#and most of them have terrible sleep schedules so if we hang out when i have work the next day i know that I'll end up staying up too late

[notanotherblorbo]

The problem with having friends is that I want to hang out all the time and do things for 1 million years but I am also. Tired. And having a job. And having a family that has a bunch of shit going on all the times.

[laurasimonsdaughter]

Dear @catwingsathena,

Thank you for sending in an application to be matched with one of our service dragons! Your needs and preferences suggest that a slightly older dragon would probably suit you best. A juvenile is easier to train for specific tasks, but a little less predictable and would also be more work for you. Right now we have two dragons in our training program that might be a good match:

Philly, a very steady, flightless dragon that weighs about 5 kilo's. She ended up in our shelter because her wings are no longer able to support her and we started training her when we noticed how clever and social she is. We are confident that she will be able to give all the assistance you need, including guarding the showers while you are in it. But while she is also very cuddly, she's not really playful. She's rather serious for a dragon and tends to ignore other animals.

Bagel, a rare crossbreed between what we guess must have been a common pocket dragon and a freshwater dragon. She adores water and is very curious and affectionate, also towards other pets. None of your requirements should give her any trouble, but we do think you might need to give her her own bracelet to hoard for herself, or she might try to keep yours.

If either or both of those sound like a good fit to you, we'd love for you to come to the shelter some day soon to meet them. It's a cliché, but the dragon really does pick the owner, and it's hard to tell what personality suits you best until you're face to shout with them!

~ The Domestic Dragon Trust

PS. We have enclosed your application form below.

Service Dragon Application Form

Size: I would prefer a dragon on the larger side of the pocket dragon size range—large enough to cuddle properly and be a pleasant weight on my lap (if I’m sitting up) or chest (if I’m lying down), but not so heavy that walking around with them in a cross-body messenger bag would be cumbersome or hard on my shoulders. Maybe roughly rabbit-sized?

Skills: the primary supports I would need from a service dragon are self-care reminders and light assistance, primarily with meals, meds, and showers. I struggle enough with showers that it might be useful for me to have a dragon who enjoys playing in water enough to want to get in the shower with me, but if that’s not possible, hanging out just outside the curtain and making reassuring sounds would be more than satisfactory. It would also be very helpful if my dragon could bring my migraine rescue meds when needed, encourage me to get up and stretch my legs if I’ve been at the computer too long, and/or pester me into eating and drinking water if I haven’t in a while. I don’t have nightmares terribly often (maybe twice a month on average, these days), but when I do I would greatly appreciate it if my dragon could wake me up. I’d also appreciate if they could grab my medical ID bracelet if I leave it on my bed or try to leave the house without it.

Personality: as I mentioned before, a cuddly dragon is a must. An ability to tolerate or even enjoyment of water would be helpful, for both shower purposes and because I live in an area with a lot of rain and like to go walking in it. Still, while playfulness is nice and an interest in finding things would be very helpful, I think I would do better with a fairly calm, laid-back dragon. My sleep schedule is very erratic (not because of when I go to bed or get up, just insomnia), so I would need a dragon who won’t be bothered by me being awake for hours in the middle of the night and getting up or turning on lights—the ability to nap when an opportunity presents itself might help, and I’d like it if they could sometimes hang out on my bed with me while I’m writing or resting (preferably without interfering with my typing too much).

Living Situation: I go back and forth between two houses approximately every other week. Both houses have at least one cat, and one of the houses also has a small dog (who is never allowed in my room, where I spend most of my indoor time). I spend long stretches of time walking around the block or going on the swingset at the park, and I love being outside in the rain. I also spend a lot of time sitting in my bed—it’s where I do most of my reading and writing, as well as resting. I have a part-time job to which I probably couldn’t bring my dragon for a variety of reasons, but my shifts are 4 hours, so I won’t be away too long.

[captain-aralias]

giving birth

idk, i'm pretty sure some people wouldn't write a post about going into labour on tumblr, but it's a thing i wanted to write about, so - it's here if you want it! if you'd rather avoid, don't click the read more.

things normal people might want to know outside the cut:

baby is now 11 days old <3 things are generally going well. i sleep between about 11pm and 3am, and then again 8am to 10am

it's been hard to get enough brain together to write a post like this, reply to comments, read fic, etc, as many of my most cogent hours have been visitor hours or hanging out with my partner. the night shift is not a good time to do things that aren't watching TV. i've managed to Read Half a Book (daisy jones and the six - easy going, i like it)

i was going to cosplay him as baby simon snow left at the orphanage, but he looks nothing like simon (much more like baz - currently: grey eyes, reddish-gold skin, dark hair), and also i don't want to write on my baby :o

surprise fourth entry: we think the terrace house next door has been turned into a brothel ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ok - birth stuff after this. not too much gory detail, probs, but some.

the beginning part you already know!

waters broke on thursday 11th, just after i woke up. this was two days after the stitch was removed, and therefore almost certainly related, so hooray for stitch! kept the baby in until 37 weeks.

i'd been worried that i might not realise my waters had broken, as apparently this is totally possible. i am here to tell you - that YES, it is possible. i clocked what it probably was immediately, but also it wasn't a 4 cups of liquid is everywhere sort of deal, it was more like - about half a cup every hour or so. and so i thought - this is probably what is happening, but maybe it's not and i should have done more pelvic floor exercises.

went to hospital. got hooked up to the machine that monitors baby heartbeat and movement. nothing much happening, although heartbeat all ok. the midwife on duty was called 'merlyn' - true story.

she asked me to walk around for a bit and come back, so my partner and i walked to the costa coffee inside the hospital. i ordered one of the new 'bubble' drinks, because i thought - why not? it's sugary and cold, these are things that make babies move. the drink was...... not good. blueberry slushy with cream on top and bubbles that were a) too big to fit through the absolutely normal straw and b) apparently were a cross between blueberries and popping boba. i say apparently as i'd given up by then and my partner ate them.

anyway - this detail included just to show you how surreal and nothingy early labour was. we walked back, hooked back up to the machine. baby now kicking a bit, and merlyn asked me whether i just had a really high pain tolerance and therefore wasn't upset about the contractions. i said, 'i dont know - guess we're about to find out' 🤔

agreed i probably wasn't in labour yet, so i was sent home, but asked to come back at 4.30 for my pre-scheduled scan with the nice doctor who first realised my cervix was open, and who we've seen regularly since (because my partner rang to complain when we had no follow up, and because this doctor was the one who rang us back and then made sure we were seen afterwards. not brilliant work from NHS administrators).

was also told if i didn't go into labour before hand, to come back at 8.30am (24 hours after waters broken) to be induced. given leaflet about induction methods. key take away - could take up to 3 days. sounds terrible.

home for 2 hours, back to hospital for scan.

we were waiting around for about half an hour. shown in - doctor says, 'we've had some difficult patients today, sorry! but you should be easy'. my partner tells her my waters have broken - she's surprised! (but pleased) no one has managed to tell her or put it in any notes, which she just reviewed. again - great job. i do love you NHS, but what is going on? a student midwife is trying to scan me - and has had to deal with all these previous difficult cases. with little amniotic fluid left, her job is basically impossible. sorry :'(

but - waters breaking confirmed! honestly, until that point i was still not sure. doctor says, induction could be offered immediately, but we mostly don't do that as in almost all cases you go into labour before 24 hours. i said thank you again for spotting my cervix being open. weird to think we won't see her again!!

went home. watched the end of 'little dorrit' (overall - it's good. so many famous people. the ending is a bit all over the place, though). about 9pm started feeling period-pain type pain. figured: probably a contraction! definitely did not feel like i expected in that there was no real release. it was just - now you're having a painful period. i called maternity triage again to say there was blood in the water now, and they reminded me that was totally normal (mucus plug, i guess) and to come back when things were serious.

so - i went to sleep.

woke up at about 2am. contractions now serious business, but also still... not as serious as i'd expected. again: basically it felt like period pain, this time crossed with constipation. and then it would go away, and i'd feel totally normal again, which i was not expecting.

we'd been told to come in when the contractions were every 5 minutes for an hour. my contractions were coming about ever 2-3 minutes. after about 20 minutes, i told my partner that i wanted to go to the hospital now, even if we should really wait. this was the RIGHT decision.

i'm the only one who can drive our car. it was obviously not a good idea to drive the car. i called an uber. unfortunately the labour ward is on the other side of the hospital to the main entrance, and doesn't have an address you can give uber..... retrospectively i'd have done better just putting in the street, like i usually did, but i tried to use the labour ward post code. we ended up at the main entrance, which was shut.

erin (my partner) keeps telling people that the uber drive was annoyed i slammed the door of his car, but i honestly do not remember this. the drive was about 10 minutes, during which i alternated between feeling bad and feeling totally fine.

we didn't bother trying to direct the driver to the right part of the hospital, just got out. erin wanted to go and get a wheelchair, but i didn't want to just sit on the ground outside the hospital in the middle of the night while she did that, and i felt completely fine ... except when i didn't.

so we walked to the labour ward. it's about 5 minutes from the entrance. i sat on the floor when the contractions came. then walked again. cool times.

arrived at maternity triage. again, it felt like going there every other time we'd ever been there - my key take away is that most of being in labour was extremely underwhelming. pain was not great, to the extent that i was thinking 'i can see why people don't like labour, maybe this was a terrible idea', but i could still think things like that. they hooked me up to the same machine as they had in the morning, and this time it said - yes, definitely in labour (which i knew, but ho hum - it was doing its best!).

asked to confirm i was a low risk pregnancy. we were like - nope, don't think so. ivf, stitch, isnt that in the notes??

a midwife came over and was like - "WOW, you're 8cm dilated." (of the necessary 10cm) at which point they started to take everything a bit more seriously. but they also described a bunch of pain relief options - and i was like, whatever, give me whatever i can have. and then was told - oh no, you actually can't have pethadine, water birth, or epidural of these as you're too far along. (which i also knew, but then why offer?)

i'd sort of suspected this might be the case, given how my cervix tried to open at 21 weeks. so my birth plan was basically 'whatever'. v glad i hadn't had my heart set on anything in particular.

they wheeled me down the corridor to one of the birthing rooms. they wouldn't let me go to the toilet in case i had the baby in the toilet..... that's how quickly things were happening.

i managed to change into the hospital gown, then got onto the bed. 'this is such a comfortable bed' i told my partner, although later (post birth) i realised that it wasn't... but i appreciated it a lot at the time.

i WAS allowed gas and air, hurrah. i'm extremely keen on doing things that make my life easier, so i accepted, obvs. basically, you breathe in during the contractions, and breathe out of the mask normally when you're not contracting.

THIS made the whole experience very different from just 'intense period pain', in part probably because the pain was ramping up, but also because whenever i wasn't contracting i felt completely off my face from the gas. overall, i thought this was a decent pain relief option. i also liked how breathing in the gas gave me something to focus on while pain was happening and it was a clear signal to everyone else that it was happening.

i probably had about... 5 more before my body was like 'maybe time to push'. (it really did feel different/like an actual urge). midwife told me i couldn't have the gas and air anymore - boo - just focus on pushing when the urge came.

pushed...... but obviously it hurt, so even though they were like 'keep pushing!' i thought, i will just relax because that's less painful. (great job, brain.) but i only faked out twice.

they invited a doctor in, because i was bleeding, and baby's heartrate was dropping. i agreed to the episiotomy because even though i reeeally didn't want that, i obviously would do whatever to get the baby safe.

retrospectively, my partner and i think that probably i was bleeding because i'd just had the stitch out two days before and those wounds had opened. but neither of us thought of it at the time, and no one assisting with the birth had had time to read the notes. (this is a theme of the post, not to be too whingey - but it was a shame). but anyway, the cutting (boo) came with a side of local anaesthetic (HOORAY) so actually it felt like a very good decision at the time, even above baby's safety.

one more contraction, one more push - baby was born in one go.

he's premature-levels of small at 5lb 10oz (5th percentile), even though he's technically full term. this is why erin and i think the bleeding was from the stitch rather than the baby, although one of the midwives suggested perhaps he was holding his arm up next to his face and that made him seem bigger. the scan we got the day before estimated his weight as being more normal, but scans are super unreliable particularly late in pregnancy.

really a very easy birth, as far as i can tell. i had slept through a lot of the early stage. the fear of being at home at not with medical professionals was the worst bit (and we fixed that by just going in even when we weren't sure) and as soon as it was over, i felt immediately fine. the whole thing had taken 2 hours tops. baby born at 4.30am.

i thought i'd cry when they gave me the baby, but actually i was too surprised that he was actually there and alive. (my partner cried.) the umblical cord looks creepy and alien. we'd agreed a medical professional should cut the cord, rather than erin (who wants to do this? they just want dads to feel involved). i got to hold him baby while they gave me the shot to deliver the placenta. barely felt it.

then had to give baby to erin for 30 minutes while a fuck tonne of stitches were put in... the amount of sewing involved was definitely worrying. i'd assumed maybe like... two stitches, but... it was a lot. can't recommend (though could not feel it at the time.)

after that, we just got to hang out in the room. i showered, changed, they brought me (but not erin) some breakfast and lunch. they did tests on the baby, most of which he passed. didn't pass the hearing test but apparently this is normal, as lots of babies have fluid in their ears. we think he can hear as he has startled at loud noises since. all the clothes i'd brought were hilariously too big.

sent home about 12 hours after the birth. could have stayed if we'd wanted to, but definitely did not.

i felt totally fine the entire day of the birth, full of LOTS of adrenalin. second day was also ok. third day was my crash. i got a cold, which was NOT good for my pelvic floor (and which i still have, RIP). my stitches hurt, the sleep debt had kicked in and i was hobbling everywhere, and breastfeeding wasn't going well. before the birth i'd been very much of the opinion that i'd breastfeed if it was easy, but i found it kind of weird and knew the health benefits were exaggerated. (but not completely, obviously). deep in my hormones, i was not able to hold onto this previously rational view. instead, i was thinking - i have no connection to my baby anymore.

i also cried at the song 'making a man' from the musical operation mincemeat (which is NOT an emotional song - but is about someone with the same name as my baby, who i'd just made), the beginning of the movie 'in the heights' (it was just so good!), the ending of the movie 'pride', and i cried again while describing what had happened at the end of 'pride' and how i'd cried.....

bought several breast pumps, fed the baby formula, took a day off from trying to breastfeed, things pretty much fixed for me (except for the crying at movies) by day 5. going to continue with combination feeding (i.e. breastmilk+formula) though, because it just seems insane to have to wake up every time the baby is hungry. what am i, a sadist? and when people are over - how good not to have to get your breasts out... thank you makers of formula.

ANYWAY. we're now on day 11. feels like baby is pretty easy going for a baby, he only cries when he needs something - which i appreciate, as it helps me keep him alive \o/ he will sleep in his basket, but only if he's already asleep. he prefers to be held. he can sleep for 3 hours at a time, but only during the day - at night you're lucky to get 1 hour, and he has been awake for about 2 hours at a time, unlike about 15 minutes average in the day. he smells nice, he wasn't cute-cute when he first came out, but he is getting extremely cute now and i think he looks more like my partner than an unknown donor (although still all to play for, i think). because he's still super small and almost pre-term, his legs and arms are still all curled up like he's in the womb, even though he's been out 11 days. but he's gradually uncurling them and stretching out.

i like holding him. he makes funny faces. he has a LOT of hair - which means the heartburn was right about that one. (n.b. heartburn is linked to hair, this is an old wives tale that is now scientifically proven) think it's going well, overall <3

n.b. i had to pause at this point because baby woke up. what they say about baby boys peeing on you while you change their nappies is 100% accu-rat, but it's quite funny really. we haven't worked out how to stop it because putting a cloth over him makes him hold it in..... and then you remove the cloth....... fine comedy in action.

my bump was very small, so i was able to put my pre-pregnancy jeans back on after only a few days. hooray, i love jeans.

uterine contractions started about day 6 (this is a thing i feel i did not know about before being pregnant myself. 7 days worth of contractions post baby to bring your uterus back in line). wow, it's like MORE PERIOD PAIN. great. there's less blood than i expected, though. i also can't control my temperature well at night - so i'm super hot while asleep, then get out of bed and start shivvering. apparently this is what the menopause will be like. looking forward to that 😅

not much else to add except the brothel stuff. basically 2 nights ago, someone knocked on my front door at 4.30 (same time baby was born!) in the morning as i was sitting up with baby. rang the doorbell, walked round to peer through the window, and then knocked again. i would not have answered - just wanted him to go away, but erin came down and opened the door, which was (it turns out) the right thing to do, but i was not happy about it - as we live in a semi-dodgy neighbourhood, although i've always felt relatively safe as we're off the highstreet and there are often people outside the pub until 1-2am, which is annoying but also feels like they'd see and stop anything bad.

i was running through scenarios like 'and then he breaks in' or 'and then he stabs whoever opened the door' in my mind. instead he just said something like - 'do you know where the whorehouse is?' and erin said 'wtf, it's 3am' and closed the door.

this could have just been a random incident, and indeed i didn't hear him say 'whorehouse' so i thought it was just a drunk guy asking for directions. but once she told me what he'd said, we then realised that the house next door to us... probably is a brothel. it's been renovated by our ex-neighbours and rented out, all the windows are blacked out, including the skylight we can see out of our windows. there's a complex doorbell system, they refuse to take our packages in, they don't have any bins out the front (which is presumably because no one is using the house as a house), and we've definitely heard people having sex through the walls. though erin thinks they've put up sound insulation just in time to not have to hear the baby crying in retaliation.

she's american and leftie and very against cops, so i'm trying not to be a karen about it. i have not reported it to the police, but i have said to erin already that if anything else happens that makes me feel unsafe...... i probably will. the man knocking on the door makes me not want to be awake with the baby in the night, even though nothing happened. (he broke the first rule of secret brothel - you DONT talk about secret brothel). we don't have our ex-neighbours details, so reporting is all we could do. apart from i guess ask them to move.... (won't be doing that, obvs. confrontation? no thanks.)

hopefully it's fine, and they will just move on at some point. VERY weird, though. and not what i need while hopped up on hormones.

glad to have written this post! feels like a good turning point in baby land, being able to write some words even if it's just this stream of consciousness. i also logged back into work Teams to send some pictures. since he was born, have been out with baby to the midwife (in the car), marks and spencers (in the car with pram), boots (in the pram), and today to a hipster coffee shop (in car, baby slept in pram bassinet). might reply to some comments tomorrow. working back up to actually writing some fic or finishing my lego.

also - it's (almost) hitting me that i have 9 months off work. apart from the sleep, i feel like i could go back to work now.... but i WANT the time off. but usually i only take 2 weeks off, and i've done that now... so it's time to go back to work...

i did read a bunch of other messages on Teams/Slack when i was posting the pictures. v hard not to care. even with something much more important to do.

ok - going to eat some food, now. thank you to anyone who read this far! hope it was interesting as well as long.

not tagging this pregnancy as i was doing it so people could block the tag, but people who don't know me literally found my posts and read them. and ... that's not what this is for.

[pbandjesse]

I am sending someone a furby! It is nice to move one of them to a new home. And it was a nice way to end a day that was pretty though on me.

I really struggled. I had a horrible time falling asleep last night. I had to wake James up I was so upset and feeling so bad. And they were difficult to wake up which upset me more. I was going through it for sure.

I slept an extra 10 minutes. Which didn't actually make me feel much better. I just did not want to leave. I wasn't even feeling particularly bad, but I was afraid of feeling worse. And it was so wildly humid outside. I was shocked when I went outside. James would give me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to take on the drive. And then I was off. I waved to my husband as they biked away. And I headed to work.

And it was a mostly find day. The kids were great. They liked the project a lot more and that made me feel a lot better about it after being sort of upset about it all evening.

I was very unhappy inside though. While the nausea wasn't terrible, my brain just felt low. Exhausted. I need a break. Camp is almost over. But I am already thinking about the fall.

I would go down to the office to chat with Heather about it. She would give me the dates we have for feild tiros and rentals so I would know when I talked to Jesse about the September schedule. Elizabeth would get confused later when I was like. Oh I have the feild trips written down and she's like what feildtrips?? But I call all the rentals no matter what they are field trips. Just like I call all the musuem events weddings. Should I stop that? Probably but it's not the most important thing to me right now.

I had my two morning groups and they were good. They made interesting pieces. I decided to order everyone both cup molds and plastic bags molds. And that little bit of choice seemed to make people a lot more interested and experimental. Which was fun to see.

I was a little frustrated with some kids who kept interrupting me but we would get through it and things would be good.

I was very tired though. So at lunch I would lay in my hammock and fall asleep for a half hour. I was just a bit dizzy and I wanted to sleep more but I had to be up for my groups.

Tuesday is my longest day. With 2 groups in the morning and 4 in the afternoon. And it is very tough!! But since I will have my doctor's appointment next Tuesday I won't have to have this very long day again this year.

My afternoon groups did a good job. Sweet kids. I was frustrated by some councilors just straight up not doing their jobs but the ones who were doing their jobs made me feel very appreciative. The good ones make my life so much easier.

Bontkirchen just wanted to make bracelets. A few of them did clay. I would knit quietly and enjoy the conversations. Learning about what they want to be when they grow up. Daisy gave me a cookie. We got to learn about Harris picking the Minnesota governor as her VP. And he seems like a good man. I think it's a solid pick. We try to not talk politics at puhtok but it was literally just announced while we were sitting there so it felt like they deserved to know.

My last group of the day was horse camp. And I had checked with Chloe twice to make sure they were coming. And she said yes. But then it was 345 and they weren't there??

I was sitting there waiting when PJ came to visit! It was so nice to see him. I was sad when he wasn't able to work at camp this year. He's a real adult now. He would hang out with me for a bit but soon he was off to say hello to some other people.

And horse camp still wasn't there.

I would go down to the office to use the bathroom. I was annoyed that I could have been home but I wasn't I was waiting for them!! But as I was leaving the office I saw Alicia and she is the horse camp councilor so I followed them and would have horse camp for 20 minutes.

So they just cut string for bracelets and got started on things. They had a few kids who were apparently really really struggling and that's why they were so late. But I was just glad they came in the end.

But soon it was swim time and they were off. And I would head home.

Thankfully the drive was not terrible. There was a bit of traffic but I would be home by 515. I got a good parking space and was just really happy to be home.

James was warming up my leftover pizza. And while they did that I went and took a shower. The plaster makes me so dry. And while my nausea isn't so bad, it is still there. And it was nice to just sit in the cool water.

I had my two pieces of pizza. And James baked bread. And we have been chilling on the couch. They are playing a little guitar now and it's just really nice being together.

We will probably watch a show. And maybe have a milkshake. And just try and have a nice night.

Hopefully tomorrow I feel more normal. It's been a hard couple weeks physically. It would be nice to not be so aware of my body all of the time.

I hope you all sleep easy tonight. I love you all. Good night

[napsaps-archive]

Hehehe just for you Ill give you a happy ending to this story :3 enjoy!

Its a few years after that faithful class and a few months after you graduate. But no matter how hard you try, you couldnt get that southern beauty out of your head. You tried your luck when applying for other classes, but your schedule never seemed to line up. Asking around didnt really help either, she didnt live on campus and wasnt particularly close to the people you hang out. Whatever, it wasnt a big deal! Its not like she haunts your daydreams when you should be paying attention in class and back in your room while youre sleeping. Its ok, really.

Anyways, you had the most exhausting week youve had since graduating, so you decided to treat yourself to your favorite coffee shop/bookstore. Its been awhile since youve been there. Putting on your most comfortable but still cute outfit, you head out of your apartment and set out.

Once you arrived, you got hit with the bitter coffee smell and the soothing jazz playing on the speakers. Its wasnt terribly busy, but there was still a decent line for the register. So much for an easy day. You sighed and made your way to the back of the line. You couldnt see who was manning the register but you could tell it was definitely someone newer cause usually it goes a little faster with seasoned workers. No big deal tho, you'll be sure to tip them a little extra for having to deal with customers all day.Slowly but surely, you made your way up to the register counter. You already had your order in mind, so there was no need to look up at the menu. So that left you being face to face with the cashier. Who had a...familiar face. You couldnt pin out how and where, but she looked so familiar. Gorgeous brown hair pulled back behind her cap, beautiful light green eyes, full lips that had a shine from gloss, and perfect manicured nails on top of her tablet. All in all, one of the most beautiful girls youve ever seen. But where have you seen her?

"What can I get started for you, sweetheart?"

Just from hearing her voice, all of it came rushing back to you. The biology class, being paired up and initially dreading it, fearing she would be another case of dropping all the work into you while still getting credit, actually turning out to be one of the nicest people you ever met. The girl that plagued your mind for months even after the class ended. The one you were too nervous to talk to and regretted that you missed your chance. Now shes here standing not even a foot away from you.

"Uh..you on, doll? Youre holding up the line."

Quickly breaking out of your thoughts and yelping out your order, you handed her some cash and sped walked to a empty table before groaning into your hands. Of course you had to embarrass yourself in front of her and the entire shop. Goddammit, why cant things go your way?

Eventually, your name was called from the front and you stood up to grab your cup. You took a sip and, wow. It was perfect, exactly how you liked it. Kudos to whoever made it. Lowering your cup, you noticed more writing next to your name. Confused, you turned the cup around to read what it said.

'I thought I remembered you from somewhere! LTNS cutie! Maybe we can catch up sometime? ;) xxx-xxx-xxxx'

Your cheeks burned up as you looked over at the workers counter. The two of you made eye contact and she gave you a quick wink before moving on to help her customer. Butterflies fluttered in your chest and your cheeks burned hotter. But before you could forget, you made sure to add the number to your contacts list for later.

Maybe some good came out of all this after all.

immgoinggsto theoww up shes everything to me

[bisognamorire]

Beloved A.,

Happy Friday!

Up here you see a few photos I took this week. I had wanted to arrange them separately but I can’t find the strength to organise this post much (sorry, its all over the place). The felted bunnies made me think of you and I wanted to get one for you but I am not supposed to. The candles are in the religious mourning room. It is located adjoined to the front hall where my reception is, so during nightshifts I go to lay down in there and try to rest a bit (theres a bench). I often get mentally unwell around 2-3 AM during my nightshifts. Everything just gangs up to torture me. The melon bread was disgusting. The highlight of my week was to go to the lake after my first nightshift and feed the ducks and swans some sunflowerseeds.

This week I tried different methods to stop myself from dissociating. And it worked most of the time. Once the numbness of dissociation fell away, though, I dissolved into tears; when I took a walk around the lake, when I sat in public transport, when I was at work, when I woke up in the morning, when I sat in the living room. I’m always in tears.

Always, Dad and you. Dad and you.

I think feeling how much it hurts me to have lost the both of you is still better than to dissociate and feel nothing.

Theres a scene in One Piece after the Wa no Kuni Arc where Momonosuke runs to the shore to bid the Strawhats Farewell as they leave the island. He sobs and begs them to stay and not leave him like a toddler. I felt like him in that scene this past week.

On Saturday, when I felt like I would get ill, I went to the city to eat chicken soup in an asian diner that I used to go to when I started uni in 2017. It usually helped me to get strong again. Unfortunately they’ve been closed for some reason for many months now. I then went to have soup at an other asian diner, it was only 2€ and the people probably thought I was homeless (I looked rather dishevelled and done with life) because they gave me a relatively large bowl and lots of vegetables.

It does wonders for your soul to eat a hearty soup when you’re feeling poorly.

On Sunday I visited Marina, Sharon’s friend (well, our childhood friend). She broke up with her boyfriend of seven years recently. We talked about a lot of topics like identity, mothers, parental emotional neglect and abandonment. She told me that she just hangs with random people because shes so lonely (she lives in another state and we can’t easily visit her) and she takes whatever company she can get so that she is distracted and that she doesn’t really like the girls she goes out to party with. That she thinks theyre rather shallow contacts. Its hard when someone doesn’t have a social network that breaks their fall and the person has to carry all of it themselves. We ended up just talking and we watched an episode of ‘Bodies’ on Netflix. Its a murder mystery show.

I started crying when I got back home from that visit. I felt so overwhelmed and exhausted and sad about everything around me and in my own life.

Other than that I’ve not done much this week other than work (when I work nightshifts and get home from work at 7 AM in the morning there’s really not much of me left to use for anything during the day) and sleep and rot in bed due to feeling terrible. Unfortunately my shift schedule continues to be awful the next days and I’m thinking about calling in sick soon. I desperately need to rest.

Someone put a nail in my bike tire (the one you rode) and I brought it upstairs from the bike cellar to my balcony to repair it. I curse the person who deliberately put a nail in it.

During my walk through the city I also went to a pakistani store and saw this! I remember you cracking up about it in F.

How was that in 2022? I seem to have no general sense of time passing the entirety of 2023. After dad died in June, I have no recollection of time passing.

This morning I saw mum for the first time in about a month? I felt unsettled by my therapist talking to me in detail about my cycle of dissociation and what harm it brings to myself and the relationships to other people around me, because I apparently perceive reality fragmented, or selective, when I am dissociated (which I am most of the time). I‘m horrified to see the mechanisms of my brain play out in these ways, that I don‘t want.

My mother asked me how I was but she hadnt in weeks (she simply started an argument and left me when I was so unwell because of things between us a few weeks ago). I couldn‘t tell her. What use has it? She can‘t handle me feeling unwell and things will only get worse, if I tell her.

Unfortunately, not telling her how I am was also a wrong decision. She started accusing me of not actually wanting to see her and why am I pulling auch a depressed face and won‘t talk to her?!

Then she defended my older brother and his ex-girlfriend (the mother of my niece) and basically said that its my niece‘s own fault that her mother treats her badly. I can‘t believe how this cycle of parental neglect and abuse continues into the next generations, just because the adults in the child‘s life are irresponsible and egoistic. And I‘m sitting there with over 10 years of therapy, because of how my mum and dad were and my mother still defends other neglectful and abusive parents’ behaviour!

I couldn‘t bear it anymore and just got up without a word, paid (was cussed out by a grandma in the process) and left.

I don’t have much things to look forward to. I ordered a weighted blanket to help my sleep without medication. I also got a package of Palo Santo incense, which makes my flat smell cosy when I take naps.

I have to go back to work tomorrow and work through until next Wednesday and I’m thinking about calling in sick on Monday.

I felt miserable looking at your blog yesterday and seeing that you wish to experience ‚it‘ again, that you post about ‚letting love in again‘ I am not sure what you meant by that but my mind makes me think you‘re wishing to fall in love again…

How many times can I feel like I am losing the same person over and over again? I’m scared to look at your blogs now. I wish I could see something and know that you miss me and that you love me forever and be content and never look it up again.

Yesterday I went to the cellar and rummaged in your box. I found a transcript of the first ‚goodbye‘ Message you sent me in January 2023. I knew it was there. In it, you don‘t avoid telling me that you love me (I felt like your message from this January avoided using the word ‚love’ and it made me anxious about the reasons). I heard your voice say the words to me then and I started crying and breaking down in the cellar, my knees just gave in.

All that rumination about me being abandoned is probably not helping my mental wellbeing. Spending hours and days composing these entries and not knowing if they ever reach you, is also playing into this.

I don‘t know what to do, I am so so sad about it all, I just feel like giving up everything and letting go of life.

My sole hope is that I feel a bit better when it gets warmer, so that I can lay in the meadow with the sun on my skin, with the treetops swaying in the wind.

I don’t have much hope other than that.

Your Sabo who loves you.

[hanafubukki]

Convert Anon💜 here!!

Tiny us and imagine us getting lost and our boys can’t find us(we’re stuck under some furniture)

Floyd flipping out and breaking things as he tries to find his shrimp shrimpy and Jade also being more thorough and Azul putting a bounty out for whoever finds us(we have to pay him back later of course) and when we are found Floyd has to hold back squeezing us out of relief and Jade and Azul kinda gently scold us for being so reckless with how small we are and if we cry I feel Azul would sigh and place us on his lap or in his hat and bring us some food and water cause we were lost for so long and Floyd will demand to squeeze us when we’re big again for worrying him so much

Idia and Ortho would shut everything down and do a scan of the dorm and go inch by inch with robots and them and when we’re found we get a lil tracker or a dollhouse to hang out in to not get lost again and Ortho scans us to make sure that we’re all good and Idia just gently hugs us

Malleus would 100% try and use magic and Lilia and Silver and Sebek are flipping over furniture as they look for us and Malleus has to stop himself from making a storm from how worried he is and when we’re found Sebek scolds us for getting lost and worrying Wakasama and Silver and Lilia look so relieved and give us hugs and maybe a smooch and Malleus is so happy that his child of man is okay and they do better to not lose us again

Vil would have Rook hunt us down and Epel has to stop himself from going crazy trying to find us and once Rook safely brings us back Vil scolds us for worrying him, his skin is going to wrinkle because of us >:( and Rook tells us we were a most amazing prey or something and would love to hunt us again

Riddle would absolutely make his entire dorm search for us, Trey will also stress bake, Cater takes pics when we’re found and Ace and Deuce would probably have been the ones to lose us in the rose maze and Riddle would behead them for it and Cater and Trey would feed us and make sure we’re okay as Riddle lectures the two

can you imagine the abosute panic these NRC students are going to have convert anonie? they can find you and now they are extra aware of where they are looking, some are floating, some are sniffing you out, and its just a total chaotic and hilarious sight lolol

the octatrio were very scared at one point you had to persuade then not to put you in a jar or fish bowl or a terrarium. expect to work more shifts at mostro lounge anonie

idia is keeping you close and giving you a tiny bracelet or necklace with a tracker, no loosing the norm again. do you want him to die? he can go on without you.

malleus is ready to use all his magic to look across twisted wonderland for you. Lila uses his bats to look for you. silver is looking and when he's asleep his critter friends are looking. sebek is quiet and yet loud. where is the human? they must find you! from now one, you are with oe of them all the time. time to make a schedule

epel is ready to flip all the tables and rook is on the prowl ...literally. Vil is scolding you while you are sitting on a makeup pad watching him do his skincare routine and you offer to give him a kiss and he just stares at you before shaking his head. but you see a slight smile on his face. he didn't say no after all

riddle has his card soldiers out and about. you will be found. or its off with their head! lolol I can oracitally hear it in my head. ace and deuce is not allowed to babysit us. they failed terribly. while you are in a tea cup in their hands also getting lectured.

but what if...this entire time you have been lost, you were with grim? out in the garden with shade, sleeping cuddle next to him as he curls around you. they all breath a sign of relief.

[sugar-petals]

can you give us more thoughts about domestic yoongles? the taemin's one (wich I love) just made me miss the cat boy so much ;o;

i have a phd in househusband yoongi so let me fire out some ideas for ya.

myg at home headcanon

🐱 word count. 1.9k | fluff, slice of life, slight nsfw mentions, x reader, bullet points

The doorbell sound is a recording of Yoongi imitating a doorbell. He’s such a meme. Ceci n'est pas une pipe.

Seemingly, he teaches himself a new recipe every week. To perfection. Yoongi is very particular about sticking to the recipe and wielding his kitchen tools in the right way. He collects knives, olive oil, and still hates cutting onions.

He separates sleep time, work time, and couple time as the holy trinity. For each, he switches his mood.

Blushes easily no matter for how long you’ve been together.

Establishes his own radio show where he DJs at one point.

Yoongi keeps an extreme track on the garbage schedule. He knows exactly what is due when. Separating the trash is a must. That includes sorting out fake friends trying to get between your relationship. Your social circle as a couple is extremely deliberate.

Yoongi deems himself a terrible host for guests. Unless Hoseok is there to drag him out, it's true he rather stays in the kitchen or at the barbecue preparing the menu courses rather than making small talk. He leaves the hospitality bits to you, however you want to go about it.

What he lacks in conversing with guests, he makes up in bed, God is absolutely fair.

He sings and hums pretty often and has his own vernacular of extraterrestrial uwu noises. It's an alphabet that you have to yet decipher but it's incredibly cute.

Self-made paintings everywhere around his house. 

Yoongi hasn't gone clubbing since grammar school. The most he does is going to a restaurant at lunch with very close friends. And always in a work context. His private life is so secluded from everything else and paparazzi just don't spot him anywhere, Dispatch thinks he must live abroad.

Very well, he does consider his big ole house a separate country. It's a living organism with a studio, gym, trophy room, small-size basketball court, and vastly equipped kitchen. A home theater as well, he likes American movies (like Inception) and Korean action genres, and you can stream whatever you fancy in there whenever you like. 

Yes, he has underwear with cute little bears on.

There's even a little pond in the backyard. Yoongi, Pisces he is, likes fishes after all. Sometimes he sits at the edge of the 'Little Ole Min Lake (LOML)' and stares into the water for literal hours with his chin parked on his palm.

His fridge is so high-tech and futuristic, even Yoongi is rendered clueless by its AI sometimes. The washing machine, too.

Yoongi watches RuPaul’s drag race. What did you expect? He finds it so humorous.

Owns lord knows how many comic collections.

Favorite holiday destination: New York.

Christmas is basically 50% you unveiling new music equipment to him in the garage and Yoongi almost fainting at the sexiness of it. The other 50% is spent holding hands and orgasm after orgasm until the new year since you loose track of time.

Goes on long rants why he’d marry you again every weekend.

Making you presents is his specialty. Always accompanied with a hand-written note. He writes a lot of things by hand for you in general. Texting, basically never. Always on paper.

No sex without a blanket and socks on. Yoongi gets cold very very easily and just doesn’t like showing skin. You buy him a heated blanket for his birthday, he even uses it in his studio chair.

Chronically addicted to making out.

Matching black outfits and glasses.

Laughs at even your worst jokes or phrases you didn’t expect you even uttered.

Yoongi owns the phoniest, most secretive-looking black car ever and nobody knows about it. Even he forgets he owns it, in fact he genuinely acts like it just doesn’t exist. Hilarious. And that guy has a level 1 Korean driver's license. Which allows him to drive trailers and busses and fucking trucks, and construction machines, let that sink in.

It's really a genius curse. Yoongi being put to the test will always deliver but he won't choose to execute his full skillset if he doesn't have to. Well, pragmatic. He's not as phony as he thinks he is, which is even more hilarious.

He uses that behemoth of a car so scarcely because he'd rather have things delivered to his doorstep and he's stingy with gas. Also, he doesn't like traffic and driving because of the traumatic shoulder accident and his tendency to space out. Translation: You drive that thing... that monster... it really is an impressive, fast, and scary machine. 

If someone devious ever even remotely manages to invade his privacy and get past the doubly-installed security system, he has enough money to deal with it no matter what.

If it concerns your privacy, he's a red belt. And owns Jin's number if a taekwondo master is required. Jimin's if it needs someone with kendo skills.

If Yoongi needs someone to go on a complete rampage, Jungkook lives just down the block. He can sprint to Yoongi's bunker I mean mansion within 45 seconds. 30 if it's very urgent. 20 if the reward is an instant ramen splurge with Yoongi's black card.

He has a sexy, glamorous sword collection hanging on the living room wall anyways, so. Who the hell is dumb enough to mess with him and his expensive lawyer in the first place.

But just in case, who knows... Yoongi settles matters shruggingly, anonymously, and with cash and he's too exhausted for violence, but don't underestimate his deter-min-ation and network for emergencies. Also, he is Agust D after all.

He will bonk a naughty burglar or kidnapper across the head with a wooden cooking spoon or take him down by throwing a basketball if the situation requires it. Damn, his reflexes are so fast, a feral cat in motion. So, lean back and sip on your drink of choice. Things are cared for.

If Yoongi is the one being kidnapped or a highly skilled stalker invades the property at night when he's fast asleep (nothing can wake this man during certain hours, strong REM right here): Don't forget that honeyboy is a Dodgers fan. There are signed baseball bats everywhere in this damn house.

In that sense, your parents visiting you here for the first time thought you were an undercover thug couple. Not to worry mom and dad, you both just like sports very much okay.

Yoongi walks around in all black clothes and the rooms are all seemingly dark. Even if you live together, you don't know his skin care routine. It's clear to you he's some sort of vampire.

Since Yoongi always forgets to remove his makeup, you made it a habit to wipe it down when he's about to pass out. He won't lie, he enjoys that kind of affection.

Holly is your resident child. You're essentially a family.

He insists to tackle this by himself, Yoongi sees his therapist monthly. Not shifting responsibility is something he's stubborn about and he pours his emotions into writing. You will do conversation about deeper stuff, but he says it's mostly up to him and his own mind. He dislikes burdening you or opening up too much and it's something to respect rather than force him about. If he wants to share a thought, he will. It doesn’t mean he can’t trust you or sucks at communicating (we know that he’s direct). Yoongi simply can’t put that much pain in such few words nor should you alleviate it for him.

Calls from the manager faze Yoongi as much as Jimin is bothered by gravity. If he’s busy kissing your body slow mo, who the hell dares to disturb his worship. 

This man had so many let-downs and interpersonal catastrophes in his life, he's super discerning with people. Because he rolls that way, during their first meeting Yoongi uses his psychology certificate on your friends. You see him squint at them, he listens very closely. After they pass the vibe check aka meow radar, he befriends them, too.

Yoongi doodles Grammy trophies everywhere to manifest them.

Yoongi shaves his legs.

All the sex toys he’s ever bought are black. Gotta vibe in style.

He spends ridiculous amounts of time in the studio but he's yours for the remainder of the night, breakfast, and he makes a lavish lunch and dinner.

Um, consider his head parked between your legs. The Hongkong line was not a joke.

Doesn’t mind you squishing his cheeks whenever and for how long you like. 

Every other weekend he gets flowers, vouchers, and gifts — not because of fans, they don’t know where his house is, but because he donates so much.

Namjoon often drops by and cleanses the area with his crystals.

Yoongi is a photography major so you can ask him to take professional, ceiling-high black and white shots of you.

Feeding each other food lovingly. Man, this guy got lips.

He set up a library just for you, in the exact historical aesthetic you like the most. Send him the link to any book you want, it's basically in the online shopping cart already. As I said, he wants to make you presents like every week.

Sometimes he sits on the other end studying English videos and vocab while you read. And yes, he's already 95% fluent but pretends being merely intermediate. He knows technical terms even native speakers have never heard of.

He collects pajamas and earrings.

Swears on the phone.

Namjoon being the horniest member is a cover-up story. Yoongi masturbates almost unreasonable amounts of times, by himself and in your arms when going to bed. Not gonna lie, it’s a sight to see his hands at work. He’s almost equally obsessed with fingering you once you ask him.

Yoongi was the one asking you to move in and almost had a nervous meltdown before meeting up with you to tell you just that. 

He’s the little spoon and of course a sleeping burrito to hold tight.

Finds you equally attractive in any state or styling. Yoongi practices what he preaches, he always reacts the same and says the same. 

Jams out to outrageous beats Namjoon sends him by dancing in the studio. You walk in on him every time. Was embarrassed at first, now you dance along.

Has bought you a life-sized Yoongi pillow and customized you a giant Shooky to hug when he’s not at home over night.

Owned a wine cellar until he quit drinking. Turned it into a piano room instead.

Only you know Yoongi has a serpent and dagger tattoo.

Scrubs the bathroom religiously.

The house smells like restaurant food and his extravagant perfumes half of the time.

Sometimes he has to remind himself he’s married to you and not his coffee machine. He shall be forgiven. You can’t complain that he doesn’t love you enough, nor is he ever not adorable when drinking his latte.

Never wears short sleeves. It can be scorching and he’ll wear a jacket. 

Tell him and the cap stays on during sex.

He grows his hair out and puts it in a low bun. The bangs remain.

Yoongi has installed the most fire-proof building in the entire city it seems. That he wanted to be a firefighter when he was young definitely shows. Figures the house has to be protected from heat: His blasting studio music and Yoongi himself are just way too sizzling.

Still melts into a puddle when you kiss his nose.

Couple sunrise watching. 

© submissive-bangtan 2017-2021. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate. all depictions fictional.

[sweetrabbit]

admire from afar

pairings: Yang Jeongin x fem!Reader (and a little Lee Heeseung x reader)

genre: angst, unrequited, trainees to idols

summary: did Jeongin know this was how it would play out? did he know both their dreams of becoming idols would come true but it didn’t mean he would be by her side, but from afar?

warning/s: jealousy thats abt it i think

a/n: i know i don’t really write for idols but i really like how this played out so i hope any Stays will enjoy this!

“i’m sorry Jeongin, i don’t think this’ll work out.” those words ran through the poor boys head, but the only thing that yelled louder was the fact that she had called him ‘Jeongin’.

“i’ll be there at the sides watching you, okay? i hope we’re still friends after this.” she stood looking at his tall figure hoping to catch a glimpse of his dashing smile for comfort.

“oh… okay yeah.” he looked down holding back tears. this wasn’t easy for any of them, and it was gonna be even harder considering they share the same friend group.

“uh.. see you later, Innie.”

as he wished that nickname brought back butterflies and a soft smile like it did before, it only left his heart to crack while her figure retraced back to the building.

and like that trainee days came by a flash, now he was celebrating debuting with his friends and members, he watched the door all night hoping she’d come to at least celebrate with him, congratulate him but midnight struck and he was back at his dorm.

ding.

— ๑ —

my ynie <3: congrats on debuting Innie! i knew you could do it! :)

sorry i couldn’t come by, i had a bad headache :(

innie ^^: thank you yn! i really appreciate it :) i hope your headache is better now, we should hang out sometime!

my ynie <3: i’d love to! my treat as a congratulations, you can choose

ah i have to sleep now you know how training is, goodnight Innie, congrats again!

innie^^: oh goodnight yn, i’ll let you know when i’m free :)

— ๑ —

his eyes scanned the screen of his phone, a small smile appearing ever so gently realizing, he never changed her nickname.

and years had passed since that conversation, now JYP’s new girl group, CUPID had debuted, her group, and he was the happiest for her.

passing congratulations and going to a restaurant, his treat this time, for congratulations.

he was delighted to see her across the hauls no matter the tight schedule, even try to sneak a few glances at the room she practiced in.

till one day a new group set foot at the JYP building, but they weren’t even under JYP, they were HYBE’s k-pop boy group, ENHYPEN.

what were they doing here? they looked like lost puppies at the lobby.

“ah you’re arrived, sorry for making you wait a little, i’ll escort you to the practice room.” and her cherry voice rang.

“oh no it’s fine we didn’t wait that long, in fact we just got here.” Heeseung stumbled between his words causing his members to snicker behind him. his heart tugged as he watched her look at Heeseung with the same admiration she did when they were trainees.

and every time he passed by her practice room it was always filled with laughs and giggles, and he was jealous, it was supposed to be him.

but he never thought he’d catch a glimpse of Yn and Heeseung holding hands and smiling at each other, conversing about whatever topic was up in the air.

oh he was furious, he was just as good as Heeseung, actually he was better. the most adoring smile, has the cutest dimples, and he had known her far longer than he has, he was always there in her ups and downs, when she cried because she thought she’d become a terrible leader, he was there to comfort her, he was the one that took her on a date as a debut celebration, not Heeseung.

but alas, he should’ve known it wasn’t the two of them that was gonna rule the world. he was too blinded by the jealousy, he failed to check every small detail, of the way her eyes sparkled brighter when she was with Heeseung, the way her grin grew wider when he’d bought her flowers and the pink that dusted on their cheeks prying away clammy hands once the couple had realized Jeongin’s presence.

had he realized the similarities between him and Heeseung? did this situation feel familiar to when Beomgyu had walked in on them being lovey dovey? most likely not, and sure it would take some time for him to finally let go of what they had in trainee days, they were only young and naive.

he couldn’t do anything but admire her from afar.

-

taglist: @i2abella

[darling-i-read-it]

Hug

Pelle x reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Danis grief and the things that come with that (crying, heaviness) 

Author’s Note: this was not on my list of things I wanted to write and yet 

I feel held by him okay 

Summary: You and Pelle meet through Dani and Christian (man I suck at summaries) 

Song: Run by Hozier

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director 

(not my gif)

Dani liked you. She liked you a lot. You made her feel sane and that helped her in more ways than one. She liked the fact that you would always listen to her and tell her that she was right, even when she was wrong. She liked that your eyes never once flitted away from her when she spoke. She liked that you understood her grief in a way that most people would never try to. 

She almost had no desire to introduce you to Christian. She loved Christian, she really did, but you didn’t need to meet her boyfriend. 

Dani thought, even though you did appreciate her that you would never understand the way that he loved Christian. Maybe she didn’t even understand it. 

In any event, she wouldn’t be able to explain in an adequate way. 

But still, you pushed.

You were hanging out with her, in her room. She was walking around the room numbly, trying to understand why her head never seemed to be wrapped around the room when people were speaking. A sorrow was still hanging over her. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked. You were sitting on her desk, watching her anxiously pace back and forth. 

“No.” She stopped walking. “I’m sorry, that was blunt.” You shook your head. 

“Don’t worry about it. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want,” you told her evenly. Dani walked up to you and sat down at the chair in front of you. She felt a little more clear headed with you. It helped to be around people sometimes. Tears started to well up in her eyes but she quickly shook them away.

“Christian has been distant lately. I don’t know how to tell him I still need him without being...needy,” she said, avoiding your eyes.

“He should understand.” You gave her a narrow look and she sighed. 

“Yeah yeah. I know you wanna meet him.” 

“I just wanna learn about this guy who supposedly has absolute zero ability to read his girlfriends moods.” She sighed.

“You wanna meet him? Alright. You can meet him. But his friends will probably be there and if you don’t wanna-”

“I’d love to meet his friends as well. You can tell a lot about a person based on the company that they keep.” 

====

“This is Y/N. Y/N this is Christian, Mark, Josh and Pelle.” You shook their hands, a kind smile on your face. Mark eyed you for a second longer than he should have and you weren’t sure how to feel about them as a whole. A very basic group of boys that may not be all that they seemed. You were all at Christians place which was dirty. Clothes were on the floor and most of his books were strewn around. There was food on the kitchen counters. 

You ignored your initial thoughts and waved slyly.

“Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you all.” Truth be told, you didn’t know much about any of them but Christian. You barely knew their names to faces. 

“You’re the only friend of Dani’s we hear about. You go to school here too right?” Josh asked. You nodded.

“Yes. It’s how Dani and I met.” Your eyes looked around the four of them and surveyed their expression. The man at the end, Pelle, had a very neutral and soft looking expression on his face. You admired him immediately. 

But you ignored that so that you were able to assess Christian better. 

“Now Christian, I think it’s about time I teach you how to treat your girlfriend,” you teased gently and the guys raised their eyebrows. Mark patted Christians back.

“She’s got her guns out. How are you going to respond?!” Mark asked loudly. Christian was laughing and so were you but you had been serious. He was a terrible boyfriend. If they had classes on how to be a decent boyfriend, you would force him to take them, for Dani’s sake. 

“You’re Dani’s friend which means you are my friend,” he said finally. Your lips twitched and you nodded slowly. “Can I offer you anything to drink?” 

“No, thank you though.” Dani sat down at the living room area and the boys quickly followed. Her and Christian were on the love seat, Mark in one of the chairs and you, Pelle and Josh on the couch. You were sitting beside Pelle on the left. 

He smelled good. 

“How is school treating you?” he asked. You turned to him, pleased to hear that his voice was as soothing as he looked. He had an accent you couldn’t place - you were hopeless with accents. 

“Well! At this rate, I should get through finals with only a few scratches here and there,” you told him. 

You could hear that Mark had asked Christian a question and they were having a conversation off to the side. 

“How about you?” you asked.

“Good, just about as good as you. I wonder, maybe if we have any teachers in common,” he suggested. You nodded. 

“It’s entirely possible. What are you studying?” 

“I’m in the Anthropology department.” 

“We may overlap. I’ll have to check your schedule.” 

Dani gave you a look but your eyes were not on her. She couldn’t distinguish what you and Pelle were saying because your voices were so calm while the other boys were booming. She was only a few feet away and still...whatever you were laughing about was lost on her.

====

You didn’t stay long. Dani and you had to get back so that you were able to study for finals. And by that, it was usually you studying with her in the room so she had someone to keep her in check. You didn’t mind. 

“You and Pelle seemed to get along well,” she noted. 

“I was there to make sure Christian seemed like a decent human,” you told her. 

“And?” You thought about it for a moment and she was right. You had talked to Pelle almost exclusively. 

“Pelle was really nice,” you conceded. She laughed gently. At least you were able to be honest with her. 

“I think he likes you. He’s a Swedish exchange student, if he didn’t tell you.” 

“That’s where the accent is from! It was bugging me. I was about to start speaking to Google,” you said laughing. She rolled her eyes playfully.

“You could have just asked him.”

“I didn’t know if it was inappropriate!” 

======

You ran your hand through your hair as you walked around your little apartment. It had about everything you could ever need and you loved it. Dani was sleeping on the couch you had managed to squeeze in. 

There was a knock at your door. 

You checked the clock on the wall and furrowed your brows in confusion. It was still pretty early in the day. You had to go to class soon.

You opened the door and Pelle stood in front of you, a kind smile on his face. 

“Pelle! What a nice surprise,” you whispered. He looked confused as to your whisper and you opened the door enough to show Dani sound asleep. He nodded understandingly. 

“I hope this isn’t inappropriate,” he said, in the same hushed tone.

“No, no. Although I do have to go to class soon. What is it?” You leaned against the doorframe.

“I thought our conversation the other day was really nice.” He paused for a minute, thinking over his words. You waited patiently. “I would like to take you out for coffee.” 

You were a bit surprised that he had come all the way to your apartment to tell you that. You assumed that Christian had given him the address. He had it so he knew where Dani was, she had given it to him. 

“I would like that very much. Although, you could have just called,” you said smiling.

“I prefer in person. I think it’s more personal.” You nodded but turned around, grabbing a pen off of your desk. You grabbed his hand and scribbled your number onto his palm.

“For when you want to tell me where to meet you.” He smiled and nodded once, pleasantly. 

“Until then.” 

“Until then.” 

====

Pelle called you that night to tell you where to meet him for coffee. You were pleased and excited. Dani woke up the next morning when you were getting ready to leave. It was Saturday so you didn’t have any classes to attend and you figured you were due a break from studying. 

“Where are you going?” she asked groggily. You cleaned up your bed and turned to her on the couch.

“I have a coffee date,” you said honestly. 

She raised her head up off the pillow and rubbed her eyes.

“Oh?” You nodded, fixing your hair in the mirror. You looked yourself over and nodded nervously at yourself. You looked good. You hoped it wasn’t too much for just a coffee date. “Care to share who it’s with?” 

You sheepishly looked at her through the mirror. 

“Pelle,” you said quietly. She laughed heartily. It was the first time you had heard her actually laugh in weeks. 

“Pelle?” 

“Yes. Go back to bed. I’ll probably be back before you get up.” She laid her head back down. 

“Have fun at your coffee date!” she called but her voice was muffled by the pillow. 

====

“Yes! I told Dani that but she doesn’t believe me. I don’t know, I think maybe we’re all a little too hard on her.”

The coffee date was going swimmingly. Pelle was funny and he was also able to give you good advice. You were amazed at his kind heart.

As for his feelings for you, he loved you. Dani had spoken about you and your kind heart before but he never thought you would be like this. He never thought he would love you this much so instantly. You were charming and honest and there was some quip left in you. He admired your qualities and was pleased to find that you liked him as well. 

He could never be sure but he thought you may like it back at his home. 

“You’re being a very good friend. Better than most,” he said honestly. He reached a hand forward and laid it on your hands which were sitting on the table. Both of your cups were empty. You looked down at his hand on yours and attempted to suppress your emotions. 

“Thank you Pelle.” 

You moved your hands apart so they were holding his hand between them. He smiled a bit, sheepishly. 

“I really enjoyed this.”

“I did as well.” 

You were very pleased to hear it wasn’t one sided. 

You both stood up and started for the door. His hand still held yours. It was within walking distance of both of your homes but in opposite directions. Before parting he turned to face you. You smiled up at him, trying your very hardest to not let him know how much you had enjoyed the date. 

That was when your phone rang. Your smile fell and you had to know who it was calling. 

Dani. 

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t worry. I will wait.” 

You picked up the phone and put it to your ear.

“Yes?”

“I-I need you.” She was crying. She didn’t like to ask for help so this must have been serious. You nodded stiffly.

“I will be there in a couple minutes. Hold on,” you said kindly. You hung up the phone and turned to him. “Dani needs me, I’m sorry.” He shook his head and before you could say another word, he was hugging you. 

You had thought he might kiss you but this was almost better. It was almost for sure better than a kiss. His arms engulfed your body and held you tightly. He was wearing a soft sweater and it felt so nice against your face. He smelled like herbs and trees. You hugged him back, tightly. He had his hand on the back of your head and he gently kissed your shoulder. 

He pulled away ever so slightly and kissed you softly. You had to pull away to smile. 

“I’ll see you soon Pelle.” He nodded and you were about to walk away when he strengthened his hold on you. 

“Mark, Josh, Christian and I are going to take a trip back to my home in Sweden for the summer. Dani will likely be invited too. Would you like to come?”

[dragonsareourfuture]

Mammon/GN!Reader — Safe

⚠️Warnings: emotional distress (caused by Lucifer) and swearing. If you are sensitive to these, please do not go further.

Sometimes I get fed up with how the brothers, mainly Lucifer, treat Mammon. I hate the “punishments” Lucifer gives him and how it’s just brushed off. I desperately want to hold the poor man when it becomes too much for him, so here’s possibly the most serious Obey Me oneshot I’ve ever written to help me cope with not being able to do just that. Begins as angst and evolves into fluff.

You feel terrible, but there is really nothing you can do but clean up the pieces.

Another night, another sleep interrupted by shouts echoing off the corridors of the House of Lamentation. You wish Lucifer would dial it back at least some nights. Hell knows that you’re not the only one whose sleep schedule is suffering just so he can punish his younger brother — then again, only half of the inhabitants of the house actually have a sleep schedule. Curse this entire house for its innate ability to let sound travel so fucking easily.

You groan, rolling to the other side of the bed in a feeble attempt to distance your body from the noise at least a little. It, unsurprisingly, does nothing and you can still hear the incessant booms of Lucifer’s thunderous voice. A pang of guilt bubbles in your chest. How could you be complaining when poor Mammon is the one who has to endure it all? It just doesn’t sit right with you, especially knowing that if you interfered you might have the slightest possibility of putting a stop to the ill treatment of the second born.

Even so, you can’t exactly blame yourself for being wary. Lucifer has tried to kill you on multiple occasions for doing just the thing you are contemplating. You figure you can let yourself off the hook for that one, just this once.

Miraculously, that one conclusion fails to ease that feeling of uneasiness lingering in your stomach. Fists clench around your pillowcase, nose digging into your soft mattress, your patience wears thinner by the second. Your limbs even twitch in an attempt begin rising and deal with the situation after all — but then the noises cease.

The room sounds eerily quiet. Not even the air conditioning is blasting anymore. You yawn, wondering if your ears had just popped. They had not. You snap your fingers. You can hear that just fine. So, you’re not going deaf. Okay, that’s a good sign, at least. You sit up and gaze around the pitch darkness of your bedroom. Nothing stirs — inside the room, that is.

Outside, however, you can hear the distant clomp of footsteps growing closer to your sealed bedroom door. You know who it is immediately, not bothering to lay back down and attempt to sleep, not even considering it. You sit up, feet hitting the floor soon after as you pad your way over to the door. You swing it open just as the footsteps stop right outside your room.

Mammon stands, fist held up in the air as if he was just about to knock on the polished wood. He blinks a couple of times, and you notice the gentle shine to his eyes and eyelids.

“Ya said that I could come...if I needed anything,” the demon croaks. All power that he ever seemed to hold over you had vanished all too suddenly and, rather than relishing in the feeling, all you can do is nod and step aside to allow him passage into your room.

“Of course, come on in,” you say delicately. The last thing you want is to be too coddling, for he might sense that as a personal threat and duck out. But you allow your instinct to care for him shine through with your soft tone. He apparently doesn’t feel that you are babying him too much, as he trudges through your threshold like a defeated puppy. It sincerely breaks your heart.

“I want you to know that you’re welcome to stop by any time you need to,” You had told him earlier that week.

The intrusive demon had never used your welcome for anything besides barging in to hang out at any and all hours, but now, with this clear predicament weighing down on him as heavy as the earth, you feel deeply touched that your words actually got through to him back then. He felt that he could trust you, which is why he is here now and not sulking in his room as he used to do after a particularly brutal scolding.

You shut the door behind him as he makes his entry, watching carefully as he shuffles around your room as if confused on what to do next. His hesitant nature directly contrasts how he would usually waltz in and make himself comfortable. You contemplate locking the door. It would be completely counterproductive if Lucifer or one of the other brothers forced their way in and made the situation way worse. But, at the same time, you would hate to make him feel uneasy, like you’re trapping him in with no way out. You opt to keep the door unlocked.

You pay close attention to Mammon’s features now, shrouded by the dark, sure, but you can make them out almost perfectly. You like to look at his face — it’s pretty, and you don’t bother to keep yourself from doing so. As a result, you can see all his ticks no matter how difficult it may be from the angle, lighting, etcetera. He often scrunches up his nose when he’s irritated, or on he verge of tears. So, seeing his nose twitch as he looks around your room is no surprise to you.

You step closer to his shifting form, and Mammon seems to get even more uncomfortable, so you move back. You rest your arms at your sides, making their positions known so that he won’t fret about the possibility of you hitting him by surprise. You would never, you know this, but Mammon isn’t aware that loved ones shouldn’t ‘lay down the law’ as harshly as Lucifer does.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask slowly, keeping your voice steady and calm.

Mammon’s hands slide into the pockets of his jeans. He shakes his head, the snowy white fringe covering his eyes shaking along with the movements. You nod, understanding his silence. Understanding that if he so much as opened his mouth to answer, a sob might find its way through instead. Even though he trusts you, you suspect that The Great Mammon isn’t keen on letting his human see him in tears.

“Mams, I won’t judge you if you cry. We all have to let off some steam every once in a while,” you reason, voice straining to keep from pleading but failing as your emotions get the better of you. “I love you all the same.”

Mammon hides his face from you, but the telltale sign of his shoulders bouncing up and down tell you that you need to step in. Your hands brush against his shoulders and he jolts. Though a shock runs through your heart at the sight, you simply have to make sure he knows that you’re there for him. You’re not going to let him cry alone in your bedroom when you’re right there beside him. Your grip becomes a bit more forceful now, only enough to turn the Avatar of Greed around by his broad shoulder and pull him close to your body.

With the contact, Mammon feels free to let go completely. Sobs wrack his entire body as you hold him steady. The intensity of them startled you but not as much as the volume. His head is buried in your shoulder, right next to your ear and you are spared no shout nor whine that comes out of the demon’s mouth. This combined with his heavy weight pressing you down tells you that it’s time to change positions.

You gently nudge Mammon into standing up straight, leading him by his hands to your bed, still warm with your body heat from when you had tried to hunker down earlier. He wastes no time at all in pulling you down with him, arms locked tight around your waist while his tear-stained face nuzzles itself into your chest. It’ll leave stains, but you couldn’t care less at the moment. Instead you marvel at how much pent-up emotions Mammon let sit stewing in his head before now. Clear sorrow, evident by the tears now soaking into your night shirt. Anger and desperation, demonstrated by how tightly he clamps around your body, though you can tell he is still somehow holding back, determined not to crush you even in this fit of pure, raw emotion. And all of this caused by a family member. It’s enough to make you seethe, but revenge for Mammon’s sake is not the focus. Right now, his comfort and consolation is all you need to worry about.

You rake your hands through Mammon’s head of ivory hair, brushing it out with your fingers and noting the softness. You plant a frenzy of kisses atop his head, the last one lingering before you lean close to his ear. “That’s it, let it all out...you’re alright now...I’m here.”

Your demon’s cries have, at the very least, calmed a smidge. He shakes less in your grasp but his head remains pressed flush against your chest. You take it upon yourself to ease him further, the hand that held his back sliding down and slipping beneath his ebony-colored shirt. You trace the curve of his spine, relishing in the way it feels against your fingers. He’s more slim than the majority of his brothers, and you absolutely adore it. You get to the dip of Mammon’s lower back and your fingertips nearly move on their own to run over the dimples back there. Warm breath spreads over your chest as the demon cradled in your arms lets out something delightfully close to a laugh.

Your lips quirk upwards in a smile at your accomplishment. Mammon has calmed down enough to where low whines and wheezes are all he emits now. These eventually transform into hums, then snores. You keep Mammon’s face pressed against you — you grew to appreciate his radiating body heat in that area — but moved his mouth and nose away to be sure he wouldn’t suffocate.

Before lying back and drifting off yourself, you wipe some of the excess tears from his cheek and under his eyelids, pressing the gentlest kiss you can produce onto his tanned cheek. Mammon’s eyes only crinkle for a second before his features flatten again with the tranquility of sleep.

Opting to get some sleep of your own, you rest your head finally to your pillow, huffing a great sigh with the contact. As sleep pulls you in, you silently curse the monster that could do this to your baby, dreaming up the most vile plots for your revenge during your outwardly peaceful slumber. But that could be handled another day, preferably whenever Lucifer least expects it.

You wake up before Mammon’s eyes ever begin to crack open. Your position had changed slightly over the course of the night, but most factors still remain the same. Your demon’s face is now in the crook of your neck, steady and cool breaths fanning over your skin, making you shiver. His arm is draped over your stomach as you lay on your back, the other arm tucked underneath him. You want to pull it out from under him — the pins and needles should be bad when he wakes — but you’re determined to let him sleep longer after the night he just had.

Your goal is met, and you lay with him for what feels like a few more hours. You aren’t completely conscious, fading in and out of the realm of sleep every few minutes it seems. Noises begin to sound off outside your bedroom — doors opening and closing, footsteps on the staircase, and eventual chatter from the first floor. People are starting their days like nothing ever happened.

You hope it isn’t the noise that stirs Mammon from his heavy slumber. His eyebrows furrow and a light groan seeps past his parted lips. His head shakes, as if his sleepy self is wondering why his movements are so restricted. If that is the case, you loosen your hold around him. After a few seconds, the Avatar of Greed’s snowy white eyelashes flutter against your neck as his eyes force themselves open.

You pull away to greet him with your smiling face. “Morning, sunshine,” you say, voice coming out in less than a mere whisper as your throat is still rough from sleep.

Mammon’s features flood with realization, an alarmingly dark blush spreading across his nose and cheeks, some even reaching his ears and neck. You wish you could wake up to this face every single day.

“M-m-mornin’...” he tries, stuffing his face in your pillow in an attempt to quell the blood rushing to his face. Your chuckle at this action only makes it worse.

“Everyone’s getting up right about now,” you tell him, your hands finding their way up to his incredibly soft head of hair, twirling a couple strands around your index finger as you speak, “Do you want me to go make you some breakfast and bring it up here for you?”

“Gah!” Mammon jolts, eyes losing their sleepiness immediately to stare at you in disbelief. “Y-y-you’d do that!?”

“Of course!” You pull your torso off the bed, accentuating your declaration, and leaning on your elbows for support. “I’m not gonna make you go down there and face your brothers if you’re not comfortable with it.”

“Oh...yeah...yeah, that sounds real nice. T-the Great Mammon appreciates your service!”

You jokingly roll your eyes, heaving your body all the way up to start dressing yourself. “I’m sure he does.” You halt all movements when pressure suddenly builds around your wrist, constricting and pulling you back before you can stand.

You look back, a worried-looking Mammon staring at you with wide eyes and upturned brows. He seems to catch himself, hanging his head a bit and sinking into the bedsheets. “B-before you do that...do you think you can stay a bit longer?”

You are about to comply with Mammon’s request, positively falling victim to the pleading look he shoots you, when a loud rumble breaks the brief silence. Mammon whines and clutches his stomach, concealing his face with your sheets.

“How about I get you some breakfast, then I’ll come back and we can cuddle all morning. Does that sound good?”

Your demon peeks an eye out from under the covers, white hair bobbing up and down in an affirmative nod. You smile, getting up and slipping on some shorts to go with your nightshirt. You make it to the door, hand on the handle when you turn to ask your sleepy demon a question.

“So, did you have anything in mind? You’ve got your spicy noodles—“

“Wait! I’m saving those! It’s my last cup and Lucifer says we’re not going to the store in a week! Not...ya know, not that I’m scared of him!” He perks up, sheets cascading down his torso.

“I can always make a quick run to the store. Lucifer’s words aren’t law.”

Mammon looks hesitant. He shakes his head and grabs at the sheets to pull them back up his body. “No, no, I’ll take a sandwich. Beel bought some Melancholy berry jam the other day and hasn’t eaten it all yet. Some of that with peanut butter would be great...”

“Not a problem. Oh, and do you want toasted bread?”

Mammon hugs your pillow. You suspect he’s getting weirded out by being asked all of these questions about his own preferences. Not a lot of demons seem to take them into account on a regular basis, after all. “U-um, that sounds good... and ... ugh, never mind!”

“What is it?”

He struggles with his words for a moment before asking, rather rushed, “Could you cut off the crusts, too?”

You have to brace yourself on the door handle to not collapse at how incredibly adorable that request is. Nevertheless, you can tell he is embarrassed and decide not to tease him too much. That could be done later, when he isn’t in such a vulnerable state of mind. You nod, chirping a quick ‘Sure, sweetheart’ before exiting and closing the door behind you.

Heading downstairs feels like squaring up for a fight. Deep down you know you can’t do much, Mammon would be crushed if you got in trouble with Lucifer for his sake, but you won’t be pleasant, either. You cringe at yourself, unable to handle the empty threats you seem to have in abundance inside your brain.

You can’t give most of the brothers the cold shoulder, that much you know. It wasn’t them that forced Mammon to tears the previous night with nothing but their words and whatever other hells Mammon was forced to endure. No, only Lucifer deserves your passive aggressive wrath today.

Luckily for you, there are only a few of the brothers remaining in the kitchen instead of waiting at the table already, one of those few being Lucifer himself who stands against the counter with a mug of coffee pressed to his lips. Satan and Beel are present as well, Beel rummaging through the pantry and fridge while Satan watches with what looks like mild amusement.

“Morning,” you greet the two younger brothers, going out of your way to make as little eye contact with Lucifer as possible. Whether he picks up on this, you can’t tell, but you can sense the change in atmosphere as you open the fridge and dig around for the jam Mammon wants.

“(Name). Is something wrong?” A deep voice inquires and, as you deduct that voice to be Beel’s, you look over your shoulder, offering a smile.

“Can’t possibly imagine why there’d be something wrong.” Wrong with you at least.

“Are you sure? You seem...off,” Satan inquires, as curious and considerate as ever.

You head over to the pantry, now with the jam in hand, and search for the peanut butter. A soft ‘ah!’ escapes you as your hand closes around the jar as well as a loaf of bread and you make your way over to the cutting board.

“I’m cool,” you deadpan. The younger brothers remain silent after you hear them shift a bit.

You begin to prepare the sandwich, daring not to turn around when the sound of footsteps approaching you invades your ears. All too suddenly there is a looming presence behind you, peering over your shoulder and radiating the most intense energy you’ve ever felt.

“What.” You say. It is not a question, but a demand. You still do not meet the eldest brother’s eyes.

You hear fabric shift and body heat warm your skin as Lucifer leans down to speak quietly enough so that his brother’s can’t hear. “It is for his own good. He will never learn if he is not properly disciplined.”

Your blood begins to boil. You raise your voice to him, completely disregarding Lucifer’s attempts to keep his brothers out of the situation as you do. “You know you can ‘properly discipline’ him without hurting him, right? What kind of brother are you?”

You leave it at that, throwing the rest of the sandwich together quickly before storming out of there. But wait...you stop in your tracks and stare down at the sandwich with defeated eyes. You forgot to cut off the crusts, dammit!

So, throwing your opportunity for a badass exit out the window, you march right back into the kitchen, tear open a drawer to grab a knife, and chop every single crust from the bread — all while the three brothers stare at you in both confusion and awe.

As you go to leave again, Satan finds the will to speak up. “Where are you going?”

“To my room.” You hold up the now crust-less sandwich. “The Great Mammon’s gotta eat.”

“But it’s your turn to make breakfast for everyone!” Beel whines, clutching at his stomach helplessly.

Again, you pause. Your fight leaves you and you approach the gentle giant upon seeing him look at you with such sorrow. You know how important food is to him.

“I’ll call for delivery from Hell’s Kitchen. Just round up everyone’s order and text it to me. Is that okay?”

Beelzebub nods enthusiastically and you pat his head, then turn on your heel to head back up to your room. You feel eyes on you as you walk away and, if you weren’t so fired up right now, you might take that as a compliment. But you know it’s Lucifer. You know it’s him even as the presence behind you follows you out into the hallway.

“I don’t like being followed.” You state in a bored tone.

“You don’t have to treat him like a child, you know. He can take care of himself.”

“I don’t want to let him take care of himself. I’m gonna be there for him when his brothers are being assholes.”

Lucifer looks taken aback. You don’t curse at them, you just don’t. Unless you’re joking, you never speak ill to them no matter what. And you didn’t to Beel or Satan. Even in your fired state you calmed enough to treat them as you normally would, with kindness and compassion. It is him you have the grudge against right now, and Lucifer’s brain can’t seem to accept or handle the fact that this is because of your protectiveness over his younger sibling.

“You won’t be here forever, you know.” Lucifer knows he crossed a line, but he can’t seem to stop himself. “He will need to fight his own battles eventually.”

“How about you give him less battles to fight, hmm?”

Lucifer seems to have nothing left to say. Taking his silence as an invitation to leave, you do just that and start up the stairs to your bedroom.

“Oh, and by the way,” you begin, stopping midway up the staircase to address the short circuiting demon you left in the hallway, “I may not be in this world as long as you guys will, but if you even touch him after I’m gone, my ghost will fuck you up.”

You make your final leave, Mammon’s breakfast in hand and a smile lining your face as you prepare to greet your greedy little demon.

[sochilll]

October 19 - “You’ve got leaves in your hair.”

Day 18 Day 20 All Days (Prompt list)

Jared was in love with Evan. Whatever. Old news. Except that it kept hitting him over and over. He’d just be going about his day and Evan would do something and Jared would just be smacked in the face with it again.

“Hey,” Evan’s head appeared over the edge of Jared’s loft bed. “Do you want to come tour campus with me?”

Jared had finished unpacking yesterday afternoon and hadn’t gotten out of bed since. “Not really.”

“Come on.” Evan made puppy dog eyes. It wasn’t even intentional, that was the worst part. “I wanna find my classes before Monday.”

Living with Evan had been a mistake. But Jared couldn’t think of any way that he could explain to his mom why they wouldn’t share a dorm if they were going to the same college.

“I’ll buy you lunch.” Evan offered.

Jared groaned, dragging himself into a sitting position. “Fine. Okay I’ll go.”

Evan grinned and there it was again. Smack.

The campus was big. Jared was definitely going to get lost once or twice this week. Evan would probably be fine. He was unnaturally good at navigation. Jared was terrible with directions. He still got lost in their hometown sometimes.

The walkways were lined with trees, their leaves fading to orange and yellow. Some of the leaves were scattered across the grass and concrete but most were still clinging to their branches.

“I think my bio class is that way.” Evan was squinting at the map they’d gotten at orientation like a loser.

“Can you look less like a freshman please?”

Evan frowned at him. “I am a freshman.”

God, he was so stupid. Jared wanted to kiss him.

“No one else is carrying a map.” Jared pointed out.

Evan looked around. He smiled. “At least our moms aren’t still here.” He nodded toward a boy standing by the bookstore looking absolutely humiliated while his mom flipped through a huge binder.

Jared laughed. “Fair point. As long as we can see that guy, you are not the lamest person on campus.”

Evan beamed like that was a real compliment. Smack. “Come on. I wanna find my stats class.”

“Why are you talking stats?” Jared wrinkled his nose.

Evan shrugged, leading the way down a path between two buildings. “Seemed like the least terrible math class. There it is.” He pointed to a red brick building.

The wind picked up, making Jared shiver in his sweatshirt and sending leaves flying through the air.

“I think my calc class is in this building too. When do you have stats?”

“Mondays and Wednesdays at eleven.”

“Mm. I have calc Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

“Oh. Hey when do you have that class-“ Evan trailed off, smiling slightly at Jared.

“What?” Jared demanded.

Evan met Jared’s eyes, still smiling. “You’ve got leaves in your hair.”

Jared ran a hand through his hair quickly.

Evan shook his head. “Can I just…?”

Jared shrugged like he didn’t care. Evan stepped forward and pulled a few leaves out of Jared’s hair. Jared watched them flutter to the ground. Evan picked out the last leaf and then fixed Jared’s hair a little.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

“All good.” Evan smiled. “Okay.” He was already looking at the map again. “I think my lit class is like on the completely other side of campus.” He spun around, squinted at a building, turned around again, and then started walking. “It’s this way!”

“Wait, what were you gonna say?” Jared jogged to catch up to him.

“Oh. When do you have that class about like mythology or whatever? We never found out if we’re in the same section.”

“Right. Hang on.” Jared dug out his phone and pulled up his schedule. “Tuesday and Thursday at nine?”

“Yeah.” Evan smiled, still studying his map. “Cool so we have that one together.”

“Cool. So when I wanna sleep in, you can take notes for me.”

Evan finally looked up to roll his eyes at Jared. “Not gonna happen.”

“Oh I think it will.” Jared pulled the map out of Evan’s hands. He quickly pointed to each building he had a class in. “One two three four five. I’m done. Lunch time.”

Evan sighed but folded the map up and stuck it in his back pocket.

There were a few restaurants on campus that they scoped out before settling on pizza. Jared found them a booth while Evan ordered and paid.

“Fifteen minutes.” Evan said, sliding into the booth across from Jared. He pushed Jared’s drink across the table.

“Thanks.” Jared took a drink. “What’s the over-under on you having a breakdown on the first day?”

Evan tilted his head. “What does over-under even mean?”

“No idea.” Jared shrugged. “Just thought it sounded cool.”

Evan laughed. Smack. “I actually feel okay. Surprisingly.” He leaned back in his seat. “I feel like I’ll survive.”

“That is very shocking.” Jared said, planting his elbows on the table. “Why? Did you find the cure to anxiety? I’m sure the internet would like to know.”

Evan smiled. “No. Definitely not that.” He shrugged, picking at the part where his seat was cracking. “I don’t know. I think it’s just all the research I did, and touring, and…” He flushed slightly. “You being here… helps.”

“Hmm. Noted. I was trying to make things worse.”

Evan snorted. “Whatever. You like being helpful.”

“I do not.”

“You do too. You love feeling useful and needed.” Evan said it casually. This wasn’t a serious conversation, they were just joking. He had no idea how close he was to completely unraveling Jared’s whole identity.

“I like being left alone.”

“Me too.” Evan looked up as his name was called from the front. He got up from the booth. “You don’t count though. I don’t get tired of you. Usually.” He walked off to get their food.

Smack.

[silksaddle]

The Traveler 2

Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x f!reader Western AU

Chapter summary: 1907, Old West. Talk of the Statesman gang is slowly on the rise while Jack continues to distract you from your chores, taking you on another but entirely different night-time outing. 

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, language, guns, mentions of alcohol and gangs, copious flirting, SMUT, oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex/piv sex, outdoor sex, thigh spanking, please pardon me for the amount of smut content in this chapter, a crumb of plot development, Jack Daniels again...

Word count: 14k (leave me alone)

A/N: gif credit to @javier-pena once again! thank you my beloved astrid! and as always, much love to my amazing friends who sent me inspo posts and listened to my anxious ramblings about god-knows-what. you are all the best and you have my heart.

Read Chapter One ~ Series Masterlist

Chapter Two: Six Shooter

Jack is spreading his half-naked body over the mattress in a contented stretch when you return to the bedroom, flustered and hot-cheeked.

“You here to take my sheets, darlin’? I must insist I keep ‘em,” he chortles, turning his bright face over the soft pillow as you attempt stripping the sheets from under him, your lungs emptying in a huff when he catches your wrist and draws you to him instead. Your body lands perfectly on top of his with your weak protest, a poor match for his irresistibly gravel-like voice and his buzzing snugness.

“You’re making my job quite difficult,” you mumble into his neck, kissing the smooth skin there although your words are much more harsh. His chest rumbles, fingers running the length of your clothed back from when he’d hurriedly laced you back into your dress, lips skimming graceful but mindless lines on your temple.

“Mrs. Adler thinks you’re doing your chores.” Jack’s palms are now ghosting over your shoulders as you prop yourself up on your elbows, taking his gaze with you as you move, and you can tell your dilating pupils are betraying the falseness of your annoyed tone when you look at his expanding chest. He takes a deep breath in, the angle of morning light catching his eyes just right to melt them into golden flecks, his dishevelled hair incurable without a bath. 

You card your fingers through, and though it’s slightly tangled, the texture is silky enough to brush through the messy state and straighten it out, just a smidge. The touch causes his eyes to flutter closed, and shimmying up his body, he leans his head back to expose his neck further, the long lines and tone popping against each other. His breath hitches when he feels your own puffing across it, his chest immobile while he waits to feel something more from you, but you don’t kiss him, don’t nip him, don’t caress him there.

“I’ve only come to take your sheets to wash them— I should already be downstairs,” you insist and he mopes, your voice softly carrying throughout the bright bedroom, limbs absent-mindedly wrapping around his firm ones until he clings to you.

“Oh,” he hums, tipping his body until you roll under him onto the no-longer-fresh sheets, landing on your back with his hands cradling your head. His handsome smile makes you forget you ever needed to take his sheets in the first place, and when he kisses you deeply, moaning low when you open up for him and his bare skin slides over you, you don’t even remember where you are. “Thought you’d wanted some more of me…”

“Mmm, Jack— she’s already a little suspicious of me,” you giggle, wriggling underneath his heavy weight and it’s a futile effort beneath his affection, his lips laying warm insistent kisses all over your forehead, your cheeks, your jaw. He’s unstoppable, whether it’s the heaviness or the happiness that makes you lie there and take it with quiet laughter as the rough skin of his cheek touches gently to yours. 

Jack is as much the sunshine of the room as the real thing, chuckling sweetly along with you and growing more pleased the louder your squealing sounds become, your fingers pulling across the bare skin of his back— he likes it too much to let you off in a timely manner.

Mrs. Adler had only just believed your excuse of a poor sleep as you’d rushed out in a tizzy with your disheveled hair and clothes, and a terrible flourish of panic had bloomed in your chest at the thought of an unchecked mark lingering on your neck. But Jack had looked you over meticulously; deft fingers had worked at the laces of your layers. And even before making it to the kitchen, two dozen kisses wet on your thighs, you’d opened the door only to find the old woman pacing about on the landing of the stairs. Slamming it shut with your back on the wood, panting in the face of confrontation, Jack snickered and peeked out for you a minute later, confirming your chance to slip out undetected.

Now finished serving breakfast, Jack once again prevents you from carrying out your tasks.

“You’ve left me with a lastin’ impression,” he rasps, eyes crinkling as he slips a hand under your skirt and the touch tickles and inspires a giddy laugh from your throat as you swat him away, at last slipping out from under him. 

“Give me your sheets, you greedy man,” you order, lifting your chin and furrowing your brow with your arm extended. Jack purses his lips and thinks, sitting up to run a hand through his dark hair, your smile growing despite yourself when it sticks up in bulky curls to leave his contented face in view. 

“These sheets have got your smell on ‘em now,” he grins like it’s his most favoured fact in his whole life, leaning back into his palms and his cock is slowly hardening between his legs as he considers his next words, “your cum is on them.”

“Jack,” you chuckle, “you’re dirty.” Inching closer to him, his joyous face turns dark when you arrive in the middle of his strong thighs extending past the edge of the bed, “Get up, please, or I’ll have you explaining why I’m behind schedule for the second time today.”

He presses up onto his feet, his gentle scent covering you as if a fleeting spell, and before any more rational thoughts occur, your hand is reaching into his unbuttoned pants, wrapping around his hard length. His head tips back, the softest growl filling your ears and he pushes his hips forward, placing his hands on your cheeks, urging your lips to slide along his as he fucks into your tight fist. It’s a sweet kiss compared to his already desperate thrusts, his cum still streaking your thighs, inside of you, outside of you, from mere hours before.

“I told you I’d come back here tonight. We’ve plenty of time to ruin more sheets.” Your whisper earns a heavy sigh expelled onto your skin, his grip sliding down to your neck and as his mouth hangs open, you nip at his bottom lip and pull it into your mouth, a tender suckle on the plush softness. He hisses as you let it go, burying his nose into the curve of your neck, and stilling his movements with your hand, he lets you work him like that— your fingers tightly curled around his cock as you slide it in and out of your palm. 

“Fuck me,” he groans, “I better see you back here if you’re gonna touch me like this, darlin’.”

Smiling, you pump him quickly, whispering how you can still feel him as if he’s fucking you right now, how good he is, how thick, and he growls from his chest, shutting his eyes tight in concentration.

“Maybe you’ll let me touch you tonight, too, Jack, leave your ropes for another time…” Your free hand clamps around the back of his neck, twirling your fingers around the hair at the nape of it, before tugging him down for a slower kiss, capturing his striking whine in your mouth.

“Shit, darlin’... I’d do anything you say right about now… Christ,” Jack’s fingers trace the neckline of your bodice as his lips skate along your cheek, and his voice is so husky and rumbly, you almost consider a greater risk of trouble.

He makes no protest as you bend carefully, still pumping his thick cock while you yank the sheet away from the mattress, pulling back to fold it into your arms and finally leaving his hard length unattended. Jack’s eyes snap open in a crushing neediness, his displeased but wrecked voice calling after you in a bid to keep you here and he laughs incredulously, “You get back here right now.”

Backing up into the door, your lip caught in your teeth, you reach behind and find the cool handle, offering a cheeky grin before you slip away and murmur, “I’m busy.”

-

A mellow afternoon follows Jack’s disgruntled exit to the fractional post office, stealing a rushed kiss in the corner of the parlour for the mere seconds you were alone together, giddy glances spared through the window on his walk to work. You spend a small segment of your time concocting tea for Mrs. Adler who pours over the payment book, thanking you as she slides a list across the bar; it’s full of all things you know to do without the help of paper and pencil.

“How about that Mr. Daniels?”

Spluttering, you swivel on your heel, unsure of the intention of her question, your eyes mistakenly blowing wide with no answer to fill the subsequent silence. She must know, you worry, she must.

“What about him?” You query, looking down at your apron in no need of smoothing, yet your hands fiddle with the pockets, and her amused scoff scrapes through your uneasy stance.

“My, you’d better sleep well tonight... that man whipped those fools down in a second,” she laughs, flipping the page of the large notebook and scribbling something down with a spotted, shaky hand. 

“He did.” Wiping your face, you conceal a sliver of a smile under your hand when you think of him— ease and cockiness burned down to his big pleading eyes looking up at you for permission. “Thought you disliked him.”

“Well, I could admit we need someone like that around here more often,” she croaks as you pretend to look over the list of laundry, sweeping, cooking, cleaning. The sentiment lands somewhere uncomfortable in your chest— you no more than agree with her and you could never tell her why or how.

“Oh, and dear, the sheriff came by this morning,” she adds, relaying his spiel of reports.

Only the most notable happenings make it over from town to town, lawlessness rendering crime nothing more than irrelevant. It takes a mass robbery, or a mammoth fire, or an offense so deeply doused and coloured red in rage to make the rounds of neighbouring settlements, so when Mrs. Adler shares the spreading news of heightened gang exploits a little ways north, your heart sinks and adopts a painfully heavy sensation.

“He advises to be extra careful,” she finishes with a stern look, “they could be coming here for all we know. Those Statesman men are horrible…”

“Statesman?” you echo her words, scouring the back of your mind to place the familiarity of that name, but she smiles in return to soften your worried brow. Statesmen, a Statesman. You’d read it somewhere, embellished into leather or stitched into the label of a visitor’s coat while tidying.

“I wouldn’t worry too much. If anything, girl, that Daniels boy should be of use.”

A challenge not to snicker, she gives you, when she tells you not to fuss, as if you’ve got the liberty to enjoy the outdoors where a vigilant attitude is required— but Jack is the remedy, you think, eyeing the stray strands of her brittle grey hair twisted up, scrunching your nose.

“Alright, Mrs. Adler,” you agree, passing her through to the laundry closet.

The air is stuffy inside the small, shelved room, where pleasing, cooling, tiny splashes pepper your forearms as you pour the water bucket into one of the tubs, then grabbing the soap, you flump onto the short stool and drag the laundry basket to your side. The first sheet on the pile is the last one you’d taken— Jack’s— carrying his heady and wood-fiery scent now mingled with yours. With a vibration of anticipation up your spine, your thoughts twirl upon your admittedly cruel handling of his need— tonight, you’re surely in for it.

The usual, slowly passing and hot hours fill with inescapable reveries toeing the line of unrealistic: a cloudy day in bed, a sunny evening at the river, clothes discarded to the side. Shaking those heart string-stretching thoughts and trading for a better focus, you hang the wringed sheets on the line as the last blazes of the sun spread over the field, and take a moment to rest your elbows on the log fence at the back of the yard overlooking the vast, lush area. 

Something heavy, once more, tugs at your weary limbs, watching the calm breeze push along the beige blades of plant-life, and you think of Sylvie— her bright mane and soothing demeanor, the rush of riding with her and him. The thrill no longer chased, waiting for you still. There must be a few months worth left of him, two at the least, perhaps enough to soothe your aching heart in seeking more vibrant days. But before too long, you set back on your course of chores, trekking up to tidy the bathing rooms for those coming back from a dirty day.

Jack finds you there an hour later in the open door, kneeling on the floor by the bathing tub, scrubbing away at its already-shiny exterior, and he smiles under the sticky and sweaty clothes, watching the way your body jostles with movement.

“Hey, cruel woman.”

Halting, your head briefly hangs between your shoulders before you sit back on your heels and grin up at him, his weary feet leading him towards you, a set of clean clothes hanging off his arm. His shirt is sheer in some places more than others, namely his chest, damp with muscular effort. 

“Did you have a hard day, Jack?” You question, making big eyes at him from your low spot compared to his tall height, and his face grows slightly stern.

“Oh, darlin’, you know I did,” he kneels, takes your chin in his hand and you find yourself leaning up into his face, mere inches from his lips, entranced by their pouty curve. But he doesn’t kiss you. He pinches your chin harder, a deep pressure as he looks over you, taking in the way you indulgently advance until you’re on hands and knees, caged by his own, staring at him with none of the power you held this morning.

“You oughta continue what you started…” he whispers almost on your lips, never close enough to touch, your eyelids heavily drooping as you look down his torso, leading to his cock.

“Oh,” you sigh, slick pooling where he can’t see or feel it, “Jack, I can…” 

You crawl forward between his spread legs until your nose nudges the material of his pants, resting your weight back on your knees when you reach out for him, but his face is a sinister, knowing grin when steadily rises back up to stand, rocking into his heels.

“Not now, though,” he coos, swiping a damp thumb over your lip, “off you go, little lady.”

“Why—”

Whining involuntarily, you watch while he shrugs off his suspenders and closes his eyes, fluttering back open with a smirk at Mrs. Adler’s distant call for you to prepare dinner.

“That’s why.”

Your mouth hanging open, you roll your eyes, taking his calloused hand as he aids you upward from the hard floor, though he finally gives you a greeting of a peck on the cheek, “Later, angel, you can show me what you’ve been thinkin’ about all day.”

Nudging your body, he sends you off to your chores in a frazzled state and shuts the door with a wink, settling in to wash himself off from the dust and dirt.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so needy, it nearly feels stupid to still have the crushing weight of wanting Jack as you chop ingredients, peek into cupboards, fill plates. It’s even worse when he sits at the table, clean and fresh and irresistibly smooth, chatting in easy conversation with Mrs. Crockett who enjoys his company dearly as she tells him uninteresting stories of her husband. 

He watches your back as you turn about the steps, as you pass along plates to each person, and he brushes his fingers purposely along yours when you arrive at his spot, a gesture to offer his silent token of appreciation. Your breath catches, and his wink sets it free again through a quiet sigh, smiling sweetly for him. He tries not to laugh, you notice, and you stop yourself from touching his shoulder here in front of everyone— namely Mrs. Crockett, who has also made a poor reputation of gossip and a budding friendship with Mrs. Adler who is closest to her in age. The last thing you can manage is a rumour about your little life; by that point you’d be begging Jack to take you with him even before the post office is built, even with so much left to explore with him.

As the chitter-chatter diminishes down to an empty table with empty plates, and the visitors disperse into corners or run off to different buildings— they always come back for dinner to get their money’s worth— you sort out the dried laundry, slipping into the ladies’ rooms to aid with corsets, all with distant thoughts in a place where they shouldn’t be. They never ask about your day so much as they speak of theirs, whether time spent with their sweetheart, telling you how they prefer their things folded, or muttering how much they liked dinner. The last one you take lightly, thanking the ladies in whispers. Now, though, it doesn’t cause as much of an ache in your heart when you listen to their free and happy memories— you think of doing the same with Jack, of asking him and receiving his sweet smile in return, ready if you are.

When you finally sit at your simple vanity, it’s with a powerful sigh that you remove your boots, step out of your clothes, and trade them for your nightgown. You pull the threaded pink ribbon taut into a bow, and look over yourself in the mirror, giddy in your stomach for when the time comes to slip into Jack’s room. Judging by the clock, another half hour would do to be sure everyone has settled in so you can sneak in complete privacy, and it feels less daunting now than it ever did before.

Folding your petticoat to lay the soft cotton on the tabletop, you hear the handle click and turn and you gasp fiercely in response, rising from the chair as Jack all but barrels in, haphazardly shutting the door before swooping you into his arms.

“Oh, my—” you squeal, cut off by a rough kiss that you eagerly return, bombarded with the scent of his soap and shaving cream. You only urge him off with your hands sneaking between your bodies to press on his chest and ask a burning question, his lips not wanting to part from you. It’s a tiny struggle but he eventually gives way, fondly looking down at you as you speak. “Did anyone see you?”

“Hall was empty. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ of you… lost my damn patience,” he croons, plushy lips open on your neck, leaving kisses that bloom into pleasant flourishes of need like ink dipped into water. It’s a new spot that you allow him to explore, bringing your hands up his wide shoulders as you turn around the room together, stepping at random. “Had to keep from touchin’ myself and dreamin’ of you…”

You wrap your arms around his neck, reeling him in closer for a whisper against the shell of his ear.

“You don’t have to dream, Jack, I’m here.”

His breath stutters uncharacteristically and it must be your chance to keep him like this, his pleasure dependent on what you decide to do with him— so you pin your front to his and he grunts, giving a miniscule, testing rut back.

“No more teasin’?” he asks hopefully, sweet brown eyes glowing in the low light of your little lamp. “You weren’t so nice this morning…”

“Oh, Jack, I’m not so sure about that.”

In a mirror of the morning, you slip your hand lower to find his cock hard again, splaying your fingers over its thick length and rubbing over the fabric. He squeezes your waist, digging his thumbs in helplessly as he staves off a groan in a bid to keep what willpower is still left with him, then loses it all when you place a simple kiss to his collarbone, not open or rough or wet— just plain, pressed lips to his skin, and he asks you for more.

“Will you let me touch you this time?” you murmur, urging him backward onto the bed. He slumps over the mattress, eyes trained on your face as he places himself further up with his legs spread, palms sinking into the covers. He swallows thickly when he takes you in: standing over him in the sheer, light fabric of your nightgown, its lace edges bordering the slopes of your body.

“I want you in my mouth,” you continue, lowering yourself to your knees, hands over his own as he shuts his eyes and breathes deep, long breaths, grunting when he feels your fingers working at his buttons. “Think I’ve earned it.”

“You could ask me for anything you want, darlin’... shit—” His thighs tense under your ministrations as you reach in and pull his cock out, the tip of it shining in his own, generous arousal. He looks down from himself to your sparkling eyes, and cups your cheek in his large hand, its smoothness traveling down the curve of your face. “Anything you want.”

His lip twitches, mouth falling delicately open and his eyes shutting once more as you place your tongue flat at the base, licking upward, circling around the head while you watch his face strain and pull, his neck sticking out prominently. He’s gorgeous when you touch him like this, still so fresh and clean from the bath. The warm drips of precum glide slowly on your tongue as you hold it out, then wrap your lips around him, whining when he fists through your hair and cramps his fingers.

“That mouth is just about gonna kill me already,” he rasps, bucking his hips up a smidge to perch himself deeper in your mouth, your hand rising to cover his at the base of your neck. Its heat is dangerous yet satisfying in its revelation of just how affected he is, a tiny spot of sweat swiping from his palm onto your neck.

Blinking up at him, you pull off, wetly sliding over half the length of him before moving back down to take more, feeling it brush against the back of your throat. You keep him there as he squeezes you harder, his spine curling over you and the new sound he makes is just begging to be heard, but he smothers it with a bite of his own lip to quiet it.

“Like that…” he sighs, carefully canting his hips forward as you wrap your fingers around his base, enveloping him and spreading the wetness of your mouth over his entire length.

He glistens like that, shimmering in the low and golden light, fisting at the blanket and your hair, puffing focused breaths every time you take him deeper, longer, sucking him harder.

Up and down, you keep your lips wrapped snugly around his cock, its throbbing heft a pleasurable weight on your tongue, the satisfying hit of the head at your throat.

“Where have you fuckin’ been,” he nearly laughs in disbelief that you’re even here, much less on your knees, much less with your mouth around him.

Pulling off for a deep breath, you trace the edges of your nightgown, eyeing him and his debauched, handsome face as you bring the lacy straps off your arms, leading them from your wrists. “I’ve always been here.” 

The fabric gathers at your waist in a soft pool of cotton and ribbon, your chest bare and level with his cock.

“Do you like that, Jack?” you preen, settling closer to him this time over the hard and truthfully painful floor— you don’t notice it as much when you feel him hitting that spot all the way down your throat.

“You know I do,” he smiles breathlessly, crinkles and that little dimple creasing in his content face. He leans down for a kiss, its nature unlike the urgency of your own mouth wetting his cock— it’s always sweet like he is to you in every other way, lingering there before you lean into the space between his legs, eager.

“I wanted you all day,” you coo, running a thumb over his tip, a saturated kiss placed there before you put him in your mouth for a brief suck, managing to keep him inside for a few short seconds. “I should have felt so tired after what you did to me, but all I could think of was this.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, he then lets it go in a gravelly sigh as he holds your bobbing head in his hands, spanning the sides of your face. Your forehead brushes his soft stomach as you push down, hollowed cheeks hugging every inch of him and he jolts, driving himself the smallest bit further, moaning at the tight and wet sensation of you. You pump him, looking so falsely innocent between his legs, your chest and shoulders bare for him to admire, peeking out of the fine gown.

“Keep goin’ darlin’, I’m gonna fill that pretty mouth up... know you want it down your throat, bet you thought about havin’ my cum drippin’ from your mouth all day, too, hm?”

Licking the tip and rubbing him faster, you nod fervently, opening wide in a stretch to finish him off with firm squeezes and strokes, his breaths now raggedly rough from above you every time he hits that spot. Your mouth is hot on his skin and he warns you he’s going to cum soon, he’s going to fill your mouth up nice and good, and you shut your eyes tight in concentration, focused on the thick feel of him sliding in and out between your lips.

“Wanna see you when I fill you baby doll, c’mere n’ look at me.” Jack’s fingers brush the underside of your chin, and you strain to look upward before you slide your hand over his slick cock. He tenses up by another degree, his chest and forehead damp, throat straining as he swallows thickly. 

A final squeeze and he cums all over your extended tongue, the milky liquid sliding off and onto your chest as he moans through gritted teeth, dazed as you are as you both watch it drip all over your exposed half. You swallow what remains in your mouth, letting your jaw drop to show him your now clean slate.

Bending into you and still panting, he smiles, streaking his thumb down your chin to gather up what’s left, guiding it into your open mouth. Heart racing, you take it in, your enthusiastic glow causing his face to soften.

His gaze drifts south to linger on your glimmering chest, pressing his palm flat and firm into the slight pool of it. He paints you with it, spreading his cum all over each breast with a clear sheen from the separation, special attention granted to each nipple with a flick of his wet thumb. Its initial warmth has cooled and with it lingers a soothing cover over your front as you lay your cheek over his knee, toying with the worn laces of his boots.

“Now… how to thank my darlin’ girl and her perfect fuckin’ mouth…” Jack wonders aloud as he cups your cheeks in his hands and puts a contrasting, innocent kiss to your forehead.

Grinning up at him and placing your hands over his, you tell him that’s all you wanted to give him, all you needed was to finally feel him in your mouth.

“Well,” he whispers, “I wanna show you what I was thinkin’ about all day long.”

The spark in your eyes must be a blinding one, his hands gliding over the slope of your body as you work yourself back onto your feet, your knees throbbing and sore. Wincing, you balance yourself on his broad shoulders, glancing down to notice his eyes not relieved of their dark hunger.

“Jack, you’re…”

“Not done, angel,” he finishes for you, and that’s when you feel it, the slick dripping past your core to spread slightly down your squeezing thighs. He pushes his sleeves up as the corner of his lip tugs upward too, straight teeth glinting the same as his eyes.

“Your turn, then,” you murmur, parting his hair through your fingers. It falls back into place, his pillowy and gentle lips finding yours as he stands with you, always chasing you, waltzing you backward until your ass bumps against the thick windowsill.

“I was choppin’ wood, thinkin’ of settin’ you right here,” he confesses lowly, ensuring the curtains are drawn completely open with a quick swipe of his hands over the gauzy lengths previously covering the glass, “thinkin’ of fuckin’ you on my fingers like this.”

You situate yourself properly on the sill and he steps back, taking a comically focused once-over of your seated body, but the desire is still so thick it doesn’t even bring you to laugh when he hurriedly comes back to you. He spreads your thighs wide, his palms a fiery heat that couldn’t be further from where you want it.

Tugging at his collar, you reel him in to place an open kiss just under his ear. “Give it to me how you want.”

The glass cools the staggering temperature on your skin as he knocks you into it, your back sticking to its chilly surface in the midst of his swirling breaths, ghosting the edges of your shoulders before he hikes your thighs up higher to his waist.

“You ready for me?” he murmurs with a husky voice, and it’s a powerful shock from your head to your toes, seeing how easily he’s worked back up to needing you as he lowers a hand to your core. His fingers part you, a slick and effortless slip through your folds to your entrance. “Darlin’... you’re soakin’ my hand already. Did suckin’ my cock do all this to your sweet little cunt?”

A hushed, restrained sound tears from you and is quieted by his mouth covering yours when he rubs his calloused fingers over your clit, rasping those low words sweetly into you, nipping your bottom lip between his teeth as the digits travel lower. The arousal dripping from your cunt makes that first slide so easy, Jack bottoming out to his knuckles with a soft sigh. His stomach nearly touches your own still covered by the bunched nightgown and he pauses there, a reassuring squeeze to your side and then a smooth gracing of his free hand to hold your thigh tight to himself.

“This is where I’ve wanted to be,” he confesses, his nose drawing a line from your shoulder, delicately down to your chest as he bends and swipes his tongue broadly over your sensitive nipple. The signals from your brain to your muscles are jumbled now, feeling the heat of his wet tongue tasting the cum on your chest— it’s out of your control when you arch your back into him and whine, when your fingers tangle into his hair and tug.

He responds in a groan, licking across your skin to your unattended nipple which he suckles on gently, lapping at it. Jack curls his two thick fingers before straightening out to kiss you fleetingly on your lips; he parts and watches your eyes intently, a stray curl falling to hang between his brows.

“So full already, hm?” he teases, his thumb swiping slow patterns on your clit, and you lean further back into the glass with a pant, its surface no longer able to cool you down.

“Yes,” you manage to respond in a gasp as he grants a second, deeper hit, a slight slapping sound causing you both to hug each other tighter and chuckle.

“Tight, sweet thing,” he groans, extended curls and strokes stretching you wholly around his hand, “take my fingers just right. Is that it, darlin’, were you made for me to fill you?”

“Mm,” you suck in sharp breaths, “mhm, you fill me up, Jack, you fill me up so good.” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, and his chin hooks onto your shoulder, digging into it hard as he holds you with one toned arm snaking around your waist. Like this, your damp chest brushes his, his fingers pump and work you open another smidge wider as he pushes in, grinds his palm against your clit, pulls his fingers out a fraction of the way. The motions of his hips against his own wrist are gentle, unhurried for now, having already cum into your slack mouth.

With the flat of his free palm caressing your back through soft strokes, he draws his lips back and forth over the curve of your neck.

“You know what I see?” he asks, urging his knuckles deeper in the hardest plunge he's given you tonight, an agonizingly fiery touch to your clit. “Men, walkin’ around all dumb— could see me fuckin’ you right here on my hand if they’d just look up— shit, they got no clue I’m feelin’ the wettest little pussy, huh?”

“Fuck, Jack,” your nails dig into the lean and muscular bulge of his biceps as he keeps you upright against the glass, your thighs squeezing him so close he can hardly fuck you anymore— he just rubs and grinds his hand against you while remaining far inside your aching pussy, soaking his already drenched fingers with more slick.

“And only I’m gonna watch you cum,” he adds in a grunt, working himself into you with every last drop of energy he’s saved, his soft moans and sharp teeth spurring you closer to coming all over his perfect fingers. You might have gone longer if not for the irreversible, desperate need for him that sucking his cock had instilled in you— had you nearly dripping onto the floor, your body left unimaginably sensitive that each time he brushes up against you now, you dig deeper into his skin. He likes it though, and it makes him move with a crazed edge, his moans transforming into snarls.

“Only you…” you echo, starting to grind with him yourself, rolling into and meeting his short, fast thrusts, every muscle tensing and straining and it’s so close, almost there—

“There you go, doll, can feel you squeezin’ me so tight… cum on my hand, fuckin’ soak me, c’mon…”

“Jack, Jack I’m gonna—” Urgently, you tap at his shoulder with wide eyes and worried brows as you feel it start to happen, knowing how close you are to crying— your nails dig into his shoulders so intensely when you cum, jaw dropped and eyes shut and he makes a wincing yet completely pleased noise into your mouth; it’s cruel. You manage not to make a peep at the cost of losing large breaths, and it makes your orgasm all the more intense: light headed, woozy, and tingling numbness reaching the length of your body.

“Sweeter than fuckin’ honey when you do that,” he smiles widely, until his mouth drops fully open at the way you hug his hand inside from coming so hard around him. Your slick gathers between your thighs and you still can’t breathe, his face buried into the spot under your jaw as he pulls them out of you, dragging the pads up to your clit while the rest of it spreads throughout your folds. He stares down at it, at the wetness dripping and glistening from your core, and he groans again, blinking slowly.

Placing his palms on the sill by either side of your trembling figure, he hums, your smile against his skin buzzing at his insatiable drive, how he’d fucked your mouth and your pussy with such short rest, feeling the damp hair at the back of his neck. He drops his head down as an offering and you take him in a gentle cradle, kissing his forehead as he’d done to you while he nestles. He looks up and back down, waiting for another, your fingers smoothing the unruly hair from his face.

“Hell, if I don’t wanna fuck that pretty pussy every night till I die,” he exhales, another glance at his wet fingers, dropping a kiss to your collarbone.

“Oh, Jack,” you laugh, your heels hitting the wall underneath you, “if only you were here for that long.” 

His face scrunches a little in confusion before his lips curve, “How many times do I have to remind you I ain’t leavin’ so soon?”

“As many times as it takes,” you whisper, fingers scratching down his arms, his own dipping into your cunt again without a warning, “fuck—”

“Yeah, baby doll,” he croons, “I got somethin’ to prove to you still?”

You nod with a greedy smirk and he retracts his fingers, taking them into his mouth after drawing a line between your breasts to taste your mingled releases, moaning in your ear. “Go n’ get on the bed. You’re gonna ride my face.”

A shiver chills your spine, mainly at the way his voice has dropped a miraculous third time, his hand landing a light swat on your ass when you pass him, shaky legs taking you toward the mattress. He follows to lay on his back, perpetually pleased with himself, arms outstretched and beckoning you forward. You crawl up to him and you can feel your own cum streaking your thighs as you move, soon beside his large body, and he raises his brows impatiently, “Well go on, sugar, I wanna taste some more of that.”

Stretching his neck every which way, his eyes crinkle as he grins between your thighs while you throw one over his shoulder and his arms fall behind him, fingers searching for yours until he laces them together, squeezing.

“You’re not tired yet, old cowboy?” you tease lightly, the force of it lost when he gives a broad swipe of his tongue and moans yet another time, indulgently, swallowing the remnants of your previous release.

“I ain’t ever gonna tire of this,” he replies, another lick from your entrance to your clit, such an easy slip of the muscle, your sensitivity dialed up too many extra notches. His brows knit together in effort, rough cheeks pleasantly scratching on your skin when he moves his head side to side, tongue hanging out of his mouth and edging with a perfect pressure all over your sensitive bud.

“I’d hope not,” you exhale, grinding your hips over his wet mouth until his grip moves to your thighs to prevent you from moving. His eyes look up at you keenly as he closes his lips around your clit and sucks, your head tipping in silent rapture as you take it all for him without the relief of motion. 

“We go real nice together,” he grumbles into your slick center. Tightening the hold of your thighs, he laves his tongue all over you in focused circles, faster, with just enough force for your legs to start shaking around his handsome face, for another gush of arousal to spread over his swollen lips. All that’s left for you to handle it is to scream it out, how good he makes you feel, how precious, but the house is so silent and only you can hear the slick sounds of his mouth on your clit— he won’t even let you rub yourself over him. You can only bite your lip and hold your breath, yet little puffs and moans sneak out when he does something unforeseen, like a single bite on your thigh or a gentle nip to challenge you— it’s all on purpose and easily noticed by his gratified face.

He tugs your clit a short, miniscule distance and lets it go, shaking his head when you mope over the loss of contact.

“Are you tryin’ for me, sugar?”

“You’re being tough on me,” you whine, shimmying further up his body to regain his lips that are brightly shining.

“If I ain’t tough then it ain’t right,” he whispers, “stay still and quiet for me and I’ll take you out again.”

He tips his head down and forward, swiping his prominent nose to spread you further open, but you don’t even consider the promise of a gift, your focus on the return of his soaked tongue to your throbbing core, biting hard on your lip to quell the need to cry.

“Is my darlin’ gonna come? You gonna cum all over my face? Gimme another one, dolly.” His mouth latches back onto your clit and you can’t think, much less form an answer in your blank head where all you see is white, or maybe blinding stars, or just plain nothingness as you let go, his moustache wet with you, his lips dripping.

By some miracle, the scream you fend off becomes so high pitched in your throat that nothing makes it out of you save for the helpless cry of, “Jack!” as you tremble around his cheeks.

“Yes,” he grunts, and thank goodness it’s muffled by your soaking core; your fingers finally escape his hold to grip at his hair with a fierce, unforgiving tug, and that softer sound fills the room again while your body freezes up and you cum harder this time, covering him, coating him. He grumbles something again, but it’s nothing you could hope to make out in the crushing wave of pleasure that hits you— the light sensation does not leave you, though the shaking eases off as Jack places a tender kiss to your clit, and you jolt at just that velvet brush, his eyes turning sympathetic. You breathe deep, slumping with great exhaustion and the dazed happiness of having him in your room now as you lift your thigh from his body and he leans his head up to grant a quick kiss while it slips away from him.

“Knew you could be quiet,” he smiles under the shine of your second release, resting his arms open over the blanket to welcome you into them.

“As if you don’t make it hard.” Huffing, it’s with a reciprocal smile that you crawl back to him, nearly toppling over on your way with the weakness of his own power against your body, and he chuckles at you, not shying away from his joyous teasing when you throw him a half-glare.

“Did I wear you out again?” he questions, guiding you into his side, turning his body over yours to swipe his tangy tongue over your bottom lip.

Whimpering, it turns into a cheerful giggle as he drops pecks over your nightgown, wrapping his finger around the tail of the ribbon. 

“You just keep going, don’t you, Jack?” you cup his face in your hands, and it’s now that he adopts a sheepish expression, turning his eyes away to tilt his neck and kiss your stomach once more.

“Until you ask me to stop, darlin’.” He lends two more kisses, one to each breast, and then gathers the straps of your nightgown from the pooling of fabric underneath your chest, tenderly helping your arms through the holes. You admire him quietly as you sit up to ease the gesture, letting his fingers guide the intricate lace edges back to your shoulders. He pats the cotton down to smooth it, your thumb stroking over his left eyebrow. His hands pry under you to wrap his arms around your middle, his cheek resting over your belly as you scratch through his dark hair. 

“I think you’re softer than you realize,” you whisper, twirling a lock around your finger and he peeks up, the apples of his cheeks rising in a twinkling smile.

“I can shoot a gun a million times but I sure don’t like it more than kissin’ you,” Jack coos, tickling up your sides and swatting away your protesting hands until you make an involuntary squeak and his eyes widen, hurriedly covering your mouth with his own. You titter over his smooth lips, his weight pinning you as he opens his mouth, taking more. “I’d think I’d have sold my soul to the devil to end up here with you if I didn’t know any better.”

You let the next bubbling ripple of affection take over you when he whispers that with his gleaming eyes, and you kiss him three more times, each slower than the last.

He rests there for some time, indulging in the carding of your fingers over his scalp, and he ensures you’ve drifted off before he rises in search of a cloth. He finds a green one folded by your petticoat, his fingers briefly dragging across its white lace before he dips the cloth in the small dish of water left beside it. He crawls back up beside you, lazily yet with careful attention guiding it under your slip and over your breasts, relieving you of the stickiness. You stir but don’t wake— his touch is too light, yet still unlike a feather— he cleans you off, sets the cloth back in its spot, and resumes his position, nestled up next to you.

-

Sneaking into Jack’s room— or him into yours— becomes a habitual routine after the goodnight click of Mrs. Adler’s door, though you often find yourself with an early visitor with eyes too bright and a needy little grin on his face. It follows his giddy lips on your neck hours before in scarce moments of isolation from other guests, or after he’s stared too long across the bar, and to ease the tension, he’ll ride to take Sylvie to stretch her legs, a sympathetic look on his face at the door knowing you can’t join.

And he wears you out. Nightly. A simmering threat to your timeliness in the morning that you can’t let go of. A single time, he’d taken the sheets with him in a rapid roll onto the floor as Mrs. Adler knocked and knocked outside, calling for you to rise, until she barged in and the thump had to be blamed on yourself, standing in your disheveled chemise. Her shifty eyes become less of a fear in your head and more of a laughing stock, though not as much as Jack was in his stupid course of action to thump on the floor behind the side of the mattress, taking the blankets, too.

His dignity is not lost, though, each time you press on him about it— his grip tightens over your thighs as you straddle his lap, feeling the impression of his leather settling into your skin.

A rare clump of clouds settles over town the following week, lingering long enough to darken this evening further and forcing an early lighting of the lamps inside, a cozy glow over the hectic and crazed state of the bar.

“Let’s not slack, dearie,” Mrs. Adler sings in her urgently high-pitched voice as you handle the treacherous beast of the card game hours, handling too many requests for the strongest liquor from the cabinet, working your wrists as you open new bottles and impatient sighs crumble out of overworked throats.

Jack glances at her, a rapid flick of his angry eyes as he sets his glass of whiskey down, furrowing his brows in obvious disagreement with her words.

“She’s doin’ fine,” you hear him grumble, and you don’t have it in you to turn and face him to offer your surely-silencing glare, and without it he continues, “think we could offer a little patience.”

Chest fluttering, you shut your eyes with a bothersome huff, setting your hands flat over the counter as you wait for Mrs. Adler’s response, and the other men waiting at the dining table chat over things well beyond you, another fleeting mention of the Statesmen— but Jack remains silent along with her, and you can already picture the way he must be maintaining a hard stare at the old woman to leave her increasingly frazzled.

“My girl does this every day,” she states primly, blocking his view of your back with her own body after an uncoordinated waddle, “you keep out of it.”

Jack scoffs, soft but pointed, the wood groaning under the slide of his glass as he moves it aside, “If you cared to notice, ma’am—”

Spinning on your boot, away from the assortment of glasses set over the counter in their stage of finishing touches, you raise a hand, his first name almost slipping out until you choke on the unspoken word, widened eyes earning a mirrored expression from Jack, “It’s alright, Mr. Daniels,” you soothe, and his smirk is much too telling in his amusement of your spluttering, that you’d called him the old, proper name.

Mrs. Adler huffs a victorious breath as she checks over the full and heavy tray, granting approval while you giggle at Jack’s silly face made behind her back, followed by a wink of his eye. 

He closes his eyes as Mrs. Adler finally limps off into her study— what she achieves in there he does not know— and watches you with affection and a warming dose of admiration in his stomach as you handle the tray, setting down shining crystal glasses on the table, a soft smile on your face as the youngest card player offers his thanks. They rarely ever do.

“You look real nice,” he drawls as you round the counter, his elbows sliding along the surface as he leans in, all sparkling eyes and teeth with his wide grin as he follows your steps. “I think I’d like to get my hands on—”

His words fall away to a whisper as you shake your head in feigned annoyance, the laughter stealing your breath as you lean opposite him, taking in the sly look on his face and the pull of his shirt across his shoulders. His hand reaches for yours, tentatively, and you’re powerless against the sweet touch on your fingers as he traces them out, pulling your palm into a bed of his two hands. 

You watch as his eyes set on the random patterns he draws, eyelashes curling against his face every time he blinks, your conscious mind soon oblivious to your placement in relation to the large group at the dining table— but it doesn’t matter. They’re as absorbed in their gambling as you are in his focused touch and feel, your heart an obnoxious flutter when he smiles up at you, a perfect mix of kind and sultry darkness. 

“I’d like to get my hands on you,” he murmurs, those repeated words spoken lower this time and with a twinkle, raising the back of your hand to his lips. A gentle press, your eyes locked together in a soft gaze to match, and he gives you back your hand as the spell of slowed-time is broken by a shocking round of cheering from the group behind you both.

With a subdued grin, you ease yourself away from the magnetic pull of your lips to his, “You’ve always got your hands on me.”

“And in,” he huffs, stifling a snicker at the fifth roll of your eyes today, watching the ends of your tied apron’s ribbon swing around over the length of your skirt. 

“You’d better find something to do in the meantime, or I’ll be asking Mrs. Adler to send you off herself.”

Jack shudders in a fake paddy of fear, the miniscule shakes of his body diminishing the sooner he realizes the severity of your words, and he merely chuckles. “Why’d you want to get rid of me?”

The pleading pull of his face and the wide and warm eyes he gives are somehow not enough to stop you from gesturing your head towards the pile of dirty dishes from dinner, waiting beside the basin. “You’re distracting.”

“Sweetpea, I’m ‘fraid that’s what you’ve got yourself caught up in,” Jack rests his chin in his palm, eyeing the clearing weather outside, “if you insist on woundin’ me, I think I’ve got a horse who needs to go for a ride, and a little lady who’ll have to join us next time…”

“I’ll see you later, Jack,” you whisper, rounding the edge of his ear with your fingers, easing his hair back into place and he adopts a light blush— softer things always more efficient in pausing his heartbeat than harsher things— and he grabs his hat left to the side of him, placing it over his head and bidding you a caring goodbye, “Miss me, darlin’.”

-

Once the room has cleared at last, leaving you in that familiar spot with soapy hands, sore feet, and a wandering mind, you arrange the wet dishes to dry, stacking each on top of the other with meticulous attention. You dry your hands on the fabric of your apron, rough cotton soaking up the water, your back leaning into the hard edge of the bar behind you. The strain in your neck grows sharper as you push your head back, groaning, willing away the next few hours until you can put your feet to rest upon Jack’s lap. 

And at the thought of him, a whistle from the exterior shoots your stream of mental pictures down as your head whips to look out the window, and there he is— Jack, thighs spread wide over Sylvie’s back as he urges her to stop, his eyes straining to find you through the window. Stomach twisting, you make a speedy trip to the stash of berries hidden away, and you pull a handful of them into your apron’s pocket before sparing the parlour a thorough peek and slipping out the front door.

It’s not loud enough for you to make out, but it must be Jack’s voice in a baby soft tone as he tells Sylvie what sounds like “there she is,” with a pat between her perky ears and a smile towards you. 

“Hello,” you grin, stepping to the edge of the porch where you meet the two of them, shamelessly devouring the way he sits tall upon her in the dying sunlight clear of clouds, dark clothes, dark hair, dark eyes, a bandana hugging his neck under his glistening throat. “Back so soon?”

“It was her idea,” Jack pokes, leaning back in the saddle as Sylvie adjusts her hooves into place over the dust and sparse blades of wheatgrass. “Suppose I had to lead her here, though…”

With a hand gliding along her wide neck, you watch his smile only grow in size as he watches you gather the berries from your pocket and throw a quizzical look his way, to which he nods enthusiastically, leaning forward again to watch and guide.

You call her name softly, approaching her from a better angle, and she makes an odd pattern with the movement of her head before she digs into your offered palm of treats, her wide mouth a great tickle on your skin that you try not to flinch at.

“Nice girls,” Jack whispers, swiping his hand over Sylvie’s shoulder, then turning his attention to you. “No more flak from the lady, I’m hopin’?”

“No, haven’t seen her since,” you giggle, “you know, Jack, that was kind what you did, but I am still fine.” 

Sylvie chomps down the rest of your stash of berries, licking the leftover juices off your palm as you gasp, retracting your arm, and Jack extends his hand far across to you in a warm beckoning. You give him the dry one and he laughs when he notices, “I ain’t afraid of no horse’s mouth,” steering you around to where he’s sat on the saddle.

“You’re not even afraid of Mrs. Adler,” you say bluntly, resting your laced hands over the meat of his thigh and then your chin on top, and Jack stares down at your widened eyes, his chest stuttering with a slightly choked breath.

“I came here to see you, darlin’, to tell you somethin’.” Running his thumb over your hand, he starts to lean his body down, your own straightening for his lips to meet your ear in a warm breath, sending ice down your spine and a melting heat between your thighs.

He waits for your prompt, his radiating need causing your posture to wither as you slant up and into him, “What is it?”

Whatever upward curve your lips adopted seconds before falls away as your eyes close, that heat between your thighs now wetter, your grip on his leg tight enough to pinch.

“I’m gonna take you out again tonight, gonna lay you in the grass and fuck you dumb, listenin’ to you whine loud as you can.”

He’s utterly pleased with the visible, hitching breath you can no longer take in, your chest pausing in its stunted passing, and he straightens up his back again to look down at you with his face shadowed under his hat. “Ain’t that somethin’ old girl, the little lady is speechless…” Jack coos to the horse and she puffs, followed by another pat of her hoof on the ground, and his grin is a mix of genuine and egotistical happiness.

“Jack,” you purr, all bothered and wobbly-knees, a helpless look in your eye as you tug the looped rope, and he prepares to ride back off. He doesn’t partake in your pleading this time, instead giving a squeeze of his legs over Sylvie’s back.

“Same place, darlin’,” he calls, “I expect you.” 

A backward glance and a tip of his hat as courtesy— or to make up for his foolish teasing— and his figure dies off in the gunpowder dust behind him and his girl, his jacket the same one you’d worn your first time away. 

-

It’s cool and dark the next time you step out onto the porch, carefully shutting the door behind you, locking it with your key. You rub your hands over the sides of your arms as you creep over the wood, peeking past the pillars before descending the three short steps. Same place, he’d said, so you set off in the direction of the stables, bathed in the soft light of the spaced lamp posts, the same exhilarating rush as the first time bubbling head to toe. 

“Ever heard of a sweet little maid ‘round here?” Jack’s happy rumbling sounds just behind you, turning into laughter at the yelp you let out, its sound squeaky and fearful until he catches you by the waist, pulling your back into his chest to sway your body around aimlessly. “Works for a Mrs. Adler, prettiest face you ever saw…”

An endeared giggle falls out of you, mouth covered immediately by your hand when he comes to place his chin on your shoulder, his fingers pressing tightly to your middle. His clothing feels rough by your neck, unlike anything else you’ve felt him wearing against you, but his cheek is soft and freshly shaven, his lips hungrily kissing behind your ear.

“Oh, I’m not so sure I have…” you murmur, allowing yourself to sink backward into his promising support, and his hum is sweet into your skin when you say so, arms squeezing you just enough for your feet to lift from the ground. 

“She’s got angel eyes,” he whispers, a finger coming to trail down your cheek as he lets you back down, until his hand cups your chin, turning your head sideways to capture your lips in a deep, swelling kiss. Your own hand rises to mirror his gesture, knees suddenly like water with their wobbly weakness, and the ball of your foot scrapes over the dust as he tugs you even closer, tasting your lips. 

“That might ring a bell,” you smile when you finally part, stroking your thumb over his jaw. He likes the way it feels, tilting himself further into your light grip of his face. The world surrounding you will never be the same level of interest when he stands before you— a daydream of an outing only seems as sweet if he’s there. A guidance, of sorts, a protector.

Roaming your eyes over him, a surprised gasp follows that welcoming kiss when you notice his top half covered in a navy blue poncho, its edges finished with white tassels and the wool adorned with white lines making intricate patterns over the length and width of it.

“Where have you been hiding this from me?” you simper, picking up the edge of it to feel the slightly scratchy material. He grins, weight shifting to one foot with a cocked hip, hands resting at the base of his suspenders underneath.

“Hidin’ it?”

“You’ve always got that jacket on,” you murmur, leaning upward, grabbing his face in an internal fit of fondness at seeing him covered in the blanket-like garment, giving him a harsher kiss that surprises him enough to nearly stumble backwards. He gains his balance, beaming against your mouth as he steadies the both of you, the world returning.

“You sure keep me on my toes, little lady,” he breathes, brows raised in bashfulness that you forget he has stored in that cocky brain. “Don’t you stop.”

Humming, your hand falling to rest on his chest as you recall more private contexts to his last words, you notice he wears a cross-body leather satchel underneath the poncho. “What have you got in there?”

“I can’t be full of surprises if you wanna make me spill ‘em all,” he teases, pushing his nose into yours, “come on, just you n’ me tonight.”

With your fingers laced together, Jack leads you through the familiar field to an unfamiliar spot at the top of a climbing hill, large rocks worsening the upward trek under the minimal light.

His hands find the backs of your thighs as he helps you over the last hump and your frustrated huff gets lost in your throat when you realize his hands are helping you up under your skirt instead of over.

“Jack,” you guffaw, using your biceps to push up and over the hard surface and he plays dumb behind you, a deep chortling following as you roll over to the flat space of dry grass above it. Looking ahead you notice a small gathering of wood placed in a circle around the center of the clearing in the trees while Jack rolls up next to you, much more gracefully with what must be years of practice.

He shares a sideways glance with you, “What?” 

His pouty lips drag downward in his falsely innocent question, your eyes rolling without annoyance but with affection. He grabs your hand again, tugging you near the woodpile and he reaches into the satchel, revealing a box of matches in his palm.

“Is this what you did earlier?” you ask, a bewildered softness easing over your shoulders, and he nods with a grin.

“Sylvie n’ I came here to get it ready.”

Sliding the box open, he strikes the match against the rough side of the cover sleeve and the spark ignites a smoking, small flame that he holds to a coil of waxed thread under the arranged sticks and wood. It catches on and flourishes upward, sprinkling tiny sparks that rise then fall by Jack as he recoils, standing back up to his feet.

“How’s that?” he looks at you, pulling you into his warm side, your fingers instinctively wrapping around a tassel. You raise your other hand to hover over the fire, its heat so pleasant and lively on your skin and you look back at him with the same fondness as always for his generous gifts, that might not even be considered a gift to anyone else but you.

“Thank you, Jack.” On your tiptoes, you place a kiss on his cheek filled with all the words you can’t think to say— it’s only a campfire, and to you, it holds all his care, burning there.

“There’s more,” he whispers, and his fingers rise to touch where your lips had just been, then he looks to them and you, smiling. “Said you wished you could run,” he starts, pointing to an old, battered tin can sitting atop a tree stump several feet away, “reckon there’s a few things you’ll need to learn first.”

From underneath the wool, he pulls out one of his revolvers and it shines in the flickering fire, freshly polished. He extends his hand, your own hesitantly touching it’s handle, cupping the barrel with the other as you slowly hold it on your own.

“Jack, I really don’t know about—”

“Careful,” he coos, circling back to stand behind you and placing his hands on your hips, he helps you adjust your grip with the beginning of his lesson whispered into your ear, his hands gentle as they cover yours. “Two hands.”

“I’m not sure I’m the gun slinging type,” you whisper nervously, your palms becoming clammy just handling the weapon, and you remember when its silver glint was pointed at Mr Porter, under its power.

“Always assume a gun’s loaded,” he continues, aiding you in extending your arms out, the aim at the can improving as you go. “Feet apart.”

With the toe of his boot on the inside of your ankle, he pushes your feet further apart until shoulder-width, and your shoe slides over the dry grass as you suck in a deep breath at the physical order. 

“Hold it tighter,” he whispers next, ensuring your fingers are hugging the grip tightly, your other hand cupping the trigger guard firmly. “Don’t leave your finger on the trigger unless you’re aimed and ready.” 

Jack is rasping now, a growing hardness on your ass from watching you handle his own weapon with determination and he pinches your hips, inciting a gasp as you try to keep your arms steady.

“The cylinder's full,” he adds, “you hit the can and I’ll make good on my promise.”

With the shot of arousal that comes after his words and the reminder of his promise to fuck you hard over the grass, it’s too easy to convince yourself that you’ll miss every shot.

“Won’t somebody hear it?” you question, turning your head as far as you can and he hums thoughtfully, pinching you softer.

“It’s luck if you hear a gunshot from a distance,” Jack soothes. And it hits you, that when Mr. Porter and Mr. Bryant started shooting blindly in the house, that those were the closest bullets had ever been to you— and here, you hold them in your palms.

“Go on, sugar, knock it over and I’ll fuck you right by this fire.”

A whine escapes you before you can aim it again, the grip even sweatier than before, the fire merely a glint now as you focus on the target tin.

Locking your grip around the handle, your pointers steadying the direction, you shut one eye, then the other to test the placement, and you pull back the hammer with a stretch of your thumb.

“I’m scared,” you breathe as your arms remain pointed forward, and Jack nods, applying pressure to your shoulders with his palms.

“I’ll keep you steady. S’okay if you miss.” Jack rubs some of the tension away, your arms growing tired from holding them up as you make one last adjustment. The jolt when you pull the trigger is more powerful than you’d expected, and Jack keeps you still as your body reacts to the sharp sound and the full shock of it. The bullet only just skims the side of the can, a tinkling sound following the jarring shot from the barrel.

“Fuck,” Jack breathes, his eyes wide and his smile too, when he looks from your near-shot to your frightened face turning into confidence. He throws his hat to the side, smoothing his hand through his hair before bending slightly behind you, “that was fuckin’ close, darlin’. Go again.”

His tone is pure excitement as you shake off the last lingering threads of apprehension, and you aim again, not a one inch difference from your first shot, pulling the hammer down a second time.

You place your pointer over the solid trigger and Jack’s breath hitches as he waits and watches intently, his hands still supporting your shoulders. This time, when your upper body jostles back from the force, the shot is farther off but still close, hitting the bark where a small explosion of wood chips scatter to the grass and you startle at the cracking noise, casting a worried look to Jack.

“Keep tryin’,” he soothes, cuddling his cheek to the side of your neck as he cozies up, and you’re certain it’s not the best condition for a shooting lesson, the middle of your thighs gathering slick and your palms more nervous sweat. With a deep breath, you stretch your arms out once more, muscles pulling up tight as you adjust your feet, your eyesight on the tin can reflecting the flames of the little campfire.

“That’s it,” Jack whispers as you touch your finger to the hammer, “focus.”

Scoffing, you settle your aim, determined to ignore the way he’s still pressing up against you.

“You’re doin’ great,” his voice scratches just before you pull against the trigger’s resistance and the bullet releases, harder it feels like, and pierces the tin with an incredibly loud metallic pang, sending it fast off the stump. Although you’re not too far from it, you don’t trust it yet; looking back down at the weapon in your hand and then to him, his smile already turns smug. It’s a surprise to hit it at the same time that it’s not— luck or natural talent, you don’t think you’ll ever find out. He shakes his head with pride dripping all over, crushing you into his side with a tense squeeze of his arm, your neck fitting in the bend of his elbow.

“That’s too quick,” you breathe in modesty that Jack tells you to shush away, as your disbelieving eyes fall back on the tree stump, tin can-less. “I wasn’t far away enough.”

“Come on, darlin’.” He disembarks, jogs to the stump, picks up the can behind it. A hole burns through the center on both sides. “Still shot it on the third try.”

When he arrives at your feet again, you peer down at the silver gun in your hold. Struggling to accept your own accuracy, you slowly hand it back to him.

“It'll be harder next time,” he purrs, sliding it back into its holster pocket, “but I think you’ll make the most charmin’ gunfighter in the whole damn world.”

“That’s your title,” you smile, brushing the dark hair from his forehead, curling your fist into the wool draped over him. “And the most handsome, too.”

Jack’s chest puffs out against yours as he preens at your softly-spoken compliment, the tone of his hum pitched in a questioning way to urge you on to continue.

“I’d rather like to learn more about that lasso,” you say instead, fingering where it’s attached to his hip, and he looks at you through his eyelashes, closing his hand around the one fisted in his poncho.

“Hell, if I taught you the ropes I doubt you’d let me out of your room for a whole week, darlin’. We’d better work up to that…”

“Oh well,” you tease, perching yourself up to level your lips with his ear, “you’re too soft on me to be my teacher anyway.”

“Too soft?” He raises his brows, eager to know, causing you to step back as he advances on you.

“Too easy. I ought to shoot that can three more times from ten more feet away just to be sure I’ve learned.”

Jack lays the thick blanket next to the crackling fire after pulling it out of the satchel, motioning for you to come.

“Sugar, I’ll show you rough,” he grumbles, dragging you down to the blanket with him, your chest thumping square on his when you land, a stunted breath into his mouth. His promise, listenin’ to you whine as loud as you can, returns to you now as he holds the back of your neck and opens his lips to brush yours, nipping your lower lip to earn the first wince.

“Don’t disappoint me,” you taunt, landing yourself rolled over and pinned under his heavy weight as he lifts the poncho from his head and drapes it over your bodies, hidden and warm together as you share the fiery heat of yourselves and the physical fire beside you.

“I’d hate nothin’ more than to disappoint you.” He keeps his eyes trained on your face as his fingers creep up your leg, a soft ghosting until he reaches the stark wetness compared to your dry skin everywhere but your core and he’s already groaning at just the sensation of your slick covering his fingers. “Think I could fill you right now, hm? Soakin’ me so fast…”

“I need you to fuck me as hard as you can,” you demand, your head tipping back against the ground underneath the blanket, heat accumulating in your own makeshift tent of the dark poncho. His fingers twitch over your clit as he watches your face twist in effort to get your last coherent thoughts out, “This is where I can cry.”

“Jesus,” his head falls into your shoulder and he rubs his cock on your thigh, covered by his trousers. He’s hard and thick, just as he was watching you shoot his gun, and he lifts your skirt higher, bunching the fabric at your waist. “You always get what you ask for from me.”

Blindly searching with your fingers, you find the buttons of his trousers and pull them open, carefully taking his cock out, the tip leaking generously onto your skin. You spread it for him though it runs out quickly, but your own burning arousal is enough for the two of you as he settles himself closer, his hair flopping out of place. His moustache brushes against your temple when he spreads your legs wider, a soothing slide of your skin over the blanket before you feel his cock running through your slick folds, and it’s enough to start whining. Even the little sounds you let out at the house are suppressed and quietened— here, there is no one but the two of you.

“Give it all to me, baby doll,” he rasps over your throat as he positions himself and pushes past your entrance, slowly stretching you open on his thick cock and your thighs fall open wider, too, your breath heavy and low for him to bask in. “Ain’t that sweet…”

Jack’s eyes carry the glint of the fire beside your bodies as he stays there for some moments, letting you squirm all you need before he flattens you to the ground with his chest, cooing encouraging gentleness to contrast with the untamed way he’s going to fuck you here, on the blanket, again. His cock pushes deeper with the added mass, your whimper not enough when he finally thrusts and hits his hips to your wide-spread thighs and works the wetness of you all over his cock.

“Ja— Jack—” you whine, and his hot hand soon comes to glide over the innermost part of your thigh, rubbing it firmly as if he’s about to—

He spanks your thigh and earns the high-pitch moan he’s been working for all along, drawing himself back to return with a harsh thrust as he keeps his hand on the stinging sensation, groaning out his nose.

“Fu-uuck, there we go, that’s what I wanted,” he grunts through stunted breaths as he sets a new, punishing pace, sliding with ease in and out, hitting deep inside to brush against that satisfying spot that when he slaps the same part of your leg, the pleasure from both makes you cry louder, moan louder.

He draws the wool tighter around his back as he lowers his lips to your mouth, emitting an animalistic groan over your face when you clench around his cock and pull him in closer for another open-mouthed kiss, true and full.

“Oh, god,” you groan, his hand caressing the underside of your thigh, until he draws it up to push your knee on your chest, fitting his hand in the bend of your leg.

“Gimme more, sugar,” he demands, landing a sharp swat to the side of your ass lifted off the ground that gives him your neediest, filthiest sound yet as you fist his hair, taking his brutal pace. 

“Jack, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Fuck,” he curses back harder, “I’m gonna steal you every god damn night for this.” Jack hisses through bared teeth on your collarbone, keening when you raise your hips to meet his. The fire rises beside you at the same time a wave of building pressure in your abdomen knocks through your lower half, and you place your hands on his face, sliding them up to meet his hair.

A shaky breath puffs out of you, the sting of his spankings spreading over your leg as you crane your neck and cry out while he buries himself and grinds against your clit, “You just get wetter n’ wetter for me,” he remarks hoarsely, “just can’t help but need me, hm?”

“I... Yes,” you sigh into his heated neck, your limbs softening in their hold of him as he fucks you hard over the blanket, his grip deathly on the side of your thigh.

“I want to hear it, darlin’, say it to me,” he scrapes, his voice at the bottom of his register, and when the words get stuck in your mind and jumbled out of order from the fullness of your core, he draws himself out and rolls you onto your stomach. Mindlessly, empty, you whine with an equal hoarseness to his own, the end of it pushed out prematurely when he flattens his chest over your back, lining his cock back up with your soaking entrance.

“I’ll pull every last pretty sound you got left in you if I have to.” 

The words are a terrible blow to your senses, sparking a rapid increase in the sound of rushing blood in your ears as he pushes your thigh up to the side and presses down on it with his palm.

“Please…” you breathe, “I’m so close— fuck me, please fuck me again—”

Shutting your eyes, hoping to feel him push himself back inside you, you instead are met with a final, cracking swat on your leg that sends you wailing as Jack waits for you to scream it, “Tell me, sugar!”

“I need you, Jack— I need you!” 

It doesn’t sound like your own voice. Never has it been clouded by so much desire and such a sinful edge to your witless begging, but it’s enough for him. A push forward, and he fills you; his own sounds have grown needier too, reaching far out. He plants a hand by your face and you grab onto his wrist as he shoves his cock repeatedly deeper and at this angle, you could consider the punishing stretch of him painful, but it’s everything you need, causing you to whine a step higher every time his hips hit your ass.

“You’re all I fuckin’ think about, darlin’,” Jack mouths at your earlobe, your bodies turning slick under the poncho and your clothes, “here you are, shootin’ my gun n’ lettin’ me fuck your tight little pussy, beggin’ for me— gonna make me fuckin’ cum.”

Your jaw drops and an involuntary squeal stumbles from your hanging lip, Jack snarling behind you as he plunges again, hooking his hands under your shoulders and splaying his fingers wide over the tops of them.

It’s a taut stretch of your chest when he pulls on you like that, the soft curl of his hair tickling your neck as he nestles his face to yours and muffles his grunts and groans. You pull up tighter around him, squeezing his cock, nearly driving him to collapse over your back when he feels it happen and what is easily his hardest, neediest and wrecked groan tears out and spreads over your limbs with the rumbling breath he takes after.

“Jaaack,” you whisper, his movements heavily weighing on you, your body resting just at the precipice of something overwhelming, “So… full..”

“I’m gonna fuck my cum into that sweet cunt.” Jack fists the blanket with his supporting hand and the next time he rams his hips forward, a full-bodied scream fills the air, and once more, you squeeze him tighter as you cum hard around his cock, your nails starting to dig into his wrist as he fucks you through it. 

“Baby doll, you’re too fuckin’ good to me— squeeze me so fuckin’ tight when you cum, keep it comin’—”

“Oh god, oh god, oh god— fuck!”  You can’t stop gushing around him as his thrusts lose rhythm, as he focuses more on the sounds you’re making and the grip you have on his cock and it just won’t end, tears beginning to form in your eyes while the movements never cease.

“That is just heavenly,” he says with a strained laugh, “shit, you really did need me, huh? You want my cum inside you too? Want to be spoiled?”

“Yes!” you cry, miraculously raising your ass just a little against his cock as the orgasm finally calms, a growl and a bite on your shoulder at your ceaseless will to beg.

“Take it.” One final, gorgeous moan from his throat and he buries himself, a wet warmth painting your walls, his chest deflating as he settles around your back and rubs your thigh in a soft contrast to what was his stinging swats minutes before. He blows and pants to recuperate, and as he brings himself out, you feel the warmth spreading and dripping down to your clit. For a moment, you share the breaths you’re both trying to catch, but the sensation of his cum sliding over your skin is yet another obstacle to returning to a manageable state of being.

“This…” he whispers, taking his hand back, leaning on his other elbow to support himself as he slides his fingers under your skirt to lead them to your swollen cunt, “is my favourite, darlin’.” He spreads his cum over your folds, milky liquid sliding wherever he traces, and you push back on your knees to raise yourself for him while he guides it back inside you, your throat tired but still whimpering as he pushes his fingers in.

“Keep me inside,” he murmurs on your temple, urging you to lay back down over the plushy blanket, and as you relax, mussed and twinkling by the fire, he drapes the poncho over your body, tucking the fabric under your sides. He strokes your cheek with the dry hand, lifting your head to his lap as he carefully sits by you, your eyes delicately fluttering closed. 

“Did I hurt you?” He asks, and without opening your eyes, you shake your head no. Jack makes a purring sound, considering the moans his actions pulled out of you, and he begins to stroke your face some more. “Hope I never do,” he adds softly, studying your peaceful expression under the firelight and stars, “you’re soft.”

The last two words make you blink and smile up at him, finally granting him a peek which he returns with curved lips, and you know that “soft” doesn’t mean “weak” when he says it.

“I got an idea of where to take you next, if you think you can handle it...”

-

tags for yeehonk idiot:

@filthybookworm @frannyzooey​ @javier-pena​ @javierpcna​ @astroboots​ @userdindja @pedros-mustache​ @princessxkenobi​ @trashcora​ @writerdee1701​ @thelemongeneration​ @libraryofrecs​ @fan-of-encouragement​ @herb-welch​ @writeforfandoms​ @queenofthecloudss​ @leannawithacapitala​ @the-feckless-wonder​ @kesskirata​ @fuck-goes-on​ @lawfulgranola​@apascalrascal @prismaticpizza​ @xemmaloveskillianx​ @littlemissoblivious​ @quica-quica-quica @spideysimpossiblegirl​ @little-big-mac2​ @recklesswit​ ​@frankie-catfish-morales

let me know whether you’d like to be added or removed! 

[pbandjesse]

I am feeling good after leading a really excellent workshop. But I am also just so glad this week at camp is over. Camp isn't supposed to feel like this. And the bad is starting to bleed into my art program and I absolutely can not have that. Art is supposed to be a happy place. And thankfully for the most part it was today. But it didn't make the hard stuff any easier.

I had a lot of fun with James last night. We watched cabaret and laughed and talked and I would sleep really well. But waking up felt terrible. I would wake up at 5 when James's alarm went off but fell back asleep until 7. Getting up was bad but I struggled through. And James has a hashbrown ready for me. Still warm on the stove. They're the best.

It wasn't a terrible drive. My phone is doing the thing where it won't stay connected again. Very annoying. But it was fine. I got to camp a few minutes after 8 and went and parked at arts and crafts. I was already set up and things were fine. I was feeling better not having to think about the schedule anymore. So once I felt set up I got my book and hung out in my hammock to read.

It was surprisingly chilly. I would wear my fleece for a lot of the day. It was nice not feeling like I was sweating and wet all day.

A lot of the stockade boys would say good morning to me and show me the bracelets they made. Had me tie them to their wrists. It was very sweet.

And I had a lot of fun with my groups. The girls were great this morning. And I had a few SSC kids helping me with posters and organizing string. One was a little more hard working and focused then the other but things were rolling and it was a good day.

I also got to talk about my knitting with the kids and show them the blanket I made for my dad last year. It was just really fun and while I was tired I was in a good mood. I think it helped that the girls were hilarious. Some highlights : "if you truly want to embrace your inner Jake from State farm to have to memorize the logo" ,"if I don't touch a soccer ball soon I'm gonna crack out", After making an American flag with no stars and not enough stripes "okay guys what states are we cutting. The Virginias? Together. The Carolinas? Squish em. The Dakotas?? You don't even want to know. It's my flag I make the rules now. All theme park states can stay ", After finding a sort of giraffe shape piece of scrap paper "anyone want this giraffe? It's a rescue",To the tune of Alexander Hamilton "I am alligator snapping turtle. I am alligator snapping turtle. And there's a million things I haven't ate. But just you wait...just you wait..". It was so great and I'm glad I documented them in the moment.

Lunch was chicken tenders and Mac and cheese. Which was good. I also had some lettuce. But then I also gained a teenager.

The chef, JB's, daughter Angel was here today to visit and she asked if she could come hang at art and I was like of course. And so after lunch I would go hang in the hammocks and she would come find me.

My first group after lunch tried to come 15 minutes early and I shot that down. They went to play Gaga but would come back after s but. Angel was excellent and very fun to talk to for being a teenager. I was happy to have her. And we would chat and hang out the rest of the day. I would encourage her to talk to the teens her age and she would too. It was fun.

And my day campers were great. We did have a small incident where a child has a little bit of a meltdown and as I was trying to help, being calm, talking in a measured way, a went to pick up their paper that had fallen to thr ground and they kicked the rocks and dirt and it almost hit me in the face and I was shocked. I had to use every strong teacher voice. "Hey. You kicked rocks in my face. I understand you are upset but that was not safe. You need to regulate your emotional responses. Because we both need to have safe bodies and that was not okay." He calmed down and he seemed to understand that I was on his side and was there to help. And we were cool after that.

I keep telling people I have basically infinite patience for one child. That's why I only plan on having one child. I find it serves me well to speak strongly but not yell. I just sound like a baby the few times I have yelled. It doesn't really help much to fix the behaviors around anyway.

After my last day camp groups I expected tipis. But they didn't come. The schedule mistakes had finally gotten me. And I didn't realize. Ugh. I had them scheduled for 230 and 330. They only had 330. Oops. So they were working on camp award stuff. Me and Angel would go down to the feild to find them and see if any of them wanted to come up for extended art. And some did. The rest would join us later on.

We would work on shields and painting and symbols and it was a lot of fun. I always love talking to them. I'll admit I was pretty anxious because I know I needed to leave at 4 for my workshop tonight. And I let everyone know that. And Angel was so sweet and made sure I knew when it was 4. But man was I on edge.

Angel would ask if she could give me a hug before I left and I said of course and good luck on her move and with her art. I left Blanche in charge. Asked her to turn off the lights and close the door. I have so much faith in her.

Right before I left I got a text about some missing steel and flints. I had put them at the Adirondack but apparently they were gone. I would call Heather to discuss and express my worry but hopefully they can figure it out. I didn't have time to go searching I had to go.

It didn't help that I was hungry. And the traffic made that worse so there wasn't time to get something before I went home.

So when I got home at 450 I was a bit on edge. The mailman knocked on my door and he had my new sandals and I was thrilled about that was still upset about food. We didn't have any quick food in the freezer except for chicken nuggets and I didn't want them. And then James was home and they tried to see me feel better but it's hard. We would have to leave pretty quickly. Just enough time to open the mail, and then we were off.

I yelled when we got outside because the wind caught some of my paper James was carrying and it went flying and I was already upset that I didn't have enough print outs. And of course it would be fine but it didn't feel fine in the moment.

James would like separately so they could stop and get us slives of pizza. This would help. I got a really good parking spot and carried my materials inside.

And it would end up being such a wonderful night. I had 10 sign ups, including James. But it would be slow to start. It was more like a pop up then a traditional class in the end. I started with 3 people (including James) and I would go through my talk and explain the steps and got them rolling. But then more and more people joined. And my one one hour workshop because a 2.5 hour drop in and it was honestly great. Had some families. Some single people and some groups of friends. I was having so much fun. The stress and worry was gone. Parker had printed more of my packets. James helped me set out all the spots. I had my pizza and drew out the board. And it was such a fun night.

I would make a little print too and chatted about music and art. I loved having James there. And it was just a really good time.

Once the workshop was winding down I was slowly cleaning up while people were still hanging out and printing. But soon everyone was done and it was time to go. We chatted with Parker and his partner and let their dog. He gave us two free workshop tickets. Amazing. I gotta pick something good.

We went home after that. James biked. I drove. They beat me by a minute. They would help me bring everything inside. We would sit and talk at the kitchen island. But eventually I would go and take a bath and start to get ready for bed.

And I am ready for bed. I am very sleepy. I decided to take off from the market tomorrow because we have Paul and Sam's 10th wedding event in the afternoon. Its not that I'm not looking forward to it, I just really wish I had a day where I had nothing to do but that's not in the cards right now. Just busy busy busy.

So I will spend the morning working on a new enclosure for Crabcake. And then getting James before we go to the wedding event. And it will be a good day.

I hope you all have a good day too. I love you all. Good night!

[mello-jello]

hi jello!! what about post timeskip levihan? commander hanji is working very hard and rarely, rarely sleeps (let alone eats and bathes properly. its worse than before now though.).

what if one time levi discovers hanji passed tf out due to sheer exhaustion in the most weird and random of places. he doesn’t want to wake them up bc hanji def needs the rest so he carries/tucks her into bed.🥺❤️

JAZZY thank you for the prompt! I kind of combined it with this one too:

Thank you, Anon!

Preview:

Hange gave a small laugh before saying, “Thank you Levi, I feel much better now.”

“Tch, you haven’t even done what we came here to do,” Levi scoffed.

Hange made a confused sound.

“Drop the dish.”

It had been 3 years since Shiganshina. Levi climbed into the carriage and sat across from Hange, who was still reading through her notes from the long and grueling meeting that lasted for the better part of the day. All the highest ranking military officials had been called to the capital to discuss Paradis’s best course of action. Queen historia was there, along with her staff, advisors, and of course Zackley. Levi had been to plenty of these meetings before, but this time was different in a bit of a distressing way.

Over the years, Levi had watched Erwin defend the scouts countless times. From questionable means of gathering information, to explaining away hundreds of lives lost, he always had an answer for everything and he always managed to leave with a favourable image. It was something Levi truly admired and even envied about Erwin.

But now he had been watching Hange flounder. She has indeed improved over the last 3 years, but she still doubts herself and while it might not be known to those around her, Levi can’t help but feel sympathetic to her situation. Today however, the other officials had been particularly ruthless.

“Take a break, Hange,” Levi ordered. Hange just sighed. Then her stomach growled. “Have you eaten today?”

“Uuuuuuuhhh,” Hange mused as she genuinely struggled to remember.

“Tch, there’s your answer,” Levi crossed his arms. The rest of the officials had a big dinner scheduled for tonight, but of course the Survey Corps got shafted and had to leave early in order to prepare. Hange met his eyes again with an exhausted look he was all too familiar with.

“How have you been sleeping?”

“Not great,” she admitted. Levi’s stomach sank. He had dealt with his own insomnia his whole life, but it seems worse on Hange. Perhaps it was the stark contrast from her former bubbly and loud personality. Hange pinched the bridge of her nose and let out another long sigh. Levi couldn’t help feeling inadequate and helpless. He rarely got himself to sleep, how could he help Hange?

Levi looked out the window at the setting sun when he got an idea. He realized what Hange had been neglecting while trying to be a good commander. Something that wasn’t just eating and sleeping. Something that was unique to Hange.

“Hange, there’s one more thing you need to do before we leave.”

Hange raised an eyebrow.

Levi told the driver to wait for them and escorted Hange to the dining hall.

“Levi, we were technically invited, but I don’t think showing up for food after we already said goodbye is a very good look for us,” Hange practically whispered.

Levi opened the doors and they were greeted with a sweet aroma of bread, appetizers, and whatever was going to be the main dish. Hange’s mouth watered. The long elegant table was decorated with ornate candles, beautiful china, crystal glasses, and there were 4 sets of cutlery for each place setting.

“Relax, they won’t be here just yet. They will all be busy getting dressed for dinner.”

Hange grabbed a bread roll and took a huge bite, not bothering to chew before she commented, “I never understood ‘dressing for dinner’ ugh. What’s the point?”

Levi was about to make a half hearted comment about how Hange could never fit in with “civilized” society, but he stopped himself when he saw she was eating and was a little bit more relaxed. He found a small plate of savoury looking appetizers and handed it to her. She immediately took one.

“MMM, Levi!” she exclaimed, pointing at the plate. She popped another in her mouth before saying, “you gotta try these!”

Levi put up a hand and said, “you enjoy.”

Hange enthusiastically cleared the whole platter in less than a minute, and Levi was watching her, endeared at the behaviour. He had missed this side of her. Despite how gross it was, there was a glimpse of the carefree Hange he once knew. A small hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Then Hange belched.

“Disgusting,” Levi waved the air in front of his nose.

Hange gave a small laugh before saying, “Thank you Levi, I feel much better now.”

“Tch, you haven’t even done what we came here to do,” Levi scoffed.

Hange made a confused sound.

“Drop the dish.”

Hange’s one eye widened as she processed what Levi was saying.

“C’mon, you need to blow off some steam. They were total assholes to you today, and for what? You didn’t know the exact amount of your food budget? And yet,” Levi gestured to the banquet. He then picked up a delicate looking wine glass. He held his arm outstretched, and loosened his grip, letting it crash to the ground. “Oops.”

A mischievous smile stretched across Hange’s lips. “Oops,” she mimicked Levi and let the empty platter fall to the floor, breaking into dozens of pieces. She slowly started to lap around the long luxurious set up, like a predator admiring her prey before pouncing.

“Right? And Nile, ugh, what a hypocrite! Giving me shit for not knowing about that small thing, belittling me in front of everyone,” Hange snapped a salad plate against the edge of the table. “It wasn’t too long ago when he would have been the first to admit he had no idea what the first interior squad were up to! We had to find out for ourselves. Erwin was almost hanged!” Hange kicked a chair over on its side.

“Yeah, fuck Nile,” Levi egged her on. He took a seat at the head of the table and started sipping from one of the water glasses.

“Is this his spot?”

Levi shrugged but Hange was already pouring out a glass of wine all over the white seat, staining it a deep crimson. Levi hid his delight behind another sip.

“And did you catch what he said at the end? ‘Some of us have wives to get home to’”, she imitated in a mocking tone as she casually pushed a platter of dumplings off the table. “Yeah, run home, Nile. Run home to Erwin’s SLOPPY SECONDS!”

Levi blew water out of his nose, and before he could react, Hange reached under the short side of the table and flipped it over, sending its contents hurtling across the room. Hange was elated at the result, laughing almost maniacally.

“Idiot,” Levi hissed, grabbing Hange’s wrist and leading her out the side door. He heard footsteps, and so he instinctively dove into nearby shrubbery, taking Hange down with him.

They hid in the bushes for minutes, Levi pressing his hand to suppress Hange’s uncontrollable laughter. It had been so long since she’d laughed like this. It was infectious and Levi might have actually laughed himself, were it not for the fear of getting caught. He had no problem telling the MPs where to shove it, but he didn’t want Hange to get in trouble. Her whole body was convulsing, and it was rattling the leaves around her. Levi used all his body weight to stop her jerky movements.

After about another minute of total silence, Hange tapped Levi’s arm, signalling to let go. He was hesitant, but he obliged. Hange drew a couple deep breaths, fanning herself, trying to calm down from laughing so hard. Levi was transfixed by the way the moonlight danced on her tear-stained face. They stared at each other for a moment before Hange snickered once more, causing Levi to cover her mouth yet again. “You’re impossible,” he said, pushing her head back down.

Once the coast was clear, they ran back to their carriage, hand in hand. Partly because Levi wanted Hange to keep up, and partly because it felt nice to hold her hand. They ducked their heads until they were off of the main roads. A few minutes later, Hange started giggling again.

“What?” Levi asked.

Hange bit her lip playfully as she reached into her coat and pulled out a bottle of expensive wine she must have swiped from the banquet.

Levi rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help his smile. She looked like a child that just got away with stealing more dessert. She looked joyful for the first time in a long time. She yanked out the cork and took a swig before offering the bottle to Levi. He graciously accepted and tasted the wine for himself. It was too sweet for his taste, but he couldn’t deny that it was spectacular.

“That’s nice,” he commented.

“Pfft! It tastes the same as the cheap stuff!” Hange scoffed as she took the bottle back. Any other time, Levi would have teased her and started an argument, but not today. He wanted to cherish this moment. He leaned over to look at the stars through his window. Not a bad ending to an otherwise terrible day.

After Shiganshina, he and Hange had lost so much. Their comrades, friends; life as they knew it had completely changed and they barely had a moment’s breather to come to grips with it all. Levi was unfortunately accustomed to it, but Hange wasn’t. Hange had been so strong through all of this and Levi wanted to find the right words to tell her. Maybe it was the exhaustion they both felt; maybe it was the close proximity, but for some reason, somehow, Levi felt a tiny bit of courage surge through his veins.

“Hey, Hange, I-”

When he turned to look at her, she was fast asleep, neck crooked as she cradled the bottle of wine. Levi smiled at her. She looked peaceful, like she was getting quality sleep. He took the bottle from her arms and gently maneuvered her to a more comfortable, lying down position. He removed his jacket and draped it over her, as a make-shift blanket.

“Goodnight, Four-Eyes,” he mumbled to himself and returned to his seat. Hange slept the whole way home. When they finally arrived in the southern barracks, Levi couldn’t bring himself to wake her up. He quickly ran their luggage up to their rooms, and came back for Hange.

Being as gentle as he could, he scooped up the commander and ignored the curious look he got from the carriage driver. She was taller than him, and her long limbs made the trek a little difficult, but he was determined. Her steady breaths tickled the skin of his neck.

He carried her up the winding staircase and into her quarters. He lowered her on the bed, careful not to go too fast. He cradled her head for a split second longer than he needed too. He took off her long boots one at a time, placing them silently on the floor at the end of the bed. He undid the top two buttons of her jacket and shirt, just for comfort. Then he pulled the blanket up to her chin, and tucked around the sides.

Finally, he removed her glasses and eyepatch, caressing the tender skin underneath. Placing them on her night stand, he got up to leave. The door hinge creaked as he opened it, and Hange stirred.

“Mmm Levi?” She called out.

Levi wasn’t sure if she was actually awake, or if she was sleep-talking. He was still deciding whether he should answer when she continued, “Thank you, Levi. For everything.”

“You too, Hange,” he spoke just above a whisper, as he closed her door.

[mrs-hollandstan]

Welcome Home || Harrison Osterfield

Warnings: language I think, mentions of pregnancy, kiddos, Tommo and Haz being cute little loves, minor angst

Word Count: 2,913

Author's Note: I was so torn between this and a dad!Sam fic that I'm O B S S E S S E D with so I still might post it. This one was written a while ago, but with the magic of editing I've made it a little better haha. I hope you guys enjoy!

My Masterlist || Add yourself to one of my taglists

Harrison's schedule made it hard to be apart. You had seen a lot of time away because he and Tom are best friends. The two of them used to always travel together and that excluded you most of the time. But with that, it was always Tom working and Harrison sitting off to the side, facetiming you until his phone literally ran down to the last percentage. But when its him that's working, and he misses his wife and his little boy, it is the hardest thing ever. Hearing him bawl over the phone because you sent him a video of your son being tickled is so so sad. When he facetimes you, he won't even look at the camera, thinking you'll react negatively to him being gone so much, your son growing up without him there most of the time. When he finally did look up, his eyes were red and he kept rubbing tears from them. 

The day he finally came back was sooner than expected. He was expected back on Friday and was back by Tuesday. At first you thought it might be an intruder creeping into your son's room but upon further inspection, you found that Harrison was the more logical explanation and finding his car parked in the driveway confirmed the suspicion. Slowly standing and blinking the sleep from your eyes, you wander down the dark hall to Jackson's room. You smile when Harrison comes into sight, his hair still parted and gelled off to the side, the body of your two year old cradled to his chest. He rocks the little one who's still asleep in his arms, Harrison's head laid over Jackson's. 

"Welcome home soldier." You say gently, Haz's head snapping up, his baby blue eyes sparkling in the moonlight. His hips don't stop swaying methodically, but an exhausted smile crosses his face. Gently laying your little boy down, he takes the few strides forward, dragging you into his arms and dipping you to kiss you. You giggle into his lips, holding his broad shoulders. He stands you straight after a moment, 

"You're so cheesy." You rasp out, covering your mouth and squealing when he raises you in the air, your legs binding around his waist. He chuckles low in his throat, 

"My god I missed you so much." He growls, letting you run your fingers through his hair. You lean in to kiss his nose, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

"We missed you too my love." When your son groans and whines quietly, tossing and turning in bed, Haz sets you down, eyes wandering to the little two year old, 

"If he wakes up can he come to bed with us?" He asks, like he's a second child. You shrug, stroking his shoulders over the long sleeved shirt that sticks to his muscular arms, 

"Sure." Crouching beside the bed, Harrison looks down at his little boy longingly. You remember that look as the same he had on his face the day Jackson was born. The curiosity, the fear, the love; he felt it all, mostly all at once. The way Jackson wasn't planned but you both wanted him. The way you both craved to hold this little human in your arms. And the way when this little baby was laying in Harrison's arms, he was absolutely in love all over again. And it was just the three of you for the longest time, and still. You eloped in secret, keeping it from even your closest friends and family once the stress of having a baby was over. Of course Tom was pissed he wasn't gonna be a best man, but holding Jackson overpowered that. Uncle Tom was just as in love with the little boy staring up at him as Harrison was, and when that little one started to whimper and whine, Tom was on it, calming the baby back down to a neutral temper like only he and Harrison could do. 

"You should go take a shower. I'll bring him to bed for you." You softly say, walking forward and wrapping an arm around him. He smiles, stroking the little one's cheek again as he's broken from his thoughts, 

"Yeah. I'll be right there okay?" Standing and kissing your forehead, he exits the room just as swiftly as he entered, leaving you to lean in and  kiss Jackson's forehead. He whimpers again before his eyes flutter open, blinking a few times before he frowns slightly at the sight of you before him, 

"Momma?" You smile, stroking the sandy colored locks of hair from his eyes, 

"Hi baby. Daddy's home, you wanna see him?" He's suddenly fully awake, sitting up and nodding as he holds his arms out for you. Lifting him, you carry him down the hallway, following the noise into the bathroom where Harrison is vigorously washing his hair,

"Who is that?" You quip down to your son, Harrison quickly rinsing his hair and peeking from behind the frosted glass to smile at the two of you. Jackson makes grabby hands at his father leaving you to giggle as Harrison's eyes flash in panic, 

"Daddy!" Haz swallows, 

"Ahh shoot uhm, just give me one second baby. Lemme finish my shower." You lean against the counter, pressing your lips to Jackson's temple in soft, almost non-existent kisses, 

"We can wait huh? Just stay right here?" Jackson nods, resting against your chest and tucking his thumb in his mouth. You kiss his forehead, 

"We've waited long enough now, huh lovebug?" He nods again, looking up as Harrison turns the water off. Quickly drying himself and wrapping a towel around his waist, he holds his arms out, taking the overexcited boy into them. Jackson snuggles into his father, letting Harrison kiss his hair, 

"I missed you so much buddy. I thought about you every day." You smile, rubbing Jackson's back softly as they just hold each other. Harrison follows you out into your bedroom, watching as you walk to your closet to fetch him a pair of boxers, crouching and letting him step into them before dragging them up his legs. Taking the towel, you gently ruffle his hair and toss it in the hamper, pushing him back against the bed. He practically falls onto it, cradling Jackson to his chest. He holds an arm out when you crawl in beside him, ducking under the covers and wrapping your arms around both boys when he lays Jackson between the two of you. You kiss the back of Jackson's head, finding Harrison's eyes, 

"He missed you so much." You murmur. He nods, moving hair from in front of Jackson's eyes, 

"I know. I missed the both of you so damn much." Wrapping your legs around one of his own, you sigh, rubbing his chest, 

"I love you." He smiles, leaning over your little boy to kiss your forehead, 

"I love you too. I swear to you that if I have to be gone that long you'll come okay? Just for a little bit at least. No more leaving you for that long again." You nod, closing your eyes as he kisses your cheek. He rubs your arm, humming gently to Jackson. When you open your eyes again, he glances up at me, 

"Babe?" He poses softly after a moment. You nod, reaching out to stroke his cheek, 

"Yeah?" He licks his lips and kisses Jackson's forehead, 

"Can we have another baby?" He asks. You smile, his crystal colored eyes searching your own. He sighs, looking down at Jackson, 

"I just want another one. I really want a baby girl. I just want another baby honestly." You nod, running your thumb over his cheekbone, 

“You’ve asked before silly.” You incur. He smiles when you lean in to kiss his nose, 

“And you’ve never told me yes. I just keep shootin blanks.” You giggle again, his lips trapping yours in, 

“I do want another one. I love Jax and I’m not gonna push but-” 

“Yes.” He looks up, his mouth hanging open as he looks between your eyes, 

“Yeah?” You nod, 

“I’ve been thinking about it while you were gone.” You admit. He smiles, 

“You’re amazing.” You giggle, 

“Yeah yeah, go to sleep Mr. Osterfield. All of us are exhausted.” You murmur, leaning in to kiss Jackson's forehead. He nods, rolling on his back. Lifting Jackson, he switches sides with him, laying himself between the two of you. Jackson whines, laying his head over Haz’s shoulder. Haz tsks and kisses his forehead as you drape an arm over Haz's waist, 

“I’m not goin anywhere Jax.” Snuggling into his back, you sigh, 

“I’m glad you’re home Hazzabear.” You mumble in his ear. He hums,

“Me too love, me too.” 

                                                           --- 

Harrison didn’t let the two of you out of his sight for the next few weeks. He was constantly playing with Jackson, insisting that you all be in the same room. Jackson slept in your bed for a few more days after Haz returned, Harrison holding the both of you. The only time it was just you and him was when Jackson was in his room taking a nap, Harrison having set aside this time for the two of you to focus on getting pregnant with baby number two. And around two and a half weeks later he had reshoots during the day which was when you'd discovered his wish had come true. Most times Jackson wanted to go with him which Haz quickly obliged to. One of the days Harrison had reshoots, you were terribly sick, nausea and morning sickness halting any plans you'd made. Growing excited despite the circumstances, you took four pregnancy tests and squealed and jumped around the room when all four came back positive. Quickly running to your local store, you got a few unisex onesies and pacifiers, setting up a small box with the tests and clothes you'd gotten. Nervously cleaning the kitchen, Harrison and Jackson came barreling into the house shortly after, giggling. You smile, leaning in to kiss Haz when he enters the kitchen, 

“How was it?” You ask. He nods, sitting Jackson on the island, 

“It was good. Uncle Tom stopped by so Jax was pretty happy. Got him to play some games we're normally too preoccupied to do.” He explains. You nod, Harrison leaning on the counter on his hands, bumping into the box. He glances back at it and frowned, 

“What’s this darling?” He asks inquisitively. You shrug nonchalantly, 

“I dunno… why don’t you open it, find out.” He quirks an eyebrow before turning to it and taking the lid off. Looking over the contents, it takes only a moment before his eyes widen and his head snaps back up to meet your eyes, 

"Are you serious?" You nod, 

"Found out this morning." You inform. He crumbles to his knees, pulling up your shirt as you giggle. Jackson giggles along with you, looking down at his father, 

"What doing daddy?" He poses sweetly, 

"Mummy's pregnant Jax." Harrison whispers breathlessly, running a hand over your belly. He looks up at you, his eyes sparkling in tears and a soft smile crossing his face when you pinch his chin, 

"Congrats daddy, you've got another baby on the way." He chuckles, sniffling and looking back down at your skin as if he could see the baby. You smile, stroking his hair, 

"Can I tell Uncle Tom too?" You pose. He chuckles again, 

"You'll give Uncle Tom a heart attack." He murmurs. Picking your phone up, you send a quick text to Tom, telling him you'd love to have him for dinner. He replies almost immediately saying he'd love to and he'd be over in ten minutes. 

When he arrives, he hugs you, kissing your cheek and cheerily saying, "'ello darling." He turns to Jackson, lifting him into the air,

"Hey Tommy, there's something for you in that box." You chime, jutting your chin out to the same box Haz had opened. Holding Jax on his hip, Tom struts over to the box, pulling the lid off and peeking inside. Much like Harrison had, it took just a moment and a furrow in his brows for him to understand, his eyes widening as he looks up at you, 

"Jax is gonna be a big brother?" You giggle and nod, 

"You're getting another niece or nephew Uncle Tommy." He gasps, rushing forward and drawing both you and Harrison into a hug, 

"Oh my God guys, congrats!" He cheers. You giggle once more, 

"Thank you." Pulling back, he runs a hand over your belly, 

"Great, another kiddo to spoil. God Harrison, thanks mate." Tom jokes. Harrison smiles and shrugs, 

"I want a little girl." He informs. Tom tsks and cocks his head, 

"I'll steal her. I'll steal that little girl. She'll be the cutest little thing ever and I won't be able to resist her." He tells the both of you matter-of-factly. Harrison shakes his head, 

"You're not stealing my little girl." Harrison murmurs. Tom bounces Jax on his hip, 

"Just imagine it Haz, the cutest baby girl ever layin in a lil Spider-Man onesie her Uncle Tommy gave her." You smile, Harrison laying his hand over your hip, 

"You hear this guy babe?" He asks. You nod, 

"I do. I think he could sneak her out. You know how he is." You joke with a wink shot Tom's way. Tom chuckles, 

"Just saying that if you get a little girl and she ends up missing then there's no need to panic, she's with her favorite uncle." Harrison tsks again, not responding to Tom's pestering. Tom grows bored, looking down at Jax, 

"Are you gonna be a good big brother J?" He asks,, fixing the little boy's shirt. Jackson nods, playing with Tom's watch, 

"You want a little brother or a little sister?" He asks. Jax shrugs, giggling when Tom tickles him, 

"I think you'd do really good with a baby sister little man. I think you'll be a good big brother." He adds. Leaning in, you kiss Harrison's cheek, 

"I think we gotta worry about Haz here. How good of a daddy are you gonna be to a new baby?" You ask. Tom snickers, 

"I mean I can take over your family Harrison, it's no big deal." Tom jokes. Haz frowns, 

"Uhm no. This is my family." You smile, leaning into Harrison, 

"We are your family, regardless though. No matter what, Uncle Tommy is always welcome." You inform. Tom smiles, taking the step forward to wrap his arm around you. Rubbing your back, he leans in and kisses your temple, 

"Thank you love. I love your little family. Its like you're my wife and these are my kids too. You're the sweetest." He tells you. You smile up at him, crinkling your nose and laying your head over his shoulder, 

"Someone's gotta be here when times get tough. And that's the Osterfield family." Tom tsked, 

"You're the sweetest." When the potatoes behind you boiled over,you gasp and turn in their arms, both men chuckling as you pull them off the stove, 

"Why don't you guys go set the table while I finish dinner." Haz nods, leading Tom and Jax off, a steady stream of giggles and the clanking of silverware ringing through the air softly. As you dish the food up, you smile, listening to Tom growl at his nephew, making the little boy squeal,

"Need some help beautiful?" Harrison quizzes quietly, poking his head in the kitchen, 

"Yes please, can you grab these two bowls." He nodded, grabbing the two bowls and following you into the dining room. Tom looks up, smiling as you set a plate before him, 

"Technically you could've left after I told you I was pregnant." You tease. He chuckles, bouncing Jax in his lap, 

"I was invited to dinner, I'm staying for dinner." He mumbles. You smile, sitting between him and Harrison. Looking between them you smile, 

"I love my boys. All three... maybe four of them." You tell them. Tom smiles, laying his hand face up on the table. Placing your hand in his, you take Harrison's too. He smiles, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss the back of it, his eyes glistening in love, 

"I'm so in love with you baby. You put up with all my shit and you put up with my best mate's shit. You married me and had my babies and I don't think I can thank you enough. It's tough, especially when I'm away, but you make coming back so much easier. I love you." Harrison lectures. Tom rubs your knuckles with his thumb when you click your tongue and reach forward to stroke Harrison's cheek, 

"I love you too baby. There's nowhere I'd rather be, no one I'd rather be with than you. You're an amazing husband and father and..." You look to Tom, "assistant." Tom smiles and nods, 

"You're amazing Haz." He concurs. You smile, watching a blush rise to his cheeks. You hold your glass up, 

"To our Harrison. A brave, strong, amazing man." Tom raised his glass, making Jax raise his sippy cup to be just like his uncle, 

"To Harrison." He kisses Jax's forehead, "and daddy huh little dude?" Jax nods, Tom chuckling. Harrison raises his own glass, 

"To my family. My gorgeous wife, my adorable little boy, my new sweet little babe... and my brother." Tom smiles, holding his glass against yours, Harrison clinking the three of them together, 

"To our family." 

Permanent Taglist → @embrace-themagic​ // @t-holland​ // @winters-beauty​ // @lolabean1998​ // @musiclover1263 // @xxtomxo​ // @chillinjules // @sincerelyfan // @srh5605 // @justkeepdreaminganddreaming // @spnobsessedmemes // @hazmyheart // @saltysebastianstan // @counting-eyerolls // @princezzariel // @lilya-petrichor // @20coldhearts // @random-fandomer // @celinexlopez // @itsjusttor // @popluckbih // @takemetooneverlanddd // @marshyrebelcloud // @loveylangdon // @inlovewithmobtom // @bangtan-serendipity // @meg-holland // @localfangirlx // @turtlee-says-rawr // @illicitparker // @chances-and-miracles // @hatterripper31 // @agirlwithpointlessideas // @cassiopeiaskies // @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory // @deviilsangel // @peterspideysense // @hannahholland1811 // @jackiehollanderr // @artsyle // @unbelievableholland // @hollandjmc // @lmao-whats-up // @jbchrisevans // @biebsmylife95 // @sovereignparker // @spideynut // @hardcorefanofeverything // @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh // @softholand // @gab-bones // @emistrash // @quaksonhehe // @supernaturalwriter24 // @myfinalwords // @sleepyhollands // @spiderman-2013 // @a-disappointing-teen-author // @deanismygodwiththatwhistle // @loudlycolorfulkryptonite // @rhyrhy462 // @dorbiksbitch // @joyleenl // @fairydustparker // @unbelievableholland // @justanotherusername80 // @lieswithoutfairytales // @witchyartemis // @thenoddingbunny-blog // @notquitewayne // @slytherinambitious // @dummiesshort // @desir-ae // @love-sick-blues // @sarahm467 // @fanfic-reblogger // @bored-beryllium // @pandaxnienke // @u-rrose // @nj01 // @miraclesoflove // @itsemohours // @aeonian-forever // @troberts2319 // @tempo-rary-fix // @wonderwoman292 // @peonyophelia // @thehumanistsdiary // @hallecarey1 // @keithseabrook27 // @quacksonholland // @white-wolf1940 // @itsbieberxholland // @lokibuckylove6 // @goodgirlgonetom // @tomholland-isbae // @detectiveskully // @gigihydra1 // @chai-parker // @kharshsti // @tomthetease // @carmensandiego // @quxxnxfhxll // @i-love-superhero // @osterfieldshollandgirl // @chubby-cheek-calum // @ilovemypolarbear // @zspideyy // @haleemah // @hennamatildah // @lolooo22 // @tomshufflepuff // @blackbat2020 // @capital-koreasofia // @mathletemadison // @mayra_preciado20 // @warmchick

Harrison Osterfield Tags → @lizzyosterfield // @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh // @kickingn-ames // @icyhollands // @dangerouslovefanfic // @sinisterspidey // @just-here-to-escape-from-reality // @spideysimpossiblegirl // @kharshsti // @hyungaway // @robertpattinson-th // @ilovemypolarbear // @haleemah // @lowkey-holland // @caitie-multifandomwriter // @bibliophilewednesday // @lolooo22 // @roseke // @spideyspeaches // @capital-koreasofia