure where I went wrong with this one.”

You stare at him in complete and utter disbelief.

“Dad.”

Chortling, he waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, come on, honey. I’m just kidding around. You know that I don’t mean it.” He then reaches out, pinching your cheek roughly. “Don’t be so sensitive,” he tells you before turning his attention back to his plate.

But he does mean it.

His comments hurt, and you hate that they hurt.

Joel nudges your arm with his. “Y’know somethin’, it takes someone real special to become a teacher, ‘specially to kids that age,” he states in a matter of fact tone. “Someone who’s real sweet and patient, someone real smart too. Someone just like you.”

Warmth radiates through your entire body. It’s not just his words, but it’s the sincerity behind them.

You shoot him a small, grateful smile.

The two of you wind up talking to one another.

Joel’s moving his contracting business, bringing it back to Austin from Phoenix to run it with Tommy, his younger brother who you vaguely remembered meeting a time or two in the past. He mentions his daughter here and there, but doesn’t bring Connie up once—perhaps it’s too painful for him? It’s hard to tell. He seems to be in good spirits and truth be told, it doesn’t appear he’s mourning his marriage; but it’s difficult to believe he’s not missing her, the woman he’d spent three decades of his life with. It shouldn’t even matter to you whether he’s missing his ex-wife or not, if there are residual feelings still lingering around. But it does matter and you don’t know why. Or maybe you do know why, but you’re too ashamed to admit it.

“Do you like Chicago?” Joel questions, curiously.

Shrugging, you respond, “Yeah. It’s a cool city.”

“You plan on stayin’ out there permanently?”

“I’m not too sure,” you admit. “It’s too expensive. I don’t want to live with a roommate forever. Unless teachers start getting paid more, I don’t think that I’ll ever be able to afford to live alone in Chicago.”

Joel seems hesitant about his next query. “Do you ever think ‘bout comin’ back to Austin at all?”

Suddenly, you’re not too sure about that either.

You’ve been itching to go back and get as far from Austin, Texas as possible, but now, it means being far from Joel Miller. There’s a deep, sinking feeling inside of your chest at the thought.

Realizing he’s still waiting for a response, you have no choice but to tell him the truth. “I don’t think I’ll ever come back here, to be honest. Not to stay.”

“Oh. I see.” He sounds disappointed. “Are you—do you plan on visitin’ home again for Christmas?”

“I do. I’ll be here for Christmas and New Year’s.”

He’s being friendly. He’s being friendly. He’s—

“It’d be real nice to see you again then.” Flushing a deep shade of red, subtle regret flashes across his features, as if he’d said it without thinking. Picking up his glass, he drains the rest of his wine and you can swear he’s nervous. About what he’d just said, and about whether or not your parents, who are in such close proximity, had overheard him. Because what business did he have in telling their daughter it would be nice to see her again?

They’re both much too preoccupied. Your father is attempting to be slick checking his text messages underneath the table and you can tell by the smirk on his face that it’s one of his secretaries. He’s got a penchant for perky blondes in tight pencil skirts. Your mother is well aware of this. She is also aware he’s on his phone, but she turns a blind eye just as she always does and distracts herself by being the perfect hostess.

Feeling foolishly courageous, you turn back to him and nod, heart pounding against your sternum. “It would. It’d be very nice, actually.”

Relieved, he nods and murmurs quietly, “We’ll talk ‘bout it later, then. That okay, darlin’?”

Not wanting to seem too eager, you nod again and turn away from him, teeth sinking into your lip in a futile attempt to hide the giddiness in your smile—but the soft chuckle Joel elicits under his breath is a clear indication that it’s useless.

He knows how he’s making you feel. He likes it.

Your mother returns from the kitchen carrying two baskets of fresh crescent rolls, one for each end of the table. She sets one of them down right in front of you and you reach out to take one when a voice, one that sounds as awful as nails scraping down a chalkboard, remarks loudly, “Should you be eating so much bread, dear?” Ines, who’s sitting a couple chairs down, next to your grandmother, looks over at you and raises an eyebrow. There’s a smug little smile on her face, almost as if she were daring you to run your mouth like you’d done last year.

For as much as it pains you, you make your choice and decide not to take the bait. You pull your hand out of the basket of rolls and pick up your glass of wine instead, chugging it down like it’s water.

Frowning, Joel picks up the basket and takes a roll that you assume is for himself, but it’s not. Putting it on your plate, he shoots her a frigid glare. “Don’t you listen to her.” He says it loud enough for her to hear him. “You just enjoy yourself, alright?”

Your aunt bats her eyes, innocently. “Well, I’m just saying. If my skirt was that tight on me, I would be thinking twice about what goes into my mouth.”

Hushed laughter sweeps across the entire table.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” You slam your empty glass down so hard onto the table that the entire dining room goes completely silent. The little ones at the children’s table stare with big and wide eyes, mouths full of food hung open because a grown up had just used a naughty word.

Your mother says your name warningly. “Don’t you start,” she hisses, shaking her head. “Be quiet.”

Angrily, you round on her. “Seriously? You’re going to let her say that to me? You don’t care that she’s making comments about my weight?” You almost laugh. Of course doesn’t care, she has never cared and she never will. “I’m your daughter! Would it kill you to defend me for once in your fucking life?”

“Shut your mouth!” Your father stands up, shoving a threatening finger into your face, so close the tip of it almost touches the tip of your nose. He hasn’t put his hands on you since you were nine, but he’s as drunk as he is angry, and you find yourself back in the shoes of the little girl who would curl up into a ball in the corner of her room as she begged and pleaded for him not to hurt her. “You hear me?”

Joel stands and walks around your chair. Placing a hand on your father’s chest, he mutters, “Hey now let’s take a step back from her, alright?” He guides him back down into his chair. “Ain’t gotta be in her face like that, Will.”

“I’m sick and tired of her ruining everything—can’t get through one dinner without her screwing it up! Always has to run that fucking mouth of hers! She still acts like a goddamn fucking child—”

You can’t bear to sit there and hear another insult.

Fighting back the hot tears that are threatening to spill over, you quickly stand up and rush out of the dining room. You make a beeline for the front door and step outside onto the porch. It’s about sixty or so degrees in Austin and the cold nips at your bare legs, but that’s the least of your worries. Without a place to go, you descend the porch steps and find yourself walking towards the swing that’s hanging from the old bur oak tree in the front yard. You had asked your father for a swing when you were three years old—it wasn’t until your brothers asked for a swing a couple years later that he’d hung one up.

You sit down, hands curling around the rope that’s so old and weathered it’s beginning to fray slightly but not so much so that you’re concerned about it snapping. You’re so busy trying to keep it together that you don’t notice the sound of crisp, autumnal leaves crunching under a pair of boots behind you. A hand gingerly touches your shoulder. You let out a startled gasp and glance over to see it’s Joel.

“Hey there, darlin’,” he says, gently.

You stare at him in surprise.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Needed to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” you grit the lie through your teeth.

Joel’s expression softens. “You ain’t gotta pretend with me, sweetheart.”

His concern is genuine. It’s real.

You don’t quite know how to handle it. Accept it.

“It got real ugly in there, ‘specially with your dad.”

Tears prickle at your eyes all over again. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Joel. I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” Baffled, Joel walks around the swing and a minor labored grunt escapes him as he squats in front of you. “There’s a few people who need to be apologizin’ for what happened, but darlin’ you sure as fuckin’ hell ain’t one of them.”

It’s odd. Feels foreign, even.

You’re not used to someone being on your side—it prompts more tears to spring forward and despite your best efforts to fight them off, it’s useless. You manage to whisper his name. It’s a feeble warning, one that’s telling him to go back inside before he’s caught in the torrential downpour of emotions you are mere seconds away from unleashing on him.

But he doesn’t budge. He waits. Joel knows you’re about to break and he’s ready to catch the pieces.

Finally, a tear slips and rolls down your cheek, only to be followed by another and then another. You’re holding onto the swing for dear life now, emotions that you’ve been holding in for your whole life now coming to the surface. The rope digs painfully into the palms of your hands. He reaches out and curls his fingers lightly around your wrists.

“S’okay to let go,” Joel encourages you and you’re certain he’s not just referring to the swing. “Listen to me, darlin’ girl. I ain’t gonna let you fall, alright? I’m right here to catch you. You can let go. I’ve got you, okay?”

You allow Joel to take your hands off the rope and he guides them around his shoulders as you begin to crumble. Leaning forward slightly off the swing, you wrap you arms around him and bury your face into his neck. “Joel,” you choke out his name as he wraps his own arms around your waist, pulling you closer into him.

He feels like stability.

He feels like security.

He feels like safety.

Your entire body shudders as you cry, cry, cry.

“S’alright, sweet girl. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

He repeats his reassurance over and over again.

He wants you to believe it.

And you do believe it.

Joel’s as patient as can be. It’s growing colder and his knees are begging for a change of positon, but couldn’t care less about the discomfort. He rubs a soothing circle into your back and waits until there is nothing left except little hiccups and sniffles.

“Shit,” you mumble when you pull back and notice you’d left behind a wet spot on his shirt along with light traces of mascara. You wipe at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater. “I ruined your shirt.”

“S’okay. Nothin’ the dry cleaners can’t take care of for me.” Joel chuckles and lets go of you. “You feel a little better now, darlin’?”

“I do.” You glance over your shoulder at the house, then exhale a sigh and turn back to him, admitting quietly, “I don’t want to go back in there, though.”

He rises to his feet and pulls out a set of keys from the pocket of his black jeans. “Well, y’dont have to go back in there,” he states. “Is there somewhere I can take you? Friend’s house, maybe?”

“My best friend Megan went to Puerto Vallarta for Thanksgiving. Most of my other friends left Austin like I did,” you explain, sighing again. “Anyone who didn’t leave is spending their time with their family tonight and I don’t want to bother them.”

Joel hums, mulling it over in his mind. “Well, don’t know how comfortable you’ll be with the idea, but my place ain’t all too far from here. Ten minutes or so. Less if there’s no one out on the roads.”

“Joel, that’s so nice of you to offer, but I’ve already ruined your dinner tonight. The last thing I want to do is put you out even more,” you say, sheepishly.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t ruin a fuckin’ thing for me tonight. And you wouldn’t be puttin’ me out at all,” he promises. “S’gettin’ late and truth be told, I just wanna get you somewhere warm.” Holding out his free hand, he adds, “And comfortable.”

“But Joel—”

“I can be real stubborn too, y’know,” he teases you with a playful grin. “We’ll be out here all night long freezin’ our fuckin’ asses off.”

He isn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Okay,” you relent, accepting the offer.

You place your hand in his and he helps you off the swing. He doesn’t let it go as he leads the way to a sleek, black Dodge Ram that’s parked behind your grandfather’s silver Mercedes. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze before dropping it. “Sorry, sweet girl. It’s a bit of a trip up into the seat,” he remarks, chuckling as he opens the passenger side door for you. He gives you a boost into the truck; the scent of new leather is mixed with that of his cologne. It is all man and couldn’t be sexier. “Good up there?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Joel closes the door and hurriedly walks around to the driver’s side of the pickup, climbing up into his seat with ease. “Seatbelt,” he tells you as he sticks the key into the ignition. The first thing he does as soon as the engine roars to life is turn on your seat warmer. He switches on the heater as well, waiting a minute before asking, “You warm enough?”

“I am. Thank you, Joel.”

“‘Course.” He nods and pulls away from the curb.

As Joel’s driving you further and further from your parents’ house, all you feel is sweet relief.

“M’sorry the place is such a mess.”

Joel leads you into his living room and touches his hand to the back of his neck, embarrassed.

Amused, you raise an eyebrow at him and say, “I’d hardly call cardboard boxes stacked neatly over on one side of the room a mess, Joel.” You take a look around his townhouse—most of his furniture’s still wrapped up in plastic, except for the black leather couch and the rustic, acacia wood coffee table. He has a flat screen mounted over the brick fireplace; he’s been sleeping on the couch, or at least, that’s what the pillow and Texas Longhorns fleece throw tells you. You turn to him. “If you want to see a real mess, you should see my apartment in Chicago.”

You watch him as he takes off his glasses and puts them down on the coffee table.

“S’it pretty bad?”

“My roommate’s a kindergarten teacher too. You’d be surprised at how many popsicle sticks two girls in their twenties can end up bringing home. Not to mention all the glitter.”

“If you’re tryin’ to make me feel better, it’s workin’ like a charm.” Joel picks up his blanket and drapes it over the armchair adjacent to the couch. “Go on and make yourself comfortable, darlin’. You thirsty at all? I’ve got water or I can make coffee. Also got a pack of beer in the fridge,” he adds, jokingly.

“What kind of beer?” you ask curiously as you sink down onto the couch.

He seems pleasantly surprised by your interest.

“Lone Star.”

“I’ll have one. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“‘Course it’s not too much trouble. Not at all.”

It’s hard not to stare as he walks away towards the kitchen. Your thighs clench together—his back, his shoulders, those unkempt salt and pepper curls of his that tuft at the nape of his neck right above his collar—this man is the epitome of utter perfection. Your mind wanders and you can’t help imagine the way your legs would look thrown over those broad shoulders. How his large hands would feel on your plush skin as they wrap around your thighs to hold them in place against his chest while he fucks y—

“Here you go, darlin’.”

Joel’s deep voice shatters your train of thought.

He’s standing beside you, holding out the bottle of beer, which he’d uncapped along with his own.

Blood rushes to your cheeks. “Thank you,” you say as you accept the beer from him, trying not to lose the sliver of composure that you’re holding onto—it wavers when your fingers accidentally brush his.

“S’it too cold in here for you?” he asks. “I normally keep the thermostat pretty low.”

“It’s a little cold,” you admit. “But it’s not a prob—”

It’s too late. Joel walks over to the fireplace and he manages to strike a match and light it with just his free hand. After tossing in a couple logs, he makes his way back over to the couch and he takes a seat beside you. “That a bit better, sweetheart?”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugs. “You said it was cold.”

He takes a long, generous swig of the golden lager before setting the bottle down on one of the green ceramic coasters on the coffee table. He sits back; an arm stretches out over the back of the couch in a casual manner and his legs spread open causing your thighs to clench together once more.

“You feelin’ alright?”

“Huh?” You then realize he is referring to what had happened at dinner. “Oh. Um. Yeah, I’m alright.”

Joel peers at you, his concern evident, clear in the depths of his dark brown eyes. “You sure?”

“No. Not really,” you confess, tracing the mouth of your bottle with your index finger. “But I’ll get over it. I don’t have a choice but to get over it.” Another lump starts forming in the back of your throat and you swallow it, quickly chasing it down with a gulp of beer.

“M’guessin’ your family’s got somethin’ to do with why you decided to leave Austin?”

“Bingo,” you deadpan. “I was so sick and tired of it all. How I was talked to, how I was treated. Like I’m such a fucking disappointment.”

He frowns. “You’re not a disappointment, though.”

“My parents think I’m a disappointment. My dad’s never told me he’s proud of me, Joel. Nothing I do, nothing I have ever done is good enough for either of them, but especially not for him.” There is a dull ache that settles in your heart and all you can do is silently will yourself not to breakdown again, not in front of him, at least. You sigh. “Do you know what it’s like, not feeling good enough for someone that is supposed to love you no matter what? Someone who’s supposed to love you unconditionally?”

Joel knows it’s a rhetorical question, he knows it’s not something you’re expecting him to answer.

But he does answer, because he does know.

“I do, actually. I know all too well what it feels like.”

He looks down at his left hand, which is resting on his thigh and you do too. Your eyes flicker over the fading tanline on his finger—where he once wore a wedding band. You don’t even think twice about it and reach over, sweeping your own finger over the patch of pale skin. Without missing a beat, you tell him, “You’re good enough, Joel.”

He can’t help but laugh a little. “She’d disagree.”

“She’s wrong.”

“You don’t know what happened.”

“I don’t have to know what happened.”

“That ain’t how it works, sweetheart.”

Stubbornly, you lift your chin. “I don’t care.”

Joel laughs. “Y’think you know me, darlin’? Y’think you know what kinda man I am? Hm?”

“I do know.” You place your hand on top of his and his jaw clenches. “You’re a good man, Joel Miller. I know that you’re a good man.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong ‘bout that.” There’s a brief pause and he hesitates before confessing, “A good man wouldn’t be sittin’ here just fuckin’ dyin’ to kiss his best friend’s daughter.”

You freeze and grip your bottle so tight, you would not be the slightest bit surprised if it shatters right in your hand. “You—you want to kiss me?”

“Since the moment you opened up that front door and said hello to me.” Joel shakes his head. “S’not right.” He’s riddled with guilt, with shame. He pulls his hand out from under yours. “I ain’t a good man at all. You’re half my fuckin’ age and I shouldn’t—”

You cut him off, softly uttering his name. “Joel?”

“Yeah?” His voice sounds hoarse. Strained.

“Can you—will you kiss me? Please?”

You need more than just his kiss, so much more.

You need him to unravel you in every way possible, but beggars can’t be choosers and if one kiss was all you’ll get tonight, then you’ll fucking take it.

Joel swallows dryly. “That really what you want?”

His eyes flicker down to your lips and then back to meet your sweet, innocent gaze.

“Yes,” you breathe in reply. “Please. Kiss me.”

He leans in, and there’s brief hesitation on his part and he stops mere centimeters from your face, his nose lightly brushing against yours. “We shouldn’t be doin’ this.” His warm breath fans over your lips; they’re parted, eager to meet his own. “I shouldn’t let this happen. I—I should take you back home to your family before I do somethin’ real stupid.”

Your heart sinks. “That really what you want?” you parrot his own question back to him and hold your breath, knowing there’s a chance his answer could be the answer that you don’t want to hear, the one that could end up crushing you.

Joel lifts his hand, cupping the side of your face in his palm. “‘Course it’s not what I want.” His thumb strokes your cheek, his dark eyes taking in each of your features. He’s studying, memorizing them, as if he’ll never get another chance to be this close to you again. With the line he’s about to cross, you’re both about to cross, that just might be the case.

The tension seeps through your skin and into your bones.

You exhale shakily. “Then just kiss me already.”

He moves his hand and gently curls it around your chin, holding you steady as he leans further in and closes the gap of space in between you. He moves slowly and he’s gentle—too gentle. You want to tell him you’re not made of porcelain, but you’re much too preoccupied with how Joel’s mouth feels, how perfectly it molds against yours. He delicately nips your bottom lip with his teeth. It’s a silent request.

He wants more, more, more. Your lips part for him, granting him the access he’s seeking. Joel doesn’t waste a single moment and he explores every inch of your mouth with his tongue, eliciting a whimper from you. Without breaking contact, he takes your beer and somehow he manages to lean over to set it down on the coffee table without dropping it. He then pushes you back into the couch and the next thing you know, you’re lying on your back and he’s settled in between your legs, using one of his arms to keep himself propped up, while the other wraps itself in your hair. Your own hands clutch at fistfuls of his shirt, fingers gripping the fabric so tight, the skin over your knuckles stretches painfully thin.

You whimper out again, the noise prompting a low growl to rumble through his chest—suddenly, he’s not being so gentle. He isn’t being rough. But he is hungry, he’s possessive, and he’s letting it show in the way he’s swelling your lips with his kisses, how his fingers are gripping the hair at the base of your neck as he firmly tilts your head backwards to give himself better access to your mouth.

Your mind is racing, and yet, you can’t think at all.

It’s not until his hips buck into you and you feel his bulge through his jeans against you that you break away from him. “Joel,” you gasp his out name. You grip his shirt even harder, chest heaving as you try to catch a much needed breath of air. You can feel the arousal pooling between your legs. The flames burning in the fireplace are nothing in comparison to the ones that are burning deep in your belly.

“Fuck,” he curses, pulling back. “M’sorry—”

The last thing you want is for him to be sorry.

“No! Please don’t be sorry,” you rasp, gazing up at him. Your eyes are glazed over with a lust you have never felt for another man before. “I want this, you know I want this—don’t you?”

Joel sighs, brushing a soft kiss to your temple. You wish he could take a peek into your mind, see how badly you want to be wrapped up in his arms—you want to get lost in his embrace, feel him all around you, inside you. You want him to write his name on your bare skin with his tongue, whisper his secrets into the spot where you’re aching for him most.

He sighs again and lightly shakes his head.

“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”

“I want this,” you repeat yourself. “I want you.”

Relaxing the death grip you have on his shirt, your hands release the fabric and move to the buttons. Your fingers tremble slightly as you undo each one of them; after an embarrassing fumble or two, you manage to get them all and push Joel’s shirt off of his shoulders. He sucks in a quick, sharp breath as your greedy hands begin roaming, exploring every inch of smooth, tan skin on his upper body.

Your touch erases all the uncertainty he’s feeling.

“Wanna feel you too, baby.” Joel takes the hem of your sweater and gestures for you to sit up slightly so he can pull it over your head. Carelessly tossing it somewhere behind him, he glances down, blood rushing to his cock as he takes in the sight of your supple curves clad in sweet, delicate white lace. “Christ, you look so fuckin’ soft.”

He doesn’t even realize he’s saying it out loud, not until he catches the flirtatious little grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. You sit up slightly once again and reach behind you to unhook the lingerie and take it off, adding it to the ever growing pile of clothes on the hardwood floor. Licking his lips, he meets your gaze for just a moment before dipping his head down, wrapping them around one of your hardened nipples. “Joel,” you mewl his name as he flicks the pebbled flesh with his tongue.

Joel releases it with a lewd, wet pop and he tosses you a smirk before he moves to the other to give it the same attention. He’s a biter, you find out as he takes it between his teeth, nipping over and over.

Your throbbing center clenches around nothing.

“Joel, please. I need you—I fucking need you.”

He tears away from your nipple. “Where, baby?”

You open your mouth to answer him, but your own gasp cuts you off as he starts trailing his lips down the length of your body until he comes to a stop at the waistband of your skirt. One of his hands finds the zipper on the side and he looks up at you, as if asking for permission. Desperate, you nod. Pulling the zipper down, he slides the skirt, along with the pair of lace white panties you’re wearing off of you and discards them, leaving you completely naked.

Your insecurities begin to trickle in, but Joel’s able to halt them right in their tracks.

“You’re too fuckin’ beautiful, sweetheart,” he says, his reassurance calming your nerves instantly. “So beautiful. So beautiful and so fuckin’ perfect.”

You watch as he makes himself comfortable—well as comfortable as he can—in between your legs. He shoots you a sheepish look.

“Knew I should’a put the damn bed together. But I been puttin’ it off and puttin’ it off all week long.”

You giggle breathlessly. “Who needs a bed?”

Chuckling, Joel feathers a kiss on your inner thigh.

Your smile is all but slapped right off of your face.

“Joel.”

Any traces of humor vanish. You’re both reminded of the next wall that’s about to be broken, the next line that’s about to be crossed.

He looks down and groans. “Such a pretty, perfect little pussy,” he remarks, his voice low, husky. “Bet she’s nice and wet for me, ain’t she baby?” He lifts his hand and drags the tip of his finger up your slit slowly, your slick coating his digit. He smirks up at you. “Oh, she’s fuckin’ soakin’, sweet girl. S’this all for me?”

Foreplay wasn’t in the vocabulary of guys your age and while part of you wishes Joel would hurry, you also find yourself enjoying the fact that he’s taking his time, teasing you—making you really want it to the point where you’re willing to fucking plead him for it. Joel Miller’s the only man you’d ever beg for.

He skims your other thigh with his nose and kisses it just like he’d done with the other. “Tell me darlin’ s’this where you need me? Right here?”

Frantically, you nod your head.

“Words, honey. Gotta use your words for me.”

“Yes!” you choke out. “That’s where I need you. So bad. Need you so fucking bad. Please Daddy—”

You freeze and momentarily, he does too. Truth be told, you wouldn’t really blame him if he just stood up, gathered your clothes and tossed them at you, demanding you put them back on and leave.

Joel raises an eyebrow. “Daddy, huh?”

Your face is on fire. “I—it slipped,” you stammer. “I didn’t mean to call you—I’m so sorry, Joel. I’m not even sure where that came from. I’ve never—”

You’re on the verge of panicking, then notice there is a certain glimmer in his eyes and realize he liked it when you’d called him that. You’re taken aback.

He fucking likes being called Daddy.

“Sweetheart, there ain’t nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout. I promise. You can call me that. But on a condition.”

You stare at him, no idea what the condition could possibly be.

“Ain’t allowed to call anyone else that. Ever.” There is a possessiveness in his tone and it nearly makes you come on the spot. “That understood?”

You nod obediently. “Yes.”

“Yes what?” he prompts.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good. That’s a real good girl, honey.”

For a split second, you can’t breathe.

This man will surely be the death of you.

Joel plants one final kiss, this one on your mound.

“Please,” you whimper, the heat in your lower belly growing and fizzling out to the rest of your body at the feeling of his breath over your aching core.

“Please what?” he murmurs into the sensitive skin as his arms curl around your legs. “Tell Daddy—tell Daddy what you need baby, so he can take care of you.”

“Your mouth,” you beg him, desperation mounting with each passing second. Your hips buck upward; his biceps flex as he tightens his arms around your thighs, pinning you down in place. “Your mouth—I need your mouth. Please.”

Joel moves his head to the junction of your thighs, his mouth hovering right over where you needed it the most. He looks up at you with hunger, like he’s a ravenous, starved man who hasn’t had a thing to eat in days. “What a good girl,” he praises, dipping his head even lower. His mouth waters at the sight of your glistening folds. “Bet you taste as delicious as you fuckin’ look, don’t you, pretty girl?”

He flattens his tongue and glides it up your slit, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he gets his first taste. You gasp out when it grazes your swollen, aroused clit and your head falls back onto the couch. “Oh fuck,” you whine, reaching for his hair. You weave your hands through his graying locks and pull his face closer. Another swipe of his tongue causes your back to arch up off the leather and the edges of your vision to blur.

He pulls an arm from around your legs and drags a finger down your drenched entrance, lips securing themselves around your clit. His gaze stays locked on you as he pushes his long, thick digit into you—you feel him smirk as he curls it upwards, pressing the pad of his finger firmly against the soft spongy spot inside you, making you see stars. Joel slips in a second finger and curls it along with the other to double the pleasure. He begins thrusting his digits in and out of your warm cunt, eliciting what had to be the sweetest sounds that he’d ever heard in his entire life from you. He combines it with with slow, firm, and precise stokes of his tongue on your clit.

“Fuck, yes, just like that,” you encourage him, your loud, breathy moans bouncing off the bare, freshly painted walls of his house. “Yes Daddy, fuck—feels so fucking good, please don’t fucking stop—”

It’s not like you have to tell him what to do.

Joel knows exactly what he’s doing, and he knows it too. He listens to every single one of your moans and feels every single buck of your hips. He is sure to pay extra attention to when your hands pull and tug at his curls; he remembers what combinations of licking, sucking, and fucking make you squeeze your plush thighs tighter around his head; reminds himself of which technique brings your body off of the couch, what makes your toes curl. Joel’s quick to learn your body’s cues, each and every last one. He already knows when to give you more, when to give you less—when he needs speed up, when it is time to slow it all down.

You sing his name over and over again, pressure of an orgasm already building between your hips. His tongue swirls around your sensitive little bundle of nerves as his fingers pump in and out of your cunt and you glance down. You almost choke when you catch a tiny glimpse of the muscles in his forearm, the way they flex underneath his skin with each of his movements as he’s fucking you. Your gaze flits to his face. His own eyes are fixed intently on you.

You’re milliseconds away from release.

“Joel, I’m so fucking close. I’m gonna come—”

His arm squeezes your thigh in encouragement.

One last, broad stroke of Joel’s tongue on your clit sends an overwhelming wave of pleasure crashing over you. Strangled cries tear themselves from the back of your throat as your velvet walls flutter and convulse, squeezing his fingers. Joel, who’s face is still half buried in your pussy, takes it upon himself to help you ride through the high. He peppers soft, delicate kisses onto your swollen clit as his fingers continue to slide in and out of you slowly. He waits patiently until your loud cries dissolve into nothing but breathless little whimpers before he crawls up, positioning himself on top of you, a hand on either side of your head. His beard and mustache glisten with a mixture of saliva and slick—and somehow it it ignites another fire and you’re ready for more, so much more.

“Sweet girl,” Joel murmurs. Leaning down, his lips meet yours and you taste yourself on his tongue

You place a hand on his chest, right over his heart, which beats strong and steady against your palm.

You start dragging your hand down his chest, your fingernails raking over his skin. It travels lower and lower, gliding over the softness of his stomach. He tenses when you brush the waistband of his jeans.

Tearing away from you, he grits out, “Baby. No.”

You immediately snatch your hand away from him.

“You changed your mind?” you question, stomach sinking at the thought of it being over already.

You’re just so fucking greedy for this man.

He offers reassurance—and an explanation.

“No, that ain’t it at all. S’just—” Joel pauses briefly and flushes a shade of red. “S’just that, well, I ain’t got condoms on me, darlin’.”

Relieved, you assure him, “It’s okay. I’m clean.”

“Me too. But that ain’t what I’m worried about,” he admits, his face going from red to maroon.

You smile, finding his embarrassment endearing.

“I’m on birth control.”

Joel clenches his hands into fists. His cock strains against his zipper at the thought of it—taking your cunt bare. “Y’sure you want this?” He rasps out. “I need you to be a hundred percent sure ‘bout it.”

“I’m a thousand percent sure, Joel. I fucking need it. More than anything I’ve ever needed in my life.”

That’s all he needed to hear.

Joel stands up, his gaze never leaving your own as he kicks off his black leather boots. You sit up, and it takes every ounce of strength you have in you to remain composed as he unbuckles his belt, unzips his jeans and pushes them down his legs. You bite down on your bottom lip and try not to stare at his bulge like it’s your first time ever seeing a dick, but if he’s as big as he looks in his boxer briefs, maybe this would end up being a lot more than what your body could handle.

He hooks his thumbs underneath the elastic of his boxer briefs and slides them off, allowing his thick, hard cock to spring free from its confinement.

You swallow harshly. He’s fucking massive.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” Joel chuckles at the expression on your face as he kicks aside all of his clothes. His length rests on his lower abdomen and precome smears the skin there. Wrapping one of his hands around it, he gives it a couple strokes, just a hint of relief until you come into play. “Hm?”

Licking your lips, you nod and stand up. You take a couple of wobbling step towards him—Joel’s cock hasn’t been anywhere near you and you’re already fucking walking side to side. “Come here,” you say to him, taking both his hands in your own. You pull him back to the couch and gently guide him down into a sitting position. Swinging your leg over both of his, you straddle his lap. You gingerly place your hands on his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh softly when you feel him brush against your pussy; the contact makes you both moan in unsion. “This okay?” you ask him, breathily. You can’t be sure as to why you’re suddenly feeling a bit shy, like you’re not planning to ride his fucking soul out of him.

“More than okay.” Joel brushes your hair over your shoulder and then drags his hand down the length of your body, committing to his memory every one of your curves. “Gonna be a real good girl and ride my cock, baby?”

You gift him with a cheeky grin. “Yes, Daddy.”

The shyness begins to dissipate and you dive your hand between your bodies, wrapping it around his cock, causing his breath to catch in his throat. You lift yourself slightly off his lap, teasingly gliding the head of his cock down your drenched slit, then up, letting it graze over your clit, which is still senstive to the touch thanks to his lips and tongue.

Joel’s hands find their way around you, running up the curve of your spine. “Wasn’t aware that my girl was such a little fuckin’ tease,” he remarks in a low tone. He slides his hands back down and his large, warm palms cup your ass, fingers kneading flesh.

“Your girl?” you repeat, your heart skipping a beat, stomach fluttering at the idea of being his. “Is that what I am to you, Joel? Your girl?”

“S’that what you want, honey?” Joel whispers, his eyes finding your own, two hopeful gazes meeting in the deepest, most intimate moment that you’ve shared all evening. “Y’wanna be my girl?”

Leaning forward, your reply is preceded by kiss, so soft and so sweet his heart swells inside his chest.

“I do,” you mumble against his lips. “I really do.”

Still gripping your ass, Joel eases you up and lines himself up at your entrance. He bucks his hips and slides the head of his cock past your folds and into your heat. “Breathe, baby,” he whispers, his hands moving to your hips, thumbs grazing your skin. He slowly guides you further down his shaft, grunting as you sink down, taking him inch by inch. “Christ, you’re so goddamn fuckin’ tight—”

The initial stretch is almost too much for you. Your nails sink deeper into his shoulders as he pulls you down further down onto him. “Joel,” you whimper, biting back a loud cry. You’re fully seated, his cock completely sheathed inside you, his head pressing against your cervix. You’re so full of him.

One of his hands abandons your hip and slips over your lower belly.

“This where you’re feelin’ me, pretty girl?” he coos gently. “This where you feel Daddy’s cock? In your belly?”

“Yes,” you sigh out contentedly. “Feels so good.”

You lift yourself off of him, then slide back down in a slow, languid motion.

Joel’s head falls back onto the couch. “Christ.” He mutters the word, his chest heaving. Staring up at the ceiling, he takes a moment to catch his breath and silently wills himself not to explode. Once he’s managed to somewhat compose himself, he looks at you again, pupils blown so wide you can’t find a single trace of brown. “Go on, then,” he rasps. “Go on, sweetheart.”

The living room fills with the sounds of low moans and panting breaths as you move, alternating your maneuvers between rocking and bouncing on him in a frenzied, fast paced rhythm. The friction of his pelvis each time you grind into it winds up the coil between your hips and suddenly you’re desperate, so pathetically desperate for another release.

“Yeah, that’s it baby,” Joel encourages, feeling the beginning of his own climax building quick—much too quick for his liking. “Jus’ like that, honey. What a good girl you are for me, so fuckin’ good for me. Just like I fuckin’ knew you would be.”

“Fuck,” you whine. “You feel so good, Daddy. Feel so fucking good inside me—”

Leaning back, you firmly plant both your hands on his thighs and arch your body, head falling back as you pick up the pace. The burning fire casts a soft, orange glow around you and his jaw falls slack. His eyes drink in every single fucking thing about you, watch you with an adoration that, for the first time in your whole life, makes you feel wanted. Actually wanted.

“Joel,” you whisper his name over and over. You’re both beginning to lose track of where you end and he begins. You can hardly hear the praises that are spilling from his plush lips over the squelching wet sounds of your cunt sliding up and down his cock. There’s no chance to warn him—your mouth parts in a silent scream as you come undone on him.

“M’so fuckin’ close,” Joel grunts. He feels his cock twitch as your pussy grips him like a vice. “Where? Where do you want it, pretty girl?”

“Inside me. Please, I need you to come inside me,” you plead him, the innocent tone of your voice the last thing to push him over the edge he’s teetering on. “Fill me up, Daddy—please, want every drop of you inside me—”

Joel reaches for your arms and yanks you forward, into him. Throwing them around his neck, his own arms wrap around you and roughly slam you down onto him, holding you firmly in place. He bucks his hips upwards, balls tightening, his cock pulsing as he comes. Strings of hissed curse words and deep gutteral groans muffle when he drops his face into your collarbone. Still holding you in place, he spills his load into you, his seed filling you to the brim.

He sags back against the couch and pulls you with him. Wrapping his arms tighter around you, he lets himself stay buried inside of you, the primal in him relishing the heavenly feeling of his come dripping messily out of your pussy and all over his thighs.

“You alright, sweetheart?” he asks after a minute.

“M’perfect,” you mumble against his chest. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re coming down from a high or if it’s because he’s tracing patterns on your shoulder blade with his finger, but you shiver in his arms.

“Let me get the blanket—”

Joel starts to move to get up, but you stop him.

“No, please don’t,” you say, pushing him back. You put all of your weight onto him, as if he can’t move you off to the side if he really wanted to. “I—I want you inside me for a little while longer. Please.”

“But baby, you’re cold—”

You don’t bother explaining to him that you’re not.

“Just hold me. Please.”

And that’s exactly what he does.

Snuggling into him, you close your eyes and Joel’s hand strokes at your hair. Between that, the thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek and the sound of the fireplace crackling behind you, you’re nearly soothed into sleep.

“Joel?”

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“I hate Thanksgiving,” you admit, smiling tiredly to yourself when you feel a laugh rumble in his chest.

“Do you, now?”

You nod. “I do. But I’m really thankful for you.”

Giving you a gentle squeeze, Joel kisses the top of your head and murmurs, “Well, m’thankful for you too, sweet girl.” He pauses momentarily. “I ain’t all too sure how I’m s’pposed to just let you go home. I know I have to but—”

Lifting your head off of his chest, you take the side of his face and cradle it in your palm. You meet his gaze, heart sinking when you see the sadness that has replaced the lust from earlier.

He doesn’t mean home to your parents’ house. He means Chicago.

You graze his beard with your thumb. “I’m coming back in a few weeks,” you remind him, gently. “I’ve only planned to spend a week out here just for the holidays, but I can visit sooner. As soon as the kids go on winter break, I can come back to Austin.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course I would, Joel. I’m not sure how it would work what with my parents and all, though. I don’t want them catching onto us.”

“C’mere.” Joel brushes your lips with his before he makes his promise. “I’ll figure it out, baby. Leave it all to me and I’ll figure it out.”

divider credit to @saradika-graphics 🤎

[doveywovy]

Schrodinger's incest au where tobirama is revealed to have the sharingan mid-battle with the uchiha, so there's no hiding it, and immediately sparks a massive issue along with an uneasy truce- the issue being how did an uchiha end up part of the senju main family?

did his mom deliberately seduce an uchiha to commit bloodline theft, which is what the uchiha elders believe? or, as the senju elders argue, did an uchiha rape his mother? and, this is pretty major, which Uchiha is his fucking dad?

regardless, hashirama and madara both come down on the gentler side of both those arguments, which is that regardless of how it happened tobirama is a senju-uchiha kid and he can't be held responsible for either of his presumed parents actions. So there's a very uneasy peace but it is happening, and Tobirama is spending a lot of time with the Uchiha while they try to figure everything out (under constant surveillance of course). and two things happen

Madara is slowly convinced that Tobirama is actually his half-brother. Some of his behaviors remind him immensely of his now-dead siblings and parts of his appearance remind him of Tajima, and, ultimately, he wants it to be true. He wants another little brother. His memories of his dad are already kind of fucked from Tajima prolonging the war and forcing the end of his friendship and refusing peace treaties when Hashirama took over the Senju, so he's okay besmirching his memory more if it means he gets to have a new little brother out of it. He wants the peace to hold and Tobirama as a connection between him and Hashirama and- this war stole his other siblings from him. It's kind of like the universe giving him something to make up for it?

2. Izuna is convinced tobirama is the product of one of the low rank civilian merchants who barely counts as an uchiha. and tobirama's mom probably did this on purpose in the hopes of bloodline theft, and she just got very lucky that it actually worked out. He still hero-worships his dad and would be deeply devastated if it turned out his dad had cheated, so he absolutely REFUSES to believe it.

and then. it also becomes a matter of necessity to him because he's falling in love with tobirama now that they're spending a bunch of time together outside of battle, outside the concept of enemies. and thrice-removed cousins getting married is the norm to the uchiha but half brothers would be super gross even to them. So he can't be tajima's son too.

so at a certain point it turns into like

madara, kind of crazy from grief: he's totally our brother because sometimes he sneezes exactly like my dead little brother did and if anyone says hes not im going to explode

izuna, very horny: he's NOT our brother he's nothing like ANY of our brothers, and he clearly mostly takes after his senju mom and NOBODY MAKE THIS WEIRD FOR ME

tobirama, meanwhile, is struggling alone and mostly internally with the massive changes to his self-identity. could someone please pause in fighting over who his dad is and help him out?

[luxu1230]

Top Gun Maverick AU in which Jake knows sign language and Ice miraculous lives (let's say his wife dies instead)

Jake "Hangman" Seresin doesn't make it known to others he knows sign language and why should he? It doesn't impact his job as an aviator and it's not like he's around people who need it.

Well that was before he met thee Tom "Iceman" Kazansky.

////

Jake knew how to sign before he was even able to walk. Having a parent and siblings who are deaf will do that. He was born to a Father who was deaf and a Mother who was in the Navy. Growing up meant he had to know sign language with a mother who was hardly ever around even when she was back home on the ranch they had in Texas he needed it so he could communicate with his dad.

The only time he ever properly saw his mother was when she was on her paternity leaves for the twins (Michael and Johnathan) who were born deaf and the youngest (Lily) who could hear. After that they barely ever saw her as she was "Too busy trying to move her career along" (and isn't it funny that in the future the son she ignored managed to get a higher ranking than she would ever get).

So he had to step up. He was 5 years older than the twins and 11 years older than his baby sister and he knew his dad was struggling. So he helped teach his siblings sign language, he made sure that Lily didn't turn into one of those little brats he saw at school who thought they were special just because they fit within the norm of human society. And if he sat down with his dad when he was 18 and told him he was going to enlist so they wouldn't have to worry about money (since his mother never seemed to help out with her salary). His dad broke down crying telling him he hopes his son would return (That's when Jake finally settled in his heart, that woman was not his mother). So when he joined he made sure that every leave was spent with his family and he could never regret it even if his leave synced up with her's.

/////

Fast forward a few years and it's after the suicide mission that his sign language comes into use.

What's even funnier is that this story goes down in the history of how one Jake Seresin gets promoted at the same time as getting two Naval legends to finally realise their feelings for each other.

////

It was after the mission and everything was left in the past between Jake and Bradley. (Yes he can call his boyfriend by his real name NATASHA. No calling him by his Call Sign is not foreplay BOB). So he's surprised but not surprised when the squad gets a permanent home at Top Gun as a specialist unit with the help of Admiral Kazansky and phtff Admiral Mitchell (Thats a funny story within itself but that's a story of another time).

So to celebrate they all get smashed at the hard deck and if he's sat cuddled up to Bradley in a booth as Ice and Mav talk with Ice using a text to chat on his phone he can't help but notice every time Ice signs 'i love you' to a complete and utter oblivious and confused Mav. He can't help but sigh as he feels Bradley trying not to bust out laughing as Jake had done the same thing until Bradley came up one day and shoved flowers into his chest and signed it back his face red.

So he grabs Bradley's hand and stands up at the end of the table. Looks Mav right in the eye and goes "He's signing he loves you dumbass" and drags off a wheezing Bradley behind him leaving Mav stuttering and Ice blushing. He barely remembers the rest of that night.

So he's presently surprised that after a week he gets a call saying he's getting promoted to Captain due to his great service to the country. He can't help but sign in exaggeration as Bradley bursts out laughing when they find out Mav was the one who promoted him.

And if he proceeds to go up the ladder with his husband by his side and realise that when he reached Admiral he reached a rank his mother could never reach by ignoring his family. Who knew hiding his sign language would get him this far.

(if anyone would write this I would honestly love to read it)

[tiredofthehumanlife]

Wanna play mermaids?

Barbie dolls: jegulus x reader (James, regulus, you)

Words: 3.4k ish

Summary: you and regulus work as mermaids at the renaissance fair and shockingly a lot of dads hit on you guys but what if one of them was hot?????? OH GOD PLEASE RELASE ME I WANT PEACE PLEASE GOD PLEASE

Warnings: your mermaid name is meryn, I personally think mermaid is a gn term but I understand why you wouldn't view it that way I was a mermaid kid so all I did was read books on them so to me personally I just feel like they wouldnt care about gender norms or gendered language BUT I UNDERSTAND so you and regulus are referred to as mermaids but there is no other gendered language, morden au, marylily is real, regulus is trans with stars around his top surgery scars and he's a tad insecure about the scars but it's cool, that's all.

You and your boyfriend, Regulus, loved working at fairs. You both had spent a very long time honing your costumes and characters. So when the biggest fair in your area hired you both, you were giddy. After you hung up, you and Regulus both screamed and jumped around the kitchen, holding onto each other. After waiting and picking at the fine details, the fair had finally opened again.

Every summer for about three months the fair on the outskirts of town was open. People dressed up, fairies, witches, queens, knights, regular old Renaissance peasants, came from all over to join in the festivities. Behind the large, fake, castle gates was a massive amount of care and love. People worked to fill their booths with handmade products. People spoke with old accents, calling out to thou to payeth for a large pretzel with your Chime credit card. You loved it. All the costumes, all the activities, all the love people put in, seeing the joy in children's eyes as they met real life mermaids. Even if it was just you and your  dumbass boyfriend in costume, it was real to them. You were even more excited to go to the one in town, you had seen how their mermaid tank was set up.

For quests they had to find the building with the painted mermaids all over it. It was open concept mostly, as most things at the fair were, no ac, all wood, and still beautiful. The building was mainly there for the gift shop, if the people wanted to see the real mermaids they'd have to follow the small stone path. Through a small arched gate, vines climbing up it, was a small winding garden path. Stunning flowers and vines growing around them as they made their way down the line. Eventually they'd turn the corner and see it. The large tank of water, usually with a mermaid inside. Around the tank were large fake rocks, making it look less like a tank and more like a tiny cave. Inbeaded in the rocks were gold dabloons and seashells. False seaweed twisting around the rocks. It was convincing enough for a child. Then there was another small path that led the guests out of the garden and back to the gift shop.

For the mermaids however, the path was different. You entered in through the gift shop, an employee showing you behind the beaded curtain in the back. Through there you found two doors, both painted teal that was now peeling and dim. Through the door on the left was a bathroom aka changing room. Through the door on the right was a small pool, the half of the tank that wasn't visible to the public. On two of the walls there was a space to walk, sidewalk wide. There were regular old swimming pool steps off in the corner, a lovely space to sit and take a break in your opinion. Then across from the door was an entryway. It started at the bottom of the tank and raised all the way up to just above the water. You entered the tank for the children to see you by getting into the pool and then swimming through the entry. It was most definitely one of the nicer set ups. There was one time where you showed up and found a troft waiting for you.

You and Regulus had gotten dressed, slid into your tails, and flipped yourselves into the pool all within an hour. You still had about thirty minutes to waste before you were needed outside. You had noticed that Regulus was quieter than usual but you just assumed he was tired. It was early in the morning and he was more of a night owl. Though now as you were both sitting on the steps, passing time in silence, you felt worried. You nudged his shoulder with yours. You asked him if he was alright and he seemed to sink. He shrugged. There a moment of silence before be started whispering to you.

"I'm just worried someone might say something." You raised an eyebrow at him.

"About?" Regulus rolled his eyes and gestured at his chest. He had scars, but so did millions of people. Regulus once vented to Sirius about his insecurities over his scars and Sirius offered the solution of tattoos. Of course he would. Regulus took it though. He went and got stars littered around them. Regulus was definitely more confident in them when you were alone or with friends but he always seemed to get a little antsy before working. You shrugged.

"Has anyone said anything before?" You already knew the answer. You just needed to remind him of it. Regulus pinched his lips together, shaking his head. "Then why would anyone say something now? What makes this job any different?" Regulus sighed and dropped his head on your shoulder.

"I have no real merit behind my anxieties." You nodded. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, glad he finally came to a proper conclusion. You slipped off the step, dropping to your shoulders in  the water. Regulus soon joined you. You swam through the opening. The outside part of the tank was much nicer than the inside. It was still early in the morning, the fair opening accnoucment started at 7:40 but no one really entered the fair until 8 ish. If you looked to the side you could see the sunrise. Regulus' head popped up out of the water next to you. You smiled at him. There were two small false rocks with flat tops in the two corners at the front.

You loved how Regulus looked in this lighting. He glanced over at you when he noticed you staring at him. Regulus rolled his eyes and made his way over to the corner across from you. He plopped himself down on the rock and rested his arm over the edge of the tank.

His tail was purple. You were there when he got his inspiration. You and Regulus were shopping for Luna's third birthday present when a little girl ran up to him holding up her Barbie doll. She kept pointing at them both. You saw the similarities instantly. It was a little mermaid doll with short black hair and a purple and blue tail. After her mother came running around the corner apologizing a million times and throwing the girl over her shoulder. Regulus turned to you. You shrugged and looked back to the dinosaurs. Luna was going through a dinosaur phase. She only wanted dinosaurs. Dinosaur chicken nuggets, dinosaur socks, dinosaur cereal, if it wasn't dinosaurs she wasn't having it. Regulus sniffed. You looked over at him. He was wiping at his eyes. You wanted to laugh a little. He was crying over a Barbie. All things considered though you've done the same so you hugged him and cooed.

Now he really was a spitting image of the doll. Your tail was orange. For no other reason than you thought it looked cool. You kept flapping your tail over Regulus'. He looked away from the garden to glare at you. A man in full peasant garb came around the corner, scrolling on his phone. He turned it off and shoved it into his leather pouch attached to his belt. He smiled at you two.

"Hey you guys, I'm John. I'm basically going to be right by you guys at all times if you need anything, if anyone gets weird. And also so I can direct people towards the exit but majority I'm here to support you." You both nodded at John. You shook his hand, introducing yourself and Regulus with both your names and mermaid names. Regulus gave John a short wave before looking back out at the garden.

"Yeah we're already having a line build up out there, your first meeting time is at 8:30, that's when the gate opens. Then the second meeting time starts at 9:30. And then so on and so forth, but after 11:30 that's it until 1:30 so we all have lunch time then." John explain, pulling his phone out the scroll down the schedule. You didn't have the heart to tell him you already knew the schedule.

After Regulus had celebrated with you for the first 5 minutes of finding your new job he was pulling out his laptop and reaserching everything. He took notes. Color coordinated notes. Regulus then helped you memorize everything. From the schedule to the blueprints to the faux accents people put on. He even went over your characters' lore with you again.

However you appreciated John's kindness to explain the schedule to you anyways. So you thanked him. You decided if he didn't run off to have lunch with his other peasant friends you'd find a way to get your lunch outside and eat with John. John notified you when the other workers opened the gate.

Quickly after that the first family was rounding the corner, jumping over the vines. Regulus fixed his posture, sitting up straight and smiling wide at the little boy. He was clutching onto a cloth mermaid doll like it was his lifeline. He squealed when you both waved at him. he was quickly advancing on you two, leaving his loser family behind. He was more interested in Regulus than he was you. The little boy told Regulus his favorite color was actually blue. He also explained siren lore to Regulus. Regulus smiled and nodded along. The boy asked Regulus what his name was. Regulus pressed his finger to his lips before pointing to you.

"His name is Llyrrick." You said, smiling at the boy. He pouted looking back to Regulus. Regulus had quickly realized after your first few jobs, talking to people for that long, masking for that long really, was extremely tiring. So you both adapted. Suddenly Llyrrick just didn't talk and Meryn, you, was talking double time.

"Do you not talk?" The little boy asked, tilting his head to the side at Regulus. Regulus pinched his lips together, shaking his head no. The boy's smile grew, letting out an excited squeal. He quickly ran back to his family, who was standing awkwardly next to the tank. He latched onto what looked to be his older sister. She looked to be only a few years older than him. He dragged her over to Regulus.

"This is my sister, she doesn't talk either. So sometimes I talk for her at restaurants and stuff, like you." He said smiling at you. Regulus smiled brightly, waving at them both. The girl looked more than giddy to meet a mermaid who was like her, her smiling biting back at her cheeks. Regulus held up his finger before flopping himself off his rock seat. He quickly swam back through the opening. Both the kids looked back to you, with sad looks, scared he was running away from them.

"Llyrrick is getting you two presents. Hey do you two where we merfolk keep our money?" They both shook their heads at you. "At the riverbank." You giggled at your own joke, even though you didn't really find it funny. Both the kids chuckled at your joke. You kept running off puns to keep them entertained. Regulus was back in few more seconds. He pulled himself back into his rock seat. Regulus reached into his now soaking cloth bag. It was small but it held a lot of false mermaid coins. Regulus reached into the bag and pulled out two, dropping one in each of the children's hands. You both waved them off as John pointed them to their way out of the garden.

You and Regulus gave each kid a coin before they left. Some of them spent more time talking to you, some talking to Regulus more, and some just stared at you both in silence. As the hours passed you started looking more and more to your lunch. You loved watching the childrens' excitement at seeing real life mermaids, but it was still tiring. Lunch was quickly approaching, you were already at the end of your 11:30 line.

"Sorry, he doesn't know how to flirt. He just kinda stares with his mouth open." She whispered to you, trying not to disturb Harry The Number One Mermaid Fan and Llyrrick's conversation. You shrugged.

The last family was rounding the corner. A small boy and three adults following after him. The boy was in jorts, light up lighting McQueen sneakers, a red shirt with a cartoon mermaid plastered on the front, and glasses too big for his face. He looked to be 7 or so. He was holding onto what was most definitely his father's hand. They looked like carbon copies, even in matching glasses.

Behind them both were two beautiful women.  One was in all green, with long red hair and the other was in as many bright colors you could imagine, her curly hair pulled into two buns. If you didn't already think it was the hottest set of parents you most certainly did now.

The man had a mustache that could truly only be described as a pornstache. Even worse, he made it hot. His muscles were large. You felt sympathy for his tshirt sleeves. You slowly turned your head to stare at Regulus. He gave you the exact 'you seeing this?' look you were giving him. You smiled and turned back to them as they got closer.

The little boy was dragging his father to the edge of your tank, his two mums following behind them. You thought they were the hottest throuple you ever did see. If you were the mirror mirror on the wall and they asked you who was the finest of them all you'd consider death. It'd be easier than picking. The boy smiled at you two as his father froze at the edge of the tank. You said hello to the boy as Regulus waved. He introduced himself as Harry, The Number One Mermaid Fan. You smiled at him. He talked to you both. Regulus gave him encouraging looks. Regulus crossed his arms over the edge of the tank, dropping his chin on his forearms.

You noticed the father was staring at you both. It unfortuently wasn't as uncommon as you wished it was.  A lot of people would stare, most of them making you uncomfortable. You glanced over at him. His jaw was slack and his shoulders slumped, making him look like a child salivating at a candy store window. You stared back, raising an eyebrow at him. The red headed woman came up from behind him, giving you a smile.

"I'm not flirting with your husband. I'm actually just sitting in a tank. Us merfolk don't flirt we give each other seaweed bouquets for courtship." You stated blankly. It wasnt the first time a partner of someone has chewed you out for looking at their loved one. Apperantly an orange fish tail was quite flirtatious.

"Oh gross no. I'm married to her, not him. Anyways just give us a second." She pulled the man away, over toward the other woman. They both gave you a small smile before gripping onto the man's shoulders. You continued to talk to Harry The Number One Mermaid Fan and ignored them entirely. As Harry started to ask Regulus more questions about sea life, all of which Regulus answered, the father came back up to you clutching his phone tightly. He had shinked into himself, looking as small as a buff as shit dude could.

"Excuse me, sorry I don't mean to be irritating, but do you think it's possible I could get both your numbers?" He was muttering so quietly you barely even heard him. You looked over to Regulus. He was already staring at you. Regulus gave you a light nod before answering Harry's question on the economy system with his hands, John stepped over to him, pressing his hand to the father's chest, giving him a light shove.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave." John whispered. You reached out and tugged on the edge of John's shirt.

"Thank you, John. It's alright." John looked back at you to check a second time that you were speaking and not clone. You nodded. John looked back to the father, looking him up and down with the stink eye before moving away.

As John shut the exit gate you looked at Regulus. He groaned and slumped lowing into the water. You nodded, understanding completely. Regulus stared at you, you could see his admiration simmering under his gaze. You gave him a knowing look as he continued to slip lower and lower under the surface of the water. You rolled your eyes as his head disappeared under the water before popping up next to you again. Regulus pushed him up next to you on your rock seat, dropping his head on your shoulder and interlocking your elbows.

"Well I can't give you my cell phone number but i can give you my Shell-phone number" Your smile grew as you said your own pun. The man started laughing at your joke as he opened his contacts. You warmed, most people ignored your puns. Who would've thought a dad would enjoy your dad jokes?

You quietly whispered your number and real name to him. He was giddily smiling the whole time, giggling as he entered in the numbers. When you were done you looked over to Regulus, silently asking if he was sure you can gave his number away. Regulus sent you a wink and pulled his hand out from under the water, a shell in his palm.

On occasion, you genuinely wondered if he was a mermaid because you never packed shells but he always had pulled some out from nowhere. You turned back to the man listing off Regulus' number and his real name. The man was bouncing on his heels. He looked to be fighting off the urge to do a jig in celebration.

Just as you were finishing handing off Regulus' number, Regulus was dropping two coins into Harry's hands. The man thanked you a million times before lifting the boy off his feet with ease and throwing him over his shoulder. The boy squealed and laughed as the four of them left. Both of the women sent you two bright smiles.

"He was hot." Regulus whispered against the skin of your wet shoulder.

"Fuck, I know. Jeez Louise." Regulus nodded understanding your exasperation. He gently kissed your shoulder, sitting up. He looked back at John.

"Thanks, John." John stared at Regulus with wide eyes. You looked over your shoulder to smile at John.

"Right well, I'm going to go to pop over to the food court. I'm going to wander around a bit but I'll be back before 1:00, okay?" John said. You both gave him a nod. He left through the garden.

You and Regulus ate lunch in the inside tank. After that you both continued to meet more children and families. As the Fair closed for the day, you were slightly ashamed to say you glad. You and Regulus were out of your tails, not bothering to wipe off the painted scales on your faces. All the guests had left, you both leaned on each other as you left through the faux castle walls. Staying in a pool all day and being exhausted made your legs slightly wobbly.

"Mm bath, dinner, bed?" Regulus muttered, his voice slightly hoarse from not using it all day.

"Would you still love me if I said, A bath is too much energy?" You really weren't sure if you could last another second in water. Regulus hummed.

"Okay, Dinner, stinky bed time?" You nodded against his arm. He dropped a kiss to your forehead as he lead you through the parking lot.

"Glad we got that sorted, now the question is what are we having for dinner?" You groaned at Regulus asking you so many questions.

"Hey maybe that guy from earlier will be up for coming over. I'm entirely positive he won't mind being dinner, he was jumping up and down getting your number." You offered. Thinking about real answers was too hard.

"Really? I was thinking noodles." Regulus muttered, his tone flat. You lifted your head off his shoulder and smiled at him, lightly pecking his cheek.

“Noodles work.” Regulus nodded, pulling you off towards your car.

[detective-twinkachu]

Au that Max and Norm totes hide who Spider's bio dad is. Like Max and Norm gets this mysterious abandoned baby's DNA test and it turns out he is the son of Colonel Quaritch and a pilot named Paz Socorro. Of course Norm is in complete disbelief, no way a murderer like Quaritch could produce an offspring like this cute kid???

Norm: Run the test again.

Max: I ran them three times!

Norm: No! How can that asshole make this!

(Que an adorable baby Spider cooing at Norm)

Norm knows as soon as Neytiri or any Navi, forget the humans that would hold a grudge against Quaritch, find out about Spider's parentage, this kids life is going to be hell. So both men decide to... not tell anyone who Spider's dad is. The kid looks nothing like Quaritch and takes mostly after his mother, with the big brown eyes and curly hair, except where the mother is brunette, the son is blonde. It takes Norm three hours later to find a semblance of a birth certificate in the rooms the baby was found, in a shoe box under the bed. The paper brings a smile to Norm's face.

Javier Socorro

Born:2154 Pandora

Mother: Pasquella Marie Socorro

Father: N/A

Convenient. Most likely the jackass didn't want to be linked to the only woman who broke the rules of having a child on Pandora or Socorro knew Quaritch's enemies would come after the baby.

Norm and Max decide to erase all evidence of Quaritch from Javi's, Norm's name for the baby, life. The humans that were involved with the conception or birth of Javi are no longer on Pandora, so there is nobody to reveal his parentage. So it's easy for Norm to hit delete on everything about Spider.

Max: We tell absolutely no one of Javi's bio dad, got it? Take it to the grave.

Norm:Bet.

Mo'at, spying from the spirit tree: Bet

Eywa, herself: Bet.

Next with Jake and everyone else. It's not that Max and Norm do not tell Jake of the existence of a human baby on Pandora but just 'forget'.

It's not until Jake comes with a pregnant Neytiri on an unannounced visit, Max and Norm doing work with a white bassinet between them. Both him and Norm freeze when the two Na'vi spot the bassinet and immediately Neytiri is looking at it in alarm. Jake is the one who draws closer, stepping in front of Neytiri. This prompts Norm to hurriedly give an explanation of the presence of a human baby on Pandora, who his parents are (Paz Socorro and an aviation tech Norm knows is dead), and why they can't send the baby to earth. The kid won't survive the journey. Most likely, the kid will die in cryo-sleep. Jake asks more questions about the baby while Neytiri is staring at the baby for so long it puts Max on edge. Finally, the two Na'vi leave and the two scientists believe they are home free.

Until the next day, Jake and Neytiri are back with Jake wanting to hold Javi! Jokes that it's good practice for when the baby comes, even though Baby Spider can fit in the palm of Jake's hand, Neytiri herself just comments how small the child is. The two stay for four hours and both scientists are sweating buckets.

It gets better (or worst depending who you ask) when Neytiri becomes smitten with baby Spider!

Then suddenly Mo'at appears at Hell's Gate like.

Which almost gives Norm another aneurysm until Mo'at's like "chill bro, now give it here."

So in conclusion before I go on a long plot, Spider is given a better lease on life thanks to Norm and Max hiding Quaritch's identity from everyone. Yes, Spider would get slack for being a human but at least it isn't a 'sins of the father' type of hatred but just the mistrust of humans. Max and Norm at first are gonna raise Spider but then Jake and Neytiri fall in love with Spider and want to adopt him.

Jake and Neytiri:

Max and Norm:

[the-kr8tor]

idk if you've done this already but

TTN! Reader got pregnant (fr this time!!) perhaps?

I think that would be silly, mostly because of Aunt Janet's reaction to Hobie teasing her in that last TTN oneshot

Yayy!! TTN dad! Hobie!! Thank you for requesting! 🫶

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, TTN! Hobie, TTN! Reader. Billie and Ramona AU, Dad! Hobie au. Fluff

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Hobie's hand hasn't left your thigh the entire car ride. The new sedan smells like pine and citrus when he practically drenched it in lysol before you got in it, telling you that the last owner probably smoked inside and the baby growing in you would smell it too. You believe him of course, even contributing your own perfume to the mix.

He's been an absolute angel the entire pregnancy, always careful and gentle with you. Of course you miss the days when he would play fight with you but you love him like this too, smooth around the edges but still have his bite that you fell for when you were just kids hanging out.

You stretch your lower back in your seat, swiveling from side to side, the simple movement gets Hobie's attention.

“You alright, Gromit?”

“I'm growing your little spawn, Hobie” you rub your stomach to alleviate the strain, thumb dancing along your maternity dress. You're only four months along the pregnancy but the baby bump is far larger than it's supposed to be. He jokes that you're carrying an army of spiders. “I feel like I'm carrying a full grown baby already.” you groan out.

He kneads your thigh, one hand on the steering wheel, sparing you a quick once over. “By the time Hobie Junior. Comes out he'll be ready for Uni.”

You grimace, craning your neck towards him. “We are not naming our baby Hobie Junior.” He opens his mouth but you beat him to it. “Or Punk Jr. Seriously, why are all your suggestions have Junior in them? What if it's a girl?”

“I thought you wanted to break gender norms? Our daughter could be named Junior.” His teasing smile makes you pout, you blame the hormones. Truthfully, he's been thinking about legit names for both since you two found out.

Huffing, you see him pull over to Janet's shop. “‘Junior Brown?’ No.”

Hobie smiles wider, taking his seatbelt off, he then proceeds to reach over to you, careful of your stomach. “Junior fits with anyone, so Junior it is.” he jokes.

He clicks off the seatbelt before he sneaks a quick kiss to your lips, turning your frown upside down immediately. Going back to his seat, his grin makes your stomach somersault and it's definitely not the baby doing flips.

“I hate you so much, Hobie.” You say with a grin and a chuckle.

“If you did, we wouldn't have Gromit Junior.” he pokes your protruding belly button, leaning on in the middle console of the car, his eyes softened. “D’you want me to call the doctor to book an appointment?” Always attuned to you and your worry, he asks oh so affectionately.

You swear you could cry on the spot, and again you blame the hormones. “Please,” you lean towards him, lips pursed. “This is why we have Gromit junior.”

Hobie chuckles, meeting you halfway. “You blamin’ me—?”

A knock from your side of the window startles you both. His senses would have warned him but it's impossible when your face is so close to him, add the fact that you were ready to smooch the living daylights out of him.

“Shit— oh it's Janet!” Rolling down your window, you give her a big smile. “Hi aunty! Long time no see.”

“Stop making kissy faces with each other and get out here!” She gestures for you to come out, you and Hobie give each other a look. Her cane clacks against the pavement as she gives space for you.

“Love, wait I'll help you down.” Hobie grabs your arm as you open the door.

“Am I that big already?” You look down at your stomach and he winces. “I'm sure I can get down on my own, Hobs.”

He lets go with a nervous chuckle. With your raging hormones pulling you from one emotion to another in a blink of an eye, he's been extra careful to not make you upset.

You reach down on your tiptoes, already finding it hard to see your feet. Janet looks on with wide eyes and mouth agape, she flicks her eyes frantically between your stomach and Hobie who's coming around the car to greet her.

“Hi aunty—.”

“You little shitter!” She exclaims, some pedestrians even turn their heads at the loud booming voice, probably reminding them of their own grandma. “You got her pregnant?! She just got here!”

Hobie has faced many villains but they've never made him this terrified before.

“She's been home for almost two years, Janet—” the older woman grabs Hobie by his shoulder, causing him to slouch down to her height. You watch on with your mouth tightly closed, stifling a laugh. “Ow!”

“Get inside the bloody store!”

You follow behind them, the store's bells ding as you close the door behind you. Hobie asks for your help with a simple look.

“Aunty, it's not all his fault.”

She stops in the middle of the store, letting Hobie go. He returns to your side, hiding behind you. “Oh trust me, I know, it takes two to tango. You look like you're six months in and you haven't thought to tell me?”

Hobie tugs your sleeve, having wordless conversation. You both know exactly why she's upset.

“I'm sorry aunty,” you rub at your bump, voice soft and face apologetic. “It was…unexpected and everything got so hectic that we only remembered today.” You elbow Hobie.

“Yes, we're sorry, aunty. We could name the baby after you if you want?”

You glare at him.

Janet sighs, leaning on her cane, she shakes her head. “You crazy kids. No need to name her after me, I've already got a grandkid named Janet and she's a little troublemaker. Congratulations, truly. I'm really happy for the both of you.”

Hobie half hugs you, hand placed casually on your stomach. Leaning on him, you both smile at Janet, relieved that she didn't hand your asses to you.

“I'm only four months in, not six, aunty.” You leave Hobie's side to hug her. She squeezes back, leaning away to look at your bump.

“Four? Are you sure because you might be carrying more than one?” She asks, eyes narrowed at your stomach. “Or are you just saying that so that I won't get upset that you didn't tell me for six whole months.”

Hobie pipes up, standing further away from Janet. “Scout's honour, aunty. Baby's only four months.”

She looks at you and you nod. “Mm-hmm, we're sure.”

“Huh?” She scratches her head. “You're having more than one, love. It's either that or you're carrying a big one, if that's it then I'm really sorry.” She lets go of a laugh and you look at Hobie like he kicked your dog.

You mouth a ‘big?!’ that makes Hobie stifle a laugh with a shrug.

“Do you guys have bets? I think it's a girl.”

“Bet you five pounds?” Hobie joins in, you place your hands on your hips, rolling your eyes.

[stupidlytiredstudent]

Chapter 6 of You'll Be in My Heart is now up!

It's a really short chapter this time, mostly a plot bunny I wrote out that I liked a lot. Spider is 5, and sick as a dog. Norm takes care of him. The classic sick fic!

Next chapter should be up in the next 2 or so months, hopefully. It'll be really long, so that's cool!

Hope y'all enjoy!

[llumimoon]

WIP WEDNESDAYYY !!!!! uhmmmm take some wingfic angst JWBECWHAHAA sorry Norm <33

[evenmorefatallyobsessed]

Aloe AU Concept

Julius Miles Arc was not a dull man, however he was known to make the occassional mistake. Deciding to follow the tradtions of his family in teaching their male heirs the way of the Birds & Bee... Was perhaps the biggest of said blunders.

In his defense it was how his father taught him, so yes, he would admit, after a spledid camping trip he may have brought his son to the redlight district of Mistral's lower ring.

He was not however about to risk his son's safety, no Jaune was to become a man, so he would become one in the greatest brothel he could find.

Lien was for once not a concern as he was willing to shell out as much as needed to make sure Jaune left the occassion filled with a new life experience and just as much pride.

The place was spledid, and the women exceptional, why, if he didn't have a wife was was almost constantly breaking his pelvis he might've been tempted.

And his boy had his pick of the lot of them, oh how the other men waiting to buy their own time one of said women. Having to wait till his son had made his choice, Julius having put down extra so Jaune could quite literally have his pick.

He would admit to being suprised... Afterall he did not think his son would pick the Receptionist... He didn't mean to sound rude but well... She did look rather worn-out and... 'Experienced' even compared to most courtesans.

His reason was that the woman Aloe, was 'very pretty' he'd admit her eyes were a darwing shade of burgendy, or would've been where they not so off puttingly dull and and her hair messy and unkempt as it was was a unique green...

Though the real reason was obvious as Jaune's eyes flickered between the Faunus woman's damaged but still pretty insteactoid wings and massive, swelling breast. One appealed to his innocent nature, the other to his developing masculine desires.

The Receptionist, surprisingly enough actually agreed, despite no longer working as a escort.

And it had been set, Jaune had left with her confused, flustered and embaressed, and come back a little more brave and proud of himself, a bit of confidence clear in his eyes and a pep in his step...

Is what should have occured...

No, no, no... Instead they could quite literally hear his son becoming a man. Aloe as it turned out had chosen a room without soundproofing, seemingly she was well known for her pranks and lack of shame.

He stood there, with the women and other customers... Listening, it should've been only a half hour at most... It had been several. And that wasn't even the worst of it.

It was not how the other men had gone from snickering at his son for his inexpereince to looking ashamed of themselves as they heard the woman two hours later actually moaning, yelling and even begging his son's name.

It hadn't been the way the women had approached him hoping to see if the dad was as good as his genius soin apparently. No... It was when Jaune spoke.

When his little, innocent, naive son told the woman she would be his wife. When he told her to have his children...

He knew then, he fucked up, because a Arc went back on their word, even in the heat of passion.

-0-0-0-

Jaune woke up as the bullhead finally landed, his head in his wives lap, Aloe, one a Mistralian prostitute, turned receptionist then turned mother of his son and daughter. Jaune got up stretching, ignoring the people looking at him, or to be more precise his wife. A mother Aloe might be, but reserved she was not. Wearing a eye catching and frankly slutty outfit.

On some level he knew it was bad, but hey, if she followed the norm they would've never met right... His dad would've never trained him, after he asked him to so he could protect his family. Jaune might've tried sneaking into Beacon frankly.

But now he didn't even need to do that, heck a part of him didn't even want to be a Huntsman, he had children to raise, and provide for. A wife to love, he'd be content living the life of a farmer, and Aloe could accept that, but... She'd made it clear that he shouldn't just settle for a average life.

So he was here, trying to live out his childhood dream, at the very least she was right if he could fight off Grimm better the family would be safer, and Anself could always use another huntsman...

Girls cooed and awe'd at his children, Teal and Jasmine were adorble after all, his son having a pair of antenna and just the prettiest blue eyes in the whole wide world. His toddler Faunus son was too much for the girls to endure the cuteness of.

His daughter though was off limits, little jasmine, four months old, and looking every bit like a little precious fairy plucked straight outta the fairytales. Some might have worried he would've dropped her while he sleep, but that was never gonna happen. Getting outta the bullhead he manged to catch a girl getting... Blown up.

He really couldn't help himself, handing Aloe Jasmine before he went off to check the occurance, finding a girl in the crater. And like that he made a new friend.

Later he met a icy bitch who made a comment on his wife being a Filthy Faunus Harlot! Oh Hell No was some freaking Schnee gonna talk shit about his family!

-0-0-0-

Aloe would've never considered something like this in the cards for her. Motherhood, happily married, a life with litte to no worries... But that's exactly was exactly the life she was living.

She owed Jaune, no her husband everything, she was under no delusions, wasn't obssessed with him... Well, unwarrentldly obssessed, no, Jaune Arc had earned he devotion.

She knew what she was, who she was, and where she came from, she, was a whore, born in the lowest cast in Mistral at the ditrest corners of it's city. A Faunus with a impossible to hide trait filled in a den of raciest. Her mom having died, maybe from a overdose, possibly by a scored customer or maybe even at the hand of her own pimp.

She didn't really remember, she was too little to really recall.

But it left her to raise herself, and in that sorta enviorment you could only really do one thing. So she did, she sold herself, and she sold herself well. moving up and outta the lowest ring to just a low one, choosing a brothel she could trust. Making a life for herself that didn't make her crave death like so many of the others in her line of work.

No, she simply didn't care about anything, about herself... About her waste of a life, she was as content as street trash could be. At least their had been moments of bliss, thankfully her pipe was her only drug, she wasn't into harder stuff like others had been.

She was... content to just die like that, not live, what she did was difently not living.

Not until that little boy on the cusp of manhood came into her life and picked her. It still brought a smile to her face, his cute flustered expression.

His innocents and affection.

He didn't see her for what she was, didn't see the worn-out, used-up animal whore her other customers had saw before she moved unto introducing the girls instead of serving herself up. He saw a pretty lady, to naive to see her for what she was, and that... that was enough for her to wanna play with him.

Only they didn't just play, Jaune had said some interesting things to her, not anything she hadn't heard before mind you. When you could change your body size to the point where you looked like a actual fairy guys tended to say a lot. Espeically when you could could become a vice tighter then any other. But Jaune was to honest to mean anything but exactly what he was saying.

And when his father explained their families motto... Well, she always did have a eye for good oppertunities, just a lack of chances to take any. And now she was happy, happier then she had any right to be. With a home, a future and family, she could be content with that.

With teasing, and being bred by her husband while the other men in the village looked at her with desire while she brutally and slying ruined their lives for it. But, Jaune deserved more, he'd stepped up at every corner and then some. Learned to farm, to fight from his dad and even learning how to lead the village for the eventual day he had to step up.

He even learned about Faunus rights, and the struggles her people went though... He actually knew more about her people and culture then she did now. The idea of his son and daughter living in a world where they could be discrimnated against seeming to infuriate him.

She, she loved him, not at first, but it had happened fast... So much so she wanted to give back. And this was how, by supporting the dream he never talked about, that she knew he'd be more then willing to throw away for his family.

And well that wasn't all... She was getting up their in years, she was closer to his moms age then his after all... And Mistral had plenty of different life styles then simple monogomy. If some of those sorry excuses for men could have a mistress or three why shouldn't Jaune. Ture, he would never cheat on her, but she had plans around that, Huntsman fought side by side, grew close as family.

If she worked her magic maybe she could make certain... Arrangements, and beside she already had candidate or two. The blonde with breast as big as her own who went all dowey eyed over her babies, her kid sister who he was fast friends with. The 'Secretly' Faunus who looked at her and Jaune warmly as he lovingly cared for his Faunus kid. Not to even mention the spartan and literal bunnygirl

Heck maybe she was reading to much into it but even the Schnee seemed to be a bit to intense with Jaune when they argued. Maybe she could get her dear husband a personal, private and exclusive brothel of his own. Filled with girls who'd just love to be his personal whores.

[flowersintheimpala69]

Jack thinking of sam + cas as his dads but he thinks of sam + dean as married cuz like he watches movies and sees romantic relationships in public so he’s like “oh!! Sam and Dean are like that they must be in love” and he dosent really know that incest isn’t socially okay cuz like no one told him (don’t mean this in a “oh jacks just a baby he dosent know anything” way, cuz i hate when he’s infanlized BUT i do think it’s realistic to think there’s gap in his knowledge of culture + societal norms, esp since he’s also only around sam dean and cas all the time and i love them but they are NOT poster boys for Normal People Who Act Normal TM okay rant over)

So Jack one day realizes sam and Dean don’t wear wedding rings but like they’re married! Married people wear rings! So he asks sam if he wears his wedding ring on a necklace around his neck cuz Jack knows sam has sorta large hands so maybe not a lot of rings fit him?

And Sam short circuits and is like “??wut”

And Jack is like “u and dean don’t wear wedding rings. I thought married ppl do that”

And sam with his little repressed incest crush is like “no!! Whaaaaatttt.. that’s so crazy! Dean and I are not married!! Why would u think that!!” Cuz he dosent want to give any reason for anyone to know he likes dean

And Jack is like “oh.”

Later he talks to cas abt it and he’s like “I think sam is mad at me:(“ and cas is like “he’s not he just gets upset when someone thinks him and dean are together” and Jack is like “cuz they’re brothers?” and cas sighs and is like “no they are so in love with eachother and both react that way because they do not want the other to know”

And Jack is like “??wut” and cas has the most done face and is like “they have been like this since I have known them. They refuse to communicate. I am tired.”

Maybe cue Jack + cas shenanigans where they try to subtly push Sam and Dean together and send them on dates by being like “let’s go out!” and then backing out last minute and being like “oh something came up we can’t go:( but you guys should go anyways! Have fun at this fancy dinner place^_^ and there’s a nice walk along the river you guys could take after” or back out of movie night and have them watch a romcom together

And they’re like out and Jack is like “yk Sam i think Dean is cold,, im worried he’ll get sick:(“ and ofc Dean is not cold cuz he wears a shit ton of layers but Sam is like “oh no! I don’t want him to be cold :(“ and gives him his jacket

cas takes the extra blankets and hides them and sam is like “where are the blankets?? There’s only one:(“ and cas is like “oh? Must be in the wash” and sam is like “oh that sucks dean and i like having blankets when we watch tv guess we gotta cancel movie night” and cas is like “noooo yall should just share a blanket^_^” and sam is like “…okay”

And Jack and cas peak around the corner and see sam and Dean cuddling under the same blanket and they’re watching How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days and Jack and cas are like “this is the night!!” But then suddenly sam gets up like he’s been burned halfway through the movie and squeaks out that he has to go to the bathroom and Dean is like “oh :(“

and dean couldn’t see it from his angle and cas rlly hopes Jack didn’t notice, but Cas could clearly see the hard-on sam was sporting in his sweats as he speed walked to the bathroom. And if the sounds he heard from the bathroom and 10 mins sam spent in there plus the shower he took is anything to go by sam def was jacking it.

Cas never drinks but he’s def really close to becoming an alcoholic. He wants his friends to be happy! They’d be happy if they’re together! Why can’t they communicate!

and Sam and Dean don’t ever get together in their lifetime but post canon cas and Jack visit sam and Dean in their heaven (au where cas isn’t taken by the empty cuz FUCK that) and they walk into their house and sam and Dean are fucking on the couch.

And Jack like covers his eyes and cas lets out a genuine laugh and sam and Dean let out a yelp and try to cover themselves with a throw blanket.

later after sam and Dean have made themselves decent they’re having an awkward dinner (to sam and Dean, Jack and cas r just happy they worked it out even tho they didn’t enjoy walking in on them)

And Sam’s voice is thick when he asks if cas and Jack hate them for this and cas and Jack r like “what?? Ofc not!!”

And dean is like “it’s okay if u are we get it”

And cas and Jack share a look and are like “we’ve known you guys were in love for a while”

And Sam and Dean r like “Whaaattt??”

And Jack is like “u guys aren’t subtle.”

And Cas is like “I am happy you two could finally commemorate your bond :)”

and then they have desert and are all happy and right before Jack is getting ready to leave he notices the matching gold rings sam and Dean are wearing.

[factorydefaultlu]

Here me out.

Modern College AU for Fallout 2024

Cooper is a retired actor turned professor (I imagine he teaches acting and script writing classes) he swore to himself up and down that he would never get involved with one of his students but Lucy is slowly whittling that rule of his down, one day at a time.

Lucy is there to get a degree in education and minoring in political science. She took Cooper's class because her and her dad are huge fans and totally not because she wants to just be able to sit and stare at a pretty face for an hour a few times a week

Max is doing general studies. He's not quite sure what he wants to do, he's bounced from diesel mechanics and engineering to librarian sciences and botany. He accidentally enters the wrong class one day (Cooper's class) and sees Lucy and then decides he has to switch classes immediately. He wants to get to know Lucy better and they hit it off right away. He isn't super into the course subject, but it's decently easy and he gets to hang out with Lucy so he doesn't mind it.

Dane is in the same boat as Max. They don't know what they want to do, but they feel less alone because of Max. They notice that Max changed one of his classes and follows him one day, now Dane is attending the class twice a week along with Max and Lucy. They share a dorm with Max.

Norm would honestly drop out if it wasn't for the pressure his father is putting on him. He's in his first year of college and is already over it. He decided on computer science and although he's good at it, he's also bored with it. Thinks it's funny how Lucy is taking Cooper Howard's class and can see her teacher crush a mile away.

[incorrect-fnaf-quotes]

Alright, AU questions

(thesere the goofy ones that I like to ask everyone)

What's each main characters favorite drink? (Coffee, tea, soda, etc)

Hottest take on a characters personality? (Do you portray anyone really outside of fandom norms, how?)

What's one weird quirk your favorite character has got that you gave them?

OKAY, so, I wasn’t very sure if I should just talk about one of the AU’s for the questions—so I figured I’d just try to do all of them if I could—though, for the main characters, like you said.

For the Reluctant Follower Jeremy & Animatronic Vanny AU, I’d consider the MC’s to be:

Vanny, Jeremy, Glamrock Freddy, & Gregory.

For the reunion & memory AU with Glam Fred & Bon, I’d consider the MC’s to be... them. The others are also decently involved, but it’s an AU focusing around them both.

The Swap AU? Cassie, Glitchtrap, & Vanny.

The Dr. Scraptrap AU? Scraptrap, Elizabeth, Plushtrap, and Spring Bonnie.

Anyways, onto the questions, starting from the favorite drink one, and then I’ll just go from there. I don’t wanna waste too much time.

Dr. Scraptrap: This man constantly drinks coffee, it’s his favorite.

Elizabeth: Apple Juice.

Plushtrap: Absolutely just... really likes drinking any sort of energy drink. Also Apple Juice.

Spring Bonnie: Tea.

Vanny (both Swap & Animatronic): Chocolate Milk.

Glitchtrap: Tea.

Cassie: Orange Juice.

Glamrock Freddy (both): Water.

Glamrock Bonnie: He doesn’t have much of a favorite, but does enjoy soda and tea.

Gregory: Soda.

Jeremy: Coffee.

As for the question about the character’s personalities... I’m not too certain. Like, with the Swap Au, there’s obviously changes here and there—mainly with Glitchtrap and Vanny.

I’ve never really focused on the ‘fandom norms’ or whatever the fandom would typically depict someone, but, one of the main ones would be... Gregory?

I’m not sure if I would count it as a norm, but I do see a lot of things where they just portray him as... pretty bad. Like, there’s more to it, but, y’know.

He’s just a kid, though. He’s pretty good.

Another would probably have to be (Dr) Scraptrap? Like, for a bunch of things, but whenever it comes to Afton, I see a lot of things between the kids.

Like, some are like, ‘Oh, he was a horrible dad’, and others are like, ‘Oh, he was a good dad’, etc. I’m not really sure if these are norms... I’m saying whatever is coming to mind, it’s late.

In the Dr. Scraptrap AU, he is at least a pretty good parent to Plushtrap and Elizabeth, and cares about them a lot. Good bunny father. 👍

Although... being honest? I think nearly all of the characters would have a bit of different personalities/be out of fandom norms, because I wouldn’t be able to write everyone perfectly.

But I’m sure trying my best. 👍 Though I’m still adding my own bits here and there.

As for the third/last question, with the ‘weird quirk(s)’, I’m... not very sure, honestly.

Because, sure, I’ve given/added certain things to some characters (Plushtrap, Spring Bonnie, etc), when planning them and everything else out. And maybe some of the things are interesting.

But I’m just not sure what would count as a ‘weird’ one, whatever you’re really looking for with the answer.

That’s about it, I think. Sorry if any of this wasn’t very good—I wanted to answer this right away, but it’s honestly pretty late. I just tried to say things as best I could.

Anyway, thank you for the questions :) Feel free to send in more, if you want. This was fun.