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55sturn · 11 months ago

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✮ SAYIN’ SORRY FOR THAT NIGHT

series masterlist!

paring: boston bruins player!chris sturniolo x fem!reader!

synopsis: in which y/n is greeted by a sudden revelation on the night of chris’ most anticipated game, the one that determines whether or not the bruins get into the playoffs and she’s left apologizing for the night that caused it all.

warnings: swearing, fluff, mentions and descriptions of violent fights, verbal arguments, unplanned pregnancy, discussion of abortions, comments from the other team and hecklers, open ending, angst, angst, angst, and more angst.

THIRD PERSON POV

to be in the limelight alone is tough. to be in it for something such a hockey, where a million and one eyes are watching your every move, scrutinizing every play you make, every workout you do to toughen your body and build your endurance for the tasking time spent on the ice is even tougher, but to do all of that with a public relationship is the toughest thing.

chris knew that announcing his relationship at the peak of his career with the boston bruins was not going to be easy. he had all eyes on him as the bruins' newest right winger, but not only was he the newest player, he was also the youngest to join in years.

just like connor mcdavid's rise to fame with the edmonton oilers, chris was in the spotlight and it wasn't easy. he was in the spotlight because he was a phenomenal player with a chipper attitude that most hockey players don't seem to have. he had been scouted at one of his toughest games in his college career and almost immediately the contracts began flowing and the drafting process had started.

as eyes of everyone involved in the hockey world began to shift to the star of what they called "the boston bruins' new era and future captain", so did the female attention. not only was chris good at what he did, but he was insanely good looking, at least to the younger female demographic that had taken an interest in hockey.

but he didn't care for the, for a lack of a better name, puck bunnies or the future hockey wives in training, he had his own hockey wife sitting front row in the v.i.p section at every game, smiling as she watched him zip back and forth between his teammates and the teammates that he was facing

as he announced who the mystery girl in his practice jersey at every game was, he faced an onslaught of even more hate disguised as criticism and scrutiny from devout bruins fans, potential drafting scouts, and anyone willing to spare an opinion. but as the rather distasteful comments rolled in, his skin grew thicker, because as long as he had her to go home to, he could handle it.

PRESENT TIME

chris sat on the bench in the hallway adorning the infamous bruins logos, each brick in the wall holding some sort of history of the team, twirling tape around the blade of his stick. he found the dressing room too stuffy right before a game, so he and john beecher sat outside the dressing room, joking amongst themselves as they prepared for the game.

"cmon man, you played big games before you'll be fine." john chuckled, handing chris back his spare roll of stick tape as chris sighed.

"i know, it's just a big fuckin' game tonight. haven't played montreal yet."

"wait this is your first game against montreal?"

"yes and as a boston native, i know this is the game, just don't wanna fuck up when this decides whether or not we make it to playoffs."

"kid you'll be fine, you've outdone mcdavid's first year and that's pretty fuckin' bizarre 'cause he's a powerhouse." beecher reassured, clapping the young right winger on the shoulder before heading back to the dressing room. chris stared at the wall across, still struggling to comprehend how his life has become the way it is, he's incredibly grateful for the opportunities he's gotten and proud of the work he's put in, it's just still hard to fathom.

sensing that she should give her boyfriend a quick visit before he went on to the ice, y/n made her way through the crowds of people, smiling at the fans that addressed her, politely declining to take pictures until after the game. she proudly donned a large "8" and the name "STURNIOLO" scrawled across the back of a black away-game jersey and black jeans and her trusty, yet dirty, air forces, proudly showing her support for the man she's loved for six years, since she was a small fourteen year old navigating her year of high school with the triplets by her side.

the thin plastic stick weighed heavy in the pocket of her hoodie she wore beneath the jersey, she was about to tell chris about it, to give him a little motivation to play extra hard. but when she spotted the reporter’s mic pointed toward his helmet covered face, she placed that idea on the back burner. smiling she approached chris,

“hey mister big shot.” she laughed, causing chris to grin as he introduced her to the reported as his girlfriend. the reporter quickly bid the couple goodbye, leaving them to have their moment together.

“hey so i’ve got some really good news for you.” y/n smiled, smoothing her hands over his shoulder pads as he tugged off his helmet, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips.

“listen i wanna go be apart of the chant so i need to go, can this news wait?”

“i guess so. give ‘em hell baby, i love you.”

“always ma, i love you.” chris replied, bouncing on his skates slightly before shoving his helmet back on, quickly shoving his way through the door leading to short hallway his team would walk through.

y/n stared at his back, watching him fade away as she was left to mull over the news she was about to tell chris. it was the start of his career and she didn’t want to derail it any, so the choice between telling him now or tell him in a month waged a violent war in her mind.

shaking her head, she made her way back to the staircase leading to the v.i.p section, as she wove through crowds of people, she heard the gasps and murmurs.

“that’s who the new bruins guy is dating? i won’t be shocked when he starts fucking the puck sluts in a month.”

“she looks out of place and that jersey is so unflattering on her.”

“i hope sturniolo comes to his senses and dumps her ass soon.”

scoffing, y/n climbed the stairs, pushing the overwhelmingly upsetting thoughts from her mind as she spotted nick and matt in their seats. breaking the news to someone was imperative to her, not telling someone would break her but she didn’t know whether she should tell someone before chris.

of course she and chris had talked about their views on starting a family together and the idea of raising a baby together but there was one issue,

chris wanted to wait until secured a long term contract with the bruins. he didn’t want anything to deter his plans. and y/n understood, he has worked so unbelievably hard to get to the position he’s in now. starting a family takes a lot of dedication, time, effort, and devotion without distractions. chris was concerned that if they had a baby early on in his professional hockey career, she’d be left alone to carry out so many of the responsibilities that being a parent brought on.

so as y/n made her way to her designated seat, her heart felt heavy. her doubts only grew with every step she took, and it felt like her body had been held down, it was as if she had cinder blocks chained to her ankles. as she sat beside nick, he picked up on her mood, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that sonething was bothering her though. nick bumped her elbow with his, as if to ask what’s wrong and she just smiled and shook her head.

mary-lou, who was sat behind y/n and her three sons, immediately knew what was going on. y/n had a certain glow to her, despite the sorrowful look that had become deeply etched into her skin. she knew that pained expression anywhere, she understood what the taut shoulders, pinched eyebrows, and distraught gleam in her eyes all too well. but the older woman put her excitement about becoming a grandmother off to the side, deciding she’d wait to gloat until y/n had accepted the idea her self.

the family conversed among themselves while the teams prepared to saunter out onto the ice, letting the fans get hyped up. a voice boomed from above, prompting cheers and hollers from the people taking up the stands.

“please welcome your home team, the boston bruins!” the commentator exclaimed, dragging out the words boston bruins in typical emcee fashion, allowing the fans and supporters chant for their team as he played the bruins’ intro song as they skated onto the ice one by one, the emcee announcing the names and numbers above the music.

y/n couldn’t help but lett the pride and excitement she felt show brightly on her face, despite the worries she suffered deep down. she was so incredibly proud of chris, him landing a secure spot on the bruins was a long time coming. it was his dream back in high school the moment he secured a spot on his high school’s team with ease. he was a natural born hockey player and it showed through the surplus of dedication he put into it. and y/n felt more than lucky to be there on the sidelines from the very beginning.

as the emcee asked from everyone to stand for the national anthem, a cheesy grin broke out on her face as chris stood on the offensive line facing the vip box, and pointed up to where he knew she’d be sitting before forming his hand into the best half heart possible that his bulky gloves would allow. she felt her cheeks warm with a deep blush as chris’ family playfully teased her for having their brother and son completely and unfalteringly whipped.

“shut up!” she laughed, her nerves drifting away as the game started. the excitement she never failed to feel at every single one of chris’ games, whether it was just him filling in for the local adult men’s teams or an exhibition game for his old college team, she was always filled with adrenaline as she stood and sat in the stands.

but that was expected when born into a city that favours the winter sport, you were either born with the excitement coursing through your veins or you were born with a deep hatred for it filling every crevice of your body. there was no in between.

y/n cheered along with chris’ family as he zipped, swerved, bobbed, and weaved up and down the ice. that was one thing that most players envied chris for, he was fast and slick, almost as if he was water slipping through your fingers.

and not only was he fast, he held great control over the puck as she moved down the ice, the puck never got away from him as he maneuvered it between players, alternating which side his stick was covering and pushing it.

there was fifteen seconds left in the second period and both montreal and boston held three goals each as chris stood for a moment back checking as his teammates guarding him, and with five seconds ticking down, he delivered a brutal slap shot, sending the puck into the net behind carey price who had dropped to block it a second too late.

the bruins fans’ side of the stands erupted in loud cheers, and so did y/n and chris’ family, his parents laughing giddily as matt made a backhanded comment about price being too old for goaltending.

“i will be right back, i have to use the washroom.” y/n interjects, letting nick know where she’d while the rest of them grabbed drinks.

“yo y/n, you drink budlight right?” justin hums, causing her stomach to drop, her usual habit of having a beer with them at chris’ games being something she hadn’t even considered.

“uh can you just grab me an iced tea? i’ve got an early appointment tomorrow and i’d rather not show up at my doctor’s smelling like beer.” she laughs nervously, causing justin to shrug and accept her answer before heading off to the concession stand near the entrance of the vip box.

“i’ll come with you, i’ve got to use the ladie’s room too.” mary-lou hums, smiling appreciatively as y/n waited for her.

however as they made their way to back of the section they were sitting in, mary-lou motioned for y/n to follow her out into the small hallway that lead to the smoking doors, it was empty as the two stood there.

“how far along are you?” mary-lou whispers, unable to withhold her suspicions any longer, and the abrupt question had y/n’s stomach twisting into more knots than it was already in.

“wha-how did you figure it out?”

“i’ve had my suspicions for a while, the last time you were over i heard you throwing up, and you’ve got the pregnancy glow. plus you’ve been wearing baggy clothes and you aren’t drinking tonight.”

“fuck. sorry for my language. but i think i’m about two and a half months along. last month i just thought my period was late because i was sick and when i get sick, my period is normally late. but then i missed this month’s too and it clicked.”

“have you told chris yet?” mary-lou spoke, her voice soft as she rest a reassuring hand on her future daughter in law’s arm as she shook her head.

“i wanted to tell him before the game, to give him a little motive to play harder but he didn’t want to miss the chant and pep talk so he left before i could say anything about it. i’ve got the test in my pocket and i know it’s not smart to go off just one test so that’s why i’m going to the doctor tomorrow.”

“well i think you should tell him, i think he’ll be happy.”

“that’s what i’m worried about, he wanted to wait until he secured a long term contract. we had this conversation about a month ago.”

“you can’t necessarily control these things. a family comes to be when it’s meant to happen, not when you want it to happen.”

mary-lou’s words stuck deep in y/n’s mind. she knew that chris’ mother was right. y/n had just wished her and chris were a bit more careful that drunken night in the hotel.

FLASHBACK

chris and y/n’s drunken giggles bounced off the walls as they pushed their way into their room. they had gone out for dinner with the team and eventually broke off on their own after swiping two of the complementary bottles of champagne that the teams managers had provided.

they stumbled through the city after hiding in an empty room in the banquet hall, chugging the nasty liquor as quick as they could handle on empty stomachs.

“god baby, you look so pretty in this dress, just wanna tear it off you.” chris rasped, his cheeks flushing and eyes drooping, from the alcohol, or the effect his girlfriend had on him, or maybe even both, she wasn’t quite sure. making him look all the more enticing to y/n.

“do it then.” y/n slurred back, pulling chris into a messy, sloppy, yet incredibly hot, like searingly hot, make out, chris’ hands roamed her body feverishly, unable to stay in one place very long.

as their ministration progressed, so did their desire for one another and the lingering buzz they had from the alcohol left room for a few less than sound decisions. chris drunkenly justified going in raw by saying “just wanna feel as close to you as possible.” and that was all the convincing y/n needed, but she made him promise to pull out in time.

but due to their inebriation, chris wasn’t quick enough but they had long forgotten it by the time morning came.

FLASHBACK OVER

and now she was paying the price for them being reckless. sighing, she made her way back to her seat just as the intermission ended and chris' team made their way back to the home bench, their net switching back to the end they started out on.

it wasn't too far into the third period when the canadiens were getting aggressive, the score was eight to five in favour of boston and montreal was getting mad that they were losing the game, the most awaited game since it was announced boston and montreal would be facing each other to land a bracket in the playoffs.

the fact that it was also playoff season made y/n's stomach twist even tighter, she felt sick. she was so scared she was going to fuck up chris' life plan and she couldn't bear that idea.

but her current worries were thrown on the back burner when she watched a much bigger player from montreal's team check chris, sending him flying back against the ice, his head ricocheting off the ice, leaving chris laying flat on the ice.

chris' coach calls a time-out while paramedics quickly make their way onto the ice, carrying chris off the ice, and before y/n could react, she was pushing her way through the bustling crowd and stomping down the stairs, quickly sprinting to chris' change room.

"i'm sorry ma'am but you can't be in here."

"i'm his fiance." y/n spits, pushing her way into the change room, immediately rushing to chris, raising her hand to play with his hair, pausing momentarily to silently ask for permission which was granted by him leaning into her touch.

"we're okay, if anything happens, we'll call for you." chris rasps, waving away the paramedics, sighing sadly after being told he's not allowed back on the ice for the rest of the game to prevent being knocked around again because he was highly vulnerable to getting a concussion right now.

"tell me something to distract me, baby." chris whispers, pulling y/n into his lap, the bulky padding beneath her feeling foreign as she leans her head on his shoulder.

"i'm not sure what to talk about." she laughs as he rubs his hand back and forth along her thigh.

"your news from earlier."

"oh." she squeaks, her voice almost inaudible as she realizes that it's now or never. sighing, she grabs the test out of her pocket from beneath the spare jersey she wore, placing it into chris' hand with a heartbroken expression and timid voice,

"we're pregnant, chris."

taglist: @dylsdunbar @verosivy @soursturniolo @4sturns @sturnsclutter @spencerstits @meanttomeet @bluesturniolo333 @graciereid @abbie13sworld @ghostofbrock @l9vesick @mylifeisevenstranger @bethsturn @ifilwtmfc @themattgirl @lovingmattysposts @lacysturniolo @freshsturns @forevergirlposts @sturniolo-fav-matt @cupidsword @strawberrysturniolo @lustfulslxt @sturnifyed @carolsturns1 @teapartyprincess4two @mangosrar @querenciasturniolo @pinklittleflower @cutenote @ellie-luvsfics

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hihomeghere · 5 months ago

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Here is my collection of Red Dead Redemption fics! I hope you enjoy! All of my fics are f!reader if not specifically mentioned

Smut 💋, Fluff 🪽, Angst 🗯️

Rdr2 Boyfriend vibes

John Marston

Burning Love Set in the epilogue of RDR2. You stumble upon John in Blackwater after being alone for years. When he invites you to visit Beecher's Hope, will you be able to fight feelings that have been building ever since you were kids? 🪽💋

Gloves John goes crazy over you dressed up for a job, more specifically your white gloves 🪽💋

Based off an ask 💋

Right Person, Wrong Time You and John have constantly been at each other's throats until you left the gang after he chose Abigail over you. When you return you find him gone, leaving Abigail and Jack. You create a relationship with Abigail and Jack, but what will happen when John returns? 🗯️💋

Part Two of Right Person, Wrong Time

Arthur Morgan

Fakin' It After a botched robbery, Arthur and you take refuge in a hotel, hiding from the O'Driscolls outside your door. When they do decide to search for you two, how will you throw them off your track? 💋

Fishing in the Dark You and Arthur have a private evening away from camp on the Dakota river. 🪽💋

Dreams Arthur starts having dreams of starting a family with you 🪽

My Eyes Only Arthur thinks you look like a work of art 🪽

Salt and Pepper Arthur notices his hair is starting to gray 🪽

Deserving. 6. I won't let anything happen to you, I swear. 34. I think you're showing. 36. You're glowing. 41. The baby loves hearing you sing/speak. 83. Was that a kick? 🪽

Blue Ain't Your Color Loosely based on the song, Blue Ain't Your Color 🪽

Little Things Arthur returns from a successful job and wants nothing more than to bury himself in you 💋

Prompts : #30 I just want to be yours. #50 We need to talk about last night 💋

First time : You want Arthur to be the one to take your virginity, you just dont want to tell him💋

Baptized by Fire, Arthur Morgan x Reader x Charles Smith

Series masterlist

Charles Smith

Knight in Shining Armor 1. "Kiss me" "What-", 81. "Your heart is racing." 🪽💋

Prompts : 12 "You look so much softer, so much calmer, I wish you could see yourself as you sleep."13"Sleeping with you was the best sleep I've gotten in years." 54“Here, take my blanket.”55 “You’re cute when you smile, you should do it more often.” 61 “I said I’d take care of you.” 🪽

Desperado Set four months after Charles leaves with the Wapiti. You and Charles try to figure out what to do after the gang falls apart. Comfort fic 🪽

Javier Escuella

Prompt : #19 You're leaving now? 🗯️

Kieran Duffy

Prompt : #66 Were you touching yourself? 💋

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #john marston #javier escuella #charles smith #kieran duffy #arthur morgan x reader #john marston x reader #charles smith x reader #javier escuella x reader #kieran duffy x reader #hihomeghere #masterlist #rdr2 x reader

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adnauseum11 · 11 months ago

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Bottom Line Up Front (John Price x Reader)

Kate updates John on what her reconnaissance has uncovered.

1k words

CW: swearing, allusion to past sexual assault

feedback welcome!

Kate checks the incoming number on her ringing cell before swiveling away from her computer screen and answering. Her favourite current retiree is checking in, right on schedule, saving her a call.

“John, how are things?”

“Alright Kate, any news there?” John asks, paused at a stop light after dropping his love off at work.

“Yeah, actually. Let’s start with if you’re aware that there’s a photo of you and your lady on the internet, shall we?”

Kate asks, already knowing the answer.

“What?”

It gets John’s full attention. He’s navigating back to his love’s place, and nearly misses his turn at Kate’s revelation.

“Yeah, were you at a pub recently?”

“A few.” John stays cagey, unused to his habits off duty being under a microscope.

“Well, there is one over on Beecher’s Lane using a photo of you and a woman to advertise online.”

“Ah Christ, I knew that was trouble. She does trivia nights with her mates there.” He says by way of explanation.

He leaves out the part about her triumphant face at finally making it on to the leader board swaying his better judgement about the photo. Years of scrupulous image control to maintain his professionalism undone a few months into dating. Bloody hell.

“Well, they scanned it and posted it up. I can see why though, she’s very pretty. Well done, John. I can see why you kept her to yourself.”

“Alright, easy, you’re happily married Kate.”

John reminds her, a wave of possessiveness sweeping through him.

“Yeah, married but not dead.”

“She’s spoken for.” John growls, navigating a roundabout while Kate irritates him from afar.

“Obviously. I did some digging on my end on the name you gave. It’s come back with some colourful info. He’s ex-army, dishonorable discharged for sexual assault years ago. He’s done contract work in the past; one was with some of Col. Norris’ men. Ring any bells on that name?”

John’s processing as he drives, a sinking feeling in his gut.

“Of course, you think there’s more of a connection there?”

John’s memory of threatening the Colonel is clear as day, although it had been years and a long road since that incident. The mention of sexual assault has him tightening his grip on the steering wheel unconsciously.

“Norris is involved in the contract you turned down, that Gaz is on right now. Not sure yet, it is unusual that there would be a connection for a random B&E. I’m going to keep poking around. Certainly, it feels off. Your instincts remain sound, Captain.” Kate acknowledges John’s talent for uncovering bullshit.

John hums, internally thankful he’s already on his way to his love’s place to poke around and doubly grateful he turned down the contract weeks ago. He adds stopping by the pub to his list of errands.

“He didn’t put up much of a fight when I got there. You say he’s ex-army?”

“Well, personally, I think your reputation may have preceded you. If connection to you is what brought attention on her, they’d be looking to confirm they have the right woman, not rob her. He likely would have known you on sight, probably chose the best course of action to preserve his neck in the moment when the wrong person turned up.”

John’s blood runs cold as he pulls into his love's driveway. He idles in the car, staring at the door and the busted doorhandle, still unfixed, as dread sits like lead in his stomach. John’s done too much to be naïve to the potential outcomes.

“You think someone wants to leverage her against me? Norris?” John’s putting the information together quickly, following instincts.

“Maybe. You’ve certainly given him no reason to like you, and he could be harbouring a grudge for the way his men were treated. He’s got an ego and a chip on his shoulder. Like I said, I’m going to keep flipping stones. There’s nothing solid there yet.”

John sighs, scratching his cheek before replying.

“Alright, thanks Kate. I’d hate to be right on this, but better to get ahead of it. Maybe let Gaz know something is up, if it’s connection to me they’re after. Better safe than sorry.”

“Already in motion. In the meantime, it goes without saying that I would encourage you to keep her away from the apartment.”

Kate swivels back to her computer, a notification blinking in the bottom corner.

“She won’t be going back. She’s moving out.”

“You found a place that quickly? Impressive, John.”

Kate’s tone is vaguely distracted as she reads the incoming message.

“She’s moved in with me.”

There’s a pregnant pause on the other end of the line for a moment. John has a feeling he has her full attention once again.

“Well, I suppose that makes sense, but that’s moving faster than I would have expected from a bachelor like yourself, Captain. What’s next, going to marry her before spring rolls around?”

John presses his lips together in exasperation. Kate is teasing but there’s a vein of incredulity running underneath her comments that John can hear. He can’t totally blame her; this part of his life had been strictly off-limits. For the exact reason unfolding now, to his immense frustration. From the outside looking in, it would look like sudden madness, he’s sure. On some level, he wonders if it is, a man like him trying to retire into a normal life.

“I don’t need time to get to know her Kate, I’ve known her forever.” John reminds her. “Christ, you’re making me miss dealing with Simon. He doesn’t ask this many questions.”

“Who do you think found the photo, John?”

He finally turns the car off, exhaling into the phone.

“Jesus Christ, Kate.”

“He was concerned that you were slipping, letting that get posted. He’ll be relieved to know you sniffed this out.”

“Him and I both. Keep me posted on what else you find.”

John’s back to giving orders he’s no longer got any business giving and Kate humours him, the stress in his voice evident to her long-trained ear.

“Rog that, John. You keep yourselves safe until we get more details.”

Next Chapter

Tag list:

@deadbranch @beebeechaos @cadotoast @syoddeye @writeforfandoms @itr-00 @chloepluto1306 @batw3nch

#fanfic #call of duty #captain john price #john price x reader #john price cod #john price #friends to lovers #john price x f!reader #john price x you #captain price #kate laswell #reconnaissance

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6emo6zombie6 · 1 year ago

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heyyyy!! I was wondering if you could write about adult Jack Marston with a fem reader who is reserved, and quiet? Abigail and John are alive and Jack invites her over to beechers hope for dinner with his parents, can you write about each of their perspectives on her? (like what they think about her, her personality, etc.)

also, I wanted to thank you so much for you answering my other requests, youre such a good writer like AHH <33.

Hiii!!! I hope this is what you had in mind, had a little delay again because of school stuff ;(

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The lion and the lamb ~~~~~ Jack Marston x reader

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“And… you’re sure they’ll approve of me?” You asked for what seemed like the millionth time to Jack. You’d agreed to let him pick you up to formally introduce you to his parents and have dinner with them. Your anxiety had started to peak once Jack rode the two of you onto Beecher’s Hope, the house in the middle of the plot nearing.

“Yes,” Jack answered with a soft sigh. “I’m sure they will, my sweet. Nothin’ to worry about, okay?”

“Okay,” You nodded to yourself, chewing on your lip as you held onto Jack.

It wasn’t long before his horse came to a stop in front of the house. He got off with a swift motion, then helped you off like a true gentleman. You fixed your dress before walking up toward the porch, Jack’s mother and father already standing on it.

His mother looked like a sweet, yet somewhat stern woman, beautiful as can be. His father looked as rugged as him, their faces nearly identical.

Jack promptly introduced the three of you.

“This is my mother, Abigail—and my father, John.”

You gave a soft nod, shaking their hands before engaging in small talk.

Abigail was surprised at how soft and proper you spoke, not to mention the nice dress that made you look overdressed next to Jack. She wondered how a gentle soul such as you had been able to tame her rugged, gunslinger of a son.

Besides that, she was also intimidated, though not showing her worry as she spoke. You looked well-mannered and rich—her ranch must be a dump compared to the place you lived in. Even in her nicest evening wear she looked like a pawn next to you.

John, on the other hand, was proud of his son for finding a girl so gentle. He’d always been afraid of his son falling back in with the wrong people, that life was no longer one he wished to pursue. Jack looked more than happy to be with you, and somehow you had managed to break down his walls.

“Well,” Abigail broke a short silence, taking a last peek at your attire. “Let's head inside, then. Dinner’s cookin��.”

You glanced at Jack as he led you inside, the house smelling like leather and wood.

“You two can sit,” Abigail smiled, walking along the hallway to prepare the food. John stood in the living room, his hand resting on his gun belt awkwardly. He looked at the hallway in search of his wife, clearing his throat when he realized she wasn’t there.

“So,” He began, taking a seat at the table together with you and Jack. He sat opposite of you. “Jack treatin’ you right?”

Obviously, John was concerned about whether or not his son was treating his girlfriend decently. He wasn’t raised to think differently.

You blush softly.

“Yes, sir.” You nod, glancing at Jack.

“Good, good.” He nodded. “If that boy ever hurts you, you come to me, alright?” John could tell you were a frigid girl, someone he never expected to be with his son. He felt an overwhelming urge to protect you, the same urge you knew from Jack. He seemed to always be protecting you from other people, always treating you like you were about to break in his hands.

Jack gave his father a quick, slightly annoyed glance. John didn’t notice the glance, he was too busy inspecting you and trying to read you. You were a tad mysterious and hard to predict, seeing as you were so quiet and awkward, though you seemed to be at ease at the same time.

A few moments went by in silence before Abigail walked into the main area of the house, carrying two plates of stew. She placed the two plates in front of you and Jack before walking back to the kitchen to grab a plate for John and herself. She sat down at the table with a somewhat pensive expression.

“Thank you,” You smiled softly. Abigail couldn’t read whether or not you were truly thankful or just polite, but she smiled back anyway, going with the former for her comfort.

“Well then, dig in,” She said in a high-pitched tone, straightening her back as she scooped a spoonful of stew in her mouth.

“So,” She spoke up amidst the scraping of spoons, looking at you as you properly scooped away from yourself and blew at your food. “Tell us about yourself--what are your parents like?”

You take a quick bite before talking. Your voice was soft as you grew slightly anxious, three pairs of eyes fixed on you. “My mother’s a fine young woman,” you spoke positively, seeming to cheer up at the thought of your mother. “Daddy left us when I was just a girl… left me and momma with little money.” You spoke softly, failing to look either of Jack’s parents in the eye.

“But you’re uh… financially stable, as of now?” John asked, not aware of how rude of a question it was. You caught a glimpse of Abigail nudging her husband, making him shoot a confused glance at her, then at you.

“Uhm,” You blush, not entirely sure if that was an appropriate matter to discuss over dinner. Maybe it was, you weren’t usually all too social.

“We—we aren’t all that rich,” You stated sheepishly, taking another bite of your food.

Abigail gave a confused glance, though her face became neutral again as she realized her expression was slightly rude. She could’ve sworn you were a rich girl, she’d already imagined you living on some plantation with your family.

You caught her glance just in time, knowing she was puzzled by how you looked like you were part of a higher social class than she and her family were.

You smile softly, looking down with a blush.

“My momma’s very concerned with looking proper…” You mumble, shrugging lightly. “We ain’t got much to spend but she likes us to look like we do.”

“hm,” Abigail hummed, her expression softening now that she felt less pressured to impress you. Part of her wanted her son to marry into a rich family, but the part that wanted him to simply be happy had the upper hand.

“You’re a fine young lady,” She smiled, a genuine, sweet smile spreading across her cheeks. “My boy could use a well-mannered girl such as yourself.”

Abigail saw herself In you in a way; a young, slightly lost girl who’d somehow gotten herself mingled in the trance of a gunslinger. She could tell you were tough behind all the layers of shy, polite mannerisms. In a way, you were much like her son, yet the opposite.

��what is it you… uh—do in your free time?” John asked. He didn’t care about your answer, but he felt that he should know you well before you married his son, as one should. He was almost certain you were the one for his boy, the two of you could learn a lot from one another.

“I help my momma with chores,” You reply, shrugging softly as you realize you actually had little free time, all your time away from home and work was when you were together with Jack. “I don’t got much free time, me and momma both work since there ain’t no man in the house.”

John knew you left out the part where you hung out with Jack all the time. He was aware his son wasn’t always helping around the ranch, and he always came back smelling faintly of ladies’ perfume. He saw no harm in it, though. He knew you were safe with Jack.

“I admire that,” Abigail smiled, somewhat impressed. She didn’t know many women who worked to support the family. If you were to stay at their ranch, she was sure you were more than capable of helping out.

You smiled back and looked at your plate as you started to blush. You weren’t very used to getting compliments or praise from anyone other than Jack, even if he was stubborn and generally not good at showing his emotions. You grew shy again, taking a few bites of your stew.

Jack noticed you retreating into your shell, so he took the lead and started talking about you. It wasn’t long before he started rambling on and on about you, switching over to another subject, then back to you again. You stayed silent and focused on your food, nodding and humming when Jack said something that was correct. You answered a couple of additional questions that his parents asked, keeping the somewhat awkward conversation going until all of your plates were empty. Abigail promptly cleaned off the table and John followed her to the kitchen, using the privacy to talk about you.

You sat up and straightened your dress, making sure you hadn’t spilled anything on yourself. You never understood why your mother made you wear such bright colors, knowing you would get it dirty.

“It’s best I go now,” You say sheepishly, afraid Jack might judge you. He never did, not once. “Momma told me to be home before sundown.”

“Right,” Jack nodded, getting up out of his seat. He stared at you for a few seconds, taking in how gorgeous you looked. He hadn’t even told you that.

“You look like an angel,” He said with a soft smile, a few strands of his greasy dark hair hanging in front of his eyes. His words made you blush and look away. He leaned in and softly kissed your cheek, causing your cheeks to heat up even further.

“Come on, let's say goodbye and I’ll ride you home,” He took your hand and led you to the kitchen, where you thanked his parents for the meal and exchanged your goodbyes and goodnights.

#john marston #rdr2 #red dead redemption fanfiction #fluff #john marston x reader #jack marston #Jack marston x reader #red dead redemption fluff #red dead redemption #red dead fandom #abigail marston #abigail roberts

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kaznejis · 3 months ago

Text

Forever is the sweetest con- Dutch Van Der Linde x Reader

Turning your gaze to the paper, your eyes instantly zoned in on a particular collection of capitalised words. Your breath stuttered in your throat, lodging itself there as you felt John’s mournful gaze burning into the side of your face. His name. The notorious reputation that followed him no matter how far he ran was proceeding him, though it appeared that he hadn’t run far this time. Dutch Van Der Linde was in Tall Trees- the same patch of forest located only a short ride from the Beecher’s Hope's front gate.

A/N: Hi! I actually wrote and posted this to AO3 YEARS ago, but after a recent replay of RDR2 I decided to fix up some mistakes in this fic and post it on here! I hope you enjoy.

Word Count: 9287 / Read it on AO3!

NOTORIOUS BAD MAN ALIVE —--------------------------------------------

A dispatch from Tall Trees reports a sighting of infamous outlaw Dutch Van Der Linde, who has been on a bloody run from the law for many years now. The notorious Dutch’s Boys gang once plagued this state, but it was believed to have disbanded as long ago as 1899. Two of his henchmen - Hosea Matthews and Arthur Morgan - were both killed in separate raids by Pinkerton agents that same year. Gang members Bill Williamson, Micah Bell, John Marston, and Charles Smith are still believed to be at large. But most notably, Dutch’s supposed lover - rumored to have allied with the opposing powers during the gang’s infamous civil war - Y/N L/N has been seen haunting our states, donning bounty hunter wear. Will our young outlaw-turned-heroine be the one to finally end Van Der Linde’s tyranny?

Either way, law enforcement have pledged to continue searching for Van Der Linde, who still has one of the largest bounties on his head for kill or capture.

Eventually, the hands that were once calloused from gun slinging and knife wielding grew used to the arduous task of milking Betsy, Beecher's Hope’s famed prize cow- tuning to the rhythm of milking a cow that only really took a liking to the young Jack Marston. Swiping a palm through the mounting sweat on your forehead, you glared at the cow as it huffed.

“I hate this as much as you do, honey,” You turned slightly to retrieve the second bucket to be filled, “But we all want to eat, so you’re going to give me every last drop of that milk of yours.”

The cow’s ears merely twitched, the animal equivalent to a relenting eye roll.

You gave one right back.

“You tell her.” Abigail chuckled from behind you, pacing forward to lean against Betsy’s stall, “I’m not surprised John has you down here today, Ol’ Missy here tried to feed him a hoof at the slightest sign that he was about to milk her.”

You snorted, an image of John’s hat flying from his head and into the neighboring stall entering your mind, “She’s just stubborn is all, she’ll like me more than Jack soon, you’ll see.”

“I don’t doubt it,” She laughed, easing the weight of one of the buckets brimming with milk as you stood, ”Hey, walk back to the house with me. John said he has something to show you.”

“Oh?” You furrowed your eyebrows, a thick feeling began to lodge in your throat. The cautiousness of years on the run still lingering despite the secure life you now lived. “Any idea what it was?”

She shrugged, “He refused to tell me so probably some bounty hunting stuff. The silly man.”

You nodded; calming yourself as you deposited the contents of the bucket into a jug. You were safe, things had been relatively safe since you’d stumbled into the last remnants of the gang in the Blackwater Saloon. You had entered the building desperate for a comfortable bed and a hot meal- only to leave brimming with whiskey and laughter, a permanent room available to you mere minutes from your original destination. You had stared up at the stars that night, laying in the comfortable night time breeze upon the house’s deck as Rufus had snuffled at your hands, excited at the premise of a new friend.

Fatigue rotted the depths of your being, having followed the cold trail of Micah Bell for the better part of eight years. You had vowed that fateful night, as he forced you to point a gun at the only man you had and would ever truly love, that you would kill him. Globs of spit and blood flickered from your mouth as you had fled upon your steed, screaming likewise threats of revenge and murder as he had hunted you- the red of his vest merging with the rage in his eyes.

Micah had always wanted you dead.

You had been an obstacle before his beloved leader, the gem in the notorious Dutch Van Der Linde’s eyes. His sweet, his darling, his largest weakness.

The O’Driscolls had known it, the Pinkertons had known it and Micah Bell had known it.

His hackles raised everytime you neared, steering Dutch away in order to discuss his new “plan”. It had grown severe in Beaver Hollow, the drapes of Dutch’s once-welcoming tent consistently closed as he drowned within his own mind. You had moved into Tilly’s tent, terrified of Dutch’s inherent darkness breaching your own soul even despite the love you felt for him.

Micah had pounced then- Dutch’s last flicker of lightness being efficiently snuffed out. His once dormant toxicities were pampered and brought to life; riches and Micah became the forefront of his racing thoughts. You were simply lost in the tide.

“Now that I come to think of it,” Abigail placed her jug into the cart and spun to face you, “John looked like he was holding a newspaper of some sort- I think there was something of interest in it.”

Squinting, you turned to face the house- sure enough, John was sitting upon the front steps; a newspaper open within his hands. His face uncharacteristically devoid of emotion, “I’ll head over to him now, thanks Abigail.”

You spared a wave as you both went your separate ways, meeting eyes with John as he somberly raised his eyes, “Who died?” You joked, standing before him with your hands on your hips, “You look like you’re preparing to draw.”

John only swallowed, his jaw tightening as he looked away- almost as if he couldn’t bring himself to look into your eyes.

“John?”

“I think you’ll need to sit down, Y/N.” You quickly obliged, the scratch of his accent carrying a sorrowful timber; rougher than ever. lowering yourself beside him and wringing your hands together- the previous dread now returned at a higher fervor, taking residence within the pit of your stomach.

“What’s going on?”

John finally turned to you, his eyes filled with a dangerous mix of pity and anger, “I’m so sorry Y/N, I knew I shouldn’t have bought this place. I really should have looked into the area first.” he stood suddenly, his boots scuffing against the gravel as scrubbed at his face. Almost as if he was punishing himself for his supposed mistake.

“John?” You guffawed, straightening in your seat as you gaped at him, “What are you talking about? We’ve been over this, this is the perfect place for your family. It’s where Abigail wanted to be!”

The gravity of the situation weighed upon your conscience suddenly, John hadn’t been this stressed in months- having left the life of an outlaw to become an established father and farm handler. Whilst the weight of his past did prevail, the future had not previously posed any issue.

John nodded somberly, his eyes fixing upon a huddle of trees in the too-near distance.

“You know what happens in Tall Trees, don’t you?” You nodded and turned towards the trees yourself, urging him to continue. You’d had many runs in with the Skinner Brothers since moving in. “It’s filled with dangerous people, a fugitive paradise for people who are still like how we used to be.”

He stopped then, looking down to the newspaper within his hands. You noted that it was heavily crumpled, as if he’d been about to tear it up though decided against it at the last second, “You need to read this for yourself, I think.”

“Okay.” You spoke tentatively, peeling the newspaper from his hands as he gripped it reluctantly- as if to protect you from what you were about to read. You loved that about John, always willing to take the brunt at his own expense in order to protect the ones he loved. A trait carried from Arthur, you thought, stealing a look at the worn hat upon John’s head.

You looked away, the pain of loss forever present at the back of your mind. It lingered like a festering wound- oozing and growing at the merest memory of the pain. Arthur had given up everything for the safety of the remnants of the group; sometimes you wondered if it should have been you.

Turning your gaze to the paper, your eyes instantly zoned in on a particular collection of capitalized words. Your breath stuttered in your throat, lodging itself there as you felt John’s mournful gaze burning into the side of your face.

His name.

The notorious reputation that followed him no matter how far he ran was proceeding him, though it appeared that he hadn’t run far this time. Dutch Van Der Linde was in Tall Trees- the same patch of forest located only a short ride from the Beecher’s Hope front gate.

“So, to dismiss the elephant in the room, are you going to hunt the bastard down?”

“Sadie!” Abigail choked, glaring at the woman across from her- having just barely managed to coax you out of your room and into a seat at the dinner table.The news had left you partially catatonic- a haze feeding into your limbs as you had fled from John, curling up against the wall of your room until the cool glaze of Abigail’s palm had rubbed your shoulder. The usual buzzing cacophony of sound during dinner had become a mournful silence prior to Sadie’s announcement; each member treading on eggshells around you. Even Jack had barely spoken, having heard scattered tales of the time of the Van Der Linde gang, much to Abigail’s disapproval.

“What?” Sadie shook her head, stabbing a lump of beef with her fork threateningly. “The only reason I’m not already knee deep in those woods is for Y/N,” she turned to you then, her blonde plait glowing in the evening tint, “It’s your call hun. If anyone other than me had taken action against those damn O’Driscolls in Jake’s name; I’d never have forgiven ‘em.”

Abigail nodded in agreement, placing a hand beside your plate barely skimming your fingers, “We will support you in whatever you do Y/N.”

A scoff sounded from the end of the table, Uncle spat crumbs across the table as he spoke, mouth filled with stew, “I say we kill the bastard, especially if he’s allied with those wretched Skinner Brothers.”

The group stayed silent at that- all too aware of the extent of Uncle’s horrific injuries. You or Charles would regularly return from a hunt with ointment, to which Abigail would apply to Uncle’s injuries; her hums attempting to drown out his screams and cries. But nothing could amount to the nightmares that Uncle endured- reliving the torture he endured night after night. His alcohol dependency had only seemed to worsen. Not taking action against a Skinner-allied Dutch would only feel like betrayal.

John was the first to speak up, taking on the authoritative tone he seemed to muster during severe circumstances, “Either way, we need to decide what we’re doing fast.” John spoke, ever the strategic, “No matter the connections we used to have with Dutch, he’s going to be as unpredictable as ever. He cannot be trusted, not so close to Jack.”

“He could be here for us.” Charles regarded the matter for the first time, his deep baritone carrying a rougher tone, “It’s too much of a coincidence that he’s here so soon after you properly settled down.”

The sound of your spoon dropping filled the silence that followed, everyone turned as you placed your head into your hands- grinding your palms into the tears that filled your eyes, “I’ve gone so long.”

“Y/N it’s okay-”

“I’ve gone so long,” You repeated, dribbles of snot clouding upon your upper lip, “'I've been able to forget about him. All these years, I’ve been able to focus on other things-” A sob escaped from your lips as you refused to meet the sympathetic eyes surrounding you. “Why did he have to do this now?”

You broke down then, folding into Abigail’s embrace as she stroked your hair, coaxing the pained cries out of you. “Why don’t we run you a bath? A hot bath and a good nights’ sleep will do your mind some good.”

Nodding slowly, you wiped your face without a care towards the stains that would now grace your sleeves. Abigail led you towards the comfort of the chair before the fireplace as Charles jogged ahead to prepare you a bath- promising to add an array of the herbs he had recently discovered to be of abundance in the area. The joy you had felt during previous dinners had been long abandoned.

When the bathwater had long gone still and cold, the longer-lasting bubbles floating alongside the waves traced upon the water- the memories finally set themselves free, the tranquility of the soak loosening the long-secured walls within your mind.

The days spent leading up to the initial heist in a camp not far from your own, long morning’s tucked up in animal furs and Dutch’s arms as the Blackwater heat and assurance of soon-to-come-riches washed over you. The subsequent plight, Dutch’s eyes constantly swiveling back towards you from his wagon as you had chosen to ride upon your own horse; the way he had protested against this decision, digging his heels in even despite the fangs of the law snapping at them mere minutes away. Your safety being his first priority.

You had shut him out during the short stay at Colter- furious that he had prioritized you before his duties as the leader of the gang. Furious that he had put you before young Jack, the other women, the wide span of injuries slowing the gang to a desperate stagger. But no, he had snapped at you; waving desperately towards the wagon the last of the women were piling into as you shook your head- tightening your horse’s reins. He had cast your wrist into his iron grip then, his eyes hard and swarming with anger; a mirror image to the swaths of the law’s blood coating his shirt sleeves. The blood of an innocent woman.

With shaking limbs, you had snatched your hand away and mounted before kicking your horse into a gallop, following the others who had already enacted their hasty departure.

With only mere seconds free to himself during those cold days, Dutch had tried- he’d stared determinedly at you during every speech and attempted to corner you at every given moment. You had successfully evaded his advances every time, opting to escape into the mounting snow outside of your cabin in opposition to being with a man you weren’t sure you could trust anymore. It was Arthur who successfully infiltrated your movement, joining you at one of the scarce campfires the gang had managed to light.

“You’re driving him mad, Y/N.”

“Oh, Arthur.” You shook your head, poking the embers with a stick. “You of all people know that he’s already there.”

He sniffed, a short flash of amusement crossing his face before it was replaced with sobriety. “Maybe. I wasn’t at the massacre, I didn’t see exactly what he did-”

“He killed an innocent woman, Arthur. Right in front of me and then had the audacity to claim that my safety was the most important thing to him.”

“Yes, I want to beat him senseless for the way he’s damned us too, I promise you.” He scratched his beard tentatively, almost searching for the correct words to say, “But… no matter what he did, we need to stick together, Y/N.” A pause. “And if his only source of light is snuffed out, there’s no way we’re getting out of here.”

“Don’t make this my fault, Arthur.”

“I’m not, Y/N. You know I’m not. But we are all starving and cold and tired. We need a right-minded leader to get out of here and once we do, we can judge Dutch all we want.”

You laughed then, a foreign sound in the somber setting; Arthur had grinned crookedly too, wrapping an arm around shoulder as he pulled you into his side. “Alright, I’ll talk to him..soon.”

Arthur had simply huffed, rolling his eyes and giving you a pat on the head as he rose- behind on his schedule of carrying the burden of the gang. You had remained at that campfire for some time after that, dwelling within your own conflicting thoughts.

Sitting in the bathtub, you felt the same affliction as you did all of those long years ago, even despite being so much younger and naïve at that time. You wanted to run out there, into the darkness of the forests and deep troughs of moss, into the arms of your lost love. But another part of you, the part that had grown and hardened with age, the part that hated Dutch Van Der Linde with every fiber of its existence- wanted vengeance. It wanted to provide Sadie and John with your vital blessing to go out there and capture him, kill him even.

Despite the years you had garnered since settling eyes on Dutch, you didn’t trust yourself to follow through with ending it all yourself; you didn’t trust yourself not to melt entirely within his presence. His charisma would sway you, his ability to flirt and coerce would be an instant match for your own stoic toughness. You couldn’t possibly know what he looked like anymore- but your betraying conscience conjured an image of his trimmed mustache complimenting his sharp jaw, his towering stature and taut muscles- those same muscles that had pinned you down night after night, the same ones that belonged to the only body that had ever truly pleasured you. The rings that adorned his fingers, each one a symbol of masculinity and fabrication, glinting in the moonlight as he smoked his complimentary, post-orgasm cigar.

Your insides tingled as you recalled the way he used to ravage you, the hungry glint of his eyes from between your thighs or the heavy pants that would spill from his lips as he buried his head into the sweaty base of your throat, his sex-tousled hair drawing paths against your skin, lighting the fuses beneath your jaw and throat.

Mr. Van De Linde had always been the embodiment of seduction- whether in his manipulative nature or in the coital bed you shared. You doubted that this feature had hardly changed.

Which is why you could-

“Y/N?”

You sprung from your dazed position within the tub, jumping and wrapping linens around your soaked body, “Sorry- uh- Yes?”

“Are you okay? You’ve been in there for a while now?” It was Jack, probably worried sick about you alongside the rest of the family.

“I’m fine.” you spluttered, desperately wringing out your sopping hair as you opened the door, plastering on a half-convincing smile, “I won’t burst into tears on you again, I promise.”

He simply nodded, a concerned look in his eyes that frighteningly reminded you of his own father. A look far too old for his youthful features, “I just wanted to check that you weren’t drowning in there. The bath is far too deep for me sometimes.”

Ruffling his hair, you laughed- mood slightly improved, “Don’t worry about me Jackie- just had a little blast from the past is all.”

He nodded, though a pensive look flashed across his face.

“What?”

“I don’t have many memories from back then,” you nodded, encouraging him to continue, “but I do remember you and Uncle- sorry, you and Mr. Van Der Linde.” He looked at you sadly, possibly seeing the shock and grief that instantly sunk into your face, “Sometimes, you’d be so happy but then other days all that could be heard was your fights… I remember once it got so bad that Ma wouldn’t let me out of that room in that big house. But I also remember when you went missing for a day or two, he’d practically torn the place apart with the worry that you’d been taken.” He paused again as you watched him through tear-blurred eyes, “I’m sorry that he’s come back Y/N.”

Sniffling, you wrapped your arms around Jack, allowing your tears to slip into his hair, “I’m sorry that you had to experience that, Jackie,” you pulled back, cupping his cheeks and tightening your lips, “I hope to God that you never have to deal with something like that. Promise me you won’t let it happen?”

“I promise, Y/N,”

“Good. Good boy.”

“But… Do you still love him Y/N?”

Your teeth clacked shut, the sound resounding throughout the thin hallway. Not even when you and Dutch had been together had anybody dared question the true status of your relationship- opting for sympathetic smiles or knowing looks alike in respect for their brash leader. Shaking your thoughts, you attempted a warm smile, guiding Jack towards the living room. “Love is a complicated thing Jack, part of me hopes that you’ll never have to experience the woes of it but the happiness it brings outweighs everything,” tightening your robe around your chest, you sat beside Jack before the hearth of the fireplace, “Dutch could render me happy or sad at any given moment, the power he held over me was…terrifying.” Jack nodded, his eyes glinting curiously with the fire’s light, “But I think I did love him. Maybe I still do, but that doesn’t matter anymore because he’s not a good man.”

“You deserve a good man, Y/N.”

You chuckled, a real source of warmth and comfort finally replacing the cold of the bathwater, “Maybe. I look forward to the day that I finally meet one.”

“I think Uncle Arthur was a good man.”

“Yeah.” A lone buck sauntered along the hills surrounding Beecher’s Hope, its ears pricking towards Tall Trees. “He was.”

Shadows of branches intertwined and floated amongst the ceiling of your room, a light breeze filtering in from the opened window. You had opted to retire to bed early, skipping the usual drinks you would share with the rest of the family around the fire. You couldn’t face them, the pitious glances and the sway of alcohol would be too much, an easy passageway into spilling your darkest secrets.

The smell of alcohol had a tendency to remind you of Dutch, anyway. The acrid taste of whiskey and cigars mixed to create an unashamedly addictive scent; the taste of it upon his lips practically doubling the initial effect.

Not only had Dutch Van Der Linde always been an object of seduction, but he had become an object of addiction too. He had been the one to tie your dependency to cigarettes during your time in the gang, having quickly picked up his habit of smoking a cigarette in the event of anything extraordinary. You would regularly smoke together post-sex, bathing in the privilege of sharing one, or even two, of his prized cigars- picking up on his ever-watchful eyes as you wrapped your lips around the blunt and puffed; always making sure to add an air of extravagance as you exhaled.

The thought had you scrambling at the bottom of your mattress, searching for the stash of cigarettes you had stowed there for the event of emergency. You swore to yourself you had quit, but living a Dutch-less existence required other outlets.

Low and behold, you had smoked the last of them after attempting to round up a herd of sheep the week prior.

You swore, jumping out of bed and pulling the mattress back further to no avail. “It’s fine.” You mumbled to yourself, checking your wardrobe and dresser subsequently, “It’s fine.”

In all honesty, you could do with the fresh air- your room had quickly begun to forego the open window and grow stuffy with the weight of your own sinful mind. Though, your objection to facing the others still remained steady- leading you to hoist yourself out of the bedroom window and onto the saddle of your horse.

Blackwater remained a constant bustle of energy even within the darkness of night, having returned to its pre-Van Der Linde glory as a portside town. The city itself acted as a constant reminder to what Dutch had done, marking the beginning of his true tyranny as the blood of the innocent Heidi McCourt had splattered along the sidewalk and his very own shirt sleeves. You had only learned her name from the bench before the boardwalk- “We remember Heidi McCourt” scratched into the base of the wood, only a minute of research informed you of exactly who that was. But upon further residence within Blackwater- you learned of the hatred felt towards the notorious members of the gang; cutouts of previous gang members pinned to dartboards and littered with darts and even bullets alike.

Despite your pardons, the people of Blackwater had never forgotten what you had done.

Your hair was longer now, providing the disguise necessary to lay low. Besides, your bounty hunter escapades had quickly taken over any true resemblance to the you that had resided within the gang; the very newspaper detailing Dutch’s return had coined you a “heroine”. It was good to know that people knew you mostly for your good, the version of yourself eight years prior would have feared your very being.

Dismounting your steed, you patted her side as you pulled out a set of twin revolvers- ever aware of the new threat that lurked nearby. The thought that he could be anywhere made you shiver despite the warmth of Summer as you jogged towards the grocer, apologizing for your late arrival as it was near closing time. The man waved you off, rolling his eyes as he continued to sweep the shop floor.

Maybe chivalry was dead, you smirked to yourself as you requested a pack of premiums. The man nodded, but before he could bend to grab the cigarettes he paled, sweat beginning to bead at his temple as he whimpered- seemingly catatonic in place. Rising your eyes to the dusty window, your lips pursed as you spotted at least four figures behind you in the reflection, all obviously armed.

“Raise your hands darlin’.” A gruff voice spoke, the traditional accent carried by the Skinner brothers.

“I’m just grabbing some cigarettes,” You spoke firmly, your hands lowering towards your revolvers, “Just let me leave and we don’t need to have any issues.”

The men began to cackle at that, you could hear the sound of them clapping at each other’s backs and howling like dogs. The shopkeeper remained cowered beneath the counter, frozen in place as his eyes pleaded at you to do something- the stoic shopkeeper from mere minutes ago was no longer present.

“You think we’re just gonna let an infamous bounty hunter like you leave just like that?” The speaker spat at the ground, a display of disgust. “Do you know how many of our brothers you’ve killed?”

Chuckling, you rose your eyes. “I think they use the word infamous for a reason, you know.” You turned, spinning your revolvers and executing two of the men in a split second; time slowing as bullets lodged into each of their skulls. Tearing through skin and bone, the sound of the bullets pinging into the wall shattered their amusement, the fallout spraying their faces with blood.

The remaining men had barely even reached for their weapons before you delivered bullets into their heart and kneecaps respectively, the latter would live but never walk again; able to enforce the resounding fear of your presence into the outlaw community. Stepping over the bodies, you leaned over the survivor- clutching his shattered legs as he screamed and cried.

“Never underestimate me again.” You spat, mimicking his revolting action from earlier.

Despite his cries, the man laughed at your statement- his rotten teeth and stringy hair coated in the blood of his assailants. “Oh, Sweetheart,” he rose to rest on his elbow, his hitched breath releasing in pained pants, “We didn’t.”

Your eyes widened, you were only rewarded for a split second to prepare for the barrage of gunfire that attacked the storefront. Rolling backwards, you surveyed the frenetic gunfire from behind one of the many shelves and calculated how grossly outnumbered you truly were- at least ten men awaited outside, the group very obviously having not underestimated you.

You quickly discovered that the shopkeeper had locked himself in the back room- leaving you isolated with the threat of the Skinner Brothers. Without a second thought, you scaled the shop counter- loading your revolvers with bullets and replacing the empty space with the money in your pockets; it would serve you little purpose now.

You had no choice but to fight, your stubbornness making cowering and hiding not an option- if you went down, it had to happen fighting. You knew that your death would be gruesome, the feeling of the rough, splintering wood against your back and the tight press of your boots against the wall would not be the last thing you ever saw. You knew that you would be waking up again. Closing your eyes, you said a prayer- for your family. For Jack’s strength and innocence, for Abigail’s love, for John’s unwavering loyalty and for Sadie’s strength. You prayed for Dutch, prayed that despite all of his evil and wrongdoing, that he would not see you in the condition you were bound to be in. That he would not be the one to inflict the pain to come upon you.

Time slowed once again as you rose, meeting the men as they slammed open the shop door- grossly outnumbered as you had calculated. Vision blurring, you shot widely- fighting for your life as men collapsed throughout the room. The flash of gunfire and the glint of throwing knives blinded you.

Finally, you ran out of bullets. The bodies of vile, disgusting men surrounded you. The bodies of the men that had terrorized your family. As an arrow lodged itself into your unguarded chest, you felt nothing but vindication.

Blinking, the sound of dripping rang throughout your brain as your senses faltered. Slower than usual.

You couldn’t move your arms or legs.

“I can’t-” You stuttered, fidgeting and shaking, “I- can’t…I can’t move.”

No one replied, only the sounds of your unsteady breaths could be heard, each one followed by that dripping sound. The horror of the situation dawned upon you, you had been right. You had woken up.

The skinner brothers hadn’t killed you.

Your cheeks felt wet, slicken with tears and something else as you heaved and pushed against your confinements.

Boots crunched along grass then, the sound of a rolling glass bottle rung beside your head.

“Who’s going to shut her up this time then?” A misty voice spoke nearby, it was followed by a mixture of sounds, to which your brain couldn’t decipher. It almost sounded like they were fighting over who would finish you off. You continued to cry then, your brain running at a speed faster than you could manage as the pain outweighed any coherent conscience. Finally, your eyes managed to peel themselves open.

To your horror, the dripping sound was your own blood- oozing from a cut on your arm that dribbled down through your fingers and onto the gravel below. You were tied to a wooden frame, similar to what Uncle had been tied to- though the fire had not yet been lit below you. The shine of the sun above you told you that not only had it been multiple hours, but that they were saving your sacrifice for the following night. Your body adorned a number of cuts though the arrow wound within your stomach had been messily patched up.

“They’re keeping me alive.” You mouthed, your eyes flitting around your surroundings as they welled with tears. You were within tall trees- deep in the forest and past the border lines you had previously ventured towards; they were ensuring that you would not be found.

“Have you found any takers for her?”

“Hm?” A large man looked towards a smaller man only a few steps from you.

“Any takers?” the smaller man rolled his eyes, socking the larger man in the arm, “Has anyone posed any offers to purchase her?”

Your ears rung as you squeezed your eyes closed, feigning sleep as you listened in on the conversation. They were keeping you alive to sell you, they were aware of your worth as a ruthless bounty hunter. It was their job to strip you of everything you had so they could sell a bounty hunter reduced to nothing to the highest bidder- a fate potentially worse than the fate of the Skinner brothers.

Before you could squirm frantically, the larger man spoke, “We have actually- some man spotted the poster up near Manzanita Post, claims he has some personal business to settle. Hefty sum, he’ll be here within the hour.”

The younger man grinned, his molten teeth dull in the sun’s light, “Personal? Damn, she must have taken out someone close.”

The larger man hummed as they departed their posts, moving towards the larger group of men. Your heart thumped in your chest as you squirmed- using any tactic you had ever learned from your fellow outlaws to perform any attempt at escape. But all was to no avail- the Skinners knew damn well how to hold a hostage.

Closing your eyes, you laid back. Every ounce of fight that had resided within you during that initial fight had vanished. There was nothing left, you had nothing left- all you could do was wait for what came next.

“Look at this pretty lady.” A voice spoke above you soon after that thought, a Skinner with a patchy ginger beard hovered in your eye line, a menacing grin upon your face. “What are we gonna do with you?

Fellow skinners laughed as a sharp pain, a knife, punctured your side- you’d experienced stabbings before, but not in this state. You succumbed to the urge to scream, the sound tearing from your throat and laced with terror. The man grinned, twisting the knife before wrenching it out and watching as you panted through the pain.

“It’s alright Darlin’. We all have to pay penance for our actions sometimes, seeing as you killed my father and all.”

You grinned, the feeling of blood dripping from your scabbing lips pushed aside as humor filled you, “Am I supposed to know who you’re referring to?” The mans’ eyes darkened at that, though just as he went to resume his torture, a deafening shot resounded throughout the forest.

You could only watch as the man collapsed backwards, blood spraying your already coated skin in thick beads. The background noise within the camp instantly dropped, all present turning to face their attacker- though none dared to retaliate.

“For the sum I’m paying, I’d hope my investment would be in pristine condition.”

The worst of your nightmares paled in comparison to what you saw as you turned. Dutch Van Der Linde stood at the edge of camp, tall and boisterous as ever. A repeater laid pointed within his hands, complimented by black rings adorning his fingers and aimed ready for whoever dared to step forward. The black waistcoat and linen shirts had been replaced with a silk black shirt, the sleeves rolled and the top button undone in respect of the humidity of West Elizabeth. No hat laid upon his head now, his hair curling at the nape of his neck and slicked back with pomade. He looked rich, luxurious. He didn’t look like the most wanted man in America.

It seemed that his obsession with finery had never dispersed.

You heaved, grappling at the wooden frame as you hoped, prayed, and begged for any way to escape. Any route other than having to go with him. The mere sight of him invoked sickness, suffering and fear- you felt like you had regressed, all progression made dispersed at the sound of his voice.

“Sir…You are free to take her.” The larger man whimpered, despite Dutch’s smaller frame, the man lowered himself to one knee; bowing his head. You scoffed, shaking your head as tears of anguish and defeat rolled down your face.

“Free?” Dutch sneered, his lips curling as he stepped before the cowering man, “I would hope so- seeing the state of her. What am I supposed to do with her if she looks like that?”

“Of- of course, Sir.” Multiple Skinners nodded in agreement, joining in bowing before the renowned criminal mastermind.

“Good.” Dutch spoke calmly, his features void of all emotion. You shook, in fear of what was to happen. In fear of the man you had previously thought you had left behind, the man you had presumed long dead. But part of you, the long cold and dormant part that had loved him. The part of you that yearned and starved, that had dragged you on that late-night outing in the first place- it longed for him.

Before anyone could blink, fathom the possibility of Dutch’s evolved tyranny over the years- he pressed the repeater’s trigger; ending the lives of the men bent to his will with a parade of clean headshots. You were no stranger to brutality, especially not Dutch’s, but your position was significantly more vulnerable than theirs; you could do nothing but bend to Dutch’s will.

As the last bullet sounded and the last man fell, Dutch wasted no time in slinging the repeater upon his shoulder and advancing towards you. Dutch reached you then, staring down at your dwindling and shivering form. Your groggy brain registered the crease of his brow, the red lining of his eyes and the worried curl in his lips.

He composed himself quickly, a mask settling as he moved to cut open your bindings. “The man was right, what am I going to do with you Y/N?”

You faded in and out of consciousness in the back of a cart- effectively bleeding out onto what felt like boar pelts. Dutch had instructed you to hold on as he fled from the camp, leaving the Skinner’s to decompose in his wake- a fleeing devil and all. The canopy above Tall Trees swirled above you, the sun remaining high in the sky throughout the journey. It could have been minutes or hours.

“Alright Princess,” Dutch said from the driver’s speech above, refusing to look back at you, “Hold on, we’re nearly there now.”

The use of your old, long unused nickname made you recoil- Dutch had always been one for sweet remarks, but he especially favored Princess- he was the beast, you were the innocent beauty. It created the rhetoric that you were to be protected, despite the major contributions you had made towards the camp on many occasions. You had to fight to be sent on missions, Dutch would respond with cold refusal; opting to insult you brashly in order to supposedly keep you safe. At his worst, you had stormed from camp; jumping onto the back of your horse and galloping away, ignoring the pleas of the gang. It was only when you didn’t return that worry had set in, three days you had been missing- later found by Arthur near Emerald Ranch. You had later learned that Dutch had practically torn the camp and nearby settlements apart; his shirtsleeves painted in red as he had searched for you- knocking down anyone in his way.

“Don’t call me that.” You mumbled groggily, using all of your energy to deliver a retort.

“What? Princess?”

You gritted your teeth, Dutch-induced-irritation felt like home- the gritting of your teeth and press of fingernails all too familiar when in his company. As the cart halted to a stop, Dutch leaped over the back of the wagon, instantly picking you up and taking you into a nearby tent.

“Okay Y/N,” he spoke hastily, flitting around the tent as he artfully bandaged up your wounds and poured health cure down your throat, “You’re going to stay alive because even though I did get you for free in the end- I’ve put a lot on the line for this.”

The utterance of your name blindsided you, the specific phonetic variation of your name on Dutch’s lips a foreign concept to you. Though at the same time, it felt right. Like returning home. But he hadn’t changed, you told yourself. He was still rude, materialistic, and conniving. You may have been better off staying with the Skinners. As he pressed into the stab wound in your side- you felt your consciousness fading, the pain blurring your vision and eliciting shouts from your throat.

“Go to sleep,” he mumbled as you felt a hand ridden with jewels caress your hair, “We have a lot to discuss.”

When you next awoke, the hum of night surrounded you as the crackling of a fire sounded nearby. You were laid upon a pile of warm pelts, a thin cross stitch blanket laid over your frame, covering the injuries that each individually created a cold ache. The tent you laid in was a decent size, though smaller than what you had previously slept in with Dutch- it was filled with mismatched furniture; pieces that he had presumably scavenged due to the inability to show his face anywhere. A thin cloth shirt lay beside you; to which you awkwardly pulled on, careful to avoid the extent of your injuries, in favor of losing your long destroyed and stained clothes. From your position you could see a horse, the Count, strong and faithful as ever though its once pristine, shining coat was greyer with what could be presumed as turmoil and age.

Dutch filtered into your vision next, sat beside the horse and facing away from you- his back solid and strong as ever, posture perfect as he cleaned the repeater that you had only seen to inflict pain. You attempted to rise from the bed, instantly wincing as a burn resounded within your side- that gained Dutch’s attention as he spun, his features wearing a look of shock.

“Finally,” He smirked, placing the gun on the ground and rising to come and meet you, “I thought you’d never wake up Princess.”

You glared at him, both for the nickname and his forceful attempts to lay you back down, “I’m a renowned bounty hunter now, you know.”

“Oh, I know that,” A grin marred his features, though it didn’t quite meet his eyes, “I’ve seen you all over the papers- the wonderful tales of justice and empowerment. Always a great read.”

“It isn’t a fantasy story to enjoy over breakfast,” You snapped, “I’m finally doing something good with my life, going straight and working alongside the law. Not against it.”

Dutch scoffed, always the cynic in the face of accomplishment “You’re nothing but a tool to them Y/N- one wrong move, one slightly unlawful kill and you’re finished.”

You cut him off with a laugh then, scrubbing a hand against your eyes in disbelief, “You are seeing me for the first time in eight years and you are seriously giving me a lecture right now?” You paused, preparing to deliver a punch, “The public are betting on me to do it you know, to kill you.”

Dutch stood then, an unbridled rage in his eyes as he towered over you, though he only spoke two words. “You wouldn’t.”

You shrugged, smirking up at him cynically, “How would you know? We haven’t seen each other in eight years, Dutch- the last time we did see each other, you betrayed me.”

“Betrayed you?” Dutch raged, “I never betrayed you; my gun never faltered in your direction though I remember you sending a number of shots my way.”

“You killed Arthur.”

Dutch swallowed, his throat bobbing; the weight of your accusation infecting the strength of his shoulders and setting stone within his chest. He spoke slowly, each word laced with venom as spit flew from the lips, “How would you know?”

“I saw,” your voice shook with anger, “I followed him up there. I saw what you did. I saw the way he begged. I saw the way you left his body lying there. If I hadn’t been there- he would have been left behind to rot.”

“I did what had to be done.” His voice cracked, emotion tiding the way over any rational thought, “I did…what had to be done.”

Shaking your head, you turned from him; the severity of your injuries rendering you useless, unable to run. Dutch refused to move from your peripheral, his gaze heady and severe upon the back of your head. “Leave me alone.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Dutch paused, his fists clenched and hair falling into his eyes, the pomade long worn off, “Because, I miss you Y/N.”

“Bullshit.”

“Y/N,” Dutch was pleading now, grasping at your shoulders and arms, his hands skimming any skin he could find; the actions of a starved man, “No matter what I do, no matter where I go, who I’m with, what semblance of riches I am able to grasp- you never leave my mind,” He gulped, no stopping now, “I’ve been reading about you for years but when I saw that poster up in Manzanita Post, I went insane with worry- I thought I’d be collecting your dead body but when I saw you strung up there I felt even worse; I practically felt the pain you felt.”

“Seriously?” You spat, “You felt my pain? I was being tortured and you spin this to be about you?”

“Princess that’s not-”

“Leave it Dutch,” You growled, slapping away his encroaching hands, “You haven’t changed.”

“What was wrong with me before? I was a leader, I kept you all alive. And what do I get for that? Nothing.”

“You ruined us!” You yelled, “You ruined me! My life since leaving you has been reduced to nothing but surviving, I can’t fade into the background anymore because of the target you placed upon our backs Dutch.”

“You had a choice, you could have left whenever you wanted.”

“But, I couldn’t. Anytime I left I’d be watched like a hawk Dutch. I was finally free, but now you’ve reigned me in again.”

Dutch laughed then, a fabricated cackle as he clutched his stomach- though the grin above his face did not reach his eyes. “I saved your life, Princess.”

“My fate there would have been better than this.”

“Ah, I see.”

The two of you sat in petulant silence then, too stubborn to back down as the weight of trauma and regret outweighed any semblance of forgiveness. The stale air of silence continued for days as you recovered- Dutch would check your injuries and bring you meals whilst you were still bedbound; allowing for only small glimpses of contact as he opted to spend as much time as possible outside of the tent; favoring humidity and his horse over your company. As you recovered, you began to venture outside of the warmth of the bed- opting to explore the surrounding wilderness, ignoring Dutch’s ever watchful gaze. It seemed his possessive streak had never ended, possibly having worsened seeing as though he had the gall to stroll into the camp of some of the most ruthless killers in the state.

In your solitude, you thought of home. You thought of your little bedroom in Beecher’s Hope, a place you could finally call your own. You thought of the family dinners you were missing; Abigail’s horrendous cooking feeling like a distant memory as you ate only scavenged animal meat and local berries. You thought of nighttime bonfires, morning coffee and the glow of the sun upon the crops during the afternoons; sweat congregating at your forehead as you had earned your keep. You missed home, you missed home like you had once missed Dutch.

The knowledge that you couldn’t have both was heartbreaking- serenity and Dutch was not an amicable match. Dutch only brought destruction and suffering; you hadn’t spoken properly in days due to his inability to see the point of others, his leading mindset never faltering. Dutch could simply never be a part of a family. You glanced over at him from your perch then, watched as he brushed down The Count; taking care to smooth down its hair and whisper sweet nothings into its ear.

Everytime he acted contrary to his real self you felt your heart shatter.

You stood then, unable to bear the weight of loaded silence any longer. “I spotted a river down the hill, I’m going to go and wash myself down.”

Dutch paused, seemingly shocked by the sound of your voice, “I’ll join you.”

“Dutch-”

“No, Y/N.” Dutch spoke firmly, raising a hand towards you, “Your injuries are too severe, if you slip and open up your side, your death will be in my hands.”

Rolling your eyes, you pushed past him and sauntered down the hill; listening as his footsteps followed. The silence continued as you walked, all too aware that you would have to remove at least some articles of clothing before him. It was nothing he’d never seen before of course, but it had been years since a man had seen your body in that way- you couldn’t account for your actions if his heated gaze met yours after so long.

“Turn around.”

Dutch grinned, turning slowly with his hands on his hips, “It’s nothing I’ve never seen before, Princess.”

You knew he would say that. You merely scoffed in reply.

As you stripped, you became too aware of the sensitivity of your injuries; the ache in your shoulder, the sting in your stomach and the pain in your side. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Dutch called, back still turned.

“I don’t-” You screwed your eyes shut, dreading what was to come, “I don’t think I can wash myself.”

“Okay,” Dutch spoke slowly, turning though his eyes remained closed, “Do you want me to help you?”

Gulping, you nodded frantically, “Yes.” You spoke hastily- terrified that if you didn’t respond quick enough then the moment would be over. Part of you felt disgusted at yourself, disgusted at your lack of resistance towards the man that had broken your heart. But, the other part of you felt thrilled; electrified, brought back to life at the thought of him truly touching your skin again. Rolling back his shirt sleeves, he approached; his uncaring facade refusing to break as he helped you peel your shirt from your arms, instantly exposing your bare breasts as you had foregone upper undergarments in favor of allowing your injuries to heal. You gulped, refusing to look at him as he moved to unbutton your pants, stifling groans as you felt the linen brush over a sore spot. He shushed you comfortingly, discarding your pants to the side. Beads of sweat had formed at the base of his temple.

He began to lower you into the cool tide then, cupping water within his palm and pouring it onto your head; shushing you soothingly as he did so. His finger constantly skimmed your body- the edges of your breasts, the inside of your thighs, the corners of your mouth. Your lips pursed as you stared up into his eyes; to which he resolutely stared back, the mask finally breaking. He could’ve done anything to you in that moment- pinned you down beneath the water, stolen your last breaths.

You dwelled on whether that would be the case if anyone other than you laid within his arms.

“Dutch,” you gulped, your throat running dry as you attempted to voice your feelings, “We shouldn’t be doing this.” Your voice came out as a whisper.

Dutch blinked at you, his finger tracing a path down the side of your face- his voice croaked as he spoke, half-speaking half-groaning, “Princess.” The sound of his resistance breaking was mesmerizing and you laid compliantly as his finger began to circle your nipple; creating goosebumps in its wake.

“Tell me to stop, Y/N.”

“I- I can’t.” Your head spun as he moved his hand downwards, holding you steady as he reached down to swirl a ringed finger around your clit. The feeling of the stark cold of the ring matched with the heat of his skin elicited a guttural moan, your eyes rolling backwards as he began to pleasure you. His throat bobbed as he stared down at you, his eyes darkening and intense as he watched you break apart, a familiar mirage of the past. The semblance of a woman could break even the strongest of men.

You broke entirely, gripping Dutch’s hair and smashing your faces together; drenching his shirt in water and kissing him messily. His tongue dove into your mouth as he pinned your face against his own with his free hand, continuing his ministrations upon your clit. You groaned into his mouth, working at the sopping buttons of his shirt. You were all too accustomed to his rough nature during intimacy, often opting to pin you down and clutch your hair over soft, sweet actions. You had cared in the past, but now you couldn’t, opting to claw at his back and hair; scratching his scalp and drawing lines down his back.

Just as you reached for his pants, he stopped; pulling away with swollen lips and ruffled, wet hair- “I’m sorry Darling, we can’t do this here,” he breathed, moving his hand upwards to cup at your breast, “Let’s get you up to my tent and then we can continue.”

You shook your head, eyes pleading and begging, “We can do it on the shoreline, please we can’t stop now.” You knew that if you stopped, you wouldn’t be able to continue; the disgust and horror would set in. Dutch nodded reluctantly, a tinge of suspicion lingering in his eyes. You stumbled out of the water; collapsing together as you hastily pulled his pants from his body before lowering yourself onto his cock. He groaned huskily, his hands flying to your hips as he threw his head back. He had been craving this.

As you rocked and rolled together- you knew that this couldn't happen again. Dutch Van Der Linde was not safe- you could not let him enter your sphere any further. You moaned and cried and whimpered- relishing every last touch and taste and feeling. The sweat congregating between your bodies was slick and hot- connecting every last fiber of skin.

This couldn’t happen again, you told yourself, this couldn’t happen again.

Afterwards, you laid together at the shoreline- naked and bare to the forest as you laid in Dutch’s arms. He told you stories- stories of his time on the run, moments where he thought of you, moments where he caught glimpses of you in the paper, glimpses of you told in the fireside tales of other outlaws. You laughed, smiled, complied- gave him exactly what he wanted- you told him stories of the gang; neglecting important details though providing him with the skeletons of true stories. He too smiled, his lips curling genuinely as he placed a kiss into your hair.

Just before sleep overruled him, he informed you of his plan. His plan for the two of you, how you would travel together in his wagon; find a farmhouse and make a living there. You smiled, agreeing.

But it was the life you already had.

When dawn hit, you crawled out of his arms; allowing yourself one last look before you fled- into the dangers of Tall Trees and the semblance of home that lay just past it. You had to return to your family.

#dutch van der linde #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #dutch van der linde x reader #dutch van der linde fanfiction

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gicosmo · 9 months ago

Text

Damn Those Marstons

Jack Marston x Fem!Reader.

Hey, RDR fans! I got into RDR2 a few months back and I literally binge watched play throughs of RDR1. This angsty idea for Jack popped up(because he can never be happy😔) and I just had to write it!

Synopsis: You’ve been with Jack for a few months now. When he asks you to meet his family, you would’ve never thought you would be meeting one of the two outlaws who killed your father.

Warnings: Takes place during RDR1(1914)(Jack is nineteen), alternate universe where the Marston family lives a bit longer lol, John uses his fake name ‘Jim Milton’, a little bit of arguing, just really sad angst.

“Can I tell you both somethin’?” Jack piped up at the dinner table, placing his spoon down into his bowl. Abigail and John immediately looked up at him, confusion written on both of their faces. It was pretty unusual for Jack to get all serious at random. Abigail nodded, “Of course. You can tell us anything, Jack.” She reached over, giving a gentle reassuring pat on his shoulder.

John remained quiet, observing his son. If anything, he was quite on edge, not wanting any bad news. Jack took a deep breath before a smile appeared on his face, “I’ve been seeing this lady. God— Ma, you’ll love her! She’s the sweetest, most loving lady you’ll meet.” Jack’s eyes sparkled as he went on a rant about his girlfriend. Abigail and John were shocked in the moment, but then proceeded to smile. They would be lying to themselves if they said they weren’t happy that Jack had finally found someone.

John chuckled as he looked at Abigail, “Looks like our boy is head over heels! When can we meet her, son?” Jack paused, thinking for a moment.

“How about tomorrow?” Jack answered, looking over at his mother, “If that’s okay with you, ma.”

Abigail laughed, nodding her head, “Of course it’s okay with me! I’ll cook a nice dinner for the four of us! I can’t wait to meet her.”

Jack was ecstatic! He was in his bed, looking up at the ceiling being unable to fall asleep. He couldn’t wait for you to meet his family. His mind was racing until he eventually tired himself out.

In the morning Jack was already at your front door. You opened it with a bright smile on your face, “Well I wasn’t expecting you today. Why do you have the dumb smile on your face? What are you planning?” You walked up to him, Jack leaning down to plant a sweet kiss on your forehead.

“I ain’t planning nothin’! Just… Will you come have dinner with my parents? Today?” Jack blurted out. It was evident he was pretty excited about this. You were taken aback by this. Dinner? With his parents?

You giggled sheepishly, “Geez, Jack. I wish you told me this sooner. I don’t think I got any nice clothes to give a good first impression…” Jack shook his head, grabbing your hands into his, “No need for fancy clothes no nothing. My parents don’t care about your wealth. They care about who you are.”

His words melted your heart. Jack bent down, pulling you in for a soft tender kiss. You always loved how gentle he was with you. Once he pulled away, you stepped back into your home, “Let me tell my mother i’ll be gone for a while. Mind waiting out here while I get ready?”

“Anything for you, darlin’.”

-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-

After getting ready, Jack helped you onto his horse and rode back to his home. The horse ride wasn’t silent what so ever as Jack couldn’t help but tell you how excited he was. All you could do was smile. It was nice seeing your lover get so excited about something.

Once you both arrive at Beechers Hope, he helped you off of the horse. He held your hand as you both walked up the step of his home. Abigail opened the door with a smile, “Why, hello! You must be the little lady Jack has been talking on and on about!” She walked up to you, giving you a friendly hug.

“Cmon now Ma— Don’t embarrass me like that…” Jack muttered, scratching his head and turning away out of embarrassment. Abigail rolled her eyes, “There’s nothing embarrassing about loving a lady! Now come on in! Dinner is almost ready!” She led you both inside the house, the scent of a good meal in the air.

“Where’s Pa?” Jack questioned, pulling a chair out for you to sit in. Abigail sighed and shrugged, “Joh— I mean, Jim went out a while ago. He said he’ll be back. He most definitely doesn’t want to miss out on this.” She reassured Jack.

Abigail sat down at the table with the both of you. She seemed like a lovely young woman. Sweet yet had a fierce aura to her. She questioned you about your home life, how you met Jack, all the basic questions a parent would ask their child’s lover.

You were honest with her. You told her how it was just you and your mother since your father was killed by some bad people when you were a kid. You spoke about how you only had some insight of two of the men who took your father’s life, hoping you wouldn’t run into them again. You spoke about how you met Jack while shopping for books, how the love for literature brought you both together.

Talking with Abigail felt so natural, both of you didn’t seem to notice someone enter the home. Jack smiled, “Took you long enough, sir.” You turned your head and immediately froze. All you could do was stare at the man with scars on his face.

“Took you long enough, Jim!” Abigail got up, gently slapping her husband’s arm. The man looked at you and smiled, “You must be the lovely lady Jack can’t shut up about! Nice to meet ya! I’m Jim. Jim Milton! You’ve already met Abigail…” You couldn’t hear his words anymore. Everything your boyfriend has told you was a lie.

There was no one named Jim Milton in this home. There wasn’t a Milton at all. The man in front of you was none other than John Marston. Jack wasn’t a Milton either. He was a Marston. They all were.

Your vision became blurry, your ears were ringing so loud. You couldn’t think straight. What could you do? What can you do?

You needed to leave.

“Hun? You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost…” You snapped back into reality as Jack held your hands gently, looking at you with concern. You gently pushed him away, shaking your head.

“I need to leave. Excuse me.” You pushed Jack out of the way, but he immediately grabbed your wrist. “Hey hey, what’s wrong? Did we do something? Did I do something?” Jack questioned, obviously really confused and concerned.

That’s when you just snapped. You couldn’t take the pain anymore.

“As a matter of fact you did do something. Marston.” You spat at him, Jack instantly taken aback by your outburst. Abigail gasped, her hands cupping over her mouth. John froze, if anything he was terrified at the fact that you knew who they were.

“Is this what people like you do, Marston!? You kill people who had families to go back to while you’re here living a great life with your family!?” You yelled at John. Jack glanced at his father, confused and utterly shocked.

Tears fell from your face as you shook your head, “You took my father from me. I was just a kid… How come you can live your best life, seeing your child grow up… But my father can’t?” You looked at all three of them before looking at Jack,

“I can’t be with the son of an outlaw. Especially to the outlaw that took my father’s life,” You looked back at John and Abigail, “If you’re worried about me telling others about where you live, don’t. I get nothing out of revenge. Just know that your actions will catch up to you. You can never leave your old life to live a new. It happened to my father, it will happen to you.”

You walked towards the front door, “I hope you all enjoy your lives. Goodbye.” With that, you left the home. You heard the front door swing up, footsteps rushing towards you. Turning around, it was Jack.

“Darlin’! Please, don’t leave. Look, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I know my Pa has done some horrible things— But I swear he’s a changed man!” Jack pulled you into an embrace, “You’re the best thing that has happened to me in so long. I— I love you…”

Jack’s words were sincere. They really were. But you couldn’t shake the disgusting feeling off of you. You gently pushed him off from you,

“Jack. I love you— Well… I loved you too. But I know my father would be rolling in his grave knowing I was dating the son of the man who killed him.”

Jack’s heart sunk. He couldn’t do anything but watch you walk away. What can he even say? It wasn’t long until John came out to check up on his son.

John reached down to place a hand on Jack’s shoulder, immediately getting rejected by him. Jack glared at his father, “Damnit old man, You’ve made my life a living hell. I can forgive you for so many other things you’ve done. But this? I don’t know if I can.”

Jack bumped his father’s shoulder as he walked back into the house. Abigail tried to comfort him, but he immediately shut that down. John and Abigail had a lot to talk about.

It took you a long while to get back home. Your mother greeted you with a loving smile, but all you could do was cry in her arms. She didn’t question nor judge you, she did what a mother does best and held you. Telling you it was going to be okay.

Damn those Marstons.

Damn that sweet loving boy you fell in love with.

And damn your heart for still loving him.

#red dead redemption #jack marston #jack marston x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr #john marston #abigail marston

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pettypiastri · 2 years ago

Text

the webs we spin

coho!jack hughes x fem reader

wc: 6.9K

warnings: swearing, drinking, alcohol, drunkenness, partial nudity, sexual innuendo/references, moderate NSFW scene (involves: degradation, dom/sub, name calling, taunting), fwb

a/n: this was inspired by the visuals/vibe in a (I THINK?) luke blurb where reader comes to get luke hughes when hes drunk (I THINK?) and i cannot remember for the life of me who wrote it though i will scour for it and give credit where its due! (EDIT: its this johnny beecher blurb from the incredibly talented @lucafantilli pls go check it out and her writing in general!) this is obviously a college AU of current devils at the university of michigan so miles= miles wood, dawson= dawson mercer, john= john marino, and nico= nico hischier ofc ofc. the game referenced is actually from a wisco game from two seasons ago just a diff opponent lmao.

its a bit different than my normal/preferred writing style/voice but hopefully its still good! 🤞 enjoy!

italics are flashbacks

Y/N POV

Chaos is not how you choose to start your morning. Scratch that. It’s not how anyone chooses to start their morning. But you did choose to let Jack fall asleep next to you last night after he came over. And that is a choice you still don’t regret. Despite his choice to cause an absolute ruckus leaving for morning workout.

“Fuck Y/N where’s my hoodie?” Jack is frantically turning your bedroom on its head at a ripe 6:20am. You’re walking a fine line between helping/consoling him and telling him to shut the fuck up. God damn feelings makes it the former.

“Jacky hun, I’m literally wearing it, did you forget? Here, take it. Just grab me something else to wear from the dresser.” Cooing gently to try and calm the rancid energy in the room you cross your arms over your head and remove the Michigan emblazoned hoodie from your figure. You suppose you’re so comfortable around him, after he’s seen you naked so many times, that exposing your chest doesn’t give you pause. But it certainly gives Jack pause. His cheeks flush as he looks down at your breasts. He’s shy, as if he didn’t spend 10 minutes leaving marks on them last night. Seeing his reaction makes you blush, cause if he’s blushing shouldn’t you be too??

You raise a nervous arm to drape across your boobs, sheltering what you can from his beady gaze. The movement seems to bring reality back to the forefront of Jack’s mind. He sees you’re nervous now from his staring and feels a sinking in his chest; that’s the last thing he ever wants to make you feel. He clears his throat and spins on his heel toward your dresser. Fuck, he hopes he hasn’t made you insecure. He flings open a, frankly, unnecessary number of drawers until he finds some big t-shirts and picks one up. Jack, with corrected reaction and head held high now, treads over to you smiling softly. Instantly the fire on your face cools and you find enough confidence to hold his gaze. Gently he reaches for the hoodie and plucks it out of your tight grasp.

“Thank you, love. Here.” He drops the new shirt over your head, coaxing you to slide your arms through. It’s an intimate moment with him speaking so quietly and watching you with a renewed softness. Jack doesn’t hesitate to slip his hand against your cheek and lean down for a kiss. He holds you there for a moment and it feels all too domestic: your hockey player boyfriend leaving early in the morning for a workout, the soft touches and lingering stares. The claustrophobic feeling begins to rise, as much as you wish you could revel in the moment. You know it’s not real and you can’t convince yourself it is.

You break the kiss smiling at Jack to avoid suspicion of the strings you’ve attached yourself to him with. Jack smiles back, unaware of the ploy.

“Sorry umm sorry I fell asleep… well, no I mean I guess I’m more sorry for waking you up.” Jack stumbles over his own thoughts a little bit, revising as he goes. You don’t know whether to be brave or be safe. Given your heart’s armor is about as sturdy as some shitty copy paper right now, you decide to play it safe.

“It’s okay, don’t be sorry. Have a good workout, yeah?” Your gaze stays strong though, pleading for him to hear what you’d really wanted to say: ‘You know you can always stay the night. I like having you here.’ He nods curtly and mumbles out an affirmation, leaning down to slip on his shoes.

You don’t think it’s in your friends with benefits description to walk him to the door at 6:30am, so you curl back up on your bed, dragging the covers over your body.

Jack grabs his phone from where you’d plugged it in to charge last night (grey area behavior too) and pats down his hoodie pocket checking he has everything. Satisfied, he moves toward your bedroom door waving shyly as he steps out. You both bounce soft “bye”s off each other, like tentative echoes searching for something.

To be fair, the friends with benefits description has already been… well, edited I guess you could say. What started out as unspoken “Only when Jack doesn’t have practice” and “No staying the night” became “Only when Jack doesn’t have games the next day” and “No staying the night unless there’s early workout/class in the morning.”

One thing that hadn’t been revised: “This stays between us.” Who decided that one, you don’t know but that was just some kind of stupid rule for all of these types of situations, right? Maybe that’s just what you told yourself to keep from getting attached. Ha, wishful thinking that was.

Jack had been intriguing from the beginning. That hard fuckboy almost exterior was alluring; he knew just what to say and how and when and what smile to give you and the eyes to make. He was pre-planned, meditated, and that was obvious from the girls you’d seen him hand pick from the bar crowd, say a few lines to, and take home. But never the same girl twice. He didn’t really know you and never hand picked you from any of those aforementioned crowds but the fates had it in store for you regardless.

The stupidest trope really. Dumb jock has shitty grades. Prof targets smart punctual student to tutor him. A tale as old as time except you didn’t study at the library or the coffeeshop. No, from day one you invited Jack over to your place, thinking the environment of the library was much too sterile, not very helpful for making a struggling student feel comfortable. But it didn’t quite go how it normally does. He didn’t jump your bones the first time he came over. You didn’t fall into bed with him in a lustful craze and subsequently madly in love with the boy. Not even close.

He was nervous, quite painfully so the first few times. Whether it was the vulnerable environment getting tutored for a class you really shouldn’t be failing, knowing his cocky attitude or athlete title wouldn’t make a difference here, or how taken aback he was at how pretty you really were up close, the first three weeks were professional and timely. Only when you suggested he come over early for some coffee before starting studying and only after you offered he stay for some of the take out that had been delivered to you while he was there, did he start to relax. And even then, it was another two weeks before you texted outside of just arranging study times. For as methodical a pick up artist he seemed to be, this situation was clearly more of a tortoise over the hare type of deal.

In those stolen moments before and after studying, you slowly grew together and from strength to strength. He told you about his family when you shared details about your shitty highschool friends and he remembered that you were always most hangry on Wednesdays since you had kickboxing right before tutoring. It was natural really the way he started dropping his book down on the same side of the table right next to you rather than across, and how he would push your hair behind your ear when you were explaining something hunched over the textbook. It was so natural how you started to grab his bicep more when praising him for doing something right and how you would sit so close on the couch together afterwards that hushed whispers were the loudest you needed to speak. In fact, you’ll be damned if you actually remember the exact moment you went from friends to something more, the transition so seamless you don’t have a memory of the first time you kissed.

But eventually you did start to end up in bed together. Whether after your study session or maybe as a tiny break in between chapters or maybe “we just don’t even need to study because you seemed like you understood things well enough when you were here well… yesterday.”

“So I mean basically all this problem is about is supply and demand. There’s a lot of red herrings here that they’re trying to distract you with. Can you tell me what the product is and the initial supply and demand relationship? Before the market change?” You’re busy looking over the word problem trying to figure out how to step Jack through it next. But he’s taking an unusually long time to answer your question. You turn to look at him. Jack seems lost, but about what you’re not sure.

“Isn’t that a fish? A red herring?” He asks. You can’t help but sigh that THAT is all he decided to selectively hear from your initial question.

“Yes, Hughesy, but it’s also an expression that means a piece of information that is distracting from the main point. Kind of like what you’re doing right now.” The second part you mutter under your breath though and turn back to the book. More silence.

“...I’ve caught a tuna once, y'know.”

“Jack! Focus!” Your chastising facade is easily disintegrated by an accompanying giggle. Jack looks satisfied, a little grin on his face that matches yours. Always the class clown. He’s more than happy he got you to smile and stop your tutor act. Though he doesn’t like how you sigh in slight frustration while setting your pencil down. He reaches a hand out to touch your thigh. The gesture makes you shiver.

“Hey I’m sorry. I think I understand it already though, there was a really similar practice problem I did before hockey today.” His soothing tone is matched by the gentle movements of his thumb on your skin. It takes you a moment to really hear what he said but then you smile.

“You did practice problems today? Before practice? Without me assigning them to you?” You’re almost bashful when you ask, finally catching him in a moment of softness that you adored so much. It doesn’t go unnoticed by a blushing Jack either.

“Yeah I did. I don’t wanna look totally stupid when we study y’know.” It’s sassy as always. You can hear the vulnerability though, you know him too well now. His expression morphs into more of a smirk, one side of his lips pinned higher up than the other. Jack reaches out his unoccupied hand to toy with a piece of your hair before slipping it behind your ear. “Was also hoping we could spend some time doing something else if I already understood the chapter.” His voice is a few steps lower and his eyes have already drawn more hooded as he looks you over. He’s trying to find the answer in your eyes. You fight an inner battle between what’s in your pants and what’s in your head.

On one hand the past couple days of fooling around had been amazing but rationally you know this can’t end up being good for your tutoring situation. So do you give up or give in? As much as you wish the personal turmoil to be more prolonged, you think you already made up your mind how today would end when you first let Jack into your apartment looking so good in that backwards hat and flannel combo. You want him. He’s only empowering you with the way he’s running his hungry eyes over you. Fuck it. Professional tutoring and casual sex could both coexist right? Even so, you know the clench in your heart wasn’t from nerves but a clairvoyant reaction to how knotted this web would end up.

In an attempt to stamp down the thought, you surge forward to kiss Jack. He’s ready to meet your lips, catching you in a soft but intent kiss. It’s only an extended moment before you pull away. His lips chase yours and the smirk that used to be on his face is now transferred to yours. You stand up.

“You coming?” It’s a rhetorical question tossed over your shoulder on your way to your bedroom. No chance in hell he wouldn’t follow.

“Not right now Y/N geez. I can last at least 20 minutes, you know that.” Jack is quick to joke, wrapping his arms around you from behind and waddling as a pair toward your room.

“Eww Hughes, I hate you.” You can’t help but laugh. His lips find their way to your neck and you can feel his smile.

“Shh I bet you won’t be saying that in 19 minutes and 55 seconds, pretty.”

Jack was so gentle, he took his time to learn your body and constantly praise you for being so good for him. And after he learned you, you learned him, how he was rougher after games and always enjoyed a sneaky bout of morning sex. You never bothered to ask if he was seeing other girls too and frankly didn’t want to pain yourself with the thought. While Jack was with you, he was yours and that was enough.

Things were sticky from the get go. He’d always linger to ensure some pillow talk and maybe make you giggle a few times before he felt truly satiated. There were even times he’d come over after a tough loss and just follow you into the shower where you’d wash his body and let him hold you tenderly as long as he needed. Jack would bring you coffee when he knew you’d had an 8am and ask about how your sibling was doing. If you were really honest with yourself, you’d felt those butterflies and that childlike glee to just be in his company from that third week when you’d asked him to come early for coffee. Call it self destruction but knowing you could have him like this, however, taboo and hush hush it is, is better than what you were before when he didn’t even know you existed and what you might’ve been if he’d picked you as just another one of his conquests.

---

Jack's POV

The boys are already raging by the time Jack rolls up with John and Dawson. ‘It’s a weekend tradition,’ they say, to have a house party whenever they don’t have a Saturday game, since those occasions are so sparse. Obviously in between these off weekends are normal parties but those are much more lowkey. Normally, he’d be down but they haven’t had one of these full on ragers in like a month and a lot has happened in the last month.

Jack really wishes you could be here, or that he didn’t have to be… your bed is so comfy. But it’s more than her god damn bed. From day one you never patronized him or made him feel stupid for not understanding fucking econ 102. You were entirely what Jack wasn’t looking for but desperately needed at just the right time. Some stability, a person separate from the rink. Trustworthy, someone who didn’t get to know him just for hockey. You’re smart and fuck… so gorgeous. It was really intimidating at first, trying to understand something he didn’t give a rat’s ass about while a pretty girl who didn’t know how pretty she was looked at him through her big glasses. After a while it wasn’t intimidating any more, just so god damn distracting. Always getting him coffee, doing things to make his life easier, hugging Jack so tight when he’d come and go.

If he was honest he’d been hoping to get into bed with you from like the second week, but he knew you weren’t that type of girl, the type he normally would take home for one night and one night only. He’d known you were different and he wanted that; he wanted you. And for more than just a single fuck. So he’d waited. You were so gentle with him and Jack swears it’d felt like he’d just smoked a whole j by myself when you kissed him finally. At least he thinks it was you that kissed him first… Maybe Jack had actually smoked a whole j before coming over, you made him so fucking nervous at first. Not anymore though. Now you just make him smile and laugh and feel warm.

He seems like a fucking simp which would be fine if he and you weren’t in the trenches of no man’s land right now. He doesn't really do this type of thing, the whole relationship thing. But he does want that with you, he just doesn't know how and he doesn't know if you want him too. Jack’s always worried you might see him as just his reputation. He’s worried you won’t be able to trust him not to hurt you. But you don’t hurt the people you love.

Every moment you’re not with him he feels like he’s looking for you (like right now) and that’s because time spent with you doing nothing is always better than time spent without you. Jack’s so fucking into you it hurts and drives him a little crazy but he’d rather stay in between than lose you completely.

“Holy fuck did you hear a word of that Hughes?” Nico shakes Jack’s shoulder and he knows he’s been caught in his daze. He tries to recover from looking like an absolute space cadet.

“Nah dude I’m never usually listening when you talk, haven’t you noticed?” This causes some chuckles and a punch to the shoulder from Nico, but he smiles at Jack anyway. “We getting some drinks here or what boys?” He asks, trying to push the conversation away from his la la land behavior. The group moves en masse toward the open bar that one of their other teammates set up. Jack doesn't escape the attention for long though.

“Haven’t seen you pick anyone up in a while? Something wrong with the little guy?” John chirps, giving Jack a crotch punch. Miles laughs so hard from over the shot glasses he spills some of the Tito’s he was pouring out.

“Fuck off John no. Just haven’t been feeling like a random fuck lately.” Jack scratches the back of his neck for once hating all the fucking eyes on him.

“Haven’t been feeling like it? Has hell frozen over?” Nico absolutely refuses to let it go. Jack doesn't even know what to say so he just turns and glares at him reaching for a filled shot glass. He tosses it back.

“Is this a fucking party or what boys? I’m not the only one drinking, am I?” The boys take the bait and soon Jack’s the least important of their thoughts as much as they’re the least important of his.

The arena is buzzing. Home game against MSU with 14 seconds left in the period. They’re tied 3-3. And he’s sweating his balls off. Absolutely gassed. Jack puts his hand up for Ian to throw him a towel, quickly popping his cage open and wiping off his forehead. Jack takes the opportunity to look over at the MSU bench. Their coach has a whiteboard out drawing up a play to score since they’ve got an o-zone faceoff. Coach Naurato just told them to break up whatever play MSU was planning. Very helpful.

Jack’s mind starts to wander a bit, wondering if you’re seated somewhere in the student section. He knows you come to games but didn’t ask about this one; he’d forgotten the last time you-- erm “hung out.”

The refs’ whistle luckily refocuses Jack’s mind back on the game. It’s go time. An icing meant he was back out there with the boys for this crucial moment. They had to stretch things to OT. No way was MSU scoring.

He takes his position at the edge of the circle, to the left of his tendie. As soon as the puck drops Jack feels like he’s in slow motion. He moves hard out on the point searching for a loose puck or being ready to pry one loose. MSU’s centerman raked the puck back but Jack gets to it first skating as fast as he fucking can out of the pile. He’s moving despite his screaming legs, the lactic acid being almost too much to bear.

He sees he’s got one of his liney’s to the left but has to get around the MSU defender first. Jack goes for a little chip play, which surprisingly gets around the d-man, despite his good gap. Jack’s in disbelief at this point, skating for his goddamn life; he could win this game for them.

The MSU goalie is being aggressive, creeping out of his crease to make himself bigger. But Jack’s still got his guy. A quick passing play and Jack re-receives the puck, psyching out the goalie just enough to find some space and sneak the puck in backdoor. Score.

Jack blacks out. Completely unsure what to do with himself, he starts frantically skating around the rim of the rink, arms up in the air as his teammates mob him against the glass. He’s fully screaming. He can feel the whole arena rumbling around him going absolutely nuts. Jack swears he’s never been happier than in this moment. They’ve won the game 4-3.

----

He’s out of press as quickly as possible. It’s not very extensive for D1 hockey players but there were still a few questions for the game winning goal scorer. Jack is still pumped full of adrenaline, hands practically shaking he’s so hyped up. He can think of only one person he wants to see right now, elevated testosterone sending his brain into a primal state.

“I’m coming over.” He texts. He’s never been so forward before, but his dumb boy brain can only think about one thing. For a split second Jack considers sending a follow up to ease the pushiness but he decides against it, shoving his phone in his dress pants pocket and making haste toward your apartment.

He knocks at the door shifting impatiently, annoyed by an incessant itch he knows only you can scratch. You pull open the door and are suddenly standing in front of him; Michigan hoodie covering your frame and smooth legs exposed by a pair of sweatshorts. You seem a little shy unlike usual but still smile at Jack. Damn, has she always been this pretty? His lust works to heighten his senses.

Jack is swift, grabbing you and pulling you up around his waist. His hands fall greedily to your ass supporting you but also trying to relieve some of the tension in him by copping a feel. You’re feverish when you bring his lips to yours for a fiery kiss. There’s nothing innocent about it. His feet begin to move you both subconsciously toward your room as you make out with a fervor. The smell of your perfume swirls around him and fills his nose, fueling his lustful delirium further. You’re putty in his hands, arching generously into him, gasping wantonly for his kiss. Jack kisses you again and again even after breaking away until you can’t take anymore of the Dyonisian exchange.

“Please--” Your plea is clipped and breathy. You’re not even sure if at first you know exactly what you’re asking for. But Jack hears you. He feels the way your body is screaming, vibrating electrically at his display. It strokes his ego in just the way his caveman mind needed.

“Yeah? You need me baby? Saw me score and now you need me to fuck you?” Jack’s almost taunting, his voice a few steps lower than usual. You feel no shame in giving into his provocation. You nod hastily, begging with your eyes rather than your words. Jack smirks, setting you on the floor of your room before backing himself toward the bed. He sits down, hands going behind him so he can lean back on his arms. He looks so cocky but still so sexy. Jack raises his eyebrows looking you over from where you stand stiffly before him.

“Well? On your knees baby, show me you deserve to be fucked.” He spits, making no move to do any of the work. You stumble forward, dropping to the floor in front of him and reaching greedily for his belt buckle. “There’s my good girl. Gonna let me fuck your throat sweetheart?” It’s condescending but it makes your stomach flutter. You love when he’s dominant. You wrestle his belt buckle open, beginning to tug on his dress pants. When you look up at him with doe eyes, pleading for him to do as he pleases with you, you see his smug smile.

“Yeah ‘course you are. Always such a slut for me.”

It all gets a little blurry after that first shot. Suddenly, he doesn’t remember a damn thing. Until Jack sees you.

---

Y/N POV

You think it’s part of your dream at first, the incessant buzzing. But it’s coming from a flower in the garden and that doesn’t seem quite right… it’s still another fews rings before you fully flutter your eyes open. Still in a daze from sleep inertia, you reach blindly for your phone, holding it to what you think is your ear, and answering the call.

“H-hello?” You croak out, coughing almost immediately. The response on the other line is slow and you nearly fall back asleep in the second it takes them to speak.

“Hi umm sorry is-- is this Y/N?” Even in your haze you know that it’s weird that someone who’s calling you at the ass crack of morning isn’t sure of the name of the person they’re calling. It’s then you manage to sit up and pull your phone away from your ear to look at the caller ID. ‘Jacky Hughes.’ You’re even more confused now, because that voice certainly isn’t Jack and how the fuck does someone have his phone and why the fuck are they calling you?

“Uhhhhh yeah but who are you? Why do you have Jack’s phone?” You ask. The response is quicker this time.

“Shit sorry-- fuck this is John I’m buddies with Jack. Ummm we’re at the hockey house right now having a party but Jack is wasted and he just-- he kept asking for Y/N. ‘Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, where is she? I miss her. I miss my girl. Why isn’t she here?’ Really sappy shit and I mean none of the boys knew he had a girl so we’re like ‘Jack what the fuck are you saying man’ and he won’t explain he just keeps going on and on blah blah about Y/N. So we grab his phone right, and go through his contacts and look for a ‘Y/N’ and ta da, you’re the only one in there so we figured it had to be you he was talking about. Anyway, can you come get him? He's, like, totally plastered right now.”

‘John’ as he calls himself, is “like totally plastered right now” also, based on that rambly explanation. But really you don’t need any more convincing to drop what you’re doing (more like weren’t doing) and go to pick up a drunk Jack.

“Yeah… yeah I’ll come now just uhh drop me a pin or something.” You barely wait for John to answer before ending the call to slip on some shoes, a hoodie, and grab your keys. As you lock your door on the way out, a text comes in with a location just like you asked for.

You’d never been to the hockey house before but fuck it wasn’t hard to miss at this hour. Pretty multi color lights can be seen changing color inside and while the noise wasn’t atrocious it was certainly obvious. You risk it with double parking despite your nagging anxiety as it’s 3am and you don’t have time to find legal parking. You begin to tread up toward the porch but don’t have to go too far before your night vision fixes on a scene that makes you smile.

Jack is sitting on the grass with his back against a tree mumbling incoherently, from the distance you’re at. There’s a few boys with him: some on the grass as well, one swinging on an epic rope swing tied from the tree and another just standing with his arms crossed. As you get closer you can make out Jack’s pouty face and loose limbs. The boy standing looks rather paternal as he monitors your toddler of a boyf-- erm.. friend. Thankfully, you don’t have to announce your presence as said paternal man notices you walking up.

“Hey are you uh-- Y/N was it?” He calls out. You nod but before you can speak Jack opens his big mouth just as you come to a stop in front of the group.

“Aww Y/N she’s so pretty y’know-- wait you said she was coming, where is she Nico?” You look to see if Jack’s just suddenly lost all competency but notice that his eyes are closed. Your fond smile is involuntary. By now the rest of the belligerent boys have noticed your presence and are prodding at Jack saying ‘bro she is here’ ‘you’re so stupid Hughes’ and ‘oh my god dude.’

“Shhhh my head hurts be quiet you dumb fucks.” Jack chastises through a rather endearing hiccup. You move directly in front of Jack now, sinking into a squat to be almost eye level with him. Well you would be if he’d open his fucking eyes.

“Hey Jacky…” You call gently, placing your hand over his knee. He shifts only slightly.

“Only Y/N calls me that.” Jack whines, a lilt of sadness to his voice. Some of the boys have started laughing, egging him on while Nico just swears under his breath. Jack’s childishness makes you giggle.

“Open your eyes dumbass.” You add now, squeezing his knee and giggling still. Jack furrows his brow and shakes his head side to side.

“Sometimes when I close my eyes, I can still hear her voice.” You’re fully laughing now, heart bursting with affection for this drunken fool. The Greek chorus opens their big mouths some more, fully ragging on Jack now: ‘Are you fucking serious bro’ and ‘Hughesy you idiot.’

The wheels seem to start turning, granted at a glacial pace, from all the berating. Jack shakes his head and you pat his leg encouragingly, his pretty eyes finally opening. When your eyes meet, he gasps comically loud and breaks into a beaming grin. It makes you feel even weaker for him.

“Oh my god, Y/N!!” He lifts an arm and starts flinging his hand about trying to find your face, to touch part of your body. You think he wants to hold your cheek but you’d rather he didn’t slap you in the face in the process. Gently you pick up his hand and rest your face against it.

“Hi stud.” You murmur at him, and even though he’s so inebriated that he doesn’t have control of his limbs, his thumb somehow begins to stroke your cheek. His head lulls to the side like a love sick puppy and he marvels at you with his starry gaze. He fish mouths for a moment before finding his words.

“Is this a dream? Y’know I’m spinning so fucking bad right now I can see about three Y/N’s and that honestly sounds like fucking heaven to me. Must be a dream…” Jack mutters, almost to himself.

“Sorry to disappoint but I’m as real as that econ test you have on Monday Jacky. Glad to see you’re spending your weekend wisely.” The boys around you can’t help but chuckle at your rather mom-ish chirp. A few ‘gottems’ can be heard. Despite the roasting, it appears that Jack couldn’t care less. A delighted gasp leaves his lips and a sunshine-y smile rises on his lips.

“Oh my god it IS you! I told Nico I wanted you to come get me and here you are! Will you take me home? Home to your’s? John’s being mean and Dawson isn’t as pretty as you.” He pouts as he says all this, making your heart clench. Home, he said. Your place. You’re already nodding without realizing. And if you lean forward to press a kiss to his cheek, it’s involuntary too.

“Yeah hun let’s go. I’ve got Welch’s in the car and a Ziploc bag with your name on it.” Your fingers run through his hair to soothe him just how you’ve learned to when he’s sober. You think he makes a move to stand and get his feet under himself but that battle is short lived. His ass stays firmly planted on the ground.

“Geez Hughes here let’s go buddy. We got ya… yup there we go.” His friends are quick to claim limbs and hoist the 180 pound gentle giant off the dirt. You thank them and point out your car. Jack’s head lulls backwards so that he can still look at you even while he’s being carted off to your vehicle. The giddy smile doesn’t seem to leave his face.

“What are you guys?” The abruptness catches you off guard and shatters your daydreaming. You turn to find Nico, the most sober of the group and the ringleader it seems.

“Huh? Oh umm-- we… we hook up I guess. Yea…” You stutter badly but this is your first time talking about your situation with Jack out loud. It’ll have to do.

“Hook up... like... repeatedly? No, sorry, I mean like, he comes back to you or-- fuck I’m tryna say like he-- he doesn’t-- you’re not a fuck and chuck?” You’re at least grateful Nico is lacking some eloquence as well right now. Still, you’re unsure how to go on. You laugh awkwardly.

“No-- or wait I mean yeah? We’ve uhh yeah been hooking up for a couple months or three I think now. I was asked to tutor him in econ at the start of the semester.” Nico looks shocked but you watch as his face morphs in accordance with the wheels turning up top. He smiles all of a sudden.

“Well fuck me. He said he had a pretty study buddy so I guess that’s why he’s been so MIA. Probably should’ve put that one together sooner.” Nico laughs at his blatant idiocy. You smile and shrug not really knowing what to say. He hasn’t really said anything that you can respond to.

“He doesn’t even eat when he gets back most of the time. If he gets back at all obviously.” You blush at the implication as he continues to glue the pieces together in his head.

“Yeah we usually cook together or order something.” Your admittance is bashful. You kick some rocks with your shoes as you continue walking behind the carrying party toward your car.

“Wow. I’m shocked really. I mean I’ve never seen him or heard of him spending this much time with a girl before. You must be special.”

You must be special.

It’s what you’ve been wanting to hear for months now, just from the wrong person.

“Y/NNNNN!” Jack whines from the passenger's seat of your car where he’s been deposited haphazardly, albeit in one piece. You roll your eyes affectionately, walking around towards him.

“Thanks boys. ‘Preciate it.” You smile at the group, shifting your weight awkwardly between both feet. John breaks the silence.

“Tell him to bring you around sometime. We wanna meet you for real. Seems like he really likes you.”

Seems like he really likes you.

“Sure thing. Thanks again.” You smile and offer a small laugh and wave. Quickly you look down to your boy-- no, Jack, and see him staring at you.

“I told them that.” He mumbles drowsily.

“Told ‘em what bub?” You ask leaning over him to buckle his seatbelt and push all arms and legs inside the vehicle.

“That I really like you.”

I really like you.

You pause for a moment, looking him over warily, heart fluttering. He’s smiling at you just as genuinely as he normally would when sober. It’s calming for the moment and inclines you to believe him even in his drunken state. Despite how desperately you want him to sober up so you can hear the real truth, your nervous stomach accepts his admittance for the time being. You smile back at him and bend to kiss him on the lips. It’s just a peck but satiates the boy fully. He giggles gleefully when you pull away and meet his eyes again.

“Alright Jacky hun, let’s get you home.”

------

After waking up at 2 in the morning to collect a 5'11” drunken idiot, you’d think he’d have the decency to let you sleep in. Wishful thinking apparently.

“Y/N… Y/N! Wake up please!” Though Jack’s being gentle he’s still shaking you awake, a rather jarring way to come around. You groan loudly, letting him know how exasperated you’re feeling. Your hands reach blindly to push him away from you. Jack’s even more stubborn than you are though. “Please baby, I needa talk to you.” He’s gentler this time, leaning down to kiss your neck and rub at your side. The coaxing works wonders in getting you to peak an eye open.

Jack looks adorable really. Soft hair flopping into his face and some dark blue bags under his eyes. He’s wearing a soft smile and the look in his eyes is one of adoration. It almost melts away your annoyance. Almost.

“Jacky, what do you want? Are you still drunk? Why the fuck did you wake me up?” You whine. He just continues to look at you gently. He bends to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Hi gorgeous, I’m sorry. I-- I had to wake you up because well I blacked out last night which you obviously saw, but I woke up from my blackout when you were sitting in front of me smiling and telling me I was an idiot for not studying for our econ test. And I couldn’t wait another hour or more for you to wake up. I needed to tell you now that-- that I remember what I said and it was true. I like you, I really do. I’m so fucking into you it’s a little stupid and I’m tired of all this in between bullshit. I’ve wanted to be with you from like the second week we studied together and I don’t just wanna have sex anymore-- I mean don’t get me wrong it’s great and I would very much like to continue having sex with you but umm what I mean is I wanna introduce you to my friends and brag about you to them. About how my girl is so smart and funny and sexy and that she makes me laugh and fuck I’d ditch boys night for you because I like you that much. You make me feel so happy and safe. I love being around you no matter what we’re doing and I want you to be around me all the time. And I think I know that I’m not one sided in feeling this because I don’t think anyone could endure the pain of being so close to a couple but not actually being official unless they would give up the world for that person and well… I would, I would give up the world for you and I hope that-- okay well that’s a lot to ask that you’d give up the world for me back but I hope that you at least like me too. Please tell me you do cause I’m so into you babe and I want it all with you. Late nights and early mornings… the fights and the love… the future. I’m not scared of losing you from saying how I feel because I’ve been yours for months now, so what’d you say? Be mine?”

It’s almost too much all at once. You’re so tired and delirious and here’s this soft looking boy holding you in bed under the sheets, fingers dancing along your waist while he stares into your eyes and bares his soul to you. He had you at ‘I like you’ because it’s all you’ve been wanting to hear for months. Everything else was just sweet fluff that you more than loved but didn’t even need to hear make your decision. He says he’s been yours for months now but what he doesn’t realize is you’ve been his for just as long. And yeah, you’d give up the world for him too. All there’s left to say is yes.

You giggle at him pulling him down for a soft kiss. It’s a vessel for your emotion. An outpouring of love and devotion. You want him to feel that your actions mirror his words.

“Of course, Jack. I’m yours if you’re mine.” He beams down at you, smiling so wholly you think his face might get permanently stuck like that. He buries his face in your neck kissing you there.

“Thank god.” He sighs. “I know I sounded all confident but I was still kinda shitting it that I might’ve had it all wrong there.”

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #new jersey devils #new jersey devils hockey #njd #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #nico hischier #quinn hughes #luke hughes #john marino #dawson mercer #so sorry but tagging for visibility <3 #my writing

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laukoslovergirl · 5 days ago

Text

Boston's Bad Bitches (2)

Pt.1

Pairing: Wotherspoon!reader x the 3B's (Boston's bad bitches GC) (Platonic!Matthew Poitras, Brother!Parker Wotherspoon, Platonic!Jeremy Swayman, Platonic!Trent frederic, Platonic! John Beecher, Platonic!Mason Lohrei)

Warnings: language

Summary: more of baby spoon's sheniangians with the 3B's

Ask and you shall receive

Serious question. Who do you think baby spoon is going to end up with?? Or who do you want her to end up with??

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toasttt11 · 7 months ago

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trust

April 16, 2024

Lucia bit her lip smiling softly as John gently pulled back and away from her lips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” John asked softly as he held her face delicately in his hands, he wished to stay with her longer but he had to pack up his apartment with everything he’s bringing home.

Lucia had told John once he got back that she told her siblings and she was sure that Jack had already told her parents too and John just smiled and said he had called his twin when he went to get breakfast and told him as well and Paul told their parents for John already.

John had an idea to ask Lucia tomorrow and he hoped she would said yes and it wasn’t too soon for it.

“Tomorrow.” Lucia repeated soflty and pressed a kiss on John’s freckle next to his lip and gave him one more soft smile before he reluctantly turned around and walked out of her apartment and she watched him the whole way until he got into the elevator and the shut her front door.

Lucia leaned her back on her front door letting out a breath and rubbing her face.

Lucia shook her head smiling to her self before she walked to the living room and smiled softly seeing John left his hoodie and pulled it on and inhaled deeply smelling John’s scent before she plopped onto the couch and grabbed the blanket throwing it over her and turning her phone on.

Lucia was just scrolling through her phone for a little while before her phone started buzzing for a facetime in her group chat with Dylan, Ethan and Mark and she answered she saw all of boys faces and smiled softly, she missed seeing them all the time.

“Cece!” Dylan happily beamed greeting his best friend.

“Hey.” Lucia smiled back.

Ethan beamed and Mark smiled happily at her.

Lucia contently listening to her boys tell her all about their week as she hadn’t been able to talk much the past few days so they had quite alot to catch up on.

Lucia was mostly just laughing and pipping in with a chirp every once in a while.

“Ok okay enough about us. What’s going on with you Cece?” Mark sweetly asked his best friend.

It was a very weird adjustment for Dylan, Ethan and Mark to not have Lucia with them all the time, she wasn’t sitting next to them in class, wasn’t in the locker room, wasn’t sitting in their booth at the cafe, wasn’t on her spot on the couch for movies nights. They slowly got use to it and it makes them pretty excited to hear about what she has been doing away from them.

“Uh..” Lucia trailed off and flushed slightly, “John asked me to be his partner yesterday.” Lucia admitted with surprisingly giddy smile.

Ethan, Dylan and Mark all shared a look they have heard all about John and at first they thought he was just becoming a good friend to Lucia but over time they quickly realized that was not what was happening.

The three were skeptical of John and rightfully so after how Mackie broke Lucia heart and Mackie was their friend before he did so.

But the three also knew they had to trust Lucia’s judgment and John had to be pretty special if he managed to get past Lucia’s walls and makes her this smiley and blush so easily.

Besides they could John the shovel talk once they see him in person.

“When did he ask you?” Ethan questioned curiously.

“He asked me last night.” Lucia answered playing with the sleeves on John’s hoodie.

“I’m happy for you Cece.” Mark smiled softly at his best friend, “If John makes you happy that’s all i could wish for.”

“We are all happy for you Cece.” Dylan corrected but still softly smiled at her.

“He’s obviously a good guy and if you trust him, we trust him.” Ethan reassured her, they were all still weary after Mackie especially with how much he had hurt all of them but John earned Lucia’s trust slowly and John never pushed Lucia once to be ready.

Lucia smiled appreciatively at her best friends and couldn’t wait to have her best friends meet John in person.

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scariusaquarius · 2 years ago

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moonlight blues.

John Marston x fem! reader

Summary: it's another sleepless night, and you aren't able to sleep once again. Deciding to get some fresh air, a certain ex-outlaw finds you tending to a fire and things get a little...steamy.

A/n: smut with Marston? Well of course. I aint a whore for nothing lmao. I hope you enjoy!

Genre: Erotica Rated: Explicit Warning: it's filthy as fuck, oral (female receiving), hair pulling, biting, idk what other warning to put lmfao

Author: scariusaquarius

It was a late night in Beecher’s Hope. The animals had long since begun to sleep, the sun had already fallen below the horizon, and though everyone else in the ranch had gone to bed, you were still completely awake. There had been many sleepless nights since you had come to live at the ranch, but you hadn’t bothered to speak about it.

If nobody asked about it, then there was no point just to come out and say it, right?

Sighing as you stared up at the ceiling, you kicked off the covers and slipped on a comfortable pair of jeans. Slipping your boots on, you grabbed a coat and your hat, and quietly made your way out of the house. Like a teen sneaking out, you made sure to maneuver around the floorboards to avoid stepping on the ones that squeaked so John wouldn’t wake up and question you.

It was better if nobody asked you any questions.

Rufus was laying by the door, sleeping peacefully until you approached. Tilting his head slightly, the dog made a groaning noise as he stretched, and you whispered softly.

“Go back to bed, Rufus. I won’t be long.”

Rufus just laid his head back down, still watching you closely as you stepped out into the cool night air. Breathing deeply, you felt almost refreshed as you walked off the porch and into the moonlight. The stars were beautiful, spying a shooting star, and you quietly made a wish before walking to the firepit. Grabbing some wood, you nursed a fire, sitting beside the flames and soaking in its warmth.

You missed these nights when you would sit by the fire, roasting some fish or squirrel that you had caught earlier in the day. If you focused hard enough, you could hear the strum of Javier’s guitar and his singing; could still hear Arthur’s laughter as he joked around with Bill; could still hear Dutch going on about some sideways philosophy he had read from that damn book of his.

While you certainly didn’t miss the gang after Dutch’s downfall and Arthur’s death, you did miss the good moments...the moments where you still believed in the gang you called your family. You didn’t dwell too much on the gang nowadays...but when you were sleepless, it was all you could think about.

Was Mary Beth writing her books? Was Pearson settled down and cooking for the love of his life? Was Karen still out there robbing people blind? Taking a swig of a beer you had grabbed from the crate on the porch, you sighed and stared long and hard into the fire. There wasn’t really much use on wondering, but it was still a curiosity you couldn’t help but to entertain.

A noise made you become startled, and you were surprised to see John settling onto chair beside you, his tired eyes gazing into the fire. It was quiet for a moment, neither of you speaking a word before the silence became too much, and you suddenly felt as though you were caught doing something wrong.

“Did I wake you up, John?”

John shook his head, opening up a beer and taking a swig.

“Nah, I wasn’t sleeping much tonight. What the hell are you doing up so late, missy?”

You shrugged your shoulders, thumbing the rim of your beer absentmindedly as you pondered on how to respond.

“Same as you, I guess. Just can’t really sleep. Supposed I’d make myself useful and make a fire and just sit here for a while until I finally felt tired enough to sleep.”

John was quiet for a moment before he asked you, glancing over at you.

“Something on your mind?”

You paused for a moment before sighing, shrugging again as you looked away from him and took a long swig from your beer.

“Not really. Just thinking about the past...about the gang....how much I miss it though it wasn’t a good life to be living. I was just thinking that if I really focused...if I really remembered, I could still hear Javier playing his guitar and Arthur being a jackass to Bill.”

John chuckled, shaking his head.

“Never understood how Arthur and Bill got along at all.”

“One jackass to another, I think they just liked seeing who had better material for the other for the day.”

You and John snickered softly before it became quiet again. For some reason, you suddenly felt guilty, as if speaking on the past and how much you missed it would make John feel bad, and you blurted out.

“Even though I do miss it, I sure do like being here with you, though. It's almost strange... I feel like an actual person and not some money-hungry outlaw.....no offense."

John just chuckled before he shook his head.

"None taken...I'm glad you came here."

You felt your chest rumble with butterflies and could feel John's gaze on you. Slowly, you glanced over at him, and you both stared at one another before you finally looked away. You murmured.

"You know something, Marston? I think I'm glad I came here too."

Glancing at John, you spied a smile upon his scruffy face, his eyes soft as he looked at you, and a yawn suddenly came over you. John rubbed his chin slightly before he finished his beer, chugging what was left before he stood up.

Holding his hand out for you, you took John's hand so he could help you stand. Once you were stood upright, you turned and poured the remainder of your drink onto the fire to put out the flames, the hissing from the cold drink hitting the hot embers sending a reminiscent shiver down your spine.

You didn't forget the fact that John was still holding your hand tightly within his own.

Your heart was stuttering as he pulled you a little close, and you glanced down at your boots, noting how little space was between the tips of your toes and John's, and you could feel your mouth starting to go dry when you felt John's fingers gently come beneath your chin to pull your head up.

"Miss (L/n), may I kiss you?"

He was so polite, so smooth with his voice, and you were almost shy to look into his eyes that seemed like pools of black water beneath the dim light of the moon. His eyes were half-lidded, whether from the sleepiness or the desire, you weren't sure, but you were very sure of the beauty the man held.

God had created a masterpiece when he created John Marston.

Swallowing thickly, your voice shook slightly as you responded.

"I would like that very much, Mr. Marston."

John couldn't help but to flick his lips up into a half-smile before slowly leaning towards you. His slowness gave you time to retreat, to go back upon your consent if you wished to do so, but you stood firm.

When John's lips pressed against yours, your fingers tightened around his hand, and John responded by tightening his hold upon your chin. His breath was hot through his nose, and you shivered when a sudden cold breeze blew gently around you.

Boldly, in order to gain warmth, you came closer to John, placing one of your hands on the side of his neck. John relaxed against you, moving his hand from your chin to cup the back of your head, and his teeth gently nibbled on your bottom lip, begging for entrance.

Who were you to deny the man that had helped you become the woman you were today; that had given you a home filled with opportunities and peace; fearlessly free from the past?

John stole the very breath from your lungs, his tongue intertwining with yours, and your knees became weak. John pulled away from you, both of you panting softly, and John's voice was low and husky, electricity running up your spine with every word.

"Would you like to come inside with me?"

You whispered softly, almost untrusting of your own voice.

"What do you plan to do if I agree, Mr. Marston? I've heard outlaws like you ain't very kind to the ones they bring into their homes."

A slight smirk came upon your lips before disappearing, but John was attentive, catching it immediately. His hand moved from your neck to your hip, pulling you close enough to press against you.

"Oh, I'll be sure to be very kind to you, little lady."

You couldn't help but to nervously chuckle, and John leaned in close, brushing his lips against yours as he played with the buckle of your belt.

"Kindest I'll ever be."

"I hope you're a man of your word lest you wanna be turned in then, outlaw."

John bit his lip harshly before kissing you again, and he hummed softly into the kiss. Pulling away, John walked backwards, pulling you with him as he smirked down at you.

"Come on then. I ain't hanging anytime soon."

Walking into the house as quietly as you both could, you both got into his room, and it was like hell broke loose. John’s lips were all over you, kissing you deeply as his hands made quick work of your belt and the buttons of your shirt, and you were quick to get him undressed as well. Clothes were thrown haphazardly all around the room until you both were completely nude, and John pulled away from your lips to gently push you backwards onto the bed.

Bouncing slightly, you were almost shy as John took in your naked body, his grey eyes almost black from the desire. He hummed appreciatively, speaking so softly that you wouldn’t have heard him had you not been so focused on the man.

“Woman, I swear God knew what he was doing when makin’ you.”

Your cheeks became heated, flustered from his words, and you took that moment to take John's image in. Years from gunslinging and robbin' had decorated his body with scars, and all the time he had spent working in the ranch had made his body become strong and defined.

John was also well-equipped, his hard and girthy cock surrounded by trimmed black hair. The head of his manhood was pearled with precum, his balls large and healthy, ready to spend all of what he had to offer into you.

Your heart was racing as John crawled onto the bed, a predatory look within his eyes, and his lips carefully kissed your ankle. His kisses were slow, but sure, trailing up your leg before his teeth gently nibbled on your inner thigh. You sighed shakily, trailing your fingers through John's thick hair.

John sighed softly, relaxing into you before he settled between your legs, his large and warm hands pressing against your legs to completely spread them. Your gaze stayed on John, biting your lip when he met your gaze, and your lips parted when John's tongue began to lick stripes against your entrance.

John was certain yet calculated with his tongue, pressing hard enough to slip his tongue inside of you, teasing you just enough to keep you squirming. Your fingers grabbed a hefty hold of John's hair and tugged, making the man let out a hiss and growl, his tongue pressing harder before his mouth encased your sensitive nub and sucked mercilessly.

You gasped, arching your back slightly, and John watched you carefully, trailing a hand up from your hip to your breast, squeezing gently before pinching your nipple, making you whimper softly.

"John..."

He gazed at you, swirling his tongue again, and you bit your lip to keep your noises quiet so as not to wake up anybody else in the house. John, however, seemed displeased.

"Don't go quiet on me now."

You whimpered as John pressed his fingers against your wet entrance, the sensation of his touch making your sex tingle. When John sunk his finger inside of you, you huffed softly, eyes closing and head falling back against the pillow. John carefully maneuvered himself so he was hovering above you while still pumping his finger in and out of you.

Gazing up at him, your hands came to his cheeks, and John immediately kissed you, groaning softly when his cock brushed against your thigh. Letting a hand come down his chest, you felt all the bumps from his scars and the toned muscles until they began to trail through the black hair just above his cock.

When your hand gently cupped his throbbing member, John couldn't help but to buck his hips slightly, groaning into your lips. His kiss became desperate, his finger pausing so he could add another finger and stretch you. You pulled away from John's lips to breathe, and John began to decorate your neck with hickies and marks; teeth digging into your flesh so deliciously that you couldn't help but to moan right into his ear.

The noise filled John with confidence, and the man slipped his fingers from your sopping sex. Moving slowly, John settled between your legs, grabbing his hard cock to guide him inside of you. Kissing you firmly, John pushed his cock inside of you slowly, swallowing your whimpers all the while until he was completely inside of you.

Taking a moment to calm himself, John cursed softly, whispering into your shoulder as his head hung low.

"My god, woman...You're gonna be the death of me."

You bit your lip, clutching his shoulders and pleading softly.

"John, please...want you to move...please...fuck me."

John's back stiffened, and his hips slowly moved, forcing his cock to move in and out of you slowly. You gasped softly, clutching gis shoulders tight, and John began a steady pace. His hair hung in his face, John's eyes trained on your face, and you whimpered.

"John..."

"I know, baby. Fuck, you feel so damn good. Ain't had a man like this, have you?"

You shook your head and John purred in delight. John's hand returned to your chest, gently clutching onto your breast before squeezing, and he pinched both of your nipples again before ducking his head and sucking. You gasped loudly, angling your hips up slightly and causing John's cock to reach deeper. John moaned softly before he pulled off of your nipples with an audible pop.

Sitting up, John grabbed a hold of your legs before beginning to fuck his cock into you. There was no way you were going to be able to stay quiet, and John knew it. The man was smirking slightly at you, watching you as you bit your lip and scrunched your face up, whining and clutching at the blankets lying beneath you.

"Ain't you pretty...such a sweet girl, taking me so well, fuck. So tight and warm...'m gonna fuck you so good, lady."

You moaned as John smacked his hips against yours, roughly thrusting, and you swore you could feel him in your lower abdomen. Placing your hand against your pelvis, you let out a shaky breath, and John let one of your legs go to press your hand firmly against your body.

"What, can you feel me? Feel my cock deep inside of you?"

He slowed down only to roughly thrust his hips, slowly fucking his cock as deeply into you as you could, and you gasped softly.

"Ah, so...so deep, John!"

John bit his lip, furrowing his brows upwards as your walls tightened and quivered around him, and he let out a shaky breath.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum if you keep squeezin' me like that."

Your head fell back, eyes closing, and John leaned down, kissing you deeply as you whined loudly. The bed was beginning to shake as John quickened his pace, and John was almost sorry he had to swallow your loud wails when his thumb began to rub your clit furiously.

Tighter and tighter, your walls squeezed him, making the man growl lowly from within his throat as you came all over him, and John pulled away to hang his head into the crook of your shoulder, clutching you close as his balls tightened and his cock throbbed. A few more thrusts, and John came hard, forcing himself deep into your sex and coating your walls with his seed.

John's thrusts slowly paused, and the two of you panted, and you made John lie down on top of you, holding him close and playing with the hairs at the back of his neck, twirling and twisting the black locks. John slowly caught his breath, enjoying your sweet attention before he asked tiredly.

"Are you alright?"

"Never better. Glad you don't gotta hang anytime soon."

John snorted, and you tiredly giggled before yawning, and John almost immediately yawned with you. John tried to move off of you, but you kept a firm hold of him, shivering as his cock moved while still inside of you.

"Stay here...I wanna hold you, John."

John looked surprised but didn't refuse, lying his head down on your chest, and you sighed softly before whispering.

"Thank you."

"What for?"

Came John's tired response, sounding surprised but complacent. You hummed softly, running your fingers up and down his back.

"Staying with me....letting me stay with you...I don't know."

John's lips formed a smile on your skin, and you huffed softly before chuckling with John.

"You're welcome, miss."

[END]

#john marston x reader #john marston #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr #rdr2

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