#i just!!!!!!!!! i want to kiss him on his lil bald sunny head

[burr-ell]

I keep thinking about the end of Downfall and Pelor instinctively protesting the Divine Gate, and then being the last to leave the crash site at Eiselcross. He earnestly wants to be active and involved with helping and protecting mortals, and we've seen it borne out in the campaigns and the lore time and time again. Who helped cast away the elementals and seal Rau'shan and Ka'mort? Pelor. Whose army went to defeat Vecna and stop the Ritual of Seeding? Pelor's. Who pierced Torog's body with thousands of lances of sunlight and enabled him to be imprisoned by Sarenrae? Pelor. Who battled Tharizdun in vengeful fury for Ioun and used the Rites of Prime Banishment for the first time to seal it? Pelor. Who planted the Sun Tree, the tree that would shelter the first de Rolos in Whitestone? Pelor. Who gave Vox Machina a Bead of Divinity without being asked, told them everything he could about how to seal Vecna, and gave them a guide to where they could start looking for Ioun? Pelor. His central commands are to be vigilant, help relieve suffering, and deliver light.

When he took form, it was because he dispelled darkness in order to protect. It's no wonder he weeps, and had been weeping from the moment they left the Factorum Malleus. His resolution at the end of part 3 is not to harden himself or to lose his love for mortals or become harsh and cold; it's to make the choice to leave, to no longer directly protect, and it's a choice that goes against the literal essence of who he is. But it's a choice he knows he has to make, because he's standing at the site where all his light and protection amounted to nothing.

[ursoself-satisfying]

My Sweet Lord (ch2)

hes a lil young here for when how old hes supposed to  be when this stry takes place but its hard to find a non adorable n giggly gif of him lol 

Chapter 2 - I’m On Fire 

Priest!Joe Mazzello x F!Reader, NSFW, ~3.5k words

My Sweet Lord masterlist 

A/N: go listen to holy ghost by modern baseball while u read too cus its rly good,,, anyway this one is a lil dif!!! its a lil bg on the town a lil scene setting n its all about joe now!!! 

special thanks given in this post!! you can find whole accompanying laylists there as well not just single associated songs!!!

Warning(s): sex, religious guilt, some scary images, mentions of ejaculate, uuhhh body horror,,,, i think thats it besides maybe kinda disrespecting ur elders lol ??? 

Father Mazzello had been distracted, to say the least. His newest regular was different, in the simplest terms, and drew his attention in the most tantalizing ways. See, the Oranges was a retiree town in the middle of nowhere, a Bermuda Triangle of the American Midwest. People arrive and they never leave, usually because they die. It was a bit ironic but very fitting to him that the epitome of classic American ideals, though contrasting, collided with ancient human instinct to create this town where the elderly are unequivocally cared for by the young, who remain the bones of the town and keep everything running. You could live and die in the Oranges without ever even leaving them.

The Father had always thought the name was deceiving. “The Oranges” sounded like a small suburb in the wet, hot, muggy parts of Florida, not an old folks zone in middle America. There was some part of him that would always dislike living in a town named “The Oranges”. Maybe it was the priestly side of him, feeling dishonest in their presentation when confronted with their reality, meaning they did not and never have grown oranges there. Maybe it was the sunny signposts standing crookedly beside the worn yellow houses, paint peeling and fences fading, showcasing the poor upkeep of people’s own homes.

He was too harsh, though, because a town, he knew, was not its structures but rather its people, its community. The Oranges had no shortage of smiles, even if they mostly consisted of secondary sets of dentures. That’s what made her smile so different. It was real. Of course, that wasn’t the only reason she stood out, no, it was also her legs, her thighs leading up to her hips, two very real hips, and a waist that would fit so well in his hands and then up a little further where his hands could perfectly cup-

The pencil snapped with a shock and the man blinked at his scribbles, unintelligible now that he’s been broken from his stupor. The lead tip of his pencil rolled in a curved line off his journal then off his desk and he watched it tiredly before glancing at the clock. It was nearly 1 a.m. The clergyman sat back and huffed, taking a moment to assess himself.

His hand had wandered to the crux of his black slacks and he groaned at the hardness beneath the cloth. His groan was unintentional but a needed release as he couldn’t “release” how he really wanted to. His thoughts were clouded with this girl- this girl- He barely knew her name and here he was, fantasizing about her simply because she was the only eligible woman he’d laid his eyes on in nearly a year, or probably more accurately over a year.

‘Why should that even matter to you?’ He asked himself. ‘Why should it matter that she’s eligible? She’s probably not. She probably has a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, even.’ Joe couldn’t help but groan again at the thought of her, pressed against someone else all the ways he wanted her to press against him.

‘Stop it!’ Some voice in the back of his mind hissed. ‘You’re a priest! It doesn’t matter if she’s unavailable! You’re the one who’s unavailable! You took an oath! You made a covenant with the Lord!’ If Joe were a man to curse, this is when he would curse. Instead, he simply moaned in compliance and gave into his conscience, sighing and giving his erection one last squeeze before sliding his hand back up his body, resting it on his open journal. He ripped out the page he’d been working on, the one describing his ‘newest parishioner’ in exquisite detail. No one would ever see that. No one could ever know he experienced such temporal thoughts. He was a priest, after all, he had to set a good example.

He spent the next twenty minutes in a headspace he despised, the one he used to eradicate the want that grew between his legs. It was images of the women in the first row of the church with teeth yellow and denture line visible, their smiles wide and slippery. The men in the back few pews have spots on their balding heads that are sometimes protruding and have hairs only growing there and somehow nowhere else. Joe focused on that, on the lumps and aches they vocalized, on the scratching of their smoke warped voices and the pores like pools on their noses. He thought of the way the hands of the mass shook when they went to place money in the collection basket, the yellow of their nails and the chipped polish on the manicured claws. Their skin was saggy and discolored and their hair is matted and fake and he thinks about what they must look like under their musty Sunday clothes-

He’s soft again, his pants no longer straining and he breathes a sigh of relief, maybe a quiet thanks to God. The priest does his best not to let his mind wander as he lets his feet carry him to his bed where he disrobes, definitely not drifting to imagine how her eager hands would feel pulling his trousers down, nails scraping down his thighs- Joe forced himself to turn the mental image of her tight knuckles to one of chapped and wrinkled ones to keep himself calm. As much as he dislikes subjecting himself to these thoughts, he tells himself he does it for the Lord. The Lord will keep him strong in these times of weakness, he tells himself, in these hours of temptation. He slid into his bed in briefs and an undershirt, letting the softness of his sheets smooth over his skin as it envelopes him and he’s whisked away into a few hours of much-needed rest and revelation.

Your hands had never been softer. It was the only definable thought in Joe’s head when you pushed up his thin shirt. The fabric bunched up over his stomach and you lowered your head to lick a long, wet stripe up from the happy trail disappearing down his shorts.

You were naked, straddling him, hips and thighs curved and soft and outlined by the moonlight that shone in from the cracks in the curtains behind you. The luminescence bounces off the soft tufts of your hair that bunched when your nose hit the bottom of his shirt and you kissed the middle space of his chest reverently. Joe was so wrapped in this moment that he asked no questions. His mind was muddled with lust and want. If you met his needy gaze, you would physically see the fog you caused in his brain, shown in the glazed over eyes that tracked your every move. It was like looking in the windows of a rocking teenager’s car, all steam, and sex behind them.

Your hips ground unconsciously on his crotch where his arousal was obvious and painful and he couldn't keep in his moan. The contact was too much for his near virginal state to handle. Your body, luscious and young and soft, and so easily defiled. It was so sinful. It caused a fire to burn within his loins, reigniting one that had long been a dormant pile of ashes before you came along. Every sway of your breasts as you rose your body slightly from his was another match stricken and thrown to maintain this burn.

Every clench of your thighs around his waist was kindle to feed it. Your undeniable silhouette was gasoline, your ass weighing on his lap was logs and paper, probably journal pages he’s written and hidden of you, but the way you looked down at him, the way your eyes fluttered and your lashes fell, the way your mouth puckered and curled and glistened, that was the first page of the book to burn. One by one, page by page, you would rid him of his religion, strip him of belief until all that existed was you.

And he was fine with that.

Again, Joe felt the contact of your soft pussy pressing over his aching cock and his hand instinctively reached for your hair, tangling his fingers in your locks while his other five went to squeeze at your thigh. Every desperate touch from him was a message; ‘You’re gorgeous,’ ‘please touch me,’ ‘I need you.’ He was practically tracing the letters into your leg as his hand slid down to your knee then back up to your waist. He was still laying down while you were straddling him and grinding against him, occasionally letting your hands wander, pushing up his shirt and licking the skin you could reach without stretching. You had leaned forward to suck at his neck and the holy man about died and ascended to heaven when he felt your tits on his chest and your lips on his neck simultaneously. Your nipples were hard, enough so he felt them drag over his exposed skin when you arched your back and left bruises at his jaw.

Being so focused on your lips, Joe had lost track of your hands. His were on your ass, groping and kneading with silent adoration, but yours had moved from mussing his hair to tugging at his briefs. The man gasped when your hips left his and then, with a swift and sudden motion, his underwear was yanked down and you giggled. Joe, however, did not giggle. The exposure was shocking and the cold was unwelcome, making his cock twitch and sending a shiver up his spine. It was in this moment that Joe finally took in your image, the bite of the cold shaking him from his focus on just how you felt.

All his other senses were hazy and the man of the Lord was overwhelmed. You were glowing. Your hair was feathered and voluptuous. Your skin was velveteen and your body belonged in a temple, deserving of an altar and endless worship. He would have sworn he witnessed a halo form around you as well, a golden line connecting one shoulder to the other in a shining arch. Your smile was soft and distracting, but his gaze persisted down your body full of admiration and curiosity. Your chest was supple and your stomach plush, just like your hips and thighs, all there for him to appreciate.

He sat up to improve his view, allowing himself to be in much closer proximity to you, able now to bask in your scent, sweet and innocent. Then he laid his larger hands on your breasts for the first time. He was almost worried the metal of his rings would surprise you, being cold on your hot skin, but you had no reaction. Kneading with slow gentle movements, he slid his thumb just barely over your nipples, hard and sensitive for him.

Somewhere in the back of his throat, a question was lost, a search for approval that got stuck on its way out, but it didn’t seem to matter as your constant blissful smile was encouraging enough. He didn’t question any of it.

Quiet hums vibrated in your throat and your half-lidded gaze motivated the priest to feel more of your body, squeezing at your waist and ass again and leaning forward to drop unpracticed kisses to the valley of your chest. You laced your fingers in the back of his hair, cradling his skull and holding him to your skin, but when his thumb brushed over your clit, you stopped him. His wrist was caught in your grip in a quick and unexpected move that stopped him from further touching you.

His breath hitched, fearing he’d done something wrong with the way your eyes bore into him, cutting through the silence and bringing him to the reality of what you were doing. Joe felt like he could only inhale, nothing coming out when he tried to push his breath away. He swallowed dryly and your expression softened ever so slightly, dropping his hand to instead wrap your digits around his cock and maneuver it to swipe between your folds. The wetness gathered in your sex and on his tip made for easy entry as you lowered yourself slowly, lashes fluttering and mouth falling open. The man choked on a protest but swallowed it with a moan when his head was sheathed in you, warm and tight and ideal.

Joe couldn't focus on anything. It was all happening so fast for him, a blur of skin and sweat. You bounced on him expertly and he fell limp at your abilities, a sputtering mess as your buoyant tits mesmerized him. Your hot, heavy breaths rained down on him and showered him with increased want, but he was unable to act upon it, struck dumb by a higher force, and that force was the look you gave him, accompanied by a breathy sigh and a smile when you settled fully on his shaft. He hadn’t realized but he had been holding his breath as you rose slid down him again, audibly slick and aroused. At that moment, the world vanished from around him, all fuzz and static, and all he knew was you and the way you felt, sleeved around him perfectly, undulating and flexing with an ever subtle thrust of his, impulsive and quick, needy and natural.

Your speed increased suddenly though, and the priest, barely holding on as it was, couldn’t contain himself. Speaking in tongues of love, he groped at you, searching for an anchor to his physical form as an ethereal feeling washed over him, his orgasm imminent and monumental. It was an out of body experience for the servant of the Lord, greater than any religious bliss he’d yet to experience. He could see himself beneath you, his face contorted as yours glowed with elation and he came inside you. He could feel you pulsing around him and heavenly choirs invaded his ears, the stimulation shrouding him in your presence.

What occurred next was warped and surreal. He was still inside you, coming down but still hard and you were still smiling but the air turned sinister and smelled suddenly not of your scent but of sulfur and lavender. You turned into a shadow over him, no longer a source of light, but rather the opposite; a source of darkness. That’s when your skin began to slip from its place on your skull. Melting like wax, he thought, but his comparison was wrong, so wrong because there were no hot drips hitting his stomach and your hands didn’t begin to pool at his bellybutton. No, instead your soft hands turned to leather and the familiar spots of discoloration and sun exposure began to blossom across your shoulders and chest. He could see your veins, one by one, rise up on your skin on your straining legs. Your breasts sagged and your stomach folded over. Your smile went wider as your lips thinned and eye crinkled, every line on your face growing deeper until he felt the first wisps of your fading white hair fall on his legs. Your nails began to dig into his lower stomach as they grew and then he fell the first few cold objects hit his heated skin. One by one, two by two, teeth, rotted black and yellow, bounced off his chest when you leaned forward.

Joe wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. Maybe he was already, he couldn't tell. By now he assumed his vocal chord had been removed sometime in the night because, still, nothing came out. He tried, he forced all the air in his lungs out his tense lips like a coastal storm blowing in. He was the winds and the waves and the crashing sounds of ocean on rock and sand as he struggled to break free from the growing weight of the body still on top of him, still around him; shaking, twisting, tears streaming down his red face. You were death holding him down, boney legged and saggy skinned, every part of you being pulled with more strength every second towards your home in hell. He didn’t know what to do with his hands so they flailed at his sides as yours slid up his body with the same disturbing gummy, black smile looming over him and all he wanted at that moment was for it all to stop and disappear.

The sweat on his forehead rolled down the sides of his face and collided with the tears that were apparently seeping down his cheeks as well. The tears were hot and the sweat was cold and Joe’s entire face felt numb and damp, and it was. His whole body was. His undershirt was soaked through and his neck shiny and dotted with perspiration. He shot up out of bed, sitting upright with wide eyes as he shook as he frantically assessed his surroundings. The desk was still messy, his journal still out, the lamp was off, the window closed and the door locked. Fear still seeped through his bloodstream and ran from his face to his toes. It was electric emotion that coursed through his body, one that he couldn’t shake and that left his hair standing on end. It was deep beneath is skin, a nestled sense of discomfort. No amount of his unconscious physical shakes could rid himself of it.

He rocked back and forth on his bed for a while, the images of his dream never leaving his head, haunting him like some cliche victorian ghost. His tremors subsided but he wouldn’t be going back to sleep that not, not after that. The drastic shift had gouged a wedge in his heart, one that was now filled with questions and doubts, second thoughts. The fire in his loins burned brighter and hotter and blacker, smoke rising from it in dangerous, polluting amounts.

Upon the onset of further physical discomfort in the form of a cold patch on his briefs, he opted to spend the rest of his night in the shower, not only washing the shameful premature ejaculate from his underwear, but also his dream from his body, the dream he could only assume was a punishment for his earlier sinful thoughts. On one hand, he was washing her touch away, her soft, sweet, innocent touch that couldn’t be wrong, but on the other hand, the abomination that she’d been warped into left a film over him that didn’t seem to wash off.

Joe believed in signs and symbols. He believed that God spoke to you in natural ways, every day. The advertisement on the bus next to you at that red light this morning or the constant re-emergence of one specific suggestion throughout your day, seeing the same person everywhere you went, it was a message from God. “There are no such things as accidents or coincidences,” he preaches, “everything here God has preordained. It is predestined and meant to be.” He thought of her, meeting her and her timing. “Trust that this is the Lord’s will.”

This must be a sign. He thought of all the examples of prophetic dreams in the Bible, all the times the Lord has used this outlet to speak to his servants. Joseph, Jacob, Daniel, Solomon, Nebuchadnezzar- But what did it mean this time? The object of his unsanctioned affection decaying on top of his, immediately post-coitus. It scared him, the implications of it, but it also scared him that he had the dream at all, if he was honest. It was intense. Not only was it erotic, but also scarring. What did it mean for him and his faith? Part of him wanted to brush it aside and ignore any allusions his subconscious was trying to get to him. He wanted to, for once, turn to science to deny the religious answers to his issue, telling himself it was just a projection of some kind of worry, but that would mean he would have to admit to himself he was worried about her, around her, because of her. He would have to acknowledge the effect she had on him and he didn’t want to. He wouldn’t give in to this moment of weakness, so instead he scrubbed his soiled underpants at three in the morning and tried to wash the nightmare from his mind with Shout and bar shampoo, ignoring the heavy dread building in his chest as the hours counted down to Sunday morning, when he would face his congregation of elders and one woman he couldn’t ban from his mind if he wanted to.

He fell asleep at approximately 4:30 in the morning, face flat on the side of his tub, one hand caked in dried soap and the other clinging desperately to his still clearly stained boxer briefs. He didn’t dream this time, and for the first time he was ever aware of it, he was grateful he didn’t.

[nongbabe]

Watermelon - Roomate Mark Lee

this scenario is entirely based off of this gif not going to lie

Scenario: Mark Lee just really likes watermelon and also you 

okay so you’ve been roommates with make lee since the beginning of sophomore year

you wanted to live off campus to save some money 

and mark was sick of living with a swarm of guys who never seemed to do dishes

and hey less people less mess

also you’re pretty tidy yourself so it was extra good

anyway you guys had a few mutual friends and they  ended setting you two up not actually but also kinda actaully lmao they ship it roommate wise

your both juniors now, it nearing the end of first semester so you guys have gotten pretty comfortable with each 

like really comfortable you tell each other everything

everything excluding one maybe significant factor in your guys relationship...

and somewhere down the time line of living in such a small apartment together that factor became more and more signifigant

maybe it was from him constantly walking around the apartment with just a towel on after a shower or him not wearing a shirt during the early fall and late spring because your ac doesn’t work right

maybe it was the time he made you breakfast when you were sick in bed 

and by made i mean he attempted to fry and egg and it didn’t work

so he put a bagel in the toaster bc even he cant mess that up he almost did though good thing you don’t mind extra crispy

maybe it was simply his smile or his sense of humor or his laugh

ah but no matter what or when it was 

you had fallen for him. hard. and probably more quickly than you cared to admit

and hed done the same just neither of you were sure enough of each others feeling or confident enough to let the other know

but it doesn’t matter not that much any way

you were happy enough just spending lazy days in with him watching movies or just chatting sometimes when it was raining sometimes when it was perfectly sunny out

you were happy just having him drag you out of the apartment to go on adventures kayaking, squirrel chasing, trying out fencing club even if you both really suck

or sometimes he’d even bring his own adventures home like board games or a random diy project 

never let him convince you to paint the ceiling again ever he looked hella cute with paint all over his face tho

or sometimes he would just bring home random things from the store?

like one day he brought home a watermelon and youre not really sure why bc its the middle of winter and watermelons aren’t in season?? he fckn love watermelon thats why look at his smile in the watermelon gif i wish i was a watermelon

“It was on sale y/n I had to get it. There were only 5 left. What if someone else bought all of them” 

“Someone must really love watermelon to buy 5 at once, crazy man”

“…..”

“hey remember when you bought 7 and couldn’t figure out how to get them home because you rode your bike to the mart an-” and he deadass covered your mouth with his hand boi

“shhhhhh, we don’t need to talk abt that right now y/n just help me cut it up okay”

You guys, with a lot of difficulty and some very dull knives finally cut the watermelon into slices 

hes a full slice kind of lad not a cube dude

if it was already pre-cubed like at a party though he would sill eat it

its watermelon

and then you would cut up the watermelon

and mark would be so !!! so excited

be really love watermelon

its just so sweet!! and watery!! and melony!!!!

and you and him would bite into it and...

ehhhhhh 

and it would kinda be flavorless

like not sweet at all

“it’s not that bad, Mark.. okay? you did your best picking one out”

and Mark would do that thing

that sad Mark thing

the :c the sad pouty disappointed look 

Nobody wants a sad :c mark

so you kinda run your fingers through his hair and push a few loose strands

Its starting to get long. You like it though. It gives you more of an excuse to run your fingers through it

You pulled him into a tight hug, one of those really really squeezing the air out of your lungs tight warm ones, one of those hugs that you could easily play off as friendly, silly even

But wow was your heart beating fast and your palms shaking

Mark would freeze at first out of surprise but the pout would go away!!

He would just be a bit caught off guard. That’s why he’d go a bit stiff initially. You weren’t really the type to hug him so out of the blue You were more of a cuddle when sleepy, or intoxicated, kind of human, a lot lett straight forward

He really liked it though really really

So much that he would relax and rest his hands on the small of your back rather than just stand there like a statue. Which is what he ‘claims’ he usually does when people hug him just like he ‘claims’ he doesn’t like skinship bloody liar

but the whole time his heart is going crazy and hes so concerned youre gonna notice but also he really likes hugging you

your skin feel cool and nice against him especially because he feels like hes on fire but

wow are you pretty and wow does he like you 

but you don’t need to know that bc that would make living together awkward but it wouldnt be bc u like him too otherwise we wouldn’t be reading this now would we jc

And finally concerned mark would take over and he would suddenly pull away and ‘cough’

“??”

“Ahh I just remembered I have to finish that chem lab report is all”

“we finished that together a week ago Mark?”

“…i meant essay”

“but didn’t yo-”

but he would already be running away and locking himself in his room

well as best he could bc he still doesn’t have a door 

he broke it off of its hinge they day you guys moved in mark you cute disaster 

but you still try and not bother him if he goes in his room

privacy and such

and you’d be confused but also freaking out

oh my god what did you just do what if you pushed the bounds what if things are weird now what if mark doesnt talk to you anymore and stressssssssssss 

A few minutes later you would hear his shower turn on

like this kid

i thought you said you had an essay lying hoe

anyways hed come out of the shower like 15 minutes later 

hes not fast at showering bc boi needs time to shampoo after all those wackado hair syles he gotta keep from getting bald ya know

also he needs time to think bc wow do you make him crazy

and hed walk out into your little ‘living room’ and sits on the floor because you guys still havent gotten a couch even though its over a year since the two of you have lived together

and you finally threw away that makeshift cardboard furniture from removing in earlier this semester because mark didn’t just fall through them one he kEPT breaking and getting stuck in them

so to save the boy anymore embarrassment you threw them out together

anyway so he sat on the floor looking all cute mark like in typical mark attire

“hey y/n can you come here. I gotta talk to you for a sec”

but youre already talking??

but you wouldn’t question it

mark’s tone of voice was pretty serious tone to his voice which didn’t happen frequently

so you walked over by him and briefly sat on the floor before laying your head on his thigh

bc he in much more comfortable than the carpet and you werent really a criss cross apple sauce kind of gal at least not when mark was around bc as;doije;dfihw;erio

hed reach down and stoke your hair and close your eyes and hum slightly

“y/n” You’d hum again keeping your eyes closed and enjoying his close proximity

and youd kinda lay like that for a few minutes

and just as you were about to drift off to sleep he stopped playing with your hair

youre eyes open slowly, confused

and then Mark leaned down and before you could process what was happening he was kissing you

and you would have to fight to not break into a giant smile

because finally you were starting to think that maybe you were just a friend to him

but nope bc now ur making out lol not really tho its just a sweet kiss and not super long or agressive

he pulled away, scratching the back of his neck while give you that side smile of his almost sheepish one, but more flirty than sheepish 

he kinda mumbled almost what sounded like an apology, but he really didn’t look that sorry and he certainly didn’t feel it i mean neither did you cute boy mark lee just kissed you

“you taste like watermelon” you roll your eyes

his smile spread into a full blown grin and his lil nose scrunched up. he kissed your nose.

he chuckled and semi-jokingly licked his lips “but tastier than the one we just had”  You cupped his cheeks and pull his face towards yours.

!!!!!

[tiemeupspidey]

Heading Home Back to You

Can’t Help Falling in Love with You Series

Relationship: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Tom and Zendaya are flying to London to start a tour for Europe. Jaxon,Tom’s son Facetiae’s his Aunt Zaya to show his dad something he learned.

Warnings : Cute fluff, Tom as a Dad, Reader is battling Cancer.  Tom swears cause he does IRL and I do too :,)

Word Count:1,400+

A/N: One of my favorite series to write because I know I can’t have kids sadly so Jaxon is a dream son I would want. Little fact about me sorry lol Enjoy my loves xx

[Reader’s POV]

   Tom was heading home from his us tour tonight and heading to London for the first part of their Europe tour. You knew he was going to be wide awake now and jet lagged when he gets home the next day. The time zone he was in was much later in the day. In London it was an odd sunny day,still cold enough to wear a long sleeve.It was better than living somewhere hot.

“I guess I’ll tend to the roses” I muttered getting up from the couch Tessa and I were laying on. She got up as well at my sudden movement. Jumping off the couch she padded along beside me.

“C’mon Love, let's make sure they look nice for when Daddy gets home” I smile rubbing her soft head. She barks happily running out the door once I open it. Closing the screen so the bugs don’t get in.  The small sun rays felt good against your skin. Your body chilled from your medication you were taking. Your bald head was wrapped in a bandanna.

“Mumma! Aunt Zaya is on the phone, she says she misses me”Jaxon smiles holding the phone to his ear. You laugh as he attempts holding your Iphone 7 plus to his ear. He calls her Aunt Zaya cause it’s easier to say than Godmom Zaya.

“Little star, how bout you press Facetime?” I say setting the hose down. Walking over I take the phone setting it on the table. Pressing the button Zendaya’s face pops up on the screen. Picking Jaxon up I set him in a chair so he could see the screen. Shock on his face as he looks between the phone and you.

“Zaya you’re in mumma’s phone?! I didn’t know you were a magi-magician too!” Jax smiles in amazement at the screen. He always forgets that you can Facetime on the phone. You couldn’t blame him he’s four.  Plus Tom and I don’t allow him to be sucked into a tablet playing those ridiculous apps. The only thing he could play were with his toys, and his video games.

“Hey lil bug, how was your dance class the other day?” her voice coming through the speaker.

“Zaya I can do a turn like daddy can!” He says proudly with a grin. One of his canine teeth fell out so he looks adorable.

“Well I don’t believe it till i see it! Hold on let me go find your daddy on the plane” you hear her shuffling in the background. Jaxon slides off the chair doing a little stretch. He really wants to be just like his dad so he wanted to take dance classes.

“Thomas wake up, your offspring is going to do something cute!” she yells at your husband. Grabbing the camera you switch it to the back camera. Tom comes into view with his eyes looking dead. His stubble was coming in and his mustache was growing too. Zendaya squishing her face near his so they could see the phone together. He looks at her rolling her eyes letting out a chuckle.

“Okay baby just like we practiced earlier, spot me okay ?” I say as he gets in his prep to turn.

“C’mon lad I know you can do it”  Tom leans forward a bit. You could see the excitement in Tom’s face.

“1-2” Jax steps in second.

“Tom move your face!’ Zendaya laughs shoving him.

“3-4” He preps to get ready.

“He’s my son!” Tom argues moving his head back.

“He’s my godson!”she retorts back smushing her face back in the frame.

“5-6” Jaxon does a turn smoothly, his little arms in a perfect circle.

“7-8” he says happily landing throwing his hands up in the air.

“Yes my little star! You did so well, soon you can do a double.. Practice makes perfect” I smile down at him giving him a highfive. Turning the camera around I pick him up and hold it infront us. Kissing Jaxon’s head as Tom and Zaya praise him.

“Tom you can use my phone till yours charges, I’m going to sleep just bring it over when you’re done with it.” Zaya blows kisses to Jaxon before leaving the frame.

“What happened to your blue jacket from earlier?” I ask noticing he was in a grey one now. He sent me a snapchat of himself in the blue one a couple hours ago.

“I dropped a bagel with cream cheese on it and when I wiped it off it wouldn’t come off and Harrison made fun of me, fucker” he laughs but stops realizing what he just said.

“Thomas” You glared at him. He’s lucky he isn’t here because you would have bonked him on the head.

“Mumma what’s f-fuck?” Jax asks looking up at you. Your eyes opening wide at your son.

“Jaxon Zander Holland.. We don’t say that word understand?” I scold him with a stern voice.

“But daddy said it!” he pouts pointing at your phone.

“Daddy is getting a punishment when he gets home, you will too if I hear you say that word again… Now go play with Tessa babe” I sigh setting him down onto the grass near his toys.

“What’s this punishment I’m getting? You’re making me feel like a school boy with his teacher” he grins cheekily.

“Thomasss” You laugh loudly as your cheeks heat up. He can be so naughty minded.

“There’s that smile I love so much” he sighs in content looking at you.

“You’re still in trouble,don’t think your cheeky remarks will get you out of this one!” I say pointing a finger at him.

“You know you can’t stay mad at me love” his smile says it all, you knew it was true. He was impossible to stay mad at.

“I’m blaming it on you if he says a bad word at school Tom” I say to him heading back inside after setting the sprinkler up. Jaxon follows shortly after coming in the house. His Spider-man and Iron Man action figures in hand.

“Can I go with you to your next appointment darling?” Tom asks scratching his stubble that’s been starting to form on his jaw.

“Y-yes it’s actually in two days ba-” Jaxon tugs on your shirt making you look down.

“What is it my little star?” I ask tilting his chin up with your finger.

“Mumma you don’t have to go to the white place again do you?” he asks with little tears in his eyes.

“Baby love, your daddy and I are just going to ask the doctor if mumma is still doing okay.. I will never leave you..” I whisper kneeling down pulling him into my chest.

“Don’t worry lad, mumma is going to be fine hopefully we will get some great news” Tom’s voice lightening up the mood. Jaxon grabs the phone holding it so he could see Tom.

“Daddy will be back for a little while and you can play legos with him, everything is going to be okay” My lips pressing kisses to his head. Ruffling his curls I stand back up heading towards the kitchen.Setting down my phone I pull out a mug. Tom’s long sleeve shirt rising up exposing your skin.

“Darling we have much to discuss when I get home” his grin mischievous as you tug it back down to cover your ass. You were lounging in his shirt ‘cause you missed him. What can he tell you,no? You were going to wear his shirts regardless.

“Stop staring at me like that” I laugh crossing my arms over my chest.

“You’re so gorgeous, look at that smile… How am I so lucky? Are you sure this is real?” he teases looking at you in disbelief.

“Tom..this is real, we have a child together you idiot” Hitting my palm against my forehead.

“Y’know I’m such a lucky man to have a wonderful woman like you.. I love you babe, I don’t want to waste Zendaya’s battery give Jax a kiss from me when you send him off to bed” Smiling he blows you kisses while you saying all the I love you’s before he has to go.

   Ending the call you plug your phone into the charger. Walking upstairs to see Tessa and Jaxon passed out together in his room. The both of them sharing his Spider-Man blanket. Watching your son’s chest rise and fall for a few minutes. Closing the door you make your way to bed. Everything was fine but it feels more complete when Tom’s home. It’s never fully the same without him there with you all.