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sluttywonwoo · 8 months

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instead of you [part twenty-six] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, angst, smut (mdni)

word count: 5.1k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

additional smut warnings: oral (f receiving), protected sex, multiple orgasms

The silence that followed your admission was excruciating. You wished you knew what Minho was thinking. He was impossible to read, aside from the evident anger written all over his face. His body language didn’t give much away either. He was closed off, arms folded across his chest, chin raised just slightly.

“So who are you then?” he demanded, tone even despite being the exact opposite mere moments ago.

“What?”

“Who are you? Are you just some girl that Jisung is using?”

“What the fuck, no!”

“Why are you acting like that’s some outrageous possibility? I just found out you’ve been lying to everyone all summer!”

“I’ve been Jisung’s best friend for like four years now, I’m all over his Instagram! Felix came to visit us and we all hung out, there are pictures of that too. I can’t believe you’d think I’m some random person!”

“You’ll have to forgive me for not thinking completely rationally right now!” he spat. “Why the hell would Jisung lie about- why would he say he had a girlfriend if he didn’t?”

“It’s a long story,” you mumbled with a sigh. “But we really don’t have time to get into that right now. I came up here because I was supposed to bring you back to the room.”

Minho made a face. “What, why?”

“Your cousins called.”

The shift in his demeanor was immediate. He visibly perked up, but only briefly, before seeming to remember the conversation he was having. “Jeongin and Yoon?”

“Yeah. Everyone else is on FaceTime with them right now. I told everyone I’d come to get you so that none of them would have to miss out on talking to him,” you explained. “So we should probably get going because I don’t know how long he has to chat.”

“Fine,” Minho surrendered easily, “but we’re not done talking about this.”

“Yeah, yeah I know,” you sighed again, still feeling nauseous. With everything that had already happened, you knew there was no way that this could end well. But now, now that one person knew it was all a lie, you were fucked. “Just… don’t tell anyone, please?”

He pursed his lips but nodded. “You sure have a lot of secrets to keep track of, don’t you?”

It was meant to sting, and it did, but you didn’t let him see the crack in the glass.

“I could say the same for you.”

You slipped into your room as soon as you got back to the penthouse, not wanting to face any of the other Hans, especially not your best friend. You collapsed onto the bed with a muffled scream into your pillow.

You expected yourself to start crying, but the tears didn’t come. They wouldn’t come. The initial panic had been replaced with numbness. Apathy personified, you could feel it spreading from your heart out through your veins, creating a tingling sensation that reached the very tips of your fingers.

You had to tell Jisung, right? He’d understand… probably. You hadn’t told Minho. He figured it out on his own. Yeah, you should tell Jisung and then you could also come clean about… everything else. Maybe. But maybe you could also take it to your grave since it seemed like any possibility of you and Minho becoming an item, whatever that implied, was out of the question now. You knew he didn’t want anything to do with you anymore. Not after tonight. You couldn’t erase his look of betrayal from your mind no matter how hard you tried.

Just how many people were you hurting by merely being on this trip? There was no way to know for sure, not that knowing would make you feel any less guilty.

Maybe it was better not to tell Jisung. Maybe you could pretend like everything was fine, and then it would be. But that was what had gotten you in trouble in the first place.

You hadn’t realized you had fallen asleep until you woke up with a jolt some hours later. The room was dark. The lamp had been switched off and the blinds were shut. Jisung was snoring softly beside you. He was tucked under the covers while you were still laying on top of them.

You rolled over and felt for your phone, finding it underneath your pillow. You were surprised to see that you had missed a text from Minho. It was from an hour and a half ago and just said can you meet me in room 422?

You weren’t sure if he would still be waiting there since it had been so long since he sent the message, but you responded with a tentative sure and quietly snuck out of your bedroom. You hoped Jisung wouldn’t wake up before you returned. Having to explain where you were or why you were there would only complicate things. You still hadn’t decided whether or not to tell him… anything. You needed more time to think things through. At least, that’s the excuse you told yourself.

The fourth floor was eerily quiet, reminding you of how late it was. Stepping off the elevator into the hallway felt like a mistake, like you were trespassing on private property. Minho hadn’t replied to your text so you didn’t know if he was still awake, but you knocked at the door anyway. He answered after the second knock.

“There you are,” he said and stepped aside to let you in. He seemed to have cooled down, which was a good sign, but there was still tension lingering between you.

You slid by him, stopping in the entryway just past the door. The room he had summoned you to was just a plain hotel room. There was a queen-size bed in the middle of the room and a desk in the corner, but not much else.

“You can sit wherever.”

You nodded in acknowledgment and perched yourself on the edge of the bed. Minho followed you but refrained from sitting, choosing to lean back against the dresser so that he could face you.

“Why’d you want to meet me here?” you asked.

“I, uh, thought that talking in my room back at the apartment would look kind of weird if anyone saw us,” he explained awkwardly, “and the walls are thin too.”

“Alright, you have a point,” you admitted with a shaky exhale. “Whose room is this?”

“It’s mine. I went down to the lobby and booked it for the night.”

Oh to have a K-pop-sized disposable income.

“Oh, right. Should have thought of that.” You swallowed thickly, trying still to appear calm, cool, and collected. “Well, what did you want to talk about?”

You realized that Minho hadn’t mentioned wanting to talk in his text. You were just assuming. But given the events of the night, you felt that it was a pretty safe assumption to make.

“I wanted to know why you and Jisung lied to everyone,” he took a brief pause before continuing, “and why I now have to lie to everyone too.”

You bit your tongue, stopping yourself before you could point out that he was already lying to everyone, and just nodded.

“So the thing is, when he told your parents he had a girlfriend, he did have a girlfriend. They broke up, like, less than a week after he told them that and I guess he was too embarrassed to break the news because they were so excited for him and had already invited her on the trip. Jisung figured that maybe he’d have another girlfriend by the time he actually had to go on the trip, but when the end of the semester rolled around and he didn’t, I kind of filled the vacancy because he asked me to.”

“But why?” Minho pressed. “Why was it so important for him to be dating someone?”

“I don’t know, actually. He told me that it was to make your parents happy because they were always bugging him about his dating life, but I thought there might have been another reason that he just wasn’t telling me.”

Minho hummed thoughtfully. “Mom and dad are pretty nosy about our lives, but I don’t know why he would feel pressured to be in a relationship.”

“I think he felt like he had something to prove,” you said, choosing your words carefully. You knew how rocky Jisung’s relationship with his older brother was, at least from what he told you. You didn’t want to give Minho anything he could hold against him. “You’re not going to say anything to your parents or Felix, are you?”

“No,” he answered immediately and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “That’s his prerogative, I suppose. I don’t want to start anything between us- it’s not my place to say anything, really.”

“Thank you.”

He let his arms drop to his sides but didn’t move from where he was standing. “So, there’s really nothing going on between you and Jisung?”

“No, I swear.”

“Even after spending all this time together on the trip?”

“Nope, we spend all of our time together anyway.”

“So are you… friends with benefits?” he asked.

“No. We’ve made out a few times, but it really just happens when we’re drunk. We never slept together.”

“But what about…” he trailed off, but you understood what he was talking about instantly.

“Oh, no! That was all fake. We just did that to sell it more, and sometimes to mess with you guys.”

“I knew there was no way he could be that good,” Minho whispered.

You chuckled but came to your friend’s defense. “He seems to do pretty well for himself. Girls usually call him back after staying over so he must be doing something right.”

“I can’t believe it was fake,” Minho mumbled, mostly to himself. “Sorry, I’m still processing this.”

“Take your time.”

You leaned back on the palms of your hands, feeling a little more relaxed now that you knew he didn’t hate you.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asked finally, letting the mask fall the tiniest bit. “After I kissed you the first time? Or when you kissed me back? This whole time I’ve felt like such an asshole for- for everything that happened.”

“I thought about it,” you admitted, “but Jisung and I agreed that it would stay between us. I’m sorry.”

“I get why you didn’t. I just wish it could have been different.”

“Me too,” you agreed.

Minho crossed over to the bed and sat down next to you.

“I’m sorry I went through your stuff.”

You threw your head back laughing. You hadn’t expected him to say that. “It’s fine. Honestly, it’s a relief not to have to keep up the act around you anymore.”

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?” Minho raised an eyebrow and grinned, making you shy away from his gaze.

You looked down at your lap.

“Because it was exhausting! I don’t know how to act.” It was a half-truth, and you suspected that he knew it.

“You had me fooled.”

You managed to look back up at him only to find him staring at your lips. This was not how you imagined this conversation going at all.

“Maybe I should change career paths then,” you choked out.

“Yeah, maybe.”

A few more beats of silence lapsed between you before Minho spoke again.

“All of this time we could have been doing this,” he murmured gently.

You scrunched your face up in confusion. “What’s ‘doing this’?”

He leaned forward and bridged the gap between you by pressing his lips to yours to answer your question. His hand came up to your hair instinctively, muscle memory, and brushed it out of your face before cupping your jaw. You melted into him like you had done too many times before, letting him trace the curves of your face with his thumb like he was trying to memorize it.

His palm was warm and you could feel the calluses on his hand against your cheek. You were the first to moan, any embarrassment long forgotten as you climbed onto his lap.

Minho accommodated your weight easily, hands immediately coming down to grab your ass. He allowed you to push him down so that he was lying flat on the bed with you straddling his waist.

Minho slipped his tongue into your mouth as the kiss intensified, teasing you with it. You whimpered when he pulled away, bottom lip jutting out into a pout. Minho just smirked and used the opportunity to flip you over so that he was on top.

Then his lips were back on you, brushing against your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. As soon as you felt his teeth graze your skin you pushed his head back and gave him a look. It was his turn to pout.

“You can’t leave marks, idiot.”

“Oh yeah, sorry,” he said apologetically, though the shit-eating grin on his face let you know that he didn’t mean it whatsoever. “Well, you can mark me up as much as you want.”

You rolled your eyes. “Lucky me.”

Minho ignored your comment and raised himself onto his hands, still hovering over you. He looked pretty, even in the dim, yellowy hotel room light. His lips were already a bit puffy, but he hadn’t even been kissing you for that long. You briefly wondered how they’d look after making out with your cunt, all swollen and glossy. You tried to squeeze your thighs together at the thought, legs closing around Minho’s hips instead. He seemed pleased at your eagerness and rewarded you with another kiss.

“Can I take your shirt off?” he asked when he came up for air. You nodded. “Here, lift up a little.”

You did as he asked so that he could work the t-shirt over your head, laughing when he tossed it on the floor.

“You weren’t wearing a bra?”

“I was about to go to sleep!”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Likely story.”

“No, you’re right. I came here in my pajamas fully intending to seduce you.”

“Well, it worked.”

“Of course it did. Men are so easy.”

He shook his head, tongue poking his cheek. “You’re going to regret saying that.”

You cocked your head to the side, fully aware that Minho had the physical upper hand. “We’ll see.”

As soon as the words left your mouth Minho’s hands were on your boobs, effectively shutting you up. He circled a thumb around each of your nipples, smirking when you gasped and arched your back.

“Barely even touching you and look how eager you are for me,” he mused.

“T-take your shirt off too.” It was meant to be a command, but it sounded more like a plea.

“What’s the magic word?”

“Fuck you.”

“Fine, since you asked so nicely.”

Minho reached behind his neck and yanked his t-shirt off, throwing it in the same general direction as he had thrown yours. You had seen Minho shirtless plenty of times before and you still couldn’t help but stare. His body looked like one of those statues you had seen in the Louvre, carved out of marble by one of the artists they named the Ninja Turtles after.

You reached out to touch his chest, running your fingertips along his pale skin.

“Can I take these off too?” Minho asked, playing with the hem of your sweats. He snapped the elastic band against your hip, making you flinch.

“Yes, please get them off of me, it’s hot,” you whined.

You were left in just your underwear beneath him. You were usually pretty confident with sexual partners, but with Minho you felt exposed, vulnerable. You felt the urge to cover yourself, even though he was looking at you like you were a star amongst the cosmos.

He repositioned himself lower in between your legs and before you could ask what he was doing, he pressed his tongue against your clothed cunt, licking a fat stripe between your folds.

You cried out in surprise, hips bucking into his face as a string of curses left your mouth.

Minho raised his head, smiling sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I’ve been imagining what you taste like for weeks. I just had to know.”

“It felt good,” you assured him, silently begging him to continue. “Was it what you hoped it would be?”

“Better. Can I please keep going?”

“God, yes.”

He placed a hand on either one of your thighs to hold you down as he buried his head in between your legs again. He teased you with his tongue over your panties, finding your clit in an impressively short amount of time. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pushing his head against you. He groaned, his grip on your thighs tightening as you pulled his hair.

“Please, need more,” you whined.

And Minho was all too willing to give you exactly that. Instead of taking the time to take your panties off, he just pulled them to the side so that he could have complete access to your pussy. He went back to work and you both moaned. His tongue was wet and warm and felt perfect on your clit. You frowned when he started moving lower, confused as to what he was doing until you felt his tongue working you open. No one had ever tongue-fucked you before and you thought you might cum from that alone.

Minho paused again to catch his breath. “Fuck, I knew you were wet, but I didn’t expect you to be this wet,” he rasped out.

“Sorry,” you hissed, cheeks warm with embarrassment.

“Who the fuck ever told you to apologize for being turned on?”

“N-no one.”

“Good, because it’s hot.”

You scoffed.

“Lay back down,” Minho said, nodding at you to punctuate his point.

You rolled your eyes at him but did as he said anyway. “You’re so bossy.”

“Do you want me to keep going or not?”

“Fine, fine. Sorry.”

“I fucking knew you were a brat,” he sneered.

“What gave it away?” you asked sweetly.

“Take a wild guess.”

You propped yourself up on your elbows again despite just being told to lie down. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Instead of answering, Minho hooked his arms under your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the bed, making you lose your balance and yelp in surprise. You watched his shoulder muscles flex as he used his strength to push your hips down, preventing you from squirming. The sight was enough to make you want to squeeze your thighs together, but of course, Minho was stopping you from doing just that.

He pulled your panties off completely this time, apparently frustrated with the obstacle in his way. They joined the heap of clothes on the ground. You didn’t even need to look at them to know that they were ruined.

His mouth was back on you before you could get another word in, causing any snarky remark you’d been about to make dissolve into a moan. It was a little sloppy at first. He had yet to fully regain his bearings, but dove in headfirst anyway. Kisses against the crux of your thigh, nips at your hip bones. Teasing and experimental.

His touch didn’t have the practiced familiarity of a lover. Each movement was eager, exploratory. He was learning your body like he had all the time in the world, but you were growing impatient.

Your hands flew to his hair again as he finally laved his tongue over your clit. You suppressed your moans this time, remembering what he had said about the neighbors.

“Fuck, keep going,” you hissed, encouraging him to continue. “Please keep going.”

You could feel Minho smirking against your pussy, but you didn’t care. He could be as cocky as he wanted if he was going to make you feel this good.

It didn’t take much to get you to the edge. It had been a while since you’d gotten laid, and you had been wanting Minho for God knows how long… you would usually be embarrassed, not want to give a man a bigger ego than he already had, but you had a feeling Minho was trying to get you to cum before fucking you and you wanted him inside of you as quickly as possible. If anything, you were doing him a favor.

“C-close, Min. ‘M really close!”

You could barely make out the muffled “already?” that came from him between your legs, but you still rolled your eyes anyway, half-tempted to push his head away.

He guided two of his fingers inside of you, giving you something to clench around as you came. The intention behind the action is what did it. He clearly cared about your pleasure which was rare to find in a partner, especially when said partner was a man.

You came almost instantly, catching Minho off-guard as if “I’m close” hadn’t been warning enough. He must have taken it as an advanced notice rather than an immediate head’s up. He grunted in surprise as you bucked your hips up into his face, but recovered quickly, helping you ride out the orgasm until you relaxed back on the bed.

He lifted his head finally, grinning like he’d just won the lottery, and sucked your arousal off of his fingers, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand shortly afterward.

“Good?” he asked.

“Really good,” you managed to choke out.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, take your pants off.”

Minho chuckled. “Should’ve known you’d only want me for my body.”

You pursed your lips but didn’t bother responding. You both knew that wasn’t true. Otherwise, why would you be risking everything just to fuck him?

Minho pushed himself off of the bed and shimmied out of his pants. As good as he looked in the gray sweats, you knew he would look even better with them off. And you were right. Even though he was still wearing his briefs, you could see the outline of his dick much more prominently. It made your mouth water and you sat up and shifted onto your knees to return the favor he had just given you.

Minho saw you reaching out for him but shook his head.

“I need to feel you,” he said, voice strained. “If that’s okay. I already almost came in my pants just from eating you out, I won’t last.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Not many men would admit to that.”

“Not many men would admit to getting off on making their partner feel good? You’re right.”

You watched as he picked his pants up off the floor and pulled a condom out of one of the pockets.

“Oh now you have a condom?” you teased.

“Look, I usually have them on me, I just didn’t that night,” he exclaimed in defense, the thin foil packet between his teeth. He ripped it open and pulled the rubber out, only pausing when you spoke again.

“You don’t keep them in your wallet, do you?”

“I do, but I change them out pretty often. Is that okay?”

“That’s fine.”

With that settled, he slipped out of his underwear and rolled the condom on with ease. He joined you on the bed a moment later. You laid back and waited for Minho to position himself.

“Wait-” you whispered suddenly, having been so in the moment that you had almost forgotten. “Are you clean?”

Minho let out a sigh of relief, probably having thought something was wrong. “Yeah, I got tested like two months ago.”

“But the other night with that girl-”

“I didn’t sleep with her.”

“Oh. Why?”

“I mean, I fully intended to, if I’m being honest. But I just… couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t get it up?”

“Something like that,” he sighed. “I probably should’ve asked this before going down on you, but you’re clean too, right?”

You nodded. “I get tested all the time and I haven’t had sex in a while.”

“That makes two of us.”

You looked at him expectantly. “You may… continue.”

“I’m surprised that didn’t immediately make my dick soft.”

“Oh, give me a break. My brain is still fuzzy from cumming.”

He snorted. “You’re welcome.”

“I can’t believe that didn’t immediately make me dry up.”

“I’m allowed to be cocky!” he protested. “I made you cum in, what, a minute flat?”

“It took longer than a minute!”

“I don’t know about that. I think we should check the replay.”

“You’re such a dork.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “And that must really turn you on. ‘Cause last time I checked you were dripping onto the sheets.”

“I-” you had nothing. You squeezed your thighs around Minho’s waist, trying to coax him inside of you. “Just stick it in already!”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he repeated.

You held onto his arms as he pushed himself in, sighing in relief at the fullness. He wasn’t the biggest you’d ever had, but he was still sizable. You had to take a second to adjust to the stretch before he could start to move. He fit perfectly, at least that’s what it felt like. You were positive he could tell how much you liked his cock from the way you unconsciously clenched around him, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to care. If his ego inflated to the size of the moon after this, fuck it.

“Fuck, st-stop doing that,” Minho stuttered, pressing one of his hands against your hip to try and keep you still.

“I’m not doing anything!”

“You’re, God, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he hissed. “If you keep clenching like that I’m gonna cum.”

“Oh sorry, I didn’t even realize.”

You took a deep breath and willed your body to relax. It had been so long since you’d been properly fucked and you didn’t want it to be over before it even started.

“Are you good to keep going?” Minho asked once he’d regained some semblance of composure.

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “Yeah, fuck please move.”

He leaned down to kiss you as he began to rock his hips into yours and you met him halfway. You could still taste yourself on his tongue, on his lips. He groaned into your mouth and nipped at your bottom lip when you pulled away.

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he confessed, voice raspy.

Baby was new. And it made you whimper in response.

“So goddamn tight. It’s like your pussy was made for me.”

Did he say this to every girl he fucked? Because it sounded like a line, but it was working like a charm on you.

As if he realized he was rambling, he busied his mouth in other ways. He kissed your neck, careful not to leave marks, before moving down to the valley of your breasts where he continued his work. The way he lowered himself onto you pushed his cock in even deeper, something you didn’t think was possible.

His lips were warm. They were so warm. Each kiss felt like you were touching the sun. You could feel the heat against your skin even as he moved away, pressing kisses elsewhere.

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Minho asked.

You hadn’t even realized that you had been smiling, or that he had stopped kissing you. He was going faster now too. You hadn’t noticed that either. You were far too gone, clearly.

“Feels good,” was as much as you could manage, but that seemed to satisfy Minho.

“Yeah? Have I fucked you dumb already?” he cooed condescendingly.

You nodded. “Feels sooo good. Feel so full.”

You’d be embarrassed by your barely-comprehensible sentences, but you didn’t have the capacity to feel anything other than pleasure in that moment. You doubted you’d even remember what you said in the morning.

“You close again, baby?”

“Uh huh.”

“Fuck, me too. I’ll get you there, though. I’ll make you feel even better.”

He brought one of his hands down to your clit and used his thumb to rub somewhat uncoordinated circles on it. He was gentler than he had been before, like he knew you were still sensitive from cumming the first time. The added stimulation brought you back to the edge in record time and all you could do to alert Minho of what was happening was frantically grab his bicep and squeeze it repeatedly.

“Gonna cum? Go ahead, baby.”

Your entire body tensed as your second orgasm of the night washed over you. Minho fucked you through it again, announcing that he was cumming right as you started to come down. Watching his face scrunch up in pleasure as he came was almost enough to send you into a third orgasm. His eyes shut and his mouth fell open into an O shape as his hips faltered. He didn’t stop thrusting until he was certain he’d given you every last drop of his cum, choking out a string of curses followed by your name through gritted teeth.

He collapsed on top of you seconds later, completely spent and still inside of you.

“Fuck, that was good,” he panted. You nodded in agreement, wincing when you felt him pull out. “You okay?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think I can walk. My legs feel like jelly.”

“Would another orgasm help?”

“No,” you groaned. “I can’t take another one.”

“I was kidding. C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up and back to your room.”

“Nooo, I’m tired,” you whined.

“I know, I know,” he said softly, “but you can’t sleep here. Unless you want Jisung to find out?”

“Fine,” you mumbled. Your eyes were closed, but you could hear him moving around the hotel room. “Just give me like five minutes to nap.”

“You know I can’t do that.” When you opened your eyes he was wearing pants again and standing beside the bed waiting for you. “You need to shower. And pee. A UTI in the middle of vacation would really suck.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You knew that before sleeping with me.”

“Yeah, and I still did it anyway. Now, get up.”

“You’re so bossy,” you muttered under your breath, repeating the sentiment you had already voiced. Minho just chuckled and helped you to your feet.

“You seemed to like that earlier.”

“Yeah, when you were making me cum.”

“Well, I won’t be able to make you cum anymore if you contract an infection. So I have to be bossy or else you won’t listen.”

“Or else you won’t listen,” you mocked.

Minho grinned despite himself and shook his head at you. “We should’ve started doing this way sooner.”

hope y'all liked this one :) lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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joelsgreys · 9 months

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Lonely Too Long l (To Hell and Back Drabble)

Series Masterlist

Summary: After escaping a group of brutal slavers, you are left with permanent physical and emotional scars. Unwilling to put your trust in another human being ever again, you spend a year fighting for survival alone in the post outbreak world. But when you choose to save the life of a man named Joel Miller, the wall that you’ve built to protect yourself slowly begins to crumble.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+ only, minors DNI. Flashback of implied SA, but no descriptions. Soft Joel, Joel sings to reader. *If you happen to be reading the series, I recommend reading this one because it starts setting up Joel and reader’s relationship. This is also the last flashback she’s going to have since it’s a heavier one than the last two.

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Dust to Dust is one of my favorite songs by The Civil Wars. I know the song did not come out until like 2013, but we’re just going to pretend. Also, I know that the gif is video game Joel, but god I love him just as much and it fits this scene so we are gonna roll with it. I know this might not be everyone’s cup of tea but I wanted to write it so I did. 🤌🏼 I am still organizing the taglist for this series, it will be start with the next chapter. This was mostly for me but hopefully some people out there enjoy it too. 🤍

You couldn’t scream.

You’re trying to cry out, but you can’t.

Chest tight, your lungs won’t expand.

You couldn’t breathe.

One hand around your neck, the other is fumbling with the zipper of your jeans.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he grinned, his fingers roughly scraping against the skin of your lower stomach.

In the corner, your cellmate is curled into a little ball in the floor, hands covering her ears and her eyes squeezed shut.

She’s probably praying she won’t be next.

She’s seventeen so even in the midst of your own chaos, you can’t help but pray she isn’t next too.

You thrashed around underneath him. It’s futile, but all you can think about is getting him off you.

Grin fading, he let out a heavy, irritated sigh. His hand left the waistband of your jeans. He reached behind him and pulled out his gun, bringing it up to into your view—it caused you to cease any and all movements. “Listen to me,” he said, pressing the barrel of the pistol against your temple. “It’s simple, really. Keep squirming and I’ll blow your fucking brains out. Do you understand, dollface?”

When he received no response, he dug the barrel deeper into your skin, his finger on the trigger.

“Do you understand?” He repeated, his tone low.

Nearly paralyzed, all you could do was nod.

“Good.” He roughly flipped you over.

The sound of his belt buckle clanking rang loudly in your ears. As he yanked your jeans down to the middle of your thighs, you closed your eyes.

Both your mind and your body went numb.

A light, late night rainstorm came out of nowhere, sweeping over the town. The soft, pitter pattering sound of raindrops on the window above your bed had almost lulled you into slumber.

Almost.

You’re safe.

The words blended into a steady but silent chant.

You’re safe.

You’re fucking safe.

Slapping the palm of your hand to your forehead, you exhaled a long, heavy sigh and stared up into the the darkness of the bedroom.

You couldn’t be certain as to what time it was, but it had to be well into the middle of the night. You’d been tossing and turning for a couple of hours but somehow it felt like a hell of a lot longer than that.

You were fucking exhausted. You nearly ached for some sleep, but every damn time that you closed your eyes, vivid images of the past came creeping in and chased it further and further away.

Your brain just couldn’t seem to wrap itself around the fact that this place wasn’t dangerous.

That you didn’t have to sleep with one eye open.

That nobody was going to hurt you.

That you were safe in a soft bed in a real house.

You weren’t lying on a dirty cot in a human cage.

Sighing again, you thought about Joel who was in his bedroom down the hallway, sleeping.

It brought you comfort knowing he was close. But for some reason you couldn’t quite explain, part of you couldn’t help but feel he wasn’t close enough.

You. The same woman who vowed never to trust another human being ever again—you wanted him fucking closer. Actually, it wasn’t a want so much as it was a need.

You needed him to be closer.

Sitting up, you tossed the sheets back and swung your legs over the edge of the mattress, your bare feet meeting the cold, hardwood floors. You stood and quietly padded out of the bedroom and down the hallway towards Joel’s.

“You know where to find me if you need anythin’,” he’d assured you before he had gone off to bed.

You stopped in front of his door and lifted a curled first, knocking lightly. About a minute or two went by, and just when you started to realize that you’d made a mistake and whirled around to make a run for it back to your own room where you could hop back into bed and pretend that the thought of this hadn’t ever even crossed your mind, he opened up his bedroom door.

“Thought I heard a knock,” Joel mumbled sleepily, rubbing at his eyes with one of his hands. He wore nothing but his sweatpants, his hair looking about ten times more disheveled than usual. “Everythin’ alright?”

You swallowed dryly, trying your hardest not to let your eyes wander away from his face—it proved to be almost too difficult to keep from staring. Joel’s shoulders were broad, his chest was wide, and his stomach was soft; his sweatpants hung on the low side on his hips and revealed the trail of dark curls that started at his lower belly and descended until it disappeared underneath the elastic waistband.

You caught yourself before they could go lower.

“Somethin’ the matter, darlin’?” he asked, stifling a yawn. Thankfully he hasn’t seemed to notice you gawking at him. He rubbed at his eyes once again and then observed you, trying to figure out what it was that had brought you to his room at this hour. “You need somethin’? Are you cold? Did you need an extra blanket?”

You lightly shook your head in response. No.

He tried again. “Are you still hungry?” he asked as he gestured towards the stairs. “I can make you another sandwich if you want—”

He was cut off by another shake of your head that told him that wasn’t it.

“You just can’t sleep,” Joel realized after a minute. He frowned—he could see how tired you were and for as much as he didn’t want to think about it, he had a feeling that he knew what it was that was on your mind and keeping you awake. “What can I do to help, sweetness?”

You blinked, standing there almost dumbfounded.

Clearly, you hadn’t thought this through.

You would knock on Joel’s door and then what?

You would talk to him about what’s on your mind?

Letting out a tiny frustrated huff that was directed at yourself, you waved a dismissive hand in the air.

Forget it. There’s nothing you can do.

As you turned around to leave, Joel reached out to take your arm. He curled his fingers lightly around your elbow. “Well now, hold on a minute. You’re at my door for a reason,” he said. He watched as your eyes flickered to his hand around your arm, but he couldn’t be sure if his touch had bothered you. He dropped it, not wanting to risk pushing you too far or crossing a line, not when he had made progress with you, progress he didn’t want to lose. “You not bein’ able to sleep—it have anythin’ to do with you still not feelin’ safe?”

You hesitated.

“It’s alright, darlin’. You can be honest with me.”

The sheepish expression on your face said it all.

No, I can’t sleep because I don’t feel safe.

“Would it help if you slept with me?”

You raised your eyebrows at him, eyes widening at his proposal. At least, the way he’d said it.

Excuse me?

Realizing how it had sounded, Joel flushed. “What I mean is, would it help if you slept in my bed?” He winced. That hadn’t sounded all that much better. “You sleep in my bed and I’ll sleep on the floor,” he sputtered out quickly. “That’s what I meant. That way I’m right next to you and you ain’t alone.”

Gnawing nervously on your bottom lip, you took a minute to think it over.

If you wanted him closer, this was your chance.

But why? Why did you want him to be closer? Why did you need to have him at your side?

You’d been on your own for an entire fucking year.

And it had been by choice.

You didn’t want to be around other people, sure as hell didn’t need to be around other people.

And then Joel Miller makes his appearance and all of a sudden, you’re at his door in the middle of the damn night because you feel the need to have him at your side?

Finally, you nodded your head. Okay.

“Come in.” He stepped aside, allowing you in. Not wanting you to feel trapped in his room, he left the door open. “And you’re free to go on back to your own room whenever you feel like it.”

Joel picked up his discarded tee shirt from earlier, a small labored grunt escaping him as he brought himself back into an upright position, the bones in his lower back crackling with protest. Turning over his shirt right side out, he tugged it on as you took a look around his bedroom, a larger space dimly lit by the small lamp on his nightstand.

That’s when you saw it.

Perched on a stand, it was nestled in the corner.

A guitar.

Curiously, you walked over and knelt in front of it.

You reached out and softly ran your fingers across the strings, smiling to yourself at the sound it had made.

“Found that while out on patrol with Tommy a few weeks ago,” Joel stated as he came up behind you slowly. “Gibson. Little worse for wear, but in damn good condition all things considerin’. Woulda been a crime to leave it out there,” he chuckled. “I know Ellie’s been wantin’ to learn, it’s the main reason it came back home with me. I haven’t shown her yet since I still gotta clean and polish her up.” He took a brief pause. “You know how to play?”

You ran your fingers across the strings once more, and a loud, terrible noise that wasn’t even close to music caused him to wince. You then looked up at him over your shoulder with an amused grin.

Does it sound like I know how to play?

Joel couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ll take that as a no, then.” He leaned over and picked up the guitar. He walked over and took a seat on the side of his bed, patting the seat beside him. “C’mere, sweetness.”

Getting up to your feet, you wrapped Joel’s flannel closer around your body as you padded over to his bed, perching yourself next to him.

Head down and focused, he began to strum a few notes. You couldn’t help but to be mesmerized by how his large hands moved on the instrument, the way his long, thick fingers—

Swallowing dryly, you cut the thought short.

Curiously, you put a hand on his shoulder.

Joel paused the tune. “What is it, darlin’?”

With your opposite hand, you touched your throat and then pointed at him. Can you sing?

He gave a half hearted shrug. “I do like to sing,” he admitted almost bashfully. “Always been fond of it ever since I was a kid.” He chuckled. “Before goin’ into construction, I wanted to be a musician. But I knew it would never pay the bills.”

You squeezed Joel’s shoulder and gestured to the guitar, then to his throat again. Will you sing me a song?

Joel felt the back of his neck burn and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Normally, I would probably say no,” he admitted. “But, seein’ as you saved my life and all, I’d be a real asshole if I said no to you.”

Lifting your chin, you shot him a smug look. That is very true. So go on then, Johnny Cash. Play me a song.

“Alright. Any requests?”

You nudged him lightly. Very funny.

“Okay, um. Gimme a minute to think of a song.”

Withdrawing your hand from his shoulder, you sat back against his pillows and pulled your legs up to your chest, hugging your knees.

Nervously, Joel inhaled and exhaled a deep breath and began strumming the guitar. Chills shot down your spinal cord as a hauntingly beautiful melody filled his bedroom. He turned and angled his body towards to you as he began to sing.

“You’ve held your head up,

you’ve fought the fight

you bear the scars, you’ve done your time

listen to me, you’ve been lonely too long…”

Your mouth fell open slightly.

“Let me in the walls you’ve built around

we can light a match and burn them down…”

The rich baritone of his voice caused goosebumps to eruprt all over your flesh. Furiously, you rubbed at your bare legs, but it was useless.

With every note Joel sang to you, more appeared.

With every note Joel sang to you, the harder you found it to breathe steady.

With every note Joel sang to you, the more beats your heart seemed to be skipping.

“Let me hold your hand

and dance ‘round and ‘round the flames

in front of us, dust to dust…”

Joel glanced up, his dark brown eyes holding your gaze as he sang the final verse of the song.

“You’re like a mirror, reflectin’ me

takes one to know one, so take it from me

you’ve been lonely

you’ve been lonely too long.”

Even if you could speak to him, you would’ve been left speechless—all that you could do was stare at him in complete awe.

Joel set the guitar down. “I’m alright,” he said with a sheepish little laugh. “My voice ain’t nowhere as nice as yours.”

You stiffened slightly.

What are you talking about?

“Don’t look at me like that. I know it was you who I heard singin’ back at that cabin when I was comin’ back around.” He gave you a crooked grin. “Earlier I was just playin’ dumb, but I know it was you. You have a gorgeous voice, and I’d love to hear it again someday.”

Hugging your legs closer to yourself, you dropped your head down onto your knees, embarrassed.

What was the matter with you?

Here was a man who had taken you in, offered you a warm bed under his own roof—gave you clothes and fed you, even offered to give up his own damn bed and sleep on the cold hard floor beside you to make you feel safe enough to sleep.

And you still couldn’t say a fucking word to him.

“Hey. Look at me.”

Forcing your head up, your gaze met his.

“It’s alright, darlin’,” Joel assured you. “It’s just like I told you downstairs. We’re gonna take it one step at a time.” Lifting one of his hands, he reached out holding it out to you, his palm face upwards. “And I swear, once you find your voice, I’m gonna do all that I can do to make sure you never lose it again.”

Biting your lower lip, you placed your hand in his.

Joel have it a gentle squeeze. “Atta girl.”

Much sooner than you would have liked, he let go of your hand and stood up.

“We should get some sleep. You’re gonna need all the rest you can get before you meet my kid. Ellie. She’ll be here first thing and I should warn you she can be, uh, she can be a lot to process.” He let out an amused snort and reached for a pillow, tossing it onto the floor. “You can have all the blankets, I’ll just take this throw here—”

As Joel reached past you for a green flannel throw blanket, you grabbed his arm to stop him. His face was just inches from yours.

Close.

But again somehow still not close enough.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked, softly.

Warm and laced with mint from the toothpaste he had used to brush his teeth before bed, his breath tickled the tip of of your nose, sending a pleasant shiver up your spine.

Your eyes looked right into his as you scooter over to the other side of his bed—it was firm, cold. Like no one had ever occupied that space before. But it was foolish to think that a man like Joel Miller had never had another woman share his bed before.

You patted the spot beside you.

Sleep up here.

“You sure about this, darlin’?”

You patted the empty spot again. Yes I’m sure.

Joel squinted at you. “You ain’t gonna strangle me in my sleep, are you now?”

His half serious joke was met with a glare.

Keep it up with wise cracks and I just might.

He held his hands up in defense. “Just checkin.”

As you crawled underneath his dark green sheets, Joel slid into bed beside you, making sure to leave a good three foot gap between the both of you; he murmured a quiet goodnight and switched off the lamp on his nightstand before rolling over onto his stomach—not even two minutes later and his soft snores filled the room.

You turned onto your side, facing him. Through a beam of moonlight steaming in through a crack in the curtains, you could just make out the outlines of his facial features. He’d fallen asleep facing you.

Closing your eyes, your body sank further into the mattress, heavy with exhaustion.

Taut, tense muscles finally relaxed.

Tight jaw finally unclenched.

You’re safe.

You slowly started drifting off to sleep.

With Joel beside you, no nightmares came to visit.

#to hell and back #to hell and back fic #joel miller #joel miller comfort #soft joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller drabble #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #Joel miller series #Joel miller story #joel miller fic #Joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #Spotify

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whateveriwqnt25 · 22 days

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Scared of my guitar-Alessia Russo x reader

Alessia Russo x reader

Description: in which reader stays in a relationship where she pretends it’s love.

Warnings: It’s just so heartbreaking so be prepared. So much angst no happy ending! ( You should listen to “Scared of my guitar” by Olivia Rodrigo while reading this if you want)

You loved her so much. She was the love of your life. You met your girlfriend when you both were 16 years old. Alessia was the love of your life right? She was your first everything. Your first kiss,your first time,and your first girlfriend. Every couple had problems. Everyone had mixed emotions about their relationship right? Or was it just you?

She always knew what you needed and wanted,but why were you feeling so anxious about your relationship with her? Why were you worried about her feelings for you and yours? Laying in her arms felt so right yet so wrong. This was love right?

While her love for football grew, yours faded away, you decided to do something else you loved up so much. You became a writer and everyone loved everything you wrote. Rather it was true or just fiction your fans wanted to hear everything you wrote.

Alessia, she was the most loving person you met. She knew that no matter what happened she wanted to do everything with you by her side. With you sitting in the stands watching her play it gave her so much confidence to know you were there.

One day everything changed. Everything felt so blank. It felt like you were in a relationship that just kept constantly going and you felt so so tired. This is all temporary you said to yourself. Because Alessia made you happy. She made you feel so loved she was your safe heaven she was your safety net right??

***

“Are we okay?” She whispered one night while you guys were laying down. That made your heart hurt. You wanted to say no to scream how you're so tired,but you couldn’t hurt her like that. You couldn’t watch her cry. So you looked at her and smiled softly.

“Of course baby we’re okay. I’ve been so busy lately I’m sorry.” Your girlfriend shook her head and pulled you into a kiss and smiled “ It’s okay baby let’s get some rest now.” And she pulled into her arms.

Laying in her arms felt so wrong. It felt so wrong lying to her but you couldn’t ruin her happiness. You couldn’t tell her that you are lying and that you aren’t feeling those feelings you felt all those years ago.

You stayed awake just like every other night fighting the constant battle of thoughts in your head. “I’m okay,” you whispered softly.

***

Alessia was out of town for an away game and you couldn’t make it because you had some business to do back home. Alessia felt you pull away,but she didn’t know how to say it or bring it up.

“ She’s pretending that we’re okay,but I know weren’t. Something is wrong Katie,and she won’t tell me. What if she’s cheating on me?” She whispered as her voice cracked. The older woman pulled her friend into a hug and calmed her down. She looked over the blonde's shoulder and looked at her girlfriend and gave her a small sad smile.

“ Lessi, that girl loves you so much, just talk to her.”

***

You tried so hard to tell Alessia what was wrong but you couldn’t. No matter how much you keep saying the same thing over, and over again. “I’m okay.” Or “ I’ve never been happier than I am right now.”

The more you lied the more you felt so numb,and guilty. Your girlfriend and everyone around you saw the light that shined so brightly in your eyes die and disappear. You disappeared before them,and it scared them.

***

“ She’s so perfect for me I don’t think I could break her heart.” You told your best mate. Lia looked at you with a sad smile “ You can’t keep stringing her along, you need to tell her the truth before you hurt her more.” She whispered and you looked at her and you knew she was right.

***

“Tell me the truth y/n/n are you cheating on me?” Alessia begged with tears in her eyes,and that sight alone made you want to cry,but you didn’t cry. You couldn’t cry anymore.

“ No I’m not cheating on you Alessia.” You said with little emotion that you had left.

“ THEN what is going on?” She yelled.

You could have said she was unimportant to you. That she was just unimportant as she was before you met her,but you couldn’t. You could say your love was like monarch butterflies, so beautiful,but so dangerous.

You didn’t say that. You knew if you left her you wouldn’t find anyone who loved you as much as she did. Nobody will ever love you as much as Alessia Russo loves you and that’s what scares you.

So you guess you’ll always be scared of your guitar,and there will always be an Alessia Russo shaped hole in your heart. You couldn’t trade something that’s so good for something that is right.

You’ll always be scared of your guitar.

***

A/N:Of course I was listening to “Sacred of my Guitar”

#woso community #woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #katie mccabe x reader #lia wälti #woso soccer

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southpawbitch · 7 months

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One More Night | Jake Seresin x Reader

(18+, minors dni)

word count: 3.1k

summary: a surprise wedding forces you and jake to pretend like everything is fine

warnings: drinking (that's mostly it), mention of parental death, aruguing, this is...sad

A/N: my first one shot!!! how?? idk. I have so many of these sitting in my google drive, so I'm going to start making my way thru them. pls let me know what you think :) x MJ

You have your whole speech planned out, running over it in your head again and again as you wait at the bar of your favorite spot for after work drinks with Nat, the best friend and coworker you could’ve ever asked for when you were first stationed here a while back. So much has changed since then–you, mainly. You were so young when you arrived here, and so full of optimism. You knew what you wanted out of life, and you were determined to get it. Meeting Jake was the cream cheese icing on top of it all–your favorite. Despite his hard exterior and asshole tendencies, he warmed up to you immediately. The teasing nicknames and playful jabs turned into inside jokes and private chats away from the rest of the group, which turned into something you had only ever dreamed of. You’re not sure which one of you fell in love first, but you’re certain you fell harder. Five years later, and it’s hard to even recognize who the two of you are anymore. Somewhere along the way you must have turned into someone new.

You pick up the glass sitting in front of the seat you’ve saved for her, downing it as fast as you possibly can. You’ve been waiting for longer than usual, and you’re anxious as hell to tell her the news. Your palms are so sweaty that you had to ask the bartender for extra napkins just to keep them dry enough for the glass to not slip out of your hands. You tap the screen of your phone that lays face up. It’s fifteen minutes past when she said she’d be here. You have a plethora of notifications. You haven’t opened your work friends group chat since Monday. In fact, you’ve barely done anything outside of work until today. You go to base in the mornings and get all your tasks for the day completed before you drive back to your empty house, drink half a bottle of wine, and fall asleep on the sofa. Your neck should ache from the awkward position you find yourself in every morning, but you’re too numb to feel anything–even the buzz from the two cocktails you’ve had in the past twenty minutes.

A tap on your shoulder pulls you from your thoughts. You turn slowly, preparing yourself for the conversation you know you’re about to have with her, but instead of coming face to face with just one person, you’re met with two. Nat and Javy are grinning from ear to ear, bouncing on their feet and clinging to each other.

“We’re engaged!” She squeals, throwing her left hand out towards you. You clumsily grab onto her hand, staring at the rock on her ring finger as your mind spins. You’re happy for her, completely and utterly happy for her, but your life as you knew it just last week is now crumbling down around you. Tears prick at your eyes, and you attempt to hide the sadness in your voice.

“It’s beautiful, oh my god, guys!” You push off the stool and wrap your arms around Nat’s neck. “I’m so happy for you.” You pull away with your best fake smile and teary eyes. She’s having the same reaction now. You’ve never seen her happier, which takes some of the weight off your shoulders. She’s too happy to notice the two empty glasses sitting on the counter next to you or your bleeding nail beds from days of anxious picking. She can’t tell that your hair pulled back into a claw clip is greasy because you haven’t had the energy to wash it for the past few days, or that the small locket you used to wear around your neck isn’t there anymore.

“Do you want to get a table or–”

“We can’t wait!” Nat blurts out, looking up at Javy with a grin that’s practically stretching across her whole face. “We’re flying to Vegas tonight, and Jake is already in the car. Let’s go!” She leans over and grabs your wrist, pulling you towards the doors before you can even react. Jake’s dark gray Jeep is sitting right outside the building. Nat lets go of your hand to slide in the back seat with Javy, leaving you to take your spot up front. You take a breath and open the door, avoiding eye contact as you settle into the seat and buckle up. The last time you were in his car was last Friday after a particularly wonderful dinner. You felt great after having a few glasses of wine, just tipsy enough to be talking nonstop on the way home.

“I saw that blue house on Laurel is for sale. Maybe we could go to the open house on Sunday.” You suggest, smiling softly as you turn your head to face Jake as he’s driving. Your head is leaned up against the headrest lazily. He keeps his gaze on the road ahead. It’s dark, so you can’t see much except the outline of his features.

“All the way out in Escondido?” He questions, furrowing his brow as if he doesn’t remember the beautiful home out in the suburbs that reminds you of your childhood home on Cape Cod. You couldn’t believe your eyes when you stumbled across the gorgeous house with East Coast architecture last year. You decided then that it had to be yours. The pictures on Zillow of the interior are incredible, too. Four bedrooms, a spacious kitchen, and the most luscious, tree-filled yard that you’ve ever seen in Southern California. It’s perfect.

“Yeah, you know the one that looks like the beach house.” You remind him. Jake’s been to your parents’ place a few times, but you don’t get out there often. You’ve only been to his parents’ ranch in Texas one singular time in the five years you’ve been dating. Everyone’s just so busy with their own things. His sisters have kids and his parents go on more vacations in a year than you’ve been on in your entire life. Everyone’s happy, it seems, and the two of you are satisfied with your life out here.

“We can’t buy a house, babe.” He looks over and sees your small pout. It’s cute, but he’s firm in his thoughts on the topic. “Because, okay, what…we buy a house, and then we get married, and have kids and turn into those people we never wanted to be.” His words cut a little too deep. When you first got together, sure, you thought that way. You hated what everyone turned into once they got married and had kids and other commitments. You two never wanted to be boring. You’re the couple that’s closing down the bar every Saturday night and pregaming work parties–not the kind of couple that doesn’t want to get out once they’re already at home. In fact, you’re barely at your condo as it is.

But somewhere along the way you changed your mind, and you thought that maybe he’d had done the same.

“We don’t have to turn into those people, but we’re not getting any younger, Jake, and my biological clock is unfortunately ticking.” You sigh, turning your head to look out the window instead of at him. “I know I’ve never really cared about having kids, but I don’t know…I think I want them with you.”

Jake’s silence is more than enough to tell you that he doesn’t feel the same–that he hasn’t changed his mind at all. A tear falls down your cheek as the drive back to your shared condo continues. The realization that you want different things hits you hard. You and Jake have never been ones to fight. There won’t be any screaming or arguing or blaming. It almost makes it worse–that there’s nothing worth fighting for. That maybe you aren’t worth fighting for.

You cry the whole way home and he knows. He knows it’s over. He also knows he’s not going to change his mind, and he doesn’t expect you to, either. He feels a little blindsighted by your confession, but he knows he should’ve seen it coming. You’re always on Zillow, looking at houses that have been put up for sale in the area, and every time you’re out shopping, you’ll point out how tiny and cute the baby clothes are. You’ve been changing slowly but surely over the past year since your father passed away, but Jake’s own family issues are what made up his mind about marriage and kids many years ago–before he even met you. Before he fell in love with you. Before he would’ve done anything and everything to make you happy, but he knows he can’t do this. It’s just not a promise he can make.

Two hours later, you’re standing next to Jake in a short, black dress, holding a small bouquet of tulips from the flower shop next door. He’s wearing black pants and a white shirt. His hands are tucked in his pockets as the two of you stand off to the side while Nat and Javy exchange vows. They’re both teary-eyed and giggly and you remember being that happy with Jake not that long ago.

When you first met them, they would hardly speak to each other, but over time, much like you and Jake, they became one. Nat never thought she’d ever get into anything serious, especially with a coworker, but Javy rocked her world for the better. The two of them claim they have you and Jake to thank for the night that everything changed for them. The two of you threw a Halloween party for all your friends the first year you two lived together, and you may or may not have locked them outside to “make up” after a stupid argument over the game of beer pong that was being played. Maybe it was the full moon or the tight outfit that Nat was wearing, but Javy confessed that he had feelings for her, and well, the rest is history.

They’re holding hands and staring at each other with complete and utter adoration–they haven’t looked over at you or Jake once the entire time. They’re so in love. It makes you wonder how long it’s been since Jake has felt that way towards you. The way he stands next to you now is cold, as if you’re two strangers who don’t know a thing about each other, despite having lived together up until a week ago.

When Javy and Nat kiss, you feel a genuine smile spread across your face, clapping along with the officiant, and Jake, as they pull away and make their way over to you. The chapel photographer is snapping pics like crazy and before you know it, Nat is forcing you and Jake to embrace each other for a picture. His arm snakes around your waist, resting on the top of your thigh and pulling you close. You lean in, take a deep breath, smile, and just as quickly as his arm was around you, it’s gone.

“How are you doing?” He asks casually as the two of you stand at the bar together on a joint mission to order drinks and shots while Nat and Javy grope each other in the booth. He knows you could be doing better. When he walked in the house for the first time in almost a week, it felt different. Stained wine glasses and empty bottles were sitting on the coffee table, and the fuzzy blanket you only get out of storage for the holidays was thrown across the couch haphazardly. While you were changing into your dress, he opened the fridge to find it empty. His favorite beers were really the only thing in there.

He walked into the bedroom and stared at the half-made bed curiously. It looked the exact same as it did when he was in here packing a bag of things to take to the hotel last Saturday–almost like you haven’t been sleeping in it. You stepped out of the closet in his favorite dress of yours. The one you wore for your most recent anniversary dinner. You walked past him without saying a word, and he followed you back out to the car. Your friends didn’t suspect a thing.

“We don’t have to do this.” You say, turning your attention towards him. He looks more tired than you originally thought when you saw him earlier. The bags under his eyes tell you he hasn’t been sleeping well. You haven’t been, either. “Not right now, at least.” You say softly, turning to look at your friends over in the corner. Jake follows your gaze and lets out a sigh, not that you can hear it in this rowdy bar. “You take those, I’ll wait for the shots.” You instruct, pushing the drinks over to him. He doesn’t want to argue, so he nods his head and takes them back to the table while you wait.

“We have something to tell you guys.” Javy says nervously after all the alcohol has been consumed and you’re uncomfortably leaning on Jake in an attempt to act like you’re still together. His arm is practically stuck around your shoulder–unmoving. It’s natural for the two of you to fall back into your old habits because it’s only been a week and no one even knows about the break up, but you feel uncomfortable pretending that you’re happy. You feel Jake shift his body and nod his head, urging his friend to keep going. “We’re moving to Virginia Beach.”

Jake furrows his eyebrows. Javy has been dead set on retiring in Southern California for years. Him and Nat even joked about opening up a surf shop when they’re a little older.

“I know I always said I’d die in San Diego with you, J.” He smiles down at his wife as she’s looking up to him lovingly. “But Natasha wants to be close to her parents in D.C., and we can’t both get what we want.” He doesn’t sound bitter in the slightest as he speaks. He sounds happy. “We just wanted to let you guys know before we turn in our transfer papers.”

“We’re so glad the two of you came. It’s been such a crazy night, and we don’t want to end on a downer, so…” Nat perks up, standing up from her seat and pulling you out onto the dance floor where a large group of people are dancing. You laugh and smile, hiding the fact that Javy’s words are still burned into your brain. He’s right. You and Jake both can’t get what you want, and maybe that’s the point. Maybe that’s the true testament of love–sacrifice. You feel a little lighter as you dance with your best friend, enjoying your time together while you still have it, and when it’s time to part ways in the hotel hallway, you pull Jake into yours quickly, letting the door slam behind you.

Your lips connect and it feels like the first time all over again. You’re all over each other like it’s been months–like that one time you were sent to Italy for eight weeks, and Jake couldn’t find the time to visit. These past seven days since your breakup has been the longest you’ve spent apart other than those eight weeks. Jake fumbles with his fingers trying to unzip your dress while keeping his lips attached to yours. You can feel the fire and the passion better than you have in months.

You don’t want this moment to end, but you want to get everything off your chest that you’ve been thinking of since you left the bar. It’s going to eat at you until you do, so you break away from Jake, breathing heavily as you look up to him. You can feel his hard length pressed against your leg, pinning you to the wall. He looks down at you and cocks an eyebrow, wondering if you’re now regretting what the two of you are doing.

“I don’t want this to be it–I don’t want to lose you. Javy was right, Jake. We can’t both get our way, so if you don’t want the house and the kids, that’s fine. As long as you still want me.” Your voice is hopeful, and you’re surprisingly confident in the proposition you’re suggesting. You want Jake. The guy you’ve loved for five years, and the only person you ever want to love like this at all. You’re more than willing to give everything else up for a life with him.

“Oh.” Jake moves his hand from your hip to your cheek and shakes his head. “I can’t let you do that, baby.” He says sadly. “I’d never forgive myself if I took that away from you. You deserve to have all of the things you want, and I just can’t give those to you.” Your heart breaks all over again. His soul-crushing words move through you slowly and powerfully. You’re back in the passenger seat of his car, crying on the way home from dinner. He’d rather not be with you at all. Tears prick at your eyes, but you will them to stay put.

“I just want you, Jake. You’re all I want.”

“No, I’m not.” He takes a step back and rubs his temple with his fingers. He’s trying to hold it together, he is. You’re just making it so hard. “You want the house and the kids and the marriage. You won’t be happy with me.” He’s trying to reason with you. He loves you tremendously. He has never been happier, but he knows what it’s like to grow up with parents who didn’t care whether or not they had kids. Parents who barely call, even when it’s his birthday. Parents who go on vacations instead of spending the holidays with the family they created. He worries that if you stay together and have a kid, he’s going to be that kind of parent. Distant and cold. As much as he loves you, he fears for being a failure as a spouse and a parent like it’s something that’s ingrained into his DNA. It’ll be better for everyone if he ends things now.

You don’t respond. You’re too hurt. You feel like screaming and crying and pitching an absolute fit, but you know Jake won’t respond well to that. It’ll push him further away than he already is. You’ve already lost him. The two of you stand in silence for a minute before he takes a step back, tucking part of his shirt back into his pants.

“I think I’m going to get a separate room.” And then he opens the door and leaves, letting it slam shut behind him. You slide down the wall and cry all night, thinking about how the happiest day for your best friends is always going to remind you of your worst.

#jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin x reader #Jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman fic #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman x you #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #Jake seresin imagine

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whositmcwhatsit · 18 days

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Glimmers of Dawn

AN: This is a belated birthday present for one of my favourite people @ellie-24. I have been promising her a BDE fic for months and this is the beginning of one at least? As our guy once said: "I hope you like it. It doesn't make much difference."

“This is crazy! Are you sure we’re allowed?”

Steve rolled his eyes at her like he did this every day, like it was nothing. But if it was nothing, he would not have suggested it.

_______________________________________________________

Aurora had been sliding on her denim jacket at the bar, ready to go home to Johnny Carson and the dried out meatloaf that her mother had been cooking when she had ducked home after work to change. She had already given in to Joanne’s plea to stay for another round and that had left her with nothing but a numb butt from sitting perched on the bar stool while she watched her friend flirt with the tall, shaggy-haired guy at the pool table. Now the guy was draped over Jo’s back as she giggled and lined up a shot, pretending to miscue so that he could ‘correct’ her.

Aurora gave Jo a little wave to get her attention over the heavy rock playing over the tinny speakers and then thumbed towards the door, making the phone and time gestures to let her know she would call her later.

“You’re not leaving so soon?” asked one of the other guys playing pool. He was tall too, and broad shouldered but athletic looking with it and had a mustache to go with this long brown hair.

“Yeah, it’s getting late and I got things to do in the morning,” Aurora said apologetically. “It was nice meeting you though… Steve, wasn’t it?”

“I can’t talk you into one last, teeny tiny drink?” She paused, considering. The thought of the meatloaf wasn’t exactly appetizing and it wouldn’t be the first time she showed up on a Sunday morning to take her grandmother to church on a whisper of sleep. She relented, but then the bartender reminded Steve that he had called last orders ten minutes ago and no amount of wheedling or good natured threats could change his mind.

“Forget it, man!” called the guy who was currently taking a break from inspecting Jo’s tonsils. “Let’s just go up to the house.”

“Naw, you sure? The Boss-”

“Won’t even know anything about it. He ain’t come down in three days, man, in more ways ‘n’ one.”

Aurora frowned questioningly at Joanne, who shrugged back as the two men worked it out, and suddenly they were leaving the bar.

“So, where exactly are we going?” Aurora asked, as she and Steve followed Jo and Dave, his name turned out to be, into the parking lot. She could feel Steve nervously eyeing her as they watched Dave sling his arm casually around Jo’s shoulders and stick his tongue in her ear. She had already prepared a sharp elbow in the ribs in case Steve got the same idea.

“Uh, the place where I work has a pool room and a bar.”

“You work in a bar?” She was trying to figure out why he was being so cagey. Wondering if maybe he was embarrassed, but that didn’t make sense if he was going to take her there.

“No, it ain’t… It ain’t a bar.”

Even as she was climbing past the folded seat into the back of Dave’s Datsun, Aurora was having second thoughts. The cool night air had cleared her buzzing head and chased off the last of the energy powering her limbs after a full day of work. She started preparing her speech for when they got to where they were going, so she could call a cab and head home, with or without Joanne.

‘Look, it’s nothing personal’, she would say. ‘I just had a really long day.’

And then the Datsun turned right on the highway at the gates of Graceland.

“What are you-?!” Aurora gripped the headrest of the driver’s seat in front. “Are you kidding? God, I don't have time for this.”

Fooling around and trying to break into Elvis Presley’s house was for kids and tourists. If these guys thought it was going to impress her, she would be glad to correct them.

The gates opened.

“Are you sure we’re allowed?” she asked again, staring at the lights ahead and trying not to catch the eyes of the smattering of people standing outside the gates even at this hour.

Someone was sure to realise that they were not supposed to be there and they would be stopped. She wondered if the security guards really did have guns like the stories said. All sorts of crazies probably wanted to try and hurt a huge star like Elvis; there could be FBI snipers in the trees.

“It’s okay,” Steve said finally, though his tight jaw didn’t exactly make him seem convincing.

The way that Dave shushed Joanne when she was laughing and squealing with excitement about seeing inside Elvis’ house also didn’t fill Aurora with a huge amount of confidence.

It seemed deathly quiet and still as they went in the back. Aurora thought there should have been music, maybe ‘Hound Dog’ playing on a jukebox like they were stepping into one of his movies. Her aunt Phyllis would be green with envy that she was there.

The guys crowded them in so it was hard to see exactly where ‘there’ was. Muted lighting, stairs, a lot of wood, and then a… a tent?

“So, where's Elvis?!” Joanne asked, as they took in the busy pleated material sweeping out from the ceiling and draping down the walls surrounding the pool table.

It made Aurora feel like she was trapped in her bed covers. She took in a strangled breath to reassure herself that she still could. Meanwhile, Joanne bent at the waist to check under the pool table- God, how much had she had to drink?!- as if Elvis could be lying in wait under there.

“You think he'd sing ‘Don't be Cruel’ for me? That was my favorite when I was little.”

“He's probably sick of singing it,” Aurora told her, grabbing Jo's arm and shoving her sideways onto a sofa before she broke something and the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll had them in court for millions of dollars.

Their secret out in the open, the guys seemed eager to tell them about their jobs and all the dangers and intrigue it entailed. It wasn’t all fetching and carrying, they assured the girls, there were some real bad guys out there who wanted to get a shot at Elvis and they were the reason that these bad motherfuckers had never got their shot.

“You know a head honcho of the FBI said Elvis has better protection than the President,” Dave remarked, just before he potted the cue ball and swore under his breath.

“Yeah? You ever meet the President?” Joanne asked, rolling her eyes at Aurora behind her hands.

“No… No, the Boss did, though, more than one.”

“Must’ve been when you weren’t on duty,” Joanne murmured. “Seriously, where is he, your boss? Isn’t he home? He’s gotta be home if you’re here, right?”

“He likes to relax upstairs after he gets back from a tour,” Dave mumbled, racking up the pool table. “Things can get pretty intense.”

“I bet,” Joanne giggled. “All those mamas and grannies throwing their girdles at him.”

“Jo!” Aurora elbowed her and flashed an apologetic smile at the two guys.. “Sorry, a little beer on an empty stomach goes straight to her head. Can we maybe get some water?”

The guys exchanged looks again, and Steve sighed and shrugged, glancing up at a camera with a little red light on it that Aurora hadn’t noticed before.

“Sure, no problem. Follow me.” Aurora nodded and smiled, glancing back over her shoulder to watch Dave drop down into her space beside Joanne on the sofa.

“I’m sorry about Jo. She just gets over excited, she doesn’t mean nothing by it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve replied as they climbed the stairs. “You hungry? They can make pretty much anything you want in the kitchen.”

Aurora followed him into a sleek, modern kitchen, all patterns and walnut. It was like walking around a maze. She had no idea where she had come from, nor where she was going, but she was vibrating with amazement that she had finally made it inside the house on the hill.

The next time she drove past on the way to the mall she would be able to imagine what was going on inside. She could think of about fifteen customers at the salon whose toes would curl with jealousy when she told them.

There were two ladies in the kitchen, their pale matching uniforms, the only plain, unpatterned material Aurora had seen in the house so far, were stark against their skin. Aurora could feel her cheeks burning, waiting for them to point out that she shouldn’t be there and call security, but they barely paid her any mind.

Imagine having people whose job it was to just sit in your kitchen waiting for you to want a snack at one am! Aurora did catch one of the ladies glancing at her, her face unreadable, but her thoughts not impossible to imagine. She knew she was out of place, there but for the grace of Steve in her cut off jean shorts and her thrift store spaghetti strap blouse, staring starry-eyed at the glimmering glass or maybe crystal in the glass-fronted cupboards as sizzling sounds started coming from the stove. She could feel herself getting smaller, tucking in her edges and minding her manners, making less of herself so that she would be less of a blight.

“Well, what do we have here?”

The voice was soft and unmistakable, whether it was on the radio, in movie theaters, or in a strange kitchen in the middle of the night.

Everyone immediately whipped around to look, but Aurora’s brain instead made her freeze on the kitchen stool. It told her that she couldn’t turn and face Elvis Presley with her mouth full. For some reason that seemed the ultimate violation.

So, she chewed and chewed the suddenly vulcanized bread as the seconds stretched into decades. Finally, when it had become too weird, she tried to force the ball of dough down her throat and ended up almost choking, swilling it down with a frantic gulp of water.

“Steve, son, if you’re gonna sneak pretty girls into my house at least don’t try and kill ‘em in my kitchen. It’s, uh, bad for business.”

A warm weight rested on her shoulder and squeezed as she looked up through watery eyes at Elvis Presley, up close in person. Her brain couldn’t take it all in at once, just fragments like the black hair, the sideburns, the gold aviator sunglasses, the smile… Even with her airway clear, Aurora was not exactly breathing.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” She watched the familiar pillowy lips move as the words filled her ears, not completely in sync. His hand on her shoulder, his cologne in her nose, it was a fully immersive experience and she had already been finding it hard enough to comprehend standing in his kitchen.

“Yeah, it went down the wrong way,” she heard someone say, and it kind of sounded like her.

“Well, honey, looking at that ugly mug over there was always gonna give you indigestion. Nothing personal, Steve, you just got that look-” He laughed a little to himself. “Liable to give this young lady heartburn or something, you know.”

Steve stood awkwardly on his other side like he was trying to gauge the mood, trying to figure out whether it was time for an explanation or an apology, and Aurora was trying to feel bad for him, but all she could feel was Elvis’ hand still on her shoulder, and the sleeve of his jacket brushing against her skin. There was pressure there, like he was leaning on her a little, and she tried to stay still when her pounding heart was telling her to try and run.

“What’s your name, darlin’?” He pulled off his sunglasses and stumbled back a little, pretending that the low lighting of the kitchen was blinding, rubbing his slightly puffy eyes, before they narrowed as they fixed on her. Then it was Aurora who felt like squinting, trying to take it all in.

“I’m Aurora,” she said. Then, for some reason she thought it might make things better somehow if she added, “You have a lovely home.” As if she was an invited guest coming over for iced tea on the porch. She was such an idiot.

“Well, thank you, Aurora. Aurora, is that right?”

Her name was a little unwieldy in his mouth, like he couldn’t quite get his tongue around it. Her face burst into flames as soon as she thought about his tongue.

Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice, seeing as he was turning to berate Steve a little more, pointing out that at least she had some manners, unlike some people.

Elvis had gray in his sideburns, Aurora noticed, as her muscles stiffened in the tense atmosphere and she was unable to look away. It made sense, he had been about her age when he first got famous, and that had been… a while. But it was still weird to think about Elvis going gray. She couldn’t picture him as an old man. In fact, the idea made her a little sad. But then the alternative would be worse.

“Child,” he intoned suddenly, interrupting whatever he had been saying to put Steve in his place, and turning back to her with a twinkle in his eye, “you have gotta lower the beams on those pretty eyes of yours, they are practically melting my face off!”

And that, more than the gray roots and the stumbling over her name, helped Aurora’s perspective click back into focus. The fancy furniture and the maids and the cooks and the Elvis-ness of him had turned her head for a while, made her feel off kilter, but she knew this dance very well..

“Well, it’s not like I can help it when you’re standing so close to me!” she retorted playfully. “You’re not made of glass you know!”

The crooked smile crept across his face like the tide coming in and she felt herself slipping beneath the waves, drowning.

“You got some nerve, honey, I’ll give you that,” he said, shaking his head. “How ‘bout you finish eating my food and I’ll give you a real tour of this old place?”

“Look, if it means so much to you, you can have the rest of the sandwich,” she said, her careful, watchful eyes belying her teasing, irreverent tone. She knew she was in dangerous territory, her mama would have hissed a warning and cuffed her across the back of the head for being so rude, but the light that glittered in his heavy lidded eyes when she gave him some sass was too enticing to ignore. She didn’t think that too many people dared to tease Elvis Presley and that made her feel a little bad for him.

In response, he gently ‘snatched’ the glass of water she was clutching and turned it until his luscious lips were in the same place hers had been, taking a sip. She somehow froze while also melting at the same time at the glittering challenge in his gaze and the faint twitch of his eyebrow. In that moment, she realized that she had vastly miscalculated how evenly matched they were in this battle.

Luckily, she was rescued by Joanne, who had found her way upstairs and came reeling slightly into the kitchen, clutching Aurora’s jacket, and mumbling that she wanted to go home. She got as far as knocking into Aurora’s back before- and Aurora was never going to let her forget it- she shrieked:

“Oh Elvis! Oh shit!”

Without context, it would have been impossible to tell whether she had caught sight of Elvis or a mouse running across the floor. What made it funnier was the complete non-reaction of Elvis himself, and the way that he locked eyes with Aurora for a long second, as if to say, ‘See what I have to deal with?’

Then he was introducing himself to Joanne, shaking her limp hand and saying he was pleased to meet her like it was all prearranged and they hadn’t effectively broken into his house in the middle of the night.

Oh Elvis, oh shit, Aurora’s brain said helpfully, Elvis Presley is a nice guy.

Sitting in his kitchen, trying to hold a loud, flailing Joanne with one arm and not failing to notice how uncomfortable Dave and Steve looked, Aurora began to feel grimy. It was one thing to take a peek at how the other half live, to get a glimpse of a rarefied existence, but it was another thing to barge in, do questionable things on the couch and make yourself a sandwich. The goldilocks giddiness had soured into shame.

“So, um,” she began as she stepped backwards over her stool like the world’s clumsiest cowgirl, “we’re really sorry for trespassing…” She still couldn’t bring herself to say his name out loud. “And we should probably get going.”

“Well now, wait a damn minute, honey, I promised you a tour, and by God, that’s what you’re gonna get!” This time, she didn’t giggle on cue.

Aurora wasn’t clever, but she was smart. She might not have read fancy long books, but she knew people and she knew men, best of all. Her mama made sure of that, because she didn’t want her to end up the same way, fooled by some good looking lying man who looked good in a fancy borrowed suit.

It occurred to her, as she watched Dave and Steve share yet another long look, that this could all be some elaborate trick. It wasn’t like she and Joanne had asked the guys to bring them to Graceland, hadn’t twisted their arms, hadn’t even known they worked there before they brought it up. And the two guys had barely debated it before they were all suddenly getting into the cars.

What if it was a set-up? What if Dave and Steve did this regularly, went out trolling for girls to bring back for their boss? What if she had walked into some weird situation straight out of the Hollywood gossip magazines?

“I have to get home,” she said, fumbling for excuses, “I gotta get up early to take my grandma to church and I have a couple of clients after that.”

“Clients?” She didn’t understand his strange tone, but she simmered under his appraising eye, and instinctively held her jacket in front of her like it could transform into a pair of baggy pants.

“She’s a hairdresser, she cuts hair,” Steve said sulkily, defensively.

It felt like there were twelve different conversations going on in fifty different languages and it was too late and Aurora was too tired to deal with it all. It had been a fun adventure, but now it was time to go home.

“Well, you know, I've been needing a haircut myself,” Elvis remarked with a strange, sly grin on his face, looking at Steve, who was irritably shuffling his feet against the carpet. “What do you say, honey?”

“Your hair looks fine,” she replied, before turning to Steve and raising her eyebrows in a silent plea.

“No, really, if it gets any longer I’ll start looking like one of those weirdo freaks this one listens to,” Elvis joked, nodding towards Dave with his Led Zeppelin t-shirt stretched tight across his chest. “Nice guys, but complete weirdos, man.”

Aurora was pretty sure that nobody was about to get Elvis Presley and the guys from Led Zeppelin mixed up, but saying so would have taken her over that line from light teasing to downright unkindness that she would never cross.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t got my kit with me and I’m so tired, I don’t think I should be trusted with scissors.”

“I’ll go start the car,” Steve said, turning towards the kitchen door.

“No! Now, hold up, man, nobody’s going nowhere ‘til I say so. S’cuse me for a minute, ladies, I think I need to have a word here with these so-called employees of mine.” Elvis’ tone was aggravated, like he was working hard to keep it even, behaving for company.

Joanne and Aurora looked at one another, shrugged, and stepped past the door that led down to the basement and found themselves in the red carpeted foyer, looking towards the front door. They listened carefully, but could only hear murmuring from back in the kitchen.

Joanne squeezed her arm and pulled a triumphant face, hissing, “Fucking Elvis, man!”

“Shh, they might hear you.” Aurora occupied herself with staring up at the chandelier, watching the way the light was reflected back on the glass walls. She couldn’t imagine living in a house that had a chandelier. She wondered if Elvis ever marveled on it since he had grown up just as poor as her, maybe even more so.

“You think he thought we were call girls?” Joanne asked, moving to lean against the staircase and resting her head on the banisters. She yawned wide enough to show the fillings

in her back teeth. “When you said ‘clients’ they all got this weird look. Maybe he wants you to cut his hair to test your story.”

“I ain’t cutting anyone’s hair, I’m dead on my feet,” Aurora grumbled.

“Not even if he offers you a thousand dollars?”

“Well, maybe for a thousand dollars.” She sleepily contemplated what she would spend a thousand dollars on. She wondered how much a chandelier cost.

“Hell, for a thousand dollars I’d pretend to be the call girl!” They both snorted and giggled, before sighing into the still peace of the foyer.

“He looks a little different from the movies though,” Joanne observed. “He’s got… heavier.”

“Yeah,” Aurora conceded with a shrug. “Still Elvis though.” She giggled. “‘Oh Elvis! Oh Shit!’”

“Shut up!” Joanne groaned, donking her head against one of the banisters. “I bet you didn’t come out with anything deep or profound when you saw him.”

Aurora’s throat was still a little sore from where she had forced a fistful of bread through it while choking, but she kept that to herself.

Finally, Dave shuffled out to let them know they could return from exile and led them back into an empty kitchen. When he spoke, he sounded annoyed and Aurora wondered if he had got a ticking off from Elvis too. Maybe it hadn’t been a set up after all.

“C’mon.” He nodded towards a set of the stairs that curled up round a wall in the corner of the room.

“Where?” she countered.

“Look, just cut his fucking hair a little, all right? Pretend if you have to, we’ll be heading out on tour soon and he’ll have his hairdresser do it properly then anyway.”

Aurora looked at the staircase and thought about getting back into the Datsun and going home. She thought about telling the ladies at the salon about her weekend, the way they would say, ‘And what happened then?!’ And she would have to finish her surreal recount with, ‘Then I chickened out and went home.’

That would be a lame ending to the story.

And so she found herself leaning in front of Elvis Presley, examining his wet bangs as she ran them through the comb, scissors clutched in hand, standing in the most outrageously opulent bathroom she had ever seen.

“You shouldn’t wrinkle your forehead like that, you know, honey,” he observed, his breath tickling the column of her throat. “You’ll look old before your time.”

Her frown shifted from one of concentration to intense control, trying to stop herself from shivering because it felt like he was murmuring into her ear.

“My face does what it wants,” she replied finally, snipping the tiniest fragment of an inch. “I don’t have too much of a say in it. Keeps me honest, otherwise who knows what I’d be doing instead of cutting hair day and, apparently night now too.”

They had negotiated down to just trimming the bangs, and now that she was confronted with his mass of fine hair, she was grateful. Everyone knew that half the teen population back in the day had flipped their lids when they cut off Elvis’ hair in the army. Aurora didn’t want to become the target of those same women today, stronger, smarter, and old enough to own handguns.

“What would you be instead, if you could choose?” She made the mistake of looking at his face when he asked. It was a trap. Framed by dark, weary shadows, the murky blue of his eyes had all but swallowed up the pupil and it felt like they were looking at something within her, somewhere she didn’t even want to let people know existed.

“I don’t know. If you ask my memaw, there are only a few careers a girl can have with a name like mine. I picked the most respectable. There we go, all done.”

“What kind of name is Aurora anyway?” Searching, his damn eyes were searching and she couldn’t seem to distract him.

“I don’t exactly think we should be making fun of people’s names, Elvis. Especially not when some of us are holding scissors.” He snorted and laughed to himself. It sounded so young and silly that she knew it was real.

“Aurora means dawn or light. You know the Northern Lights? Those squiggly colorful lights up in the North Pole? Their real name is Aurora Borealis. And you know, Sleeping Beauty’s name was Aurora.”

It was the well worn explanation she had been trotting out since she was knee high to a cricket, not that it ever made any difference to the bemused, baffled or disdainful faces of the gangs of kids or customers at her father’s store that demanded she explain herself.

She caught sight of Elvis’ reflection studying her, but not in the way that he had been before, the way that men often studied her, appraising and pricing her up like her daddy did with cans of soup. No, this was a different kind of look.

“Dawn,” he murmured, his gaze seeming to look past her. “Sleeping…Beauty… Might be something to this…” His eyes seemed to click back into focus and he smiled at her, that crooked smirk that everyone in the world imagined in their head when someone said the name Elvis Presley. “It’s pretty, sweetheart, I was just kiddin’.”

When she followed him out of the bathroom, he mumbled, “Think fast!” And before she could even decipher his words, she was catching the tiger statue he had tossed at her. It was heavy enough it could have probably cracked her skull if she hadn’t caught it.

“Whoa, was the haircut that bad that you had to try and kill me?!”

“No, honey, it was fine, but it’s like you, you see.” She could tell something corny was coming from the silly little grin and the way he paused to laugh at himself. “It’s a roarer.” She groaned, but giggled as he laughed, his brows knitted together in a pained acknowledgement of how corny he had been.

“Woo, well, it’s lucky you’re pretty,” Aurora replied, doing what she thought was a damn fine impression of her grandma, who always said it like it was.

When Elvis snorted a little, but didn’t say anything else, she wondered if she had caught him off guard and made him a little bashful. She made a show of giving the ceramic tiger a scritch under the chin like it was a pussy cat and then went to hand it back.

“No, no,” he replied, waving his hand. “It’s yours, honey, you caught it. Them’s the rules.”

“Well, thank you… You know, it puts a whole new perspective on those folks you gave cars to. They probably belong in a circus.” He didn’t reply, just sat down on his bed and shuffled back against the pillows, picking up one of the books that lay strewn across the comforter.

Not knowing quite what she was supposed to do, she petted the tiger under her arm and started edging towards the door. If she couldn’t make a glamorous exit, she could at least minimize the awkwardness of it.

“Hey, you know…” Her eyes fixed on him as she did her little side shuffle, she saw him glance up from his book and his expression go from open to frowning. “Where you goin’?”

I thought we were… I thought you were waiting for me to leave.” He shook his head, looking slightly irritated, and then patted the bed heavily by his legs.

Aurora thought of Steve waiting downstairs and then shrugged, walking over to the bed. You didn’t ignore an Elvis for a Steve. She perched on the edge of his bed and watched as he rooted around on his nightstand, sliding on a pair of gold framed glasses and shooting her a sheepish look.

“The lightning of the Word will illumine the abysses.

New, new, new ones, beautiful ones, sensitive ones,

Exalted ones, will be assembled.

The Teacher has entrusted thee to manifest Him.” He read it like poetry or scripture and it sounded dramatic and lovely to Aurora’s ears, but then he stopped and he looked at her like she was supposed to do or say something. It was like standing at the front of the class on book report day with nothing in her hands. Her face burned all the way back to her ears.

“You ever heard anything like that before, honey?” he asked finally, his eyes back to scanning the text, leaving her to writhe in her ignorance and humiliation.

“No, I don’t think so.” She looked longingly at the black padded door standing open and then down at her tanned toes, half submerged in the thick red shag pile carpet as if her sandals weren’t even there. “I was never too good in school.”

“School,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You don’t learn nothing worth knowing in school. I mean no disrespect to the teachers, but-” He sighed loudly. “You know most people use but one percent of their brains, one percent! Just focussing on the Mickey Mouse shit, uh, workin’ and paying the bills and having a good time, coveting their fuckin’ neighbor’s whatever… Never knowing what’s really important.”

Aurora stared at him as he continued his diatribe, a little impressed at how he weaved in foulmouthed quotes from the Bible. Nobody was going to believe this was how she spent her Saturday night.

“I’ve been studying all this a long time, it takes discipline and dedication. Honey, why don’t you come on up here and get comfortable?” He gestured to the space beside him on the pillows, the space usually occupied by glamorous models and beauty queens, one of whom was beaming with fierce intensity at her from a framed picture on the dark wood unit against the wall.

“Um, can I bring Muffin?” He lifted an eyebrow and she tilted the tiger she still had tucked into her hip. “I named him Muffin.”

“Well, I was talking to Muffin anyhow, but I guess he can bring you.” He shook his head, his cheekbones brimming as he smirked and watched her shuck her sandals and clamber up gracelessly from the bottom of the bed. “You’re kinda silly.” He leant forward and gave her a lightning fast kiss on the lips, just warm and wet and gone. “I like that.”

And then he read to her, for over an hour. Sleepily leaning against the pillow, Aurora slid her finger underneath the stretchy strap of her watch as it was pressing into her skin. Her eyes caught sight of the time and she pushed herself up, feeling a little dazed and dizzy.

Having sunk back into his pillows too, Elvis was still reading, his voice barely above a whisper and he didn’t seem to notice her sitting up. Tentatively, she reached out and touched his arm and then said his name. It took him a beat or two to register the interruption.

“It’s getting really late,” she said apologetically. “I think I should go find Steve, he’s my ride home.”

“Aw, honey, he went, he’s gone.”

Aurora smiled anxiously, not sure if he was joking. “He better not be. It’s a long walk back to my house.”

“I’ll have someone take you home, don’t worry about that,” he murmured, his words slipping and sliding together.

“Well, It’s getting pretty late,” she said again.

He lowered his book and went to say something, but seemingly changed his mind. Instead, he reached over with a grunt and picked up the phone, gruffly asking who was on duty. Aurora busied herself with slipping back into her shoes and hefting Muffin back onto her hip.

Elvis put down the receiver of the red phone and climbed off the bed.

“I’d like to see you again, if that’s okay with you?” The way he said it was oddly formal and solemn, a complete contrast to the way he had teasingly beckoned her onto his bed earlier. It threw her enough that she forgot to be overwhelmed.

“Sure!” She cringed inwardly at how high pitched her voice sounded and tried to clear her throat discreetly.

“Let me take down your number and I'll call you.”

Elvis rifled through the contents of his nightstand and snatched up a pen and then, with a shrug, opened the front cover of his book.

It was about then that Aurora's brain caught up with the situation and her hand shook as she reached for the pen and scrawled ‘Aurora + Muffin’ alongside her number on the inside cover of his book. When she handed it back, he teased her by turning the book upside as he squinted at it.

“What is this, hieroglyphics?!”

And Aurora laughed goodnaturedly, even though she had been teased her whole time at school for her poor penmanship and inability to improve it. She laughed even though, as a rule, she never let anyone get away with making fun of the things she couldn’t change. Something about him defused all those defenses designed to detonate on a hair trigger.

Aurora felt Elvis follow her to the bedroom door without seeing him. It was a weird feeling, like wearing a heavy cape made of ice. She was almost afraid to check in case it all evaporated like a dream and she woke up in her pilling pink blankets and worn rosebud sheets.

The heavy, warm hand that came to rest on her shoulder was a surprise and a reassurance then, as she felt him turn her. She took a step back, since he was that much taller and they were standing so close together that she was face to face with the dip at the base of his throat, able with microscopic clarity to see the way his golden chest hair curled behind the thick gold chain he was wearing with the strange symbol that looked to her eyes like a musical note with extra parts.

“Um, sorry,” she murmured, looking away, even though he had been the one to crowd her. He smiled softly, angling his head and pressing his soft full lips against hers. She jolted, almost choking again, and saved herself by grabbing hold of him, clutching at his waist, thick but firm, with her free hand and pressing in against him. His lips were soft and lush, like no other man’s she had kissed before. They tickled and teased, and sent shivers that spread down her spine and radiated through her body.

When his tongue first brushed and then slid against hers, she let out a little whine that had him huffing a laugh and drawing back, his hand cradling her jaw.

“You sure you gotta go, baby?” he asked softly in that low, intimate voice that made her legs quiver. “We could just sleep, you know. I wouldn’t- I wouldn’t try anything.”

“I trust you,” she replied, though she wasn’t sure she did. “It’s me I don’t trust.” Which was one hundred percent true.

He pulled her in again by her chin, but she still wasn’t ready as they both exhaled in playful frustration. She nibbled on his ripe bottom lip even as she was pulling away.

Aurora made it to the outer door that led to the stairs before he called her back.

“Hey Tiger!” She let her shoulders and face slump with indignation as she realized she had answered to the silly name. “We’re going to see each other again, sweetheart.” She smiled at the previously unimaginable picture she was walking away from- Elvis Presley framed by the light in a doorway, his hair rumpled and tousled (her fault) and his mouth wet and swollen (even more her fault). “Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find.”

“Sure.” Frowning a little through her smile, she nodded and turned back to the stairs. Was he talking about himself or was he talking about her? Maybe he was talking about Muffin. She hefted the tiger a little higher under her arm and clumped down the stairs, blearily opening the front door to greet the dawn.

@thatbanditqueen, @vintageshanny, @be-my-ally @lookingforrainbows, @from-memphis-with-love, @peskybedtime

#elvis presley #big daddy elvis #elvis x oc #elvis fanfic #elvis fanfiction #70s elvis #whositmcwhatsit #elvis presley fanfiction

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bettysupremacy · 7 months

Note

Yuh it’s me your bff. Ok how abt the deer emoji. Bc yk James fr be a dear 🦌 LMAO. Ok so I’m deadass convinced James is like the cockiest mf on the planet and whenever reader tries to make him all flustered with compliments IT DIESNT WORK and he just flirts back like an asshole. We love him tho 😋. Anyways if you’d make a fic on that I’d fr sell my soul 🥰 LOVE U

OMG HI BFF🦌 and also you’re right. James is the cockiest boy ever.. but he’s also the sweetest. And I miss him. Physically. sorry this took me so long </3

“Come here often?” Your tippy toes ache from the way you stand on them. His face is so close, you can practically feel his smile. The sight is definitely a show to the other people of this club.

He snorts, bending down to kiss your lips.

“Come here often?” He reuses your line, pawing at your hip absentmindedly.

You laugh, startled at his lack of reaction. “Stop.”

He grins. “You got a number I can call?”

“Ew,” your numb face twists, presenting James with a pretty smile. “That was bad.”

“Was it?”

“Pretty bad.”

The line moves, the people in front of you walking forward three steps, before pausing again. The girls in front of you drop to sit on the cold concrete. The air is cold, and the concrete is colder. You feel bad for their uncovered legs.

“We’re never getting in.” She moans to her friend in front of her in a pretty blue dress. The sullen girls pick at their tights.

You look up at James curious as he gives you a small shake of his head. You’ll get in.

“It’s cold.” He frowns. “Are you cold?”

“I’m cold.” You agree. “You want a drink?” Your eyes peer up to his. “I’ll buy you a drink inside.”

Your flirting doesn’t budge him. “I’ll buy you a drink, sweet pea.”

Mary giggles behind the both of you.

“What’s it, Macdonald?” James turns, resting his chin on your head. You stare ahead, grinning.

“Sweet pea.”

He just smiles, turning back to bend and murmur into your ear. His proximity flusters you, and he has to chase your ear when his breath tickles you. It’s warm, tingling the skin in contact. “Someone’s got a case of the giggles.”

You nod, face faux serious. “She’s always got a case of the giggles.”

“I heard that!”

Lily grabs her, pressing a long kiss to her cheek. “She’s right.”

A warm hand grabs your arm, squeezing it tight twice before you realize the line is moving. Tripping over your feet, you let the hand guide you. “Oh,” you murmur. “sorry.”

“Right this way then.” James smiles.

You stare up at him. He’s the sunshine to your cold, the warmth to your achy fingers, and when you see him in this jacket it makes it hard to remember the way your shoes pinch your feet.

“This jacket is criminal on you, Jamie.”

“Yeah? How?”

“It murders me every time I see you in it.” You fake stab yourself in the stomach, twisting your fist and pretending to fall over. He catches you easily, holding you in his arms with a heavy smile.

“Time of death 9:34pm.” Sirius chimes in, though it falls to deaf ears.

James lifts you, still smiling as you push hair from your face.

“You look so pretty tonight.”

“Stop.” You blow.

“I’m serious!” James gasps, hands dropping down to the meat of your hips. Deftly, he turns you to face his friends. “Doesn’t she look pretty tonight?”

“Stunning.” Sirius nods.

“Very pretty.” Mary giggles.

“James.” You whisper, embarrassed. He doesn’t fret, grabbing your cold cheeks in his even colder hands.

“Yes, my darling?”

“Let me flirt with you.”

He pauses, standing in his place, your raw whisper startles him. “I can’t.” He murmurs slowly, letting you pull him closer to the moving line.

“Why not?”

“Cause you make me nervous.”

You laugh, pushing his chest. “Stupid.”

“For real!” He laughs back breathlessly. You see it in the cold air around you. “You make me so nervous.”

“When I like your jacket?” Your head tilts. “When I ask to buy you a drink?”

“When you look at me.”

You laugh. “You’re being silly.”

“I’m being honest.” He shrugs, grabbing your hand. Analyzing your face, he scoffs, looking away with a smile on his face, shaking his head in disappointment. “Have I ever told you you’re the prettiest girl in the entire world?”

“Enough!” Sirius yells pathetically.

#james potter fanfic #james x you #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter comfort #james potter fanfiction #james potter imagine #james potter x you #james potter fluff #james potter fic #james potter blurb #james potter #james x reader #marauders fanfic #marauders fluff #marauders fanfiction

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claymorexpunisher · 11 months

Text

First Kiss (Ch.1/2) (18+ Fic)

Pairing(s): Rhea Ripley/Fem. Reader

Summary: Rhea and Reader are an on-screen couple. So of course, Reader "jokingly" offers to “practice" their kissing for if the necessity arises.

Tags/TWs: first kiss, flirting, onscreen relationship turns very real.

Word Count: 1,061

As Hunter spoke, I tuned in and out of the conversation. My brain went numb at the words ‘Rhea’ and ‘on-screen couple.’ I couldn’t quite believe my ears. I didn’t know if I wanted to jump for joy at the prospect of working that close to Rhea or beg the ground to swallow me as she sat next to me, not saying a single word for what felt like hours.

She’s hot. Okay? Easily one of the sexiest human beings on planet earth and yes, I wasn’t necessarily mad at the idea of going to war with Dom for her -pretend- affections. But it seemed like her brain had melted as much as mine over Hunter’s blindsiding suggestion.

We didn’t dislike each other but we weren’t exactly close. We shared a locker room just like everyone else, were cordial, stayed out of each other’s way, and that was that. Up til this point, we hadn’t even had a match against or with each other.

Rhea took a few more seconds to seemingly mull the idea over in her head before I watched her nod through my peripheral vision. My heartbeat quickened at the sight. I fully expected her to say flat out ‘hell no’, thinking that she was more than content with how her storyline with Dom has been going thus far. But… clearly, I had been mistaken.

“I think it’s a great idea. It’ll spice things up a bit.” She smirked. My breath caught in my throat as I was brought back down to earth by Rhea’s lingering touch on my arm, shaking me lightly.

“I guess we’re girlfriends now, babe!” Rhea joked and laughed. I returned it a little shakily and I nodded before Hunter spoke up again.

“Figured it was time to do something with you two and see where it goes. I think it could be something really awesome. And it could be something that the non-straight fans will enjoy as well.” Hunter said, looking between us both with his hands clasped in front of him at his desk.

“I… I think so too, actually.” I finally spoke up. Of course, I knew Hunter looked at it from a business standpoint more than anything else, but the sentiment and the opportunity to reach a fanbase that was so important to me was still touching, nonetheless.

As we were walking back toward the women’s locker room, Rhea and I started to get to know each other a bit. We talked about the things that we enjoyed, what we wanted to get out of this storyline, our families. Random shit. I couldn’t help but notice that our steps had slowed down the more we spoke. It seemed as if this new proposition that was brought up to us by Hunter had opened up an opportunity for us to finally get to know one another and to realize that we in fact had a lot more in common than we thought.

And honestly? Unless I was reading things completely wrong, Rhea was absolutely flirting with me. Whether it was just her nature, I didn’t really know. But I felt like there was definitely something there. At least we were warming up to each other, which was important if we were going to be working closer with one another.

We walked practically shoulder to shoulder and our banter gave me the courage to wrap my arm around Rhea’s waist and look up at her through my lashes.

“Soo… now that we’re gonna be playing girlfriends, we gotta make sure our kissing skills are top notch. We don’t wanna go out there and make everyone think we hate each other or something,” I laughed. But I was only half joking, truth be told.

Rhea looked down at me for a moment, both her brows raised up to her hairline before she let out a surprised laugh.

“Ballsy… I like that. We could practice now if you like.” She smirked, her voice lowering ever so slightly. I almost swallowed my tongue at the sound of it.

Oh shit, I thought. Wait. Is she- was she serious?!

“I mean I… I was totally joking; we don’t have t- I mean we don’t have to kiss.” I stuttered out, looking at anything but Rhea. “You and Dom don’t kiss. Do you? And it’s just pretty much established that you two are dat-” My words got cut off as Rhea lightly held my cheeks and she slowly backed us into a secluded hallway, away from prying eyes. The steel of the silver rings on her fingers felt cool on my warm skin and I let out a shaky breath as Rhea’s eyes bore into mine.

“Were you, sweetheart? Were you joking?” Rhea asked and her words almost sounded like a challenge. Daring me to lie to her when she so easily already knew the truth.

So, seeing this window of opportunity for what it was, I rested my hands lightly around her waist, bringing her closer.

“No,” I replied, my tone breathy with bubbling need. If Rhea didn’t kiss me in about two seconds, I swore I’d di-

Her lips felt soft on mine. We both sighed softly through our noses, swallowing hums of pleasure as our tongues slowly met in a light dance. My fingers moved up and ran up and down her wrists, over her hands and they worked their way back down toward her waist, gripping the hem tightly as our mouths continued their exploration.

Now, this was by no means my first kiss. But it was my first kiss with Rhea…

And you know how some people describe their first kiss with someone as this Disney World fireworks display type of moment, where sparks just fly uncontrollably and it’s like there’s no other place they’d rather be?

Yeah… yeah that was definitely happening now. And clearly Rhea felt the same.

“… We should practice some more.” She whispered, her eyes never leaving mine as we let what just happened sink in.

“Yeah.” I nodded, harsh pants making my chest rise and fall rapidly. “Just practice.”

And so, we did.

Whether Rhea and I stayed in our little corner of the arena, memorizing the taste of each other’s mouths for 5 more minutes- or twenty, or if we made our “practice” sessions an almost daily affair… that was nobody’s business but ours.

Next Chapter

#rhea ripley #rhea ripley fic #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley x female reader #rhea ripley x fem. reader #rhea ripley fluff #wwe fluff #wwe fic #wrestling fic

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britany1997 · 1 year

Note

Poly!Lost Boys! x Depressed!Fem!Reader? The reader is in a funky funky, and the boys work their charms to give her all the love and encouragement she needs to thrive and overcome the bullshit?

The Sun Rises

Of course I can write this for you! Sorry it took so long I did quite a bit of research for this, I wanted to do this prompt justice❤️

Warnings: Major Depressive Disorder

Poly! Lost Boys x Fem! Reader

NOTE: My research for this was on female depression and how it manifests itself, but I realized on my second read through that I had only used one gendered term, so I took it out. So this can be read GN.

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

You sat staring at the unfinished painting on your desk. Willing yourself to just bring your brush down to it, to feel inspired, to feel anything other than numb. But instead of adding to your creation, you sighed and brought your brush to the sink. You watched as the colors stained the water red and ran down the sink, until nothing was left on the brush but the taupe of the pokey bristles.

Lately you’d been feeling like the brush, like all the color had been drained out of you. This feeling wasn’t foreign. Sometimes you felt stagnant, like a non playable character in the game that was your life, letting moments pass you by. Being there but not being a part of them, at least not how you wanted to be.

It had been four days since you’d managed to make it down to the boardwalk. It made you feel guilty, but you just couldn’t make yourself go. You felt trapped. Your prison not a physical place but a cage inside your mind, one where your means of escape was not visible. When you got like this, it was hard to believe there was an escape.

You crossed your arms and ran your hands up and down them, trying to comfort yourself. Fatigue washed over you as your body moved towards your bed. You should change out of your jeans into pajamas, you should shower before bed, you should brush your teeth, but almost against your will, your eyes closed instead.

Before you could drift off, you heard a soft tapping at your window. You cringed. There were only four (almost) people that could be tapping on the window of your fifth floor apartment. You contemplated just staying in bed, pretending you weren’t there, but you figured you owed them an explanation as to why you’d missed out on so many date nights. (Also you were pretty sure they could smell you, damn heightened vampire senses).

You sighed as you opened the window and Paul fell through. “Hey sugar!” He greeted you smiling. If he was frustrated by your behavior these past few days, he certainly wasn’t showing it.

“Hi,” you said dryly.

His smile faltered.

Marko stumbled through the window after him, “damn babe,” he grumbled, “we need to get you a bigger window, I don’t know how Dwayne thinks he’s gettin’ through here.”

“You’re all here?” You asked the two blonds.

“No,” David said shimming through the window, “we just sent these two idiots to check on the love of our life after you’ve been gone all week.”

“I seem to remember a certain idiot fixing your bike yesterday,” Paul shot with his eyebrows raised.

David rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to retort.

“Don’t,” Dwayne said, sliding through the window, “you’re all getting distracted. We didn’t come here to put on a shit show.”

Paul and David both breathed out and turned to you. As you looked around your room, it seemed all eyes were on you. Their gaze made you feel smaller than you had already. “What?” You asked timidly, hugging yourself.

“Where’ve you been?” David asked pointedly

Paul turned to him and glared, “we’re not here to accuse you,” Paul told you while accosting David, “we just want to know what’s wrong. Did we do something? Tell us babe so we can make it better.” He reached for you but you recoiled a bit, unsure of how to verbalize how you felt.

Paul’s face fell, “please,” he begged, “I’ll do anything for you, tell me and I’ll fix it.”

The other boys watched you as you fidgeted from foot to foot, your gaze trained on the floor, “We just wanna help baby,” Dwayne spoke.

You sighed, “it’s nothing you did,” you said looking up from the ground and at them, “it’s me, it’s how I feel, that’s the problem.” You desperately tried to stop your tears but they fell anyway. You wiped them away as quickly as they appeared, “I didn’t want you to see me like this, I didn’t want to be a burden, I’m sorry.”

Dwayne’s brow furrowed and he stepped forward to cradle you in his arms, you grabbed at his jacket and buried your face into his chest as you cried. “Never, ever apologize for that.” He spoke after you had calmed down a bit, “You are not a burden. You could never be a burden, not to us, not to anyone.”

You gasped and looked up into his eyes, they stared at you soulfully. “Do you think we only wanted the shallow parts of you? Do you think we’re only with you for the fun times? For the sex?” He asked, disbelief in his tone. “We love you for all of you. Every part of you, even the parts you don’t like, we love those too.” Tears pricked at your eyes once more.

He cupped your face with his hands, speaking slowly and intentionally, “you never need to hide any part of yourself from us, even the hard parts, we want you to share them with us.” Your eyes searched his face for any sign he was joking or putting you on, but you found none.

“If you find yourself under a dark cloud, we’ll gladly stand with you in the rain, even if it means getting drenched.” You smiled up at him with watery eyes.

You were pulled from his embrace into Marko’s, “I know what it’s like to feel like your emotions are ‘too much’ for people,” he told you, “sometimes I get so angry I feel like I can’t control it, like it just comes bubbling out of me.” Your brow furrowed as you stared into his eyes.

“But do you love me any less because of how I feel? Because of who I am sometimes?” He asked.“No.” you replied immediately, “I don’t love you any less.”

He smiled, “that’s right.” He said, “and we wouldn’t love you any less for the way that you feel, for the way that you are.” He assured you. “Dwayne was right, we want every part of you, we love all of you.”

You sighed, “you can’t fix it you know?” You asked them, “it’s not something you fix. Sometimes I feel this way, and it’s never gonna go away, not fully. I take medication sometimes and that helps, but I am going to feel like this sometimes.”

David pushed through the other boys and pulled you against his chest, “you don’t need to be fixed,” he told you, “but you do need to be loved, and that’s what we’re here for. It’s what we’ve always been here for.” He whispered in your ear.

“Thank you,” you said to all of them, shooting them a half smile.

“No need to thank us baby,” Paul said, shifting you from David’s arms into his own, rocking you back and forth gently as you nuzzled into his shoulder, “thanks for letting us in.”

“To your heart AND to your apartment,” Marko said. You laughed at his stupid joke, as David smacked him on the back of the head.

“Can you all…stay here tonight?” You asked them.

“Of course sugar,” Paul answered for all the boys, “we’ll stay as long as you need.”

He sat down on the bed and pulled you onto his lap. Dwayne headed to the kitchen to make you a cup of your favorite tea. David got to work putting up your black out curtains over each window, so they could stay as long as you needed them to. Marko riffled through your drawers, looking for a comfy pair of pajamas you could wear.

As you watched them shuffle through your things from Paul’s arms, you felt warmth spread through you. You felt less like the brush at the bottom of your sink, and more like yourself. You looked up at Paul as he cuddled you, he smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. They made it easy to believe that they truly did love every part of you.

You smiled a bit as you stroked Paul’s arm, resting in the truth that there was nothing you could do to turn them away. Not now, not ever.

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

Taglist❤️:

@misslavenderlady @6lostgirl6 @ghoulgeousimmaculate @pixielostboy @solobagginses @anna1306 @whataminute-whowantstoknow

#the lost boys #paul lost boys #marko lost boys #dwayne lost boys #david lost boys #tlb #tlb 1987 #the lost boys 1987 #david tlb #marko tlb #paul tlb #dwayne tlb #fem reader #poly lost boys x reader #poly lost boys #poly lost boys x fem reader #b97fic

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omgwhatchloe · 5 months

Text

lets talk about sean macguire, or more specifically, his none-existent recovery and how it affected him before his death.

so as we all know, sean is captured by bounty hunters after the blackwater ship robbery goes horribly wrong. it’s confirmed in a side mission that he was tortured for information, most likely because ike skelding and his crew wanted to be the ones to bring dutch in as well, but he specifically mentions how they burnt his feet and pulled his teeth.

lets start with the affect of them pulling his teeth: it doesn’t take a genius to know ike skeldings bounty hunters are not fully trained dentists with numbing cream and injects, nor did they actually care about any of the long-lasting damage they were doing to sean, since they assumed he’d be getting hung and wanted to have their fun with him. that was the whole point, to torture him because any teeth related pain, i think we can all agree, is the worst of the worst. afterwards, he is seen struggling to eat, i think at least multiple people online have said they have noticed how he will only have one or two bites, or even none at all, and pour away the mostly full stew. i haven’t bothered to focus on anyone else’s eating habits, if im being honest, but i think i really picked up on seans because of the fact hes trying to eat with missing and likely damaged teeth. as we know, no one in camp really bothers to ask him if he’s okay or pick up on this, but this is not surprising as after all they are just codes and scripts and no voice actor has the time to record their characters entire life.

next, the feet burning: the fact they burnt his feet implies to me and gives me the idea that he was hanging from his arms at some point in his time of being captured and they had pretty clear access to his feet (ew). in camp, i did actually notice him walking funny like he was drunk, then having completely sober dialogue while limping along. though of course this game is not without its faults and glitches, and dialogue getting messed up is, in my opinion, one of the most experienced ones throughout the entire game, so perhaps this was him being drunk and accidentally having sober dialogue. but im going to pretend its because they burnt his feet.

his none-existent recovery: i actually spoke about this on a different platform, and compared the recovery that arthur had to the one sean had, which they both deserved, and lets just say some people disagreed. according to them, a party is good enough! despite the fact, sean needs to heal, or at least get the chance to see a doctor, and a party is literally the opposite of healing time. he has just been kidnapped, certain he wasn’t going to make it, getting tortured, and mentally that’s going to fuck with you. but again, no one in camp really cares or notices and he doesn’t get to really actually recover from that. obviously sean was not upset about getting a party in the slightest, dont get me wrong, but for other users to claim that’s all he needs while we’re discussing it just seems a little weird to me. and something that has always upset me is the way he is immediately put back to work, that is what i mean when i say he does not get to recover properly, he is straight back on guard duty. and we all know guard duty involves being on your feet for hours, which is especially bad for poor sean who has just had his feet burnt. seriously, give my man a break (NEWSFLASH: A PARTY IS NOT A BREAK IN THIS SITUATION)

anyways, expect another post about his napping and sleeping habits because i honestly can’t wait to write about that (watch out hosea you’re gunna get slandered)

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #sean macguire #red dead redemption two #hosea matthews #GIVE HIM A BREAK #PLEASE #sean rdr2 #he is my baby

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catslvrr · 5 months

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heaven sent — 09. beach

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You woke up the next morning just before your cursed alarm, your body now accustomed to your new sleeping schedule. There was still no Danielle. You went back to sleep.

You woke up around eight hours later to the sound of music. To your horror, Danielle was sitting in your chair, listening to the demo. You rushed towards her and slammed your laptop down so hard you almost took her fingers off.

“Don’t listen to that!”

“Did you finish the song last night?” She frowned, reading the lyrics you scribbled on a piece of scrap paper.

“Just needed a way to pass the time,” you muttered, snatching the paper from her. “Nothing else to it.”

There was an awkward silence.

“Look,” you cleared your throat. “About that night-”

She cut you off. “How far is the nearest beach?”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, but answered anyway. “It’s about an hour's drive from here. Why?”

“Let’s go,” she said. “Bring your guitar too.”

You looked out the window. It wasn’t a particularly sunny day. The skies were gray, mostly filled with clouds. And it was four in the afternoon. But who were you to say no to spending time with Danielle?

The car ride to the beach was awkward. Danielle was busy playing Subway Surfers on your phone, and you didn’t know how to exactly start a conversation.

Does she want to talk about the kiss? Or should I just pretend it never happened?

Her sudden question caught you off-guard. “Does it ever get easier?”

“Huh?”

“Losing someone, I mean.”

“Oh.” You tapped the steering wheel. “In a sense, yeah.”

She turned off your phone as Jake ran into a train and slid down the screen, before turning to face you. “How so?”

“At first, it’s suffocating. It kinda swallows you whole and spits out just a shell of what you once were.” You kept your eyes trained on your road.

“But I guess as time goes on, you kind of learn to live with it. I mean, the pain is still there — it resurfaces when you see bits of them in the most random things. But you grow numb, and you eventually realize that all you can do is reminisce about the memories that you have with them.”

“I see,” she murmured, turning back to play Subway Surfers again. It was silent for the rest of the ride.

You were immediately hit with the strong smell of salt when you exited the car. The two of you made your way closer to the shore, and you lugged the guitar along.

Danielle sat down, and you followed her. It was quiet for a few minutes as both of you listened to the waves crashing against the shore.

She then spoke, still staring at the horizon. “Were the lyrics about me?”

“Yeah,” you answered honestly. “Who else would it be about?”

A pause. You bit your lip.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” Her head whipped to yours. “No, I’m the one that should be sorry. I’m meant to make you happy, but I didn’t even show up yesterday.”

You chuckled bitterly, absentmindedly tracing patterns in the sand. “So, this is about your job, then.”

“Yes,” she nodded slowly. “It is.”

“I thought you liked me too,” you whispered after a moment’s breath, tearing your eyes away from her as you felt a lump in your throat.

“You don’t get it,” she balled up a fist full of sand. “I can’t.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“Everything’s stopping me!” Danielle raised her voice as she sat up, but quickly slumped back down, muttering an apology.

“Y/n,” she breathed out. “We’re running out of time.”

She unfurled her fingers to let the sand pass through, feeling as though each grain of sand falling through her fingers was the seconds you had left together fading away.

You froze, the past week running through your mind. Fuck. I forgot about the whole ‘two weeks to fulfill your wish’ thing.

“Danielle.” You were terrified of the answer, but you had to know. “What happens after our two weeks are over?”

She turned her face away from you.

“I’ll disappear,” she said, choking up. “And your memories will be altered, as if I was never here. As if I was nothing.”

But you aren’t nothing, is what you wanted to say, you’re everything to me.

“Fuck,” you exhaled deeply. “I didn’t know.”

You mentally counted how many days you had spent together. Only 6 days left.

“I like you, Y/n. I really do.” She sniffled. “But I don’t know if I can be with you for this week, knowing that I’ll lose you, and you won’t even remember me.”

You grabbed her hand gently, squeezing it. “I understand. We can stay as we were before.”

For a while, the two of you said nothing. She was still playing with the sand, watching the sunset.

“Play me the song.”

So that’s what the guitar’s for.

You propped the guitar on your lap, beginning to strum the chords. She closed her eyes, softly humming to the words you wrote for her.

As you listened to Danielle, you knew that regardless of whatever happens next, even if your memories were wiped clean, she would be your first and last love. The feelings that bloomed for her would never leave — they had grown roots that wrapped around your ribs and found a home in your chest.

After you strummed the ending chord, Danielle spoke again.

“I’m so scared,” she admitted quietly, shuffling closer to you, “But I think I’d rather be with you now and live through the pain than live with regret and what-ifs.”

You knitted your eyebrows, staring at her. “Are you sure?”

She nodded, then cracked a small smile. “A certain love expert spoke to me while you were asleep.”

Oh my god.

“Minji,” you scowled. “What did that little rat say?”

“You tell me,” she bumped your shoulder with hers. “Something about me moving in?”

You covered your face with your hands to hide a blush. “I’m never sharing my noodles with her again.”

“So the lyrics were about me, huh?” Danielle wiggled her eyebrows. “Didn’t know you were so romantic.”

“Shut it,” you muttered, as you let go of her hand to fish the apartment keys out of your pocket. “It was a moment of weakness.”

She cooed, pinching your cheeks. “You’re so sweet.”

Before you turned the doorknob, you turned around, biting your lip. “Are you gonna stay the night?”

“If you want me to,” she smiled.

You mirrored her smile. “I always do.”

You opened the door to see Minji lazing on the couch while hugging the bear plushie you gave her, snacking on some Pringles as she scrolled on her phone.

“Hey, lovebirds,” she smirked, looking up from her phone. “I see you two have kissed and made up.”

You rolled your eyes, throwing a takeaway bag at her as Danielle waved. “Got you some fish and chips, asshole.”

“I love you, bro!” She called out as you two made your way into your room. “And leave the door open!”

You splayed yourself on the bed, offering your laptop to Danielle after opening it.

She gasped, jumping on the bed to cuddle. You hoped she didn’t notice how fast your heart was beating. “Let’s watch Moana!”

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#newjeans x reader #newjeans fanfic #newjeans fic #danielle marsh x reader #mo jihye x reader

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2dmenenthusiast · 2 years

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"It's certainly Heaven if you're here, Darlin'."

(John Marston x Gn!Reader)

Holy shit it's finished!!! I literally started this fic back in MARCH. But you know what it's my longest fic ever and I'm proud of it. Also There is SMUT in this bad boy, so it might be ass, just a warning. But I hope ya'll enjoy!

ALSO Abigail is with everyone at the end but I genuinely forgot to add her lmaoo

Reblogs and feedback are always encouraged and appreciated!!

Summary: You're life with John was constantly filled with ups and downs. Hopefully you can both make it together in one piece.

Word Count: 12k

Warnings/other info: SMUT (if you want to skip it, it's right after John says I love you for the first time), description of injury, swearing, uhh Arthur and Kieran live because I said so, reader is gender nuetral as always.

“Hey, would you- ow!”

“Well stop flinching, ya fool!”

John sighed as you scolded him, lightly slapping at his chest before continuing to sew up the gashes on his face. He winced every time the needle pushed through his skin, the hand that rested on your knee squeezing every so often as he tried not to think about the pain.

“I’m almost finished,” you muttered, carefully pushing his soaked hair out of his face and rolling the needle between your thumb and finger a few times, making sure you had a good hold on it since your fingers felt numb from the cold. He watched you as you worked, eyes trained on the way your lips pressed together when you concentrated, your brows slightly furrowed. If he felt shitty before, he felt even more so now. He could deal with Abigail scolding him for being stupid, but he couldn’t take the worried look you had when his injured body was pulled off of Javier’s horse and into the house, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. But you didn’t cry. You turned to Jack and let him know his daddy was going to be okay, put on a brave face so his boy wouldn’t worry about his idiot of a father. You were… something else.

Gently lifting John’s head, you carefully wrapped gauze around his wounds once you finished stitching him up, making sure it was secure around his head. “Now, for the rest of our time up here, do you think you could possibly not get yourself into any more trouble?” you asked, resting your hand on John’s chest.

“‘Course, Darlin’. Don’t think I could manage to get up to much while I’m laying here.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’d figure out a way.”

Your lips quirked up in a smile, a sight John loved to see, and he brought a hand up to rest it over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Think you could stay for a bit?”

You pursed your lips, pretending to think about it. “Well, considering we’re snowed in on top of a mountain, I don’t suppose there’s anything better for me to do.”

John scoffed, shaking his head and immediately regretting it. “Shut up.”

“You’re gonna have to make me, cowboy.” There was that teasing lilt to your voice that always had John’s heart racing, and if he weren’t bedridden at the moment, he’d kiss that smug look off your face.

“Oh, you best believe I will once I’m up and about again.”

You laughed, the sound like wind chimes in his ears. “Alright. I guess I’ll have to take you up on that.”

John let out a hum, and you pushed down on his shoulder when he tried to sit up from the bed to kiss you, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

You’re hurt.

He just shrugged, grabbing your wrist and pulling you forward.

I don’t care.

You shook your head with a smile as you leaned down to place a gentle kiss on his lips, being mindful of his injuries. Of course, you were oblivious to the prying eyes in the cabin that just watched the short unspoken exchange. Abigail smiled to herself and looked back at the fire.

Damn fool, she thought.

Your time in Horseshoe Overlook was finally starting to ignite some hope in you as the gang sang around the campfire to celebrate Sean’s return. Javier was strumming on his guitar, but you could barely hear it over the loud caterwauling of your friends. You laughed when the Irishman tripped over a nearby log as he drunkenly stumbled around, but the contents of his bottle was soon all over your shirt, and you let out a gasp when the cold liquid seeped through the fabric and touched your skin. Sean profusely apologized, slurred syllables coming out to try and form coherent sentences. You waved him off with a smile and told him not to worry about it. He was home, he should celebrate.

Standing from your seat, you left the warmth of the fire and walked over to your tent, a shiver rolling up your spine. A pair of arms were suddenly around your waist, and you let out a yelp when you were lifted from the ground and someone’s face was pressed into your shoulder.

“John!” Your hands quickly gripped his arms, fingers digging into the sleeves of his union suit as he set you down. He chuckled against your neck, his warm breath fanning over your skin before he let out a soft hum and tightened his arms around you.

“Where you been?”

“Uh, by the fire?”

Another hum, and you slightly tensed when his lips pressed against your neck before relaxing back into his chest.

“You’re cold.”

“Yeah well, Sean spilled his beer on me, I was gonna go get changed.”

Laying a few more kisses on your neck, John let go of you before grabbing your hand and leading you to your shared tent. Pulling back the flap, he let you in first and made sure to close the tent behind you both so you could undress without prying eyes, and you made quick work of unbuttoning your shirt, eager to get something warmer on. As you searched for something clean to wear, you sucked in sharply when you felt John’s rough hands on your shoulders, the noise devolving into a soft moan when he dug his thumbs into your tense muscles. His deft fingers made their way down your spine, memorizing every freckle and mole and mark like he hadn’t already done so a thousand other times. Once his hands reached your hips, he spun you around and hooked his fingers in the belt loops of your pants, pulling you close so you fell against his chest.

“Jeez, someone’s a little touchy when they’re drunk, hm?” you teased, hands coming up to push your fingers through his hair.

He leaned forward, his forehead gently knocking against yours. “Mm, well, when you look so lovely, how can I resist?”

You let out a chuckle, pushing at his chest. “Stop trying to be romantic, Marston. It doesn’t suit you.”

“M’serious.” There was a sudden stillness in the air as John pulled back to get a proper look at you, his hands coming up to cradle your jaw. “I think you’re… wonderful.”

Warmth blossomed in your chest and you smiled, pushing a few loose strands of hair behind his ear before pressing your lips to his uninjured cheek.

“Well, maybe romance is something you’re good at, cowboy.”

“Don’t know much about that. Just that it’s easier when it comes to you.”

“Wow. You know, I think that might be the sappiest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts then, ‘cause you’re never gonna get to see me like this again.”

“Oh, I’m definitely keeping a tally.”

You yelped when John pinched your behind, and he promptly silenced you with a less than gentle kiss, his hand resting on the back of your neck as you looped your arms around his shoulders. He was all teeth and tongue as his nose clumsily knocked against your own, hands quickly wandering down and making quick work on unbuttoning your pants. You let out a sharp gasp into his mouth when his hand unceremoniously shoved down the front of your trousers, and he swallowed every desperate sound you made with eager lips.

“Fuck. John-”

"Woah! Guess this tent was occupied! You're a bloody animal, John Marston!"

John was quick to shield you from Sean and Karen, facing his back to them and using his body to hide your own. You let your head fall against his chest, your face heating up from embarrassment.

“Hey!- Would you get the hell outta here?!”

Sean whistled and wiggled his eyebrows, making light of the humiliating situation before grabbing Karen’s hand and stumbling off somewhere else so they could have their privacy after drunkenly invading yours. Once they were gone, you let out a groan and pushed away from John, grabbing the first clean shirt you saw and quickly slipping it on.

“I don’t even wanna think about what they were gonna do in our tent,” you muttered as you fastened the buttons.

John shrugged. “I imagine it was what we were about to do.”

You rolled your eyes, picking up your balled up, ruined shirt and throwing it at his face as you laughed. “Don’t think I’m so easy, Marston. Gonna take a lot more than your drunken confessions of love to get me in bed.”

“You say that like I haven’t done less to get you in bed.”

You pinned him with a stare, one that had John chuckling before he threw your shirt to the side and held out his hand. “C’mon.”

Letting out a sigh, you accepted his outstretched hand and let him drag you back to the festivities, leading you back to the fire where mostly everyone seemed to congregate. Sitting down, he pulled you onto his lap and wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as you hummed along to the familiar raunchy tune everyone was singing. But John wasn’t focussed on the song, he was focussed on you, watching you sing with a smile on your face, slightly swaying in his lap. He watched the way the fire danced in your eyes and listened to your lovely voice join in with the other’s. He swore that one day, it wouldn’t take being in a drunken stupor to have the courage to say those sappy confessions to you.

“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay to pull a job right now?”

“It’s just some cattle we’re gonna be handlin’. Not robbing a bank,” John said, pulling on his boots.

You stood a few feet away from him, brows furrowed in a worried expression as you fidgeted with your hands. “I know, it’s just… anything could happen. I mean, I know we need the money, and I’m just worrying, but everything’s just been so hectic lately and I-”

“Darlin’.”

You sighed, clenching and unclenching your hands before forcing your shoulders to relax. “Right, sorry. It’s fine. I know you’ll be fine.”

John wanted to smile at how much you seemed to fret over him. Ever since he got injured, it was rare to see you not by his side. He knew that was partially why you were so worried. The fact that he was going to do this job, and you weren’t going to be with him. But you knew that eventually he had to get himself back out there. He couldn’t be on bed rest forever. Dutch wouldn’t let him. But more so, he wouldn’t let himself.

“I’ll be back tonight, alright? I’m takin’ Arthur with me, so things should go smoothly.”

You scoffed. “Right, hopefully before one of you ends up putting a bullet in the other. The pair of you act like stubborn children when you’re around each other.”

John sighed, standing up from his cot before coming closer, running his hands up and down your arms to try and give you some comfort. “Listen, if I’m not back by sundown, you have all the right to holler at me about how dumb or reckless or inconsiderate I am, and whatever else you manage to come up with in the meantime, alright?”

“... You forgot stubborn.”

He just chuckled, his heart swelling with adoration for you. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the way you worried about him. He placed a kiss against your hairline and gave your arms a squeeze before exiting his tent, you following after him. You watched as he mounted his horse and left camp, letting out a deep breath before walking over to Abigail’s tent. Jack was sitting on the ground next to her, playing with his wooden toys.

“That fool finally leave?” she asked, and you chuckled as you sat down next to her, leaning back on your hands.

“Yeah. I swear, Abigail, I don’t know how you put up with him as long as you did. He can be so… so-”

“Infuriating? Idiotic? Stupid? Shall I go on?”

You laughed, tilting your head and mindlessly watching her son play. “A combination of all of those things, I guess.”

Abigail just shrugged, looking at the pair of Jack’s pants in her hands and continuing to sew the hole in them. “Well, you think he’s bad now, he was even worse back then. A dumb fool when I had Jack. But I will say… he’s gotten better in the past few months.”

“Maybe. I’ve been hounding him about spending more time with his son. Not that it’s really my place but… I don’t know. I like what we are, and I like that you and I have a good relationship. I’d never forget that you and Jack are still his family and a part of his life. I’m just- I don’t want to overstep my boundaries.”

“Hold on now,” she set down the pair of pants, giving you her full attention, “has that idiot said something to make you feel like that?”

“Well… no. But I-”

“Darlin’, If you ever overstep, believe me, I will tell you if you are. You acknowledge that Jack and I are part of his life, well, I acknowledge that you’re part of his. And I-” She sighed, looking over at Jack for a moment as she pressed her lips together, thinking of what to say. “I’m glad that he has someone like you to kick him in the right direction when he starts down that stupid path of his. John and I, we made our peace a long time ago, and I wouldn’t put you in between any leftover nonsense we have. It’s mostly just about Jack now, anyways, and I can see that you care for the boy more than his own father does sometimes.” When she looked back at you, she reached over and placed a hand on your knee. “You’re good for him. And… I’m more than happy to realize the fact that you’re a part of this family, too.”

There were tears in your eyes when she finished speaking, her reassuring words wrapping around your heart and squeezing like a warm embrace. You could see what John saw in Abigail. She was beautiful and strong, didn’t take any nonsense from others. You were glad to call her your friend. Smiling, you reached up to wipe at your eyes, lightly sniffling.

“Wow, John was a real fool to let someone like you go,” you said, and Abigail laughed before continuing to sew up Jack’s pants.

“Believe me, if he does anything to screw up what you two have, he will not hear the end of it from me.”

Rage couldn’t possibly begin to describe the emotion bubbling up inside of you as you stormed through camp, fists clenched tightly at your sides and eyes sweeping over everyone, trying to find a specific face. You could see Micah coming towards you out of your peripherals, wearing that sleazy smirk on his face like your anger awoke something in him. Your lip tugged up in an almost snarl when he opened his mouth to speak, but you quickly rushed past him, making a point to ram your shoulder into his as you walked by. You didn’t have time nor the energy to deal with Micah’s bullshit antics right now. You already had one idiot cowboy to deal with.

“Marston!”

Heads shot up in your direction at your voice, hands pausing in their chores to try and get a proper listen at what was happening. You could hardly care about all that though when the lithe man you were looking for stepped out of the Shady Belle home, a brow raised in question as he came down the steps.

“Darlin’, you alright?”

You jerked back when John tried to reach out to touch you, raising a finger at him. “Don’t you pull that with me, right now. Don’t try and act dumb even if you’re a god damn master at it. Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?!”

There was a brief pause as his gaze made its way around the individual faces of the gang before eventually coming back to yours, like he would find the answer to your question in their expressions. “I… What are you talkin’ about?”

“Christ, Jack, you insufferable ass! You couldn’t be bothered to tell me he was gone?! You couldn’t find the time to slip that into casual conversation?!”

John got that look on his face that he always did when he started to put his guard up: that hard look in his eyes and his jaw set, shoulders squared as he deflected every word you threw at him. You fucking hated it. Hated that he was about to pull that bullshit tough act that he always did, especially with you.

“When the hell was I supposed to tell you? You’ve barely been at camp these past three days!”

“I was here all last night! You’re the one who’s been avoiding me, turning the other way whenever I try to even get close to you! I-” Tears of anger quickly welled up in your eyes, blinking a few times to try to keep them from falling. You didn’t catch the way John’s expression faltered for a moment. “I could’ve helped. The Braithwaite’s, I should’ve been there!”

John knew you were right. You were just as much family to Jack as the rest of the gang was, maybe even more so. He knew what you were saying made sense, and that you had every right to be upset. But nobody ever said John was able to see reason through his stubbornness.

“What does it matter, anyway? He’s not your child. You’re not his family! What concerns my family shouldn’t be any of your damn business!”

It felt as if you had been stabbed. Like he had carved a hole in your body where he could reach between your ribs and tear your heart out . Your breath hitched in your throat, a rogue tear quickly falling before you could make any effort to stop it. The camp around you stilled, the silence deafening as John’s words rang in your ears, and you sniffled, slowly nodding to yourself.

“Okay. If that’s how you see it… You don’t have to worry about me being in your business anymore.”

There was a brief moment where he just stared at you, a million thoughts echoing in his head, but by the time he opened his mouth to say anything, you were already gone, making your way back to your horse and riding out of camp. He watched your retreating figure until he couldn’t make you out anymore, letting out a sigh as he turned away, and he briefly caught the stares of everyone around camp before they all went about their own tasks, pretending as if nothing out of the ordinary just happened.

Well, he supposed him making a fool out of himself wasn’t so unordinary after all.

***

“Come on, everyone! Let’s celebrate!”

There were cheers following Dutch’s exclamation, the gang gathering around the campfire and singing joyfully while Javier played a cheery tune on his guitar. You were glad Jack was back, glad that he was reunited with the people that loved and cared for him deeply.

You watched the celebration from afar, leaning against a tree as you observed everyone’s smiling faces. Of course, you wanted to join in, but everytime you gathered the courage to finally sit down with everyone, you would make out John’s face in the crowd and immediately sink in on yourself, his words from earlier repeating in your head.

His family was none of your business.

Despite those reassuring words Abigail said to you all those months ago, you wondered if you were ever part of their family. If John cared for you enough to even consider you as such. All those shared moments in private, whispered confessions between chaste kisses, the almost ‘I love you’s’ that were never said, but were conveyed through loving actions; did they mean anything to him? Were they just a forgetful blip in his life that he’d leave behind, along with any remnants of you?

The way he seemed to hold your entire world in his hands made you feel pathetic. How he hung the stars and moon, like you were some lovesick idiot who went sweet on a man who probably didn’t need you. You let him take your heart, something you once so preciously guarded behind stone walls that he managed to tear down with that dry wit and rebellious nature of his. What a fool you’ve been, to even think that there would ever be a future with a man such as John Marston.

“Hey.”

Snapping your head up, you cleared your throat and straightened your posture as Arthur made his way over to you, fingers lazily hooked into his belt. You felt tense as he leaned against the tree next to you, his shoulder grazing yours.

“Ya know, you don’t have to put on a brave face in front of me. I’ve known you long enough to know you’re fakin’ it.”

You sighed at his words, your body immediately slumping back against the tree as you let your body relax. “I’m uh, I’m guessing you heard that entire shit show at camp earlier?”

Arthur huffed. “Yeah, had to deal with the aftermath, too. Between getting Jack and figuring out how he was gonna apologize to you, that boy’s mind was a mess the entire ride there and back.”

You snorted, the idea of John being so distraught over you seeming almost unbelievable.

“Well, I bet most of that was because of his son. I can only imagine what he must’ve been going through.”

The quiet ambiance quickly filled the gaps in conversation, the singing from the gang combining with the loud chirping of the crickets. All it did was make you think. How could John not see that you cared for Jack too? That you’d give anything to see that boy safe and happy?

“You were right, you know. To be upset. Hell, I’m sure he’s heard enough from me and Abigail about how much of an idiot he’s been around you.”

You shook your head. “You didn’t have to do that. His son went missing, I can understand why he was acting that way, or why he said the things he did-”

“Doesn’t give him the right to take it out on you.”

“I pushed him, Arthur. He was going through something, and I got angry and made it all about me when I could’ve just talked to him after everything was said and done… this is my fault.”

“Hey,” Arthur turned to fully face you, leveling you with that stare of his that made you feel like a kid, “that boy is your family, too, and you had every right to worry about him. Don’t let what John said change that fact.”

Letting out a sigh, you leaned forward and rested your head against Arthur’s chest, feeling exhausted from the long day. He carefully wrapped his arms around you, a hand rubbing up and down your back.

“Thanks, Arthur.”

“Of course, kid.” There was a crunch in the grass, and you and Arthur looked up to see John slowly coming over to you. “Speak of the devil.” Pulling away, he gave your shoulder a reassuring pat and stared at John as he passed him, the younger man holding eye contact until he was out of his sight.

You crossed your arms over your chest and looked down at your mud covered boots as John got closer. When he cleared his throat, you didn’t look up at him. There was a sigh, and then-

“M’sorry.”

You slowly raised your head, taking in John’s appearance. He looked exhausted, the fact that his son went missing clearly weighing on him. But he seemed more relaxed that Jack was back, even though at the moment he looked like an anxious wreck in front of you. You remained silent as you watched him, and John shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, aren’t you gonna say anything?” he asked.

“Oh, no, I wanted to keep listening to this half-assed apology you’re trying to give me.”

John scoffed and shook his head. “C’mon. Don’t be like that.”

“Don't be like what, John?” you pushed off the tree, walking towards him, “Don’t act like what you said hurt me? Like I haven’t been thinking about it all day?” He opened his mouth to speak, but you raised your hand to stop him and sighed. “Listen, I- I know how I acted earlier was dumb. I should’ve just talked to you about it. But… I care about you, okay? And Jack and Abigail, I would do anything for them. I’d do anything for you. God, I’m such a damn fool for you, John, I feel silly just thinking about it. What you said earlier? I just- I wanna know if you meant it. If you really want me out of your business, if you don’t want me getting between you and your family, I’ll stop. And then we can end… whatever this is, if you want.”

John’s brows furrowed as he stepped closer to you, and you hoped he couldn’t see how tears were on the verge of slipping down your face at the mere thought of him not wanting to be with you anymore. You weren’t so lucky though, as John reached out to wipe away the tears that had gathered under your eyes. He hated seeing your cry, especially when he was the one that caused it.

“Darlin’, of course I don’t wanna stop this. I- shit, I’m sorry I even made you think of somethin’ like that. And I’m sorry I said all those horrible things to you today. None of it was true. You are family, and whatever happens to Jack is as much your concern as it is mine and Abigail’s. I’m sorry for saying it wasn’t. So,” he huffed, running a hand through his hair, “I guess what I’m sayin’ is, I want you in my business, if you wanna be, that is.”

Your lips slowly split into a smile, and you moved to throw your arms around John’s shoulders. “John Marston, I would love nothing more than to be all up in your business,” you said with a laugh, and John’s mouth quirked up in that little half smile that you loved so much.

“Shuddup.”

You hummed, eyes trained on his lips before you leaned forward and kissed him, his arms coming up to wrap around you as the party continued on in the background.

“Fuck!”

Ducking behind cover, you brought your hand up to your shoulder with a pained grunt, pulling it back to reveal your blood covered palm. That was gonna be a bitch to get out later. You tried pushing the pain aside as you reloaded your pistol, popping your head out and nailing an O'driscoll right in the head.

Fuck this cursed, swamp infested state!

There was a shout of your name, and you looked over to see John behind a wagon, looking at you with concern evident in his expression. You waved him off, letting him know you’d be fine. Your exchange was interrupted when you heard a blood curdling scream, and you lifted your head to see that an O’Driscoll had Mary-Beth by the arm, dragging her away as she tried to fight him off.

You didn’t hesitate as you ran from cover towards her, shouting at her to get down and lifting your gun, putting three bullets in the bastard’s chest. He fell with a heavy thud, and Mary-Beth turned to you with a terrified expression before you shoved her towards where the rest of the gang had huddled for safety, telling her to run. You tried to follow her when an arm roughly curled around your waist, hauling you back as you kicked and yelled. You tried to point your gun towards them, but it was quickly knocked out of your hand before something cold and sharp was pressed against your neck.

“Don’t try anythin’ funny now, yeah? You won’t wanna find out what happens then,” he said, his hot breath against your ear as he chuckled.

You cringed at the stench of him, body thrashing and driving your foot into his shin. He let you go with a howl of pain. Spinning to face him, you surged forward and tackled him to the ground, barely giving him any time to react as your fist came down over and over again. But he began to swing wildly with his knife, and the blade sunk deep into your thigh. You cried out, white hot pain surging through your leg, and the momentary distraction gave him the upper hand, throwing you off him and yanking the knife out of your skin.

“Hooo-wee! We got a feisty one here, boys! Too bad we can’t have more fun witchya,” he said, tongue running over his cracked lips.

Your lip raised in a snarl as you tried to fight him off using all your remaining strength, but he was determined, bringing the knife up and aiming for your chest. Panic surged through you, hands shooting out to grab at his wrist. You couldn’t die like this. At the hands of a fucking O’Driscoll?! A shot rang out before he could bring the knife down, blood spraying over your face and his brains blowing out the back of his head. You quickly pushed his limp body off of you as John desperately called out to you.

You almost collapsed from the pain in your leg when you tried to stand, bringing your hand down to put pressure on it, but fuck it was deep, and it hurt like hell.

Your voice was hoarse when you called John’s name, and he was by your side in an instant, eyes frantically searching over you.

“Come on, we gotta get you outta here.”

You nodded, wrapping an arm around his shoulder as he helped you stand. He was quick to get you to safety, lifting you up into the back of one of the wagons.

“Shit, you’re hurt pretty bad.”

“I’ll live, you go finish them off.”

“Darlin’-”

“Go! I’ll be fine.”

He looked at you for a moment, your words rolling around in his head for a moment before he sighed and nodded, leaning down to give you a searing kiss. He hopped out of the wagon, immediately firing at the remaining O’Driscoll’s, and you looked around you for something to cover your wound with. Letting out a groan when you found nothing, you pulled out your knife and moved to the edge of the wagon, wincing as you got up onto your knees. Brining your knife up, you cut out a piece of the canvas cover of the wagon. Grimshaw would be upset, but you’d take her wrath over bleeding out any day.

Or, wait-

No, don’t be stupid!

Shaking your head, you tied the cloth tightly around your thigh with a groan, teeth tightly clenched as you leaned back. You hoped this all would be over soon.

Your prayers were answered when the gunfire ceased, and you cautiously poked your head out of the back of the wagon to see the rest of the O’Driscoll’s were dead, much to your relief. You attempted to get out of the wagon, but were quickly stopped when Charles came rushing over to you.

“Woah, woah, woah. Take it slow,” he said, reaching out to you.

Placing a hand on his shoulder, Charles carefully lifted you by your hips and set you down on the muddy ground, letting you use him as a crutch as you walked towards the gang.

“Oh, shit, kid,” Arthur grimaced when he noticed you. You waved him off.

“I’m okay.”

“Okay?! You’ve been shot and stabbed, for Christ's sake!”

“Wow, really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Arthur rolled his eyes as John came rushing over to you, taking Charles’s place as your human crutch.

“Come on, we gotta get outta here now. Before more of those bastards show up,” Dutch said.

The man began barking out orders to the gang, and John helped you back to the wagon, making sure to grab some medical supplies along the way.

“Here, I’m gonna have Abigail come and patch you up.”

“Good idea, knowing you, you’d probably put another hole in me.” John sighed, giving you a pointed look that had you shrugging your shoulders and immediately regretting it as you were quickly reminded of the bullet lodged in one of them.

“Christ, could you stop for two seconds?”

You raised a brow. “Stop what?”

“Stop!- Shit, stop making me worry about you. You could’ve died today. Ain’t nothin’ to be making jokes about.”

“John, I’m fine-”

“But you almost weren’t! How can you be so casual about this? The person I love almost dies, and you’re just-”

“You love me?”

John froze, lips parting like he was trying to find the right words to say. John Marston was never certain about a lot of things, but one thing he was sure about was just how much he loved you. He loved you so much it physically hurt, his heart wrenching whenever you cried, his mood lifting when you’d smile at him. He felt almost blessed just to breathe your air, to be able to hold you and kiss you. The fact that he got to call you his was unfathomable to him. Yet here he was, your face gently cradled in his hands like you’d shatter the moment he was too rough with you. Clearly John did something right in his life to end up so fortunate to have you in it.

Wetting his lips, John brushed his thumb over your cheek, smearing the blood on your face that hadn’t completely dried yet.

“I’ve loved you for a long time, Darlin’.”

Bottom lip quivering, you threw your arms around him, not caring about the screaming pain in your shoulder. It felt like any words you wanted to say had been stolen from you, too overwhelmed to properly express just how much you felt. The only thing you could do was mutter a quiet, “I love you, too,” into his neck, his arms carefully winding around you.

We’re gonna be okay.

You can’t remember the last time you got to relax like this. The last time you felt this good.

You muffled a gasp into John’s shoulder when he hit you with a particularly hard thrust, reaching places deep inside you that you couldn’t even recall anyone else having discovered. Maybe it was the fact that you almost died a few days ago, but holy fuck, he was something else in that moment.

You tried to keep quiet as to not alert the rest of the camp, but god he felt so fucking good inside of you. You could barely contain your moans that so desperately wanted to slip out every time he pulled out and pushed himself back in. And when he reached down between your bodies and began playing with the most sensitive part of you, you almost lost it right then and there.

“Fuck, Darlin’. I’m not gonna last much longer if you keep squeezin’ me like that,” John groaned, lips pressed against your pulse as you keened.

He’d been extra handsy tonight, too. Always touching some part of you whether it be his hand pressed against your lower back or his side brushing against yours when he stood close to you. You couldn’t get away from him all day. He followed your figure with hungry eyes when you did literally anything around camp. When you finally noticed, you knew you were in for it. He was fucking burning for you when you retreated to your tent for the night, pawing at your clothes the second the tent flap closed behind him. He was so eager, he ripped a few buttons off your shirt trying to pull it off you, but you didn’t have it in you to yell at him. You were just as desperate as he was.

“C’mon. I wanna hear you.”

You shook your head, burying your face into his neck. Beaver Hollow was cramped. It felt like all of you were living right on top of each other. There was no way no one would hear.

His hand came down and gripped the back of your thigh, pushing your leg up and spreading you further apart, and he let out a grunt when he felt your teeth sink into his shoulder. Pulling back, his other hand came up to grip your jaw, stilling his hips as he forced you to look at him.

“You holdin’ out on me, sweetheart?”

His hips rolled tightly against your own, your jaw dropping open as your head fell back against the bedroll.

“Don’t- mmh- Don’t fuckin’ tease me, Marston.” He chuckled against your collar bone. He was being cute, but he still wasn’t fucking moving. “I swear to god, if you don’t move right now I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

He snorted that time, only slightly relieving you with the smallest movement of his hips. You didn’t even really mind if you finished, having already come minutes before when he had gone down on you like a man starved. But you were fucking aching for more than just his mouth, and his cock just fit inside you so nicely-

You scrambled to slap your hand over your mouth when he suddenly resumed his thrusts, your back arching up from the bedroll as a rough hand dragged down your front. You choked on a moan when he sat back on his knees and lifted you up into his lap, his hands guiding your hips. Your hand pressed flat against his solid chest, the fingers on your other hand curling into his hair and tugging him forward to sloppily force his lips against yours.

“Fuck!” you gasped, unable to contain the moan that came tumbling out as you held onto him for dear life.

All hopes of being quiet were lost after that, delicious moans pouring out of you that had John picking up the pace so you could both reach your end. You were a bit confused when he laid you back down and pressed his hand against your mouth, his motions stopping, and you whined for him to continue. You arched your hips up desperately, but quickly understood why he stopped when you heard footsteps getting closer to your tent. You silently prayed for them to go away, but your widened eyes met with John’s when you felt him slowly begin to move, and you quickly shook your head against his hand.

He ignored you, slowly pushing in and out, and the feeling had you biting into the flesh of his hand. He didn’t move it, your hands coming up to grip his wrist. You were worried, but the risk of getting caught, the way John felt inside you, it had you cumming in seconds. John was right behind you with a quiet groan, the feeling of you finishing with him inside you sending him over the edge, and the steps slowly retreated.

He gently pulled out with a sigh and collapsed beside you, both of you working to catch your breath.

“God, I really hope that wasn’t Micah,” you muttered breathlessly.

“Eugh. Don’t make me think about him right now.”

You laughed, and John pinched your side. “Guess we’ll see what he says tomorrow, then.”

It went without saying, Beaver Hollow was without a doubt your least favorite camp spot. It was dark, creepy, and there were possible cannibals lurking throughout the woods. However, despite all those things, the starry night sky was a breathtaking sight.

“Ooh, and that one, that one’s Orion.” you said, pointing up at the sky.

John chuckled from his spot beside you. “You sure know a lot about this stuff, huh?”

You shrugged, lightly squeezing his hand that rested between you. “Not really. I just know the little bit my mother taught me. Orion’s always been my favorite.”

You heard John let out a hum as you continued to look at the stars, unaware of the fact that he had shifted his gaze over to you. There was something about the way you’d talk about things you were interested in that had warmth swirling around in his chest. The way your eyes would light up and you’d get this smile on your face that rivaled the stars you thought of so dearly. He’d never admit it, but that smile was his favorite sight to see after a long day, even if it meant only seeing it after being lectured over how much of an inconsiderate fool he’d been earlier. Still, it was always worth it.

The distant chattering of the gang and the loud chirping of crickets filled the silence between you, a gentle breeze shaking the leaves of the trees and causing a chill to run through you. After a little while, you finally looked over to meet John’s eyes.

“You know, the view is up there,” you said.

John turned on his side, propping his elbow up so he could rest his head in his hand, “Yeah, but I got a better one next to me.”

You scoffed, reaching over and slapping his shoulder as he chuckled, and you turned to face him as well. "Well, you're not so bad to look at yourself," you muttered, reaching out to play with the loose thread of his shirt.

John immediately shook his head. "I'm an ugly bastard, no need to lie to me. I know these scars aren't exactly nice to look at."

"Oh, quite the contrary, actually," you said, moving your hand to carefully run your fingers over said scars. You started at his lip, your thumb brushing over it, before mapping out the ones on his cheek. "You know, some people find scars incredibly sexy."

John raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"

"Mhm. And one of those said people just happen to be me." You leaned forward before he could respond with some self deprecating joke and pressed your lips to his, continuing to caress his scarred cheek.

He hummed into the kiss, hand slowly trailing down your back before he rolled over, and you laughed against his mouth as you fell on top of him. Pressing a hand against his chest, the other came up to rest against his cheek as you trailed kisses over his jaw, and his hands fell to your hips, his hold possessive and wanting. You softly gasped when his fingers made their way under your shirt, his skin rough and warm. You pulled away before it could go any further, and John let out a displeased sigh that had you chuckling.

“I know, I know. But, we’re not exactly alone,” you said, glancing up at the rest of the gang, some sitting by the fire, and the rest sound asleep.

“Hasn’t exactly stopped us before.”

You pinched his side before laying your head against his chest, feeling him shake underneath you as he laughed. “Well, yeah, but that was different. It was the middle of the night and everyone was already asleep. Not every single person in camp had the potential to hear us.”

“You sure about that? I mean, with how loud you are-”

“Marston, you finish that sentence and I will never let you touch me again.”

He let out another laugh that had you smiling. You always loved his laugh, the sound being so foreign these days. You wished he had more reasons to be happy. You wished that for all of you. You closed your eyes as John ran his hand up and down your back, and you listened to the steady sound of his heartbeat.

“John… Do you think we’ll make it out of this? I mean, things aren’t exactly looking up from here. Everything with Dutch, I just-"

"Hey, we're gonna get outta here. You, me, Jack, Abigail, and Arthur, we're gonna be safe."

He was right. You wanted him to be right. It was hard to imagine, though, when everything seemed to be crumbling around you. The Pinkertons and the O'Driscoll's constantly appearing, killing your friends. Dutch’s ideals and beliefs blurred day by day as his greed and his need to win grew. How could you possibly see a positive end to all this chaos? Despite all that, you tried to focus on the here and now, your body held safely in John’s arms, where you felt safest.

"I miss them," you whispered, your eyes welling up at the thought of all the friends you lost. Your family.

"Me too, Darlin'. Me too."

You knew that you should’ve left with the others. God, you fucking knew. You had talked about it with John before, about taking off in the middle of the night, taking Arthur, Abigail, and Jack with you, but he was on the fence. It was always a “maybe,” or “eventually,” and you felt like ripping your hair out. The pressure you felt to leave only increased when John got taken by the law and Dutch did absolutely nothing but scheme with Micah all day. He constantly made empty promises to you and Abigail that he would get him back, but after days of waiting for the man to make good on his word, you grew restless, enlisting the help of Arthur and Sadie to go rescue him.

“I had a goddamn plan!” Dutch had yelled, and you were so furious, you didn’t even think when you got right in his face and jabbed your finger into his chest.

“And what was that, huh?! Wait a few more days until all you brought back was a fucking corpse?! There was talk of hangin’ him!”

“There was talk of hanging him. Talk!”

You almost drew your gun right then and there, teeth bared as you moved forward, but Arthur gripped your arm and pulled you back. Your head snapped towards Micah when you heard him chuckle, that stupid smirk on his face that you wanted nothing more than to wipe off.

“Whatever. You’re just lucky that you have your fucking pet snake here to protect you.”

Ever since then, there had been a clear tension between you and Dutch, so when he recruited you to go on this train job, you were shocked at first. After your fight you thought he’d want nothing to do with you. But when you thought about it, Dutch didn’t want you on the job because he liked you. No, he wanted you because you were strong and damn good with a gun. To him, you were just another body, a tool to help him get his greedy hands on what he wanted most.

You let out a grunt as you threw yourself onto the train cart from Javier’s horse, rolling onto your side and quickly hauling yourself up on your feet. “God, this is such fucking bullshit!” you muttered, loading bullets into your pistol.

“The train’s being robbed!”

Your head whirled, and you saw a man standing on top of the hill. Goddammit. “Let’s get this show on the road, gentlemen!” you yelled, John making quick work of unlatching the burning car, and you busied yourself with helping Arthur set up the Maxim gun.

You jostled with the explosion of the car, catching Arthur’s shoulder to steady yourself. Looking over at John, relief flooded you when you saw that he was uninjured. You took a step towards him when-

BANG!

“John!”

He stumbled back with the shot, your arm shooting out to try and grab him. Your fingers briefly brushed against his before he fell off the train. You didn’t think as you went to jump after him, but there was a strong arm around your torso pulling you back. You kicked and screamed, trying to get out of Arthur’s hold.

“Kid, no! You wanna get yourself killed?!”

You beat your fist down against his arm. “Let me go! Fuck, I have to help him! Arthur-!”

With enough force, you were able to twist yourself out of his grip, breathing erratically and your hands violently shaking. Arthur held his hands out, trying to get you to calm down, but his words fell on deaf ears when your eyes landed on the man on top of the cart. With a strangled cry, you raised your pistol and emptied it into the man, tears clouding your vision. You pulled the trigger a few more times and heard nothing but empty clicks, and your body collapsed forward onto your hands and knees. Dutch said something about getting John, but you barely registered the words, blood rushing in your ears and heart hammering against your chest. You couldn’t think, could barely even breathe. Arthur placed a hand on your shoulder and you pulled away like his touch burned you. You felt fucking sick. There was a white hot rage that bubbled up inside you and made your insides churn, and you willed your body to stand on shaking legs. Your teeth were clenched so tightly that your jaw started to ache, and as Arthur spoke to Bill, you grabbed your shotgun from your back and began moving up the train without them, hearing him shout for you.

You tore through every lawman in your way, tears rolling down your face as you channeled all your anger and grief into each shot you took. A man came running at you, and you swung your shotgun at his head, his body crumpling down at your feet. You pressed the barrel against his head and squeezed the trigger, blood splattering all over your clothes. You didn’t care, never once bothering to duck into cover, even as the lawmen riding in on their horses started shooting at you. You were too hurt to care, too angry.

As you moved further up the train, a man suddenly came out from behind a wooden crate and slammed into you with a shout, causing you to drop your gun as you stumbled into the wall. You huffed through your nose, your aching shoulder taking most of the blow, and quickly pulled your knife from your thigh. You didn’t feel scared or intimidated, not even as the man raised his gun in an attempt to shoot you. You were just fucking pissed.

You moved in before he could take the shot, swiping the gun out of his hand and using your body to slam him into the wall. Your arm was across his throat, his eyes widening in fear, and you thrust your knife up into his gut, the blade sinking satisfyingly into his flesh. You watched as the life drained from his eyes, blood gurgling up his throat and spilling out of his mouth before you finally let him fall to the ground.

“Kid!”

Arthur gripped your arm and pulled you back from the body, looking over your blood covered form as Sadie came up behind him.

“Come on! We gotta hurry.” She brushed past you both, and you gave Arthur a nod before pulling away from him and following after Sadie towards the armored car, avoiding the man’s concerned gaze. You just wanted to get off this godforsaken train and find John.

***

If I never have to do a train robbery again, I will die happy.

Your sore limbs screamed at you as you lifted yourself up from the dirt, letting out a pained groan. You could mark down ‘jumping off of a moving train’ as one of your absolute least favorite things to do.

“You okay?”

You glanced over at Arthur, a hefty bag of money resting on his shoulder. You nodded, brushing the dirt off of your clothes. “Just peachy.”

Grabbing your own bag, you followed Bill, Sadie and Arthur down the tracks, the sound of Hooves beating against the dirt getting closer until Dutch, Micah, and Javier stopped in front of you on their horses. There was something missing that you quickly noticed. Someone.

“Where’s John?” Arthur asked.

Dutch shook his head. “I tried. I tried.”

“He didn’t make it,” Micah added. “That patrol killed him.”

The heavy bag fell to your feet, and everyone’s eyes landed on you. Arthur could practically feel the rage radiating off of you, his eyes not able to catch how fast your hand moved as you unholstered your gun and aimed it directly at Micah’s head. No one made a single move after that for a few seconds until Micah’s idiot buddies finally regained their senses and scrambled for their own weapons, pointing them at you. Ordinarily, Micah probably wouldn’t have been phased by the action. He spent so much time spewing his mouth and pissing people off, he most likely couldn’t count how many times in a day a gun had been pointed at him. But the look on your face, that pure, unbridled rage that swirled behind your eyes, it made him nervous.

“You're full of shit.” you spat.

Micah glanced over at Dutch before letting out a chuckle, raising his hands. “Now, I assure you-”

“Both of you! You fucking bastards!”

“Kid, don’t-”

You ignored Arthur’s soft pleas, shifting your gun to Dutch. “You tried?! So you just left him? Is that it?! You fucking left him to die, and were so concerened with saving your own pathetic skin that you couldn’t even grab his body?!”

“There wasn’t time! We had to run! Goddammit, don’t you think I-”

“I don’t think you did anything, Dutch! I think you’re a god damned liar and a traitor!”

Gun shaking in your hand, you finally lowered it after a moment, a broken sob clawing its way up your throat. He can’t be dead. He can’t be. Sadie softly uttered your name and took a cautious step towards you. Concern was written all over her face, gently placing a hand on the center of your back. Sadie showed more care for you in that moment than Dutch had in the past month. And you were abruptly reminded of the fact that, no, Dutch didn’t care about anyone but himself and his own personal gain. Maybe, maybe there was a time long ago when we would’ve gladly given his life for any one of you sorry fools. But now? Any love he had left for you had been weeded out. Speeding over to your horse, you mounted up and connected your gaze with Arthur’s. You didn’t have to say anything for him to know what you were about to do, and his simple nod told you everything you needed to know.

Be careful.

Taking a deep breath, your hands tightened on the reins and you spurred your horse into a gallop, not looking back when Dutch angrily shouted your name. You didn’t care what he’d do to you when you got back to camp, you needed to know for sure what John’s fate was. And if he was dead…

If he’s dead, I’ll fucking kill him!

You followed the train tracks and tried to remember where he fell, looking out for any unique landmarks. How could they just leave him? After everything he’s been through with this gang, his whole life dedicated to what Dutch stood for, and he fucking left him. It was heartbreaking watching the man you once valued as a leader devolve into the power hungry fanatic he was today. He preached honor and loyalty.

Faith.

Fuck faith.

Fuck him.

You wiped an angry tear away from your face and urged your horse to go faster, muttering apologies for how hard you were pushing her, but you couldn’t spare a moment. What if John was bleeding out, alone and in pain? What if he was desperately calling out for you?

What if, what if, what if.

Stopping your horse around where you thought John fell, you dismounted and made your way down the hill, gun held tightly in your hand. “John?!” You waited for a moment, listening closely for a response. When you got none, you searched further and shouted his name again. You tried to prepare yourself for the possibility that he was in fact dead, the thought weighing heavy on your heart. What would you do if that was the case? Where would you go? How could you possibly live your life without that fool in it every day?

You felt like collapsing after minutes of searching with no luck. Your body fell against a nearby tree, and you cried. You cried until your throat hurt and your nose was stuffed, hand coming up to wipe away your snot and tears.

What am I gonna tell Jack and Abigail?

Something cracked, a branch maybe, and your head shot up at the sound. You pushed yourself off the tree, quickly making your way towards the sound and-

“Oh my, god!”

There John was, collapsed against a tree trunk and gripping his shoulder, blood soaking his shirt. You were in front of him in the blink of an eye, kneeling on the dirt and tearing the sleeve off your shirt. He looked so out of it. His eyes were shut tightly as he let out occasional groans from the pain, but you were just glad that he was alive. You were quick to patch up his wound the best you could, taking a half full health cure out of your satchel and urging him to drink it. He coughed as it went down.

“Are you real?”

Your hands paused, and you looked at his face. God, he looked exhausted. With a smile, you reached a hand up and brushed his hair behind his ear, palm resting against his cheek. Your heart ached for John. He had been through so much, and there was nothing you could do to change the fact that the man who had taken him in when he was just a kid, the man who was supposed to protect him, had left him for dead. You couldn't take his pain away, couldn’t say or do anything that would change what happened to him. The fact that you couldn’t keep him from hurting, it killed you.

When you kissed him, it was gentle at first, but grew more desperate when it finally sunk in that he was actually alive. He was here, with you. You pulled away with a shaky breath, lips pressed together in a sad smile.

“You think this is Heaven, Marston?”

He gave you that boyish grin, hand falling on your thigh and squeezing. “It’s certainly Heaven if you’re here, Darlin’.”

It caught you off guard how sweet he could be with a bullet lodged in him, and you laughed before kissing him again. His face was held so gently in your hands, like you might break him if you moved too suddenly or kissed him too hard. That gentleness was thrown out the window when he hauled you into his lap, letting out a noise of protest against his lips.

“John- you're hurt.”

He buried his face in your neck, his stubble tickling as he trailed featherlight kisses over your skin.

“I thought I’d never see you again. Grant a dying man his last wish.”

“You’re not dying, John.”

“Almost.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling his face away from your neck with a smile before softly connecting your lips again. And again. And again. He chased your lips when you pulled away. He just didn’t want you getting away from him, it seemed.

“You scare me like that again, and I’ll put you in the ground myself. You got it, Marston?”

He just smiled, not paying attention to anything but your lips as he leaned in again. “Whatever you say.”

While you got to share one small, blissful moment with John now, you couldn’t imagine how things would unravel once you both got back to camp and faced Dutch with the man he claimed was dead.

Christ, it was fucking hot. The sun beat down on you as you carried hay into the horse's stall, setting it down with a grunt before taking off your glove and wiping the back of your hand over your sweaty forehead. You couldn’t wait for a nice, long bath.

Maybe a certain someone would consider taking one with you.

You quickly shook your head at the thought, slapping at your cheeks a few times as you felt them heat up.

“Should I be concerned as to why you’re hittin’ yourself?”

You gasped and spun around at the sudden voice, glaring at Arthur’s smug expression.

“Jesus, way to give someone a freaking heart attack,” you muttered, thwacking your glove against his chest as you passed him. He just shrugged with a small chuckle, following after you.

“You make it too easy, kid.”

You hummed, picking up another bail of hay and thrusting it towards him. He quickly grabbed onto it with a quiet grunt. “You gonna help out or stand around torturin’ me?”

“Hey, you wanna talk to someone about pulling their weight, go harass Uncle.”

“Oh, I have plans for him,” you said, hands placed on your hips as you gave Arthur a knowing smirk.

“Well, I can’t wait then.”

Your smile grew as you parted ways from him, walking across Beecher's Hope to find Uncle sitting on the porch in his usual shady spot. You couldn’t blame him for wanting to laze around. Work on the ranch was hard sometimes, and on blistering days like today, it could really take all the energy out of you. Except Uncle seemed to never have energy, considering you’d probably see a sasquatch before you ever saw him do any work.

“Hey, old man.” You kicked at his boot, causing him to abruptly stir awake, which he clearly didn’t appreciate.

“What- Aw hell, what do ya want now? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

You raised a brow, crossing your arms over your chest. “Oh, really? Because I could’ve sworn it looked like you were doing nothing!”

“Alright, alright! Christ, you’re just as bad as those two imbeciles,” Uncle said, finally standing from his slumped position against the wood support beam with a dramatic groan.

“Hardly, considering I don’t threaten to gut you in your sleep nearly as much.” Walking towards the barn, you grabbed the pitchfork hanging up and handed it over. “You want some work in the shade? Shovel the horse stalls.”

His gaze frantically shifted from you to the pitchfork, and he shook his head. “Aw, Hell no! You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, so you’re saying you’d rather subject yourself to the mercy Arthur and John are gonna show you?”

Uncle didn’t say anything for a minute, looking at the pitchfork in his hand before grumbling to himself and trudging off, and a satisfied smirk tugged at your lips. Taking off your other glove, you lightly slapped them against your thigh as you made your way towards the corral, kicking up loose dirt in your path.

You caught a glimpse of Jack leaning against a tree with a thick book in his hand and wanted to smile. You remembered when he was just a little boy all those years ago, kicking up a fuss whenever Hosea would sit down with him to read. Now, you couldn’t imagine Jack doing anything else with his free time, his face constantly stuffed in a book, barely paying attention to the world around him. He lifted his head when he felt you staring and gave you a small wave paired with a smile. You returned the gesture, letting him go back to his reading before walking away. Hosea would be proud.

Your thoughts strayed at the thought of the older man, a wave of sadness hitting you as your steps faltered. God, he would’ve loved to see this. His family living a good life, more honest than he ever lived his. You imagined how proud he’d be of everyone, especially Arthur. You could see it day by day, the urge he feels to go back to his old ways like a dog trained. You watched as he fought his thoughts, listened as he expressed his worry of overstaying his welcome.

“You’re family, Arthur. Hell, you’re the reason we’re all here in the first place. You can stay here as long as you’d like.”

The corral was soon in your sights, a slight pep in your step as your beloved horse came into view. Kieran stood beside him, a brush in his hand as he gently patted his neck. Despite mosts original feelings about Kieran, he had become a loved and valued member of your family. He had always tried so hard to fit in with the gang, constantly walking on eggshells or mostly keeping his mouth shut so he didn’t unintentionally piss anyone off. You felt for him. But since coming to Beachers Hope, he seemed more relaxed. Perfectly content as he worked with the horses. There was a light in his eyes you hadn’t seen before, and you wanted to make sure it never went out again.

“How’s he been doing?” you asked, sidling up to both of them.

Kieran smiled at your presence. “He’s been good! Those herbs I gave him yesterday really seem to be helping.”

Orion bumped his nose into your shoulder, and you gently brushed your hand against his forehead with a chuckle. “You’re a lifesaver, Kieran.” The man’s eyes slightly widened at your praise, and he quickly let out a flurry of rushed sentences as his face flushed. You smiled, silencing him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, thank you. You’re really helping us out around here.”

He didn’t say anything, just stood stock still as his eyes roamed your face. He eventually let out a small hum and looked away, resuming brushing the dirt off of Orion’s coat. You let out an amused huff through your nose before leaving Kieran to his own devices. He couldn’t handle the slightest praise if his life depended on it.

“I think you almost gave him a heart attack.”

Charles bumped you with his shoulder, and you let out a hum.

“You should see him when that kind of stuff comes out of Arthur’s mouth. It’s like he’s seen a ghost.”

Charles' deep laugh resonated through your ears and sparked warmth in your chest. You liked it when he was carefree like this. Not skulking around by himself or hiding where no one could find him.

“It’s new for him, too. He looked like a bumbling fool the first time he tried to say something nice to him.”

You snorted, leaning against the fence of the corral and placing your foot on top of the rail. You both watched the animals meander around for a bit, Charles excusing himself to go take care of something. You didn’t really catch the end of what he said when John came into view carrying a bale of hay. You could see the flexed muscles of his arms underneath his shirt, sleeves rolled up and his collar unbuttoned. A bead of sweat rolled down his neck and disappeared under the fabric, and he quickly found your eyes with his own before your thoughts could drift further. You cleared your throat like it would somehow get rid of all the thoughts you were having and climbed the fence, dirt kicking up when you landed on the other side. Setting down the bale, John straightened up and hooked his thumbs into his belt, his lips lifting in a knowing smirk.

“Don’t make me slap you, Marston.”

He laughed, shrugging his shoulders. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah, well you were gonna,” you muttered, fingers slipping underneath the front of his belt and tugging him forward, his chest knocking into yours. He raised a curious eyebrow.

“You running a little hot, sweetheart?”

You scoffed, fist colliding with his shoulder as you pulled away. “Rancher John has gotten a little cocky, I see.”

“And Gunslinger Martson wasn’t?”

“Oh, absolutely not. Gunslinger Marston was a hopeless fool who couldn’t say ‘I love you’ until I was almost dying.”

“I love you.”

Your head spun towards him, brows raised in slight shock. He shrugged.

“You’re not dying now.”

Your lips twitched up in a smile, stepping towards him again and gripping the front of his shirt. “You’re still a hopeless fool.”

He hummed as you slotted your lips against his, hands finding their home on your waist and tugging you closer until your front was pressed up against his. It was too hot to be this close, your clothes sticking uncomfortably to your skin and sweat beading down your forehead. But you couldn’t pay any mind to that when John’s lips and hands felt so nice against you.

“Oh for cryin’ out loud, would you two get a room?” a distant Uncle yelled, and you pulled away from John’s lips. You didn’t move too far though, hands still pressed against his chest.

“Aren’t you supposed to be shoveling horse shit?”

You felt John shake with laughter, and Uncle just mumbled insults to himself as he threw the pitchfork in the dirt and stomped away. “Damn kids. Got no respect for their elders…”

Your head collapsed against John’s chest as you fell into a fit of giggles, his arms looping around you and pulling you close. Fingers curling into his shirt, you looked up and caught his gaze. “You done for the day?”

He nodded, and you pulled back to grab his hand, leading him towards the house. You toed off your muddy boots by the door once inside and laughed when John nearly tripped over his pants. He flicked your arm and walked past you into the bathroom. The door closed behind you with a soft click, and you were already working on the buttons of your shirt as John prepared the bath.

“You wanna try out one of these fancy soaps you bought?” he asked, and you rolled your eyes at the way he said it.

“They are not ‘fancy,’ John.”

“Sure cost us a pretty penny.”

You shrugged your top off, throwing it on the chair in the corner. “Am I not allowed to smell good?”

He scoffed, standing up from the edge of the tub and pulling his shirt out of his pants. “No. I’m saying you smell good regardless of what you use.”

Tilting your head, you stepped into his space and helped him finish unbuttoning, placing small kisses against his chest as you pushed the fabric off his shoulders. Deft fingers slid down his abdomen before reaching his pants, and he let out a soft sigh when you unzipped them.

“Sweetheart, there ain’t gonna be any point to this bath if you keep going.”

Chuckling against his skin, you pulled away to let him finish undressing himself, shedding your own clothes. You dipped your foot into the water and sighed contentedly. It wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t unbearably hot either. Just that perfect middle ground that you could relax in after a long day. Sinking into the tub, you moved up a bit to let John sit behind you. You could practically feel the tension easing from his body when you leaned back against him, his arms lazily thrown around your middle and his nose buried in your hair.

You reminded yourself to thank Arthur for the thousandth time. Absolutely none of this would be possible if not for him. The fact that you were able to just sit and relax without waiting for some treacherous gang or the law to come barging down your door, that you could just simply live, it felt unreal. Jack, that lovely, sweet boy, finally had a bed to sleep in, and could read his books without worrying about moving to a new place again. It all felt like a blissful dream, and you were afraid of waking up any moment. But you would look at John sometimes and he would smile, really smile, and you’d be reminded that this was all real. His touch, his laughter, his love. It was real.

“You can keep buyin’ it, ya’know.”

“Hm?” you hummed, slightly turning your head back.

“The soaps. They smell… nice.”

Your face split into a wide grin as you twisted your body and pressed your lips to his, brushing his greasy hair back from his forehead.

“You’re a fool, John Marston.”

“Only for you, Darlin’. Only for you.”

#John marston x reader #John marston imagine #John marston oneshot #rdr2 imagine #red dead redemption 2 imagine #rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #john marston #jim milton #john marston fanfic #rdr2 fanfic

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wanderinginksplot · 10 months

Text

Commander Stone + "Let's hear your side of the story"

Commander Stone x gn!reader (no use of 'y/n' and no pronouns). Romantic.

Word Count: 2,700

Warnings: an overexcited massiff and some minor awkwardness.

---

Your arm was starting to go numb.

It wasn’t unusual for this type of situation, but it did mean that you would have to wrap things up soon. There was only so long your muscles could withstand that level of strain before you would end up feeling the effect.

“Mo, down!” you ordered, putting as much authority into the command as you could muster. Your massiff - still young enough to have the energy level of a puppy with the muscle mass of a fully-grown adult - fell back on his haunches and retreated to your side. He panted up at you, displaying every ivory tooth he possessed.

“No use in acting sweet now,” you informed him. “Not after you tried to get in that waste bin. There’s nothing in there for you.”

Mo tipped his head to the side and you had to fight against the urge to pat his giant, dumb head. He was cute, but you didn’t want to reward bad behavior.

Besides, that head - and the rest of him - really wasn’t dumb at all. Massiffs were notoriously smart, and Mo was no exception. He liked to pretend he had no idea what was going on, but there was always a reason behind what he did.

In any case, your sternness hadn’t been stern enough, because Mo leaned his head against your thigh and stared adoringly up at you. You lasted until his purple tongue lolled out from his jaw, but then it was just too cute.

You sighed and scratched Mo’s head while his hindquarters wiggled in pleasure. “You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

As if to reinforce your theory that he was smarter than he let on, Mo gave a little whine and panted up at you.

“I know, buddy,” you soothed. “We’re on our way home, I promise.”

Mo followed eagerly when you started back toward your small apartment. Massiffs were on the larger end of apartment-dwelling animals, solidly built with more muscle than most humanoids.

That was helpful in situations such as this, because there was simply no way you would be able to force Mo in a direction he didn’t like.

Mo - apparently deciding to display psychic abilities previously unknown among massiffs - must have read your mind, because he bolted in a direction that was definitely not the one in which you wanted to go. And since you had looped the leash around your hand and all the way up your forearm, you were along for the ride.

Sprinting behind your massiff wasn’t a dignified way to travel through Coruscant, but you couldn’t deny that it was effective. Passers-by mostly dove out of your way, though a few did try to snag Mo’s collar and help you. You could have told them there was no use - catching his collar would only lead to two people being towed behind the excited massiff. As you ran, you worked at the length of leash that held you captive.

After you rounded a corner toward the government sector of Coronet City, you had just a moment to recognize that there was a Coruscant Guard trooper on the sidewalk ahead of you. He had stopped, crimson-painted helmet aimed at you and Mo in apparent curiosity.

“Watch out!” you called as you approached at full speed.

The trooper backed toward the building he was standing beside, but Mo altered course and continued directly toward him. You recognized what was going to happen and continued working to detangle the leash that locked you to the massiff. It was no use. When Mo hit the plastoid-armored figure, you fell with both of them.

“I’m sorry, really,” you apologized frantically. “He’s harmless, just excited. Give me a second and I’ll get him under control. Sorry, please-”

“It’s okay,” the man told you, the pleasant rumble of his voice augmented by the speakers of his helmet. It was a good thing, too, since Mo’s rough tongue was rasping over the plastoid of the trooper’s chest and it made hearing him difficult.

You relaxed slightly at the Guardsman’s assurance. When someone saw an overexcited massiff, they tended to assume the worst. You were hyper-aware of the blaster at the man’s waist. Shooting an animal would be an overreaction, but one moment of panic…

With the buzz of fear receding from your chest, you managed to get your feet under you. When that was accomplished, you pulled sharply at Mo’s lead and coupled it with a command: “Mo, back.”

The massiff pulled a final time with a beseeching look at you, but gave up at your implacable face. He gave a dissatisfied huff and sat back on his haunches, planting his weight on your right foot.

You swiveled around him, offering your free hand to the trooper. That helmet was aimed at you once more, though he didn’t say anything. “Let me help you up.”

“I’m too heavy,” he eventually told you.

“I’m well anchored,” you countered, gesturing to Mo and his place on your foot. With a wiggle of your fingers, you said, “Come on.”

The trooper wrapped a gloved hand around yours and pulled. Admittedly, he was pretty heavy, but not impossible - especially when compared to an excitable massiff.

When the poor man was on his feet, you apologized again. “I really am sorry about that. I don’t know why he was being so bad.”

Mo whined, settling more heavily on your foot. “Yes, Mo, I’m talking about you. You were very bad.”

“Hang on a minute,” the trooper said, reaching up to remove his helmet. When you could see him clearly, you were struck by tanned skin and a strong nose. His hair was cut short, but not short enough to hide the way it would curl if given the opportunity to grow long enough. Most importantly, his eyes were kind and his mouth told of a man who liked to smile more than frown.

Those kind eyes slid to study Mo. “Everyone should get a chance to give an explanation.”

You hesitated, trying to understand. “Even massiffs?”

“Especially massiffs,” he told you. He knelt to fix Mo with a stern look. “Okay, let’s hear your side of the story.”

Mo parted his jaws to pant at the man, giving a loud grumble as his tongue curled.

The Guardsman nodded gravely, glancing up at you. “He makes a convincing argument.”

“He is studying to be a lawyer,” you joked.

“Huh, a massiff of many talents.” The trooper looked back down just in time for Mo to press his muzzle against the man’s chestplate. “Mo, is it? Great name.”

“Nickname,” you corrected automatically, exasperated with yourself a moment later. This man didn’t need to know that.

“Yeah?” he asked anyway. “What’s Mo short for?”

“Motivator Drive,” you answered, voice sheepish. The feeling only intensified when the man gave you a confused look. “He had a lot of energy as a puppy. Like most puppies, actually, but more intense. The vet and I had a joke that he could power a hyperdrive, so I named him Motivator Drive. Mo.”

The trooper chuckled at the shrug that accompanied your explanation. He stood up once more. “I’ve heard worse. Way worse, actually. Some of my brothers would probably be jealous of Mo’s name.”

“Speaking of names,” you started, hoping you weren’t about to cross some kind of line. “What’s yours?”

“Stone,” the man told you. “Commander Stone, Coruscant Guard. And you?”

You gave him your name and he smiled. “Nice to meet you. Here, let me help with this.”

He drew your arm closer and started picking at the hopeless tangle of Mo’s leash. You watched in silence, impressed. Stone had made more progress in ten seconds than you had in a much longer time. Of course, it probably helped that you weren’t running behind Mo anymore.

The moment you were free, Mo jumped up, planting his forepaws on Stone’s torso.

“Mo!” you chided, though it was undermined by the way Stone laughed and scratched under the massiff’s chin. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what is up with him today. He doesn’t normally approach strangers, and he’s never this physical with them.”

“It’s my own fault,” Stone brushed off. “I stopped by the Guard’s massiff training area today. I’m probably covered with all kinds of interesting smells. In fact…”

As you and Mo watched - you with fascination and Mo with a sharp eagerness - Stone reached into a small pouch at the waist of his armor. He pulled out a treat and you tightened your grip on Mo’s lead.

Stone held it up. “Is it okay if Mo has this?”

“Well, he has been very bad today…” you said loudly. Mo whined even louder and you relented. “Fine, I suppose he can have one treat.”

Stone tossed the treat toward Mo, who leapt up to snap it out of the air in his powerful jaws. He was already crunching happily when his paws met the ground once more.

“Were you going that way?” Stone asked, gesturing in the direction Mo had been dragging you.

“No, actually,” you said. “Mo dragged me off course. We’re actually heading the opposite direction. Service sector.”

“Long walk,” Stone commented. “Want some company?”

“If you have the time.” You congratulated yourself on how casual that sounded. You liked what you knew about Stone so far. Walking together would give you some time to decide whether you wanted to push your acquaintanceship further.

“Of course,” he told you. “Besides, I have to be able to step in if Mo decides to get a little wild again.”

“I do pass a few restaurants on my way home,” you admitted. “He’s hungry, and there’s always a chance he’ll decide to try his luck at begging.”

“Well, if Mo is hungry, there’s no time to waste,” Stone decreed. He gestured in the direction of the distant service sector. “Lead on.”

You did so, retracing your steps to where you had been when Mo decided to take you on an adventure. “By any chance, is this the way you walked?”

Stone looked sheepish, but nodded. “Just a few minutes before you caught up with me. Mo has a remarkably good nose.”

“For F-O-O-D?” you asked, chuckling as you spelled out the word. “Absolutely. Anything to do with it, he’s interested in.”

“Even the word?”

“Especially the word,” you confirmed.

“The smartest massiff and he isn’t even part of the ARF department,” Stone shook his head in consternation. “And his full name is Motivator Drive.”

Mo craned his head to look back at Stone, letting out a sharp bark as if in answer.

You laughed. “That was massiff for, ‘Don’t make fun of my name’. You know, in case you aren’t fluent.”

“Apologies, Motivator Drive,” Stone said, pressing a hand to his chestplate. “No disrespect meant. Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t been recruited by the GAR yet.”

“Yet?” you echoed, lifting a brow. “I figured this was going to turn into a job offer.”

Stone just laughed, and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence as you walked.

“So you’re part of the ARF department?” you asked eventually.

“No, I’m not,” Stone told you and you unintentionally did a double-take at him. You had asked the question to make conversation, never expecting to get a negative answer. Stone seemed amused by your confusion, adding, “I’m a commander.”

“I- I guess I don’t know much about how the Coruscant Guard is organized,” you admitted, wincing at your own ignorance. Admittedly, it didn’t come up very often, but it was still something you felt you should have known.

“Oh, that’s easy!” Stone assured you. He then launched into a detailed explanation so full of titles and military slang that you could even begin to understand it. But Stone looked so earnest that you couldn’t help but try to look interested.

In the meantime, you checked in with yourself. You liked Stone, but did you like him? Coruscant was the most densely populated planet in the known galaxy and Coronet City was incomprehensibly massive. Even if you were looking for each other, there were good odds that you and Stone wouldn’t run into each other again unless you planned to do so.

Yes, you decided, you did like him. More than that, you trusted him. When was the last time you met someone you trusted? It had been far too long. And yet you hadn’t hesitated a moment when agreeing to - among other things - let Stone see where you lived.

“Does that clear things up?” Stone asked.

After you took a moment to see whether he was joking, you offered a self-deprecating smile. “Uh, not really. But I definitely understand that you’re not an ARF trooper, so that’s something.”

“Not an ARF,” he confirmed, returning your smile.

“In that case, what were you doing with the GAR’s massiffs?”

“Well, you know better than most people that massiffs are energetic and curious,” Stone started, aiming his smile at Mo for a second before directing it back your way. “They get bored in the kennels, even with all of their toys and the focus on training exercises. We’re encouraged to stop by and spend some time with them if we can.”

“Training, toys, and attention?” You shook your head. “That sounds like massiff heaven. I feel like Mo needs something to focus on or he ends up getting destructive.”

“How does that work when you’re not home?” Stone asked.

You shrugged. “Most of my furniture has teeth marks on it. When I’m not at my apartment, he’s alone. He does well, all things considered, but if I work late, I know I’m coming home to find at least one thing destroyed.”

“You don’t have a…” Stone hesitated and you tried not to smile. This part of a meeting was always awkward, but it seemed like Stone was at least a little interested in seeing more of you. Eventually, he settled on: “Any friends who can drop by to see him?”

“My friends all work,” you told him. “You know how it is.”

“I do,” he admitted. “But with all of the different shifts, it seems like there’s always someone in the GAR barracks.”

And there was the opening you had been hoping for. “Sounds like a difficult place to sleep. Don’t you have anywhere else to stay?”

“Of course,” Stone told you, and you struggled to keep your expression neutral. “But I doubt it would be any easier to sleep in the Guard headquarters.”

The hope rekindled in your chest. It certainly sounded as if Stone wasn’t seeing anyone. You gave a light hum. “I imagine it wouldn’t. Funny, it seems like we have opposite problems.”

“Isn’t that how it always goes?” Stone joked, nodding at another Coruscant Guard trooper you passed.

You were getting close to the service sector, and your apartment was on the closer edge. If you were going to propose seeing Stone again, this was probably the best time. Later would make it too rushed, but you were close enough that - if he said no - any awkwardness wouldn’t last long.

“Is there any chance-”

“Do you want to hang out sometime?”

Stone blinked at you. Dimly, you recognized that he had been in the middle of a sentence when you interrupted. You pushed aside the sheepishness and held eye contact with him as you waited for an answer.

“Would you believe me if I said I was asking the same thing?” Stone asked.

“Really?”

He nodded. “I mean, I was going to call it a date, but I don’t mind being more casual if that’s what you want.”

“Casual with the option for a real date sounds good to me,” you told him. “Any ideas on what we should do?”

Stone thought for a moment. “Give me a day or two to work out the details, but I think I can sneak us into the massiff kennels. If you’re interested?”

“Interested in being surrounded by massiffs?” you clarified. “Incredibly.”

“Then let’s exchange comlink frequencies and I’ll let you know as soon as I have it figured out.”

Mo wasn’t happy about the delay, but you couldn’t stop smiling. Stone seemed to have the same problem.

---

Author's Note - This one-shot was inspired by the person whose overly excited pit bull slipped his leash and ran at me full speed while she repeated over and over that he was friendly. Luckily, I've been around dogs often enough to know an excited dog from an angry one and caught him. We had a lovely chat and I got to pet an adorable pit bull, so it was a good time!

And I dearly love Stone! This story may have made more sense if it centered on Hound, but I figure no one can work with Hound and not learn to appreciate massiffs at least a little bit. Anyway, thanks for reading!

You can sign up for my taglist here or find other works on my masterlist.

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#star wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars fanfiction #reader insert #reader insert fic #coruscant guard #commander stone #stone #stone x reader #stone x you #ink's fics #clone troopers deserve better

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