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writerunnamed · 3 months ago

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note: I am both shocked, and grateful at the response this story has gotten. I didn't tag anyone, and I expected maybe a few people to be into it but you proved me so wrong. So thankful that you all like it, please don't be shy. Slide into the dms, spam me with asks, lets go nuts together. xo (thanks so much for going through and betaing this chapter @frannyzooey xo) Joel(stepdad), significant age gap, female reader. 18+ legal, reader is 20 (warnings: pov sex, shower sex, really inappropriate dirty talk, slight Dom-Joel vibes, daddy kink, heavy guilt) 4k word count masterlist

The guilt doesn’t creep in, it consumes like a five alarm fire. It’s weight holding you pressed to your bed as the shadows in your room stretch out with the fading of the golden hour light. The darkness helps, but not nearly enough to make any kind of a difference.

He’d left after, closing your bedroom door behind him with your slick still smeared all over his dick and the realization of what you’ve done keeps hitting you. It keeps dropping stones in your gut, further weighing you down, naked, in the incriminating wet patch on your sheets. You hear your mother open the front door an indeterminable amount of time after. Your face burns, your heart races, she has to know. Surely she’d felt it, like a phantom limb while she was working, a ghost knife in the shape of her daughter, stabbing her in the back.

You wait, barely breathing, sheets clutched in the talons of your fingersfor her to storm in, to rip you out of the house by your skin but it doesn’t happen. You hear him laugh, hear them chat as though nothing has happened. Your heart rate steadily lowers, and it becomes apparent that her wrath isn’t pending.

The ax hanging over your head is being held by you, and no one else.

You stay there, uncomfortable, ashamed, cold, until it’s late enough that the house falls silent. Then, and only then do you get up and change the sheets. You pad out to the bathroom and shower, silently telling yourself that it was a temporary lapse in judgment. It was a psychotic episode. It was a hallucination, there’s no way you’d actually done that. It must have been imagined, but then you clean between your legs and feel the soreness and curse yourself all over again.

You do your best to wash him off of you, wash the whole encounter, the whole mistake, and vow to yourself to never give it another thought. You console yourself with the thought that he must feel awful too, surely. He was probably lying there next to your mother, terrified with guilt. The devil on your shoulder, that cruel thing inside laughed at your naivety, practically yelling at you to smarten up. He doesn’t feel guilty, he’s probably snoring, his balls empty, his body pleasantly tired without a care in the world.

Sleep eventually finds you, giving you the blissful respite of the dreamless dark.

—

A week goes by and you can almost convince yourself it had been a dream. Your mother is her normal, distant, distracted self. Joel works and blessedly you have managed to avoid any unsupervised interactions. Your brain however, has splintered and each shard has its role. The first keeps you sane, it does it best to make sure you focus on anything but the event you will not name. Another convinces you that things have almost fixed themselves since… well, that. It fools you into believing that it was somehow a cure. Things feel better in the house. The tension is gone, Joel seems disinterested, your mother is preoccupied. A tentative truce has somehow been enforced.

There is another shard, an unwelcome and unruly and now untethered part of you that screams for a repeat performance. It begs and pleads for you to corner Joel and take what he gave again and again. The other aspects keep it restrained for most of the day. Work, responsibilities, the general needs and demands of the day take up most of your bandwidth but at night, at night it reigns supreme and without opposition.

In the comforting dark of your now tainted space, that illicit part of you floods your mind's eye with the vision of Joel there, in your bed. It recalls the feeling of his mouth on your nipples with crystalline clarity, makes you feel the way he molded your body to take him, the way you came around his cock with that word in your mouth.

You were grateful for the toy, but he’d been so frustratingly right about it not doing much. After him, the toy was a tease. It was barely a taste of what he’d been able to do, but it didn’t stop you from using it. It was the safest option, until you could find someone appropriate.

Or get the fuck out of that house and forget about the whole thing.

More days pass, and that tension filters through your defences, It glides in and fills every angle of the house, every corner with a need borne of your interlude.

Joel’s eyes linger again, he tracks your movements whether your mother is around or not. He smiles, he tests, pushes your limits with a passing hand on your lower back. His fingers linger when he hands you a plate or a mug, he sits close enough for his thighs to press to yours on the couch, the soft light of the tv and the lamp casting shadows across you both.

Your mother doesn’t pay attention, or doesn’t see it. You are not a threat to her relationship, why would you be? In any normal, healthy family this would never be something to be worried about, not in a million years. In a proper family, a stepfather would not fuck his stepdaughter.

A stepdaughter would not fantasize about it either.

The guilt builds the more time passes, but it wars with another, less wholesome feeling. Desire. Unadulterated lust. There is a part of you, a growing, strengthening part that craves him, that bombards you with different ways to have him inside you again, to beg him to fuck you harder, to give it to you longer, to beg for him to come inside you and mark you as his own and this scares you half to death.

Soon though, it eclipses that guilt and takes you to the breaking point.

It comes to a head one day, when you come home to both of them smiling and happy.

“Hey babygirl.”

He smiles when you set your bag down and you ignore the way your body comes to life with that endearment.

“Go on up and get dressed, I’m takin’ my girls out for dinner.”

Your mother beams, sliding her arms around his waist with a dreamy smile. “I got a promotion, Joel is going to treat us.” She’s in a very good mood.

“Oh, I’m alright, bit tired but you two go ahead. Have a drink for me.” You smile your sincerest smile, urging them to leave you alone. The toy floats in your brain, calling to you with the promise of the momentary relief it brings, however paltry compared to him.

“Nonsense. Go on, we’re all goin’.” He raises an eyebrow, and you sigh, already resigned. “Go on, don’t make me ask you again, we gotta celebrate.” There is a playful, yet iron-strong tone that you know in your heart you cannot disobey.

“We can go on our own if she wants to stay.” Your mom combs his hair back with her fingers, fixing it and he lets her, smiling down at her as you make your way up the stairs.

“We’re all goin’-” It’s the last thing you hear him say before you close your door and go about getting dressed.

It’s a pretty fancy steakhouse, a place you’d only ever been to once on a date. He’d put on a nice shirt, and your mom wore one of her nicer dresses. You couldn’t exactly wear leggings, so you’d dug out a dress of your own and trudged along despite your wish to be anywhere but.

He slid into the booth beside you. You said nothing.

Your mother talks about her job, about how happy she is they’re taking notice of all her hard work and you’re genuinely proud of her. Growing up you don’t remember her holding down a job for more than a few months, Joel had changed that too. He’d pushed her to buckle down and take her employment seriously and it had paid off. It was just another one of those contradictory things about him, something you should have loved him for, a genuine, paternal thing but it didn’t mesh with your new dynamic.

Paternal. What a joke.

The food is good, and you enjoy it in relative silence while your mother prattles on about her work, her manager, her team while Joel smiles and looks her in the eye. It’s almost pleasant, almost normal, the three of you, mother, father and daughter in a dark little booth celebrating a win.

It’s almost nice, until you feel his hand on your knee under the table.

You jump, the shock of it making you drop your fork.

“You alright babygirl?” He smiles, genuine concern on his face as heat floods your body and you nod, frantically. With a tight smile you go to pick it up but he stops you, and ducks under the table to fish for it. Your mom laughs it off and you smile, blood pounding when you feel his hand again while he’s reaching for the fork. It moves your skirt up, exposing more of your thigh.

“I’ll ask the waiter for a new one.” He sits up and winks, adjusting himself so he’s a little closer. His hand lands back on your thigh and his thumb strokes at the skin, little circles that make you lightheaded.

“I think I need to use the little girls room.” Your mother puts her napkin on the table and for a moment you think this is your chance. If she asks if you need to go, you’ll jump at the chance – but his hand tightens, just enough to let you know to stay put.

She doesn’t ask, and when she rounds the corner he turns to you, eyes bright with the same lust you’ve been stomping down inside.

“Happy you’re here babygirl, been missin’ you.” His hand slides up until it’s pressed against your core. Your breath comes in pants, and you’re rendered silent.

“Been dreamin’ about havin’ you again. Been fightin’ the urge to sneak in and spread you out on that little bed, eat that pretty little cunt til you’re cryin for me to fuck you.”

He presses close, tilting your face up to press his lips against yours soft enough to tickle. “You been thinkin’ about me?” He presses another little kiss, and you pull away, terrified to see strangers staring at you disgusted.

No one is looking though, and he knows.

“Joel, stop, not here.” You’re frantic, heart racing, pussy leaking.

“Who am I?” he raises his eyebrows, expecting.

You close your eyes, letting out a sigh. “She’ll be back any minute.”

“Say it babygirl, say what I know you’re wantin’ to say. Who am I?” His hand lands on your thigh again.

It’s on the tip of your tongue and you hate that he’s right, you do want to say it. You want to scream it.

“...Daddy.” It’s barely a whisper, but it feels so good.

“Little louder honey.” He slides up, pressing his fingers against your clit.

“Daddy, please–” You give in, and it comes out almost a moan. There’s that sense again, of falling into a trap you hadn’t seen him set but it’s secondary to the self-satisfied smile on his face, to the way your body primes itself for whatever he deems fit. Your thighs clamp around his hand, the restaurant falls away and all that matters is his warm breath ghosting across your face, his strength, the press of his fingers.

“That’s better.” He smiles, and moves away and it’s with an unspeakable relief that you see your mother round the corner again, eyes on her feet while you adjust and move further away. The guilt gnaws at you, but the other thing rages, paints her as an interruption for a moment before you reign it in. She smiles when she slides into her side of the booth.

“How ‘bout we get dessert? I could do with a little somethin’ sweet.” He smiles, and she agrees.

They chat idly on the drive back to the house. She mentions how the excitement has given her a headache, and he urges her to go rest. It’s terrifying, the change in him: his attitude with her, his obvious care and the juxtaposition to his behavior in the restaurant.

Needing a break from the tension he built inside you earlier, you grab a change of clothes and run for the shower, grateful for the temporary oasis.

You try to take your time, to focus on anything and everything except the overwhelming need to be fucked into your matress. A few, blissfully steam-filled minutes later you hear the bathroom door open.

“Mom?” You call out, but after a few silent moments you think you might have imagined it. Until the curtain opens and Joel steps in as naked as the day he was born.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You let out a terrified whisper and your first instinct is to cover yourself.

“Calm down, your mama’s sleepin’. She was feelin’ drained' from work and everythin’ so she took an ambien.” He steps towards you, forcing you to take a step back. “This water’s fit to burn my skin off.” He hisses but doesn’t adjust the temperature.

He steps under the spray while you tuck yourself against the corner, shaking from the chilly tile pressing against your back. Your arm is pressed to your front covering your breasts, and the other is cupping your pussy, hiding your bits from his gaze. In contrast, he’s unbothered by his nakedness. His cock is soft, his arms are strong, his middle a little soft, but his beauty is undeniable. This is a man’s body, and you take it in with increasing want.

Your eyes betray you, your body betrays you, everything inside you seems to scream betrayal when he’s alone with you like this. He tilts his face up into the hot spray. He’s so fucking handsome, so virile, so hung. You kick yourself as you stare at his cock, already knowing that you’re going to give in to him, despite your mother being asleep just down the hall.

“Come on babygirl, get under the water with me.” He reaches forward, taking your hand and pulling you towards him. You let him, heart fluttering like a bird in a cage at the feel of him pressing you close to him. The water cascades over you both, steam billowing out and his hands travel the expanse of your back. They slide over your shoulders, reaching down to cup your backside. He pulls you closer, pressing his mouth to yours and you can’t help but moan.

He smiles, moving his kisses to your neck, your shoulders and that thing inside you wins yet again. Your hands press against his chest, they move over the muscles of his arms that you cannot help but stare at, they caress his back and up to curl through the hair at the base of his neck.

You pull his face to yours for a deeper kiss, the kiss you’ve been craving since he left you wet and trembling in your bed. He groans when your tongue licks into his mouth and then it changes. From an almost sweet exploration, to a desperate need to consume one another. His cock hardens against your belly and your cunt aches at the feel of it.

“Give it to me, I want it.” Someone who cannot be you begs him, clutching at his hair when he licks at your neck, his hands palming at your breasts as your back hits the tile again.

“What do you want, baby?” He lifts your thigh, wrapping it around his hip as he slots his cock at the seam of your cunt. He doesn’t press, just glides it between your legs, never notching the blunt tip of it at your entrance like you hope he will. The head of it nudges at your clit and he rocks it against you, teasing you into madness.

You know what he wants, you want it too. As hard as he is, as desperate as you know he is to slip inside, he has all the patience in the world.

He knows this. He also knows that you are much more desperate than him.

“I want your cock daddy, please, I need it.” You all but moan, some, pathetic, half-human thing burning with a fever, begging to be fucked like a whore. Begging him. The one person you shouldn’t beg this from.

“Such a good girl, such a quick learner.” He finally grasps himself in hand, making sure you watch him as he angles himself and slides home in one smooth, brutal stroke. The moan you let out is a loud, filthy thing.

“Shh, can’t have you makin’ all that noise honey,” He slips his forearm under your calf to open you up wide, his other hand coming up to wrap around your throat. He snaps his hips hard enough to make everything bounce and you cannot imagine ever being this fucking turned on, this hot for another person.

“Or maybe you do, maybe you want your mama to come in here, see how well her babygirl takes her daddys cock.”

You close your eyes at that, it’s too filthy, it’s too depraved but your cunt still drools out its passion for him.

“You get so wet when I tell you how well you take it, even here I can feel her soakin’ me.” He stares at the juncture of your thighs- watches himself spearing you with his cock. Your eyes are half-glazed, admiring the way his neck strains, the definition in his arms, the way his mouth hangs open. His skin red from exertion and the heat of the water.

He’s right, something inside feeds off his praise no matter how fucking wrong it is, you need it.

“Yes daddy, I like it.” You confess, already damned anyway.

“I know baby, I know.” He lets go of your throat and holds onto your ass before sticking his tongue down your throat. You whimper into his mouth, holding onto his neck for dear life while inching closer and closer to the orgasm building in your hips, in the base of your spine.

“Wanna feel her now, come all over me honey-“ he begs in your ear, his hips stuttering slightly and a madness overtakes you as you shove your fingers into his mouth and slip them down over your clit. He moans, pressing his palm into the hinge of your knee, somehow opening you up even more and then it’s there, in your fingers, in your limbs and in your very soul.

“Yes, that’s it baby, yes-“ he turns his thrusts into a grinding roll, and it’s with a horrified glee that you feel him paint your insides in his come. Your eyes glued to the place you’re joined, a curious thought springs up unbidden: nothing in the world could pull you away from him at that moment, with his cock inside and his hands on your body. That realization should scare you but it doesn’t. Would your mom bursting through the door make you come to your senses? Do you really want to know the answer to that question?

“Daddy… I can feel it really deep.” You say the words in what feels like a drunken stupor and he lets out a punched out groan, pulling out to watch as he drips out of the place you now know he fucking owns.

“That’s where it belongs, honey. Nice and deep.” He lowers your leg, but pulls you close and tucks you under his chin.

“Daddy loves you, you know that right? I’m so proud of you baby.”

You’re exhausted, but the guilt doesn’t come as quickly as the first time. It’s hard for it to make it through the comfort of the hot water, the cocoon of his arms, the steady reassuring thump of his heart under your cheek. The soft press of his lips to your forehead.

He stays. He washes your hair, cleans his come from between your legs and the fatherly lines of him blur even more.

It’s wrong. You know it. It’s obviously so fucking wrong. But it feels so right, it feels good, it feels safe for him to shield your eyes from the suds, for him to massage the knots out of your back, for him to kiss you soft, for his fingers to pluck at your soapy nipples.

When you’re done and in bed, you fall asleep, and dream of a steamy bathroom and soft, chapped lips at your temple.

–

The next morning finds you well-rested. That might actually bother you more than it should, comparatively speaking. That he would be the person to fuck you well enough to give you a good nights sleep seems like some cosmically cruel joke. Memories of your mother sleeping in on Saturdays after a night out with him make you groan into your pillow.

Any acceptance, any complicity was far and foreign in the unforgiving light of day. All of the comfort you’d felt in the tail-end of that unholy shower now angered you. It was manipulation, it was coercion, how could you do that? Let him in, in all of the different ways he’d managed to push inside you in the time since you’d been home, past your protective walls and quite literally between your fucking legs. It had to be something he’d done to make you crazy. A temporary insanity, surely,

You let out a huff, noting but almost unseeing the dust motes dancing in shafts of light coming in through the window. The guilt was heavy and hot in your belly, and not only because of the betrayal but because you knew, deep in your soul, that you would not–could not deny him. That was a fact.

The pillow at your side found itself pressed to your face to cover the groan of frustration at the cringy realization that you were just another woman with daddy issues.

Hours you laid there, torturing yourself with so many flavors of guilt.

Guilt at indulging, guilt at craving, guilt at knowing that you’d most likely doing it again, guilt at tentatively imagining other places you wanted him to fuck you. Guilt at the look of devotion on your mother’s face when he smiled at her. Guilt at the dark, cruel little thing that rejoiced at him wanting you so bad.

They were both sitting at the kitchen table when you finally came downstairs. Your stomach dropped at the sight of him sitting there, in his usual place with the paper in his hands. His face gave nothing away when he looked up at you, a talent he shouldn’t have.

“Good morning, sleep okay?” Your mom smiled, moving to the sink.

“Yeah, slept great.” You smile back and you almost feel Joel’s chest puff out. You ignore him.

“That’s good, why don’t you come do groceries with me? I’m going to do a big trip so you guys aren’t starving while I’m gone next week.”

She misses your frown as she empties the dishwasher. Something big wraps itself around you, something foreboding, something inescapable. His paper flicks almost imperceptibly in the corner of your eye and still, you ignore it.

“What do you mean?” You question her, but it’s almost prophetic, because you already know.

“I thought I’d told you, I have a work trip. A conference, because of the promotion. I’m leaving on Monday morning, and I’ll be gone until Thursday. I wanted to leave the fridge full so the two of you don’t have to worry. Want to come?”

She’s still focused on putting away the dishes when you finally meet his eye. Your stomach rolls at the wink he flashes you. You can feel his thoughts like a sunburn, skin tight with the burn of it, at the promise of all of the things you already know he’ll make you do.

The things you know, deep down, you’ll beg him for.

Fuck.

#joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel x y/n #joel x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #tw stepdad #daddy joel #daddy k!nk

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myownwholewildworld · 5 months ago

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wherever you go (a joel miller's ff) - chapter 5

chapter 4 | series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 6

pairing: outbreak!2003!joel x f!reader. (it's actually 2004 now)

summary: after what happened a couple of months ago, you are ready to move forward. joel? not so much. he might need a little... prodding.

warnings: 18+, mdni. internal and verbal discussions of feelings, trauma and past relationships. some jealousy (if you squint very hard). porn with plot or plot with porn (however you wanna look at it). again, absolutely filthy smut because i don’t know any better (sorry not sorry). fluff. voyeurism (you spy on joel). masturbation (f and m). oral (f and m receiving). finger sucking. unprotected piv. praise kink. sir kink. size kink. cum eating. a bit of cum play. multiple orgasms. overstimulation. squirting. dirty talk. you are very needy in this one and joel is very possessive over you. soft!dom!joel. aftercare. pet names (darlin’, sweetheart, baby, honey). i'm sure i'm forgetting something lol. reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is 36. no use of y/n. joel’s and reader’s pov.

a/n: hiya! first i want to thank you all for the positive feedback this series has gotten! [: i started writing this for myself mainly, and decided to post it here thinking that if a couple of people liked it, it'd make my heart happy. also, i have taken some licenses with joel's past, as neither the game nor the tv show gives many details (you'll understand what i mean). anyways! after the last chapter, our two protagonists (you!) deserve a bit of calm, peace and quiet... right? 😈 as always, thank you all for engaging. i do appreciate any comments, reblogs and/or likes you may want to leave! even asks/requests/side stories if you want to! take care lovelies <3 x

w/c: ~6.3k (sorry?).

tags (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!): @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrospurplerain @missladym1981

August came around relatively quickly. Tommy had proposed you got closer to civilisation, which meant long trekking trips while the sunlight was still up. Joel agreed reluctantly, as he still thought that was dangerous. You just went along with it, letting them decide ― you didn’t really care where you ended up as long as the Millers were by your side.

Well, one of them especially.

At daytime you barely had time to yourself. However, the story was completely different at nighttime. The second you closed your eyes, snippets of what had happened two months ago flooded your memory. For the first few weeks, the nightmares were unbearable. You would wake up in the dead of night, sweaty and shaking.

And every time you woke up, Joel was by your side. He would hug you while you both laid on improvised beds, no matter how uncomfortable it was. Neither of you would talk, you would just cry in silence while your panic attack subsided ― Joel holding you throughout the whole episode. He had truly been a rock you could hold onto in the middle of a sea storm.

It got to the point where Tommy had started to realise that something was up between you two. Neither you nor Joel denied nor confirmed anything, although Tommy never asked. He would just look away when his brother would attend to you if you fell behind or would offer to do the first night shifts so Joel could be by your side at bedtime.

You were somewhat sure that Joel really cared about you. The way he would look at you… it sent shivers down your spine. The intensity in his eyes was hypnotising ― sometimes you would find yourself lost in his brown orbs, unable to look away. You also really cared about him.

You didn’t want to put a label to your feelings, mainly because you were not sure how Joel would react. You had come to understand that the man was prone to evade any topic about his feelings in general ― physical, emotional or otherwise. You could still not get him to tell you whenever he felt off. Since the blow to his head a couple of months back, Joel had been suffering with horrible headaches, to the point where he had fainted in a couple of instances.

The man was such a closed book you found out about his deceased wife the same way you knew about Sarah ― through Tommy. You assumed he had one or at least a partner at some point in time before the outbreak. The younger brother didn’t give you many details though, not that you asked either ― some wounds were better left untouched.

You liked Tommy a lot. He was a godsend ― so very different to Joel, but so similar in many ways. He was talkative and filled in long silences with stories about how they would cause mayhem at home when they were kids. You didn’t know if they were true or not, but they were entertaining nonetheless. You were under the impression that Tommy was the one who got into sticky situations and Joel was the one who had to fix them.

“I’m gonna go to the lake for a bit”, Joel told you, derailing your train of thought.

“No worries, I’ll get the fire going. Poor Tommy is always the one setting up camp”, you replied with a slight smile.

“Yeah, poor me, relegated to such unsignificant tasks”, said Tommy with a chuckle.

You smiled back and then looked in Joel’s direction. He was frowning at both of you, but quickly controlled his face expression.

“I’ll be back soon”, Joel crouched to look through his backpack, grabbing a couple of towels.

Something inside of you twisted. But you pushed the thought to the back of your head. You had already volunteered to start the fire.

You really tried to focus on the bonfire. And after a few attempts, you finally got it going. Joel had not come back yet from the lake ― it had only been ten minutes, but you were slightly worried in case he had lost consciousness again while no one was around.

“I’ll go check on him”, you told Tommy.

He looked at you with a sarcastic smile.

“Sure thing”, he replied while he started to skin a rabbit.

You rolled your eyes before you left in the direction Joel had gone.

You walked the hundred metres that separated the camp and the lake. The brothers had ensured the area was completely devoid of human existence before they decided to settle there for the night. You were now in Mark Twain National Forest, near St. Louis. You had checked out Kansas City a week ago, but both Tommy and Joel had deemed it too unsafe. So Chicago was your final destination. None of you knew what you would encounter there, but it was worth a try. The wilderness had not proven to be any safer.

Before you got to the bank of the lake, you spotted Joel in the water. He had his back towards you, your eager eyes checking out his broad shoulders, the water level up to his hips. He ran his fingers through his hair, slicking it back.

You stopped walking, somewhat mesmerised, your head slightly tilted to one side with curiosity. In the last two months, you had discovered a new side to Joel you didn’t know he had.

You guessed that what happened that night also affected him in a different way it did you. After he almost decapitated that man, you saw guilt in his eyes when he looked at you ― you still sometimes caught a glimpse of it to this day. As you found out later, that culpability was because he felt responsible for what those men did to you ― he really thought he could have done more. And he did in a sense, because for the next couple of days he hunted down every man in that group until there was no one left to hurt you. Apparently, that was not enough in his eyes, although it was in yours. But as much as you tried to explain that to him, it just wouldn’t sink in. He was so stubborn it made you go crazy sometimes.

Although Joel had been there for you emotionally, he had not touched you for the last two months. You managed to steal a few kisses from him and that was it. He had been extremely cautious with you in that respect. You were relieved he was as you tried to come to terms with what had happened, but after a few weeks it started to feel… frustrating. You were not broken and despite what he thought, you still had needs.

He suddenly looked over his right shoulder, offering you his side profile ― to you, he was gorgeous. Feeling like a child caught causing mischief, you quickly hid behind a tree. Joel looked around, eyebrows touching in confusion, but then he shook his head as if he was imagining things and proceeded to cup his hands in the water to wet his face.

You couldn’t not watch. You instantly realised that was the first time you saw him naked. The last ―and, regrettably, the only― time you two had sex, he was fully clothed. There was something very intimate about seeing him washing up.

You were so transfixed on the picture in front of you it was like the world had disappeared around you. Joel rubbed his skin with a hand towel ― his strong arms, his chest, his back, his lower stomach… Your breath quickened a bit, your heart picking up a pace. Everything about him invited you in ― it wasn’t only his rugged appearance that appealed to you, but also his character.

You started to feel hot. Had the temperature suddenly gone up? It seemed like it. Joel put the hand towel on his left shoulder. When you saw his right hand disappear below the water in front of him, your mouth went dry wishing it was your hand. You wanted to help him clean his manhood so badly ― memories of his delightful cock rocking you into a trance short-circuited your brain.

Before you could stop yourself, you placed one hand on your belly, biting your bottom lip. You finally gave in to temptation, pushing past the edge of your panties. You dipped two fingers in your slit, doing circular movements around your clit. Your eyes, albeit halfway closed in pleasure, could not leave Joel as he kept on freshening up. You pushed down your fingers a bit more, sliding one of them in your needy hole.

You closed your eyes, a half-smile showing on the corner of your lips. That felt so good. If Joel was going to do nothing about it ― fine, you would. Still behind the tree, out of sight, you held on to the bark with your free hand, upping the rhythm of your wet fingers, your thumb rubbing that tight knot in your fold. Then you slightly opened your eyes again ― you wanted to stare at Joel while you came.

But he wasn’t there anymore. You frowned, confused, but you were too busy to worry about that right now. So you closed your eyes again to fully focus on the task at hand. You leaned your forehead against the tree, feeling your orgasm wash over you with intensity. You pressed your lips, suppressing a moan as to not alert Joel of your presence.

“Am I interrupting?”, his soft voice forced you to glance in his direction with starry eyes.

He was on your righthand side, just half a metre away from you. Entirely naked in all his glory, an erection creeping up on him. You were speechless, partially because you had been caught spying on him and partially because you were still feeling the last remnants of your climax, your inner walls crying for something to choke.

“I―I…”, you really tried to excuse yourself, but your voice faltered when your eyes checked him out from top to bottom.

His body was chiselled, his muscles somewhat defined, especially around his waist. He had a pronounced V line with a hairy, happy trail which you avidly followed with your eyes until you were gifted with the sight of his veiny cock. You unconsciously licked your bottom lip.

Your fingers were still dunked in your warm pussy. Joel grabbed your wrist and took your hand out of your underwear, raising it to eye level. Your digits were sticky, covered in your own cum. You should feel ashamed, but you definitely didn’t. Not with him. Joel looked into your eyes, and, without breaking visual contact, he brought your slick fingers closer to his face. With no hesitation, he opened his mouth and pushed them into it, licking them clean. You felt your cunt gushing, eyelids half closed. You could have easily come again for him, but he released your fingers far too quickly for your liking.

“You naughty girl”, he whispered as he pulled you from the wrist to get you closer to his chest. “You taste even better than what I imagined”.

“I didn’t think you were…”

“Aware of your presence? Always, darlin’”, he finished for you.

Your cheeks blushed when he freed your wrist and lifted your chin up. His thumb caressed your bottom lip, his mouth just an inch away from yours. You bowed to kiss him, but he backed up a little, denying you.

“Are you sure you wanna do this, sweetheart?”, he asked, you could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

You nodded vehemently.

“Yes, please, Joel, I really need to feel you, to have you fuck me senseless”, you emphasized, short-breathed.

He seemed to consider your words for longer than what was acceptable. You saw his eyes flying between yours and your lips.

“Please?”, you begged.

Your prayers might have been heard, because he leaned forward, brushing your mouth with his.

“Then go down on your knees, darlin’”, he whispered against your lips.

You silently gasped as your clit pulsed at his words. You were delighted to follow his command, and so you kneeled compliantly.

When your knees touched the grass, his cock was at eye level. You couldn’t help but marvel at the sight. His dick was as big as you remembered, the memory of it filling you up still haunted you. It was so erected now that the tip touched his belly button. Joel looked so strained you thought he had to be in pain. And you were more than willing to help him alleviate it.

You moved your hand forward, but before you could try to wrap your fingers around him, Joel stopped you.

“No, with your mouth”, was his order.

You intertwined your fingers on your lower back and inclined your heard towards him. You gazed up at him, his jawline very tense. You let your tongue out and shyly tapped his glans with the tip. Joel closed his eyes immediately and grumbled loudly as his cock twitched in front of you.

That was all you needed to spur you on. You widely opened your mouth to house his manhood and sealed your lips around the head, the tip of your tongue trying to push open the slit on his foreskin. You played with him for a bit while your jaw relaxed. Then you started to push him in further and further down your mouth, as far as you could take him. His glans pushed past your uvula, you could barely breathe, just as you had imagined a few months ago ― a dream come true. You bobbed your head back and forth, feeling him in your throat, your eyes watering. But you were still not close to have his dick entirely in your mouth ― he was so damn big.

Joel growled in ecstasy as he looked down to you. The sight of you on your knees with your mouth stuffed, bright beautiful eyes, your tongue maliciously inciting him… He just couldn’t believe how giving you were.

“Look at you with your mouth so full”, he said placing one of his hands under your chin. He could feel his own cock expanding your throat. “You look so damn pretty, baby”.

You leaned back a bit, releasing most of his erection except for the tip. With the help of one hand you started pumping his shaft, the other gently massaging his balls. Joel eyed you intensely while you ate him up like a lollypop. His salty flavour inundated all your senses, your eyes pinned on his.

His fingers clenched in frustration.

“Shit, stop, I’m gonna come”, he mumbled as he pushed back to free his dick from your wicked lips.

No way in hell, you thought. He was not about to deny you that. You had been thinking about this moment for fucking months, you wouldn’t let him take that pleasure away from you.

You grasped him by his ass, your palms firmly pressing on his buttocks to take his cock even deeper. You then gave him head as best as you knew how, fastening the rhythm when you felt the pulsation coming from him.

“Fuck, baby―”, he moaned your name as he came in your hot, wet cavity.

You felt his spent hit the back of your throat. It was so tangy and musky. You swallowed all of it. Ah, delicious, you thought gleefully. You let go of his ass and released his dick from the prison of your lips.

You placed the palms of your hands on your knees, still on the ground, and glanced up at him innocently with a sweet smile painting your face. You then opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out to show Joel you had eaten all his cum ― a bridge of spit connecting the tip of your tongue to his glans.

He dropped one hand to break off the arch of saliva between you and him with his index, and fed it to you ― you gladly accepted, sucking his finger clean.

“Did I do good, sir?”, you asked with a small voice, looking for praise.

“Good? You did fucking splendid, sweetheart”, you beamed with the compliment and got up to your feet when he offered you a hand.

He took your hand, walking behind him as he headed towards the lake. He turned around to face you and kissed you slowly, his tongue caressing your palate. He then took a step back. The sun was setting on his back, the orange and red lighting reflecting off the waterbed. His brown eyes, bearded jaw, hooked nose, his hair curling at the nape of his neck… He looked like a roman God ― Mars, you thought. Joel looked like a man about to fight for his life and yours on the battlefield.

He sat down on a massive flat rock one metre away from the bank of the lake, which was approximately two metres wide in both directions.

“Now undress for me, baby”, he instructed.

You did not hesitate ― all your clothing fell to your feet, piece by piece, while Joel eagerly watched the show you put on. He wetted his bottom lip while he readjusted his cock on his lap. You stood there with dreamy eyes, awaiting. He motioned one hand towards the rock he was sat on, an invitation for you to join him.

Once you were sat on his right, he placed his left hand around the front of your neck ― a very slight touch that forced you to flatten your back against the rock while he positioned himself on top of you. He bit your chin while his left hand put a sweet amount of pressure on your throat. You could tell he was controlling himself.

“My turn”, he whispered, coming off you.

He got off the rock, kneeling on the ground in front of you. You put your elbows down on the rock to lift your torso and be able to look at him, your knees bent, the sole of your feet against the cold surface of the rocky platform. Joel grabbed you by the hips and scooted your ass over to the edge of the rock. Your legs were firmly pressed against each other, trying to hide your quivering cunt ― suddenly you felt shy.

“Spread your legs open for me, darlin’, lemme see”, he commended you with his hands on your knees.

You couldn’t say no to him, you didn’t want to. So you obeyed, dropping your legs to the sides, offering him your dripping fold. He traced your slit with his index, and you moaned.

“You’re so fucking wet already. So receptive, aren’t you?”, he asked looking at you dead in the eye, his finger sinking in between your legs, looking for the entrance. “Who gets your pussy so wet?”, he pushed his fingertip in your hole, and you groaned loudly. “Who, darlin’? Use your words”.

“You, only you, sir��, you gasped.

“This is mine”. He pushed in the second phalange.

You closed your eyes, trying to control your breathing.

“All yours, yes”.

His finger got completely sucked in down to his knuckle, stroking your g-spot. You harshly pressed your lips.

“Exactly, don’t you dare forget that”, his tone was so serious you looked at him enigmatically, not really understanding where that sudden possessiveness came from, but you loved every bit of it. And you were more than happy to put his doubts to rest.

You nodded frantically.

“I would never, sir, I swear my pussy is all yours”, you really meant it.

“As it should be”, he added a second finger as he leaned forward and kissed your mound.

You sighed, eyes teary, and flattened your back against the rock again, as Joel made out with the fatty skin above your clit. He introduced a third finger, all of them rubbing your anterior wall. Then his mouth dropped and sucked in your clit. Your knees trembled while you held both of your breasts, playing with your nipples and biting down your lip to stop your wanton screams. He insisted with his kissing until your wet cunt started fluttering around his fingers, a clear tell you were about to come. He stroked your clit with his teeth, very lightly, sending shivers up your spine. Your legs pressed against his head, tension building up. And then, finally, sweet release. You came so hard on his mouth, and he drank it all.

He unburied his head from in between your legs and glanced at you with a sufficient smile.

“You taste even better directly from your creamy cunt, baby”, you were glad he was so talkative during sex, especially if it was to praise you.

Joel placed the palm of his hand over your mound, his fingers covering your damp pussy, and rubbed with just the right amount of friction. You exhaled slowly.

“I’m gonna make you come again”, he promised.

You pursed your lips, your cunt palpitating at the prospect.

“I don’t know if I can―”, you uttered under your breath.

He raised an eyebrow, almost as if he was offended. Joel grabbed your thighs and pulled towards him; the back of your knees placed on his shoulders.

“Don’t doubt me, of course you can. I said I’ll make you”, his mouth was so close to your moist pussy you felt his cool breath on your damp skin.

You whimpered when his tongue swept your entire slit unhurriedly, from your perineum to your clit, his hand climbing up your body to squeeze one of your breasts firmly. Joel repeated that move a few times ― and your brain chemistry would be changed forever after that. He briefly pinched your nipple while he paid special attention to the core of your pleasure. Joel smothered your clit with his lips ― you closed your eyes while placing a hand over his on your boob.

Joel’s tongue stopped torturing you for a second. He nudged your clit with the tip of his hooked nose and then inhaled your sweet smell. That scent was making him go wild with lust to the point where he started fisting his cock, the tip already leaking with precum. He flattened his tongue against your swollen lips, wiggling it through the slit to touch your needy hole. He could not believe you were this wet for him ― if he had the chance, he would drink from your seeping fold every single day. This was how ambrosia tasted like ― he was damn sure of it.

He placed his hands to each side of your puffy flaps to spread your pussy open, while the tip of his tongue slipped inside of you. Your free hand flew to his head, fisting a handful of hair. Your toes clenched as he started to fuck your hole with his tongue. You felt your whole uterus contracting so hard it was almost painful. Your cum started to ooze out as a new orgasm hit you with full force, yelling his name. Joel did not waste any of it, licking it off you shamelessly.

What just happened ― that felt like sin, the most beautiful sin you had ever experienced. Your breathing was so irregular you thought you were going to have a heart attack. Then you heard Joel snickering as he got back up to his feet.

“See? Told ya”, he said smugly as you placed the elbows on the rock to lift your chest and glance at him.

He was jerking off, his cock ready for you again. You sat back up and leaned forward, your hands on his muscular thighs as you kissed the slippery tip, the shaft, then his balls. You showered pecks all over his manhood, worshipping it.

“S-sorry, sir, can I ask? Is your cock only mine? P-please?”, you asked in between smooches, almost panting, looking at him with puppy eyes.

Joel’s irises were swirling with desire, his hips slightly slanted forward towards your mouth, his dick visibly spasming while he caressed your cheek.

“All yours, yes”, he replicated your exact words, your heart fluttering with contempt.

You smiled at him before licking his testicles again ― your hand pushing his shaft against his lower belly to give you better access. Your eyes never abandoned his as your saliva covered his soft ball sacks.

This time he did step back, and you let him.

“I need you inside me, please”, you murmured.

His jaw was so tight he didn’t dare to speak. Joel could feel his heartbeat on his cock, all because of you and your wanton mouth. You looked so damn beautiful ― on your knees, staring at him through your eyelashes, patiently waiting. He knew you very well by now, fully conscious that as sweet as you were acting now, that was it ― an act. And he loved every bit of it. He liked the way you replied to him when sex wasn’t involved, taking no shit from anyone, your snarky remarks driving him crazy.

Joel sat down on the rock and motioned for you to join him on his lap. You joyfully obliged, sitting atop of him. Your knees to each side of his waist, your bust against his, skin to skin. Your nipples grazed his chest, becoming harder at the electric contact. He cupped both of your boobs and pushed them up, so he could kiss them tenderly. You sighed, your mouth against his ear. Still holding your breasts, he unattached his lips from your nipples to peck your chin.

“Fuck me, darlin’”.

You looked down between you two. His erection was so prominent you knew it was hurting him. And you could ease that pain for him. Heaving, you lifted your hips up and grabbed his dick. It was hard but soft at the same time, velvety, very warm and beating. So sensitive to the touch he groaned ― music to your ears. You hugged his neck with your free arm as you guided his tip to your leaking entrance.

With a sudden drop of your hips, you impaled yourself harshly ― his bollocks kissing your tumid lips. You circled your hips against his, very slowly, which made you both moan in unison. Then you raised your body, his cock slipping out completely. Holding him from the base, you came down on him sharply again.

Joel was close to losing his mind. If you did that one more time, he wasn’t going to be able to hold it for much longer. You seemed to understand that, because you started to rock your hips back and forth, up and down. He kneaded your ass, feeling your rhythm, spurring you on. His fingers squeezed the skin under them while he kissed your collarbone. His mind was completely blank ― he could only focus on your sweet pussy hugging him, choking him. His dick felt so wet, so hot, throbbing for release… You kept on riding him, your movements growing erratic as you both were close to climax.

You surrounded Joel’s neck with both arms, pressing your breasts against his handsome face, your hips flushed with his, as your cunt angrily convulsed around his erection in blissful liberation. Joel held it together while you recovered, his hands still on your ass cheeks, fingers so clutched they were close to dislocating.

“Baby, if you don’t get off, I’m―”, pain smeared his tone. He was really fighting for his life right there and then.

“Oh, sorry”, you said with a small voice, still feeling your own pleasure. You elevated your hips, so his manhood popped out with a squelching sound.

You were not going to leave him hanging, obviously. So you kneeled before him, in between his strong legs, and kissed his tip. Joel sighed loudly when you closed off your lips around him for the second time today and pumped his shaft fast and strong, milking him dry. A minute later, your throat was clogged with his spent. A drop of it trickled down the corner of your mouth.

Joel leaned forward and caught the cum off the corner of your mouth with his thumb before rubbing it on your lips. Then he kissed you wetly, devouring you. He could never have enough of you.

“Thank you, sir”, you whispered with a smile when he was done assaulting your mouth.

He just smiled back. A genuine smile, the first you had seen from him. It tugged at your heart a little.

You were still feeling restless. Although you had orgasmed four times already, your pussy lips were so inflamed you thought you were on your way down to hell. Still on your knees in front of him, you softly massaged your sensitive clit. It was burning ― you suppressed a sob as you glanced up at him, lips slightly parted.

“What is it? Is your tight pussy still gushing, sweetheart?”, he asked you, cupping your chin.

You nodded, tears of frustration blurring your vision.

“I need more, I can’t ― my pussy is on fire, sir”, you muttered, feeling sorry for yourself. You were in a heightened state of sensory overload.

“Let me help you with that then”, you almost cried of relief at his words.

You quickly got up and kneeled on top of his lap again. He slipped a hand in between your bodies to caress your core. Your flesh trembled at the touch. Suddenly you realised you desperately needed to find your own rhythm ― you didn’t have to communicate it, Joel understood it in a second. He stopped and let you do what you had to do. You placed the palm of your hands on his shoulders and started rubbing your pussy against the side of his still hand. You slid your cunt further up to his elbow, and then returned back to his wrist. Your clit greedily welcomed the tingling sensation of the hair on his forearm against your wet slit.

You kept on rocking your hips back and forth on his forearm, pressing hard against it, sliding, rubbing and causing as much friction as you could, the heat in your belly flowing down to your crotch. You buried your fingers in his wet hair and tilted his head backwards so you could rest your forehead against his. Your inner walls contracted extremely hard and then you let go, squirting plentifully for a few never-ending seconds on Joel’s forearm. Your overstimulated cunt was leaking on top of him as if someone had opened the tap of your pleasure and couldn’t close it. When the last wave of your climax abandoned you, you looked down to see how it all trickled down from his forearm onto his lap.

You closed your eyes, content, when he gently tapped your pussy a few times. You breathed in deeply, feeling completely satisfied, finally at peace. Then you pecked his lips with gratitude.

“Better now, baby?”.

“Yes, infinitely better. I―I’m sorry I made a mess”.

“Don’t you apologise for that”.

You both remained in that position for a few minutes ― his now relaxed, wet cock warmly lodged between the flaps of your still dribbling cunt. He hugged your waist to bring you closer to him, his mouth brushing yours in a moment of calmness you had not experienced with him yet.

When his lips released yours, you placed your cheek against his right shoulder, your fingertips tracing the scar on it. Silence ensued, neither of you felt the need to fill it with words.

As much as you fought against yourself, you had feelings for Joel. Although you probably didn’t know all his faces, you knew enough about him to love him. The way he would have you on your tiptoes with his sarcastic comments, his bluntness, his rudeness, the way he would snap back at you when you pressed his buttons ― but also his kindness, his caring side, his softness, how he worried about you making sure you were okay, his demanding sexual needs, the way he made you feel when his hands mapped out your skin.

But you were not sure what he thought about all of this. In some respects, his mind was inscrutable. It was part of his charming personality, you guessed. You kissed the scar on his shoulder as he buried his face in your hair, inhaling your scent.

“I love how you smell”, he murmured.

“Is that the only thing you love about me?”, you couldn’t resist, the words just slipped out of your mouth. You wished you could take them back, but it was too late for that.

Joel slightly froze in place at your question. He couldn’t deny that he had started to develop feelings for you. The way you looked at him made him want to be a better person. Although you drove him crazy sometimes, you made his days bearable, a shining beautiful light amongst so much darkness. You were his lighthouse, guiding him to shore. He just needed to learn how to surf through the violent waves before he could safely approach the coast.

Knowing how close he had been to losing you had opened his eyes to a new, unknown reality. He would literally kill for you if he had to ― he had already done it and would do it all over again without blinking. No regrets whatsoever.

But he had some unresolved trust issues when it came to romantic relationships. Joel married Sarah’s mother, Charlotte, when they were both twenty-one years old, as soon as they knew they were expecting. The first two years were very hard on them both, parenthood was not a piece of cake. Resentment had grown between them, to the point where Charlotte had accused him of robbing her of her fun years, which led her to cheat on him. They tried to salvage their marriage for the sake of Sarah, but they never did ― Charlotte died in a car accident while on a heated, angry phone call with Joel.

He locked away those thoughts ― it wasn’t the time nor the place to dwell on the past. Not when he had you with him.

“I… well, no. I love everything about you, sweetheart”, he conceded.

Your heart skipped a beat with joy. No, it wasn’t a love confession, but it was much more than what you were expecting of him. You turned your face against his neck and placed a kiss on his Adam’s apple.

“C’mon, let’s freshen up, I want to clean my mess off you, I do feel a bit bad”, you said with a chuckle.

You got off his lap, the cool breeze touching your sweaty skin. You offered him a hand, which he took, standing up behind you. Without letting go of his fingers interlaced with yours, you guided him to the water. It was cold, but you ventured inside with Joel following you. When the level was up to your waist, you turned around in Joel’s embrace.

You proceeded to wash off your cum and his off his cock, his lap, his forearm. When you were done, he kissed the top of your head. His left hand did the same to you, his fingers caressing your pussy, cleaning the proof of your shared pleasure. He did so not in a sexual way, but in a caring, intimate way. A minute later, you both disappeared beneath the water to emerge a second later, to wash off all the sweat. You found yourself in his arms again, your cheek against his chest ― you could hear his heart beating loudly but steadily.

“Joel, I―”, you didn’t know where to start. There were thoughts you had been wanting to put into words for a while now. “What happened to me sucks and I still die a bit inside when the memories come back at night. But none of it was your fault, nor mine. I do not want those bastards to win, to ruin my life. And my life with you. And I know it will take time to heal that part of me, or maybe it will never heal, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t want you. I want you so badly, Joel, but what I do not want is you walking on eggshells around me. I’m not broken, I want to move forward, not get stuck in the past. Do you understand what I mean?”, you asked, your cheek still against his chest, looking up at him.

His eyes were focused on yours. His heart shrunk a bit, sharing your pain. If he could, he would take it away, all of it ― the fear, the panic attacks, the agony, the memories, the nightmares. But he couldn’t change the past. So, he nodded.

“I do, honey”, he whispered as he bowed down to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

You both stood there for a few more minutes, hugging each other in silence. Then Joel grumpily ended the embrace.

“We should get back, Tommy is going to kill us”.

You laughed because it was so true. You both got out of the lake, towelled down and got dressed. You started walking towards the campsite besides him ― your hand in his, fingers entangled. When you saw the tent and Tommy’s outline against the fire, you got ready to release his hand. But he didn’t let go when Tommy turned around to look at both of you.

You tried to hide a soft smile ― and failed.

The younger Miller noticed you holding hands but made no comment about it. But he did smile. A very wide smile.

“Well, about damn time, dinner is almost ready”, he said with amusement, pointing to the rabbit impaled with a stick roasting on top of the fire. “If you took any longer, the rabbit was going to come back to life and run away”.

“Always so theatrical, Tommy”, you chuckled.

163 notes · View notes

blues824 · 1 year ago

Note

Scared to ask this one lmfaoo!... Let's have the reaction of all of Diasomnia dorm! <3 Uuhhhh but can I get a Biological Teen Mother of Sliver!Mc... like she had him at a young age? Currently she could be in her late 20s going into her early thirties! And maybe they could be from a different or even from Twisted wonderland ( that's up to you! ^w^) but Biological father of Sliver, very bad man, evil king- And Mama Sliver/Mama Mc is very protective and got in contact with Malificent for help! I was thinking of a kind of Sleeping Beauty Syndrome for Mc! Which is an extremely rare condition that causes intermittent episodes where you sleep for long periods of time, which prevents you from staying awake during the day (hypersomnia). This would explain why Sliver is always sleepy, and also what Lilia could not find a cure for it! Mama loves her baby Sliver, but understands if he wants nothing to do with her at all even if she does want to be in his life again...

Female reader, obviously. Low-key made this a Lilia x reader fic lol.

It all started with an arranged marriage when you were 18. Your rich family from the Queendom of Roses were somehow in-touch with a noble family in Briar Valley, and they set up a marriage between you and their son. Upon meeting for the first time, the two of you did not get along. To put it simply, he was rather rude to you despite you both being human. Your family was forcing you into it because, and I quote, “How would you find a husband if you keep sleeping the day away?” You had sleeping spells that left you unable to do much, and your family shamed you for it.

At the wedding, you saw your now-husband slip away quietly, and when you followed him, you saw him with another woman… or three. It didn’t bother you all that much. It’s not like you loved him at all. What did bother you was that you were going to have to sleep with that STD-ridden flea bag in order to produce a child, and then you could escape this loveless marriage. However, that requires being in bed with him.

The first time you had lain with your husband, you felt absolutely disgusted. You were angry; at him, at your family for forcing you to be with him, and at the world for predestining you for this. But, you had gotten what you wanted out of it. You were pregnant, which meant you never had to sleep with that deadbeat husband of yours ever again.

Upon learning that you were with child, you contacted Queen Maleficia for help. You explained to her about your situation, and she was more than happy to help. She already had someone that the baby could go to, actually. You were basically a surrogate now. Her Royal Majesty understood that it would be no good environment for the baby if you were to stay with your husband, so she made arrangements for you to stay within the castle up until your labor and the recovery process.

Lilia was the one to hold your hand while you gave birth, actually. The Queen was making the preparations outside of the room. A nursery had been set up for the baby, and maids and servants were rushing in and out of the delivery room.

When the baby was finally born, you held him for a few moments. It was as though the world had gone quiet, because he was not crying. You weren’t crying either. Baby Silver was sleeping in your arms, and you realized that your child had inherited your condition. You trusted, however, that Lilia would not shame him for the condition as he had not shamed you. You could see the good future that Silver would have, but it would be without you.

One last kiss was placed on Baby Silver’s brow before you, with tears in your eyes and a heavy heart, handed him over to Lilia.

“I’m sorry, my baby. It’s better off this way. Just know, I will reunite with you soon.”

That started the recovery process, where Silver would remain asleep until your departure. When you left, you left to gain the help of the Queen of the Queendom of Roses. After all, you needed the help of both queens if you were going to get out of this marriage and gain the rights of your child.

~~~~~~~~

When he was just a young boy, Silver couldn’t help but wonder where he came from. He knew that Lilia was not his biological father. After all, if he were, he would at least be half-fae, and their ears would be similar. No, he was fully human. The knight-in-training was very observant. Plus, there was his condition to consider. The man who he came to call his ‘father’ did not have it, and from what he had read it was a genetic condition.

The only thing he has from his mother or father is a letter containing just three words. It isn’t signed, but he knows it’s from one of his biological parents:

“My dearest Silver.”

He had many questions about his parents: Were they kind? Did they know how to cook? Where were they? What did they do? Why did they give him up?

That last question wasn’t one out of sadness or spite. He genuinely wanted to know. He is sure they had a good reason. From what Lilia had told him, which was very little and very vague, you gave him up because you wanted him to have a better life. A better life compared to what alternative?

“When you’re older, Silver, I will tell you everything. Just know that your mother loves you very much,” Is what Lilia often told him. This answer frustrated him, and he wanted to know more. But, the former General would just brush his questions away.

~~~~~~~~

“Is everyone ready?” Here we are, a few years later. Silver was a second year at NRC, and the Briar Valley crew was going to head back home for Winter Break. He made sure that he had everything he needed, and he made sure to say farewell to Yuu and Grim before going through the mirror. It was unfortunate that they couldn’t go home to visit, but maybe they could enjoy their stay at NRC?

Anyways, everything was just as Silver had left it. His room looked exactly the same. The days were exactly the same. The training post was exactly the same.

…So why did something feel different?

The air was more sombre than he remembered. Typically, there were festivals held in Briar Valley, or there was something happening in the palace. However, the maids and servants were whispering amongst themselves as he made his way to the prince’s chambers. Gossip did tend to spread, so he wondered what the latest piece of gossip was.

“Silver, follow me. Your presence is required in the throne room.” Malleus met him in the hallway, surprising the knight. His tone was serious, and he nodded before trailing after the dragon fae.

~~~~~~~~

“I apologize for taking so long, Your Majesty, General Lilia. A marriage of this sort hasn’t really happened within the Queendom of Roses.”

“It’s quite alright, Y/N. I am just happy that you are out of that dreadful marriage. I apologize that you had to go through something like that anyway!” Queen Maleficia exclaimed.

“I’m sure you would have been here if you could, Y/N,” Lilia smiled as he said it to you.

A knock on the large door to the throne room echoed, making you jump a bit. It had been 17 years since you have been in the Briar Valley Palace, and for that you regretted every second of it. You have kept yourself away from your son just so you could get a divorce, but you missed all of his firsts: his first word, his first step, his first real food, his first day of school, etc.

The door opened, and a guard was followed by Prince Malleus and Silver. You could recognize that hair and those eyes from anywhere. They were your baby’s. You let out a gasp, and your eyes immediately started to tear up.

“Your Royal Highness, Malleus Draconia, accompanied by Sir Silver,” The guard announced, as though you needed an introduction. You quickly stood up and walked over to the pair, hands shaking as you reached out to touch your son’s face.

“Silver,” Queen Maleficia started to say, “Malleus, this is Silver’s mother.”

Tears made their way from both yours and Silver’s eyes. Your hands met the sides of his face, and his hands immediately went to cover yours. This is what the both of you have been wanting for years now.

“My dearest Silver…” Upon hearing those words, Silver broke down in a full sob as he wrapped his arms around your frame. You returned the favor, holding your son close to you. It has been too long, truly.

“My dearest mother.” Were the first words he uttered to you, and you couldn’t be happier in your entire lifetime.

If time could stop, it would have stopped right there. However, he pulled away after a few moments before turning to Lilia, who had walked up to the two of you. He was in his army-day getup, dressed as a former General would be.

“This isn’t some cruel prank, is it, father?” He asked, wondering if he was going through another one of his sleeping spells.

“I assure you that it is not, my dear boy.” Lilia pulled the knight into an equally affectionate hug. The three of you were crying, and you turned to give the bat fae a hug as well in gratitude.

~~~~~~~~

You and Silver decided that, in order to bond a little, it would be best if the two of you went on a walk with one another. So, you were taking your time in going through the palace gardens.

The 17-year-old knight had so many questions to ask you, and you were very happy to answer any that he had. The first was about his condition.

“Mother, do you have the sleeping condition that I have? Are you where I get it from?”

“Yes, you inherited it from me. Your grandparents from my side in the Queendom of Roses did not like that I had it.”

“What were my grandparents like?”

“Well, from my side, they forced me into a marriage with your father. However, from your father’s side, they were very kind to me. They actually helped with the divorce process.”

“Why did you and my father get a divorce?”

“That is a story for another time. Just know that it was why I kept myself from seeing you because I knew that it was not a good environment for you to grow up in.”

“Is he why you gave me away?” You stopped in your tracks to look at your son, and his eyes held both anger and sadness. You reached your hands up once again to cup his face, your face straight but emotional.

“I did not give you away. I never wanted you to think that, Silver. I wanted to give you your best chance, and that was not with me by your father’s side. Because he hailed from Briar Valley and I hailed from the Queendom, the process got complicated and I had no choice. If I left anybody intentionally, it was him and not you.

“Lilia raised you to be a good man and a good knight to the prince, and he did not judge you for our sleeping spells. You made it to Night Raven College with him guiding you. Your father would have tried to prevent you from reaching success just as he did with me. I was in college myself, studying to become a doctor and maybe find a cure for my… our condition.”

Silver was in deep thought, and you couldn’t read his face. Then he nodded before continuing to walk.

“What was my father like?”

“I don’t really know how to describe him. He valued his work and he did not value family as much as he should have. He was the son of one of the very few human noble families within the Briar Valley. I’m trying to think of a way that doesn’t impact you negatively, if I’m being honest.”

“I would rather have your honest opinion. I am nearly an adult, and I am a knight now. I should be able to handle it.”

“Well, on our wedding day, I saw him in bed with a few other women, so that was not a very good impression at all. I hadn’t met him before that day, actually. Now, he is where you get your silver hair and auroral eyes. However, from the letters Lilia has sent me throughout the years, you seem to have gotten my personality as well as the Sleeping Beauty Syndrome.”

Silver nodded, looking forward before starting to speak again.

“I waited for as long as I could remember for some other form of communication. I don’t even have any last name. Not yours, not my father’s, not even Lilia’s. Why didn’t you ever send me another letter? Why didn’t you address the one I had received?”

“I didn’t want you looking for me. You don’t have your father’s name because I didn’t want you looking for him either. I do not know why Lilia didn’t give you his last name. You might have to ask him.”

“All my life I have asked the old man many questions about my parents, but he didn’t give me any information aside from that you were beautiful, that you loved me very much, and that you let me go to give me the best chance I could have.”

“I don’t know about the first one, but the other two were correct,” you giggled. Lilia had always been a bit of a flirt towards you, especially during your pregnancy. Even through the letters he had sent, there was always a bit of a flirtatious attitude. “I do love you very much, Silver.”

“I love you too, mother. And for the record, you are very beautiful. All of what Lilia has told me would be correct.” You turned to look at him and he also had a smile on his face.

~~~~~~~~

“Wait… so, what you’re informing me, Waka-sama, is that after 17 years, Silver’s mother finally appeared. How do we know she is his true mother?”

Sebek could not believe this. He has known Silver his entire life, and only now does any of his parents reach out. He sat with Lilia and Malleus in front of him in one of the many rooms of the palace. He placed himself on the chair at a table within the room, holding his head in his hands as he tried to retrace everything that the two had told him.

“Because, silly, I have met her before. One would say that I’ve even loved her before,” Lilia was still in his mature form when he said this. The former general was there from the beginning. He was at your wedding because the family had history in the military of Briar Valley. That was when he found himself entranced by you.

The reputation of the man you were wed to was less than desirable, and his family was mostly just desperate to get him married to somebody. They opted for someone who didn’t know about the guy, so they decided to choose a family of high standing from another realm.

He remembers the day you came to the palace, a slight bump visible under your gown. You had a cloak on to conceal your identity, and he was the one who answered the palace gate. Tears were running down your face, and Lilia immediately took you inside to get you warmed up.

Malleus remembers that day as well. He was also at your wedding, and while he didn’t talk with you much because you were very quiet, he could tell that you were very nice. He was still awake at the time you had entered the castle, and he listened along with his grandmother about your issues. He also saw the almost murderous amount of anger in Lilia’s eyes.

Anyway, back to the present, Sebek was having a hard time grasping everything that was happening. Then, he stood up.

“Would it be appropriate if I were to go see her?” He asked.

“I have no doubt that it would be very appropriate. I expect her to drop by your domicile later because she is well acquainted with your father. As humans hailing from Briar Valley, they connected, and I believe your father was her dentist when she resided here,” Malleus explained.

Suddenly, the crocodile was overcome with even more shock; His father knew you?? How come he had never informed him or Silver of anything about you?

“Your mother knew her too. The two were actually quite good friends, if I remember correctly…” Lilia trailed off in thought, trying to remember if what he said was actually true.

Then, Sebek passed out from the overwhelming feeling of this bombshell that was dropped on him.

~~~~~~~~

When you had returned from your walk with your son, you were met with Lilia extending his arm to you. You looked towards Silver and he nodded his head at his father figure before walking off. So, you accepted the fae’s arm and began walking with him.

“How was your conversation?”

“It went exceedingly well, Lord Vanrouge. He had so many questions, and I answered each one he had.”

“That is good to hear, darling. I’ve missed you very much, as you’ve probably guessed by now,” Lilia stopped in his tracks as he slipped his arm from yours to bring your hand to his lips and place a kiss upon your knuckles.

You couldn’t help but feel a tad flustered, but a smile graced your lips as you leaned forward to place a kiss on his cheek.

“I’ve missed you too, Lilia.” Said fae smiled in return as he once again extended his arm for you to take, and you began walking again.

“By the way, Lady Y/N, young Sebek would like to see you. He’s Dr. Zigvolt’s youngest son, 16 years old. A meeting has been arranged at their abode.”

“That sounds lovely! It’s been a while since I’ve visited the Zigvolt’s. From what I remember, I have only met their older son and daughter.”

~~~~~~~~

It was in the evening when the gathering was, and you, Lilia, and Silver knocked on the door to the Zigvolt’s house. The door was answered by the matriarch of the house.

“Y/N! It’s so good to see you!” She gave you a very tight hug, letting a few tears run down her face at knowing that you were alright.

Everyone went inside, and the table was set for supper. The older Zigvolt children walked up and gave you hugs as well. You remember seeing them when they were barely old enough to speak, but the memory of a half-fae is not to be underestimated under any circumstances.

“LADY Y/N! IT IS VERY NICE TO MEET YOU AT LAST!” You turned towards the shouting voice to see a young man bowed at a perfect 90° angle. “MY NAME IS SEBEK ZIG-”

“SHUT UP! SHE PROBABLY KNOWS WHO YOU ARE!” His older sister shouted at him, bonking him on the head to try to get him to quiet down.

“Thank you for introducing yourself, Sebek,” you were trying your hardest not to laugh at the family dynamic. “It is very nice to meet you! Silver has told me many wonderful things about you, and your dedication is the first thing I see within you.”

The guy was very close to tears at your words, his heart feeling warm.

“Y/N, is that you?” You turned to see the patriarch of the household, and you greeted him with a warm hug of his own.

~~~~~~~~

Walking back to the palace, Lilia lingered behind you and your son so that you two could continue talking with one another. After all, you had only one question for him.

“Silver, I know I have not been present in your life, and I hope you can come to understand the reasoning behind it. However, I am finished with my education and I will be working alongside Dr. Zigvolt as a doctor in Briar Valley. I wanted to ask you something, if you wouldn’t mind.” Your nerves were at an all-time high, not sure how you should phrase your question.

“What is it, mother?”

“Would you still want me in your life? I know you’re almost an adult, and I missed every single milestone of your life. I will understand if you don’t want me to-”

“Yes, please.”

“...What?”

“I said yes, please. I would love to have you in my life. But, how will Lilia take it?”

“He knows, honey. That’s why he’s behind us. I believe there is a way where it could work out…” and suddenly, you were being hoisted up into the fae’s arms in a bridal carry. You let out a squeal as Silver smiled at the shenanigans of his parental figures.

Yeah, he knew that Lilia had been smitten with you for a while now. Throughout his childhood, he has had the pleasure of hearing a story be told and retold, and he understands that it was a metaphor for Lilia’s love for you.

“There once was a princess, as beautiful and as kind as could be. Her voice would draw in fauna of all kinds. However, she was afflicted with a curse. She couldn’t stay awake.

“Her family was horrible to her, calling her names because of her curse. All she ever wanted to do was help people like her, but the family wanted to continue their bloodline. So, they married her off to a noble from a distant land.

“The wedding was a party to remember, but in the audience was a soldier, smitten with the princess. From that point on, he swore to himself that he would protect her until the world ends. Even then, his dying breaths would be used to serve her instead of himself.

“She eventually fell pregnant with a child, and she went to the castle to seek the aid of the Queen of this distant land. There, her unborn child received a blessing, and the soldier took care of her for the nine months following. He was at her beck and call; whatever she wanted, he took it upon himself to acquire it for her.

“It was in her 6th month where the two shared their first kiss. She had been working hard to try and separate herself from her husband, as she never loved him. Instead, she found herself in love with the soldier. His kindness and the stories he had to share of camaraderie and bravery on the battlefield entranced her. She found herself being lulled to sleep each night by his voice.

“However, sleep kept them apart. Her condition extended itself because of the child taking a toll on her energy. There were days where she would sleep for days on-end. However, the soldier would not leave her side. Instead, he would keep bringing her cups of tea in case she were to wake up. Each evening, he would place a kiss upon her forehead and speak to her as though she were awake.

“The night she gave birth to her child, she was accompanied by the soldier. He held her hand, and when the baby was born, the midwife cleaned the infant and handed him to the soldier. At that moment, the soldier swore to protect both the princess and the baby with his life.”

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trickphotography2 · 2 months ago

Text

D-Day by TrickPhotography | Chapter 20

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female!reader

Word count: 6.6k

Synopsis: After finding out his girlfriend is pregnant, Jake is ready to move in and get married. The last thing he expected was to be hit with a six-month deployment at sea and missing the birth of his first child.

18+, minors DNI

Chapter 19 | Series Master List | Ao3

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Chapter 20

After the excitement of seeing Jake, the holidays could never stack up.

It took a little while to get back onto the time zone, and you dragged yourself through work. The post-babymoon blues hit hard, and you wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed, wearing Jake’s sweatshirt that you’d stolen and stretched too much to give back and wallow for the last few months of the deployment. But being alone at home gave you too much time to think. It was easier to try and focus on wrapping things up for the year instead of staring at your phone and wishing it would chime.

The war games had officially started, and Jake was on telecom blackout for three weeks.

Office holiday parties and the Daggers dropping by weren’t enough to keep your mind off what was happening in the Pacific. The adage of no news is good news kept being tossed around, but that didn’t stop you from dreaming about finding out that your husband died through an email about the Vigilantes requiring a new F-18 after theirs crashed into the ocean. Your recurring nightmare of Javy showing up with the Chaplin decided to play on repeat whenever you tried to sleep.

Irrationally, you started to hate it when your computer chimed to notify you of a new email.

At your first appointment with Dr. Shearer after Japan, you cried when she asked how the trip was. Guilt ate at you, knowing that your breakdown was making the appointment run long and putting her off schedule, but she didn’t seem to care as she hugged you and held your hand. Under her gentle questioning, you told her about the nightmares and pacing the house at night. About turning down offers to go out with friends and the baby shower your coworkers offered to throw you. How your parents were checking in on you more. And how you were so afraid that your husband would die before he got a chance to meet your daughter. When she asked you how long it had been going on, you just shrugged and said for a few months.

“Oh, honey,” Dr. Shearer sighed. “I know we discussed this before your trip - that doesn’t sound like baby blues. You’ve got a lot going on, and I think it’s time we discussed how you’re doing with all of it. Especially with your history of depression.”

“I thought it’d get better after I saw Jake,” you said softly.

By the time you left her office, you had a new prescription for an anti-depressant and a list of therapists who specialized in prenatal depression. When you tried to decline the medication, not wanting it to impact Sloane, Dr. Shearer assured you that they would have minimal impact on her, if any. “Sometimes you need to put your oxygen mask on before helping others, Mama. You’re just as important as your little girl, okay? And I’m sure your husband would tell you the same thing.”

That didn’t stop you from crying in your car before calling out of work for the rest of the day. After stopping at the pharmacy, you went home and put on Jake’s sweatshirt before spritzing his cologne on your pregnancy pillow and crawling into bed. A headache throbbed dully as you closed your eyes, dreading talking to your husband for the first time and telling him that you couldn’t even get through your first major deployment together without slipping into a depressive episode.

Jake had been upfront about his intention to stay in the Navy for as long as possible since you started dating. Which meant that you had many, many deployments ahead of you. Months at a time of being separated. And, irrational as it was, you worried what he would think of you stumbling like this on the first one. You never wanted to be a reason for Jake to worry. His job was too dangerous for his attention to be split, so you’d striven to keep how much of a toll his being gone was taking on you quiet. Put on a brave face in front of your friends, knowing they would report their concerns to him. They might have commented on you looking tired, but you didn’t tell them about your nightmares. And it was a convenient excuse for getting out of plans.

He’d put up with a lot with his ex, between her infidelity and worrying about seizures, and you didn’t want to force him back into that mindset. You’d reassured him time and time again that you were okay and that growing up with your dad on temporary duty for a year had prepared you for this. But being a kid, missing your parent, and being a wife missing her husband was different.

Things would be so much more complicated in the future when you had to take care of not only yourself but also Sloane, you thought as your daughter moved. Mom had made it look easy, juggling her job and raising you. But the last seven months had made you worry about what it would be like trying to do the same. A tear pooled in the corner of your eye and slipped over the bridge of your nose when you imagined going through labor without Jake there. You’d been purposely not thinking about it, hoping that some miracle would happen and he would come home in time. But the only reason you could think of him being sent home early involved him getting hurt, and you couldn’t selfishly wish for that.

A sob burst from your lips, and you buried your face into your pillow, hating the thought of letting down your husband and daughter.

The weekend before Christmas, your parents flew in. Their visit had always been the plan, but you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of relief when you spotted them at the airport arrivals as you pulled into a vacant spot. After popping the trunk, you were out of the car and in Mom’s as Dad loaded the suitcases before taking his turn hugging you. Tears pricked your eyes, and for the first time in weeks, you didn’t feel like you were forcing a smile.

That lasted until you got home, and your parents realized you hadn’t done anything to decorate for Christmas. “I just haven’t had the energy,” you shrugged. Their exchanged look told you they knew it wasn’t just that, and their silent conversation made you miss Jake - knowing what your husband was thinking with just a glance.

It wasn’t surprising when Mom encouraged you to stop by the home decor store after going out for lunch. Neither you nor Jake had a tree - he’d bought a small real one for their visit the previous year, decorated with cheap plastic ornaments shoved in the attic somewhere, while you’d gotten rid of yours before the move. Mom was a Christmas fan and quickly took charge, leading you up and down the rows of trees until you picked out a pre-lit seven-and-a-half-foot tall one with artificial snow and pinecones. Dad loaded it into the cart while Mom led you to the ornaments, where you spotted a jet ornament and quickly grabbed it.

“Looks like an F-16,” Dad said, holding it up to examine it closely. A sly smile crossed his lips as he slipped it into his palm. “An Air Force jet - I approve.” That made you laugh, and you made a mental note to dig out the Air Force shirt your dad had gifted Jake last Christmas from the depths of his drawer - contrary to what he’d threatened, it hadn’t ended up as a tire rag.

They wasted no time getting the tree set up, and Dad went into the attic to get the decorations you’d purchased last year. And you managed to hold the tears in until you were hanging up the stockings, and Mom disappeared into the guest bedroom for a minute, only to return with one she’d made for Sloane. “I didn’t know if you wanted me to make you and Jake ones that say ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad,’” she smiled, “but let me know, and I can make new ones for you next year.”

Mom took a picture of you holding the stocking next to your bump before putting it next to the other ones hung on the wall. You snapped a photo of them all in a row and texted both to Jake. It went unread like the other messages and pictures you’d sent to his phone and email.

Javy came over for dinner the night before he flew to Louisiana to spend the holiday with his family. Without saying a word, you could tell he was relieved by the sight of the tree and decorations - he’d offered to get you a tree and put up lights, but you’d turned him down every time. You knew he felt guilty about spending Christmas with his parents and had pushed back his leave until your family arrived, which made you feel guilty. So you put on a happy smile and teased him all evening, especially when he opened the gift you’d labeled as from Sloane. Cackling, he held up the Funko Pop of The Godfather. Since your husband had officially asked his best friend to be Sloane’s godfather, he’d been quoting the movie nonstop. When you slipped and told him you’d never seen it, he forced a Dagger movie night.

No one had paid too much attention to the movie, more interested in swapping holiday plans and eating the snacks Javy had set out. Bob and Nat were traveling to see their families, and Ruben was going to spend it with his girlfriend’s family. When he found out that your parents were coming, he promised to swing by and say hello. Everyone planned to be back for New Year, and Bob offered to host everyone at his place. No one faulted you when you dozed off during the film, comforted by your friends' voices.

You had to double-check the next morning that you hadn’t dreamed of Bob saying he was happy to do so, especially since he’d gotten orders back to North Island with a report date in June.

So it was going to be a quiet Christmas with your parents. The only downside of their presence was that you felt trapped in your room when insomnia hit. On the first night they were there, you’d tried to sneak into the nursery only to have your dad come in and check on you. While you sat in the rocker, he lay on the ground and talked to you, catching you up on the mundane things in his life. Your eyes slowly closed as he spoke about advising the young airmen about their relationships but jerked awake when he snored. Chuckling to yourself, you shook him awake and sent him to bed before retreating to your room and dozed off.

Shit shit shit

Jake pulled up on his stick, climbing to evade the Korean pilot attempting to get tone on him. His jet felt sluggish, loaded to the max capability to safely land back on the carrier, allowing the pursuing jet a slight tactical advantage. He was nearing the decommissioned ship that they were attempting to sink with a prototype bomb, with the other countries playing defense to test their dog-fighting skills against the American pilots.

The first two weeks of the exercise focused on naval defense and surveillance, with the fleet practicing their maneuvers against allies. The pilots had been tightening their game plan for the mock attack and providing aerial coverage. The helo pilots had taken off with rescue swimmers to practice retrieving downed pilots.

As much as he would have enjoyed a dip in the Pacific, Jake didn’t volunteer for those roles. Even with the shark boats providing additional support, he didn’t want to do anything that would stress you out more.

The first few days of the fixed-wing planes being in the air focused on targeting and shooting down dud missiles and drones. It had been fun target practice, but Jake couldn’t help but note the younger pilots who needed more time in the simulators and didn’t hesitate to include them in his debrief with Mav at the end of the day. While the exercise served as practice for actual warfare, many young pilots hadn’t served in an active warzone before - they didn’t know what it was like to take fire or watch your wingman take a hit.

There weren’t many times that Jake felt his age in the cockpit, but at 36, he had over a decade on the new kids. He had two campaign medals and another for the Global War on Terrorism. He had two air-to-air kills. And he paid attention.

Word had come down that the Eisenhower had been extended for a second time due to conflict in the Middle East. If tensions continued, it wouldn’t be long until more carriers were sent to the region.

For the first time, Jake questioned how much longer he could do this. As much as he loved being an aviator, he loved being your husband more. Missing everything about your pregnancy was killing him. The exercise had distracted him over the last two weeks, but not being able to turn on his phone and text or call you was killing him.

To put it simply - Jake was homesick.

With Sloane on the way, he could only see his job getting further in the way of how he wanted to be as a husband and a father. He remembered being a kid before he knew what an asshole his father was and hated going to the dock to say goodbye. Walking away from you on the tarmac and getting in that taxi in Yokosuka had been torture - Jake couldn’t imagine having to do the same with his little girl.

“Nearing the target.” Rooster’s voice came over the comms, and Jake glanced down to see his wingman closing in on the abandoned ship towed to the middle of the ocean. Word trickled through the pilots, and the defense planes backed off, returning to their ships. While the exercise was meant to test the military capabilities, there was no way the government would have anything interfere with the testing of an advanced weapon. A helo hovered with a camera pointed at the ship, and a third jet with a WSO flew nearby to follow them as they dropped the bombs to get a closer look.

Jake quickly maneuvered into position. Rooster would make the first pass and strike to the ship's bow, with him hitting the stern seconds later. Mav was ready to launch in case they needed a third strike. After confirming he was ready and getting clearance from the boat that they were clear to proceed, Rooster called, “Sights on target. Locked…”

“Locked,” Jake echoed, the laser to paint the stern.

“Bombs away.”

“Bombs away.” Hitting the release, Jake forced the jet to scream past the ship, wanting to make sure he was out of the way in case of a malfunction. Gaining altitude, he followed Rooster as the other pilot circled back to the carrier, tipping his wing to watch the chain explosions on the ship. Fire shot from the sides before bursting onto the deck.

Grinning behind his mask, Jake radioed the tower and said he was ready to land.

They were one step closer to heading home, finally finishing the exercise.

“Ughhhh!” you huffed, throwing your tablet aside and running a hand down your face. It was almost 2:00AM on Christmas Eve, and your book annoyed you. For some reason, you’d decided to try out a holiday military romance. It wasn’t the best choice, considering the plot centered around a couple facing a deployment over Christmas, but the ending had you simultaneously jealous and frustrated.

The idea of the husband showing up on Christmas morning to surprise his family? Not likely. A deployment wouldn’t be wrapped up early just to get a servicemember home for the holidays. And if Jake ever lied about how long a deployment would be to surprise you… well, let’s just say that the guest bedroom would be his home for the time that he was supposed to be gone. Maybe other spouses enjoyed it, but you didn’t like the thought of being lied to and mentally preparing for a longer separation just for a surprise at the end.

After shifting the pregnancy pillow, you leaned against the headboard. There were few times you regretted not having a TV in the bedroom - when you’d moved in, Jake had put it in the guest bedroom at your request - but this was one of them. Sighing, you lifted your shirt and cradled your stomach, tracing the stretchmarks marring your skin. “It’s almost Christmas, baby girl,” you sighed. “And even though you can’t open your presents, you’re already spoiled. Grammy and Grandpa sent me to bed early to wrap presents. Even your daddy’s family sent you gifts.” You felt - and watched - your stomach twitch as Sloane moved. No matter how many times you saw it happen, the sight still shocked you. Her movements had been yours alone to experience for so long; now, others could easily see them, too.

“I know; I was surprised, too,” you sighed. The box was delivered to your doorstep late last night and addressed to Jake and Sloane. That had stung, especially seeing that it was from your sister-in-law, but you knew your husband would tell you that the estrangement with his family wasn’t your fault. “Your Aunt Lina sent you some stuff, and so did your Grammy and Grandpa Seresin.”

Seeing the wrapped presents from Jake’s parents had frozen you. While you tried not to think about the day that your father-in-law threatened you, it was hard to see reminders of it. You had kept what happened secret from your parents, not wanting to cause any stress, and had listened to your mom say how nice it was that the Seresins had sent presents while putting them under the tree.

Sloane rolled under your palm, and you sighed. That turned into a choked gasp when you felt your calf tightening into a painful knot. Grimacing, you pulled your leg up and tried to knead the muscle, but it didn’t improve. The tightening verged on the edge of painful, and you rolled onto your side, muffling your groan in the bedding.

A chime sounded, and you blindly groped for your phone. Another chime. And then a third.

Opening one eye, you stopped breathing when you saw that Jake was replying to the texts you’d sent during the exercise.

I’m okay with you painting the nursery as long as you’re not the one doing it. Ask one of the guys to do it after the holidays.

The truck isn’t that lifted. You’re just short. Can’t wait to drive my girls around in it again.

Mrs. Seresin, teasing me with a picture from our second date spot? Playing dirty, darling. I’ll get a list of things together for the box, but I’m almost out of aftershave and keep losing socks in the laundry here. Would you mind hitting the uniform store for me? My ribbon bar got bent, and I need a new one.

Glad the doc said Sloane’s doing great. What about you? How are you???

Damn, that’s a big tree. Making the house look like a home, darling. Wish I was there with you.

I love the stocking. Your mom did a great job.

Opening up your texts, you started to type and immediately saw a new message.

Are you awake? Why are you awake?

Couldn’t sleep, you replied. Clutching the phone tightly, you bit your lip and tapped your fist against the muscle cramp.

You should try

Tapping the voice note, you held the phone up to your mouth. “I’m dealing with a bitch of a Charlie horse right now.” Rolling off the bed, you gingerly put weight on your leg and moaned. “Fucking Jesus Christ, this hurts.” Tapping send, you waited a moment before hearing your phone chime.

Jake had sent you a voice note back. Tears welled in your eyes when you hit play and heard your husband’s voice for the first time in weeks. “Wanna call you so bad right now, but they’re making us all sign up for times to not overload the system. I’m gonna video call you tomorrow at eight in the morning your time. Wish I was there to help you with the cramp, darlin.”

A second voice note showed up as soon as you finished the first. “If we have bananas, go get one. And then I want you to get a heating pad or your ice pack and put it wherever you’ve got the Charlie horse, alright? Are you drinking enough water?”

A third. “Wait, can you get your parents to get you the stuff? I don’t want you movin’ around and fallin’. Shit, darlin’, I’m sorry I’m not there.”

After quickly saving the messages before they disappeared, you held up the phone and recorded your message. “It’s good to hear your voice, Tex. I miss you so damn much. I’m not gonna wake my parents up in the middle of the night to get me something from the kitchen when I can hobble over to get it. I think we do have bananas. But are you done with the exercise?”

“I’m sure your parents wouldn’t mind,” Jake sent back. “Just wish I was there to get it for you. And yeah, the exercise is done. We’re getting today off, and then we’ll debrief before starting the trip home.”

Carefully, you limped out of the bedroom, holding onto the walls and furniture as you moved and cursing under your breath. Gripping the couch arm, you debated lying down and waiting for the pain to pass, but the phone lit up with another message. As tempted as you were to play it, you promised yourself that you could only listen to it back in bed. Your parents were such light sleepers that they would probably overhear the message, and as much as they loved Jake, you selfishly wanted to have some time alone with him.

Slipping the phone into your sweatpants pocket, you refilled your water glass and snagged a banana off the counter before retrieving an icepack from the freezer. The trip back to the room was even slower, the light from your phone wavering slightly. After depositing the items on the nightstand, you collapsed back into the bed and gripped your calf, whimpering as you dug your fingers into the knot and tried to massage it away. When the phone continued to vibrate with incoming messages, you flipped it over and saw that Jake had sent you five texts and voice notes.

“Are you getting the stuff, honey? Tell me you’re being careful. The last thing we need is for you to end up in the hospital because you tripped over something.” The humor was evident in his voice, but then he cleared his throat. “Shouldn’t joke about that. Just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

Then there were back-to-back texts asking if you were alright and another if you’d fallen asleep.

“Alright, now I’m worried, which is stupid because you’re probably fine. It’s, what, after two there? Hopefully, you just fell asleep and will make fun of me for this in the morning. Love you, darlin’.”

The next was a picture of him scowling at his phone as he lay in his bunk with headphones in, one hand behind his head. You felt your stomach swoop at seeing him, his face slightly darker with a tan and his hair falling across his forehead. His arm seemed bigger, and you wished that it was wrapped around you. The accompanying message read Frustrated that I’m not there to take care of you right now. Could use my magic hands on you to get rid of that Charlie horse.

That made you snort, and you sent your message, unable to keep the whine from your voice, “I’d kill for your magic hands right now. Didn’t mean to worry you, but I didn’t want to wake my parents up. Feel like I’m a kid again, sneaking around the house.”

Good, I’m glad you’re ok. And you love my magic hands. They’re really good at making you feel good in so many ways.

Still chuckling, you sent, “Yes, I do miss your hands. And your arms. And your lips and dick and legs and laugh and smile and all of you.”

You’re making me blush, darling. Good thing I’ve got my headphones in so Rooster and Fritz can’t hear you.

A voice message came in before you could respond. “Just realized I haven’t said Happy Christmas Eve to my girls. I’m heading to the mess for dinner in a minute, so I’ll sign off for now. I’ll keep checking my phone now that we’re not on blackout. I hope your Charlie horse is gone, and promise me you’re taking care of yourself. I love you and Sloane so much, darlin’. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow. Love you.”

After making sure to save the message, you sent him one back. “I love you, Jake. Can’t wait to see you, too. Merry Christmas, babe.”

It took a long time to fall asleep once the muscle spasm ended. True to your word, you ate the banana and sipped your water while listening to Jake’s messages again, eventually falling asleep to him saying he loved you.

Christmas Eve was spent preparing dinner the following night, and Mom borrowed the car for some last-minute shopping. When she got back and asked for you to distract Dad, you decided to go to the hardware store and pick out paint swatches.

The store was a madhouse, but even that couldn’t take the smile off your face as Jake sent you texts throughout the day. For him, it was already Christmas, and he had the day off. Sprinkled through the messages about how much he missed you were snippets of what the crew was doing to celebrate the holiday, including pictures of trees in the mess and hangers. The highlight, however, was a video of Santa launching a jet that Mav piloted, wearing his own Santa hat stretched over his helmet. You showed your dad that one, and he begrudgingly agreed it was a cool tradition.

You saved a picture of Jake wearing a headband with elf ears, a broad grin on his mouth, as your new lock screen.

You felt like a kid that night, dozing off as your parents watched It’s A Wonderful Life and A Christmas Story, a bowl of homemade popcorn on your lap. Eventually, you were sent to bed, where it was hard to fall asleep with the anticipation of speaking to your husband the following morning. It didn’t help that, to center yourself, you played Jake’s voice notes with the phone resting on your stomach. Hearing her father’s voice, Sloane became more active and calmed down when you moved the phone to your pillow. You slept fitfully, waking with a jolt from dreams of missing the call.

The anticipation reached a height on Christmas morning. Your eyes strayed to the phone every few seconds, even though you knew there were hours before Jake would call. You kept glancing at the time while eating breakfast and drinking your only cup of coffee for the day. Knowing you were distracted, your parents didn’t push opening stockings or presents.

So, as the clock ticked closer to eight, your parents encouraged you to find a private place to talk with your husband first. Retreating to the bedroom, you settled against the headboard, squirming to get comfortable. Setting the laptop on your legs, you lifted your stretched-out sweatshirt and lightly stroked your belly, feeling Sloane’s head pressed against your side. “Daddy’s gonna call us soon, baby girl,” you said softly. “Are you gonna wake up so he can see you?”

Your alarm went off at 7:59AM, and you quickly silenced it before tapping the laptop to wake it. And, at precisely 8:00, it started to ring.

Jake’s broad grin filled the screen when you answered the call. Unlike the previous times he’d called you, you could see that he was in a room with other people, each with headphones on. He looked so happy, and, mortifyingly, you burst into tears at the sight of him. “Merry Christ… hey, darlin’ - what’re those tears for?”

“Sorry,” you gasped, wiping at your face. “Sorry, I just - ”

“Don’t apologize,” he said quickly. Through bleary eyes, you saw his brow furrowed. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. Tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just miss you so much. How was the exercise?”

“Great, it’s done,” Jake smirked. “Now tell me what’s making you cry on Christmas.”

“Jake.” He huffed your name, and you rolled your eyes. “I don’t wanna talk about it. I want this to be a good call, and we can discuss it later.”

“So there is something to discuss.” Your lower lip wobbled, and you pressed them into a thin line.

“Please?” you said softly. Jake’s playful expression disappeared.

“Darlin’, talk to me.” Though you’d promised yourself that this call would only be about Christmas, you told him everything. How Dr. Shearer had put you back onto an anti-depressant, and you had an appointment to start therapy in January. The nightmares you’d had about him dying before getting to meet Sloane. You felt like you were letting everyone down by struggling to get through the deployment, and you worried it would be more complicated once your daughter arrived.

“A-and I n-never want you to f-feel like you have to choose b-between us and your car-career,” you hiccupped.

“It’s never a choice, darlin’,” Jake sighed, fists clenching in his sweatpants. He wanted so badly to be home right then. “You and Sloane are my priority.”

“Nooo,” you groaned, pressing the sleeves of your shirt to your eyes. “T-that’s not the p-point. You shouldn’t have to c-choose just ‘c-cause I can’t handle my s-shit.”

Jake sighed your name, then repeated it in a firmer tone when you didn’t look at him. Lowering one hand, you peeked at him through your fingers. “Better, but lemme see your pretty face, honey,” he said. Groaning, you dropped your hands. “There’s my girl. I need you to listen when I say this again - you and Sloane are my priority. You two are always gonna be my top priority. So if you need to be on medication right now, and it's safe for both of you, that’s what we’re gonna do.”

“Jake - ” you sniffled, and he shook his head, cutting you off.

“You’re being fuckin’ hard on yourself right now, and you need to give yourself a break, darlin’. This isn’t a normal deployment, honey. You’re not gonna be pregnant every time we do this.”

“I-I think…” Hiccupping, you shook your head. “I…” You clapped a hand to your mouth to keep the words going through your head for the last few weeks from slipping out.

“Talk to me,” Jake pleaded. You felt so guilty, seeing his heartbroken expression as you cried over what was supposed to be a fun call.

“I don’t wanna ruin your Christmas.” Groaning, he glanced at his watch and shook his head.

“Christmas is officially over for me. Tell me what’s bothering you, sweetheart.”

“I think it’s finally hitting that I’m gonna have to do this alone.” Even as you watched Jake’s face fall, you couldn’t stop. “I’m so happy I came out to see you, but it felt like such a tease, and it was easier to get through this before I got to kiss you and have you be a part of the pregnancy.”

“Darlin’…” he sighed. You could see the hurt on his face, and it broke your heart. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, babe - I’m not… I’m not saying it right.” At that moment, you wanted nothing more than to bury your face in your husband’s neck and hide, to feel his strong arms around you. “I-I…it’s been a fucking rollercoaster,” you choked out. “I’m so, so happy I came out there - please don’t think I’m not,” you pleaded, resting a hand on your belly where Sloane was still. “B-but seeing you and then not being able to t-talk to you was really, really hard.”

“I know, darlin’. It’s been hard for me, too, so I can’t even imagine what it’s been like for you.” And your husband, who always seemed to know exactly what to say to make you feel better, was at a loss for words. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he repeated.

“At least it’s only for another month and a half, right?” you said, pasting on that fake smile he hadn’t seen in so long. Seeing what you were doing - trying to put him at ease - Jake only shook his head.

“At least there’s that.”

“Did you have a good Christmas?” His shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath, his green eyes piercing you through the screen.

“Darlin’, I’ll drop it for now, but we’re gonna have a serious conversation about this later, alright?”

“D-do we have to?” you asked in a quiet voice.

“Yes. Absolutely.” His firm tone disappeared at the sight of you wiping your face, lip wobbling again. “I love you, darlin’. I had a good Christmas. What about you? Have you opened presents yet?”

“Not yet.” Grasping the out like a lifeline, you forced your voice to be bright. “Wanted to talk to you first. But Mom and Dad went overboard, and there’s a ton of presents under the tree for Sloane. Wanna see?”

For the next twenty minutes, you spoke with Jake and took the laptop to the living room. You knew your parents clocked your reddened eyes but didn’t say anything as they caught up with their son-in-law. Jake watched you open a few presents for your daughter - mostly clothes - before saying his time was almost up and that he was heading to bed. Your parents had you sit on the couch and open one of the presents to both of you - a glass ornament that read ‘Our First Christmas’ and your wedding date on it. You put it front and center on the tree.

You stepped into the bedroom to say goodbye and tried to reassure him that you were okay. “I love you,” you sighed.

“I love you too, darlin’. So damn much.”

“I’m sorry if I upset you - ”

“I’m not upset. Not with you,” he cut you off. “We’re gonna talk about it later, but for now, I want you to enjoy your Christmas and send me pictures, alright?”

“Alright.” Your response was quiet, and he sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair.

“I just need you to be honest when something bothers you. I can’t fix it if I don’t know about it.”

“You can’t fix this, babe. You can’t come home early, and I can’t be there with you.”

“I know that,” he huffed before shaking his head again. “Later. I want you to enjoy today with your parents.”

“Okay. Merry Christmas, Jake. Sweet dreams.”

“Merry Christmas, darlin’. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” The smile he gave you was strained as he lifted his hand, and then the call disconnected.

Tears gathered in your eyes again, but you took a deep breath and forced them away. You’d already ruined Jake’s Christmas call, and the last thing you wanted to do was make it awkward for your parents. So, pasting on that fake smile again, you tucked the laptop under your arm and went back to the living room.

Javy lifted a hand and flagged you down at the arrivals. You’d offered to pick him up, as his flight landed shortly after your parents left to head back to Florida.

After tossing his bag into the trunk, he climbed into the car and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I hate traveling during the holidays,” he grumbled as you twisted to look over your shoulder to see if you could merge.

“It’s pretty horrible,” you agreed, easing into the flow of traffic. Once you were on the road, he filled you in on his trip, chuckling over stories about his nieces and nephews.

“Oh,” he said, voice suddenly serious. “You and I gotta have a conversation, too.”

“About what?” you asked, eyes flitting over to him. Did Jake say something to him about your meltdown? After getting a flower delivery the day after Christmas, a beautiful bouquet of white and lavender flowers, you’d had a heart-to-heart with your husband about how anxious you were about going into the final few weeks of your pregnancy.

You’d officially hit 33 weeks pregnant. And, while you were happy that Sloane had officially shifted into the head-down position, her frequent kicks to your rib weren’t welcomed - especially when you were dealing with shortness of breath. Not to mention that sticky notes ran your life because you’d started forgetting things. Dr. Shearer had promised you that pregnancy brain was common and talked you through tips for dealing with it, but as someone who prided themselves on attention to detail, it was a tough pill to swallow.

It didn’t help that the website you read for advice suggested leaning on your partner to help manage the mental load.

The only benefit of the visit had been listening to Sloane’s heartbeat, which you had recorded and sent to Jake. He’d been doing his best to check in more often, texting and calling whenever possible. And the idea of him looping Javy into that was mortifying.

“You and I gotta make a plan for what happens when this one comes,” he said, motioning to your stomach.

“What?”

“Yeah. I told Mama that I was gonna be a godfather, and she knows Hangman’s deployed. So she was asking me who was gonna get you to the hospital. I told her it’d probably be me,” he shrugged, a self-conscious expression on his face, “and she and my sisters got on me about making sure I knew the fastest route and timing contractions. So yeah, we gotta make a plan so I can get them off my back.”

“Oh,” you said, swallowing around the lump in your throat. You hadn’t thought too much about your plan to get to the hospital. Your parents had assured you that they would be on the first plane out as soon as you said you were in labor. “I…w-we can do that. My doctor suggested some classes to get ready for the birth, so I figured I would just go to those.”

“Great. Lemme know when they are, and I’ll see if I can get the time off.” Thankfully, you were at a red light and didn’t slam on the breaks.

“What?”

“You want to go to birthing classes?”

“I mean,” he shrugged, an awkward smile crossing his mouth. “I figured I’d stay with you until your parents got there. Unless you want someone else. Maybe Phoenix?”

“Javy,” you croaked, tears gathering in your eyes. “Are you serious?”

“Don’t worry about it - it was a stupid thought. I’ll get you to the hospital and sit in the waiting room. You can just text if you - ”

“Send me a text, and I’ll send you the class schedule. I’ll forget otherwise.” A second later, your phone chimed with an alert, and you saw that he’d sent you the reminder. “You and Jake are gonna have to compare notes. He’s taking a first-time fatherhood class online.”

“Good. Now that the exercise is done, he’ll have more free time and can do that instead of harassing the other pilots about their shitty flying during the sorties.”

“That sounds like my husband,” you sighed.

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

Author's Note: Apologies for the delay in getting this out - writer's block hit hard. This wasn't originally supposed to be so angsty, but Darlin's been holding back a lot to make sure that Jake can focus on work, and it kind of spilled out. But how freaking awesome is Godfather Coyote? Oh, and I based the exercise off this one.

Thank you to @dizzybee03 for the nudge I needed to finish this chapter today!

(If you missed it, I also posted a slightly spoiler-y blurb about D-Day earlier today. All head canons/blurbs are posted on the Masterlist.)

If you would like to be added to the tag list, please fill out my tag form here.

Tag list:

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@kmc1989

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#hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #top gun fic #top gun maverick #jake seresin #Hangman top gun #soft!Jake Seresin #hangman smut #hangman fic #D-Day fic #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman imagine

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szlez · 2 months ago

Text

Branded

24th one for Suptober 2024 Remixed by @wigglebox and @thepagemistress based on Suptober by @winchester-reload.

Prompt 24. Branded

After watching people draw all my ideas for Branded prompt much better than I would (that's what happens when you're lazy and don't post on time 😜) I finally came up with this one. Hope you'll like it.

My other arts for the event:

Prompt 1. Autumn, Prompt 2. Spa Day, Prompt 3. Royalty, Prompt 4. Birthday, Prompt 5. Scars, Prompt 6. Electric, Prompt 7. Thankful, Prompt 8. Witch’s Brew, Prompt 9. Moon, Prompt 10. Mushrooms, Prompt 11. Myth, Prompt 12. Harvest Festival, Prompt 13. Monster Mash, Prompt 14. Fave Episode, Prompt 15. Sigils, Prompt 16. Falling, Prompt 17. Wings, Prompt 18. Family Business, Prompt 19. Dark & Stormy Night, Prompt 20. Limbo, Prompt 21. Cozy Treats, Prompt 22. Ladies, Prompt 23. Fever.

Taglist.

Pls DM me if you want to be added to tag list or removed from it.

@aniona29, @denimshortsdean, @dotti55, @famouskidangel, @malicmalic, @squirrelsarecool, @writteninthestarsinyoureyes .

#suptober24 #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural fanart #suptober #my art #spn fanart #suptober 2024 #mark of cain #demon!dean #artists on tumblr #illustration #digital art

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adventures-in-the-mad-forest · 2 months ago

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Voice Acting Volunteer Info

Taglist: @canvas-the-florist @awkwardqueercreature @bananaconda33 @prince-rowan-of-the-forest @bluebellieart

@dewberrybramble @strange-destinations @thewickedcompanion @duck-in-a-spaceship @kitkat4406

@general-kalani @astrowillscreamintothevoid

Kofi blog post (All the same information is located under the read more).

Please ensure that you read and understand this before signing up! If you have any questions, please ask!

Summary of the Podcast:

It's about Glacie, and their coworkers, who work at the Meeting Point. The Meeting Point is a restaurant/shop located near the Mad Forest. Coming back from a pretty long break, due to their own unreality problems popping up, Glacie is warned that the forest grows hungry. After some incidents, Glacie's hallucinations start getting real bad, and they eventually venture forth into the Mad Forest.

Content Warnings of this Podcast Include (but are not limited to):

Unreality

Ableism

Pain

Blood

Implied Death

Podcast Genre

Modern-ish (emphasis on the ish) fantasy horror/action

Some things to note:

This is Volunteer Work, while I will be doing my best to pay you all, I can not promise that this will happen.

You Must Be 18+ to Volunteer to Voice Act (Mainly due to the workload)

You do not need prior Voice Acting work to throw your hat in the ring! That is not going to be a factor in the form or a question I ask in the Zoom meeting

The form that goes out today is to schedule a Zoom Meeting where you’ll do your audition then on the characters that you selected that you want to attempt to Voice Act. You can try for multiple characters, and say how many you’d like to Voice Act for (maximum of 3 characters). Fill out the days and times you are generally available. We can schedule a specific date based on schedules two weeks before the meeting. (It is important to note that the form times are in MST, as I live in Arizona in the United States. That is UTC -7. Please convert to your time zone before saying you’re available.)

I’m going to state this again so it’s not too buried: Zoom meetings are when auditions will be held, I’ll be starting to schedule those in November and December, at least 2 weeks ahead of when I first email you!

One social media is required for me to credit you in the podcast officially! You may have up to three, (this is mainly so that intros aren’t too long). Yes, I will be annoying about this.

You may only work up to 20 hours per week on Voice Acting. Including practice and breaks of less than 1 hour. This is to ensure that, if money is made, I can pay you back for your time fairly without you overworking yourself for essentially no pay if no money is made from this.

Speaking of Making Money off of this

How am I attempting to do that? You’d be right to ask. Currently, early versions of the unedited script are available for early viewing for $6 each, and a bundle is available for $35 total. Only the first episode is free in the unedited version so that those who are unsure of their interest can find out if it’s their cup of tea or not! These are also currently on a 25% sale, as I'm about to get the edited script going up for early access within the next few days.

With the edited version, the first two episodes will be free for early viewing (since most of the main characters show up by that episode it will give a better idea of who they are), however the rest will be priced at $12/episode with a bundle available for $60.

95% of those funds will be going to back paying volunteers for this project. 5% will be for extra fees that may arise as we get further into the process of recording, editing, and uploading. (This is after Stripe takes out their fee).

There are also memberships available for anyone interested in supporting the podcast!

I also sell my own art on the side and will be opening up commissions! For these I will be putting 75% of the funds into payment, with the other 25% (after the stripe fee) going towards making more art.

Not only that, but after Voice Actors are picked, I will start building a kickstarter for the project that is planned to release in May or June. This is to give us time to record 1 or 2 episodes to share bloopers and behind the scenes with backers. As the max amount of time a kickstarter can be up is 60 days, I will be doing a lot of advertising for it when the time comes on different blogs. While I would recommend you share the kickstarter on different social medias too, it’s not a requirement. And it’s something I will be discussing in more depth with the podcast team.

How Will I Pay You if the podcast makes money?

If you have a kofi, I will be leaving some generous tips! If not, any app that takes card as payment (without me having to make an account) will do! I am not doing checks, as this is open to volunteers from around the world who speak english, and even if it was just the US, I’m scared that they might get lost in the mail!

If you don’t have a place I can pay you with a debit card, please be willing to find a way to do that before you fill out the form.

I am willing to teach you how to set up a kofi if you need help with that!

You will be paid back at $15USD/hour if this podcast starts making money

Again, this is not guaranteed! Voice Acting will be considered Volunteer Work unless money is made!

Now let’s get into the Available Characters for Season 1

Main Characters:

Cameron - She/her, Cis, lesbian, works at the Meeting Point. Cameron is wonderful, she’s independent, but terrified of being alone. She’s sassy and protective, but she’d do anything for her friends.

Shaun - He/him Cishet, coolest straight guy you’ll ever meet. Gives everyone nicknames, even if they don’t stick. Doesn’t like being serious without room for whimsy, he enjoys having fun. Honestly, he’s just a silly guy.

Dwayne - He/him, transmasc, pansexual, aromantic. Single dad of two (Laila and Deon). Is doing his best to provide for his kids and give them the best life they can possibly have. Ms. Lemona is his babysitter, both of them feeling as if they owe the other for the help they provide each other.Priority for this role is for someone who is black and transmasc

Gerry - He/him, Cis, aroace. 19 years old, youngest member of the Meeting Point. He’s just been hired to work there and is finding his place, is closest with Dwayne at this point. Has a habit of calling Glacie boss for some reason (no he is not being forced to.)Priority for this role is for someone who is brown.

Side Characters:

Delmena - She/her, Cishet. Widow. She’s an older woman who uses a wheelchair. While she’s outfitted her house to be more accessible to her, the outside world isn’t as put together. This is why she hired Carmelita, a helper who lives with her but is mainly asked to do anything that requires going outside and dealing with jutting sidewalk, no pavement, things like that. While Delmena will go with her most times, sometimes she enjoys staying at home and doing things herself.

Carmelita - She/her, Transfem, Lesbian. Works as Delmena’s stay at home caregiver, while Delmena doesn’t need her most of the time, both of them provide wonderful company for each other. She recently (ish) moved to the area, after struggling to find a job in the bigger town of Campeal. Priority for this role is for someone who is Hispanic/Latina and transfem

Haeyl - She/her, Transfem, Straight. Shaun’s dogsitter, pretty mysterious. But she has a right to be. Wonderful to be around, Mellon (the dog) loves her, and she loves dogsitting for Mellon.Priority for this role is for someone who is black and transfem.

Laila - 8 years old, she/her. Dwayne’s daughter, and eldest child. She’s loves to tease her brother, and take his toys as she’s taller than him (she gives them back, she just likes to frustrate her brother). Really interested in dragons and magic, one of which she’s told doesn’t exist; the other one she hasn’t gotten a clear answer on.Priority for this role is someone who is black.

Deon - 6 years old, he/him. Enjoys trains and magnets, and is also interested in magic. Is tired of Laila stealing his toys and keeping them from him. Has a habit of accidentally leaving toys out on the floor, which caused the incident that happened to keep Dwayne from being in the first episode of the season.Priority for this role is for someone who is black.

Ms. Lemona - She/her, transfem, Laila and Deon’s babysitter as Dwayne works at the Meeting Point to provide for them. She enjoys watching these kids, and teaching them new things, even astounding them with the creations she makes. She’s a woodworker, and knows some basics on how to make some more mechanical bits and bobs.Priority for this role is for someone who is black.

Other Characters:

Glacie’s Guide - A hallucination of sorts, not much is known about it, but it claims in the beginning of Season 2 to be there to help Glacie navigate through the forest. (Although whether that is true or not remains to be seen).

Various Background Characters

This includes customers at the Meeting Point as well as, random chatter that is unintelligible in certain parts of the episode.

Audition Information

I have chosen lines for each character that I believe gives a good view of who they are!

See this google doc for those:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/19LNLDZgUOYPCCF6i8nH2iQrXe5UXK-S_nJGmqJ-Hzvc/edit?usp=sharing

If you'd like access to the full script before viewing, DM me on tumblr!

Forms open today, and I will begin scheduling auditions as early as Early November/Early December! As auditions happen, I will begin casting in Late December/Early January, because of this, if there’s someone you’d like to play I suggest getting the form in early. I will Not recast a part unless someone drops out so do not ask! As people are cast, I will be editing the form to reflect this.

How does casting work?

I will be attempting to schedule zoom meetings to cast specific characters on specific days. After the last zoom meeting for a character is done, and there are no scheduled zoom meetings for this character for a week, I will contact the person who got the role and give them the link to the discord server with information on what role they got. Then I will be removing said role from the form. This will continue until all roles have been filled.

I will also be contacting those who didn’t get the role to let them know that they didn’t get the role.

I would recommend, trying out as many roles as you’re interested in! While you can be cast for multiple roles, depending on how many people audition, roles will be 1 per person with the exception of background roles.

The various background roles will have between 2-5 people voicing those characters, and due to the amount of lines, only count as 1 extra role!

Joining the discord server is mandatory for Voice Actors! This is because I have things set up to record in the discord server itself.

Any questions? Feel free to ask!

Voice Acting Volunteer Scheduling and Sign Up Form:

#adventures in the mad forest #podcast #glacier bubbles #my podcast #aitmf #voice actors

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melefim · 4 months ago

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Swearing in Dead Boy Detectives: Fuck

Overview:

Fuck was said a total of 90 times, in all 8 episodes and by 15 different characters.

Uses Per Episode:

Fuck is said in all 8 episodes of the show, one of only 4 words to do so.

Episode 1: 7

Episode 2: 5

Episode 3: 13

Episode 4: 5

Episode 5: 8

Episode 6: 13

Episode 7: 16

Episode 8: 23

Uses Per Character:

Fuck is said by 15 different characters, more than any other word.

Edwin: 2

Charles: 5

Crystal: 20

Jenny: 18

David: 12

Esther: 6

The Cat King: 6

Tabby Cat: 2

Calico Cat: 1

Litty: 8

Kingham: 5

Brad: 2

Hunter: 1

Twitchy Richie: 1

Girl in Crystal’s Memory 2 (Club Fight): 1

Percent of Total:

Fuck is used 90 times, which is 27.9% of cursing in the show.

Variations:

There are 7 variations of the word used in the show, with the most popular being Fuck, which was used 42 times.

Fuck: 42

Fucking: 37

Fucked-up: 7

Fucked: 1

Fucker: 1

Fuckboy: 1

Mindfuck: 1

Rankings:

Total Uses: Fuck comes in first for total uses, being said 90 times.

Number of Episodes: Fuck is one of only four curse words that is said in all 8 episodes- the others are Shit, Ass, and God.

Most Uses of a Word in a Single Episide: Fuck holds 5 of the top 11 spots.

Most Uses of a Word by a Single Character in One Episode: Fuck took the title here as well, being said 10 times by Jenny in episode 8.

Total Characters: Fuck comes in first for number of characters to say it, with 15 using it throughout the show.

It is one of only two words said by the main trio of Edwin, Charles, and Crystal, the other being Damn.

It is one of only four words said by both Edwin and Charles—the others being Damn, Bloody, and Bloody Hell.

Favorite Word: Fuck is the favorite word of 7 different characters: Jenny (18), David (12), Litty (8), The Cat King (6), Kingham (5), Tabby Cat (2), and Brad (2).

Curse Word Variations: It comes in first for most variations, with 7.

Lines:

Episode 1:

Charles: Edwin, hurry the fuck up!

David: I'll fucking gut you! (x2 while possessing Crystal)

Crystal: It's just a stupid fucking name.

Tabby Cat: Fuck you. I'm not telling you nothing about that house or the witch inside.

Crystal: So maybe he's our fucking demon now!

Edwin: Police don't know what to do with a fucking witch!

Episode 2:

Litty: Little ghost fucker!

Litty: I'm gonna tell you something, because I think you really need to hear it, okay? You should go fuck yourself.

Litty: You know what? You can take that sweater and you can shove it up your ass. Do you have any clue how powerful we are? We are fucking gods!

Kingham: You better hope we never get out of here or we are going to fuck you up, like 'brass knuckles and mace' fuck you up!

Episode 3:

Jenny: It's a super fucked-up story so I'm gonna need some coffee

Crystal: What the actual fuck?

Calico Cat: At least we don't have to go inside. This house is fucked up.

Crystal: Just what the fuck is it?

Litty: Looks like they left you behind because you fucking suck.

Litty: They're all gonna fucking die.

Litty: We were fucking kidding, can't you take a fucking joke?

Litty: Stupid fucking bitch!

Charles: I'm just sick of watching this asshole kill his family a million times for no fucking reason. Tried it your way, and it did nothing. Sod it. Let's try mine. (x2 due to time loop)

Charles: His dad was bad, Edwin. Royally fucked-up bad.

Crystal: I am done wasting my energy on your fuckboy bullshit.

Episode 4:

Jenny: Ok, so you're what? You're just, you're not gonna leave until I explain this even though it's private and go the fuck away?

Tabby Cat: Fuck off. The kid had a sardine.

Crystal: You fucked with my head, I'm gonna fuck with yours.

Charles: Every day, I'm fucking smiling.

Episode 5:

Twitchy Richie: The fuck is this?

Jenny: Oh my fuck.

Crystal: You walk around acting like the sun always shines, and then you lost your shit while beating the Night Nurse. Edwin and I are walking on eggshells around you instead of just saying 'what the actual fuck?'

Jenny: What the fuck, Maxine?

Hunter: Oh, fuck that, you whiny little bitch.

Brad: It's a fucking tragedy that we died, okay?

Brad: What the fuck does that mean?

David: I'm a demon! And I always get what I fucking want!

Episode 6:

Crystal: I want to keep this demon the fuck out.

Jenny: Just like whatever the fuck I am doing is none of yours.

Crystal: It's like he's fucking haunting me.

David: Oh no, I'm so fucking scared.

Charles: Don't listen to him Crystal, it's just some sort of a mindfuck, innit?

David: Why the fuck do you smell so weak?

David: What the fuck did you do?

Crystal: I gave up my powers, OK? I got you out of my fucking head.

David: Now, she's just another fucking terrified lump of human flesh!

Crystal: I am nothing special, So why don't you just leave me the fuck alone?

David: Did you really think that you could beat me with a fucking cricket bat?

The Cat King: Do you hear me? I will stop fucking playing nice!

Esther: Teeth Face, what the fuck?

Episode 7:

The Cat King: Why the fuck are you here?

Esther: I know you blew up Monty's spot, you little fucking snitch.

The Cat King: I don't give a fuck, OK? End of audience.

The Cat King: That was my third life, you bitch. I only get nine. Would you fuck off? Fuck!

Crystal: Fucking bullshit, like I can't help.

Crystal: God, that's fucking insane.

Jenny: Fucking kid.

Jenny: What the fuck?

David: Why the fuck would you even want that?

David: What the fuck did you do? Where are we?

David: Maybe I was just fucking with you.

David: Fuck! Fine, you got your memories back.

Jenny: What the fuck was that?

Esther: You, you.. you think that you're the only one who's ever been screwed over? You're not. I fucking deserve this!

Edwin: That is so fucking stupid, It's unbelievable!

Episode 8:

Girl in Crystal’s Memory 2 (Club Fight): Get your fucking hands off my boyfriend, you slut!

Crystal: Oh, my God. Oh, I'm a fucking awful person. Oh, God, I'm the worst.

Jenny: What the actual fuck?

Jenny: And why the ever-loving fuck is my hair braided?

Jenny: Fuck that! That is bullshit!

Jenny: No fucking way.

Kingham: "No fucking way" to you. "No fucking way" to that side braid. What the fuck is that?

Jenny: Fucking fuck!

Jenny: Screw it. I'd rather know my own life, no matter how fucked-up.

Jenny: Jesus, fuck!

Crystal: Fuck! (Esther has the boys)

Jenny: I figure a meat cleaver can cut up a witch, but what the fuck do I know anymore?

Crystal: Because whatever fucked-up little thing you have going on with Edwin, you must care about him a little.

The Cat King: Fuck me. Did you even listen to my story?

Esther: Oh my God, my own sacrificial knife? I'm impressed. But I'm not fucking around that you're also gonna patch that wall before you die too.

Esther: Who the fuck are you?

Esther: What the fuck? Hey hey hey no! What did you just do?

Jenny: God, that sounds so fucking procedural.

Crystal: I don't have to give up my new fucked-up life while I'm trying to sort out my old fucked-up life.

Notes:

Not included:

In episode 1, Crystal flips off Edwin in the malt shop.

In episode 2, Litty flips off Charles, Edwin, and Crystal with both hands, and then later Kingham and Litty both flip off Edwin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

More Dead Boy Detectives Swearing Posts:

Masterlist

Swearing by Episode

Swearing by Character

Swearing by Word

All Swearing Posts

And if you like lists of things like I do, you can check out my other Dead Boy Detectives ones here!

When Charles’ Shirt Colors Change

George Rextrew’s Edwin comic inspo board

Full soundtrack with timestamps

Moves, Incidents, and Cases Masterlist

First pass at finding where the songs in the score are used- full post with timestamps in progress

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swtsupernatural · 20 days ago

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D&S W. || NEVER ENOUGH

Dean & Sam Winchester & Winchester! Middle-Sibling! Gender Neutral! Reader

Content Warning Takes place after John's death, no specific episode, just soon after. Swearing, dealing with John's death & grieving, reader throws up once, use of knives and guns, mentions of demons, dean being unable to communicate his feelings

Summary Angst !!! hurt/comfort for reader - Dad died, and all you could think about was how he died not even liking his middle child. You.

W.C. 2.2 k

Ask anon : Could you do something with the Winchester brothers and a Winchester reader? Where the reader is the middle child and is the forgotten one of the family. The reader feels kind of useless compared to Sam and Dean.

Playlist: ♫ I Love You So - The Walters, Better Than Me - The Brobecks, I Know the End - Phoebe Bridgers

A.N. first platonic winchester reader fic ! wrote this sooo fast lol (I think I was projecting even though I'm the oldest child) also I had to include my fav chaotic old man duo in this one...enjoy! - claire <3

Dad was dead. It hadn't been too long since he left, but fuck. He was dead and all you could think of was how much of a shit child you were. You tried your entire life to prove yourself to your dad; but you weren’t Dean; you didn’t follow him blindly, listen to his every order, pick up on hunting skills like it was playing cards. And you weren’t Sam; you weren't booksmart, you didn't have a touch for understanding, and you weren’t as defiant. Yet, it still seems like your whole life that you were your dad’s least favorite. Now you didn’t have Dad, and you felt sick to your stomach that you were almost relieved. It was like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders and another one had been placed in your stomach. Your own father had died and you were relieved. No wonder you were the least favorite.

When you were younger, you’d been more like Sam. Dean was Dad;s pupil, and to you both it didn’t matter who was second because you were both not your older brother. You’d move to a random small town school,get picked on like Sam did, Dean told you he’d beat them up for you, and then you moved again. Every now and then shit would go down and you’d spend some nights at Bobby’s — and it repeated all over again. Then, Sam had graduated highschool and left you and Dean for Stanford. You and Dean never went into upper education, it hadn’t really crossed either of your minds. Sam was 18, you were 20, and Dean was 22. You’d been out of school for a bit, trying desperately to keep up with Dean and Dad, you were just never as good. You didn’t know anything else, and couldn’t see yourself doing well in any other ‘profession,’ if you could even call it that. A couple weeks after Sam left, you were digging through the trash like a damn raccoon looking for a note cliping you’d accidentally thrown away with some crucial information about your current hunt. You found the sticky note, but it had latched onto a thick, white piece of paper. It was a job application. It was Dean’s. You nearly cried, he wanted to be a firefighter. You were so emotional because you know he totally could; he’d be wonderful at it. But he’d never leave the hunting life, especially not after Sam had “abandoned Dad and us,” as he put it. The heat of the fire brought you back to the stupid forest you’d bought Dad’s body to. The fire was warm, but still not comforting in the slightest despite the chipping cold. Your cheeks were pink, and you could feel your eyes starting to water. This was it.

You began walking with your head down in the opposite direction of the Impala.

“Where the hell are you going?” Dean’s voice was gruff, his own head and heart in turmoil, showing in his wavering voice. He never sounded like that. It was so uncharacteristic and gazing up at their faces made you sick. They were lit up warm from the fire, both of their green eyes shining, frowns and dirt on their faces. You doubled over by a tree, placing your hand on the tough bark as you threw up your breakfast on the dewy grass. You heard Sam sigh, the thick, uncut grass rusting, a hand coming to your back as he pushed the hair from your face. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes told you everything. He knew more about your struggle with Dad than Dean did. Sam had always been easier to talk to. That’s why you wanted him to leave.

“Sam,” you whispered after wiping your face, “you need to go back to school, dude.” Sam looked down sheepishly.

“Y/N, cmon, you know I was there on scholarship, I–

“And you were also the best in your program, Sam. Dad’s gone. Go back, go make something of your life, please.”

“And what will you do? Keep hunting?”

“What the fuck else am I supposed to do? I’m not good at anything else, Sam! Hell, I’m not even that good a hunter. I’m half the reason he left to go on that stupid hunt in the first place.”

“Don’t start with that, Y/N.”

“I know it, you know it, and Dean knows it. Just…I need to be alone.”

“No, you don’t.” Dean’s voice came from your left, walking up at a quick pace with his hands in his jacket pockets.

“You don’t get it.” You whispered, and they just heard your small voice.

“What’s there to get?” Dean huffed, shaking his head.

“Dean, knock it off,” Sam muttered.

“What you don’t get, is that Dad never fucking liked me while like he liked you both. And Sam, don’t act like he resents you for leaving or something. He stayed up sighing and reading all those student aid and college billing bullshit because he knew you could do it. And Dean, he always taught you so much more than me because you actually got hunting like he did and knew what you were doing. I was never good at either. I wish I was the one burning in that fucki—

Dean grabbed your shoulders and pushed you against the tree.

“Can you shut up about yourself for two damn seconds when we're at Dad’s funeral? I don’t need you crying about him being a dick when he’s dead. He had funny ways of showing it, but he loved you, Y/N.”

“No he didn’t,” You shoved him off of you, shoving your hands in your coat and huffing out steamy air as you returned to the car. Your brother’s followed you, but you were already lifting the trunk and grabbing your duffle bag.

“Bye. See ya around.”

“Dean, let them go,” Sam grabbed his arm, stopping his brother from getting to you. “Even I know Dad was always a dick to them.

“C’mon, dude, give ‘em a break, just for now. We’ll call them in a couple days, it’ll be fine.” Dean shook Sam off of him, opening his car door and slamming it aggressively. Sam sighed, getting in the car and watching the black smoke in the rearview mirror flying up into the sky. __________________________________________

It had been four weeks. Four weeks, two cases solved, 11 missed phone calls from Sam, 6 from Dean, and now you were cornered in a damn demon’s trap. It was 5 against 1, but that didn’t change how useless you felt. You were never as good of a fighter as Sam or Dean, you weren’t as obnoxiously tall or particularly strong. You always felt useless as a child, as a sibling, as a hunter, and as yourself. Of course this would be how you died.

You were at the point of just giving in and calling it quits on your life when a booming BANG rang out. From behind you, two more shots rang out, knives slashing. You didn’t question it, you just acted. You managed to corner the last demon, grabbing his head from behind and shoving your knife in his throat, killing it. You focused your eyes up and saw the last person you were thinking about. But boy, were you glad to see him.

“Bobby?” He crushed you in a big hug, gun in one hand and a first aid bag in the other.

“Heard’a some weird stuff in this town, deaths and weird figures, figured it was demons. But, when Rufus and I went into the local police office as P.I.s, they said someone with your description already came by,” He grumbled.

“You know how stupid it is to go on a hunt alone when you're young, kid?” Rufus spoke, as his way of greeting you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder in a half-hug. “That’s why I always drag this old man with me in case shit goes down. So I can throw him in the storm and buy myself some time to run.” Bobby rolled his eyes at Rufus’ sarcastic words, and led you both out of the building.

“Why aren’t you with the boys, Y/N?” You sighed, running a dirty hand through your hair.

“You uh…heard about Dad?” Bobby stopped the tread to his old car, turning and peered at you with dark eyes.

“I did. Don’t worry, m’not gonna hit you with all that “I’m sorry, woe is you” crap you hate.” You huffed, smiling at Bobby, “But, I am gonna tell ya you always have a place to stay, kiddo.”

“Thank you.”

He looked at you expectedly, his head tilting towards you, “...So?”

“I left them after the funeral. I was just…having a hard time, Bobby.” You muttered, sitting in the back seat like a little kid.

“I know, kiddo. How’s about you come to my place and get yourself straight, hm?” You nodded, and Bobby watched you through the rear view mirror hanging above him. Your hair was greasy and the bags under your eyes almost purple. This had been fucking you up a lot.

Bobby got out and opened the trunk, rearranging things while Rufus opened the garage to grab salt, bullets, and gear to restock after your predicament. He tossed you his keys and you caught them with a jingle. You shoved them in the door and finally turned the janky lock, pushing it open. You froze.

Sam and Dean were sitting on the couch. The second you sighed and stepped inside, Dean shot up from his seat rushing towards you, wrapping you in a far too tight hug. He pulled away, his lips in a straight line as he lightly smacked you upside the head.

“You scared the shit out of us, dumbass.”

“Great to see you, too.”

“Where were you?”

You shrugged, moving past Dean to Bobby’s cramped, warm, familiar living room.

“I was on the road…hitchhiking, looking into cases, all that.” “I’m gonna refrain from telling you how dangerous that is and opt for a hug,” Sam grumbled as he wrapped his long arms around you.

“Why are you here?” You asked, settling down on the couch like no time had passed at all since you last saw them. Sam began to speak up, but Dean cut him off and Sam stared at him sternly.

“Cause we couldn’t find you and you weren’t answering us, and Bobby said he found you on a hunt near his place. We got here right before you guys. Y/N you had us fucking worried.”

“I’m sorry. I needed some time alone. I…love you guys. But being around you after Dad, it just reminds me that I’ll never be good enough for him. He’s dead and all I can think about is how he died not even liking me. I’ll never be like either of you.”

Sam laughed; he actually laughed out loud. “Like me? Are we talking about the same people? Cause I see visions of people dying, Y/N. I dropped out of college and can’t do anything right in anyone’s eyes, not just Dad’s.”

“That's not true, Sam…” He sat down next to you on the couch, his knees turned towards you, his eyes dark and watchful. Dean mumbled something about getting you all drinks and disappeared into the kitchen, sensing a touchy conversion he'd rather not be a part of just yet.

“And Dean,” Sam continued, “Dean would rather die than open up to anyone, even either of us, and he can’t function if he’s not drinking, hooking up with some random girl, or drinking. Which is why he’s getting us drinks right now. If anything, you’re the one I’d rather be like. I know Dean would too.” You rolled your eyes pointedly, like Sam was talking nonsense. He moved his head to find your eyes, tilting his head towards you with that face he made that would always stop you from talking. “Y’know, you’re so good at reading us and we didn’t even realise until you were gone. Honestly, Dean and I have never fought that much. And you’re always good at talking with the vics and feds, way better than me or Dean, I–

“Can we end the girly-crap convo now, please?” Dean handed each of you a beer, throwing his back the second he sat down, drinking way too much in one sip.

“Sorry we have feelings, Dean. In case you forgot; most people have those.”

“Yea, yea. Listen,” he turned to you after he groaned, trying to look sincere, well, as sincere as Dean could look.

“You’re probably the least fucked up one in our freak family, Y/N, so quit it, alright? Sammy and I…we love ya.” He threw his hand that wasn’t clutching his drink up in a surrender. “That good? Can we please drink now and head to our next stop with a hangover in the morning?”

You chuckled, clink-ing your drink with your brothers, and nodding to Dean. He smiled silently, thankful you were back. He hadn’t realized how much you kept the peace and sanity between the three of you. He really missed you.

“There better be two of those left, idjits,” Bobby grumbled, Rufus on his tail as they went into the kitchen grabbing a bottle each. They sat opposite of you all on the other couch and you held up your bottle.

“Cheers. To being a weird, fucked up family.”

“Cheers!” Sam gave you a tight lipped, sweet smile. “Cheers to that,” Dean finished the rest of his drink, throwing his head back.

“You kids are gonna kill me,” Bobby muttered.

#supernatural fanfiction #supernatural angst #supernatural #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #castiel #winchester reader #winchester reader platonic #sam winchester x reader platonic #dean winchester x reader platonic #john winchester #bobby singer #dean and sam and reader #dean and sam/reader #supernatural fandom #the winchester brothers

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carolmunson · 1 year ago

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agitated from the shadows, can i take it all back? (older!modern!eddie)

part seven of however many. orange colored sky set list summary: things simmer in the summer, and as it comes closer to a close, whatever is lying beneath comes to the surface. and it's more than eddie bargained for.

tw: 18+ minors dni. this series is about an age gap relationship (reader is in late 20s/early 30s, eddie is in late 30s early 40s. they're around 12 years apart), arguing/yelling, references to drug use, references to smut, references to domestic violence. songspiration: episode | gallant (this is one of my favorite songs of all time so i recommend listening)

Eddie was always a little sad when Steve left after visiting, but his heart was beating fast in his chest when he hugged him goodbye. Getting Harrington's seal of approval was all he needed to hear. "Keep her around Munson. She's special, you're not gonna top her." "Oh Steve, my guy..." "I'm topping her all the time."

He couln't help the swell in his chest when you both first met, like you'd known each other for years without trying. He even got a little jealous when the night's you'd stayed over, Steve would spend his time deep in conversation with you. You'd trudge upstairs long after Ed had gone to sleep, learning more about him through Steve than he'd told you himself. You guess Steve would know better than anyone else.

You tried to make yourself scarce though, leaving them to their own devices. You knew they had traditions and plans, they spent a couple days out in the Hamptons to say high to another friend. And that was fine, you had other things to catch up on. Work, bills, the world around you that wasn't in a haze of Eddie Munson. You had to cancel a night to see him play at Rockwood Music Hall with Steve when you were too hung over from a birthday party. You hadn't seen that group of friends since college -- it would be stupid to sit at home just because the guy you were seeing was busy. He wasn't even your boyfriend. After a fortnight of semi seeing each other for finally had a night alone. He treated you to drinks at a bar between your respective places. The night was humid, air thick while you both sat otuside sipping your final glasses of wine and stealing bites off each other's plates. You decide to walk back to his place, following the walkway next to the bypass through central Brooklyn. You split a cigarette, talking about the rest of his trip -- you talk about work and the dramatic break up of two of your friends. He lives for the gossip.

He lights another cigarette while you both turn down the top of the street from the parkway. Right at the rotary where you both got caught in the rain on your first date. The street is pretty bare outside of a few cars coming down and around, families normally don't like to hang out too late. All the restauarants were closed for the night. The orangey streetlights glow over the sidewalk, competing with the lighting from the grocery store's red and blue signage, the neons from darkened bakeries and bars. You peer into the windows of apartments that are too high above you for anything discernable outside of a plant or nice light fixture.

"Oh," he starts, letting the smoke out from his first drag, "How was your friend's party? All I heard about was your hang over."

You smile to yourself, "It was fun, got a little too fucked up -- which you heard all about -- but I had a good time. Probably shouldn't have gotten so drunk and then tried coke for funsies -- that was a choice."

"Hm?" he asks, his brows raise while his head turns towards you fast, "What was that?"

"Oh, I didn't tell you? Yeah, I tried coke," your voice is casual when you tell him, like it's not a big deal. You shrug and your nose scrunches, "Probably don't see myself doing it again though."

"Probably don't?" he asks, nodding slowly while you both make your way further down the street to his apartment. He pulls another drag, letting the smoke out before tucking his lips into his teeth.

"Yeah I just -- I dunno," you shrug, "Didn't really love it. It was whatever."

"Y'shouldn't be doin' that shit, peach," he mumbles, "'Specially if I'm not around."

Your brows quirk when he flicks the finished cigarette into the street, "Excuse me?"

"Just..." he sighs, eyes rolling while he considers whether it's worth the fight, "Forget it. S'fine." You're both silent while you make it up the stairs to his apartment, he seems unenthusiastic about you being here this time around. Deflated. You both kick off your shoes at the doorway before heading inside, putting your bag on the entry way table behind the bowl where he puts his keys and wallet. He pulls off his shirt while making his way to the metal spiral staircase, not even tossing you a glance while he heads upstairs. "You comin' back down?" you ask, wondering if you should follow. "Mhm," he nods, "Just changin', gonna shower."

"Can I..." but you trail off, not wanting to invite yourself -- uncomfortable in the silence. In the way he doesn't look at you, in the way he feels far away. The sound of the bathroom door closing puts a weight in your belly, your heart thrums, heat rises on the back of your neck. You settle in on the couch, the steady hum from the central air makes your eyelids heavy -- it was already a late night. You scroll on your phone, listening while the water hits the shower floor up stairs, wishing he'd invited you up. You feel sticky from the heat outside, from the bar air, from the beer someone spilled on your legs. Maybe you should just go. He appears at the top of the stairs when you open the Uber app, clearing his throat to get your attention. He's there in his sweats again, shirtless, tattoos shining under a layer of lotion rubbed into his skin. He tied his hair up, curly wet bun sloppily piled on top of his head, bangs fuzzily drying over his forehead.

"You can hop in if you want," he says, making his way down, "I left a towel by the sink for you. I um, I got that facewash you like -- that one you told me about. It's in the shower already, next to your loofah."

"Oh," your heart flutters a little, voice still meek and quiet. He still doesn't look at you. You exit the app, clicking your phone to sleep before standing up to make it to the stairs, "Thanks...thank you." He shrugs his shoulders when he looks over at you as if to say 'don't mention it'. He barely looks at you when you head up stairs, busying himself by filling up a silver REI canteen by the sink.

He did leave a towel, as well as a change of clothes. At least you knew he wanted you to spend the night. It's not like he'd let you leave the house this late anyway, you roll your eyes at yourself when you think about booking an Uber moments before.

You take your time, letting the hot water pour over you and calm your tense shoulders. Washing away the stickiness in your chest and on your skin. You scrub your face of any remaining makeup that had melted off on the walk home -- happy to not be using whatever random cleanser he got, trying to pretend he knew anything about skin care before you came along.

Some time had passed by the time you finished, padding down the stairs to see he’d pulled on a shirt. His hair hung in frizzy curls down to his collarbone again, drops of water during the worn black fabric blacker. He’s still in the kitchen, emptying the dishwasher with tight shoulders and furrowed brows like he’s thinking about something. “Thanks for the jammies,” you chirp, sitting at the island on your designated barstool. “Yup,” he says, not turning to see you – very interested in the glassware he’s holding instead. Your shoulders droop with how curt he’s being, not used to this sort of standoffish attitude. He didn’t even get this miffed when you shrugged off his suggestion to watch Lord of the Rings and sided with Steve to watch Almost Famous. You hadn’t seen it in years.

“You okay?” you ask, his shoulders tense. “Yeah baby, I’m okay,” he says, but he shuts the dishwasher a little too hard for that to be true.

“You don’t seem okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“Is this about the party?”

“I said I’m fine, peach,” he repeats.

“I mean, it’s just a party Ed, it’s like – people go to parties –”

“I said I’m fine.” He looks at you for the first time since you got in the house. It’s pointed, accusatory, and as much as you wish it didn’t, you immediately get defensive.

“Wait -– ” you let out a bitter laugh, “Are you mad about the coke? Seriously?”

“Drop it,” he says lowly, “Let’s not –”

“Are you seriously upset because I did coke at a party and you weren’t there?” you’re incredulous, “You? Eddie ‘Can’t Remember Berlin’ Munson?”

“Stop, just forget it–”

“No, let’s not stop – let’s not drop it. What’s your problem with me going out and enjoying myself? You mad I’m having fun without you?” “It’s not about you going out and enjoying yourself. That’s not what it is.”

“Then what is it? What is it about me going to that party that’s got you so pissed off?” "'Cause I don't like that -- I don't like hearing that you're out getting sloppy at parties. I don't like hearing that you're trying new shit just for fun when you're by yourself," his gaze is hard while he leans over the island, chain dangling down from his neck. "I'm not by myself, I'm with my friends," you argue back, "Jesus Christ, Ed, I'm almost thirty years old."

"Coulda fuckin' fooled me," he snaps.

"Oh I forgot, you know everything. You've been there, done that. You know so much better than me, don't you?" your sarcasm makes him bite his tongue, anger teasing down his back in a blaze. Eddie hates that he has a short fuse -- he doesn't want to have one with you.

"Who'd you even get it from?" he asks, "Did you know 'em? Did you know if it was clean? Did they test it?" "Do you always know where your drugs are coming from?" you counter back. "Yeah, peach," he says with a nod, "I fucking do. I always know. God, it's like you think you're fuckin' invincible or some shit. I swear --" "I know who I got it from, it was clean -- the guy's loaded," you explain, face hot with frustration, "Can't imagine he's out there passing out fake stuff." The guy's loaded. So it was a guy -- Ed feels sick in a way that he hasn't in years. What was some guy doing telling you to try his shit? How drunk were you? Did you think he was cute? Rich guy? Did he try to pull one over on you? "How much did you pay for it?" he asks, crossing his arms. "What?"

"I wanna know if this guy scammed you, how much did you pay?"

"I didn't," you shrug. Eddie gets quiet, jaw clenching when you mention you got drugs on the house. He only knows one way that that's possible and it makes a rage in him bubble that he tries so hard to contain. His tongue runs over his teeth, trying to choose his words carefully. "You didn't pay for it?" he asks, the question clipped and tight. "No," you shrug innocently. "Did you fuck 'im?" "Wh-what?" the question punches out of you in shock. Why would he ever ask that? Why would he ever assume that? "You heard what I said," he bites, "Did. You. Fuck. Him?"

"No, I didn't fuck him," you hiss back angrily, "Why would you ever ask me that?"

"Can't think of another way to get drugs for free," he challenges back, "Did'ja suck him off? You're always tellin' me how good you are at it -- did you give him a fuckin' show?"

"What the actual fuck is wrong with you?" you get up off the barstool, posture matching his with your arms crossed tight around your chest.

"I'm just asking you a question," he repeats, his shoulders raising up and down in big breaths. "And I answered -- I didn't fuck him for free drugs," your head ticks to the side, "Sorry, not all of us have read the Eddie Munson doctrine."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm just saying that I didn't do what you would've done." Your smart smirk when you finish your sentence makes him dig his nails into his biceps, a reminder to keep his hands to himself -- to calm down. This isn't about the drugs or the guy that gave them to you -- but he doesn't like that this is how you see him. Someone whose reckless and careless, someone who uses people to get what he wants. "Who do you think you are?" he snaps, "Huh? You don't know what you're talking about."

"If the first thing you think when I say I got drugs for free is that I fucked for them, then it's pretty clear that's how you go about your own business. How many people have you fucked for drugs?" you ask, "Actually, a better question would probably be how many people have fucked you for them?" "You told me you used to deal -- so c'mon loverboy, how many women did you have fuck you for drugs? If that's how to do it." Eddie shakes his head, eyes shut and jaw tense, taking a shaky deep breath through his nose and out through his mouth, "I never had anyone fuck me for drugs."

"So why would I have done it? Why do you always assume I'm doing something wrong? Why do you always expect me to act like I know what you know all the time? And better yet -- why does it even FUCKING matter?!" your voice grows higher and louder with each question, watching him get more and more frustrated while you continue, "Why does it even matter when you don't commit anyway? Maybe you're fucking around!" "I'm not -- ugh -- I'm not fucking around, peach!" he snaps back, chucking his water bottle hard into the sink with a loud clang. "Nice, Ed," you nod, arms crossing tighter around you, "Real nice -- what, you gonna hit me? That what's next on your list? Really put me in my place? Sounds so fucking familiar, I wonder where I heard it bef--" "SHUT UP." His voice booms through the kitchen, making you flinch. "Don't you EVER say that shit to me," he bellows, finger pointing directly in your face from across the island, "Don't you EVER make that comparison." You stand there, chewing on the inside of your cheek while he yells. "Do you feel better?!" he asks, voice hoarse and deep, graveled with anger, "Do you feel better now, peach?! Did that help?! Do you feel fuckin' validated?" He watches you shake your head no, tears starting to pool in your eyes. They look up at him, glassy and wet, threatening to spill over onto your cheeks. He takes a deep breath, chest sinking when he sees the way you look at him -- silenced and quiet now, because he scared you. Because he's scary -- and that's why he shouldn't be with anyone, that's why it's too much to feel this way about someone. You wipe at your cheeks when the tears spill out, a few whimpers coming from you when you start to cry from how he yelled. From how you don't really know what you're both fighting about, but you both really know and it's terrifying. "Don't -- no baby, I'm sorry, don't cry," he says, his own breath shuddering, "I didn't mean to yell, I'm sorry. I won't -- I won't ever raise my voice at you like that." He rounds the corner of the island, coming to meet you on the other side with extended arms. His hands find their way to your cheeks, thumbs brushing away the tears gathering at your lash line, "I'm so sorry, I won't ever yell like that again. I promise. I -- I'm -- there's no excuse for that." He leans forward to leave a soft kiss on your forehead and the tip of your nose, "I'm sorry."

"That's - sniffle - not what I need you t-to be sorry f-for," you stutter out. He frowns back at you and nods. "I -- peach I just get worried, that's all," he confesses, "I don't really think you went and slept with that guy I just --"

He swallows, thinking about the words he wants to say. His hands drop from your cheeks to pull you in to him. He settles on the barstool, pulling you close to stand between his legs like he has before. "I don't wanna not hear from you for a week only to like, get a text or call from your sister that something bad happened," he says, his dark brown eyes getting as glassy as yours the more he thinks about it. "I know you're an adult, I know you can take care of yourself and that you're safe," he assures, "I promise, I know. I'm just scared." "What're you scared of?" you ask. "Losin' you," he shrugs, "To y'know, addiction or whatever -- or worse. I don't wanna lose you -- I really like having you around. Your -- you've added so much to my life in such a short period of time and I -- I don't know, peach. I think since Steve's wife I just -- It's something I think about." "You being scared doesn't give you the right to accuse me of sleeping around," your face hasn't softened at his explanation, not letting him get away with being an asshole. He likes that about you -- you don't take his shit, "It doesn't give you the right to talk down to me like I don't know what the fuck I'm doing."

"I know," he nods, "That was unfair." "I think you're just trying to find reasons to make me seem not worth it," you let out without waiver, "Even if you have to make them up."

"No," his brows furrow, "No, you're so worth it. Why would you say that?" "You were so quick to accuse me of some wild shit," you scoff, "It's like you're trying to fight with yourself about it. About how you feel and like -- maybe that lady from the bar a while ago was right. Maybe I have been just for fun for you. You got to play house with me, you got to see what a relationship is like for fun and now you can ruin it cause you're over it. Or you're bored." "No -- " he starts, heart thrumming in his chest, throat getting tight, "Peach that's not it at al--" "It seems like it --" "Did you not just hear what I said about losing y--" "I don't wanna hear it, it's just bullsh--" "Baby, I'm trying to be honest with y--" "This is starting to feel like a shitty game that you're trying t--" "I love you." You stop talking at the slight raise in his voice, the weight of the sentence hanging over the both of you in the kitchen. "God peach, I -- I fucking love you. I'm in love with you," he breathes, like he's fully realizing it for himself, too, "I...shit, I think about you all the time. I go to sleep excited cause I know m'gonna see you the next day I...Jesus babe, I -- I love you." Your lower lip wobbles again, "Yeah?" "Yeah," he nods, sighing weakly, "I knew when we got you your glasses. I knew -- I think I knew from the start. And I'm scared cause I -- I don't love people like this a lot." "Just Steve," you sniffle with a watery laugh. He lets out a chuckle, reaching out to pull you close to him by the waist. "Steve's different," he shrugs, "M'never gonna love anyone like Steve."

"I'm sorry for what I said," he reaches up again, running the pad of his thumb over your lower lip, "I'm sorry for yelling." "I'm sorry, too," you match him, hand reaching up to run your fingers through his bangs, pushing them away from his forehead to kiss it. His eyes shut closed at the soft touch, feeling you step close to him while his face rests on your chest. "I..that was fucked up of me to bring up your dad," you shake your head, "I was just angry I -- I'm so sorry." "It's okay," he mumbles, wrapping his arms around you. He rests his chin on your breasts, looking up at you, "I -- I've done a lot of work to not end up like him. Sometimes it still gets the better of me." "But I need you to know something," his face is soft but serious, "I will never put my hands on you, ever." "Okay," you nod, giving him another kiss on the bridge of his nose. "Only if you ask," he smirks, "Only if you want me to. If we're doing that." You both giggle in that way that couples do when they're being gross, holding each other on the barstool. Silence carries over you when the giggle runs out, both of you exhausted from the night -- from fighting. "I love you, too," you whisper down to him. "Thank god, cause I was really nervous that I just sort of let it all out there for nothing," he whispers back. He stands up, still wrapped up in you, offering you gentle kisses. He holds you there for a minute, you hold each other -- he realizes how tender he is with you. How you pull all of this tenderness out of him. "You're my girl, right?" he asks into the top of your head. You nod into his chest, his hand reaching up to caress over your hair. "Are you mine?" you ask into his shirt. "Yeah," he smirks into a low laugh, "Yeah, I'm your girl." "Can we go to bed?" sleepiness coats the question, a neediness lacing your voice. "Mhm." He leads you up the stairs, calling to his Google home to turn the lights off when you both make it to the top. He got a new candle for his room, something with oud in it. Woody, deep, musky. Ahead of the season. You slip into bed at the same time, leaving your phone on the side table while he slips his glasses on to check something on his. You watch him with his bedside lamp illuminating him from behind. It catches on the frizz in his wavy curls, tied up in ponytail. It bleeds over the slop of his nose and the whites of his eyes. He catches you when he puts his phone to the side, smiling. "What're you lookin' at?" he asks, slipping his glasses off and click out the light. "You just look handsome," you shrug. He murmurs a thank you before dipping down to kiss you when he slides under the covers. For the first time in forever he doesn't want to have sex after a fight -- it almost feels cheap. Like it's a cover -- like he's not really sorry, like he didn't mean all the things he said. "Night, pretty." He pulls you into him when you settle in, your back pressed up against his chest, "I love you." "I love you," you say back, eyes closed, encased in his arms. He's never held someone so tight to him. Not since Chicago.

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