#jameson is real ❤️ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stardancerluv · 3 months ago

Text

A Time to Love and to Fight

Part Thirty - Two

Summary: While enjoying the city they live near, Reader is visited by the past. Enjolras is confronted by his past and his future.

Warning/Notes - No real warnings. Just building dread.

eau de Cologne - how cologne was referred to

reticule - a type of purse for a woman in the past.

Sorry about the time between chapters. I wrote and rewrote this alot!!! It’s a long chapter with a flashback.

❤️s, comments, reblogs & feedback is always welcome!

You delighted on watching Enjolras. He spoke easily with the harbor master. His air and command of the situation made you happy. He was firm but pleasant and never belittling.

As they pointed into the bay, you followed their fingers pleased that you could also spot the ship. You gave a moment of pause in gratitude that your time of traveling on the water was over.

Oddly, you were reminded of the stories those women shared of their husbands still gave you shivers. You could never be wed to such beasts. Just as you were pleased with him, the baby shifted within you, made you believe they were pleased to too. You laid a gentle on your stomach.

Turning, he smiled and walked towards you.

“The ship is on an easy and straight course for its arrival. The master spoke of how I should bring you to shops and buy you something nice.” A smile played on his lips.

You gave him a sweet smile. “You don’t have to.”

“I don’t know, I may want to.”

You rose your eyebrows. “We have bought so much for our home. Are you sure?”

He nodded. “My dear wife, I do believe I should have given you something a long time ago.”

Taking his arm you followed him as he led you away from the docks.

You looked around making sure you stepped carefully. “Us, here and safe is enough.”

He squeezed your your hand. “As much as I do not enjoy extreme excess, you need some possession especially since you are the lady of our household.”

“Thank you, my love.”

*******

“Good day, Sir Julien.” Greeted a kind looking older man, he was wiping his hands on a cloth. He stopped upon seeing you. “Oh? Is this the lady of the house?”

You nodded and glanced up at Enjolras. He smiled down at you.

“Dear, this Mr Jameson. He has supplied our home with many treasures.”

“You have parted with many different items.”

He nodded. “I am sure your house is much grander for it.”

“It is.” You nod. “Thank you.” Slipping your arm free, you wandered away as the two began to speak of other items he may or may not be receiving soon.

The house, that you and Enjolras were now were residing were becoming quite grand. It reminded you of your home before the disappearance of your father. It had held several treasures before having sell them so that your mama and you could keep the home.

You sighed and continued to look at all the great items that remained. Some of which shifted your mood and made you relieved that Enjolras had such good eye. You would have been aghast to have them.

You were drawn to an array of some powder boxes. They made you smile. Looking at a few, you were reminded of one night when mama was preparing for one of the parties her and father would be hosting. She had opened one of her elegant boxes and gave her bosom a dusting. You had been watching, peering actually in from the bedroom doorway.

“I see you my sweet little cabbage. Would you like to be like mama and have some perfumed powder tonight?”

You nodded. You hurried over. Stopping, you stood tall while also attempting to be as elegant as you could.

A warm giggle came from her. “Ok. Close your eyes.”

You squeezed them shut. Next you felt a soft brush on your nose. The sweet scent of honeysuckle filled your nose.

“Perfect.” She said with a gentle air. “Now you are all ready for the party.”

******

He was pleased to hear that the cradles had come in. You being here was timely. He could not and would not have wanted to decide on one or even two without your guidance.

“I will go and find her. I am sure she is enjoying the sight of your treasures.”

“Treasures.” He made a dismissive gesture. “They are what makes a household, a home.”

He nodded. “They are that.”

The floor boards creaked under his boots as he walked down another aisle where he spotted you. As he drew closer, he saw a faraway look eyes.

“Ange?” He whispered, wrapping an arm around you.

You glanced up. “I…I…”

He smiled. “You looked terribly faraway my love, where were you?”

“I was.”

You replied with a soft smile that had a trace of sadness to it. You pointed to the powder boxes in front of you.

“They remind me of mama.”

You pointed to the porcelain boxes in front of you.

“Oh? Look at those.”

He drew from you and looked down at them and back at you. He knew how he treasured the glass bottle that held the sharp aftershave that his father gave him.

“Choose among them what you wish to have and they will be yours.”

You brought a gloved hand to your lips, in the muted light he could see happiness brighten them.

“Yes.” He nodded. “They will have a wonderful place on your vanity.”

*****

You held onto two of small boxes and were wrapped tightly in cloth. You could not wait to place them on your vanity. They were perfect.

******

Now, a new happiness filled you at the sight of them sitting there. Berceaux, cribs bassinets all for you and Enjolras to choose from for your baby. You brought a hand to your growing belly as you considered them.

It took some time, testing the ease of the rocking and evaluating the size. Also, you had to make sure none made too much noise when it moved. In the end, Enjolras and you settled on three of the five that stood in front of you. One for you Enjolras’s private chambers, one for the child’s respective nursery and another that they could easily move around if they wished to sit in the gardens or the library and wanted to have the baby with them.

“I will wrap these up in haste.” The man older man patted one of them. “I will fetch Edmund. Together, we will bring these down the docks.”

Enjolras nodded. “Good. Thank you.”

******

The ship surely has arrived by now, if he had learned anything these last few months the timing of ships in clear weather was becoming familiar to him.

Turning to you. with a gentle ease of his hand on your lower back. He made his way with you out to the cobbled street.

“Angel, I will walk you to the perfumery. That is where I found the ones that have already brought the most pleasant scents to the airs of our chambers and for you to feel even lovelier.”

“Is it close?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “And then I will return to the docks and check on the arrival of the boat.”

******

You watched as he spoke warmly with the gentleman in the worn brown coat whose collar looked especially stiff. But had a soft demeanor.

Turning, Enjolras closed the distance between the two of you once more. “Love, this is Mr. Barlowe. He can assist you while I go and check on things with the harbor master.”

“Thank you.” You turned and smiled at the man.

********

Enjolras enjoyed having you along. Though a cloud, a shadow of worry did chase his ankles. Though keeping you tucked away at the estate disliked more.

With it being such a lovely day, he was relieved you were having a good day. The baby was being good to their mama by not giving her any light headedness. That pleased him.

“Oh! Excuse me good sir.” He quickly said as he collided with someone stumbling out of the bar.

Turning in the direction in which the man fell, the man had sprawled.

“I am terribly sorry, sir. Thoughts had clouded my vision.”

He offered his hand. The man took it. He had a very firm grip.

“And drink had made my feet unsure of themselves.”

Their eyes met and chuckle had blossomed and was shared.

“Well, I must be on my way.” He gave the man a quick smile.

******

He had been right. His pleasure on being correct, gave him a flush of confidence. He needed it.

The boat after its journey groaned and creaked as it anchored at the dock.

He’d never breath the words into existence but fleeing had give him a thorn of discontent in his side. Logic, his heart told him he had made the correct decision. There was no doubt or second thoughts lingering in his heart.

Though there was a sliver of pain that sometimes cut deep as the thoughts, the memories of Courfeyrac or Grantaire or even small Gavroche or the elder Mabeuf paid him a visit. He glanced down at his scared hand that he used to lean against the wooden posts at the dock while he waited.

******

“Sir, I mean Officer Gerard, are you alright? I knew I shouldn’t have allowed you free of my arms this early.” The bar maid fluttered around him.

He dusted himself off, eyes narrowing as he watched the younger man walk away. He gave the barmaid who had been warming his bed a half smile.

“Do you know who that is my sweet cabbage?”

The woman glanced and smiled back at him. “Of course, I do my love.”

The woman dragged out that last word, love. He wasn’t quite sure how it made him feel. In the past, he’d backhand some for using it so casually. Yet, now It had been an age since anyone spoke of him in such a manner.

“That is Sir Julien. Newly arrived on our ground with a wife who is blossoming with life while he has the flair of a gentleman.”

With a tilt of her head he could see a tide of worry was over her.

“Is there something the matter? You would surely like him. He drinks and plays cards as well.”

He shook his head. “No but our paths did just crash and it left me curious. He seemed almost too polite for this region.”

“He sounds like you.” A giggle came from her. “Am I too polite too since you took a liking to my company?”

“Perhaps.”

********

“Sir, sir is that steady enough?”

A sharp voice took his attention away from the water that slapped against the wooden haul.

It was his mother. His heart leapt as his stomach churned. His feet ushered him over to where she would step foot.

“Mother?” All that he could possibly remained in his mouth.

Despite a tiredness having blanketed her usual refined and elegant appearance she smiled. “It took some arguing but I convinced your father to allow me passage to go and see you.”

“I did get my stubbornness from the two of you. What made him finally allow you?”

“Reason. Someone needs to keep an eye on the estate.”

“And despite him always being quite cold, you always brought some warmth from him however small.”

“It is my charm and wit that I feel blessed to have passed onto you, my son.”

******

With the occasional sniff from a handkerchief you finally were able to settle on eau de Cologne for Enjolras. You were not sure what he would think of it. But it did remind you of him. Memories, of how he had looked striding over to you with that white billowy shirt, those trousers and black shiny boots still stirred your heart.

“I will wrap this so it is ready when he returns.”

“Thank you.” You replied softly.

*****

The door jangled as you went to stand just outside the shop. The air with all of its scents had grown too heavy for you. Gently wrapped and tucked away in your reticule, the cologne was safe. You held the strings that

Shops, streets were different in England, you mused looking at your new surroundings, the urge to explore was strong.

Though a fluttering came from the baby as they shifted within you.

“Are you awake?” You whispered, gently patting your stomach.

The warmth of your love for them came over you. You were learning that you had to keep not only yourself safe but them as well. Waiting, for Enjolras’s return you took in the small street and other shops. Distantly, you could hear hushed voices with the occasional peel of laughter from opening and closing of a pub’s door.

You watched as Enjolras rounded the corner. As you watched he paused heavily against a wall. He looked as if something happened. Your heart squeezed hard. Not uttering a word you began to make your way over to him.

His eyes met yours as you neared. A few of his curls fell into his brow but didn’t hide the look you saw in them. It stole your breath.

******

The arrival of his mother excited him and worried him. He knew how she was rather particular with how she liked things. He knew the two of you had seemed complimentary of each other during those short moments at Oliver’s.

However, after the package from his father he would not expected this. It was not something, he particularly wanted to worry about. It was enough that he was keeping an ear open for the possible arrival of the French solider who was looking for revenge. He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he made his way back to you.

“Sir Julien, sir Julien.”

He resisted the urge to ignore the barmaid, calling to him. This was not the time to close himself off from all the new people he was meeting. He swallowed, stopping and turned towards her.

“Yes?”

She was breathless and red faced as she caught up with him. Her hands fluttered around her like birds as she found her breath.

“I’m sorry.” She muttered swallowing some breathes.

“It is ok. There was something you wanted?” The urge to get back to you grew.

“A man, like you. Sounding like you has been staying with me.”

A chill came over him, he tried not to shiver. “Like me?”

A broad, lopsided smile that only she could muster spread across her fleshy face as the flush of running over to him finally faded.

“Yes, sounds like you and also likes to play card games. You should come one night. I told him, you did too.”

He blinked. “You did.”

With the excited nod of her head, the bun that held her hair in place loosened some.

“I did. You two would get along. Both very charming.”

He had to get away and now, he needed air desperately.

“I will consider it.

“You will?”

“Yes! But now I must be off. Fare thee well.”

He heard her call the same and he nodded and made it around the corner just out of eye sight and slumped against a stone wall. He felt like what little bile was in his stomach could leave at any moment. He took several breaths to calm his racing heart and churning stomach.

@henry-cavs-tudor @corrodedcoffn @dealswiththedevilsblog @randomstory56 @pl1nfa1 @phantomxoxo @ladybug0095 @the-iridescent-phoenix @maryan028 @kindablackenedsuperhero @amethyst-serenade @moondev1l @samunson83 @julieteagk @little-wormwood @wafflepixie @shadyhamiltonfanatic @gretavankleep37 @peacefroggg23 @capailluiscedove

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn fanfic #joseph quinn fanfiction #bbc!enjolras #bbc! enjolras x fem!reader #enjolras x reader #enjolras x y/n #enjolras x you #bbc! les mis #les mis #bbc les miserables #les miserable fanfiction #les miserables imagine #joe quinn fanfic #joe quinn fanfiction #a time to love and to fight #part 32

22 notes · View notes

rileysghostt · 2 years ago

Note

I of course need a price one-shot from you🥺 I’m thinking meeting him in a bar, and then… 😈

SASHA YESSSSS OF COURSE 🥲

and i’m sorry this is late ilysm ❤️

Captain John Price x F!Reader

smutsmutsmutsmut

Minors DNI!!!!!!

You were sitting alone at the bar at the local pub, a place you frequented from time to time, but you wouldn’t say you’re a regular by any means. You just liked a glass of good whiskey and this made more sense than buying a bottle and drinking alone in your apartment. The pub was dimly lit, a few people sat at the bar, having their own conversations. However, you were sitting between two empty bar stools. You didn’t really mind, just here for the whiskey. You needed this drink, you had an awful week. Everything at work, everything at home, with family, friends etc. went all to shit this week. You sighed to yourself as you took a sip, the two ice cubes clanked around in the glass as you sat it back down on the coaster. Watching them swirl around the burgundy liquid, you flicked your eyes toward the door. You watched as it opened, a man with a black beanie stepped inside.

The rest of his clothing was dark, but with how dim the atmosphere was in the bar. that’s all you could really tell. He was definitely handsome, facial hair traced up his jaw along with a thick mustache. You love gruff facial hair on tall, burly men. This was no exception. Before he caught you gawking at him, you looked away toward the back of the bar. You caught your reflection in the mirror behind the shelves of liquor bottles. You definitely weren’t dressed up by any means, but at least your hair was done, and you decided to line your eyes with liquid liner and mascara before you came in. You’ve been in worse condition, not that you really expected this man to come talk you up or anything.

“Wishful thinking…”

You picked up your glass and brought it toward your lips, finishing it off. You raised your glass toward the bartender who took the hint with a nod to you, grabbing another short glass to begin making your whiskey on ice. Running your fingers through your hair, you waited patiently for your drink. You decided to take a peak toward the handsome stranger once more, seeing where he could have ended up. To your surprise, you catch his eyes looking right at you. He was still standing by the door as he looked at you. The bartender set the glass new glass front of you making you jump slightly. You chuckled, a little embarrassed, with a thank you.

“This seat taken?”

You turn toward the stranger, his accent was thick and his voice low. You have him a small smile and shook your head no.

“All yours.”

He smiled back at you, pulling the stool back to take a seat next to you. He ordered a bourbon on the rocks from the bartender, then turned back toward to you.

“What’s in the glass?” He nodded toward your cup. You look down at it and pick it up, clinking the ice cubes around again.

“Jameson on the rocks. Real fancy stuff.”

You took a sip, eyes on his as he watched your lips touch the glass.

“What’s your name?”

You set the glass down gently, finger tracing the rim as you spoke to him.

“John, yours?”

His eyes glanced down watching your fingers trace the rim of the small scotch glass. He was taking you in, looking at your features. The way your lips curled around the glass, the way your leg was crossed over the other as you sat at the bar alone. He couldn’t imagine why a woman like you was sitting in a pub alone, drinking whiskey of all things. He couldn’t deny, it was very endearing.

“Y/N, you’re not from around here are you?”

You were also analyzing him, even though he was wearing rather dark clothing and a heavy coat, you could see how built he was underneath. You could only imagine the muscles of his board shoulders, to his defined back. Even his thighs seemed thick with muscle. His stature was tall, taller than you. ‘He’s just so attractive,’ you thought to yourself.

“Nah, how could you tell?” His accent rolled off his tongue, his voice was rich like mahogany. His chuckle tumbled in his chest.

“Hmm, I wonder. Couldn’t be your sexy accent or anything.” You tested the waters, the alcohol giving you the nerve to be a little flirtatious. What’s the harm anyway, might as well end your shit week on a high note.

“Sexy? Now I wouldn’t say that. You’re the one with the sexy accent. Can’t imagine why you’re sat here by yourself, you’re much too pretty for that.” The bartender set his glass in front of him, he took a sip after paying for the drink, refusing to start a tab.

“If you must know, Ive been sitting right here all night waiting for you.” You laughed taking another sip, you were really feeling the alcohol now. The room began to move a bit, and your body felt light.

“Now you’re just bein’ cheeky.” He laughed, taking a large swig of his drink, almost finishing it off. He had to play catch up to get where you were on the sober to drunk scale.

As he ordered both of you another drink, the two of you talked a bit more. About where you’re both from, what brought you into the pub tonight. You vaguely told him about you terrible, awful, no good week and he sympathized, he was there for roughly the same thing. Needed to take the edge off.

After a couple hours flew by, the pub was beginning to empty and the bartender announced last call.

“Listen, I have a hotel around the block. Wanna come back up with me? I have a half bottle of scotch we can polish off?” John was slurring just a little now, definitely feeling his buzz. Every time he spoke, you could see him staring at your lips. You couldn’t help but stare at his too, wondering what it’d be like to kiss them,

“Sure, scotch sounds great.”

You weren’t going for the scotch, but it wasn’t a bad addition to what you’d hoped to be getting into.

John pulled out more cash, paying off your tab for you. He ignored every objection you spit at him, that you could pay your own tab. You had to admit, though. You weren’t really complaining. John grasped your hand in his, lacing your fingers together as he helped you off the stool and out the door of the pub. The alcohol kept you warm as the two of you stepped into the cold, crisp night air. You were both giggling at each other, walking like brand new baby giraffes. This was the most fun you’d had in a while, you needed this.

John led you up to his hotel room, lazily slapping the keycard on the lock of the door, unlocking it as you both gained entry. It was a quaint room, one queen bed in the middle with a desk and lamp, bathroom of course. You took a seat at the desk while John tore off his coat and beanie. You were right about his defined shoulders and back, you could see them now through his long sleeved shirt. He grabbed two coffee cups from the tiny coffee and tea brew station the hotel had set up for the room, as well as the scotch from the mini refrigerator. He poured two liberal cups, sliding one over to you and setting the open bottle on the desk beside you. He sat on the edge of the bed closest to you, taking a swig of his drink.

“You’re quite beautiful..” John mumbled, bringing the cup down the rest in his leg. His eyes never moved away from yours, you could see just how tipsy he was from his half lidded stare at you. You weren’t much better.

“So are you, John.” You smiled, keeping the conversation light.

“You wouldn’t mind if I kissed you, then?”

“Of course not..” You breathed, your eyes falling back down on his lips again. John stood, taking a step towards you. He grabbed your hands, pulling you up to your feet. His hands left yours immediately, now taking your face in his palms. He slowly pulled you to him, his lips bushes against yours, his warm breath fanned over your lips before he placed a light kiss onto them. He moved his lips against yours, parting them as he opened his slightly. He breached your mouth with his wet tongue, lightly licking against yours. He tasted of scotch mostly, his tongue soft. You breath a light moan as the two of you continued, your hands running up his chest to wrap your arms around his neck. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you in closer. Your bodies now flush with each other, your breasts pressed into his chest. This kiss quickly became a little sloppy as both your hands explored each others bodies. For you, you hand ran back down his chest. Feeling the hardened muscle down to his stomach, resting your hands on the front of his belt buckle.

His hands ran straight down to your ass, squeezing two handfuls of each cheek. He loved how soft your ass was, he couldn’t help but grope each cheek as he groaned into your mouth.

“This okay?”

You nodded, not quite able to get any words out. That familiar tingle spreads through your pussy, your clit beginning to throb for him looking at how pink and plump his lips were now. He made quick work of your shirt and bra, throwing the garments to the floor as you worked on his belt. After unclasping you, you quickly pulled the belt through the loops and tossed it aside, you fingers now making quick work of the button and zipper.

Before he could tug your panties off, he pulls you back into a kiss. Your bare breasts pressed into his chest once again, nipples bushing against his soft skin. John’s hands trailed down past your ass to the back of your thighs, gripping them and hoisting you up. Getting the hint, you jump and wrap your legs around his waist. He walks a few steps, pressing your back against the wall. He pulls away, looking down at you with a smirk.

“ ‘that pussy wet for me?”

You smirked back, your hands on either side of his neck. You could feel sweat beginning to bead below his hair line.

“Why don’t you see for yourself?”

Your voice was almost a whisper, so sultry as your breath tickled John’s ear. You were indeed so wet for him, your panties were soaked through already. The thought of him thrusting into you like this sent chills down your spine.

John took his one hand, snaking it in between the two of you. His hand cupped your mound over your panties, feeling the wet spot you’ve created.

“Mmm, that’s a good girl.. So wet for me already..”

His voice rumbled and vibrated through your body as he spoke in a low tone, his fingers playing with the cloth of your panties as he moved the fabric to the side. His middle and ring fingers slipped between your folds, your sex dripping down to his knuckles. He groaned feeling just how bad you wanted him. His fingers then dipped into your tight hole, curling his fingers as he slowly penetrated your pussy. You let out a small whimper, the stretch around his thick fingers felt so good. They curled and pressed right into that sweet spot, earning another sweet moan from your lips.

John watched your face as he pleasured you, beckoning with his two fingers inside you. Pressing into your g spot every time, he picked up the pace. Your moans becoming louder and more frequent. He pressed his palm into your clit, offering friction from his calloused skin. It didn’t take long for you to unravel for him, your hips bucking into his hand.

“That’s right, gorgeous. Cum for me..”

Price slurred into your ear, his encouragement sending you over the edge. Your pussy gripped his fingers, pulsating as you rode out your high, the searing build up in your lower abdomen being released. Making you moan into his neck.

“So perfect.. You’re ready for my cock, lovely?”

You still heard static as you came down from your high, his voice barely breaking through. You tilt your head back, resting it against the wall as you looked back at him.

“I’m ready.. I need you inside me..” You confess as you start to catch your breath. He nods, his hand pulling his cock out from behind the confines of his tight boxer-briefs.

Feeling the head of his cock lined up with your entrance made you throb, letting out a small sigh.

“Please.. John I want you so bad..”

You were slurring your words, the alcohol still having its hold on you. Price simply nodded as he slowly push his thick cock between your folds and into your wet entrance. You moaned and arched your back of the wall as you stretched around him, pushing his cock all the way into you. Filling you to the brim. He pulled out slowly, then back in. Setting a slow and steady pace. His cock slicked every time he pulled out, then pushed back into you. Your wetness dropped down his balls, there was no doubt how bad you wanted this. Wanted him.

John started to pick up the pace, his one hand gripping your ass to hold you up against the wall, the other now on your neck, his thumb tracing your bottom lip as he kept up his assault on your tight pussy.

“That’s it baby.. Take my fucking cock.. Make me cum inside that pretty pussy..”

John huffed as he starred into your eyes, wanting to see every expression you had to give as he fucked the every living shit out of you. Your eyes rolled back as Price thrusted up into your g spot all over again. It was still so sensitive from earlier, it made you moan and grip the hair at the nape of his neck. The over stimulation almost being too much. His thrusts turned sloppy, and he was panting heavy. He was definitely close.

“Cum John.. cum inside me please. I need it.. I need you.”

That’s all the encouragement he needed as kissed you hard, groaning to your hot mouth. He came hard, hot ropes spilled into your cunt as you tightened around him. Squeezing every drop from him.

He pressed his forehead to yours, both of you sweating and panting. You curl a small smile to your lips. He did the same, chuckling a little.

“You staying, yeah? Really want to get to know you..”

Price was breathless as he spoke, barely holding you onto the wall. His grip lessened as your shaky legs anted themselves on the floor. He hold onto you so you don’t fall, leading you to the wedge of the bed and sitting you down. He looks down at you again, taking in every detail of your irises. He loved getting lost in your eyes.

“I’d like that..”

#call of duty #john price x reader #john price #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare #mw2 #call of duty fanfic #fan fiction #request #writerscorner #one shot #drabble

104 notes · View notes

strawberry-selfships · 6 days ago

Text

IM THE DAILY BUGLE’S FAVORITEST LITTLE GUY!!!!!! DOMINO D DAWSON IS SOOO REAL

& I ACTUALLY MET SPIDERMAN /SRS

I told spiderman “I have a daily bugle bracelet I made, and one my friend made” and he said “and you’ve got the shirt! J. Jonah Jameson would be so proud of you.”

SO!!!!!!!! AAAAAA!!!!!!!! CANON!!!!!!!!!! EEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!

MY BIRTHDAY IS TOMORROW BUT THIS IS THE BEST DAY I COULDVE ASKED FOR >_<❤️❤️❤️

#abt j jonah #domino d dawson #loveposting

6 notes · View notes

ashintheairlikesnow · 1 year ago

Note

Wow, my favorite character of yours...

Antoni has my brand of pushing his own problems away to take care of others, and convincing everyone including himself that he's fine really, he's doing so well. I love him in a way I can't really put words to.

Kauri was my first of your characters, I loved watching him grow, I can barely reconcile the Kauri we have now to that boy we first met living with Owen and that was beautiful to see.

Chris... Boy, Chris can break my heart and give me hope in equal amounts. I love especially what Chris did for so many real people, I lost count of how many asks you got of people who figured out their own neurodivergency and got what they needed to thrive because of Chris. He's not only and incredibly well-written and well loved character, he has helped so many people! And I love him!

Danny consumed my life for weeks (months?) once as I first read his story, and then he never left my mind again. I love seeing someone who has gone through more horror than any human should ever have to bear, time and time again, still have the will to live and find happiness despite everything.

Jameson is not someone I expected to like. It is a testament to your abilities the way he now owns my heart because he was not my type of character at all, and yet, all I wish for him now is a good life and you did that.

I could keep typing for the whole afternoon... Nine and Eli, Kima, that one guy you wrote about a single time two years ago who sounded fascinating, that lady who's a lesbian in times past about whom you never wrote here, Peter (my child), Dex, Connor, Jake, Nat, any therapist you write....

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

"I didn't think I would like the OC, but his characterization and journey won me over" is some high fuckin' praise, my day is made 100%.

Also, Danny and Chris are two of my faves. Redheaded freckle-covered blorbos of my heart.

#fave oc asks #chris asks #kauri asks #antoni asks #anon asks for danny

10 notes · View notes

fuckyeahdindjarin · 1 year ago

Text

I love how you're always yelling at Teak in the reblogs, and that insolent man child DESERVES it 😂 omg you rescued a doggo! Milo is a super cute name too, I hope he's settling into his new home well and hey, his middle name can always be Jameson ;)

Teak is PEAK shit stirrer in this chapter I love him for it!! Seriously he has no chill, but he has a real soft spot for Darlin', and he knows just how happy she makes Jack, so he's all in too 🥹

I adore Champ, and I hear him so clearly in my head too! So yes, it's the social media 😂 BAHAHHAA yes Darlin' wears *the* helmet I knew you'd be appalled!!!

I'm going to miss your commentary so much Peaches! Palomino wouldn't have been the same without you, especially your 💀💀💀💀 at Tea, ilysm! ❤️❤️❤️

VIII ║ Silver Pony

Jack Daniels x f!reader

{ Part 7: Fleabitten | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E

Summary: And just like that, your week at the Statesman Ranch comes to an end, leaving you grappling with the prospect of saying goodbye to Jack.

Warnings: Mentions of food and cooking, angst, feelings, grief, flirting, insecurities, very light soft!dom overtones, sexual innuendoes, risky unprotected sex (wrap it up, kids!), dirty talk, language, no use of Y/N

Word count: 7.5k

Notes: Here we are, the penultimate chapter of Palomino. I had the last scene in mind since the very beginning of the series, actually putting it into words has been so emotional. Thank you as always for your patience and your love for this series, I'm eternally grateful that you're still with me as we wrap up this beautiful journey cowboy Jack and his Darlin' started almost a year ago ❤️

P.S. Please excuse typos and any mistakes as I had very little time to edit with the husband ill this weekend.

Coaxing Scotch to a halt at the end of the track - the last lookout point before the trail slopes downhill and homeward - you let the leather reins slip long and loose as he stretches his neck and shakes out his mane with a low nicker.

A hundred feet drop below, between the palomino’s ears turned forward in anticipation, is the Statesman Ranch in all its glory, nestled in the fertile valley of green pasture, with its winding creek and red roofs. You can see tiny people milling about, the stables busy in the middle of the afternoon, and horses grazing in the fields bracketed by white picket fences.

Out of the corner of your eye, Whiskey comes to a stop next to you, close enough that your knee bumps into Jack’s.

You keep your gaze on the ranch below as you ask half-jokingly, ‘Is it too late to turn back now?’

He chuckles, and you twist towards him, your own lips curling. ‘I believe we had this exact same conversation the first day, darlin’.’

It’s not too late to back out, you know.

Oh no, you’re not getting rid of me now, cowboy.

You don’t even realise you’ve fallen quiet until his calloused hand slides over yours, fingers tangling together. Jack brushes a sweet kiss to the heart of your palm that goes right to the one in your ribcage.

He cocks his head to one side in a gentle question. ‘Shall we rip off the bandaid, darlin’?’

Knowing there’s no other way around it, you squeeze his hand. ‘Let’s go, cowboy.’

Jameson is the first to spot the five of you passing through the backgates. The sight of him zooming up the slope with his ears pinned back in excitement has you laughing, the horses nickering hello as his barks echo in the valley.

It makes no sense really - you barely know this place after all - but something inexplicably comforting and familiar tugs at your insides as you ride through the ranch. Stable hands call out to Jack in friendly greeting and to you with polite ma’ams, between bales of hay being loaded, saddles and tack polished, and the clang of steel on iron from the farrier’s workstation out back. All the while, Jameson trots faithfully by your side, as if he’s known you all his life.

‘You sure know how to make a girl feel special,’ you coo at him and he barks back, tail wagging.

Jack winks at you and says cryptically, ‘Well, you’re about to feel a lot more special, darlin’.’

Sure enough, when the horses clop into the main stable yard, your jaw drops.

‘Look what the cat dragged in!’ bellows Champ with a huge grin on his face, standing in front of the stable doors with hands on his hips, larger than life than ever.

You chortle at the huge Welcome Back! banner stretched over the barn door, complete with over-the-top cowboy themed helium balloons, bumping into each other in the afternoon breeze. You catch Jack rolling his eyes fondly at the scene.

Champ gives Scotch an affectionate ruffle on the mane as he comes to a halt by the wooden post. ‘So - how was it, m’dear? Was it everythin’ I promised it would be?’

‘Everything and more,’ you answer in the affirmative as you dismount, letting him pull you in for an enthusiastic hug.

‘That’s what I like to hear!’ he beams and pats the palomino soundly on the rump. ‘And Scotch? Was he a good boy?’

‘The bestest boy,’ you gush, throwing your hands around the horse’s neck in a hug. ‘He deserves all the carrots and apples in the world.’

Swinging his leg over the back of Whiskey’s saddle and landing gracefully on booted feet on the opposite side of the post, Jack quips, ‘But you’ve already fed him all the carrots and apples in the world.’

Champ chortles. ‘And what about our cowboy? Was he on his best behaviour?’

Jack points a self-righteous finger at his boss. ‘I’ll have you know our guest rated the pack trip a perfect ten out of ten, so I’ll be expectin’ an immediate raise. Ain’t that right, darlin’?’

A loud scoff coming from the stables turns your head, and you smile when Tequila emerges, wasting no time taking his aim at Jack. ‘Hold your horses, Daniels. Pretty sure the food poisonin’ knocks a few points off!’

Crossing the yard with his usual swagger, he sidles up to the other side of Scotch and tips his hat at you, leaning his elbows on the saddle. ‘Welcome back, sweetheart. Good to see you up and runnin’.’

You bite your lip at the mischievous wink he tosses your way.

Champs harrumps indignantly. ‘You have some nerve askin’ for a raise, son! Poppy was madder than a wet hen she heard about that. As you well know, she expects a full report at dinner tonight.’

Jack huffs in jest. ‘I’m puttin’ in a call to my attorney as we speak.’

The banter is spirited and relentless as the cowboys make quick work of untacking and unloading the horses, Champ insisting you shouldn’t lift a finger and talking for more than the three of you.

When the stable hands take away the last of the bags with your dirty laundry to be laundered, Jack takes a hold of both Whiskey and Bourbon. Clearing his throat, he seems to hesitate for a second, a tick in his jaw, but he eventually nods at you and says, ‘Well. I best be bringin’ the boys in now. Catch you later, darlin’.’

The bottom of your stomach gives out at the catch you later, darlin’, knocking the breath clean out of you, unprepared for the dread that courses through your veins like lead at the sudden prospect of being apart. Your fingers twitch with urgency, wanting to reach out, grab him by the front of his shirt, and cling to him -

Get a grip, woman.

You physically shake yourself out of it, and instead, try to bide your time. ‘Or, you know, if can I help with anything at all -’

Jack clearly catches on to your reluctance, but Champ is insistent. ‘Absolutely not! Now, it’s just gettin’ to four o’clock, so there’s plenty of time to go back to your room, clean up and join us for sunset drinks in a couple of hours. How does that sound, ma’am?’

Jack’s mouth stretches into a reassuring smile that you wish were imprinted into the skin of your forehead instead. With a promise in his eyes that it’ll only be a couple of hours, he leads the chestnut and pinto into the stables.

You don’t even try to hide the slump in your shoulders and your wistful, lingering gaze on the cowboy’s retreating back, nearly jumping out of your skin when Tequila gives you an almost brotherly pat on the shoulder over Scotch’s back. ‘I gotcha, girl.’

Speaking up, he calls out, ‘Hey Champ, Ginger was just tellin’ me that you got an urgent message from Harry, so you better give him a call back - you know how he gets when you don’t.’

The older man flinches dramatically at the mention of his accountant, flinging his hands up in frustration. ‘Damn distillery is more trouble than it’s worth! I better go - you remember your way back to your cabin, young lady?’

Before you can get a word out, Tequila cuts in, ‘Jack can show her the way if she doesn’t, I’m sure.’

The sly reference goes straight over Champ’s head as he bustles off, but not without a polite tip of his hat. Once he’s out of sight, you smile at the cowboy. ‘I appreciate that, Teak.’

He winks at you and spins on his heels to take Scotch to the washing bay. ‘Consider it part of our excellent service at the Statesman Ranch, sweetheart!’

You find Jack hatless in Bourbon’s box, his eyebrows reaching for his hairline, slick with sweat, when you slip in and shut the door quietly behind you.

‘Whatcha doin’, darlin’?’ he asks with a lopsided smile.

Even though you didn’t run into anyone on your way in, you glance around to make sure you’re alone before grabbing him by the open neck of his shirt and tugging him into you. One palm on his cheek, rough with the stubble starting to peek through since his last shave at the Halfway House, you press your lips to his, blood thrumming with the thrill of sneaking around.

You catch the hitch of his breath with a wet suck on his bottom lip and he groans - too loudly in the mid-afternoon quiet. Cheeky hands wander south and grab you shamelessly by the ass, his tongue questing deep into your mouth, and you can feel him hardening against your stomach, drawing a whimper from you.

Pulling back reluctantly, his nose still on yours, he growls. ‘Such brazen behaviour.’

Your tongue darts out and swipes the underside of your upper lip, drunk on the taste of him, and his dark gaze follows. ‘I think you like it, cowboy.’

‘Too fuckin’ much,’ he admits with a pained moan and a chaste kiss to your temple, nose in your hair, as if to calm himself down. ‘You should go clean up, I need to finish up here and you’re distractin’ me.’

You pout, laying your cards on the table. ‘But I miss you.’

His gaze warms at your admission, and he stoops to kiss you again. ‘I know, but it’s only for a little while, okay? I’ll come ‘round your room to pick you up at six.’

‘Fine,’ you reply begrudgingly. ‘Be quick, ok?’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ he teases and swats you on the bottom playfully as he herds you towards the door. ‘I won’t be long, promise.’

Taking two steps down the corridor, you look back one last time at Jack, who’s still watching you from the stall, leaning on the top of the door. When he blows you a lingering kiss, the thought strikes you unbidden -

If it’s this hard leaving him for a couple of hours.

Feeling the tell-tale sting in your nose and the prickle of tears at your eyes, you push the thought out of your mind -

You put one foot in front of the other, and walk away.

You didn’t realise how much you missed civilisation until you surprise yourself with the longest sigh under the rain shower. Head bowed under the steady stream, you take your time, lathering yourself until you’re cocooned in olive scented bubbles before rinsing, relishing the firm water pressure soothing the knots and soreness lurking under your skin.

But there’s a deeper ache, one that can’t be reached from the surface.

You have literally not been apart from Jack for the last four days. You’ve been showering together since the Halfway House, for crying out loud. It hasn’t taken you more than the stretch of an arm to catch his hand, or the turn of your cheek to find his lips.

A laugh bubbles in your throat as you wrap yourself in a fluffy towel. The word codependent springs to mind.

Standing in the middle of the room in just your underwear, you sort through the clean clothes that are folded neatly on the bed. Pulling on the prettiest top you brought and the same pair of jeans you wore on your birthday, you dig out your makeup bag and settle in front of the vanity, putting on a Spotify playlist and humming along as you get ready for dinner.

One second you’re blending in your foundation, then the next - liner in your grasp and poised over the corner of your eye - panic rudely sets in.

What if -

What if the chemistry between the two of you was conditional on forced proximity?

What if Jack was only attracted to you because there was literally no other woman for miles and miles?

What if -

You startle at the knock on the door.

It’s deja vu when you pad across the oakwood floors on bare feet, your heart threatening to thunder out of your chest when you twist the knob clockwise.

Jack is leaning on the doorframe, freshly showered himself, damp locks curling into his forehead. The yellow flannel he’s wearing is new to you, but not the way the sleeves are pushed up to his elbows, over his sunkissed forearms.

For one moment of madness, you want to sink your teeth into the thick, sinewy -

‘What is it, darlin’?’ he asks, amused by your scrutiny.

You shrug, fingers fidgeting with a touch of shyness. ‘Just thinking about the last time you were on this doorstep.’

‘When you were swept away by my good looks and charm?’ he quips, arching an eyebrow.

You let him have this one, teasing, ‘Something like that, cowboy.’

Straightening up to his full height, he pulls you in by the waist so that you’re almost standing on the worn leather tips of his boots, the span of his palms warm on the small of your back. He doesn’t even bother checking over his shoulder before brushing a tender kiss on your lips, and it takes you right back to that first time in the field of wildflowers at dawn.

And you just know, in your heart of hearts - there is no what if.

In the middle of nowhere, up in the mountains, the sunset hour demands nothing short of worship. Miles and miles of grassland, trees and summer blooms become altars dipped in bronze at which to prostrate oneself as the sun sinks, rejoicing at the rapture of the end of day.

Whilst not as transcendent as what you experienced on the trail, the last sunset over the ranch is giving as good as it gets. The sun gilds the fields in gold on its descent as the stable hands bring in the last of the horses for the night while the swallows fly home above. The river that winds through the ranch is ablaze with the refracting light, and across the yard, you can hear the impatient whinnying of those waiting for their supper.

Jack and Tequila are setting up the barbeque and firepit, the orange glow of the twin flames taking the place of the fading daylight. The familiar scent of burning wood grounds you - you’re feeling a bit out of practice being the centre of attention after being alone with Jack for the past week.

Ice cold lemonade in one hand and buffalo jerky in the other, you smile when Ginger approaches with a hug. ‘I’m sure you’ve had to answer this question about fifty times today, but how was it?’

‘You want the short answer or long answer?’

‘I want a dissertation if you have it in you!’

You sneak glances at Jack over Ginger’s shoulder while you chat, and he watches you back from afar as he bustles in and out of the kitchen, always trailing two steps behind Poppy. You catch snippets of their conversation as they go back and forth, and you pick up enough to know that she is grilling him on the ‘food poisoning’ incident. He shoots you puppy eyes every time he passes by, which makes you grin.

You may or may not have been a bit distracted by the cowboy when Ginger asks, ‘So, did you catch Jack washing in the river in the end?’

A violent cough racks your entire body as you choke mid-swallow, and she chuckles, giving you a comforting pat on the back. ‘It’s ok, girlfriend - I don’t have to know!’

You knock back more lemonade and choose to play coy. If only she knew.

Champ is in his element, swapping out your drink for a whiskey soda as the dusk deepens and making sure the snacks platter is topped up with locally made boar and elk salami. Despite only having half an ear in the conversation while he keeps an eye on the dinner prep, he’s somehow still fully invested, and is particularly interested in the photos and videos you’ve been taking on Jack’s DSLR.

‘And that’s what you do for a livin’, young lady?’ he asks, putting on his reading glasses so he can study the photos downloaded onto your phone.

‘Adjacent. I’m in marketing, I do quite a lot of business-to-consumer social media campaigns,’ you explain, switching to Instagram to show him your employer’s profile.

Champ turns to Ginger. ‘Do we have the social media?’

She exchanges a fond smile with you. ‘No we don’t, boss, but we do have a website. I think it was last updated in 2012.’

Champ holds his chin between his thumb and index finger thoughtfully. ‘What do you think, m’dear? Should we get the social media?’

‘It depends,’ you answer truthfully. ‘If you want to boost occupancy, social media will definitely help connect new guests, and also encourage repeat visits. But if you asked me, I think the real potential is on the distillery side of the business.’

Champ perks up under his cowboy hat. ‘I’m listenin’.’

You tap the bottle of Statesman whiskey that’s sitting on the barrel table. ‘Jack told me that you only handle wholesale orders right now, which is perfectly fine. But if you want to go direct to consumers one day, social media is the way to go. I’ve worked with vineyards and gin distilleries, so I’ve seen how effective these campaigns can be.’

Humming pensively, Champ sips at his whiskey, neat, a faraway look in his eyes as he mulls over your words. ‘Well, that’s somethin’ to think about, I’d say.’

There’s no other way to end the trip than with a western cookout. The barbeque station is packed with trays of beautifully cut and aged meat from neighbouring ranches, sausages and brats, while the smoked brisket and ribs that have been cooking all day are brought out from the smoker in the kitchen.

On the side, a picnic table draped with a chequered table cloth is crammed with baked beans (smoked in-house), corn on the cob, pasta salad and soda bread; and on the greens front, there’s homemade coleslaw, potato salad and greens freshly picked from the vegetable patch.

It’s a feast of epic proportions, and it doesn’t surprise you at all that Poppy is pulling out all the stops.

Jack mans the barbeque under her supervision, wielding the tongs with showmanship, and your heart purrs at the familiar sight of him cooking by firelight as darkness well and truly sets in. You feel slightly adrift not being by his side, but Champ is keeping you entertained and well fed, piling seconds upon thirds on your loaded plate despite your protests.

By the time Teak takes over at the barbeque and Jack makes his way towards the communal table where you’re all standing, you’re sipping slowly on your third whiskey and soda. You smile at him over the brim of your tumbler which he returns, and your body leans unconsciously towards him, before remembering where you are. He tucks his right hand into his back pocket, and you want to think that it’s because if he doesn’t, he would reach out for you.

Being denied his touch when he’s right there has you shifting your feet restlessly. Your fingers itch for him, there’s an insistent prickle under your skin that you know he alone can placate.

You venture a peek at Jack, wondering if he’s faring any better than you are. Feeling your eyes on him, he turns to you, his gaze dropping to your mouth none too subtly, the muscle in his neck tensing. Caught in the moment, all you want to do is to run your tongue down the hollow of his throat and taste the smoke on his skin -

You look away in case you do anything rash.

You’re barely holding it together when the conversation moves on to your birthday at the Halfway House.

‘And how was the dinner?’ asks Poppy animatedly. ‘Did you like the cake?’

Despite yourself, you beam, ‘Like it? I loved it, thank you so much! I was so spoiled.’

‘Did Jack show you a good time?’

‘Oh I should say so,’ cuts in Tequila despite being six feet away at the barbeque. At Jack’s glare, he quickly adds, ‘He decked out the place real nice, y’know, with balloons and shit.’

With a shake of your head, you chuckle, ‘And he dressed the horses up in birthday hats and tinsel!’

With the barbeque dying down to a low, simmering flame, Poppy slides in a couple of peach cobblers in pie dishes directly onto the embers to warm up. Leaving behind gravy-stained plates stacked up high on the barrel table, the group drifts over to the low-set deck chairs sitting in a tidy circle around the firepit.

Emptying the last of the whiskey into his glass, Champ calls out, ‘Jack, m’boy, how ‘bout you run to the cellar and grab us another bottle of the fifteen years?’

‘Sure, boss,’ he replies, hanging back and catching your attention. ‘You wanna come look at the cellar, darlin’? It’s quite a sight.’

Champ is delighted. ‘What an inspired idea! Take your time, young lady, it’s not quite the distillery cellar, but we’ll save that for next time.’

Teak gives you a two-fingered salute and a knowing wink as Jack leads the way. ‘Enjoy the tour, sweetheart!’

Jack barely waits until you’ve turned the corner behind one of the barns before backing you up against the wall. You taste whiskey and woodsmoke on his tongue as he pins you in place with his broad frame, and you haul him closer, wanting to feel every inch of him.

‘I missed you, darlin’,’ he whispers against your lips.

‘I was standing right next to you, cowboy.’

‘I know,’ he whines. ‘Took everythin’ to keep my hands to myself.’

Your cheeks warm at his words, and you reach up to brush an errant curl back from his eyes. ‘Me too.’

Jack grabs your hand and takes you on what must be a shortcut to the kitchen, since you don’t recognise the route. Practically dragging you down a flight of steps at the back, he lets go of you only to pull open a heavy oak door. Your eyes widen when the orange lights flicker on, stepping into the cellar lined with hundreds, if not thousands of bottles, floor-to-ceiling shelves nestled into stone arches carved into the walls.

You wander the perimeter of the room, carefully pulling out dusty bottles high and low to inspect the years printed on the labels, but Jack is having none of it. Face nuzzled into the nook of your shoulder, he grinds his half-hard cock into you impatiently, calloused palms sliding under your shirt and squeezing your tits through your bra.

You moan, the sound echoing under the low vaulted ceilings. ‘What are you doing, cowboy?’

‘Want you now,’ he rasps into the back of your neck, teeth catching the sensitive skin.

‘What’s gotten into you?’ you ask, a laugh caught in your throat as he ruts against the cleft of your ass needily, a shudder rippling through you when you feel just how much he wants you through the denim.

‘It’s the change in altitude,’ he rasps, dry humping you in earnest now, his fingers fumbling with the front of the zipper. ‘And you’re really fuckin’ sexy in these jeans.’

‘Such a sweet talker,’ you tease, reaching behind you to undo his pants. ‘We got to be quick.’

He yanks the front of your jeans down so hard the movement jolts you forwards, flipping the denim inside out and dragging it down to the middle of your thighs, your panties going with them. His question is hot in your ear. ‘Want me to use protection, darlin’?’

You don’t skip a beat with an emphatic, ‘No.’

‘Fuck,’ he growls at your one-worded answer. ‘Lettin’ me fuck you bare? I’m one lucky cowboy.’

Your pussy throbs at his words alone, and you gasp in surprise when Jack manhandles you to the middle of the room, where a row of aged barrels rest on their sides, elevated on a sturdy shelf to keep them off the floor. He bends you unceremoniously over one cask so that your front is pressed up against the curved wooden surface, then, kicking your legs apart and notching the head of his cock at the mouth of your cunt, he sinks into you in one determined thrust.

‘Jack!’ you cry out, voice hoarse, filled almost painfully full, suspended on the tips of your toes as he plants his feet and drives into you, pulling out to the tip before plunging all the way back in, so deep you feel him in your throat. His breath is harsh and hot on the shell of your ear, but you can’t hear him over your own cries.

‘That’s it, darlin’,’ he croons throatily, his jeans rubbing the back of your thighs raw as his grip on you bites into your sides, holding you in place as you writhe. ‘Such a good girl, lettin’ me bend you over like this, takin’ me so well.’

Nails skidding over the wooden grain of the barrel as you scrabble for something to hold onto, you mewl, ‘Yes, yes, yes, feels so fucking good, cowboy!’

The slap of skin on skin bounces obscenely off the walls, and between the buck of his hips and his groans, you hear the slick squelch of your pussy stretching for him.

It seems to spur him on, and he snaps harder into you, rasping, ‘Look at you naughty thin’, lettin’ me fuck you in the middle of the cellar when anyone can walk in.’

Only then does it hit you - the absurdity of having fucked your way across the open country on this packtrip, taking for granted the liberty of literally screaming to the high heavens, free from prying eyes and ears. Juxtaposed against the sudden and very real prospect of getting caught, your body instinctively reacts.

Jack feels you clench wetly around his cock, a choked chuckle halfway in his throat. ‘Fuck, you filthy girl, you like that, don’t you? Want someone to walk in on us when I’m balls deep inside this pretty pussy?’

Your back arches, and he slides in so deep you’re sure you’ll be feeling him for days after, even when you’re a thousand miles from here. ‘Yes, yes, yes sir -’

The next thing you know, he’s gripping your hair and pulling, making you watch him over your shoulder. His eyes are black, jaw hanging open and teeth bared, and he’s gone - he’s thrusting recklessly into you, and you have no idea how your spine hasn’t snapped from being bent so far backwards. Then one rope-worn palm comes down on your right ass cheek in a cracking slap, making you gag on a half-groan, slick trickling down your thighs at the sting.

Jack leans over you now, caging you between his arms, his soft kisses on your neck an antithesis to the uncompromising rhythm at which he’s pounding into you. He coaxes, ‘Gonna cum for me, darlin’?’

Two of his fingers nudge between your legs and you whine when they make landing on your swollen clit. You nod desperately, clawing at the smooth wooden barrel under you. ‘Yes Jack, please make me cum. Please.’

‘Don’t you worry, you will,’ he says matter-of-factly, smearing mouth and tongue down the side of your neck. ‘You can do it. Make a mess on my cock, c’mon, darlin’ -’

When you clamp down around him, it takes Jack everything - everyfuckin’thin’ - not to let go and pump into you, fill that tight little cunt as you wail his name, quaking and squirming in his grasp. Air doesn’t quite reach his lungs, and he’s biting so hard on the insides of his mouth that it swells instantly, wanting so badly to mark you, to possess you in the most primal way a man can -

With a strangled groan, he pulls out, but only just - he’s already cumming before he can even wrap a fist around his cock, spurting crudely all over the swollen lips of your pussy and the curve of your ass as he milks himself dry, shudder after shudder. His spend drips so prettily down the back of your thighs, stopping just short of staining your jeans, that he goes light-headed for a moment. He sways, and if not for you grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him down for a lazy kiss, he probably would’ve keeled over.

He looks down at the mess he made, crooning into your ear, ‘You’re so beautiful covered in my cum, darlin’.’

You squeak, startled, when he runs this thumb down your slit, still so slick and wet for him, and he has to fight the urge to fucking scoop up his cum shove it into you, filling you only to have it drool out of you when he holds the pretty lips open -

He feels your eyes on him, like you can tell what he’s thinking. He winces, shame rearing its head as he apologises, ‘I’m sorry, I got carried away. Was it - too much?’

Cupping his cheek in your palm, you pull him down for another kiss. ‘Never. I’ll take everything you’ve got, cowboy.’

Jack somehow has a handkerchief in his shirt pocket, which he brandishes with a flourish, prompting a giggle from you. ‘A gentleman if I’ve ever seen one.’

With a playful smirk, he declares, ‘Damn straight - my mama raised me right.’

Gently, Jack cleans you up, and you’re happy to let him do all the work, your body heavy and sated. When he’s done, he swivels you around and presses his lips to your temple. ‘Come back to my house tonight, darlin’?’

You tuck your nose into the crook of his neck and breathe in deeply. ‘I’d love to, cowboy.’

He’s carefully folding up the soiled handkerchief and tucking it into his back pocket when you hear footsteps on the stairs, and the two of you have barely pulled up your jeans when the door swings open.

There’s a dramatic pause as Teak takes in your dishevelled state and none too guilty faces. Looking distinctly unsurprised, he bursts into laughter nonetheless. ‘The cellar? Is nothin’ sacred to you heathens?’

The cookout winds down over bubbling hot peach cobbler and homemade vanilla ice cream that Teak collected from the freezer in the kitchen on the way back. It’s pushing ten o’clock when Champ calls it a night, and you all help with bringing the dirty dishes and leftovers inside.

Poppy and Ginger make quick work of putting all the food in tupperware and into the fridge. Jack and Teak load up the dishwasher as you finish off the last of your drink.

Champ dusts his hands, as if he’s the one who’s done all the tidying up, and asks, ‘Your flight tomorrow isn’t until afternoon is it?’

You nod, passing Jack your empty glass. ‘Yeah, I need to drop off my rental truck as well, so I think I’ll have to leave around eleven.’

He pats you on the back. ‘Alright then, we’ll see you tomorrow mornin’. Have a good night’s sleep, young lady.’

‘Say goodbye before you go,’ adds Ginger, giving you a peck on the cheek.

‘Dinner was incredible, Poppy, thank you,’ you smile as she pulls you into a warm hug.

The redhead winks at you. ‘My absolute pleasure. I’ll fix you a little takeaway lunch to go tomorrow for the journey home. No plane food allowed for our guests!’

The kitchen empties until it’s just you, Jack and Teak, with the latter grinning at you two like a lunatic. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he shrugs. ‘So you guys wanna hang, or -’

‘Get the fuck outta here, Teak!’ Jack growls.

The taller cowboy ambles over to you, joints loose with alcohol, and gives you what can only be described as a bear hug.

‘Just try keep it down, will ya? It’s real quiet in the valley at night and some of us have to work early tomorrow,’ he ribs with an insolent wink. ‘Guess we won’t see you lovebirds at breakfast?’

‘Not if you’re there,’ Jack retorts, to which Teak flashes a good-natured middle finger and saunters off into the night.

Jack draws you into his arms and you slump against him, relieved that you’re finally alone. ‘Shall we, darlin’?’

His fingers curl securely around the back of your hand, his thumb rubbing soothing circles at the base of yours as he closes the kitchen door behind you. It strikes you this is actually the first time you’re holding hands - there was no need for that when you were in the saddle, or camped in close proximity.

Your cheeks stretch with a smile so wide that the muscles ache. The mundanity of walking side by side, hand in hand, shouldn’t be this thrilling.

It’s quiet other than the grind of gravel under your boots and Jack’s heavier ones. The night air is sweet, the blanket of stars above you just as magical, but it’s not quite the same kind of stillness at the lower altitude. Perhaps it’s the way the sound travels with buildings and other people around, maybe the very physics of it is fundamentally different.

Turning into the parking lot, your attention is piqued by a handsome motorcycle parked all on its lonesome next to the main lodge.

Pride in his voice, Jack says, ‘Darlin’, meet the Silver Pony.’

You know nothing about motorcycles, but you can appreciate the sleek lines, the classy tan leather seat and the retro elegance about her as you circle it. Her silver paint job gleams in the lonely porch light. ‘She’s beautiful, cowboy.’

‘She’s an old girl but she got good bones. I restored her myself,’ he proclaims proudly, before admitting, ‘And well, Teak helped too.’

Opening a little cabinet attached to the side of the main lodge, Jack pulls out a helmet that has you laughing. It’s painted red white and blue, stars, stripes and the full monty, with the word WHISKEY painted across the front in bold formation.

He grins at you. ‘Found it in a yard sale. Too good to pass up.’

Lowering it over your head, he tightens the strap carefully under your chin. It’s a bit big, but it’ll do for a short ride. Blinking up at him, it brings you back to that first day in the stables, and you feel the same pull that you did when he fitted you with your hat.

Except this time, you can do something about it. Standing on your tiptoes to kiss him, you giggle when your helmet slips and knocks into his forehead with a clunk.

Putting on his own sensible black helmet, he plants his left foot by the side of the bike and swings his right leg over the leather seat.

You’re taken aback by the spike in your pulse at the sight - you’d think that having seen him on horseback all week would have prepared you for it. But there’s something about the way he leans over the top of the motorcycle, thighs wrapped around the metal body, forearms flexing as he grasps the handlebar.

Starting the ignition and knocking back the kickstand with the heel of his cowboy boot, Jack nods at you. ‘Hop on, darlin’.’

You do, and you don’t need to be told to hold on tight.

The Silver Pony purrs to a stop outside a modest cottage, about a ten-minute cruise from the ranch, down a short dirt track from the main road. It’s pitch black except for the headlights that illuminate an unexpectedly floral front garden. You hop off and take off your helmet before Jack kills the engine, plunging you into a very familiar darkness.

Switching on the light on his phone, he reaches for your hand and pulls you gently to his side, his solid warmth welcome even though it’s nowhere as chilly as it was up on the mountains. Flashing the light towards the front yard, he tells you, ‘Ginger has quite the green finger, this is all her work. It took some time, but the vegetable patch is just startin’ to come through this season.’

Keys jangling, Jack unlocks the front door and ushers you inside, flipping on the lights.

It’s a cosy space, not big by country standards, but more than spacious enough for one cowboy. It’s clearly a man’s house, with a distinct lack of decorative touches other than a vintage map of Wyoming hanging over a dining table and a crowded bookshelf by the door. Dark wood with orange knots line the floors and ceilings, the warm tones reminding you of nights around the campfire.

Walking through the tidy but lived-in space, you pass an open kitchen with a breakfast bar that backs into the living room. A rustic stone fireplace stands in the corner, bracketed by a cosy sectional with deep seats.

Jack watches you mill about, taking everything in. When you stop by the fireplace, he asks jokingly from across the room, ‘So, what’s the verdict?’

You tease, ‘Not gonna lie - I’m disappointed there aren’t more spurs and lassos on the walls.’

He chuckles and steps into the kitchen. ‘You want a nightcap?’

‘Just water thank you, I think I’ve had enough to drink.’

Filling up two glasses at the sink, he crosses the room to join you at the mantelpiece.

‘How long have you been living here?’ you ask, setting your glass on the shelf after taking a sip.

He takes a moment to reply. ‘I took a long break off work after my wife died, then moved in here straight after. Couldn’t stand bein’ in our house alone - couldn’t bear bein’ there at all.’ He pauses, and his lips quirk with a wry smile. ‘Champ and Teak packed everythin’ up for me and drove it all here.’

His honesty hits you squarely in the chest, the weight of the grief behind his words nearly knocking you back a step. You reach for him, closing the two-step distance and wrapping your arms tight around his waist.

Eyes closed, he lets you anchor him to the moment. Maybe he shouldn’t, but the confession slips right through his teeth. ‘I haven’t brought any women here. Ever.’

He holds his breath as he feels you hold yours.

You mumble into his chest, ‘You have to stop making it harder for me to leave, cowboy.’

Then don’t.

The two words are on the tip of his tongue, and for a second, he worries that he actually said them out loud. But he knows he can’t. It’s mad. It’s been a week. It’s not fair on you, not when you have a whole life back in the city, thousands of miles away, and his is right here in the shadow of the Bighorn Mountains.

So he says nothing.

Eventually, you pull back and tip your face up towards him. He doesn’t think he’s imagining the wetness lining the seams of your eyes.

‘Let’s go to bed, cowboy.’

He watches you from the doorway, where he leans idly against the frame, body relaxed from the whiskey sodas at dinner. The curtains are drawn and the light from the bedside lamp soft, casting orange shades on the walls and your skin as you shrug on the shirt he leaves out for you. The last button done, you snuggle comfortably under his sheets, and his heart lurches.

Not for the first time, the thought crosses his mind -

You look like you belong here.

‘Are you gonna stare all night, cowboy?’ you tease, sinking into the pillows.

He shrugs and closes the door behind him, shedding his clothes as he goes. ‘Can’t help it, darlin,’. You look good in my bed.’

‘It’s so comfy,’ you sigh happily, watching him strip down to his boxers.

‘It’s just the hard ground talkin’,’ he says, climbing in next to you. Bundling you into his arms and sliding one leg between yours, he kisses you, a deep exhale leaving him as he does. You smile so wide the corners of your eyes crease, and he watches as they land somewhere behind him.

His stomach drops when it dawns on him what catches your attention.

But it’s too late. You sit up, leaning over him and grabbing a hold of it with gentle hands.

You stare up at him. ‘Jack.’

He doesn’t even remember the last time he really looked at the photo. It’s there when he wakes up, when he goes to bed. It sits on the bedside table by the lamp, probably covered in dust.

Untouched.

His silence doesn’t deter you, but your tone is soft, and he understands that you’re giving him an out if he wants it. ‘What’s her name?’

His throat goes drier than sandpaper, and he’s suddenly speaking through a mouthful of cotton. It takes him two tries before he manages to enunciate. ‘Addison. Everyone called her Addie.’

‘Was this taken at your wedding?’

He nods, picking at a loose thread on the comforter.

‘Look at you all dashing in a suit, cowboy,’ you hum appreciatively, tracing a fingertip over the smart dark grey tweed jacket with navy accents. ‘Where did you get married?’

‘At her parents’ ranch.’

‘Under this magnolia tree?’

He nods again. ‘It was her favourite spot.’

‘She’s so beautiful,’ you say quietly.

His eyes dart to the photo in your grasp despite himself. Swallowing thickly, he says, ‘She’s buried there now, where she was always happiest.’

At that, you return the photo to its place on the bedside table, almost solemnly. This is usually the point when people stop asking questions, so when you snuggle into the crook of his shoulder, gazing at him expectantly, he frowns in confusion.

‘What is it, darlin’?’

‘Tell me about her.’

Jack is stumped, flustered at your request. He shifts, sitting up stiffly against the headboard. ‘Like what?’

You shrug. ‘I don’t know. Like - how did you meet?’

His answer is short, factual. ‘On the rodeo circuit. We both worked on the tour.’

You give him an encouraging nudge. ‘And? What was she like?’

‘She -’ he pauses and holds his breath, weighing his words. In the end, it’s the truth that he tells you. ‘She was the best person.’

He stutters to a stop again, but you’re still peering at him, your expression curious and open. He knows you won’t push him, he trusts that you wouldn’t. He could reach out and switch off the light right now, and he knows you’d leave it at that.

But a small part of him demurs. He doesn’t have the words to describe it, but something unsettling and hopeful at once stirs in his stomach, one that is stopping him from cutting short this somewhat unconventional pillow talk.

So he tests the words on his tongue, starting with something small. ‘She was a cat person. All the barn cats loved her, no matter where we went on the circuit.’

Watching the way your eyes smile at the detail, he feels a little lighter. He adds, ‘We literally had cats camping out in our truck, and I’m allergic, so I’d be sneezing and covered in hives on the long-distance drives between rodeos.’

You laugh, and his chest swells with the realisation that he doesn’t remember the last time any mention of his wife sparked anything but sad side glances and commiserating pats on the back - let alone joy.

Over the years, he had let go of her joy. Because it doesn’t hurt as much to mourn her this way.

And the guilt that he did this, took the easy way out, is almost too much for one soul-crushing moment - until you lay your head on his chest, unfurling one hand and pressing it into his side, literally holding him together, rib by rib.

He tells you about Addie. Things he’s been afraid to remember, but even more afraid that he had forgotten. Her likes, pet peeves, where she went to college, her favourite show, her irrational fear of butterflies, her favourite dress, the song that always got her up on her feet dancing wherever she was, whatever she was doing, when it came on the radio.

You listen, picking up on the way his voice falls back into that beautiful Southern cadence that you have come to know as he remembers his wife, nothing but love in his eyes as the guardedness fades with each memory he confides in you. You pepper the pauses with follow-up questions and playful quips where you’re draped across him, one arm folded underneath you and the other over his waist, but you feel yourself nodding off as the hour grows late.

He holds you to him, his palm spanning your lower back, until you go quiet.

Jack is tired, his own lids drooping with impending slumber, the sprint down memory lane taking more out of him than he expected. Brushing a kiss to the crown of your head, he rolls you off his front and onto your side, tucking you into the rumpled sheets. Spooning you from behind, he murmurs one last thing on the shell of your ear.

‘She would’ve loved you, darlin’.’

Notes: When I first started this series, I didn't have a backstory developed for Jack other than that his wife died eight and a half years before Darlin' comes on the scene. It's been such an organic and fulfilling journey developing his character and his history over the series, filling in the blanks as we and Darlin' got to know him better.

It's so important to me that his wife and his grief isn't pushed to one side for the sake of easy story telling. I've dropped little hints of his bereavement throughout the series, nothing too loud, but it's there in the background, my way of paying respect to one aspect of canon Jack that touches me very deeply despite the mess the movie makes of his story.

Out of all my Reader! characters, I would say that Darlin' is my most unassuming one. Not in a bad way at all, it's just that she doesn't have as loud a personality as Shiv or Pin, or as dramatic a storyline as Sweetheart. But this chapter, she just really came into her own. That last scene will stay with me forever ❤️

Edited to add a reminder that we still have one more chapter to go before we say goodbye to these two. I’m not ready 😭

#queue #comment reply

572 notes · View notes