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megalony · 5 days ago

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You Are Enough

This is a new Tommy Kinard imagine, hopefully to bring a bit of fluff after the last 911 episode.

I hope you will all like it, feedback is always lovely.

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Tommy Kinard Masterlist

Summary: At a family dinner, (Y/n) and Buck find out a bombshell about their childhood and the reason they were born. Unable to cope, the pair of them drink themselves into oblivion. Tommy gets the drunken phone call afterwards.

Enjoy.

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A grimace crossed (Y/n)'s face and she hung her head down when she watched her mother walk into the kitchen.

Had it not been clear that (Y/n) had come in here to get away from their family for a few minutes? She hadn't intended to be followed and observed in the kitchen the same as she was at the dining table.

Her finger swirled around the rim of her glass and she arched her lower back out, clicking her spine into place before she held the stem of her glass and downed the remnants of wine left in the glass. She needed another drink. (Y/n) felt like drinking enough glasses until she felt and smelled like a brewery. She needed something to get her through this night with her parents.

"Another one?"

Resentment pooled in (Y/n)'s stomach when she felt her mother's eyes on her as she poured herself a drink.

Was she not entitled to another drink? It wasn't as if (Y/n) had drank a full bottle or more since she'd been here, she was allowed to get drunk if she wanted to.

She didn't bother to give her mother an answer, she simply poured herself a large glass of white wine until the bottle was empty and she could set it down near the sink. No point leaving a drop left in the bottle, not when (Y/n) was more than eager to drink the rest of it up.

"What are you wearing, honey?" Margaret danced her eyes up and down (Y/n)'s frame while (Y/n) slowly straightened up. Her fingers clenched around her glass until her nails were close to leaving splinter marks in the tall glass.

She wondered how long it would be before her mother commented on her attire. (Y/n) saw no need to dress up tonight, not for a family meal round at Maddie and Chimney's apartment. It didn't matter what she wore, her mother always made some sort of remark. She would say dresses didn't suit (Y/n), she was showing too much cleavage or it didn't go down her thighs enough and looked too revealing. Or the material wasn't right and made her look odd.

It seemed to be her mother's favourite game to try and nit-pick until (Y/n)'s temper went bust.

"It's one of Tommy's shirts." She shrugged and took another gulp of her drink but the way her mother narrowed her eyes and looked at her made (Y/n) shiver.

"Maybe you should wear your own clothes, or don't they suit you?"

"Tommy's stuff suits me just fine." The snappy edge to her voice made Margaret's nose scrunch and she looked away from her daughter.

(Y/n) liked wearing her partner's clothes, especially when he wasn't around. His smell stuck to his clothes and it calmed (Y/n) down and made her feel at ease. It made her feel like he was here with her when he was really on shift. Tommy would be finishing his shift in an hour or so if he was on schedule and not held back, and by the time (Y/n) got home tonight she should be able to find her partner curled up in bed.

She wanted to be home right now. She wanted to be home waiting for Tommy to get back.

In an ideal world, Tommy would have been here with them. He had had years of experience with tough parents after dealing with his sadistic father and a depressed mother. He would of been fine with the cold remarks, he would of brushed them off and made light out of the situation and he would of kept (Y/n) calm. But he wasn't here, and her patience was wearing thin.

Shaking her head, (Y/n) turned away and walked back through towards the dining room. But she quickly diverted towards the living room when she realised everyone had filtered through there. Rightfully so, considering dinner had now finished. No point sitting at the table when they could relax on the sofa.

When she spotted Buck sat on the end of the sofa, (Y/n) made a beeline for him and plonked down next to him so she was in the middle of the sofa. If she was going to get through the rest of this night, she had to be close to her twin.

She felt a little more at ease when Maddie sat down next to her so all three siblings were in line on the sofa, and Chimney perched down on the arm rest next to Maddie. It was a bit of a tight fit for them all on the sofa, but they made it work. It was comfortable, cosy.

It meant (Y/n) wasn't directly close to either parent, with Phillip being in the armchair next to Buck and Margaret sat opposite him in the other chair that was nearer to Maddie. (Y/n) felt neutral in the middle, she felt protected and closed off from her parents, exactly how she wanted to be.

(Y/n) let herself slouch down a little more to try and get comfy and her fingers traced over the cold glass she was cradling like it was some sort of sacred object.

"Maddie, we got you a few things. It's not much, just a few bits for the baby."

(Y/n) leaned her head on her brother's shoulder, watching with a slight sense of boredom as their dad got up and set a bag down on the coffee table in front of Maddie.

She couldn't help but wonder that if at some time in the future, she herself got pregnant, would their parents make such a fuss? Would they insist on coming down to see (Y/n) if she were having a baby? Would they get her gifts and pay attention? Would they make more of a deal about Tommy like they were trying to do with Chimney? Would they finally think of Tommy as family?

After all, he and (Y/n) had been dating for a long while now, and they had talked about kids. They were thinking of trying for a baby- not that they would tell anyone that yet, not unless it actually happened.

She caught her sister's eye and both of them shared a smile as Maddie began to look through the gifts, unaware that (Y/n)'s smile was more forced than natural.

It was mainly a few baby grows, ranging from Winnie The Pooh to blushing pink, with a few teddies in the mix. (Y/n) handed a few across to Buck so he could look too once Maddie started handing the stuff to (Y/n) so her siblings could inspect and be nosey.

"These are lovely, thank you." Maddie folded the clothes back up once everyone had had the chance to look at them and she laid them on the table. It wasn't like they were crying out for baby things, the team had already given Maddie and Chimney more than enough items to keep their daughter clothed for the next five years, but it was the thought that counted.

The Buckley siblings didn't see their parents often, and although that was the way they liked it, receiving gifts was a nice offering.

"I can't believe it, our first grandchild." Margaret reached across and ran her hand up and down Maddie's knee, oblivious to the way that (Y/n) looked up to catch her brother's eye.

They both knew if they ever had kids, they wouldn't receive this kind of treatment. They wouldn't be fussed over like Maddie was, they would never be loved or favourtised like their elder sibling, and that was something they had come to terms with years ago.

Tilting her head down, (Y/n) rose her glass and took a large mouthful of wine that suddenly tasted bitter rather than sweet.

She wanted to go home.

She hated herself for feeling jealous and resentful towards Maddie because it wasn't her fault and (Y/n) loved her. She was truly happy that her big sister was finally happy and settling down to have a family of her own rather than parenting her two younger siblings.

But this only proved how left out (Y/n) and Buck were still feeling and they were in their twenties now, not little kids vying for their parent's attention. (Y/n) didn't want to sit here and watch her sister get fussed over and showered with gifts and love while she and her twin just sat there like ornaments.

The twins were here for decoration rather than to be involved, whether that was how the rest of them felt or not.

"What's in that box over there?" Chimney pointed across towards the pale cream box he could see near the window. He had seen Phillip bring it in when they arrived and he had done his best not to be nosey, but he was curious by nature and he wanted to know what else they had brought over.

"Oh," A smile animated Margaret's face and she hurried up to go and retrieve the box in question.

Both (Y/n) and Buck tried to lean over to catch a glimpse and curiosity perked in their eyes when they noticed Maddie was written in cursive writing across the lid in glittered, sparkling letters.

"The baby box I made when we had Maddie, here. I thought you might like it, maybe you could make one for your little girl."

A tremor tore through (Y/n) when she looked at the box and although she wasn't sure why, she felt something clawing at her chest. Like an animal hidden within her ribcage, desperately trying to break free. That box looked like an omen rather than a gift. It looked hazardous. Maybe that was because (Y/n) could see how much effort had been put into that box, and she knew.

She knew there wasn't one like that for her.

(Y/n) shuffled a bit closer to Buck's side and sat up straight with her arms resting on her thighs. She passed her wine glass back and forth between her hands while she arched forward and watched her sister intently. Even though she didn't want to know what little treasures their mum had kept from when Maddie was little.

But when she felt her twin lean over with one hand on her arm and the other rummaging through the box, she knew Buck felt it too. The slight displacement they had suffered through all their lives.

"That's so cool, did you bring ours?"

One little look at her mum was enough to cause a callous smile to cross (Y/n)'s face and she couldn't hide the tears welling up in her eyes. She had been right; there was no such box for the twins.

"We don't have one. Do we?"

Both parents stayed quiet, sharing a few looks with each other while Buck gripped (Y/n)'s arm and leaned closer to her as if to comfort his twin. He could feel her heart breaking and it made his own chest tighten like he was about to have a heart attack.

He rested his temple against the side of (Y/n)'s head and she was sure he tried to whisper something in her ear, probably some words of comfort. But whatever he said fell upon deaf ears when (Y/n) looked at Maddie.

She noticed Maddie trying to scrunch up a picture and slide it beneath her leg, something she always did when she was trying to hide something. Whether it was a bad report card she didn't want their parents seeing or a party invite she was trying to hide from the twins to make a big surprise.

(Y/n) wasn't sure what came over her, but she leaned away from Buck and snatched the picture from beneath Maddie's thigh before her sister could hide it or try and discard it. Whatever it was, Maddie clearly didn't want the twins to see and therefore (Y/n) had to know what it was.

She recognised that red bike.

It was the one they used to have in the garage, the one that presumably had been Maddie's when she was younger because their mother kept it even when Maddie outgrew it. She wouldn't allow the twins to touch it, let alone try and learn how to ride a bike with that red, tattered old thing.

But that wasn't Buck on the bike. (Y/n) knew what her twin looked like as a child, and this wasn't him. And when she turned the picture round and saw the date on the back, she noticed it was over a year before the twins had even been born.

"Who is that?"

Buck leaned over her shoulder to see what the picture was, and his hand clutched at (Y/n)'s arm tighter while his brows knitted together in confusion. He didn't recognise the little boy either.

When he looked between their parents sat either side of the sofa, Buck frowned to see that they had both turned as white as paper. There were tears welling up in their mother's eyes while Phillip was scratching the back of his neck out of nervous habit.

Yet it was the tears in Maddie's eyes that had both twins on edge. Why was she covering her mouth and trying not to cry? Why was she looking at them with such sorrow like that?

"Daniel."

"And who's he?" That name meant nothing to either of them. The twins shared a look but they were both coming up blank for answers.

"We, um… we had him two years after Maddie. He had leukemia, he, he passed when you two were only babies."

Every thought possible swirled round in (Y/n)'s head as she felt both her brother's hands on her shoulders like he didn't believe what he was hearing. This couldn't be possible. Why wouldn't they tell them? Why would they keep such a secret? Why would they keep this all to themselves? Were the twins not worthy of knowing they had a big brother they never got to meet?

"Wh- no. No you never told us- why wouldn't you tell us something like that? Why wouldn't you acknowledge him around us?" Buck's voice grew louder and louder with each word as his head snapped from left to right, trying to look between his parents who he didn't recognise right now.

There was no plausible explanation for hiding something like this. If Buck ever had kids and God forbid he lost one, he wouldn't erase them from existence and pretend they never happened. They had never celebrated Daniel's birthday. They never had pictures of him in the house- there were hardly any pictures of the twins in the house as it was. No one uttered his name or had any memory of him in the house.

"We lost him, Evan. We didn't want to live our lives mourning him-"

"So you chose to forget him?"

"Evan we would never-"

"You had us while he was sick? How long had he been diagnosed?" A frown pulled at (Y/n)'s lips while she set her glass down on the coffee table and clasped her hands together in her lap.

How stressful it must have been to look after twins and Maddie while their other child was dying. Going through a twin pregnancy would have been stressful enough without the added trauma of a sick child. But as (Y/n) thought everything over, she just happened to look up at her mother at the wrong time.

She had a look of sympathy in her eyes. Margaret never held such emotions for the twins like that.

"No, oh no. You… tell me you didn't…" The words wouldn't come out. All (Y/n) could do was let the tears fall from her eyes as she began to shake. Both her hands moved to cup her mouth as her jaw hung loose and her breathing came to an odd pattern.

"What? What, I don't understand." Buck moved both hands to grip (Y/n)'s forearms as he tried to lean in front of her to get her to look at him. Something daunting had crossed her face. Some sense of realisation had hit (Y/n) whereas it hadn't clicked in Buck's brain yet. He didn't understand what she had thought of.

When Maddie tried to take (Y/n)'s hand, the younger girl shook her off and leaned into Buck as if their sister was suddenly contagious.

"You said I wasn't planned, that I- I was the surprise, but Buck wasn't." (Y/n)wiped her eyes but the tears continued to fall. "We were donor babies, weren't we?"

The way Margaret's lower lip wobbled and Phillip refused to look at either of them while he pressed his hands to his mouth secured (Y/n)'s answer.

They were donor babies.

They were designed embryos, made with the exact blood and bone marrow type to match the brother they never knew they had. They were supposed to save him. They weren't wanted, neither of them were born to be wanted or loved or cherished. They were born specifically to save the child their parents wanted and they couldn't even do that right.

Everything seemed to slot into place and the more pieces that fitted together, the more (Y/n) started to feel sick and feel bile rising to the back of her throat.

All those times their parents never made a fuss on their birthdays, all those times they barely heard the words 'I love you' unless it was Maddie telling them. Each time they had to get hurt for attention or run away to cause a panic and be shown that they were valued and cherished. Each time (Y/n) asked about when they were born and their mother refused to answer, this was why.

Their mum always used to say that having twins was a surprise. That (Y/n) wasn't planned, she was a surprise since she was the younger twin by five minutes. This was why. They planned to have one more child to save their son but they ended up with (Y/n) too. Neither of them were truly wanted, they were just needed for a short while and then couldn't be returned after they were no longer of use.

This was why the twins always felt disconnected and why there were barely any photos of them growing up. This was why all of the pictures of (Y/n) and Buck as babies were with no one holding them. (Y/n) had been the sick twin, stuck in the hospital for two weeks before coming home and there was only one photo of her in the hospital when she was born.

Did they even visit her when she was sick? Did they check on her, or did they just take what they needed from her and Evan and stay with Daniel the whole time?

"All these years. All this time, we felt so out of place and alone, and this is why. You never wanted us. Did we remind you of him? Did we fail you every day we woke up and he didn't?"

"Evan please, we tried our best-"

"We just wanted you to love us!"

The sheer outburst and the way that Buck bolted up from the sofa sent everyone reeling.

The artery in his neck was close to bursting, his hand was pointing out at his parents and his jaw was grinding tight and about to dislocate. His body was shaking from adrenaline as he glared at them. His parents had lied to him all his life. His big sister who was the only one who loved him, she never told him why he felt so out of place and unloved and misunderstood. The only person he could rely on was his twin and she felt exactly the same as him.

Maddie was leaning into Chimney who had an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side.

Margaret was crying into her hands, unable to look away from her son for the first time in a long while, and Phillip was now stood up, running his fingers through his hair as he tried not to breakdown.

And then there was (Y/n). Silently crying, arms bound around her waist as she felt the need to throw up or pass out, possibly both.

"I walk into fire every day of my life because of you. I tried everything to get your approval, to get you to love me, to love us the way you do Maddie, but nothing would ever work. And now I know why, because we failed you."

When Maddie tried again to reach out for her sister, she gasped when (Y/n) all but slapped her touch away.

"You should have t-told us." All those times (Y/n) and Buck asked her why their parents didn't pay them any attention or turn up for school plays or listen to them or even love them. Maddie had the answers and she never said anything. She should have told them the moment the twins moved out. She had years to tell them and she never mentioned it.

Not once.

(Y/n) ran her hands across her face, brushing the tears away before she moved her hands to the sofa and pushed up to unsteady feet.

"Let's get out of here." Her words were clearly directed towards Buck and he seemed relieved to hear them.

Neither of them wanted to stay here. They didn't want to look at their parents, let alone be in the same room as them, and right now, for the first time, that included Maddie as well. She hid this from them, she lied to them and withheld the answers they so desperately searched for. Maddie should have told them once they were old enough, she had the choice and the ability to tell them whether their parents told her to stay quiet or not. She chose to keep this secret too.

"Guys, you don't have to leave." Chimney pushed up from the sofa along with Maddie who tried to reach out for them. But she pushed back into Chimney, smothering a cry when (Y/n) sobbed and jerked away from her. She didn't feel safe here. Maddie lied to her. Their parents lied to them their entire lives and now the twins understood why their parents looked at them the way they did.

"Fuck all of you." (Y/n) made a brisk walk towards the door, grabbing her bag on her way past.

Buck followed swiftly behind her, slinging his jacket over one shoulder but when he felt Maddie grabbing his arm, he glared down at his big sister for the first time in his life.

"Buck, please don't go."

"You made your choice." He tore his arm from her grip, using his sleeve to wipe away the tears before he pushed ahead and followed after his sister. Maddie chose to keep this secret and now she could face the repercussions of that.

The pair of them stormed down the hall, tears drenching their faces and every limb trembling as they walked in tandem but with no destination in sight.

"What a-are we going to do?" (Y/n) didn't want to go home. Tommy probably wouldn't be home yet and even if he was, (Y/n) didn't think she could face him. She didn't want to go back to an empty house. She didn't want to go back to a place full of memories when all she desired was to be far away from anything and everything.

She felt a fire igniting in her chest when Buck slid his hand into hers and tugged her to keep up with his fast pace as he began their descent down the stairs. He knew where they should go. He knew exactly what they needed to do and where to go in order to escape everything that had happened tonight.

"We're gonna get drunk."

***

It had been a good idea.

Going out for drinks, just the two of them where they only needed each other. It had been a good idea at the time.

But now, almost ten shots later, countless rounds of cocktails mixed with vodka martinis and the odd glass of wine, it was all coming back up with vengeance. (Y/n) could feel everything mixing oddly in her stomach and swirling around in her liver and she knew her brother felt the same by the way he kept hiccupping and wobbling on his feet.

She wasn't sure how long it took them to get back to Buck's apartment, but it had taken significantly longer than it would have if they had been sober.

Her head fell onto Buck's arm and her hand clutched his while her other hand reached out for the door frame.

Buck's brows knitted together as he tried to fathom how to get the key into the lock and which way it was supposed to turn. After a minute, he grinned and jingled the keys at his sister to show her which key he had been trying to put in the lock.

The key to the jeep.

Five minutes later and the door was finally open and both twins stumbled through the door.

Buck kicked the door shut behind him while (Y/n) stumbled ahead until she went down on her knees when her feet gave way and her head started to spin. She felt like lying down and going to sleep, but her brain was much to hyperactive for that to happen, and it didn't matter how drunk she was.

Once she was on the floor, she shuffled until she was against the kitchen island and her back was resting up against the counter. Her head tipped back to try and stop herself from being sick and her arms looped around her knees which she brought up to her stomach.

She couldn't stop the tears from streaking down her face, or the sobs that started to bubble past her lips which turned into horrible sobs once she started and couldn't stop.

Her body rocked back and forth and each time her body went back, the back of her head slammed into the counter with enough force to make her whimper and have her sights blurring in front of her.

"Why am I even here?"

"What?" Buck hiccupped again and when he realised his sister was sat on the floor, he frowned for a moment before he let his knees cave and he crashed down beside her.

He shed his jacket like it was a second skin and he sat oddly on one hip with his legs curled beneath him and his hand on (Y/n)'s knee. He winced each time she slammed her head back and after a minute, he pressed his temple against the side of her head to try and get her to stop. She was sending him dizzy and making him want to cry which was also making him feel sick.

"We didn't even save him! Why am I alive? T-they've always looked at us funny, like we're letting them down, and we did. We were born to save him and we failed."

What had they done wrong? There were two of them and even that hadn't been enough to save the brother they never knew they had. Why had two of them not been enough? Why had neither of them been able to donate enough stem cells or blood or whatever Daniel needed? Why did they get to live but he still died even with them here? How was any of this fair?

"M-mum always said we were a surprise… they were expecting one kid, and got two. They didn't want me, I wasn't planned and I- I never saved him. No wonder she never loved us."

A loud wail left (Y/n)'s lips followed by a broken cough when she felt like the vodka they drank was doing a summersault in her stomach.

Her nails began to scratch into her lower legs and she slammed her head back into the counter with enough force to blackout her vision and send her head spinning from left to right. She felt Buck wince beside her and he groaned as he reeled her away from the wall.

She was starting to get self-destructive and Buck didn't want his twin to hurt herself. She didn't need to do that. She didn't deserve that. It was their parents who deserved all this pain they were feeling. Losing a child had been hard enough, but they had treated (Y/n) and Buck like they were unwanted guests they couldn't get rid of. As if they were a hindrance, a parasite and that had been crueller than not telling them about Daniel's existence.

Their parent's didn't want (Y/n).

She was the younger twin, the one who had to stay in hospital in the ICU for longer. She was the surprise. They planned for one more child to try and save Daniel but they ended up with two who couldn't do one job between them. This was why (Y/n) and Evan had been self-destructive all their lives, why they tried to subconsciously save as many people as they could. Because there was one important person they had never been able to save.

When (Y/n) flopped into him with her eyes closed from her vision that was still blurring, Buck wrapped his arms around her.

He let (Y/n) flop onto her side with her knees still curled up into her stomach and her head resting on his lap. He wrapped his arm around her and leaned down to hug her, but he hated the way she started to sob which in turn made him begin to cry.

He fumbled his hand around in his pocket, silently praying that he hadn't lost his phone when they got blackout drunk tonight. The moment he found it, he scrolled through until he found Tommy's contact.

"Buck?"

"Are you s-still at work?" Buck groaned as he began to hiccup again and part of him wished he had face-timed Tommy to make this a bit easier.

A frown appeared on Tommy's face as he pushed up so he was leaning up into the pillows. He blearily blinked through the darkness and pressed his phone tighter to his ear to try and hear Buck a bit better.

He was close to Buck. They were like brothers, given how long Tommy had been dating (Y/n) and how close she was to her twin. Tommy had intergrated into their circle and he went out on nights out with Buck and had reconnected to Chimney because he was with Maddie. Tommy felt like Buck was the brother he'd never had, so he could tell right now that something was off in buck's voice.

"Buck, it's one in the morning, I'm in bed. What's wrong? Didn't you all have your family meal tonight?" Tommy glanced at his phone, reading that it was just after one in the morning.

He had been expecting (Y/n) to come home by now, but Tommy also knew that his girl would be spending the evening with Buck. She already warned him that family meals didn't go down well and she would probably go out somewhere with Buck or head back to his place for a while.

He had waited until midnight to check if (Y/n) called him for a ride home, but he figured she was spending the night at Buck's place.

A shiver crawled down Tommy's spine and he jerked up into a sitting position when a sudden noise caught his attention.

(Y/n).

She was crying. Why was she crying? It was late in the night, had they been involved in some kind of accident? Had someone hurt her? Where were they? What were the pair of them doing?

"Is that (Y/n)? Buck why is she crying, what's happened?" Tommy was already scrambling out of bed and looking for his clothes before he got a response. He set his phone on speaker and turned the lamp on so he could try and get dressed. He had no idea what was going on but he knew he needed to find his girlfriend and one of his best friends and help them.

"Please come over."

"Where are you?"

Buck glanced down at his sister on his lap while he sniffed and rubbed his sleeve beneath his eyes and nose. "Where a-are we?" He frowned before a light went off in his mind and he almost smiled. "Oh, w-we're at my place."

"I'll be ten minutes."

True to his word, Tommy got to Buck's apartment in record time, mainly because it was late at night and there were no cars on the road which meant he hit every green light on the way.

He was utterly relieved when he knocked on the door and tried the handle that they had left the door unlocked. It meant he didn't have to wait for them to come to the door because he guessed by the confusion and the sound of Buck's voice that they were drunk. That wasn't the best start or a great indicator about what had happened tonight.

He hurried inside, darting his head from left to right before a crumpled sight on the floor near the dining table caught his attention.

The twins were curled up together on the floor in front of the kitchen island next to the bar stools. (Y/n) had her head on Buck's knee and she was sobbing freely which broke Tommy's heart. But seeing Buck rocking back and forth, trying to curl around her made Tommy feel even worse.

He bolted over to the pair of them and knelt down just in front of them with rabid, wild eyes and his breaths running away from him.

His hands gently reached out for (Y/n) and the moment his thumb brushed her cheek and his hand cupped the side of her neck, she seemed to come alive. A gasp tumbled past her lips and a floodwave of tears broke down her face as she scrambled to push up off Buck's lap.

Her arms deadlocked around Tommy's neck and she pushed herself into his chest, scrambling across until she was laid on his thighs in an awkward position.

"Okay, okay baby come here."

His hand cupped the back of her neck while his other hand gripped her thigh comfortingly and he firmly pulled (Y/n) up. He lifted her until her face was tucked into his neck and her chest was pressing into his. Her knees pressed into his hips until (Y/n) found the will to move and managed to shakily curl her legs around Tommy's torso so she was sitting on his lap, clinging to him like a baby monkey.

He slowly swayed back and forth, attaching his lips to the side of her head while he watched Buck lean back into the counter and bring his knees up to his stomach. His hands knitted in his hair and he tried to take deep breaths but he felt like he was going insane.

"Can one of you tell me what's happened please?" He peppered a few more kisses against (Y/n)'s temple while his thumb stroked the back of her neck and his fingers wove into her hair.

He could feel the way (Y/n) was gasping into his neck and how badly she was trembling in his arms. He figured she wasn't going to be able to string a sentence together yet or tell him what had happened to them both tonight so his eyes set on Buck.

"We had a brother." Buck started talking, but tears continued to trickle down his face and he was at the point of gasping for air. "He had cancer, t-they had us, as donor kids, but we fucked up. We didn't save him, s-so they never told us about him, or w-why we were born."

Tommy's face dropped and his arms subconsciously tightened around (Y/n) when she whimpered. He pressed his lips down into the crook of (Y/n)'s neck while he tried to wrap his head around this.

He'd heard about this. Donor babies. People having genetically modified embryos to be specific matches for their kids. It was quicker than waiting on the donor list and meant their child would have a full blood match and effectively have a bag of spare parts if their child wasn't well or continued to decline.

But Tommy had never met anyone who had been a donor child before, and he'd never known parents to lie about the existence of another child like this. He couldn't imagine the self-discipline it would take to do that or how broken they must be to erase a child from existence. It was cruel. But not as cruel as what they had done to the twins all these years.

"We failed. He's the reason we're alive… a-and we're the reason he's dead."

A sob tumbled past (Y/n)'s lips as she tried to burrow herself further into Tommy to hide away.

But a gasp tumbled past her lips when she felt him stiffen and tense in front of her and he leaned back to try and look down at her.

"Hey, look at me." His hand pinched her chin and tilted her head back so their eyes locked. "So maybe you exist because of some brother you never knew, but he's not dead because of you. Your parents knew what they were doing when they had you, they knew they would have to raise two more kids and if they didn't want to do that, then that's on them."

He pressed his lips against (Y/n)'s burning temple before she gently pulled her head out of his grasp and twisted to lay her cheek on his shoulder. Her arms tightened around his neck and she pressed every inch of her chest up against Tommy's broad chest that softened a little when she snuggled into him.

"Neither of you are God, you don't decide who lives or who dies and you don't exist solely to serve one purpose. How many people would be dead without you two on the job as firemen? You've already saved so many lives, but you're not alive to be valued on those lives. You don't need a purpose, okay, both of you are enough."

Buck looked like he was starting to laugh before a small groan left his lips and he tilted his head down to rest his head in his hands.

Moving his hand, Tommy cupped the side of (Y/n)'s face and kissed her temple for a few moments while he sighed into her hair. It was going to be a long night and it was going to take a while for this news to sink in and for the twins to come to terms with this.

"How much have you two had to drink?" When neither of them answered him, he rephrased. "Alright, what have you had to drink?"

"Shots, s-some martinis and- and cocktails…"

"And vodka." (Y/n) chimed in while she closed her eyes when Tommy groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Jesus, alright so you went all-out then. Baby, baby you stay here for me. Buck, you need to go to bed come on."

Tommy was careful when he eased (Y/n) onto the floor so she was no longer clinging to his chest. He lifted her chin so he could press a wet kiss to her lips before he pushed up to his feet and held his hand out in front of Buck. He helped the other man up to his feet and carefully steered him towards the stairs.

It was late and they were both drunk, they needed to sleep this off and they could all talk in the morning. Tommy would help them cure their hangovers in the morning.

It took a while for Tommy to heave Buck up the stairs and get him towards the bed. He took the time to look around the room and move the small bin so it was beside the bed while Buck stripped from his jeans and jumper and clambered up the bed.

He was half asleep by the time he slumped his face into the pillow and Tommy carefully pushed him so he was laying on his side. If he threw up Tommy didn't want him to choke.

"If you need anything, just shout out. You good?"

The lack of response told Tommy that Buck was starting to drift off and he thought it best to leave him to it.

He jogged back down the stairs towards (Y/n) who had flopped onto her side and started to curl up on the floor like she was getting back into the fetal position.

"No, no baby we're not sleeping down here. Come here, gorgeous."

Tommy cupped the side of her neck and lifted her back up into a sitting position so he could loop her arms around his neck. One arm slid around her waist and the other swooped beneath her knees and with very little effort, Tommy lifted her up bridal style and slowly trailed towards the living room that was shrouded in darkness.

He left the lamp on in the kitchen for a source of light and he carefully sat down on the sofa with (Y/n) in his lap. She stayed limp and easily moveable in his arms while he swung his legs around on the sofa and shifted (Y/n) so she was leaning back into his chest.

The sofa was a bit small for Tommy's large frame, his ankles hung off the end of the arm rest but the cushion was comfy behind his head and he was tired. He knew (Y/n) had to be exhausted too.

Her face tucked down into his chest, smothering her lips and nose in his shirt while her hand fisted in his top and she snuggled down. She was laid on her side, her body perfectly slotted between Tommy's thighs leaning back into his chest. And when Tommy grabbed the blanket from the back of the sofa and draped it across them both, he felt (Y/n) smile and hum lovingly into his chest.

There was no way Tommy was driving (Y/n) home in this state and he didn't want to leave Buck alone. It was safer for them both to stay here with him, then the twins could talk in the morning when they were both sober.

"Okay, baby?" His hand ran up and down her arm while his other arm rested behind his head and he tilted his head down. His lips attached to the top of her head while he observed her for a few moments, making sure she was closing her eyes and trying to sleep and not on the verge of another breakdown.

"Hm."

"You are enough. You'll always be enough." His words mingled into her hair and he closed his eyes, breathing in her scent as tiredness washed over them both.

But his words swirled around in (Y/n)'s mind and made her stomach flutter as she snuggled down deeper against Tommy.

She could feel herself falling asleep with nothing but the thought of Tommy playing on her mind and the notion that he loved her to the end of the Earth.

#imagine #911 imagine #tommy x reader #tommy kinard #tommy kinard imagine #tommy kinard 911 #tommy kinard x reader #evan buckley

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thebestofoneshots · 1 year ago

Text

MARAUDWEEEN

Feels Like The First Time | James Potter x reader

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

Word Count: 6 k

Warnings: Smut, fingering, P in V, lots of praise, consent is sexy, lusty!James, bashful!James, he literally can't take his eyes off you.

Prompt: As a part of the Marauween Series, this fic takes you to an Alternate Universe where James Potter is a fireman, telling the story of how you met, and how your first time came about.

Maraudween is a Halloween-inspired anthology series where each chapter transports you into a distinct alternate universe. From the real world to old western Texas and even through the dark times of vampires. These standalone tales invite you into a realm of boundless potential. Experience the enchantment of Halloween as it weaves its spell, intertwining the magic of costumes, AUs, terror and spice.

NSFW (Smut under the cut) ♡

“What can I get you, sir?” You asked, not looking up from the register as you were trying to close the tab of the previous order. The machine had been acting up lately and no matter how hard you tried, it seemed to take its sweet time between closing an old order and opening the feed to start a new one.

You were almost scowling at it when you heard a low chuckle from behind the counter, you instantly recognized it. The cute fireman, you felt your cheeks flush at the thought.

“Everything all right, angel?” he asked, voice soft even as a little smirk played on his lips.

“James!” you said with a smile, deciding to ignore the machine and talk to the man instead. He lived a few blocks away, in your same building, and he always passed by the shop to get some coffee and a snack before he finished his walk to work. Sometimes he came on his way back too, he was over so often, that you almost knew his orders by memory, “Americano?”

He shook his head “I’m feeling up for something sweeter today.”

You hummed in response, running his typical orders in your head “Late with a pump of strawberry?”

He tilted his head, seemingly thinking about it, you couldn’t help to let your eyes linger over his uniform. He’d typically alternate between blue, yellow and grey. Today he was wearing grey and you would be lying if you said he didn’t look disarmingly attractive. He was big and well built too, but that was a lot easier to appreciate on hotter days when he wasn’t wearing his jacket on top of the usual either crisp white or neat black shirt, “Yeah, that’s perfect.”

You smiled and started writing down the details in his cup. When you realised there was no one on the line behind him, you decided to prepare his drink yourself, instead of passing it over to Marcus, your coworker, and better barista between the two. James knew, and yet, he much better liked the drinks you prepared.

“Want me to add a bit of whipped cream?” You asked.

“You spoil me,” he said with a smile, you turned to give him a questioning look, a smile playing on your lips as he nodded, perhaps that’s why he liked your drinks best, they almost always came along with a smile.

“You do spoil him,” Marcus added as he used one of the machines to draw pictures over a latte.

You gave him a pout as an answer and continued with your preparation. Once it was done you turned around, Marcus had gone off to tend some table and you walked over to James, handing him his cup straight to his hands. His fingers lingered over yours as he took it from you and you felt your stomach flutter, “I’d add some cinnamon for spice,” you told him, he nodded and walked over to the sugar table, doing exactly as you told him.

“Hey, James?”

“Hmm…?”

“Good luck at work today,” you added with a smile, Marcus from one of the tables almost rolled his eyes, while James’ smile only widened.

There was a huge fire that day, you saw it on the news on the small TV in the corner of the shop, one of the old buildings near the centre of the city had caught fire. Since it had been during work hours there hadn’t been that many people inside, and thankfully no one died but about 2 dozen had ended up in the hospital due to smoke toxicity. Or so was reporting the news lady.

“Do you think James’s all right?” you asked, turning to Marcus with a little frown.

“Why don’t you go home and check on him? He lives almost in front of you anyway. This happened about an hour ago, he might be there soon...”

You nodded, and hurried with the wiping of tables, still looking a bit nervous and rushed “I’ll finish up closing,” he added.

“Thank you,” you said as you went to pick up your stuff and remove your uniform from the back room.

Marcus called your name, you turned to him “Bring him something. His favourite treat of whatever… I’m sure you already know it by memory.”

“I… Well, I mean…”

“Don’t play dumb and just take it to him, whatever it might be. Would serve you well, maybe admit that you like him as well.”

You flushed “Shut it, Marcus.”

“He likes you back, did you know?” You gave him a look “Hey it’s true! I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“He’s just polite.”

“Polite my ass, he’s never looked at me like that. Go on, knock on his door, patch him up and admit your crush. Maybe get it going with him too. What do you think he’d look like with those snug pants and a pair of suspenders? Only a pair of suspenders.”

You flushed a lot more this time around, the image floating to your brain unprompted, and you weren’t able to shake it off that easily. Curse your imaginative mind and Markus’ dirty one to put the idea in your head.

“So… his favourite treat?”

“It’s the lemon tart,” you admitted reluctantly. “He orders it whenever he’s feeling down. And also after bad days.” Markus smiled and leaned down to take two of them and place them on a small box for you to take home, “Thank you.”

“Thank me when you’ve seen him with only pants and suspenders!” he joked, and you shook your head in disbelief, a smile still plastered on your face as you did.

You got home after a short walk and went straight for a quick shower. It was then that you heard the thud of heavy boots in the hallway. He was walking towards his apartment. You hurried to finish and changed into simple shorts and a sweatshirt before walking the 2 door distance to his apartment. You took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

There was no answer, you considered leaving, your nerves getting the best of you, but you remembered you still had the lemon tarts and decided to try again. This time you heard some shuffling and then the door opened, revealing James, still wearing his uniform, hair clinging onto his face from sweat and blotches of soot patching his cheeks, he looked tired, but he smiled the moment he saw who it was at the door. “Fancy seeing you here, darling.”

You swallowed, his gaze having a powerful effect on you “I… I uh… I saw the news and well, I assumed you had been there, I guess I was right,” you added after gesturing toward your face, trying to refer to how blotchy he was “I thought I’d come to check if you were all right… I also brought you some of those lemon tarts you really like.”

He stared at you for a second, as if trying to process the fact that you really had taken the trouble to bring him food, just because he’d had a tough day. When he realised you really were there, and not only a fragment of his imagination, he smiled “You picked my favourites,” he said pointing at the box.

You gulped, as if scared of getting caught but nodded “You… order them often,” you said with a shrug.

He hummed “And you know all of your client’s orders?” he asked, a flirty tone slipping as he moved to the side to let you in, nodding towards the kitchen, although you already knew where it was, since the layout of his apartment was almost an exact mirror of yours.

“Only the ones of my favourites,” you responded, which got him to raise his eyebrows as he pulled out two plates and a pair of forks, placing them on the counter. You opened the small box and gracefully served one of the pies on each of the plates, he didn’t wait too long to dig in, moaning at the sweet and acidic flavour.

“You’re the absolute best,” he told you as he continued to eat “Getting this after a fire might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You just giggled at his exaggeration, you didn’t know he didn’t mean only the pie, but also your company. As the two of you finished your meal, you stood up to go back to your apartment but he stopped you, a hand gripping softly onto your forearm “Hey wait!” You turned to him “Let me pay you back.”

You gasped and then shook your head. “Oh no, don’t worry about it, I get free treats since I work there.” But he didn’t let go of your arm just yet.

You saw him bite his cheek, looking to the side as if trying to find the right words “Regardless, I– Let me take you out, yeah?”

“Out… to the door?” You asked with a frown “I mean I know where it is but–”

“Out on a date.”

“You want to– Me?!?” He nodded fervently in response.

“So...?”

You smiled, you were sure you were blushing madly but his nervousness only made him even more adorable “I’d love that.”

He’d taken you to a small Italian restaurant that his friend Sirius had recommended, he told you about his life, about how he got into firefighting and you told him about yours, how you were working at the cafe as a side job to pay for your online studies. He thought you were a hero, which was almost ridiculous because if anyone was saving people between the two, it had been him.

After that date you went on many others, he frequented the cafe a lot more often, sometimes to order something, sometimes to drop by a bouquet of roses or some other kind of flower. Markus had teased you relentlessly after that, but he really was happy to see you happy. He also started giving you treats to take home a lot more often, but that was because he knew you were always sharing them with James.

“Thanks love, see you at dinner?” James asked as he took the takeaway coffee cup from your hands, you had written “Prongs,” and drew a pair of antlers on it just to tease him, since he’d told you about his friends giving him that nickname in school.

You nodded in response “Sure, want me to bring something?”

He leaned over the counter as if it were about to say something of the utmost secrecy “How about some of those chocolate tarts?” he whispered.

“Sounds about perfect to me,” you agreed and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before pulling back. He smiled dumbly after that and waved on the way out, almost bumping into a tall teacher who was also your regular.

“Watch your step, lover boy,” he told him. That day you found out Remus –the teacher who was a regular– and your boyfriend not only knew each other, but had been best friends for the longest time. He’d told you about him many, many times, but you had no way of knowing the calm, concentrated teacher who sat on his laptop grading students was the same mastermind prankster he always called Moony.

“So… how does he look in suspenders?” Markus asked you as he eyed your boyfriend finally leaving.

“Oh… well, I mean… I haven’t– we haven’t-“

“Shut it,” he said turning to you “You’ve been dating for a while now, like 2 months, right? Didn’t you tell me you slept at his apartment the other night?”

“Yeah, I mean, I did… I fell asleep watching the telly and he didn’t want to wake me.”

“I thought you meant something else…” he said as he shook his head “Maybe he’s asexual,” he added with a shrug “Total bummer for you.”

You frowned “I don’t think he– I think he’s just trying to be a gentleman.”

Markus shook his head, unconvinced “Have you tried to initiate anything?”

“We’ve snogged a couple of times.”

“And when it gets more heated?”

You shrugged “Don’t know what to tell ya.”

He hummed “You need to try harder.”

“I need to try?”

“Well to find out at least, don’t you want to?”

You shrugged it off then, but truth be told, the idea had already cemented itself in your brain. You paid closer attention to the times you snogged after that. Be it on the couch, or the counter of yours or his kitchen, it was always romantic kisses and even if he certainly seemed affected, be it his ragged breath, pink lips or expanded pupils, he never pushed for more. Perhaps he really was waiting for you to initiate things.

A few nights later, there was another fire, you had already gotten the key to his apartment so you waited over at his, bringing over some cream puffs and setting yourself on the couch while you waited. He arrived a little late, covered in soot like he had that first time you walked into his house with lemon tarts in your hand. He smiled the moment he spotted you on his sofa “Fancy seeing you here, darling,” he teased, echoing the words he’d said that first night.

You smiled “How are you feeling?” you asked.

He sighed, his shoulders slumped at that “We couldn’t… One of them didn’t make it.” You frowned, you knew he’d torment himself about it all night, so you walked over to him, taking a wet towel as he sat near the counter and started wiping some of the soot from his face.

“‘S not your fault.”

“But if we had gotten there sooner maybe–“

You pulled his chin, making his eyes look straight into yours “Jamie,” you said sternly, trying to ground him “It’s not your fault.”

He sighed again “I know, I know…” he said, and buried his head in your neck, smelling your perfume as he grabbed onto your hips, “Stay over tonight?” he asked “Please, I don’t– I don’t want to be left alone with my thoughts.”

You smiled, placing your hand on the back of his head, brushing it lightly over his messy hair before settling it at the nape of his neck “Of course, my love,” you responded simply, and pulled his shoulders back to look straight at his face “come on, let’s get to the sofa, maybe we can play something on the telly to get your mind off things.”

He pouted “I’m sweaty, and I smell of charred wood.”

You tilted your head, a small smile drawing on your lips “I think you look sexy,” you teased, before grabbing his hand to pull him up and towards the sofa. He had a diverted look as he followed.

They were screening Karate kid for like the 5th time that week, but both of you were watching it patiently. That was until the commercial break started and you turned to James, he had a small frown on his face, almost imperceptible, as if he were trying to hide it from you, but you knew him well enough to know. “You’re thinking about it again, aren’t you?”

James turned to you, a sorrowful look in his beautiful hazel eyes, “I found them, I tried, but…” You kneeled on the sofa and gave him a bone-crushing hug, or at least your version of one, since you had about half the strength he did anyway. Regardless, you heard the huff of a laugh coming from him.

You gave one last look at the telly, they were still going on some infomercial about a magical razor, yeah, no way in hell he gets distracted by that. “Hey Jaimie,” he hummed in response “How about we find another way to get your mind off things?” you asked, pulling back a little so he could see your face.

He gave you a look, “Like playing Monopoly or…” he didn’t even finish his sentence since you crashed your lips against his with a kiss. He was surprised at first but followed the kiss shortly after. Tightening his grip on your waist.

“Like this?” you said as you pulled out for air. He still had a bit of a frown, so you leaned into him again, determined to erase it with a kiss. He pretty much melted into you again, at some point you crossed your knee over his lap and you were straddling his thigh. You didn’t lean closer to him too fast, you wanted to give him some time.

Your lips started to travel from his lips to his jaw, he was right, he was sweaty, you could feel the salty taste of it as you kissed, and there was something else too, a little bit of that smoked flavour going on. You didn’t care, if anything, it really made him feel sexier. You landed on his neck, and started pressing wet kisses on a section you knew from experience he liked, and you heard a low moan coming from his throat, music to your ears.

“Wait… wait… hold up,” he said as he patted your shoulder softly, you didn’t pull back “Angel, please, I’m gross right now…”

“Don’t care,” you said between kisses “I like the way you taste.”

He stifled grunted after you said that –partly because of what you said, partly because of the way you sucked onto a particularly sensitive part of his neck– it was hard enough for him to restrain himself as it was, and you saying things like that was only making it harder.

You, without quite noticing what you were doing, started grinding against his leg, not quite against his crotch yet thought, you could still think enough to know it’d be too soon. You leaned back, trying to get to his mouth when you spotted him, he had a rather interesting expression on his face, brows furrowed, as if he was trying really hard to concentrate on something, or not to concentrate on something.

You smiled, holding back a laugh before placing your hand on his cheek, he opened his eyes, a worried look on his face “James, what is it darling?”

He swallowed, his breath was heavy, “I’m just… I’m trying not to– thinking of something else.” You raised an eyebrow at him, not sure exactly what was going on until you saw his gaze flicker down to his crotch.

“Oh.” You said quietly, and then, in an outburst of bravery, pulled your hand down to pat him. He hissed, grabbing your hand and pulling it back.

“That– that’s going to make it worse.”

You smiled again, tilting your head just a little as you stared at your beautiful boyfriend “Allow me,” you said softly “I want to make it worse.” He looked at you as if he was trying to decipher whether what you were saying was true, and you leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek “Pretty please?”

You had your forehead against his when he bit his lip and nodded, letting your hand free as you pushed it towards his crotch again. He was a lot harder than you had initially assumed he’d be, but you started rubbing your hand up and down regardless, feeling out his entire length which was nothing short of surprising. His head had somehow ended up on your shoulder again “fuck,” he said and trailed off with a few other curse words you weren’t sure you had heard him say before “That feels incredible Angel, You feel so good,” he whispered.

Eventually, you pulled your hand backward and he gave you the most reproachful look, “Hey… I want to be able to kiss you,” you said softly before leaning in for a kiss and finally closing the gap between your bodies. You had been wearing a pair of simple lycra shorts, so everything felt very close when you finally leaned your hips over his, grinding your core against the rough texture of his firefighter pants.

James was about to moan when you pulled him into a kiss again, so he moaned into your mouth, half attempting to return the kiss. His hands had now travelled to your hips, and he was helping you grind onto him, gripping almost a little too tight, not that you minded. If anything, you thought seeing this less controlled side of him was the hottest thing.

Your hands travelled to his jacket, he’d been so lost in thought when he arrived home that he hadn’t even taken it off, but that was fine, you could help him with that now. You found the plate box and started to unbutton it one by one, he had been so engrossed in you that he didn’t notice what you were doing until you moved your hands to his inside shirt to push the thick jacket to the side.

He helped you shrug it off and you set it to the side of the couch since you knew how much he cared for it. He gave you a smile through huddled lids and this time around he was the one pulling you towards him for another kiss.

You went to the buttons of his pants this time around, grinding on his thigh in an effort to not stop the buildup you’d already created. “Angel what are you…?”

“Material’s too rough,” you managed to mumble. His eyebrows knit in concern and he helped you in an instant. While he did that you fumbled with your shorts and took them off as fast as possible, not sparing a second glance to see where they fell on the floor, they were pretty ruined either way. He didn’t notice you had done that, not until you went back to straddle him and he felt the wet patch of your panties on his trouser. On his cock.

“Fuck dove,” he said when he realized.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, almost shy, thinking he might think it was gross but he shook his head.

“Don’t be, it’s fucking hot,” he said as he grabbed onto your hips again and started sliding you against him, grinding you against him. This time there was a lot more purpose behind his movements, he was quite literally rubbing you right onto his cock, you could feel it almost in between your folds through the two layers of clothing separating you from each other.

The room started feeling too hot, and you removed your hands from the back of his head and brought them to the hem of your sweatshirt, attempting to pull it off when his hands travelled to yours.

He pulled back from the kiss and stared at you, searching for your eyes “You don’t have to– Not because of the…” he took a deep breath, trying to think straight “We don’t have to do this just to distract me.”

Your expression turned soft, as you looked at him. How on earth did I get so lucky? You thought. You licked your lips, biting the bottom as you brought your hands to the side of his face. “It’s not just because of that, I want to do this Jamie, I’ve been thinking about it for a while.” He swallowed. “You think that sexy little uniform does nothing to me? I’m only human James.” He chuckled, eyes averting to the side in an adorably bashful expression that you were certain only James Potter would be able to pull off. When he looked back you gave him a teasing smile “Help me?” you asked again, nodding down.

This time it was he who bit back a grin, almost giving you a wink before he let his hands to the hem of your hoodie and helped you pull it off. He stared at you for a second. You were wearing a simple sports bra, nothing fancy, in fact, you’d dare say it was a little embarrassing since the bottom hem was frailing a bit already, but that didn’t seem to matter to James. He was staring at you as if he’d seen the hottest woman on earth. As if you had been wearing the most exquisite set of lingerie.

You blushed, obviously, you blushed, and hid your head on his neck so he wouldn’t notice, pretending you were going for a kiss, but he stopped you. “Hold up, I wanna enjoy the view,” he complained.

“When I’m wearing nicer underwear I’ll let you,” you said, pushing against him to go to his neck again, but he was stronger, if he didn’t want you to move, there was no way in hell you’d be able to move.

“Darling, your underwear is the last thing I’m paying attention to,” he said honestly. You took a deep breath and allowed him to pull you back, his eyes were blown with lust as he stared at you, at your bare shoulders he’d seen a couple of times, although not many since you started going out in winter and it still was winter. At the supple curve of your hips. At your breasts, you felt his hand twitch in your shoulder, as if he was holding himself back from touching anywhere else.

“James,” you said, getting him to turn his gaze back to your face, although you noticed it flicker down a couple of times, “You can touch.”

It was as if that had been all the permission he needed, he brought his hands down, letting them roam through your bare waist as you started to grind against him again. He was harder, if that was even possible. He groaned as you rolled your hips against his, and started trailing kisses down your neck, setting in the curve of your breasts as you continued to dry hump him.

He could see your hardened nipples through the thin cotton fabric. He’d actually seen them harden as he kissed, and then he did something you weren’t expecting, he held your waist and pulled you up a little, you almost whined at the loss of contact, but he pushed his head forward and gave an open mouth kiss to your breast, sucking and nipping through the fabric, you were now helping him hold you up with your own legs and holding onto his strong shoulders, absolutely lost in the feeling of his mouth.

He pulled back, giving you a mischievous look as he trailed his fingers over the frilled hem, there was almost an innocence to the way he was looking at you “May I?” he asked.

“Please.” He was already digging his fingers under the hem and pulling it over your head. “You too,” you added, pulling at his shirt. He quickly passed his hand to the neck of his shirt and yanked it off in a second. You gulped, you’d never seen anyone take their shirt off in such a hot way.

He was staring at you as he placed his hand on your waist and pulled you towards his face, this time licking from the underside of your breast all the way to your nipple before he closed his mouth around it and started sucking again, without the fabric in the middle you could feel his wet tongue and teeth grazing against your sensitive skin, you arched against him, and moaned his name when he bit softly.

His other hand was already massaging your other breast, kneading it and brushing his thumb over your nipple every couple of seconds. It felt incredible, and you relished on the feeling until your neediness got the best of you, “James,” you somehow managed to form the words, and grabbed the hand that was still kneading on your breast, pulling it down, to your core “Here, please.”

You saw him pull back to look at you, and he swallowed thickly but nodded, moving to kiss your neck as he traced his fingers over your wet panties “fuck, you’re so wet,” he whispered between kisses. You gripped onto his shoulder a little harder, when he pressed his finger onto your folds, you were already pretty sensitive from so much rubbing onto his hard uniform pants that even the slightest touch had you on fire.

After toying with you for a bit, he slid his finger through the hem and pushed your panties to the side, digging his fingers on your folds, while his thumb searched for your clit. He found it in the blink of an eye and you were pretty much bucking your hips against his hand in search of more friction. He let out a breathy laugh “So needy,” he said before setting one of his fingers near your entrance and digging it in.

His finger was long, much longer than yours and it reached places you wouldn’t have dreamed of, he curved it in a particular way and you let out a gasp “Yes! Please, James, do that again,” you said as you panted, he obliged, and had you grinding against his hand again in no time.

“Angel you’re too tight,” he whispered as you leaned in to kiss him again, slowly lowering yourself onto his tight. He went in for another finger as you kissed him and swallowed your whimper. He was already moving his fingers and slowly opening them inside of you, trying to prepare you, in case you wanted to continue because hell knew he did.

He pressed his thumb against your clit again, he could feel you faltering on him, your hip movements becoming sloppier as he continued to rub “Jamie I’m gonna…”

He kissed your neck “Please do.”

You leaned closer to him digging your nails into the muscles of his back as you bit your bottom lip. James separated from your neck for a second to look at you, you looked fucking stunning as you whimpered and whispered his name and a few course words almost incoherently.

“So fucking stunning,” he told you with a smile. It took you a second to come back and be able to pay attention to him, to the way he was looking at you.

You huffed a laugh “Shut up Jamie,” you said with a smile as you shook your head, he still had his fingers inside you, and it looked like he didn’t have the intention to remove them any time soon.

“How are we doing?” he asked.

You frowned, “Why do you– oh.” He flicked his thumb over your clit again, thrusting his fingers in and out in a rather sharp way “James you aren’t thinking of…”

“Of course, I’m thinking of it angel, I need to see that pretty face of pure bliss on you again.”

You almost let him convince you but you shook your head. You didn’t miss the way his smile faltered, you leaned into him, making sure to let your clit rub onto his thumb again as you shifted your weight and your hips “Not until I see yours,” you whispered in his ear, bringing your hand down to the hem of his boxers and digging your hand to grope him.

He groaned at your harsh movement, but his head fell back, an expression rather similar to yours as you dragged your hands through his length.

“Help James,” you said, words cut with sharp breaths from the effort you were making to pull his boxers down. He lifted his hips and helped you do it, all the while you continued pumping him. There was already a bit of white precum coating his tip, even if the boxers had sucked up most of it, you used it to allow your hand to glide easier around him.

“Faster,” he asked, you complied, he was already bucking his hips into your hands, “fuck doll I think I’m going to– “ You instantly stopped moving your hand and his eyes snapped open, looking at you like you had betrayed him. But you didn’t give him an explanation, you used your legs to prop forwards and lined him against your entrance “Wait, doll–“ you lowered yourself onto him, “fuck.”

You gulped, allowing yourself to adjust before giving him a look, he was looking at his cock buried in you attentively, and he swallowed thickly, you didn’t wait too much after that, and started grinding onto him, “Fuck Jamie you fill me up so good,” you whispered, as if he needed any more encouragement. You thought he did since he wasn’t moving, but that wasn’t the reason he wasn’t.

He grabbed onto your hips, and halted your movement “fuck, angel, hold up– I need–“You looked at him worriedly, accidentally bucking your hips again as you tried to search for his eyes, and then you felt it. Wet and sticky, inside you. He’d cum.

He looked at you with the most mortified expression on his face, as if he was sorry “I’m– I’m so sorry I…”

You just laughed, placing your hand on his cheek to prompt him to look at you “Hey, It’s okay my love.”

“But I didn’t… Not even like 30 seconds I–“ James was completely flustered, you weren’t sure you’d ever seen him that flustered before, you pulled him into a kiss.

“I’m taking it as a cumm-pliment,” you told him, he gave you a reproachful look and you gave him a peck on the lips. A small smile wavered its way towards his lips.

“That’s the– what a terrible pun,” he added. You bucked your hips against him again “fuck.”

You raised your eyebrow at him “Keep insulting my puns and I won’t help you with your little issue,” you threatened playfully as you started to buck your hips again, helping him empty himself completely. This time a lot slower, enjoying the way he felt on you, the way he was filling you up, how much easier it was to glide onto him with his warm cum all over you, some of it dripping to the side of your thigh and onto his already, you continued until he patted on your tight.

You nodded and pulled out slowly, setting yourself on his lap still. He still seemed awfully bashful, “Come on Jamie, I really don’t mind it.”

“But it was– our first time and I… ugh” he placed his hands over his face, groaning as he replayed the events in his head.

You bit your tongue not to laugh. At least he wasn’t thinking of the fire anymore. Mission success? You sighed and placed your hands onto his own and pulled them down, tilting your head a little in search for his eyes.

“How about…” you started, it seemed to gather some of his attention, although he was still looking at you with a dissatisfied expression “We go get a bath, and clean up…” you continued, he had finally lifted his head towards yours “we relax together a little,” you added, letting your fingers trace over his muscles, “we clean all the soot of that pretty face of yours,” you added, pinching his cheek which earned you a playful scowl from his part “and then chill for a while, see what happens next,” you finished, making sure your tone, raised eyebrows and half bitten bottom lip was suggestive enough. He looked at you, a diverted smile playing on his lips. “If it makes you feel better, we can pretend the shower was our first time instead,” you added just to spite him.

He huffed, a smile on his face as he placed his hands on your waist and stood up, holding you against him with ease. You squealed and laughed at the sudden action “James!” you reprimanded “We didn’t even take your boots off, you’re gonna fall and drop me in the process,” he looked down and groaned when he realised it was true. Regardless he tried to jump his way before the two of you ended up back on the couch. You were laughing merrily as he huffed.

“Come on hot fireman,” you told him with a smile “Take off those pretty boots of yours…” you smiled as you sneaked out of his grasp “I’ll meet you in the bathroom.”

He pretty much groaned as he saw you leave, staring at your ass as you disappeared through the door.

A/N: this one came out so much sweeter than I expected it to, but I kind of love it. It really captures that James Potter humour, doesn't it? Maraudween and The Five Senses are the anthology series where I explore writing smut, all as a way to hone my skills for the moment I write it in my Wolfstar x Reader series that's currently being posted on a weekly basis. If you have feedback, please leave it in the comments below. I absolutely love reading your comments <3

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musiclover84898 · 3 months ago

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As you know i’ve been on a tad fiona apple high so im thinking perhaps the reader is the kinda artist that fiona is and she’s preforming in a quiet club. James comes with Kirk (per kirk’s request) and James is really struck by her sorta and ends up trying to talk to her before she leaves so they just talk for a bit and it’s mostly fluff with a few 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 remarks

This is so creative I love it !!! James in a cowboy hat does something to me…I based the title off of one of Fiona’s albums because I didn’t know what to call it lmao. Thank you for your request! 😽

Warnings: Mostly fluff, somewhat-sexual/suggestive remarks. This takes place in 1992

Word count: 1,346

Tidal - James Hetfield

Friday nights were always the busiest, from what I've observed. So any different people would usher themselves inside the small club, sitting at the circular tables or the bar with a glass of wine in hand, chatting and laughing as I performed my songs. It filled me with a sense of pride as I watched the people cheer and applaud for me, a clear sign that they enjoyed my work. I loved what I did, and it felt good knowing that others did, too.

I started my show like normal, the soft, melodic sound of the piano filling out the underground room. My fingers grasped onto the microphone as I began to sing, the lyrics streaming from my lips as the song progressed on. I liked to believe that I was one of those artists who really felt the music they sang and wrote, not the ones who just listened to it. As I continued with the show, it felt like I was the only one in the room; like I was preforming to an empty expanse. I sang better that way, I thought. Slower, more heartfelt songs began to play, hinting at the end of my set.

The door to the club swung open quietly, two men walking in and taking a seat at the bar. I curiously glanced over at them as I sang, my eyes lingering on the taller of the two. He had blue eyes and long, shaggy blonde hair. He was also wearing a cowboy hat, which I thought was quite interesting. We made eye contact; for a moment, it felt like I was singing to him. My stomach jumbled into a knot as we continued to stare at each other, the tension between us growing. Without even thinking, I looked away towards the rest of the crowd to finish out the song. I had to find him after my set, and figure out who the hell he was and what he was doing here at my show..

༄༄༄

I was sitting near the bar, a drink in hand as I gazed at my shoes. The show was a success, per usual; I had received praise from nearly half the bar; their cheering and applause still echoed in my ears. The sound of clinking ice against the glass sent me back to the present moment, revealing the man from before standing right in front of me. My eyebrows raised abruptly, earning a dark, husky chuckle from him.

“You did an amazing job up there, rockstar. I’m impressed,” he said as he took a seat on the barstool next to mine. I bashfully smiled, waving my hand as if I was dismissing his compliments. Nervous butterflies were fluttering in my chest and stomach; why was I getting so damn jittery around him? I took a hearty sip of my drink before settling it back down onto the bar.

“Thank you. I saw you earlier while I was on stage, what’s your name?” I asked. I noticed his outfit and how casual it looked; boots, slightly ripped jeans, and a plain black shirt with the sleeved rolled up to his forearms. Not the attire for a place like a jazz club, I thought. I noticed him take a sip of beer from a tall glass before answering me. He had a horseshoe mustache. It kind of looked like one of the ones you’d see in an old Western film. It made me want to laugh.

“James. James Hetfield,” he began, wiping the corners of his mouth with the back of his big hand. “You’re absolutely beautiful.” His words hung in the air for a long while, allowing me to absorb his low voice and his piercing, ice-blue stare. His name sounded familiar; extremely familiar, actually, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Maybe it was because of the strong liquor I had been drinking for the past fifteen minutes.

“Thank you, Mr. Hetfield.” I joked, lightly jabbing him in the arm with a small fist. He laughed deeply, showing off his white teeth. He certainly was very charming, from his words all the way down to the way he carried himself in general. I felt extremely attracted to him already, even though we’d met just under ten minutes ago. We continued to talk with each other about random things like music, and how we both had a hobby of playing guitar. To me, it sounded like he was extremely passionate and serious about it. It was interesting to listen to him explain how he started playing in the first place. After a few more drinks, it was clear we both felt a bit tipsy.

“I bet a lot of men come up to you, huh? You’re really fuckin’ pretty.” He hiccuped, placing a wobbly hand on my thigh for leverage. His blonde hair looked tousled and messy, which somehow suited him even more. His hat was resting next to his nth glass of beer, which was already half full.

I blush as red as a beet, and mutter a “Thank you” under my breath. He must’ve noticed how embarrassed and flushed I looked, because his lopsided smirk grew wider.

“You’re very welcome, baby. How about we come back to my place, hmm? I could show you a real good time, little lady.” His voice sounded a lot more hoarse and raw than before, a clear sign that the alcohol was affecting his behavior. My heart began to thump loudly in my chest, beating so fast I thought it would burst. The hand on my thigh began to travel closer to the hem of my skirt, toying with the black fabric. I sucked in a breath, my teeth chewing down on my bottom lip.

“I really shouldn’t. We’re both shitfaced,” I laughed softly, placing my hand on top of his own. They felt cold, but it was a pleasant feeling. The atmosphere of the room was hot and stuffy all of a sudden; what the fuck was happening? I rubbed my temples with my index and middle fingers, trying to relieve some of the tension in my head.

“And besides, it’s late. I should be packing up my equipment right now.” I sighed, running my fingers through my hair. I wanted to say yes so damn badly, but I just met this guy. I couldn’t just saunter back to his apartment and sleep with him! I wasn’t that stupid.

“So? You’ve never fucked anyone when you’ve been a little tipsy, sweet thing? It’s a lot of fun,” he taunted in a sing-song tone of voice. “But, if you say so, I won’t keep askin’ you,” he squeezed my thigh before letting it go, taking a final sip of his beer. He leaned down, placing a lingering kiss to my cheekbone. I could smell the alcohol on his lips and the faded cologne on his shirt; the unfamiliar-yet-intoxicating scent made my heart race even more than it already was. I quickly scanned him up and down before peering back up into his half-lidded eyes.

“I’ll be seeing you around, sweetheart. You take care of yourself in the meantime, alright?” He told me, tossing on his cowboy hat and making his way through the large room and out the door. As he left, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had seen him before, and how familiar his name sounded. As I slowly refocused on my environment, I could hear people whispering and chatting with each other about the man who had just given me a kiss on the cheek.

“Holy shit, James from fucking Metallica was just in here!”

“Man, I should’ve asked for his autograph. I feel like such an idiot now. Did you see that woman he was talking with?!”

My eyes widened as I instinctively reached for my glass of liquor. I rose the rim to my lips, letting the bitter-tasting liquid fall onto my tongue. A member of Metallica had just chatted me up tonight. I felt a small smile curling onto my lips.

So that’s where I knew him from.

A.N: I finished this at like 3 am so I’m sorry if there are any spelling mistakes! This is the last fic I will post before I go into inactivity for a little while. Requests will be closed until I adjust to school and overall just get my life organized lmao. I’ll make a post announcing when they’ll be open again eventually. I hope you all enjoyed reading this!, thank you my love @marchymango for requesting it 🤍 Much love xoxo

#metallica #metallica x reader #james hetfield #james hetfield x reader #james hetfield fanfiction #james hetfield fluff #james hetfield smut #black album era #musiclover84898

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wanderingsoul6261 · 2 months ago

Text

Gif credit goes to entertainmentgirl80

Tyler Owens x Reader

Additional Note: scenes in this are improvised and aren't true to scenes in the movie (was at work when I wrote one half of it so I had to improvise. )

Would prefer if Minors DNI with this one, but nothing explicit happens, so just read at one's own discretion.

Warning: swear words, pretend sex, implied sex, let me know if i missed anything(although I'm willing to make the sex scene between the reader and Tyler if people are interested- if I added it into this it would have turned into a 3 part instead of a 2 part fic) - still very long so it probably should have been a 3 part regardless, but take it

Y/N was sitting on her bed, a book in her lap when a knock sounded at her door. She perked up, knowing exactly who it was before he walked through the door. She glanced at him as he let himself inside,their eyes catching each other's gazes as he shut the door behind him.

His eyes moved down as she closed her book, setting it on the nightstand next to her.

“Good book?”

“It's a book about lobotomies. So yes.” He raised an eyebrow in what looked to be concern as he walked further into the room. Y/N let out a laugh, a full belly laugh as she reassured him.

“I'm joking. It's a western. Not too bad.” She said, slipping out of the bed. His eyes roamed over her body, before he looked at her face, catching her staring at him with a smirk.

“Would you like a drink?” She asked, moving to the fridge that resided in the room. His eyes took in the little space that she was temporarily calling her own, her bed was slightly unmade, pillows in an unorganized heap. Her suitcase was tucked underneath the bed, but a neat pile of what he assumed to be dirty clothes sat in a pop up hamper sat near the bathroom, ready to be cleaned in the downstairs laundromat.

“Whatcha got?” he asked, finally moving his gaze back to her. Tyler watched as she looked into the fridge, clicked her tongue and turned to look back at him.

“Budweiser is all I got.” she said, cracking a smile. “Not really much for choices.” Tyler shook his head.

“That is okay. But, yea. I’ll take one.” He said. Y/N nodded, turning back around and grabbing two, lifting her shirt in her hand to twist the cap off of both bottles. Tyler caught a glimpse of her body underneath the shirt, his throat going dry as he thanked her for the drink.

“Just so we are on the same page.” Y/N started, moving to her side of the bed once again. “We aren’t doing anything frisky tonight.” She looked up at Tyler as he took a swig from his drink. “There is a bag by the front door for empties. Help yourself to more if you’d like.” she said, and he nodded in acknowledgement. Y/N was silent for a few moments as the stood stared at each other, taking each other in as they stood before each other. Their eyes moved over each other, trying to read the other person. There was something there, both could feel it, and Y/N was tired of waiting, and something in her also told her that Tyler likely felt the same way.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I liked you Tyler. I don’t want things to just be a fling when the season is over.” Tyler nodded, taking a few steps towards the bed. “And we don’t have to talk a lot about it tonight, but I do want to get to you better, if that’s okay.”

Tyler nodded.

“Yea, that’s fine, sweetheart. Anything you want.”

“Great. But, everyone probably didn’t see you come up here. Someone probably did though, so we have to make things look convincing in case someone walks in uninvited-”

“They do that?” he asked. She gave him a look that told him not to ask and he only held a hand up in understanding. “Got it. Anyways, go on.”

“Strip.” Tyler nearly choked on his beer at the order, looking at Y/N as she tried to withhold laughter.

“Pardon?”

“Just to your boxers.” She explained. “I’ll replace my shirt with your flannel, it looks more intimate that way. And then I’ll take just my shorts off.”

“You’ve really thought about this darlin’.”

“Possibly.” She cracked a smile, watching him as he started to unbutton his shirt. Tyler couldn’t help but smile back at her, the grin on her face was highly infectious. He was becoming hypnotized by her and everything that was her. Once his flannel was off, he tossed it in her direction, watching as she caught it effortlessly, setting it on the bed as she turned her body slightly, starting to take her tank top off. As she slipped it off her body, and Tyler watched as she did so, he saw that she wasn’t wearing a bra, his eyes on her backside as he slipped off his pants, dropping them carelessly on the floor of the motel.

At the sound, she turned her head slightly to look at him.

“Is this okay?” She asked, her eyes catching Tyler’s gaze. His heart thudded against his chest. He was okay with it, but the thought of her making sure it was okay with it caused his stomach to flip with butterflies. Most other women would have already tried to throw themselves at him, which is what already made Y/N different from the others. She was committed. She wanted this just as much as Tyler realized he wanted it.

“Yea.” His voice came out hoarse, followed by a raised eyebrow of amusement from Y/N. “It’s okay.” He spoke softly, crawling into the bed, setting his beer on the nightstand. Tyler watched as Y/N finished changing, buttoning up two buttons in the middle of his flannel and pulling her shorts off, tossing them across the bed to settle on the floor not far from his pants.

Tyler enjoyed the sight of his flannel over her body, falling about mid thigh, giving him much to think about.

He watched as she crawled into the bed next to him, shoulders brushing each other’s as Y/N turned on the dingy and very old tv, putting some old reruns of “That 70s Show”. As the two got comfortable, sitting in silence and spending a little bit watching the tv show, Tyler watched from the corner of his eyes as Y/N grinned, turning to him.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours darlin’?” He turned his attention from the tv and to her, trying not to let his wander to her cleavage, trying to remain polite.

“What to know what would really give them the impression that we fucked?” she asked. He let out a hum, his eyes drifted briefly to her lips before back to her eyes.

“What’s that?”

“We make sex noises, rock the bed so it hits the wall.” She tried to suppress a laugh as Tyler’s grin grew to match hers.

“God I fucking love that brain of yours.” He said. She blushed at the compliment, her cheeks and ears becoming a shade of red. “But we should also throw in some dirty talk. Y’know. That will really sell it.”

“Okay. Okay. Yes. Good thinking.” Y/N nodded, agreeing. “Who goes first?”

“Ladies first.” Tyler motioned for her to begin. Y/N started giggling, finding the idea funny, watching as Tyler also started to suppress a laugh.

Turning her head away from him, she composed herself, then let out a moan.

“Fuck Tyler. Yes, just like that.” She watched as Tyler smacked his hands against his thighs, imitating the sounds of skin slapping, before a low groan escaped his throat.

“Fuck, baby. So fuckin’ tight. Takin’ me so well Darlin’.” Y/N let out more moans, grabbing the headboard and rocking it against the well.

“Feel so good, Tyler. Fuck.” Y/N and Tyler looked at each other, trying to stifle their laughter as they continued the little charade. The two continued to groan and moan in between small bouts of laughter. The dirty talk also continued, as Y/N continued to rock the headboard against the bed. The two kept the charade up for about ten minutes.

“This pussy was made for me. Fuck, Y/N. Squeezing me so well. You’re close. I know it. I feel it.So am I Sugar.” His voice was almost guttural at this point, trying to imitate him being close to an actual orgasm.

Y/N moans got higher pitched and Tyler continued to make slapping noises.

“That’s it. Such a good girl, Y/N.” Tyler let out a broken groan, and Y/N let out a moan to match his, until the two finally let out a string of expletives, their fake moans and groans becoming broken as they reached their fake orgasms. The slapping of his hands on his thighs and the pounding of the headboard stopped. The two sat in silence for several moments, before the two broke out into quiet laughter, Y/N turning her head to muffle her laughter into the skin of Tyler’s shoulder and he turned his head to bury his face into her hair, his own laughter muffled by her hair, lips pressed against her head softly.

The two sat in silence once again, pressed slightly closer to each other than what they were previously, having not moved their heads away from each other, eyes back on the tv still playing old reruns. His fingers gently grazed her thigh, and she let him, pushing her thigh closer to his hand. Tyler let his hand move up, hand now settled entirely on her thigh, drawing small shapes.

“We should play 2 truths one lie. But instead of 2 truths, it's 2 lies and one truth.” Y/N finally spoke up, tilting her head slightly to look up at him. His eyes moved down to look down at her, moving to her lips briefly before back to her eyes.

“What are we? Teenagers?”

“Please.” She begged him. Tyler let out a sigh and rolled his eyes.

“Okay. Okay. I'll go first.” Tyler shifted slightly, getting comfortable, his grip tightening slightly on her thigh before it loosened. “Okay. I can't handle spicy foods, I've been storm chasing my entire life, and I had a Shetland pony named Ruger growing up.”

“Easy. You’ve been storm chasing you're entire life.” She said.

“No, actually. I had a Shetland pony growing up. The other two are lies. I can definitely handle spice and I've only been storm chasing since my late teens. Parents wouldn't let me go when I was younger.”

“You and a Shetland pony?”

“Yes. We were inseparable.” Tyler said, Looking down at her. “He was a Christmas gift. Absolutely adored him.”

“Figured you’d be more of a thoroughbred or Quarter horse kind of guy.”

“Nope. Had some, but Ruger was my guy.” He answered. His eyes moved back down to her. “You're turn sugar.”

“Okay. I had a thing for Javi.” She grinned at him, and he rolled his eyes, a small smile still on his face regardless. “ I've been bull riding.” She waited until his eyes moved back to her before she said the final one. Her hand came up to rest on his cheek, his head instinctively leaning down closer to her face. “I really enjoyed the kiss earlier.” His eyes moved back to her lips, before he moved in, his lips pressing against hers for the second time that night.

Tyler's hand moved to her waist, rolling on top of her, body pressed into hers. His hand slipped under his flannel, fingers grazing her stomach. She sucked in a breath, her hands looping around his neck, fingers finding homage in his hair.

Tyler moved away from her lips, trailing kisses down her jaw and towards her neck, biting and sucking on the skin where her neck met her shoulder. Her neck tilted away, giving him more space to work as she caved in to him.

“What do you want, Sugar.” He mumbled against her skin. Her legs spread for him, allowing him to move his hips between her legs. Tyler’s lips grazed her shoulder softly, before he pulled back and looked her in her face. She let out a groan, giving in to him.

“I owe you a ride don’t I?” She asked. Tyler smirked, the image of her wearing his cowboy hat ingrained in his mind.

“Atta girl.” Tyler flipped them over so that he was on his back and she straddled him. Her hands settled on his chest, her hands moving up and down his skin, taking in the feeling of him beneath her.

“I just ask for one thing, Tyler.” She said, Looking down at him, feeling vulnerable, in that moment.

“For you? Anything.” He said.

“No one night flings.”

“No. I'm afraid, after tonight darlin’, you’re stuck with me.”

“Good.”

—----

Y/N stepped out of her motel room, Tyler holding the door open for her before following her out. The two walk side by side, walking towards the stairs that would take them to the ground level. Everyone down below watched as they talked and exchanged laughs, only one of the groups finding solace in the evolution of the two’s relationship.

Their shoulders brushed together and Tyler’s hat was now back upon his head, looking down at Y/N as she spoke.

“I remember the bet from the bar last night. About the winner of the pool game. I am almost certain that you let me win.” She claimed, turning her head to look at him, a smirk on her face, one in which he had returned.

“Not sure I know what you are talking about, Sugar. That’s quite an accusation. But a deal is a deal. You get to choose who goes to what storm.” Tyler stopped her, pinning her to the railing of the second floor.

“Follow us.” Tyler stared at her.

“That’s not what I meant sweetheart.”

“I know. But it’s what I want.” She said. He stared at her for several moments longer before finally nodding.

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is.” His eyes moved past her and landed on the StormPar crew, who couldn’t tear their eyes away from the two. Two of his fingers slipped through a belt loop, pulling her towards him. He dipped his head down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss, grinning when they heard the Tornado Wranglers hootin and hollering.

“Still puttin a show on for them?” Y/N laughed against his lips once they pulled away.

“Using your words darlin’.” Tyler pulled away, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. His hand moved from her belt loop and to her waist. “It’s fun riling them up.” He grinned at her, before it turned into a soft smile. “You bought coffee yesterday. I’ll run across the street and get it this time.”

Y/N smiled up at him, a genuine smile, one that lacked mischievous and snark.

“Could get used to that smile of yours.” He murmured softly, taking all of her in.

“You better.” Her hands came up to rest on his neck, pulling him down for another kiss, fingers weaving into his hair as he pulled her against him.

“I don’t know if I can ever get used to kissing these lips of yours though. Each one is its own amazing experience.” Y/N let out a full belly laugh, Tyler pulling away to grin at her.

“Whatever, cowboy.You mentioned a cup of coffee?”

“On it.” He smirked at her and tipped his hat, making his way down the stairs. Y/N watched him go and watched as he interacted with his group, promising them all coffee on him as he walked off. StormPar glared at him as he passed them, politely tipping his hat in their direction.

Y/N finally made her way down the stairs, smiling at Tyler’s group as she walked past them, giving them all a good morning as she walked over to the StormPar vehicles. She held their gazes as they looked at her, most of them giving her a cold shoulder as she attempted to help them get ready for the day.

She tried offering input on weather conditions for each storm and would be better when compared to another. No one wanted to listen. Y/N tried offering help in getting technology and systems ready for the trip, but she was ignored.

“Don’t need to go another round with him?” Someone asked, shouldering past her. Her eyes watched them retreat, and when she turned to look at Javi, he couldn't even meet her gaze. Her throat closed up, and she moved to Lion, climbing into the back seat. Y/N stared at the back of the front passenger seat, the silence in the truck becoming suffocating.

“Owens hasn’t tainted you enough yet? Figured you’d be attached to him like a lovesick puppy after last night.” Scott’s voice reached her ears through the lowered window. She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the seat, trying to drown out the voices outside of the vehicle. Tyler and his group weren't terrible. They were competition though, and apparently it was frowned upon to be fraternizing with them.

Then she decided to make a rash decision, climbing out of the truck and making her way over to the other wrangler’s. Her feet crunched against the gravel on the ground, aware of the eye on her back as she held her head high, her sight focused on Boone, Lilly, and the others, who had all stopped what they were doing to watch her.

“Y/N. Tyler isn’t back with the coffees yet.” Lilly spoke up, catching her attention.

“I figured. I just…I was wondering if you guys would like a tag along.”

“You can have shotgun.” Boone told her. With that being said, Y/N sat with them, waiting for Tyler to return. She shared some laughs with them, in a much better mood than she was when she had walked over. Y/N mainly had taken the opportunity to get to know the group better, learning things that she never had the chance to learn previously.

It wasn’t much longer before Tyler had arrived back to them, his eyes catching the gaze of Y/N. His face turned to StormPar briefly before he finished handing out the coffees to everyone who had wanted one, the last one going to Y/N.

“What’s the issue?” He asked. “Everything okay?” Her gaze moved to the StormPar crew, before back to him. She didn’t have to say anything for him to understand what she was trying to tell him. He stepped closer to where she sat on the tailgate of his truck, hands coming to rest on her thighs, his cup of coffee abandoned next to her.

“Let them stew in it. We aren't breaking the law or anything. They are just a bunch of lonely pansies with nothing else to do.” He said, a finger coming up to tap her nose. “Understood?”

She laughed softly at his words and nodded.

“Understood.”

“Good. Now get your pretty ass up in that shotgun seat.” He helped her down from the tailgate and the two walked over to the passenger side. Tyler opened The door for her, a soft kiss landing on her temple as reassurance for the day, and landed a smack to her ass.

Y/N turned around, seeing him leaning against the open window, a cheeky grin on his face. It was infectious, and she couldn't help the smile she gave back to him.

Her smile faltered slightly, seeing Javi, Kate and Scott staring at them. Tyler turned his head, catching sight if the three and stared for a few seconds before he turned back to her.

“I get Rivera and Carter are your friends, but changes have to be made if they won't.” Y/N nodded as she looked at him.

“I'll talk to them tomorrow. See if we can reach common ground.” Tyler watched as she pulled her phone out, sending Javi a text message stating that, Just telling him he wasn't giving up on StormPar just yet.

“Y'know Sugar. StormPar isn't what you think they are.” Y/n turned her to look at him after pressing send.

“What d'you mean?”

“They feed off the weak. Talking to the victims like they do? The ones that lose their house and everything inside? They are moving in to buy from the victim and turn it around for their own gain.”

“And what are you trying to telling me to do?” She asked quietly. Y/N was surprised when she didn't feel shocked about the revelation. Watching interactions in destroyed towns between StormPar and victims had always left a sour taste in her mouth.

“Sweetheart, I'm not trying to tell you what you should do. You’re smart. I mean, you’re giving me a chance.” He grinned again at her and Y/N smiled, pressing a hand to his face in an attempt to push him away. Tyler only captured that hand in his own, thumbs running along her knuckles.

“What about you and your shirts?” She asked.

“All proceeds from the shirts go to buying food for those who need it after a disaster like an EF5. Yea, it's a little untasteful to sell some in the towns, but we don't keep any of it.” Tyler explained.W"its the difference between us and StormPar. We are in it for the communities. StormPar is in for themselves.” Y/N stared at him in thought, taking it all in. She has seen Lilly, Ben, when he wasn't taking photos, and some of the others passing food out to The people of the damaged communities. It was slowly starting to make sense to her. She turned her head to look back at Tyler, seeing him still staring at her, head tilted slightly.

“Kiss me?” It came out as more of a question than a demand.

“Yes ma'am.” He tipped his head forward, tip of his stetson tilting up slightly as it brushed against her head. Boone made fake gagging noises in the back as Ben climbed in next to him.

Y/N smiled into the kiss, amused at Boone's childish antics. The kiss was gentle and soft, full of promise.

When the two pulled away, Tyler pressed a few more chaste kisses to her lips, before giving her a knee weakening smirk and walked around to get into the driver seat.

“Alright ladies and gentleman. We have a storm to chase.”

—---

Y/N looked over to where Tyler was, currently helping a family find their dog. She watched as he showed genuine concern, reassuring the family, before her head moved to where some of his group members sold shirts and passed out food and water to those who needed it.

They were truly the light at the end of the tunnel, while StormPar seemed to be the preceding darkness, back behind them.

“Y/N!”

Many heads turned at the mention of her name, mostly from the Wranglers as she stopped and watched as Javi ran up to her.

“What's going on?” He asked, coming to a stop in front her.

Tyler paused his search for the dog, watching the two, although he couldn't hear what was being said. His eyes were focused on Y/N as she spoke with her boss.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“Riding with the Tornado Wranglers? Of all people?” He asked. as Y/N watched him, she was almost certain he wanted to say something about Tyler, but had held his tongue.

“I obviously didn't feel welcomed with you guys earlier. And Tyler and his crew have been nothing other than welcoming.” Again. He looked like he wanted to say something but bit it back.

“They are only in this all for themselves. I mean, they sell shirts with Owens face on them, for fucks sake.”

“It's for a better cause than StormPar.” She snapped. “Really? Preying off the families that just lost their homes and everything else they own? buying properties for a reasonable margin and then turning it all around to sell for more for your own gain?”

“We are helping these people.”

“Bullshit. Tyler and his crew have a larger foot in the door helping these people. Using proceeds to buy food and water for those that need while you do nothing of the sort.”

“Smart talk coming from the person who killed three of our friends.” Y/N stopped, feeling like she had been slapped across the face. Even Javi released the damage of his words. She took a step back as her reached for her.

“Y/N, I didn't-”

“No.” her shaky voice cut him off as she turned to walk away.

“Y/N. I'm sorry, just please. Let's talk about this.” His voice fading as her ears started pounding, her eyes moving frantically in front of her before catching sight of Tyler. He stood in the middle of a bunch of rubble, his eyes trained solely on her, having watched the conversation turned into an argument. She swallowed thickly, before turning away and running over to Lion, climbing in. The truck roared to life and she spun tires as she left, leaving everyone in the rear view mirror.

—---

Y/N found refuge in her parents barn, now belonging to her brother and his family. All of her storm equipment and tests and everything else in between still existed her, behind closed doors and semi forgotten. Many pieces collected dust, but the most well loved was her little alcove in the back corner.

A small projector lit up the room, casting a video of a Tornado, sound and everything included around the room. She sat in a bean bag, knees pulled to her chest, tears pricking the corner of her eyes threatening to fall as they were trained on the force of nature. When light flooded the small room, she didn’t move.

Silence filled the air between who stood there watching her and Y/N.

“You’re brother said I’d find you here.” her gaze snapped to Tyler’s, not expecting to see them there.

“Tyler, I’m so-” She was cut off. Y/N wanted to apologize for leaving him, but he held up his hand, silencing her. He moved into the small room, squatting down in front of her. Her eyes followed him, the tears finally falling.

“I had always thought your name sounded familiar. Dexter was the one to piece it all together.” He went silent for a few moments. “I’m sorry to hear about your friends. It’s not your fault.”

“It is though.”

“You never expected it to end the way it did.” Tyler brought a hand up to rest on her leg, providing reassurance.

“They didn't have to die.” She whispered.

“No, they didn't. And it sucks. I know it does sweetheart. But it's not your fault. and Rivera had no right to throw it in your face.” He reassured Her. His hands came to rest on her cheeks. “Are you listening to me?” He asked. Y/N nodded, causing him to give her a soft smile. “Good. Now come out and get some food. Your brother said they haven't seen a lot of you in the last few days, and his wife just made a killer feast.” Y/N chuckled at his last sentence, before she stood up, Tyler doing the same. He leaned down and pressed a long Kiss to her lips, the two of them melting into it.

“I'm sorry for leaving and not saying anything.” Y/N mumbled against his lips after They pulled away.

“It's okay Sugar.” He spoke with the same soft tone as her, his hands coming up to wrap around her, pulling her into a tight hug.

Y/N had fallen further in love with Tyler twice that night. The first one being that exact moment, understanding and caring for her in a way no one else but her brother and his wife did.

The second moment was watching as Tyler interacted with her niece and nephew as they all watched a movie. Her niece sat in his lap, her nephew sitting on the couch next to him as he told them stories about storm chasing, getting vocal and overdramatic to add excitement for the two young children.

A smile sat on her face, widening further as she locked eyes with Tyler during one part of his current story. A feeling that no words could have described passed between the two, knowing instantly that no matter what, they were both in it for the long ride.

And as everyone turned in for the night, and Tyler had beaten Y/N to bed, he had his arms open and already waiting for her. She crawled into them, burying her face into his chest as he buried his face into her neck, hands resting on her lower back and tangled into her hair.

Her arms moved to wrap around his torso, fingers drawing shapes into his back.

“Thank you, cowboy.”

“Anything for you, Sugar.” He mumbled against her skin, moving to press a kiss to her temple before the two of them fell asleep.

----

#twisters tyler owens #tyler owens #tyler owens x reader

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thecoffeelovingfreak · 7 months ago

Text

𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓

pairing: boothill x gn!ex-undertaker!reader

genre(s): western!au, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

word count: 14k

warnings: written before v2.2 & boothill's release, blood, injury, gun violence, swearing, alcohol consumption, implied/referrenced alcoholism, suicidal thoughts, graphic depictions of violence, death

notes: I've spent about the last month working on this a little bit each day, so I hope you enjoy this labor of love :). Feel free to tell me any warnings I might have missed! I also want to add that this is told in the past and present with flashback scenes in italics. Anyway, here are some flowers as a thank you for everyone who reads this! 💐 <3

Read it on ao3!

~~~

Dark clouds shrouded the sky as shots rang out across the valley. Dried mud fell from the edges of your boots in time with the gallops of your horse. Turning back, you aimed your revolver at one of the officers, red spread over his dirtied shirt not long after. A silver bullet grazed its way over the left side of your neck, leaving a stream of scarlet running down to stain your sharp white collar. The tarnished grey vest covering it blew open harshly in the breeze as you winded down the path into town.

Shouts echoed in the street as you leaned down, bringing the reins closer to your chest. Dainty yellow flowers reflecting the bit of sunlight breaking from the coming storm became trampled by hooves. Jumping the fence into a stranger’s backyard, you once again shot at another pursuant. He fell crudely from his ride, the horse startled and stopping before the same pickets.

With just one now on your tail, you jumped again, making a quick right down a small pathway and breaking out into the wide and dusty main street. Townsfolk jogged for cover in the shops, not unfamiliar with this song and dance, and carrying enough awareness to leave what could become an impromptu duel.

You spot a figure stepping out quietly from the nearby saloon, making his way behind the establishment. Bringing the reins together in one hand, you pulled tightly. Your horse stopped, and you brought them around to face the remaining officer – the deputy based on his badge. He pulled down the hammer on his revolver, aiming straight for your forehead. Bringing your hands up, you faced your palms outward alongside your head in mock defense. A small smirk grew on your face as you picked up on near silent hooves approaching the street.

“What’re you smilin’ about?” he asked pointedly.

A bang came from before you as blood splattered and flowed from the deputy’s head. He landed limp in the damp dirt, a look in his eyes that you could recall anywhere. The gaze of death – a complete absence of life in a form once animated.

A large stallion sidled up to you, a familiar head of black and white hair gesturing toward the path out of town. Angry shouting filled the street as people left their shelters, some staring you down and others rapidly walking to you, waving a hand or a weapon.

“We’d best get out of here before you can raise some more heaven.”

“You lead the way, then.”

With a wild speed, he took off ahead of you, wool cape billowing in the chilled air. You caught up quickly however, racing to pass the city limits and be in the wide-open again.

Desert ironwoods and mesquite trees became more abundant among the varying cacti. White translucent blossoms formed on some of them, while others rested uniquely. The sun began to pour further from the clouds, casting its rays over the light brown land as you rode on. At the top of a shady hill, you paused for a drink.

A husky voice broke through the birdsong, “Why don’t you get down for a minute?”

You looked at him quizzically, drying the corner of your mouth.

He matched your gaze sternly, “Well, first, you’re bleedin’ out the side of your neck. Second, I’m curious what that sweet mess you brought into town was,” his gaze softened as a proud smile grew on his face, “and third, I wanna hold you under the tree for a bit. It’s midday and I had ordered some fine lunch from the bar. I wasn’t expecting to be shootin’ a man instead of sittin’ with you.” he finished with a chuckle.

“You can sit with me now.” you retorted, lifting one leg around your horse before making the jump off.

“Indeed, I can.” he replied smoothly, reciprocating your action.

Drawing open the satchel hanging along his stallion, Boothill pulled out two small packs – one likely containing a meal and the other a makeshift aid kit. Although he never needed food, and rarely required bandages, he would always carry them in the event that your supplies would run out. It was part of the reason he had initially gone into town, but you happened to bring in the lawmen on your way to meet him.

Tidying the braid in your horse’s hair, you felt cold fingertips brush against your shirt collar, shifting it to the side. A white cloth rested on your empty saddle, a few materials from the aid kit on top. A cold rag rubbed against the outer edges of your scrape before it was placed on your shoulder, the left side being held to the front of your neck. Water flowed down along the wound, giving the cloth a light pink color. It was an uncomfortable sensation, but one that you had grown used to after years on the range.

Another wet cloth swiped across the injury, leaving light streaks of antiseptic behind. A quick rip reached your ears before a flat gauze pad was gently placed at the site and a gauze wrap surrounded your neck snugly. It would only stay for a few days, needing your remaining kit supplies to be maintained.

A grey brim soon came into view as a hat was placed on your head.

“Now you’re lookin’ like a real outlaw.” Boothill smiled as he gathered up all of the medical items and walked them back to his satchel.

You snickered before replying, “Should I get one the next time we go to Warren? I’d reckon it’s about time.”

“I’m afraid we ain’t got the funds for that right now, there’s just enough to get provisions.”

“I never said I would be buying one, cowboy.” You retorted, slowly striding to where he stood and flicking your borrowed hat upward.

“Well go ahead and take ‘em for all they’ve got, then we can pay a little visit to the theater.” He slid his right arm around your waist, lightly dragging you closer.

“Are you askin’ me on a date?”

“Maybe I am, sugar.”

Placing his hat back on his head, you left a small kiss on his cheek and turned out of his arms, swiping your lunch from his saddle in the process. “Why don’t we have one now?”

He smiled, teeth sharp and eyes playful, before following behind you to the tree.

—

PART I - Sorrow-Gilded Equals

“Boothill, that’s my name.” The cyborg in front of you replied, swirling his glass of whiskey before drinking it down.

He stood tall, a firm steel body paired with shining silver eyes, determination reverberating in his gaze. It seemed only natural that he was the first to draw your attention, raucously celebrating the year’s final round-up with his fellow rangers.

“Say, undertaker,” he looked over, “care to join us for a round?”

You glanced backward from the bar to the faro table housing a few of the gang. A hand hit the wood in laughter, empty amber bottles rattling against each other. The owner of said hand brought twelve checks back to his stacks.

“Quit your cacklin’, you smug cutie!” Boothill shouted, leaning back against the bar.

“Oh, you flatter me, you gunslingin’ sack of shit! Get over here and give me a fun time, why don’t you!”

“Gunslingin’, huh?” you teased, “I thought that was forbidden on the trail.”

“Well, I ain’t never been one for rules.”

“Really, now? And here I thought cowboys had a sense of honor.”

“We do, but it don’t always follow convention.”

With a hum you turned, walking slowly to the group’s oval table. “I’ll join you, and so will he.” A gesture toward Boothill brought him over, where he took a seat across from you. After a few curt introductions, he voiced, “Will here is the banker,” before pulling out a small bag of nickels from a satchel on his belt.

You followed suit and exchanged them for checks and a hexagonal copper token from Will. He layed out all of the spades in two rows on his board – ace through 6 on the top, and king through 8 on the bottom. The seven sat at the end of both rows between the 6 and the 8. He placed another deck of cards in the dealing box and drew the soda before burning it off.

You placed one of your checks on the nine, betting that it would be drawn second. Will pulled and revealed the first of two cards in the deck. A three, to which Isaac had groaned. Next, he revealed the second card, a nine. With the losing and winning ranks determined, you had won the bet at 1 to 1 odds, bringing in another check on top of the one you wagered. Isaac lost his check to Will, leaving Boothill and Lee’s bets still on the table.

The losing card from the previous round went beside the face-down soda card. You placed two checks on five this time, watching as Boothill put three with yours. Isaac went for four, and Lee remained on ten. Five was the winning card this round.

The black, white, and red of the cards began to fade together as the night went on. After several rounds, you found yourself toe to toe with the “gunslinger”. He didn’t speak a word as you both prepared for the final bet.

Ten of your checks went on one, and ten of his were set on eight.

Will drew and displayed the cards, one was the second, making you the victor.

Boothill relaxed into his chair with a low whistle, “Seems like I’ve finally got some competition! What d’ya say to another game?”

“Well, I’m not one to turn down a challenge. Ready for a duel, cowboy?”

“Always.” he smiled, shifting forward to prepare for the coming rounds.

As Will prepped the next game, the doors to the saloon broke open abruptly.

“There you are, you no-good son of a bitch!”

A bang echoed through the saloon as a bullet shot straight for your table. A silver revolver appeared in view before sharp lead was firing toward the entrance. Boothill’s gun returned to its holster as the intruding man crumpled to the floor. Blood covered the wood, spreading into the grain and taking its place among the many stains.

Isaac approached the bartender, likely trying to give him some money and charm to resolve the incident. Lee strode to the body, kicking it over and revealing a green bandana in their pocket.

“Yep, no doubt he was here for us, Hill. One of Walker’s boys.”

You were slightly familiar with the name; Lloyd Walker was in charge of one of the most prominent gangs around. There were countless ambushes with him as the figurehead, and just from the mention alone you could observe various reactions across the establishment. Few continued on in their games, veterans to these types of conflict. Others seemed stiff or enraptured in conversation about the man. In the case of many of these rangers, their eyes had a fire of revenge.

Walking to stand by Lee, you folded your arms. “Well, he ain’t one of Walker’s boys, anymore. He’ll be mine by morning and the dirt’s by sundown.”

“Need help moving him?” Boothill offered, leaning down to pick up the fallen gun.

“Sure.” you accepted plainly.

He handed the gun to Lee who inspected it as Boothill lifted the corpse, carrying him over his shoulder without a care. The jaunty tune of the piano resumed as you left the saloon with the gunslinger.

"I must admit, undertaker, this here was quite the party."

"Glad I could entertain."

“It wasn’t just you. I forgot how much I missed the thrill of a standoff; this old town doesn’t provide those opportunities like it used to.”

“How roguish for a ranger, but I’d have to agree.”

“Oh? Is the resident mortician gettin’ into trouble after hours?”

“Only with you around.”

“But we’ve only known each other for a night, unless I’ve ran into you somewhere before?”

Your boots resounded over the boardwalk deck as you kept walking silently to the front of your parlor. He didn't press further and waited quietly for you to unlock the back door.

With a creak, said door went wide open and you watched carefully as he flipped the body over on a mortuary table.

Finished, he grabbed a nearby towel to dry the blood off and clean himself up. You got a better look at him as he did so, no longer caught up in games and drinking.

A story spread around town, over a decade ago. It didn't stick around for long, but you witnessed it yourself. There was a boy – probably about fifteen at the time. He arrived on the back of a horse before being taken into the jailhouse. At the end of the week, he had been released, and took up odd jobs around the area. He headed out on the range a few months later for the fall round-up, then never came back.

"I'll see myself out, good luck with this rottin’ sweetheart."

A hand turned the back door open once more before Boothill exit casually. It was half-closed when you finally responded.

"Perhaps."

He paused, shifting to look you in the eyes.

"You're Jesse Blackwell, right?"

His gaze fell to the floor, "Once, but I ain't anymore… Goodnight, undertaker.” He dismissed with a tip of his hat and a small smile, shutting the door as he left.

—

Soaked ground squelched beneath your boots, the now sunny sky reflecting in the soft brown. The streets of Warren were bustling, showcasing its status as the second largest city in the state. A dark grey cowboy hat rested on your head, a shining black belt running around its center. Stealing it was easy, all you had to do was get some drunken fool to follow you to an alley. Point your gun at him and wait for him to give you all he has, then leave with a cold threat – revolver boring hard into his head. If he talks, he’ll be hunted down and stripped of his tongue. If he runs after that, he’ll be gunned down where he stands. You had done it before, and wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.

Boothill opened the doors to Jerrell’s General Goods a few buildings down the road, disappearing inside. You leaned up against one of the front posts of the hotel, watching coaches and uncovered wagons traverse the main street. Your horse whinnied from beside you where they stood, resting and glancing around on occasion. A soft breeze brushed against your neck, the chill of former rain still present. Small thumps came from your left as somebody passed behind you.

A hand landed on your shoulder, turning you around against the post. They gripped the collar of your shirt, leveling their gaze with yours.

“I’ve been lookin’ for you for a long time, you coward.” They threw you into the mud, stepping down from the deck in anger. “You remember me?”

Standing up you replied, “Somebody’s always got a feud with a person like me, I’m afraid you’ll need to be more specific.”

“Town of Fort Talia, five years ago. You murdered my brother.”

“Jasper?”

“Well, it seems you do recall.”

He swung his right arm, fist colliding with the side of your face. It hurt terribly, but fights weren't uncommon to you. With where you grew up, and some training from Boothill, it came easy now.

You raised your own right arm, blocking his next hit before bringing your left up to target underneath his nose. He stumbled back a bit at the pain, and you hit again at his right cheek and then upward from under his jaw. He took a second to level himself before spitting at the ground and pulling his pistol from his pocket. He turned it over in his hand, the grip facing outward.

"Do you not know how to use it, Ellis?"

"I do, but I want you to feel my sufferin’ first.”

The grip crossed your cheekbone, sending a sharp sting across the plane. With you now staggered, a knife plunged into your torso just above the hip. It remained lodged in your flesh as you clashed onto the ground, mud coating your clothes.

Ellis stood still for a moment, watching. He glanced down at the gun, preparing to fire it off. Quickly and with slight caution, you drew your revolver and shot him between the eyes. He fell as the horses shifted and voiced their discomfort. Your head lay in the mud, breath trying to calm after the incident.

"You've always been a good-for-nothing piece of shit, Ellis." You whispered.

Standing up carefully and to the best of your ability, you heard something heavy landing on wood before wet footsteps.

“Hey, now,” Boothill said, hands coming to brace your elbows and steady you. “Who came and dragged you to heaven?” His eyes assessed you – up and down, side to side – then he brought your left arm around his neck.

"You couldn't hear us fightin' from the store? Here I thought you’re supposed to have superior hearing.”

Ignoring you, he placed you against his horse, retrieving the full satchels from the deck and laying them down beside you. His cold hands came to pick you up, setting you just behind his saddle, legs hanging over the side to keep yourself in the stablest condition possible. Lifting his right leg under himself, he mounted his stallion, beginning to ride down the main street to a destination unknown.

"What about…" you trailed off, eyes growing weary.

"I’ll take care of it, you just rest."

"Whatever you say, cowboy."

Your head rested against his right shoulder, the cool leather of his jacket soothing the burning cuts from Ellis' pistol. The only thing keeping you lucid was the persistent movement inside of you, slicing against more flesh at every stomp of hooves. If you had a mirror, you're sure that you'd look like hell – Boothill was right.

It was saddening that the other Weston boy had spent the last few years hunting you down. He spent practically his entire life distant and running away, and now he had the guts to ambush you in the city. Still, you supposed whatever old grudge he carried now lay dead alongside him.

—

The first time you laid eyes on Jasper was at his mother's funeral. He stood in a thick coat beside his brother watching wordlessly on with silent tears. A wooden cross sat before a mound of dirt, engraved with the following:

Callie Weston

A strong mother, and relentless woman.

1846 - 1879

Her grave wasn’t far from your father’s, a bushel of freshly picked desert marigolds resting under his own headstone from your visit. Two of the bright yellow flowers still rested in your pocket as you walked to the family’s side.

Placing the blossoms underneath the delicately carved wood, you spoke softly, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” Ellis whispered.

“I’m sorry for yours as well.” Jasper had replied.

With a nod of your head, you left them to their mourning.

When you made it into town from the cemetery, shouts could be heard in front of the saloon.

“Go home, you idiot!”

“Have a little compassion!”

“I do, but my compassion doesn’t include wastin’ away here while your boys are up on that hill.”

The man stumbled slightly down from the deck, voice cracking as he said, “Surely you can understand, mister… please.”

“Go home, Isaiah. Try to sober up before they get back.”

The bartender threw his cloth over his shoulder before leaning against the post, waiting patiently. Isaiah wiped his hand down his bearded face as he exhaled, then walked off down the street toward the few blocks of houses.

Gesturing at a nearby man, the bartender lowly spoke, “Hey, will you follow him? Make sure he stays safe and doesn’t do anythin’ wild.”

You crossed in front of the saloon doors as the man walked off, trailing behind the drunken one.

“Wait a minute, kid.”

Pausing in your steps, you turned around to face the swinging doors to the saloon. The bartender came out as quick as he went in – a bag in hand this time.

“Some oil guy came through town not long ago, ordered more food than he even wanted. There’s untouched steak and soup in there, it’ll probably need to heat up again. Share it or keep it to yourself.”

“Thank you kindly, sir.”

With a polite nod, he disappeared back into the establishment, yelling at some other unruly patrons.

That evening you brought a couple portions of that meal to Jasper and his family. It took a bit of asking around to find them, but soon enough you were knocking on their door.

Ellis answered, looking down at you coldly.

“I wanted to bring you some food. Hopefully you’ll enjoy it.”

He took the bag wordlessly, before shutting the door.

“I have some stew for you, mama.”

Her gaze never drifted from the window as you placed the warm bowl beside her. Draping a cloth over her lap, you watched her solemn face. Silently, she turned for the bowl, letting it rest in her likely cold hands.

You stood, walking to fetch her tea from the kitchen. Upon return, you found her gently bringing the spoon to her lips, shaking lightly as she did so.

With a soft thud, the mug settled on dark wood. Drawing a book from the nearby shelf you sat down next to her, flipping the leather cover open.

You read calmly from the pages, skipping over or changing words you didn't quite know. It had been a couple years since you stopped going to the schoolhouse, after all. There was just no time after your father died, especially with your mother in this state.

A hand landed quietly on your knee, drawing your attention back to her. Marking your new spot in the book, you set it down with the remnants of her meal.

She brought her hand down to yours, gripping quickly in thanks. It was dejecting seeing her like this, but after this long it was hard to picture her outside of mourning.

"Why do you never talk to me, mama? Did I do somethin' wrong?"

With a shake of her head, her gaze returned to the window and her hands to her lap.

About a week later, you remember waking up early to the sound of your dog barking loudly from the front yard. Donning your heavy coat, you opened the door to find Jasper trying to pet her down at the fence line.

"Is this your dog?" he had asked.

"Yes."

"She's real pretty…Thanks by the way, for dinner."

"It's no problem. I had extra."

"I noticed you were visiting someone of your own."

"My papa." you replied, standing beside him and petting the long fur of your dog. "He was caught robbin’ a wagon full of weapons and shot by the lawmen, at least that's what I heard. Mama never said nothin' to me about it."

He hummed, looking down and rubbing behind the ear of your dog.

"My mama was sick for a long time. It was hurtin' my dad forever, probably even more now. He doesn't really care how it makes me feel – my brother neither. They just leave angry in the mornin' and come back even worse at night."

A minute of vulnerable silence passed between you, before Jasper spoke up again.

"Are you headin' to school?"

"No. I'll have to be at work soon."

His eyes seemed wide for a second before he shifted, "Where do you work?"

"At the funeral parlor, as an assistant to the director."

"Why would you pick a job like that?”

“I don’t really know. I just saw the horse-drawn hearse moving down the street and felt somethin’ come over me.”

“I think I can understand,” he whispered, looking down into your dog’s eyes.

He stayed like that for a moment as you rested in the early morning quietness. A bird sang abruptly from the nearby tree, and he perked up once more.

“Would you want to walk down to the river with me? We could try and catch a frog or two before daybreak.”

“I guess.”

“Great,” he nodded.

And that became your routine. Every morning, he would come see you and your dog. Sometimes he would have a little snack for her in hand and other times he would have a paper with some work he couldn’t quite figure out. Being with him by the river was a pleasant thing – something to get both of your minds off of circumstance.

“I plan on retiring next year, and I would like for you to be my successor.”

The world seemed to still as Mr. Whitfield sat calmly, waiting for your response. His aging black hair shifted lightly in the wind, his gaze out over the nearby buildings. Cool stone rested under your back as you leaned against the parlor's walls.

“I… I’m honored, sir.”

“Oh, just call me Peter already. We’ve worked together long enough.”

“Thank you, Peter.”

The sounds of the town took over for a moment before he stood up, walking in through the door. A commotion drew your eyes up from the deck, watching as someone rode in with a grumbling figure on the back of their horse. The person in the saddle had a dark green bandana hanging out of their pocket – the trademark of a growing gang in the area.

They dismounted across the street from you, just in front of the jailhouse. Both of the deputies came out shortly after, one talking to the person then bringing them in. The other approached the horse, throwing the figure over his shoulder. They disappeared into the sheriff’s office, seemingly exchanging words about what to do with the two.

“Here are some books I’ve used over the years,” Peter said, a small stack in his hands, “If you’re going to take over the business, there’s more you’ll need to learn. Feel free to take these home if you’d like.”

“I appreciate it.”

He handed the books to you, then returned to his seat in front of the parlor. You decided to join him, setting the stack on your right.

As the gravity of your future inched in, you laid back against the stained wood of the bench. Your right foot tapped on the deck, reverberating over the plane anxiously while your thoughts became jumbled.

“What’s weighing on you, kid?”

“I’m just… starting to doubt myself is all.”

“I was the same as you when I first inherited this business from my father. He was always kind and courteous, served the community well. I’m passing this on to you because I see you as my kin. I have every confidence in you, whether you see the potential in yourself or not.”

His words brought water to your eyes, making you inhale and look away towards the snowy mountains in the distance.

Sniffling brought your attention back as Jasper walked up to the deck, cradling his left arm with the other hand.

“Are you alright, boy?” Peter questioned.

“Could I go inside?” he asked gently, making eye contact with you.

Standing up, you guided him into the entry room of the parlor, watching as he sat on the sofa.

“I ran as fast as I could, I figured since it was day you’d be here.”

“What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it yet.”

“Alright. I’ll go get some coffee and an aid kit.”

Turning to leave the room, you heard him speak up again.

“Can I come with you?”

“Of course.”

It was probably about five months later when you found Jasper sitting on the bench of the parlor, bottle in hand. After locking the door, you went and took a seat next to him.

“What are you doing, Jas?”

“I don’t know. I feel like I don’t know nothin’ anymore.”

“That’s not true.”

He tilted his head before taking another sip. Your right hand came to rest at the back of his neck.

“Talk to me… please. Nothin’ you say will leave this porch.”

“I… think I’m not cut out for this.”

“What do you mean?”

“This,” he gestured around the street, “I do my best in everything, and it still isn’t good enough. My dad couldn’t give a shit about me and my brother anymore, all he does is drink and sleep. He hardly ever goes to work – I wouldn’t be surprised if he was fired by now! Ellis ain’t much better. He leaves for the farm early, storming into my room and draggin’ me out before he goes. Always tellin’ me I need to grow up – that I’m not man enough for this world. It’s not like I have a job, and I ain’t been going to the schoolhouse much recently either. I figured since I’m set to be finished there soon anyway, I could start skippin’. I just… wish my mama was still here. Even when she was sick, she still went through every day with more strength than I’ve ever had… Looking back now, I think she accepted that death was comin’, and she lived to her fullest because of it. Maybe I could take a page out of her book. I know that this all might seem sudden, but you’re the only one I’ve got.”

“You’re good enough to me, Jas. Even if that doesn’t seem like much, I want you to know. Your family is just too ignorant to understand. You’ve got plenty of grit in you, but you still show that you care.” You sighed before continuing, “And I understand. While my mama might not be dead, she hasn’t spoken since my father died. I still try my best to take care of her, but it’s like she’s just sittin’ there, waiting for her day to come.”

The snorting of a nearby horse broke the heavy atmosphere.

“If it’s a job you want, you’re always welcome here. Peter would gladly have you work the front. Just come talk to him tomorrow.”

“Alright.” he smiled smally.

“Hand me the bottle?”

Glass hit the wooden deck as you set down the exchanged liquor. Standing up, you reached out a hand for him.

“Come on, you can stay with me.”

Jasper’s life only worsened just two months after that night at the parlor. He didn’t come in for work that day, and you couldn’t find him anywhere usual in the town.

Crying and a thump at your front door brought you away from your mother’s side. You had been tidying her hair, a simple activity you would do to help her before she started her nightly routine.

Peering from one of the windows, you saw him waiting in your front yard, holding onto your dog for comfort. He looked up in your direction when you emerged from the dimly lit doorway, walking down the stairs from the porch.

“He shot him. Shot him dead, right in front of me.”

You got on your knees in front of him, bringing your hand to his shoulder.

“I… I was comin’ home from a walk, I… I went out to clear my head. Ellis, he stormed out with my dad trailin’ behind him. His eyes… they were just fed up – bloodthirsty almost. He looked at me. God, I’ll never forget that stare. They yelled at each other some more, going’ on about somethin’. My brother… he drew his gun, shot my dad right in the chest four times. He came over to me, put a hand on my head and told me things would be better now. Like hell they will! He took off on some horse – he’s gone now too. Out runnin’ from the law and leavin’ me high and dry with nothing.”

He let go of the dog, running his hand down his face. She walked off to somewhere behind you, sniffing around.

“I’ve got nothin’ but you, now.” He whispered, looking up at you full of turmoil.

You brought both arms around him, feeling him start to cry again.

“I know my dad had his grief, even when my mama was sick he’d be out doin’ who knows what. Still, I… I can’t help this weight on me.”

“It’s natural, Jas. You lost two people tonight, despite your experiences with them, it’s still a loss.”

He exhaled shakily, shifting back from you and rising to stand on his feet. You matched him before bringing your hand back to his shoulder, rubbing your thumb lightly against the edge of his neck.

“How about supper? Would that help a little?”

“Yeah… yeah.” he sighed.

Together you walked to the front door, and on this occasion, your dog followed too.

—

PART II - Redemption for the Wayward

Winces and the metallic echoes of medical tools could be heard from the nearby room. Boothill rested in an entry room chair, leaning back with his hat over his face. There was nothing in this space he wanted to look at – nothing he sought to remember. Your sounds of pain didn’t help either.

He had gotten stitches himself many years ago, but the scars were long gone now.

A sharp cry resounded down the hall, followed by hushed murmurs from the doctor. There was a fiery response, before the room went quiet again.

It wasn't the first time he had found you in trouble – far from it in fact. Since the day you started riding together, it seemed like thunder followed. Be it the sounds of hooves, gunfire, glasses on the table, or simply storms themselves.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

—

"I want to leave with you."

It was the only time you had ever seen surprise on Boothill’s face.

Holding his gaze you continued, “Does that sound like a plan?”

“I… I don’t see why not. Are you sure you don’t want to clean up first?”

As if answering his question, whistles broke out two streets down. A few shouts from who you assumed to be lawmen echoed, sending a wave of fear through you.

“No. I’ll find a river or somethin’ later, right now we just need to get out.”

“Mind explainin’ why they’re lookin’ for you?”

You appeared stunned for a moment, before you recalled the events that led to the blood on your hands.

“Please… please just end me already.”

“You know I can’t do that to you, Jas.”

He ran his hand through his hair, revealing more of his distraught face. “You’ve seen me… I’m just like my father and there ain’t nothin’ I can do about it no more.”

“That’s not true.”

“Don’t lie to me, we both know I’m right.”

“Jasper, please, come over here so we can talk this out.”

“We’re talkin’ it out right now.”

“Don’t be like that.”

“I’m sick of talkin’ anyway. I put my blood, sweat, and tears into trying to get rid of this feeling, but it never leaves. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

You stood on the back porch of your parlor, watching as he pulled a gun from his side. He walked to you, leaving it on the chair to your left.

Just three months ago you watched Boothill walk from this porch, the hint of new friendship roaming on the wood.

Two months ago, you bid farewell to your new assistant, a promise of success growing over the stain.

One month ago, your mother spoke to you for the first time in seven years, apologies and regret falling from her lips.

Now, you would be in the greatest standoff of your life.

“If I’m gonna die I want you to do it.”

“No.”

He grabbed your left hand, lifting the gun up from where it rested. “Give me my freedom, please. We both know nothin’ else will.”

“Jas…”

“Stop wastin’ your breath.”

A set of tears rolled down your cheeks, and in a final act of care, Jasper wiped them away.

“Don’t cry for me. I want this. I want to see my mama again, healthy and bright. Maybe even my dad,” his voice broke, “smilin’ and rocking on the porch. I may even see you one day, too.”

He inhaled before bringing your hand up to his forehead, a sad look of acceptance and peace on his face. He nodded, the barrel of the gun shifting up and down.

“Goodbye, Jasper.”

A shot rang out, slightly muffled from the circumstance. Blood splattered down to the dirt, soaking into it crudely. Jasper’s body tumbled back down the wooden steps, landing face up at the end. He looked content, the dead light in his eyes causing conflicting waves of emotion within you.

There would be no time to feel them, though. Not yet. Even if it was nearing midnight, there was always a deputy out somewhere.

You descended the scarlet-covered steps, kneeling down to close his eyes. A warmth spread over your hands as you did so, red coating your fingers when you pulled them away.

Exhaling heavily, you left the back alley, on the lookout for a horse.

Boothill told you he’d be leaving tonight, after a final few rounds of faro at the other saloon in town. Why, he never shared, but you figured it had something to do with the incident a couple months back.

If you were lucky you could join him – head out on the road of an outlaw. It wasn’t an idea you had ever considered before, but now it seemed like the only choice.

The fire crackled in front of you, smoke rising to the starry sky. Boothill sat beside you, hands occupied with a knife and a piece of wood, idly carving.

In the silent peace, you felt the gravity of your actions begin to set in. Water crept over your eyes, gathering along the edges and flowing down your cheeks. Your quiet cries were some of the only noise in this area of the desert. Somewhere out of the town limits and secluded enough to provide cover in case of any emergency.

“Do you… have any regrets?” you asked lowly, drying your eyes with an exhale.

Boothill looked up from his work, “Once, but not anymore.”

You hummed, staring into the bright flames before you. Sadness welled once more before you spoke up.

“I shot my oldest friend today. He asked me to, came to me pleading.”

There was no movement or sound, until he set down his tools. “And now you’re out on the road with me.”

The dried blood on your hand felt like a glove as you clenched your fist. “I suppose I am.”

He stood up, walking to his horse’s side. A blanket was in his hands as he returned, tossing it gently in your direction before sitting back down to carve.

“I might not be the best at comfort, but I’ll try.”

You placed the wool underneath your head. Neither of you had the makings of a proper camp yet, but even if it was a makeshift pillow it would work.

“When we were out on the trail, there wasn’t much for occupying your time. Most of it was spent herdin’ and fending off animals or gangs. We often had cards with us, and so we’d sit around a fire like this one at night, playin’ the boring games that didn’t involve gambling. When it was time to sleep, some of us would take our places closer to the cattle. We’d sing or hum to them to keep them calm – they always told me I had the best voice. One that suited folk like us the most.”

With that, he started to hum a tune. It was quiet, and the slicing of wood fell in time with the slow rhythm. The melody was soothing, and with a deep exhale you found yourself letting go. As your eyes drifted further shut, he started singing. They were right, he did have a voice perfect for the range.

—

“Thornton’ll be headin’ out for a while. Said we could use the room upstairs as usual.”

You hummed, buttoning up the fresh shirt the doctor had given you. The space stayed quiet after, as your gaze bore into the bloody knife resting on the cloth-covered table. You stood up carefully, gritting your teeth before you were upright.

Grabbing your hat and gun belt, you met Boothill at the doorway.

“How’re you doin’?” he asked gently, bringing his hand up to the side of your neck. His thumb rubbed along the edge of your jaw as you crossed your arms.

“Fine, still trying to work off the sting.”

“Well that’s better than nothin’, isn’t it?”

He was right, yet, there still was something tugging at your chest. A sensation that weighed on your breath.

“I apologize-”

“There ain’t nothing to apologize for.”

You sighed, “I just hope I haven’t been much of a burden these last few weeks.”

“I take care of you, and you take care of me. It’s that simple. There’ll always be trouble when you live a life like ours,” he chuckled, “I’ll never think less of you for it.”

—

“You've used a gun before, right?”

Boothill looked over at you, an eyebrow raised and a hand resting along his belt.

“Only once.”

“Well then, we're gonna work on your skills today.”

He walked back over to his horse, unclipping a holstered revolver from his equipment. A red and cream package of bullets were placed on his saddle. He gave the brown leather-clad weapon to you, letting you pull it out yourself and feel the cool weight in your palm.

“I wanna see your instinct first. Spot that rock up there?” he gestured toward a miniature cliffside, angling down toward the two of you. A large dark grey stone lay on its edge. “Aim for it and shoot.”

You analyzed the gun for a moment before raising it in both hands, the top of the barrel aligning with the rock. Pulling back the hammer from its half-cocked state, you heard a singular click. Pressing your index finger down on the trigger, a bullet flew from the barrel straight at the stone. It made an echoing crack before the case flung off to the side.

“Not bad. Do it again.”

You shifted your feet in the dirt before taking up your former stance. Aiming, you drew back the hammer as the chamber revolved. Two clicks sounded this time. With a finger on the trigger, you pulled it down to hear the same ringing shot and clack against rock.

Boothill sidled up next to you, bringing your left hand down to your side.

“Another.”

Now only using one hand, you shot once more. A small chip fell from the rock as you hit a second spot.

"Fall back into me a little bit."

"Why?"

"If you're gonna be an outlaw, you best learn to carry yourself like one."

You did as he said, falling back into a casual lean against his chest. His arm came up against the back of yours, carrying it down to your side before lifting it back up again and pointing the revolver at the rock. You brought the hammer back again, before pulling the trigger. You cocked the gun once more, firing another shot at the stone, followed by a third.

A low whistle came from behind you, “Aren’t you a natural?”

“Well, I’m learnin’ from the best.”

“Got that right.”

“Are you always this smug?”

“Only with you.”

“Somehow, I don’t believe that.” you stated, turning around from his hold.

“Really now?”

“You just love to keep on teasin’ me. That’s what it is.”

“And if so?” he questioned, stepping forward as if taking on a challenge.

“I’ll keep doing this dance with you, cowboy.” you tipped his hat down, watching his silver eyes disappear beneath the brim.

“I wouldn’t prefer it any other way.” he flicked it back up, a sharp smirk on his face.

“Now, why don’t you show me how the best shoots? I’d like to see what I’ll be competing with soon.” you stepped back from him, angling the gun toward the rocks.

“I said you were a natural, but I never said you were as practiced as me.”

“Talkin’ down to me?”

“Just statin’ facts.” he tilted his head, spinning his revolver from it’s holster along his leg.

“What a show-off you are.”

“Quit talkin’ and start aimin’.”

“You’re on.”

“See those deer?” Boothill whispered, watching beside you as a herd of coues passed by a few yards away.

The wind brushed against your cheeks, carrying the scent of coming rain in the twilight. There must have been water falling on nearby creosote bushes.

You stared on, admiring how sweet they looked roaming and feeding on cactus fruit.

He smiled at you, seeming almost wistful before his gaze returned to the scene. "I remember we used to see them a lot in the brush along the trail. Big herds stayed longer than just a few of them, less skittish together I suppose." He laughed lightly, genuine and lovely. "The first time I saw a buck was on my family's farm. I had just finished some harvesting, when its antlers caught my eye. The wheat was up to my elbows at the time – I still recall its itch. We had locked eyes, and from that day forward I felt called to be out like them. It was part of my motive for joinin' the round-ups."

"There's a freedom to it – one that you only dream of before you finally live it."

"So articulate. Maybe you should start doing all the talkin'."

You snickered, beginning to pack up your belongings from the small camp you learned to make. "I'm afraid I could never be a poet like you."

"With all this flattery, I just might be inspired enough to pursue that instead."

"I'd better get a dedication, right on the first page.”

"You’ll get the entire book, sugar." He smiled.

"Oh please, save it." You tugged down his hat to hide his teasing eyes.

—

PART III - The Revenant of Vengeance

The wet stone pathways of downtown Warren echoed the heels of your boots. There was little light behind the shops – few people too. It was the perfect spot for a short walk, one that could provide a break from the doctor’s incessant tinkering.

“Well, looky here.” Boothill murmured, pausing to look at a board of papers.

“Think I’ll be up there?” you questioned, hands in your pocket beside him.

“Oh, without a doubt.” his eyes roamed the posters before lighting up at a pair. “Right here, see.”

‘Reward’ was printed in large font at the top. The value of $2,000 sat above text that shared your name, followed by a photo of you from about six years ago, dressed professionally in a well-designed chair at the funeral parlor. Your name was added below it, and a description of your appearance. The signature of the sheriff was penned at the bottom, adding yet another county to your roster.

Boothill’s began the same, with the exception of a $3,500 bounty. An unflattering sketch took up most of the page, as well as key notes about him underneath.

“They can never get my eyes right.” he huffed, gaze lingering on the board.

“My picture isn’t even accurate anymore.” you voiced, arms now crossed against your chest. “What lousy lawmen they have here.”

“I’d have to agree.”

With a sigh you continued, “I reckon it’s about time we get back to the office. Before those lawmen spot us.”

“We could take them.”

“Maybe so, but we don’t need larger bounties.”

“Really? I think there’s somethin’ romantic about it. The more wanted you are, the larger the reward. The more opportunities for attention and infamy.”

“Is my attention not good enough?”

“Come on now, sugar, you know I love it more than anything else.”

“Well then head back with me, cowboy, and I’ll show you some.”

He chuckled lowly, “Who could turn down an offer like that?"

As you turned to walk, his hand landed on your shoulder, the other reaching up to the board, ripping off one of the posters.

“Well I'll be.” you mumbled, observing the photo on it from over his arm.

Lloyd Walker, wanted dead or alive with a reward of $5,000. He had practically become public enemy number one in the surrounding areas over the last seven years. He had numerous crimes, and as many tricks up his sleeve to match. At least that's what the rumors said – his gang was only ever unruly.

“What do you say? Is he gonna be our newest target?”

A fire grew in Boothill’s formerly somber eyes, as he turned to you with a smile.

“Absolutely.”

—

The damp and pebble-covered ground was tarnished with deep red, the remnants of injury seeping into the soil beneath a discarded body. It was windless as Jesse laid against the riverbank, staring up into the ray-stricken cloudy sky. Low cries for help continued leaving his bloodied lips, but his energy was wearing thin. Every inch of him ached – stinging or burning the only sensations he could feel.

Still, he couldn’t just lay here and accept death. He was far too stubborn to ever answer a reaper’s call.

And, as if by some little twist of fate, hooves clamped their way toward him until rushing footsteps were the only thing he could hear.

“Good lord, sir, what happened to you?”

It was an ambush, plain and simple.

One moment he was talking with the other rangers and the next they were hiding behind rocks or trees, shooting at whatever green bandana they saw. One or two bandits weren’t unusual, but they had never dealt with such a large group before.

He was panicking, running out of bullets and watching his friends fall in the dust. They were overwhelmed with little to no chance of making it out unscathed.

Walker’s people were relentless, though, and they would never leave until they got what they came for or hit the dirt.

How unlucky for them that Jesse was the same.

Dilapidated cabins were built together in two rows, some of their group’s stolen cattle grazing off to the side. His horse stopped right at the rotting wood enclosing them, head high as he prepared for revenge. They had killed four of his trailmates, and he would be coming now for at least four of them.

It was bold to break the rules set for round-ups, and Lee’s warnings echoed through his head. There was leniency given to him before, and for this cause, he was sure he’d get it again.

After dismounting, he made his way through the brush to one of the cabins, two revolvers in hand. It was a risky game, but he was willing to play – whether it was the facade of victory or delusion from righteousness keeping him going.

He snuck through the makeshift settlement, hearing bits of laughter from his left. No matter what he did after this, he would have all surrounding eyes on him. Treading lightly, he stalked behind the house until he found a decent opening. He aimed through the cracks in the dark wood, going straight for the heads he could target. With four clicks, both guns were fully cocked and he shot.

It would be the only regret he had in his life.

“Time to wake up, my friend.”

An oddly chipper voice reached Jesse’s ears, as if summoning him from a lengthy slumber.

His eyes drifted open, leaving him to feel painless yet confused.

“I’m sure there is much you would like to know, but please, try to become used to this body first.”

This body?

“We’ll need to utilize some methods of physical therapy to ensure that you know how to use it, and that everything is in working order.”

He turned his head in the direction of the voice – a movement that felt unexpectedly stiff.

“You may call me Dr. Thornton, or Claude if you’d prefer. You have been reborn in the city of Warren. Do you remember where that is?”

Reborn?

“Yes, doctor, I do.” his voice hadn’t changed, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss.

“Wonderful. Do you recall the events that led you here?”

“That is perfectly fine, sir. I found you there, and brought you back to my practice. Well, my unofficial practice I suppose one could call it. What about your name?”

“I was bleedin’ out by a river, before… well I’d prefer not to talk about that part.”

“Jesse Blackwell.” he responded, without any hesitation.

Thornton stood up, drying off his greased hands on a nearby rag. He brought the same towel to Jesse’s neck, but he couldn't feel it. The mild brush of cloth, a sensation he had known well from cleaning himself up, never came. He began to tilt his head downward, but the doctor’s fingers caught his chin.

“Not yet.”

He shifted his chin back up, staring straight ahead as alarm started setting in. Questions plagued his mind, until a sharp snap from behind broke him out of it.

The doctor held his hands out to him, and he placed his own over his open palms. They were grey, metallic, and the more he looked at them, the more they seemed almost mechanical. His thoughts seized him as he found Thornton’s eyes. They seemed proud yet there was a glint hidden under their pine-like color that brought a pensive look to Jesse’s face.

He was guided to take a step, and he heard what sounded like a boot as he did so. It persisted as he was brought across the floor to a doorway, passing into another room. His hands left the doctor’s, falling back to his side as his gaze drifted up to something covered in a white sheet.

“Are you ready to welcome this new life?” Thornton asked.

After a brief moment, Jesse nodded.

The cloth was lifted to reveal a tall mirror, one that reflected every inch of him.

“If there is anything you would like me to change, you need only say the word.”

Silence fell, as Jesse was confronted with rushing realization.

He survived Lloyd Walker, but at what cost? His humanity?

But what constitutes humanity?

Flesh and blood?

The ability to experience empathy and emotion?

His bewildered eyes met the doctor’s – ones that were steady as stone.

Thornton looked into the mirror from beside him. “You are a marvel of human craft, sir.”

Something in him stirred at the words, an anger that he wasn’t well-versed enough to place. The only thing he could do was grab the doctor’s collar, observing him with contempt.

“Come now, Jesse, you best be grateful. I’ve transformed you. You’ve become something that people could only dream of. You cried for help and I gave it to you.”

The doctor stumbled after he was released, moving back into the office, or whatever he liked to call it. Jesse remained in the small room, inspecting himself in the mirror. He stared for a long while, paralyzed by the overwhelming circumstance. He felt violated, like his very being was invaded.

Was his life even his anymore?

No. He couldn’t sink into that void.

“You’ve surpassed my expectations, Jesse. Count yourself free to go, though you’re always welcome back for repairs… or a hideout if you find yourself in trouble.”

Clad in monochrome leather, with a few scattered hints of red, the reborn cowboy placed his hat on his head as he opened the front door to Thornton’s establishment.

“My name ain’t Jesse.” he voiced, looking back at the suited man. “It’s Boothill.”

The doctor met his eyes over his glasses, “Farewell then, Boothill.”

—

A disheveled Claude Thornton broke through the spare room’s door, appearing wild and bruised.

“They’re on their way.”

Any plans you had been discussing with Boothill were interrupted as you watched the panicked man sharply. “Who exactly?”

“I think you already know." he said, sitting down on the side of the bed.

"You goddamn idiot."

"They cornered and beat me! What did you expect me to do?"

"Follow our agreement that we could lie low here." Boothill stated, glaring at the doctor as he reloaded his revolver.

"I had only made that agreement with you, friend, not them.” he replied, gesturing a hand toward you. “Regardless, the law knows by now that wherever one of you goes the other will follow.”

“And this time you’ll be with us.” you sighed, lifting your hand for him to stand up.

Grabbing the man’s right arm, you brought it behind his back, placing your other hand on his left shoulder. Guiding him down the stairs as Boothill followed, you walked to the hitches Thornton had built at his rear door.

Whistles came down the alley as you ordered him to sit on the back of your horse. After he finished grumbling, you mounted and began riding off to the left as Boothill went right.

Handing him a spare rifle from your horse, you pulled two revolvers from your gun belt.

“I apologize, but I do not know how to use one of these.” he shared, holding the weapon awkwardly.

“You’re hopeless, doctor.”

Trading with him, you aimed the rifle at one of the lawmen approaching you.

“Just pull down the hammer and shoot at them until the chambers are empty. Don’t bother reloading, we’ll be out of here by then.”

He nodded before turning his head back, covering the rear as you winded down stone streets, doing your best to avoid bringing citizens into the fray. You caught a glimpse of black and white disappearing around a corner – a road that led to the train tracks from what you could recall. Pulling the reins to the right, you moved to follow, shooting at one of his pursuers before dodging the fallen body.

Droplets flicked against your boots, leading the doctor to groan at his dirtied shoes. Broken glass nearby signified it was probably some discarded liquor.

A horn sounded from your right, accelerating the rushing sound in your ears. One of Thornton’s hands gripped onto your shoulder tightly as you sped up, crossing before the train daringly.

Pausing on the other side of the tracks, you watched cautiously for any other lawmen. Boothill came up next to you, eyes analyzing your figure before they followed your gaze.

“I swear the two of you are going to get me killed.”

“You’ll be lucky if I don’t do it myself after the shit you’ve pulled.” you spat, securing your rifle back against your horse.

“Need I remind you I had no other choice.” he retorted, handing you back the revolvers.

“You sold us out after three hits, doctor, that’s something that would get you a hole in your forehead with anyone else.”

“I only told them where you were, dear, not him.”

You pointed one of the guns behind you against the side of his skull, disregarding if it was empty or not.

“Do you think that’s somethin’ you should really be saying to me? For as much tinkering as you do, and as many people as you claim to help, I don’t think you’re very bright. If you were, you wouldn’t have given us up, and you would watch your mouth when you’re talkin’ to me. Now, tell me you can understand that at least, doctor.”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now you best stay quiet.”

“Alright.”

Putting the gun back into its holster at your side, your focus returned to Boothill.

“Are we still going north?”

“I don’t see why not.” he replied, shifting slightly in his saddle.

“Then let’s go – this train is almost over.”

—

The town of Iris Creek was quaint, fresh air gliding over land of dying grass. A few small flowers grew along the trails, blossoms of deep violet running up their stems. Your stresses slowly quelled as the peaceful atmosphere set in.

At least until you had to sort out Thornton's situation.

Boothill had left for the saloon not long ago, attempting to find what information about Walker he could. In his absence, you would be taking the well-dressed man to the hotel.

Getting the room was a simple affair, so was the walk to where he would stay. It seemed odd that you received no second glances, but it was a welcome change.

Entering his room, the doctor finally spoke, "What do you think of him?"

"Pardon?"

"Boothill."

He sat in a chair right before a plain wooden desk, crossing one leg over the other.

"I care for him very deeply, but I think you could figure that out already. ”

"Would seeing him in pain hurt you, then?"

"What exactly are you trying to say, Thornton?"

"Nothing at all, just conjecture." He responded, hands coming up defensively before returning to his lap.

"I still have half a mind to kill you."

"Always so crude with me," he shook his head, "If you do decide to murder me, you might as well do the same to Boothill. Nobody else in this world understands his inner workings like I do. If I'm dead, there will be no one left to repair him if something goes awry. He's already tried before himself and landed at the same conclusion."

In the dim lighting of your shared room, your fingers carded through Boothill's newly cleaned hair. The noise from the saloon below reverberated upward, but it faded into nothing as warm lips found your neck.

"What did you find?" you questioned, quiet in the tranquility of the moment.

"There's supposed to be a whole bunch of Walker's a bit further up in the mountains. By Whitetail Hill."

"Well, that's good. Leave at dawn and we could make it there by early afternoon."

"My thoughts exactly."

A group of cheers from below filled the silence. Sharp edges nipped at the same spot of your neck, drawing a short wince from you. It was soothed by a soft tongue licking across the area as cool fingertips traced the other side of your neck.

You began to turn your head in his direction before those same fingers brought your chin down. Rough lips met yours in a rare instance of gentleness, something that reminded you of calm before a storm.

—

PART IV - Death, the Range's Old Friend

Dust kicked up from underneath the gravel path as you brought your horses to an abrupt stop. A figure rest in the middle of the road, bloodied claw marks running down their front. They coughed, red splattering back against their cheeks.

“Mercy… mercy, please.”

A scarlet covered bandana slipped from their pocket, bits of green peeking out from beneath. You cocked your gun at them before speaking.

“I’ll grant you your wish after you answer some questions. Deal?”

“Yes, yes.”

“You were coming from the area of Whitetail Hill, correct?”

They nodded weakly.

“Where specifically?” Boothill asked, looking around the surrounding forest – likely watching for the animal that attacked them.

“Copperhead Mine.”

A breeze blew through the trees, carrying an odd and empty whistle. A bang interrupted the cryptic melody as the Walker’s plea was granted. The slow movement of hooves followed shortly after, as you maneuvered around them.

“What do you think we’re headed into?” you wondered, meeting Boothill’s eyes.

“Nothin’ good, I can tell you that much.”

“How many’ll be there?”

“I can’t say. The bartender said upwards of 20.”

“Will we be able to take them?” you picked up the pace, looking over the small cliff to your left.

“After all this time, you still doubt us.” he chuckled, matching your speed.

“It’s better to stay realistic.”

“You have me with you, anything we do is realistic.”

You sighed, as the clouds drifted across the blue noon sky. “I suppose I just want you to look after yourself more.”

He waited an instant before responding, features full of sincerity. “I know you care about me, more than I had ever thought I would receive. But I’m not going anywhere – there’s nothin’ in this world that could kill me anymore.”

—

The ominous tune of the wind persisted, some symphony of nature that could only serve to unnerve you. A shiver went down your spine as you reached a viewpoint of the mine, a chill seeping in beneath your clothes. Dismounting, you pat the neck of your horse, trying to steel yourself before the confrontation.

You nodded at Boothill, before leaving first down to the camp. Dry grass crackled under your steps, before the crunch of gravel came instead. The sound alerted who you assumed to be the leader of the group, a scarred eye looking over you in suspicion before he spoke.

“What the hell are you doin’ out here?”

“I was in Iris Creek yesterday, askin’ around about any jobs. They said you’d need some more hands out here.”

“Really now? Who exactly told you that?”

“The bartender at the saloon.”

“Which saloon?”

“There’s only one in town, friend.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Quite so.”

He glanced back at a set of boxes, before making eye contact with one of the members. You drew your revolvers, shooting at two of the people before ducking behind a pair of barrels. Boothill emerged from behind one of their tents, blood already coating his cheek.

He was always brash in his ways, usually coming in guns blazing unless the plan said otherwise. Even then, there was no safe bet that he would follow it. Today was a lucky day, you supposed.

Splinters of wood broke off in your direction, falling over the edge of your arm and over a dark red stain you had yet to notice. Aiming around the side, you fired at one's eyes and another's cheek from where they hid. A second pair hit two plainly in the head, one of their bullets going astray into the rock by the mine entrance.

A strong grip wrapped around your ankle, pulling you backward through twig-like bushes. You were met with the same scarred left eye when the dust cleared – a gaze that spoke murder pinning you down. A fist met the side of your face, brute pain emerging afterward. He went again but was met with your right arm. He tried your left side, and you let him get a hit in as you cautiously unsheathed your knife. With a block to another hit, you slashed your knife across his chest. It was the easiest thing to do in this position, and he backed off of you slightly to stare down at the scarlet seeping into the edges of his cut shirt.

A tight hold turned him over, leaving you above him. The sharp tip of the knife pointed right under his chin as you started your interrogation.

“Where’s Lloyd?”

“I ain’t tellin’ you shit.” he spat.

Taking the blade, you punctured along the edge of his right eye. He screamed as crude fluid bursted against your sleeves, running down the side of his face as you twisted it.

“I’m not fuckin’ around with you! Where is Lloyd Walker?”

“In- in Thatcher!”

“That’s it? You sure there ain’t anything else you want to tell me?” you questioned, drawing the knife from his eye. Another scream came before the tip of the blade returned to his chin, dragging down to his sternum.

“He’s hidin’ out with somebody. They’re in bed together, doing some real shady business. Patrick Arrington – that’s the guy you want to meet with! He’s in the oil business, and real paranoid to boot.”

“Any tips you want to share before I’m finished with you?”

He licked his lips, panicked and steadily bleeding. “Find Ef. I… I met her at a theater once. She loves it there, lights up the minute the curtain rises.”

“Does she have a full name?”

“I don’t know it.”

“Fine, then. Keep your secrets.”

“I’m not lyin’! She never told me!”

“Doesn’t matter anymore.”

The blade plunged in his throat forcibly, the near frightening sensation of shattering bone reverberating to the hilt of the knife. A dry wheeze left his lips as you stood up, pulling the weapon back out.

A low whistle, one that you could recall anywhere by now, came from behind you. Boothill walked up, looking down at the body.

“Did you get anythin’ out of him?”

“Plenty. What do you think of a trip to the capital?”

He smiled, sharp with excitement and thrill. “Sounds like a lovely time to me.”

—

PART V - Ballad of the Dead and Alive

It had been years since you last set foot in Thatcher. The city had become strikingly more commercialized, with a shop, service, or office on every corner. Your boots had been left behind at the hotel room, exchanged earlier after a trip to the tailor’s for something more formal.

Wood doors with decorated glass opened as you walked into the lobby, Boothill following behind.

“Tickets for two, please.” you smiled, leaning against the front counter.

“Door to your left.” the taker replied, sliding the slips underneath the barricade.

With a tip of his new hat, Boothill thanked them before heading through to the hallway. It was plain black, something simple yet classy per recommendation of the tailor. He had outright refused their first suggestion of a top hat – slight disgust on his face as he said that would never be his style.

“Guess I finally got that theater date.” he chuckled, opening the double doors to reveal a lit stage.

“I suppose you did.” you replied, taking his hand and going to find your seats.

A narrator stood in front of the curtain, reciting the introduction to a play. Now sitting in the second row, you and Boothill waited patiently for the show to begin.

“‘Do not plague thyself with vexatious matters. Live unshackled and wander from this day forth.’ Thus, did the young Lady Rena commence her journey.”

A beautiful woman walked out to center stage, clothed in a green silk dress. A wide-brimmed hat of the same color rested on her head, feathers rising from the right side that were held under a silk brim. Lavender sprigs and violets emerged from the left, wrapping around to sit delicately on the front.

A gasp came from your right, bringing your gaze away from the show. Brown hair, pinned and curled, came into view before an apologetic expression.

“I’m sorry, I just love to see how the characters dress.”

“It’s alright, you didn’t bother me at all.”

“Oh, well I’m glad.” she smiled, then looked back to the stage.

As the play continued on, your gaze bounced between the actors and the spectator next to you. She seemed to beam at the performance, her eyes watching every detail closely even if she noticed your attention on her. It wasn’t until the brief break before the climax that she turned back to you.

She didn’t say a word for a minute or two, simply looking over your features.

“Have you ever thought about acting?”

“It’s never crossed my mind before.”

“It just seems like you have a knack for it.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I can’t really say, it’s just a feeling. I have a… friend that reminds me of you. She’s been up on the stage there all night. She acts so well, and you can tell she really loves it despite her always telling me it’s just a job.”

“And what about you?”

She paused, seeming to briefly sink into herself. “Can I trust you with a little secret?”

“Of course.”

She smiled smally, “I actually wrote this play. When my work day was over, I’d go up to my room and spend a couple hours jotting it all down. My boss is a miserable man – it’s a pleasant break from him.”

“I’m sure it’s lovely to see it brought to life, then.”

“It’s my biggest achievement so far, and nobody besides you knows the truth behind it.” Sincerity took over her face, a beat passing between you before she spoke. “So, it’s only fair that you share your truth with me. Who are the two of you?”

A hand came to rest on your shoulder as the other was held out across your front, waiting for a shake.

“You can call me Boothill, Ef.”

Her face looked surprised, as if she had possibly seen him somewhere.

“We were preparing to do business with your boss, Patrick Arrington, correct?” he continued.

“Yes.” she replied curtly. “He’s been having me carry around something for you as a matter of fact.”

She placed an envelope in Boothill’s open hand. He turned it over between his fingers, taking a moment to look at the wax seal. With a quick rip, it opened, revealing tight cursive on the parchment. It was an invitation to a dinner in two nights time. Arrington’s signature sprawled over the bottom half of the paper, bold in comparison to his previous handwriting. He spoke of knowing Boothill was in town, likely trying to seek him out. Instead, he wanted them to meet and have a discussion over steak. He also extended the invite to you, his “hell-raising partner”.

If Arrington and Walker wanted a confrontation, they would get it.

“I hope the two of you will entertain his offer. Let us enjoy the rest of my play, though. We can be friends for this evening at the very least.”

—

Patrick Arrington's house reflected his wealth. Dark colors were covered by intricate wood detailings, highlighted well with lamps. The butler guided you and Boothill into the dining room, revealing a lengthy table covered in candles and plates. The men of the hour waited patiently, Patrick at the head of the table with a glass of wine and Lloyd to his right, a lit cigarette resting between his lips as he inspected the utensils.

They weren't very intimidating to say the least.

"Glad you could join us," Lloyd welcomed, a silver steak knife twirling around in his hand. "I've been waitin' to see you again for years, been pretty boring without your games." He pointed said knife at Boothill.

Patrick's weathered eyes met yours as he gestured for you to sit at his left. You strode to the cushioned chair, a foreboding sense creeping in as you pulled it out.

"You can take the seat opposite to me, Mr. Blackwell."

His features appeared defiant before you glared at him. It would be best to follow his commands. A sharp exhale left him as he sat down, leaning casually.

A new butler came in, wine bottle in hand. He poured for the two of you before being dismissed.

Swirling his topped up glass, Patrick leveled his gaze onto Boothill. "I want to make you an offer."

"Ain't that the nature of business." he chuckled.

“Indeed.”

Seared steaks made their way onto the table as Arrington shared his proposal.

“You may take Walker’s life, so long as I take theirs.”

“Pardon?”

“You heard him, boy.”

The room remained tense as your hands froze, a slight cut staying in the meat at your idleness.

“I’m willin’ to… succumb to your revenge,” Lloyd waved his hands around dramatically, “Let you claim my bounty – just after someone is exchanged for me.”

“You think I would ever agree to that?”

“Well, let’s just say it is not so much an agreement as it would be a reward.” Patrick smiled, placing his fork on a cloth gently.

A line of cold steel rested against your throat. You set down your silverware, raising your hands and leaning back.

“I didn’t do nothin’ to you, Mr. Arrington.” you reasoned.

“Maybe not in your eyes. A debt is owed to me, however, and it must be repaid. Your father stole my weapons, robbed my men, and ruined my oil! He was scum, and it seems you are too.”

“Any issues you had with him aren't my problem.”

“The knife to your throat begs otherwise, dear.”

“You started this.”

“No, I did not. Your friend here began his feud with Mr. Walker years ago. That is the true reason why the both of you are here tonight. I am simply ending a personal matter at the same time.”

“What’ll it be, Jesse?” Lloyd asked, an excited smile growing on his face.

You met Boothill’s stare, watching the gears turn in his mind. His gaze drifted upward, past yours and to the person behind you. Their grip tightened on the hilt.

“I’m gonna have to decline.”

Walker laughed as Arrington’s face went stoic.

“So be it.” a familiar voice spoke.

The knife formerly held to your neck flew into Patrick’s right shoulder. With the room still surprised, you flipped the dining table with help from your near-executioner. Plates clattered onto the floor surrounding Lloyd, the candles beginning to eat away at the rug.

“Where do you think you’re going, you piece of shit!”

You watched, revolver in hand, as Ef strode angrily to an escaping Patrick. He gripped his shoulder, walking out and down the hall as fast as he could. She followed suit, chasing and pinning him down easily. The click of your dress shoes echoed over the wood floor as you came behind her, witnessing her tackle him to the ground before pulling the knife from him. She threw it to the side, choosing to instead beat him as hard as she could while curses fell from her tinted lips. You leaned back against the wall, toying with the chamber of your gun. You watched as it spun, just one bullet sat inside.

With a huff, Ef rose from Patrick’s bloodied body, scarlet covering her teal dress.

“Do with him as you please. I’ve had enough of him for eternity.”

She then turned down the hall, the sound of ascending steps coming shortly after.

You came to stand right next to Arrington’s head, pressing your left heel down on his shoulder. He groaned, trying to twist out of the situation.

“I have a special hatred for rich filth like you.”

Two clicks of the hammer – a blank.

“Always walking around like you own the place.”

Another blank.

“Throwing money at everything you can – money that you made from stealing what belongs to others.”

Blank.

“And you’re so much better than me? Look at what you’re doing right now.” he whispered out, eyes growing unfocussed.

“We might be bad people, but at least we’re honest. I think liars like you will suffer a worse fate than us. You’ve got no honor, no respect, left in you. Sold it all away for what? So you could feel some power? Some control? We all die the same, Patrick. This wealth’ll mean nothin’ in the end. Keeping it all to yourself only makes people resent you more. We struggle everyday, only ever dreaming of what you have and take for granted everyday. You deserve nothing that you have in this world if all you do is abuse it. Save whatever dignity you have left for hell, Arrington. You’re gonna need it.”

A shot fired as his mouth opened, leaving red to splatter out from the proximity. You leaned down, taking his pocket watch and dangling it in front of you. It was gold, polished, and engraved – an item that could fetch a high price. You shoved it in your own pocket as you left his body, searching for the stairs Ef had gone up.

Flames caught on the curtains as Boothill waited in a standoff with Lloyd. Neither uttered a word as they waited, staring each other down. Crackles came from the walls, the flames illuminating the space with harsh glares. Walker drew his old pistol, aiming quickly and preparing to fire. Blood flowed from his arm not a second later, three shots ringing out in the burning dining room.

A swift kick crossed his face a moment later, something sharp cutting down it. Despite his pain and lack of clear vision, he took one of the scalding candlesticks and threw it in front of him. His hand came to hold his face, sighing.

“If you want to kill me Jesse, do it already.”

The cold barrel of a gun met the back of his neck, one click reaching his ears.

“Givin’ up that easily! Really now?”

“I’d rather die than try and make it out of here.”

A set of curtain rods fell to the floor before Boothill spoke, “ I’m gonna take my time with you, then. See if you can handle what you put me through.”

Whistles sounded through the courtyard as lawmen slowly encroached the property. A pair of satchels rested full over your shoulder, one similar sitting on Effie’s horse. They were bulked with stolen bonds, jewels, and anything else you could get your hands on.

“I suppose this is farewell.” she exhaled.

“For now, at least. If you’re going down a road like ours, I think we’ll cross paths again.”

“I hope so.”

“Go be with your friend.” you smiled, winking and patting her horse as she mounted it. “And thank you for the help. This wouldn’t have worked out if it weren’t for your decision.”

“You flatter me. But you’re welcome anyway.”

She pulled a poppy from her hat, handing it down to you. With exchanged nods, she rode off around the back, leaving you to the steps of Patrick’s burning house.

The front door burst open as Boothill kicked at it, stepping out as smoke started billowing from the building. You had every confidence in his capabilities, but you still found yourself in his arms. Crimson stained his cheeks, seeping into your palms as you brought his face closer to your view.

“How are you?”

“A little worse for wear, but if you kiss me, I just might be alright.”

“That can wait, cowboy. For now, we’d best get out of here.”

—

Epilogue

The sun beamed down brightly, casting a hazy glow over the river. Morning light was always lovely at times like this, and the sound of rushing water provided a welcome sense of relief. A soft breeze blew through the tree branches above you, ruffling the papers in Boothill's hands as well.

His head rested on your thighs, leaning back and reading them over with a smile. A sketch replaced your photo now, headed by text that read: “Reward for the capture, dead or alive, of __ __. The murderer of Patrick Arrington, they are still at large in Kearny County.”

“Look who made it big.” he chuckled.

“Think they’ll have a stage ready for me next time we visit?”

“If that stage is the gallows, then I’m sure.”

You laughed, leaning back against rough bark.

“Meanwhile I only got an extra $500! Can’t believe those lovely lawmen.” he grumbled, ripping them in half.

You brushed your palm over his forehead, shifting his hair back.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Fingertips brushed down his cheek, before curling under his jaw and tilting his head in your direction. Silver and red eyes met yours, simmering down to a rare gentleness. He stared at you for a moment, no vibrant expression or words leaving him. Peaceful – that’s what he was.

“Where do you want to go next?” you asked, thumb tracing along his cheekbone.

“I think we’ll just keep ridin’, stop where we want and see where the trail ends.”

“Take some jobs here and there, try to make some money.”

“Sounds nice.”

You hummed as Boothill turned his head back to the river, sighing toward the low reeds.

“Would you ever want to have a farm again?”

He rested quietly before replying, “No, but I wouldn’t be against working on one every now and then.”

“You’ll have to show me the ropes, though.”

“Course. There’s plenty more I could show you too.”

“Like?”

“Anythin’ you can imagine.”

“What a magician you are.”

“You flatter me, sugar.”

“Gettin’ a little shy on me, are you?”

“Not at all.”

He leaned up on his right hand, the left coming to the side of your neck. Slightly rough lips met yours challengingly, as if lovingly proving a point. Cold metal was removed from your neck, fingertips running along your throat teasingly before coming up to tug down the hat on your head.

“Stealin’ my moves now, cowboy?”

“You learned them from me first.” he chuckled, “Just one of our many games, right?”

#coff writes for hsr 🍾#hsr #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #hsr au #hsr fanfic #hsr boothill #honkai star rail boothill #hsr boothill x reader

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deceitfuldevout · 1 year ago

Text

Struggle

Soft!Dark!Neil Lewis x BestFriend!Reader

Word Count: +1,857

Warning(s): +18, Non con, Misogynistic remarks, Manhandling, Play fighting gone wrong.

Author's Note(s): I was inspired by a soundgasm audio

You and Neil were childhood bestfriends. As thick as thieves. He had been there for you since day one. You grew up in the same neighborhood, went to the same schools, and eventually became co-owners of gumshoe movie store. Neil was always the one who wiped away your tears. He was your shoulder to cry on after a nasty breakup. One of the perks of living with your best friend are movie nights. You and Neil would pick out some movies to share.

He knows you love them as much as he does. His was up first, then yours would be after. You would switch the order every weekend. Neil's choice was alright, it was one of those old western movies. You on the other hand picked something newer. One of those action movies with a powerhouse female lead. You thought it was going well. That is until Neil scoffs, you turn to the side and look at him, "What's wrong? You don't like it?"

"No it's just...do you really think she could take them all down in hand-to-hand combat?" out of everything the movie had, that was his biggest concern? Your brows furrow, "Are you saying you could take her on?" now sitting up. Neil tilts his head, "Well, I mean yeah? She's a twig, it'd be hard not to win," he's dead serious about it too. You don't take his remarks seriously. It's not like he meant it, right?

That's when you felt the need to speak up, "Neil it's just a movie, and besides, size doesn't matter in a fight," when you turn your attention back to the screen Neil looks away, "Size doesn't matter?" he's taken aback. He pauses the movie, "Let me get this straight: You're confident that size doesn't matter?" he wants to test this hypothesis out, "Because I'm a lot stronger than you," it's not that Neil thinks he is, it's that he knows so, "I don't mean to sound insensitive but, there's also a biological factor,"

You turn towards Neil and raise a brow, "You're that confident you'll win?" previously, you've won the last several fights against him. But then again, you were both nine years old. He nears, "I bet I could pin you down in less than ten seconds," he wants to test out that theory. So, You decide to test it out, getting into position, "Three...two...one-" but before you've had a chance to even find solid grounding, Neil already has you pinned to the couch.

It stuns you, for a moment you were left in disbelief. How did he? When did he? It was so fast you hadn't even seen it coming. You try lifting yourself up but Neil shoves you down with a light 'thud'. When you try to sit, he does it again, only harder. This was nothing to him. He didn't even seem tired. For a moment you question yourself. Had Neil been holding back the entire time? It was almost surprising how strong he was. "C'mon...fight back, I said fight back..." Neil hovers over you. Both of his legs now straddling your sides.

He manages to trap both your wrists together in one of his hands. You try to pulling them free but his grip is unbreakable. You've never noticed how strong he actually was. Sure, he'd let you sit on his shoulders during concerts, or even lift you up in a hug, but this was the first time you've really noticed his concentrated strength. It took little to no effort pinning you down. He leans in, now face-to-face, "Do you give up?" he taunts, "Just admit that I'm stronger than you...there's no use fighting it..."

You didn't want to lose that easily. You kept twisting and turning in an attempt to escape. It was futile. Neil had won fair and square. His hands began to roam under your shirt, playfully caressing your rib cage. He brushes his fingers against the bare skin. You couldn't help but giggle at the ticklish feeling, "O-ok ok! You win!" a burst of laughter erupts from you. After a moment, Neil finally stops. He takes in the sight of you, staring at the peaks forming on both breasts. He licks his lips, ducking his head down. He places a few kisses on your jawline, then down the side of your neck, all the way to your shoulder.

They quickly turn into wet kisses, then suckling. It felt ticklish. Neil had always been overly handsy around you. Even sharing a first kiss in grade school. His hands grip your hips in a tight grasp. You grab his wrists and start to pull, but it was like trying to move metal bars. His brows furrow, obviously annoyed now. He pulls both your arms above your head before tugging at your shirt. It didn't take much for him to drag it up. He knows you detest wearing a bra indoors. He doesn't mind that at all.

You gasp, "Neil! What the hell?! S-stop!" At that moment you did something you never thought would happen. Never in a million years would you have imagined putting your hands on him. You slap Neil across the face. His hair falls down to his forehead. There's a visible red mark on his cheek. His jaw clenches. For the first time ever, Neil Lewis is at a loss for words. You scramble to the other side of the couch, attempting to fix your disheveled clothes. You look back at your best friend in disbelief.

His pupils are blown with lust. His cheeks are a flushed pink as he darts his tongue out to lick his lips, "Let's make a bet, if you can break free, I'll let you go," he captures your ankle, pulling you across the couch towards him, "But if I manage to keep you pinned..." he cups your mound, digging his finger into the slit, "I get to tryout this pussy..." he's dead serious too.

You couldn't believe it. This isn't him. This isn't the same Neil who would comfort you after a nasty breakup. Or be the first one to wipe away those tears away whenever someone tried to hurt you. This wasn't just anyone saying it, this was your best friend. He may have a reputation of being a notorious prankster, but this was taking it too far. You start tearing up, "Neil, you're scaring me..."

He snickers, playfully swiping at your tears with his tongue, "C'mon, keep fighting," he shook your shoulders, "Fight back if you don't want it," his expression changes. It contorts into a snarl as he starts tugging at the fabric of your clothes. You try to fight him off. Neil grins with delight. This was all a game to him.

It was entertaining to Neil, watching your feeble attempt to stop him. He rubs his hard on against your mound, bucking his hips a few times with a moan, "Yeah keep struggling, no matter what you do...I'm bigger than you...stronger than you..." he juts his hips again, only harder this time, "Fuck you have no idea how much this is turning me on..." his voice is much deeper. There's just something about the thrill of it that turns him on. No matter how much you twist and turn, or how hard you try, it was nothing compared to his strength.

Neil may be on the leaner side but he could manage in a fight. His free hand reaches under the waistband of your panties. He lets out a gasp, "Oh fuck..." rubbing his digits up and down your slit to collect any slickness. He yanks down the fabric with ease, taking in the sight of your folds. Neil moans, "Already so wet, yet I haven't even touched you" he clicks his tongue, inspecting your now glistening folds. His eyelids are hooded as he examines the slickness sticking to his fingers, "My, my, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you wanted this..."

Neil lowers his head to your mound. He whispers, "Lemme just..." he flattens his tongue against your core. He gives a long stripe from your leaking hole to your clit, wrapping his lips around it with a moan, "Mmm..." his eyes are blissfully shut. His lashes flutter with pleasure as his brows furrow in delight. Fuck...you taste so good. Everything about you is so fucking perfect. Neil never saw a flaw in you. All those ex's were dumb as shit for dumping you. But no worries, he's here to make up for it.

His fingers slide in with little to no resistance. He began to pump them vigorously in and out your channel. Your toes began to curl from the angel he hit, throwing back your head in pleasure. Neil releases your clit for only a moment, "Fuck...you're enjoying me using you huh?" he teases, then returns to tasting you. He adds more pressure to that sweet, spongey spot inside.

You came, hard. A gush of arousal hits Neil's face as he sucks in your bud. He's having the time of his life, moaning through your climax. He parts, now licking his lips, "Who knew you were such a slut?" he chuckles. His cock twitches at the sight of your tuckered-out form. He's eager to finish what he's started.

Neil frantically unbuckles his belt. He lets his pants slide off, reaching into his boxers to pull out his semi-hard cock. He gives it a few tugs before aiming the leaking tip at your entrance. Neil had never been more desperate in his life to feel a woman. He's only ever imagined this moment while lying in bed late at night. But now? He's not going to waste another second. He buries his cock deep inside, muffling his moans into your shoulder, "M'yeah...just stay still and be my cocksleeve, yeah?" Neil thrusts his hips at a more rapid pace.

You could hear him choke out, "Fuck...fuck...fuck..fuck!" Neil was right. He is too strong. All you could do was lay there as he took what he wanted, staring blankly at the ceiling as he chases his high. He suckles and kisses against your skin to mark what was his. He sighs, "So good...so good for me..." he playfully licks against your mouth, parting your lips with his tongue. His hands held your head in place as he dips it inside.

After he's finishes inside Neil doesn't let you go, no. Instead he manhandles you onto his lap. You're still pierced by his cock. You could practically feel it still twitching inside. Neil catches his breath, he has an arm wrapped around your waist. He leans back against the sofa, pulling you in with him. He reaches for the remote to play the movie. Unbothered by what just happened. You're splayed across his chest with your shirt still on.

Every now and then Neil lazily juts his hips up just to feel you gripping him. He rubs small circles on your lower back, reaching down to squeeze your ass. He doesn't look away from the T.V., not even after he hears you sniffling. You choke out, "I-I hate you..." those words don't bother him. He knows you can get a little emotional and doesn't think too much of it. He places a kiss on your temple, "No you don't," he's sure of it.

#dark!neil lewis #dark!neil lewis x reader #reader #reader insert #dark!fic #dark!fanfic #dark!fanfiction #dark!smut #neil lewis x reader #dark!neil lewis x you #neil lewis #neil lewis x you #fab!reader #afab!reader #fem!reader #my work #my works #cillian murphy character #cillian murphy smut

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holylulusworld · 1 year ago

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Blaze of glory - Kinktober 7

Summary: You’re glad to be alive.

Summary: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: near-death experience, death of the monster of the week, blood, gore, grumpy Dean, light smut, unprotected sex, glad-to-be-alive sex, kinda reunion sex, quickie, a little fun, banter

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023

Blaze of glory.

Dean always hoped he’d go down like this. A gun in his hand, and a smirk on his lips. Just like in the old Western movies, he loves so much.

The hero comes out to fight the big bad guy threatening to burn the town down.

At least he tries to pretend he’s the hero, and this is the way to go down. He presses his hand to the wound on his arm. It’s bleeding heavily, but he’s got no time to waste.

If he wants to take the monsters with him, Dean must get back up and fight. Even if it means wasting his last breath on a stinking pack of werewolves.

“Sonofabitch,” he curses when he slips on the floor and lands on his ass. His legs give in every time he tries to get back on his feet. “Fuck.

“Take this.”

His head snaps to the left when he hears someone else than the werewolves get closer. Three gunshots cut through the air, hitting one of the wolves wanting to attack him a second time right in the chest. The beast drops dead to the ground.

“Get up,” the voice yells in Dean’s direction. “I don’t have all day to save you, princess.”

Dean always expected to go down in a blaze of glory. He just didn’t expect to watch someone else steal his kill, and to bleed out on the ground while watching.

“Dude, did you not-“There’s commotion, and growls echo through the abandoned barn. Dean can barely see, as he slowly drifts into darkness. “Shit, keep your teeth out of my arm, bastard.”

Dean grunts as the head of a wolf ends up right next to him. He scrunches up his nose but can’t even push the head away.

“Get up, Winchester,” his head lolls back when hands grasp for him. He only hopes he dies before one of the furry beasts can turn him. “You sonofabitch!”

“Hands of my car!” Dean jolts up on the mattress, panting heavily. He squints as it’s bitch black inside the room. If it’s even a room. Or is it hell? “Where the fuck am I?”

“Welcome back among the living,” that voice again, he thinks as someone switches the lights on. He covers his eyes, groaning as the light is much too bright. “I thought you fucked yourself over for a minute.”

“What?” The hunter dips his head to glance at his arm. There is not even a scratch. “Fuck, no. Why didn’t you kill me?”

“Why?” You step toward the bed to look at him. “You still got all of your limbs, your head is still on top of your body, and you didn’t lose a single organ. You’re fine.”

“Did you forget everything you learned?” He growls, baring his teeth as he stares at your half-naked form. You’re only wearing a shirt, barely covering anything. “I was injured, deadly I may add. Now there’s not even a scratch.”

You chuckle. “You think you got turned?”

“Y/N, this isn’t funny. If you don’t end me now, I’ll lose control sooner than later and kill you. You don’t want to end with your heart missing, right?”

“Aw, you’re kind of cute when scared,” you dip your knee into the mattress. “You’re not going to turn into a wolf, Dean.” You purr the words as you push against his chest to climb on top of the hunter. “I wouldn’t mind if you get a little rough, but we will see.”

“What? I-“ Dean splutters. He can’t believe you start nipping at his neck while he fears the wolf in him will rip you apart. “Y/N this is insane. I’ll kill you. Please end me.”

“Dean, I’m trying to have glad-to-be-alive sex with you. Now shut up and get to work,” you straddle his lap and look down at Dean. “The wolf didn’t damage your dick, right? If so, I need to tell Castiel to heal your limp dick too.”

“Cas? Cas was here and…” Dean’s eyes darken, and he grunts. “You could’ve told me so!”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Running your hands over his chest you smirk. “What will you do about it, Winchester? How do you want to punish me?”

“I should kill you,” he flips you over before you get the chance to react. You don’t mind, though. As long as you get what you want, you’re game. “Maybe leave you here to think about your sins.”

“I saved your ass,” you sass as he settles between your legs. “Without me, you’d be a chewing toy for werewolves by now.”

“You’ve got a mouth on you,” he claims your lips roughly, leaving you no chance but to moan into his mouth. Your hands claw at his biceps, nails digging deep into his healed flesh. “And Cas saved me, not you.”

“I killed the wolves,” you move your hands to his waist to shove his boxers down. “And I brought you here. Without me, you’d be dead.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, now give me my reward. Fuck me, baby. Make me feel alive,” you breathe against his lips. “Or did you forget how to fuck me?”

The hunter doesn’t need much encouragement. He growls against your lips as he slips inside of you. Claiming your body as his.

Dean doesn’t waste another moment with foreplay or pleasantries. He knows that, if you’re in this mood you want it rough, and animalistic.

The bed starts creaking with every powerful thrust. “Harder. Faster.” You’re impatient and want to get off and feel alive. Dean doesn’t know it was a close call for you too. “Fuck me like you are not allowed to ever have sex again.”

You claw at his body, nails biting into his back as you try to meet his thrusts.

Dean buries his face in your neck, moaning your name while fighting his approaching high.

He’s so close to losing it too soon, and you don’t make things easier for him. You’re on the edge and pumped up from the fight. It doesn’t take you long to reach your high, triggering Dean’s orgasm when you tighten around him.

A good fight always arouses you. Especially when you get to save Dean Winchester.

“Fuck, that was fast, sweetheart,” Dean grunts. “I wanted this to last longer. Reunion sex and all.”

You grin. “You’re getting old, is all.”

“I should’ve bitten you,” he buries his face in your neck and sinks his teeth in your neck. “If I ever turn into a werewolf, I’ll bite your ass.”

“Bite my pussy and we are golden…”

Tags in reblog.

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #smut #flufftober vs kinktober 2023

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johaerys-writes · 18 days ago

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Chapter 3: El Diablo En El Ojo

Read on AO3 | Read from the beginning

The western wind is hot and humid as it sweeps over the valley, drifting in through the half open windows. It brings with it the the smell of warm, freshly tilled soil, of hay and manure, the lowing of the cattle and the clop of hooves from the round corral where the horses train. Achilles heaves a great sigh, letting his gaze stretch far across the yellow-blue afternoon sky.

“Abscesses, as our trusty compendium puts it, are a collection of pus or purulent matter among the tissues of the body, and are a result of acute inflammation; occurring in a weak or scrofulous person, they may last indefinitely, in which case… Achilles, are you listening to me?”

Achilles reluctantly tears his eyes from the window to look at his tutor. Chiron is frowning at him over the rim of his round reading glasses, Dr. Hippocrates' thick Compendium of Maladies and Formulae open on the table before him. Achilles straightens in his chair, trying to look invested, and doubting very much that he’s doing a good job at it.

“Of course,” he says. “I’m all ears.”

“Oh yes, and they’re everywhere but here.” Chiron, of course, doesn’t look convinced. “Will you indulge me, then, by reminding me how to treat an acute abscess, in advance of a doctor?”

Achilles takes a breath, trying to jog his memory. “When it forms near the surface, a poultice with flaxseed meal or bread and milk is preferred. Open and drain the abscess as soon as pus has formed, and keep clean with castille soap and water.”

“Correct. And what if there are indications that the abscess is not near the surface? If it’s in, let’s say, the brain?”

“Why, then, I think our fellow’s a goner, Chiron,” Achilles quips with a grin.

Chiron doesn’t seem to share his amusement in the slightest; he shakes his head and lets out a long-suffering sigh as he takes off his glasses.

“I wish you would take your instruction seriously every once in a while, Achilles,” he tells him, setting down his now folded glasses on the lace tablecloth, and closing the big tome. “We’ve been here for the better part of the afternoon, and I doubt that even a third of that information has made it into that brain of yours.”

Achilles stretches his arms over his head with a groan and arches his aching back. Though the chairs in his father’s old study are quite comfortable, it still doesn’t make it any more enjoyable to spend most of his day cooped up in the stuffy room, when he could be outside, working or training or riding until both his own and Xanthus’ skin are damp with sweat and glistening. The large clock on the far wall idly ticks away the time, an insistent reminder of how slowly it passes when he’s studying, and how fast it flows when he’s anywhere but here.

It's not that he doesn’t enjoy his lessons with Chiron. He does, a great deal. Chiron is a renowned teacher, with vast knowledge on pretty much every subject imaginable. There is nothing under the sun, Achilles thinks, that Chiron isn't at least a little familiar with. Every day, Chiron teaches him maths and language and science and philosophy, but his teachings don't stop there: his tutor often takes him to the stables, the pens and the fields to show him how to harvest plants, how to treat wounded and sick animals, how to read the signs in the sky, the clouds, the birds, the stars.

There is no other tutor that could teach as much, and so effectively. Achilles is well aware of how lucky he is. But today, with the merry sounds of the ranch coming through the window taunting him, he simply can't sit still. His mind is elsewhere, miles away—or perhaps just a quick hop and skip away, where the stables are, where Patroclus is.

The mere thought of the boy makes Achilles all giddy and flushed. He's probably hard at work just now, tending to the horses or cleaning the stalls, his shirt sleeves bunched up to his elbows and the sheen of sweat on the back of his neck. There is nothing Achilles craves more after a long day of studying or working than spending the rest of it with him, and he knows Patroclus feels the same. The bright smiles he gives him whenever he sees him are evidence enough, and although Achilles gets to see them everyday now, they still feel like a rare gift. It hasn't been too long since Patroclus regarded him with wariness after all, but over the course of the summer, something has changed. Achilles feels changed just by being around him.

Achilles' heart skips and thumps in his chest. It’s been happening more often of late that simply thinking of Patroclus makes something warm and fuzzy blossom in his chest. It’s thrilling, but it’s also scary in its potency. As much as he likes spending time with his other friends, never before has he felt such a visceral need for someone else’s company.

His father’s words, however, are never far from his mind.

In the Great War, after men got their first kill… this is what their eyes looked like.

Perhaps it is Patroclus himself that scares him, sometimes.

“Chiron,” Achilles says after a while. “Can I ask you something?”

Chiron, who was flipping through the pages of the medical compendium again and muttering under his breath about poultices and grain-pills of Hepor Sulphur to help hasten suppuration, blinks up at him. “Yes, of course.”

Achilles licks his lips, swallowing hard. He doesn’t know how to ask the question without sounding odd, so he just goes for it. “If someone kills another person… does that mean they’re a bad person?”

Read the rest on AO3!

#patrochilles #achilles #patroclus #the song of achilles #tsoa #hades game #the iliad #homer's iliad #cowboy au #johaerys writes

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grannyandgrandpascreations · 3 days ago

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Merry Christmas Pilgrim, John Wayne, "The Duke" Old Western Christmas T-shirt

Get ready to spread some Western holiday cheer with the "Merry Christmas Pilgrim" John Wayne T-shirt! This vintage-inspired design features a classic line from The Duke himself, the legendary John Wayne, known for his iconic roles in Western films. Whether you’re a die-hard John Wayne fan or just love a good holiday laugh, this Old Western Christmas tee brings a unique twist to your Christmas wardrobe. With its bold, humorous design, this shirt showcases John Wayne’s signature line "Merry Christmas Pilgrim" — a perfect nod to both classic Western movies and the holiday season. Crafted from soft, high-quality fabric, this Christmas T-shirt is as comfortable as it is fun, making it an ideal choice for cozy family gatherings, holiday parties, or as a standout gift for Western movie buffs.

Celebrate the holidays in true cowboy style with a touch of nostalgic Western flair. This shirt makes a perfect gift for the John Wayne enthusiast in your life, or a fun way to showcase your love for the Old West and Christmas traditions. Whether you're channeling The Duke's legendary spirit or just looking for a humorous addition to your holiday outfit, this tee is sure to spark smiles and conversations wherever you go.

Just your everyday comfy t-shirt. Get comfortable with our 100% cotton crew neck t-shirts. Made of 100% soft cotton for a smooth, breathable fit. Pre-shrunk cotton tees are perfect for layering or wearing alone. Lightweight fabric keeps you cool and dry so you can look great and feel great all day. The perfect tee shirt for a modern casual look. Not too long so you can wear these untucked with a pair of jeans or chinos. Looks great under a casual blazer and jeans for a relaxed Friday style. Stylish and versatile everyday crew neck tees are a wardrobe staple.

Care instructions: Turn item inside out, machine wash cold, no bleach, no softener. Do not dry clean. Do not iron. Tumble dry low.

Due to different picture lighting settings the actual color might vary a bit from the pictures.

Current Turnaround Time due to upcoming Holidays - 1-5 Business Days. While we always use priority shipping options, once shipped we cannot guarantee delivery due to the backlog current being experienced USPS/UPS/FedEx. If you have a strict deadline, please message me when ordering so that I can note any rush requests. Ownership of packages turned over to USPS transfers to the Buyer. We are not responsible for lost, held, damaged packages or delayed packages, once your package(s) leaves our Shop it is completely out of our control. Thank you for understanding!

Thank you for visiting Granny & Grandpa's Custom Creations, we truly appreciate your support of small businesses. We also personalize our products, please reach out to us with any personalizing any of our products, additional fee's may apply.

All items are created or designed by Granny & Grandpa's Custom Creations. We also print and heat press our items using our professional, commercial grade heat press! Each design is made with High Quality, Heat Transfer Vinyl.

Thank you so much for supporting our "small Granny & Grandpa's Shop", we truly appreciate YOU!

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LET’S GET SOCIAL & BE FRIENDS! Like, Tag & Follow us for Our new Creations, Inspiration & Giveaways!

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Merry Christmas Pilgrim, John Wayne, "The Duke" Old Western Christmas T-shirt. This is a perfect T-Shirt for any "Old Western" men or woman fans! This is a unique Christmas T-Shirt and will impress your family and friends during the Holiday Season!

Care instructions: Turn item inside out, machine wash cold, no bleach, no softener. Do not dry clean. Do not iron. Tumble dry low.

Due to different picture lighting settings the actual color might vary a bit from the pictures.

Thank you so much for supporting our "small Granny & Grandpa's Shop", we truly appreciate YOU!

Please visit www.grannygrandpascustomcreations.com/shop to view more of our creations!

LET’S GET SOCIAL & BE FRIENDS! Like, Tag & Follow us for Our new Creations, Inspiration & Giveaways!

website/ www.grannygrandpascustomcreations.com/shop

facebook.com/ https://www.facebook.com/GrandpaHandmadecreations/

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canoetrends · 2 years ago

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How to Choose the Right Colours When Buying a Kurta Pajama

Men’s kurtas have evolved over the years to include bold hues like pink, blue, yellow, green, and more, in addition to classic neutrals like white, black, grey, and beige. With a wide range of colours and designs available, it can become difficult to choose the best and right colour for kurta pajamas.

If you’re planning to shop for all the weddings you’ve got to attend this season, then we’re here to help you choose and make your experience a delightful one!

Introducing some amazing colours into your Indian wear wardrobe is amazing, but it’s also important to choose the right ones.

How to Choose the Right Colour for Kurta Pajamas:

Choose colours based on the season: selecting colours according to the season can be a bit tricky, especially when there are various prints, fabrics, and designs available.

Spring: If you are looking for trending colours for kurta pyjamas for a spring wedding, then you can consider soft pink, pista green, off white, and lavender. Delicate silk kurtas with minimal work will work best in soft, breezy weather.

Summer: For summer weddings, go for colours that are cool and light, like light blue, crisp white, leafy greens, and light oranges. Cotton or linen kurtas in white or light colours will work best for summer weddings and will keep you relaxed all day.

Winter: For winter weddings, you can choose warm and deep colours like red, navy blue, and black. Moreover, a royal blue colour kurta with white pyjamas will look outstanding and will make you stand out of the crowd.

Choose colours based on the occasion: The following are the best colour combinations for different wedding functions that are trendy.

Haldi: For Haldi events, you can choose a radiant, bright yellow kurta pajama set for a traditional and spirited look. Also, if there is slight embroidery work, or gota patti work, on the kurta, it will look very unique and elegant.

Wedding: Wedding days demand luxurious and eye-catching colors. The best colours for a wedding are deep red, maroon, rani pink, and gold. You can also go for kurta sets that have minimal work. For the perfect outfit, you can go for a deep maroon kurta set and drape a dupatta to elevate your outfit.

Reception: A reception is basically more of a formal event and demands elegant shades. You can go for simple colours of kurta like white, black, or grey. Bandhgala kurtas are also in these days and will make you look smart and classy.

Canoe is here to help you choose the right colour for a kurta set. Kurta pyjamas are most preferred on festive occasions, but it is very important to choose the right colours that are relevant to a given occasion or season. If you are unsure, Canoe’s kurta pajama collection is all you need to explore and select according to your personal choice and preference. visit our nearest store or shop

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143-iloveu · 7 months ago

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Credit goes to the owner, @slave_girl_1004 I do not own this photo!

MDNI - Not all of my works are NSFW, but I do not want minors interacting with my blog just to be safe. All NSFW content will carry a Mature Community Label. Ageless and empty blogs will promptly be blocked.

Eternity

Idol!Chan X Idol!Reader

Tooth-rotting Fluff

Content Warnings - Teeny tiny make-out session, Chan calls reader princess (otherwise GN!Reader), reader stares at Chan's shirtless torso (can you blame them?)

Word Count - 2,040

Synopsis: You never imagined going on tour with your boyfriend and his bandmates would lead to this. Although, you wouldn't change it for the world.

A/N: This will be part of an 'Idol X Idol AU' series. Once I post the next part, I will create a master list with each part in the order they should be read. You can absolutely read this as a stand-alone though.

Your recent collaboration with Stray Kids dropped nearly six months after you and their leader, Bang Chan (Chris to you), officially announced you were in a relationship. Chris had originally written the song as his gift to you for your fourth anniversary. He wanted to write a song that would help you feel closer to each other whenever the two of you are touring opposite sides of the globe. That same night, the two of you (and JYPE) released statements confirming your relationship. After four years together, you both felt that it was time to tell the world.

Chris begged you incessantly for weeks to sing it as a duet with him. He desperately wanted to hear your beautiful voice singing his lyrics.

“Hearing you bring the song to life could get me through my darkest days! Besides, only you and I will ever hear it.”

He didn’t realize it then, but that was a lie. Well… not a lie, exactly. He just changed his mind once he finished mixing it. When he let you hear the final cut, you knew immediately that you had to share this masterpiece with the world. You couldn’t even try to convince yourself to be so selfish.

“This should be on the next album!” you both said simultaneously.

“Only if you will sing it with me, though,” he adds, “No one else’s voice is acceptable!”

Fast forward six months, and your duet with Chris is the most popular song on the new Stray Kids album. Fans are giving rave reviews. Some are even saying that they love how much you and Chris love each other, labeling your relationship as ‘#GOALS.’ JYPE took notice, begging you to join Stray Kids on their next tour. They offered you the opportunity to ��open’ for them in the way many Western artists do, performing some of your songs before the boys took the stage each night. In return, you were asked to perform your duet with him near the end of each show.

Tonight, you and the boys are performing in Sydney for the second night in a row. They gave the boys a few days off before the shows to visit with his and Felix’s families, but they still came to tonight’s show to support them. The pressure you put on yourself for this performance is nearly crushing. You get along with his family very well, but something about knowing they will be watching you perform with their son causes your anxiety to spike.

“Five minutes, Y/N!” the stage manager shouts.

You are nothing more than a pacing ball of nerves at this point. You’ve never been so nervous for a concert… not even in your early debut days.

“Two minutes!”

Just as they shout the warning, all eight men come running down from the stage. Chris quickly scans the room, searching for you. He smiles when his eyes land on you. You meet his gaze just before he’s yanking his shirt over his head, changing into the last outfit of the show. You can’t resist the urge to admire your boyfriend’s toned torso, the way his muscles contract with every movement momentarily relieves your anxieties. Mere seconds later, he’s pulling another shirt on and adjusting his mic, snapping you back to reality.

“You ready, princess?” he calls as he motions for you to join him.

You nod and step onto the rising platform. Chris is quick to intertwine his fingers with yours, squeezing lightly. Your worries melt away as he holds your gaze.

“I love you,” he says as the stage manager yells a ten-second warning.

“I love you, too.”

The platform rises, and the stage lights flood your vision. The crowd cheers as your silhouettes come into view, and the music begins to play as the two of you step into the spotlight. You look over to Chris, trying to keep your anxiety in check. He looks breathtaking under these lights. His beauty captivates you, just as it has for the entirety of this tour (and your relationship), drawing a smile on your face.

As Chris begins singing, you feel goosebumps rising on your skin. No matter how many times you hear or perform this song, it will always affect you. There is so much emotion in his voice. He’s looking at the crowd far less than usual, keeping his eyes fixed on you. It’s as if the whole world is standing still around you.

As you finish the song, he finally addresses the crowd.

“What did everyone think of the show tonight? Did you have a good time?”

Everyone cheers.

“You guys were absolutely amazing! The energy was intense!”

“I agree, Chan. They were phenomenal!” you chime in.

“Stay, what did you think of Y/S/N’s performance?”

The crowd erupts in cheers yet again. Stays have been so accepting of you and your relationship with their Bang Chan. Sure, some people didn’t take the news well, but most Stays have welcomed you with open arms.

“Me too, me too…” he begins, “It has been such a blessing and honor to share our stage with her. Thank you all for welcoming her so positively. It warms my heart to see your love for her.”

“Yes, thank you, Stay. Your love and support mean the world to me. I had so much fun with you all tonight. Good-”

“Actually, before we say goodnight…” Chris interrupts, cheeks red as a tomato, “I have one more thing I want to say.”

The crowd cheers for a moment before he gently asks them to quiet down.

“Y/F/N…”

Your eyes go wide. He never uses your real name on stage, not a single slip-up. He’s a professional through and through.

“The last four and a half years with you have been a dream. No one has ever understood or accepted me the way that you do. Having my members and Stay made my heart feel full, but then you came into my life, making it feel so full that it may burst.”

“Channie…”

He steps closer to you as he continues.

“Christ, I’m rambling… Sorry, I’m nervous,” he says with a shy giggle, mostly to the crowd.

You catch the other members making their way back onto the stage. They are grouped, standing at the rear of center stage. The crowd cheers until they each make a shushing gesture.

Once the crowd quiets again, he continues.

“What I am trying to say is that you are the most amazing and important person in my life. You are my best friend, my rock, and my home. You make me happier than I ever thought possible. You are irreplaceable, and I want to spend eternity with you. So, in front of my family, my members, and Stay…”

He bends down on his left knee, holding your hands in his. Felix jogs over, handing him a small blue box. When that box comes into view, your heart begins to race. Is this man proposing to you in front of all these people? He sure knows how to make a grand gesture!

The entire stadium erupts into a chorus of gasps before he holds the mic up to his lips again.

“Y/F/N, will you marry me?”

Your tears are flowing freely before he’s even finished his speech. He opens the box, revealing a stunning ring. It’s a modest princess-plus cut diamond nestled between two opals (his birthstone) and two of your birthstones. It’s beautiful! You are sobbing at this point. He clearly understands that you prefer to leave the flashy jewelry for the stage.

The crowd is screaming now, the floor vibrating from the intensity.

“Say yes, say yes!” they chant.

The boys are shushing them. The crowd takes a moment to respond, eventually quieting to just above a murmur.

You nod your head a few times. Suddenly, Seungmin’s voice comes over the speakers.

“What was that, Y/N?”

You lift your microphone, your hand shaking like a leaf.

“Yes,” your voice trembles, “of course I’ll marry you!”

His eyes light up before his toothy grin smushes them into the cutest little half-moons. Once he slides the ring onto your finger, he jumps to his feet and pulls you into a hug, spinning you around in excitement. You laugh at his cute antics. He places you back on the floor before pressing his lips to yours, kissing you deeply in front of 20,000+ people. Your heart is beating erratically, and you’re overjoyed. The boys are each screaming their congratulations and well wishes into their mics, clearly happy for their leader-hyung.

You were the first to pull away. If you hadn’t broken the kiss, there is a good chance that Chris would have stood there kissing you all night.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, Christopher.”

The crowd is going wild. They’ve been screaming for nearly a full minute. The boys let them have a moment before attempting to reign in the energy. Once the crowd settles enough for the boys to be heard, the intro to #LoveSTAY begins playing. You know this is their encore, so you make your way off the stage.

You flop onto the couch in the group dressing area. Your body feels as if it is vibrating with excitement. You stare down at your left hand, the ring on your finger making your heart race all over again. You’ve known that you wanted to marry Chris since before your first anniversary, but you never imagined that he’d propose like this.

After the boys finish their performance, he comes to find you. When he catches sight of you smiling down at the ring on your finger, he feels an immense wave of pride wash over him. He’s the one who made you smile like that, and he is beyond thankful that he’s the one who gets to bring you so much happiness.

He walks up behind you, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek.

“I can’t wait to wake up to that smile every single morning.”

“Channie!” you squeal happily.

You climb over the back of the couch, nearly jumping into his arms. He smooths your hair before kissing you passionately. You will never tire of the feeling of his soft lips pressed to yours, always leaving you breathless. He places one strong hand at the nape of your neck and the other on your waist, sending shivers down your spine. A moment later, he pokes his tongue out, silently asking for entry. You grant it, tongues in a slow battle for dominance. He easily takes control just as the rest of Stray Kids enter the room.

“Ew!” Hyunjin jokes.

Chris’ hand leaves your neck, raising a middle finger in the general direction of his grown-ass ‘children.’ You pull away before the boys can make any more comments. The pout your now fiancé wears is almost cute enough to draw you back in.

“While I am happy to sleep in my bed finally, I’m sad that the tour is over.” Jeongin sighs.

All of them nod in agreement.

“I had so much fun with you these last few months, Y/N.”

“Me too, Channie. I had a blast with all of you!”

“I never want to go on another tour without you,” he smiles as he pulls you into a hug.

The others groan in mock disgust at his affection toward you. They always act as if your public displays gross them out, but you know they are just being dramatic.

“Get in here, you dorks!” you shout as you wave them over.

You only have to ask once before all seven of them are bounding across the room. They shout happily before they squish you and Chris into the center of a giant, bouncy group hug. Your chest is pressed firmly against his, and he smiles apologetically. The boys have you two trapped in a too-tight embrace, but neither you nor Chris would want it any other way. Wrapped in the muscular arms of all eight members of Stray Kids, you know that you will never be lonely again.

“I love you boys so much!”

“We love you too!” they shout in unison.

A/N: Thank you, Elly, for prompting me to write a mushy Chan proposal with idol!Chan and idol!reader. Without your input, this fic wouldn't exist. Soft, mushy Chan deserves more recognition, and I'm here to ensure he gets it! I hope you love this as much as I do!

And thank you, Elly, for being my number one hype-woman! You are the only reason I was confident enough to start posting in the first place. You mean the world to me! ~Ashe 🦊🐺

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woofs-silly-ships · 27 days ago

Text

Ahem

Spoilers below

WHAT

THE

F U C K

WAS THAT

THEY WERE ACTUALLY GOING TO MAYBE REDEEM HIM

MEGGY ACTUALLY DID SOMETHING WITH THAT, SHE DID WHAT ALL THE PUZZLES FANS HAVE BEEN WANTING TO DO

LEGITIMATELY FUCK YOU MARIO

IT HAPPENED IN ALL OF 5 SECONDS TOO

I WAS TRYING SO HARD TO PROCESS WHAG JUST HAPPENED

(Mario has gone from one of my favorites to by far my least favorite character and will never be moving back up, no matter how silly or resentful my guy is he had zero reason to do that, especially when puzzles was now friendly with the person standing RIGHT NEXT TO MARIO… that genuinely broke me beyond belief and even if Puzzles breaks out I’m still not changing Mario’s rank now /srs)

I mean I’m glad he’s not dead but still

He’s going freaking insane rotting in a freaking jail cell and it broke my heart

I still get to have my AU where the didney crap doesn’t happen and the canon storyline where my s/I starts killing everybody so yippee I guess?

Aside from that the episode and song were freaking awesome

That song went from me happily head bopping to depressed head bopping near the end LMAO

Oh and I NEED that puzzles plush and shirt grrrrrgrgrgrggrgr

I do hope that they’ll maybe give the arc some time before putting Puzzles into play again, because they clearly want to and I’m happy about that, but we need time to breathe or the fandom will implode again lmao

TLDR: not as depressing as I thought but still sad lol, good WOTFI, Western Spaghetti is still my favorite smg4 movie tho

#mr puzzles #selfship community #selfshipper #smg4 #smg4 mr puzzles #selfship #mr puzzles smg4 #safeshipping #mr puzzles x oc #wotfi 2024

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antonsmommy · 3 months ago

Text

Reliever Pt. 3 (Jung Sungchan)

・word count: 3.4k

・pairing: Sungchan x Reader

Synopsis: Part 3 of Reliever.

As Sungchan's presence in your life becomes increasingly obvious, the lines between professional and personal blur, setting the stage for a steamy night ahead~

・warnings: cursing, unprotected sex (I already said this before, but don't imitate), very very delusional, fluffy, the kind that wants you to bedrot,

・author’s note: Part 3 because why not?! Please tell me if I need to write more fics because the thirst is real.

8:26 pm

Sungchan… I-I… I’ll text you my address. You think you can come over later?”

Your deep, attractive voice kept ringing in his ear, and the anticipation gnawed at him.

But what really shook him was what transpired twelve hours ago in the dressing room.

He had acted impulsively, crossing a line he never thought he would.

The memory of his own lascivious behavior made him wince, a tidal wave of guilt washing over him.

Sungchan had feelings for you—there was no denying that.

Something about how you looked at him during the photo shoot unleashed some sick beast inside him, but…

He needed to apologize for disrespecting you like that.

If he wanted to win you over, he’d do this the right way.

There was nothing but a door between him and the consequences of his actions, and the small cup of latte he bought for you.

His fingers tingled with nervous energy as they lingered near the doorbell.

Two seconds in, and the door swung open.

“Oh, glad you’re here. No traffic?”

Damn, she’s really pretty.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sungchan stood in front of you with a curt smile.

You really shouldn’t ogle at him like that, but him in a dark washed Western shirt and tight denim jeans got you thinking about that massive di-

Ohmygod. Snap out of it!

It has been a couple hours since that happened, and with how you were walking funnily, it was a dead giveaway that you were sore.

It wasn’t an accident. Surely, you both wanted it.

Perhaps not being with a man for many years now and getting rejected by Eunseok took a toll on your confidence, but the very second you felt Sungchan’s male gaze on you?

Oh it was on.

Then again, you second guessed why you invited Sungchan to your place.

Shit shit shit. He’s gonna think I want to have sex again…Not that I mind, but oh fuck. He’s gonna think I’m a grade A hoe.

No, no no. Just apologize to Sungchan. Tell him you’re sorry, and that you should both forget what happened. That should seal it.

You got interrupted when you heard Sungchan clear his throat.

“I got this for you.” He handed you the coffee cup he was holding.

Not gonna lie, the thought of someone buying coffee for you made you weak.

He took a deep breath, locking his eyes with yours

“I’m really sorry for what happened earlier. It’s not right for me to come into you like that.”

You heard him apologizing, but the pain in your body was so intense that it distracted you.

“Thank you, S-Sung…”

You halted midway, catching him staring at your lips once more. Was it just a habit of his, or did he have a particular fascination with the way your lips looked?

This time, he had a lingering, longing look. You almost heard him catching his breath.

Something possessed you because you tiptoed to do the unthinkable.

You were going to kiss Sungchan.

But surprise, you felt his warm, gentle hand slowly pushing you away.

This was even more humiliating than when Eunseok rejected you—Sungchan had just turned down your kiss.

Crap, just because he bought you coffee doesn’t mean anything. What the hell was I thinking???

You were starting to feel the debilitating effect of your intrusive thoughts until Sungchan tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Look, I want you too, I want you more than you want me, but clearly, you’re sore all over. I won’t risk that because it’s going to hurt for you.”

Sungchan’s words made you feel undeniably feminine, a warm and fuzzy feeling spreading through you at his straightforward, almost protective tone.

He wants me too.

Still, despite the way his assertiveness stirred something deep within you, things were still in the air.

“You want me too? What are you trying to say, Sungchan?”

“I do, and I intend to do this properly. What happened between us earlier isn’t a passing thing for me. And once you do understand, I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

I’ll give you exactly what you want.

If that wasn’t enough to make your knees weak, Sungchan brushed his index finger against your jawline down your neck.

I’m probably stupid or sore, but I’m not too sure what you meant by doing things properly.”

Sungchan chuckled, showing you his full smile.

“I’m after you. Simple as that. If you need specifics, first agenda is to make sure that Eunseok's not even a factor.”

It was your turn to lightly push Sungchan away. Your head was spinning from what he said.

I’m after you.

I'll make sure Eunseok's not even a factor.

Fuck, he’s licking his lips now.

If this were taken out of context, you’d think Sungchan was out for blood, but that’s just how he was- straight to the point, no bullshit.

“For the record, Eunseok’s out of the picture, and hold on a sec-how did you know about Eunseok?”

Sungchan clenched his jaw as he leaned in a little closer, his voice low and edged with a trace of possessiveness.

“I’ve been watching closely. It’s hard not to pick up on things when you’re interested. And just so we’re clear, [Y/N], I’m not letting anyone else get in the way.”

As Sungchan's words sank in, a flush crept up your cheeks. At that point, you were wincing from the soreness on your body, but you were lost in your thoughts.

Strange. You’ve dated around four or five guys in your early 20s. All of them wishy-washy, with a degree in mixed signals.

In that split second, you started to question why you even fancied Eunseok, who specialized in dark humor and witty sarcasm.

Well sure, Eunseok’s face could launch a thousand ships, but….

But then there’s Sungchan, and you let out a horrified scream when he picked you up bridal style to carry you to your bed.

“Sungchan!”

He carried you in his arms effortlessly and put you down as lightly as possible.

Thank God you were in a studio apartment- the bed was easy to spot.

“Sorry, this is on me. Your knees were about to give up on you, and you need to lie down.”

It was evident that he looked concerned, but there was a sinister glint in his eyes when he said that it was his fault.

Come on, he had that enormous thing beneath him. Who could take that well?!

He pulled out a strip of Tylenol from his Louis Vuitton bag. “Take this, and just focus on getting better.”

“T-thanks for the coffee. And the meds.” You said shyly.

Sungchan glanced at his wrist watch. “I’ll head out now. Don’t think too much about what’s coming for you. We’ll sort it out.”

You were about to ask him more questions, but you were silenced when he inched his lips closer to yours.

Shiiiiiit. He’s going in for a kiss.

Sungchan lunged back and hesitated. “Hmm next time.”

Fuck, what a fucking tease.

———————————————————————

Something changed.

The three weeks that followed were filled with a new, understated rhythm.

Something changed, but things were the same.

Eunseok would pester you at work and tell you about another girl he was interested in, but look at you- unaffected and even supportive.

You would sulk and hide behind a smile whenever Eunseok would talk about other girls, but something did change. You no longer cared.

Shotaro continued being the best boss in the world, but every single day after that incident in the dressing room, Shotaro would noticeably joke about your dating status.

“New guy? Does he work here?Hihi.”

To be fair, you had no idea whether Shotaro knew about you and Sungchan, but one thing’s for sure.

You were starting to see Sungchan in a different light.

In the past, it would take you three hours into your shift to notice Sungchan in the room, yet recently, just the mere whiff of his sandalwood perfume would cause the sides of your lips to ache.

And whenever he was in the room, you found it difficult not to stare.

Like clockwork, Sungchan would walk by your desk at exactly nine am, just to give you your favorite latte.

Those three weeks felt long but fleeting- with Sungchan’s presence becoming more evident in your life.

At first, it was just the morning coffee, but as the days went by, he’d text you if you’d eaten your lunch. If you haven’t, Sungchan would be at your station, ten minutes later with whatever food you felt like eating.

You rarely saw each other during the peak hours at work, but each time you’d cross paths, Sungchan would secretly brush his hand against yours.

That small, subtle act was simple but grand enough to have you thinking about Sungchan at night (with your trusty toy, on occasion).

Every night, he’d call you once he’s home. On nights when your anxiety and sleep paralysis would eat you up, Sungchan would answer in three rings, and the call would last until the wee hours of the morning.

Of course, he’d be sleepy. But even his sleepy, raspy voice was seductive.

On the third week, you swore something’s wrong with your heart because…

Sungchan, Shotaro, and that new model Anton all went to Japan to do a special fitting in Kyoto for seven days and six nights.

That one week seemed to stretch painfully long, as the space he left behind was empty.

Sure, Sungchan texted you every chance he could, but when he sent you his picture wearing a plain black shirt and his new pair of glasses, you realized something.

You missed him.

It wasn’t just his face nor his body that you pined for, but the idea that he was so close, yet so far killed you.

It’s as if his absence was your punishment for not noticing Sungchan earlier.

Still, something lingered in your mind.

Will he ever ask me out on a proper date?

As if things had been aligned for you, Sungchan called you in his hotel room, a day before his flight back home.

He accidentally switched the camera on, revealing what he was wearing- nothing.

Sungchan had wet hair, towel wrapped around his waist. Fuck. What were you supposed to do with that image?

It took you every little inch of self-control not to ask him to open his cam again, but all your dirty thoughts came to a sudden stop…

“Oops, sorry ‘bout that. Anyway…listen, I got something for you. I was wondering if we can meet somewhere for dinner once I’m back tomorrow…I’ll be in Seoul by three pm…”

Stupid little you thanked the heavens that your cam was off because your giddy smile was not cute.

“Uh…. Yeah. I think I’m free tomorrow, Sungchan. See you?”

————————————————————

Just your luck, because you were woken up with a violent headache.

Every movement sent sharp waves of agony through your head, as if your brain was being drilled at the sides.

You had already taken two Geworin tablets, but it barely made a dent.

Your age wasn’t helping either; your body felt sluggish and uncooperative, struggling to recover.

Catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror—skin pale, eyes dull, a deep frown etched across your face.

It was clear you couldn't push through this. The thought of disappointing Sungchan made your chest tighten, but the pain was too intense to ignore.

Reluctantly, you reached for your phone and sent Sungchan a text.

“Really sorry, Sungchan, but I’m not feeling well at all today. Can we resched?”

Just as you expected, Sungchan was disappointed. He’d usually reply in a flash, but today, he left you on read.

Maybe you were overthinking this, or maybe you weren’t, but what can you do?

You can’t go out and pretend that everything’s okay, just because your flirty ass wanted to see a guy you’ve been crushing on.

Not wanting to catch another anxiety episode, you popped a sleeping pill and drifted to sleep.

——————-

The sound of your phone buzzing woke you up.

4:02 pm

You immediately bolted up from the bed when you realized Sungchan was the one calling.

“Hello?”

Sungchan sounded breathless. “Hi. Uh…So I’m outside your door…Can I come in?”

Oh my fucking…Sungchan’s here. No time to wear makeup- but nah. Let him see this jumpscare.

Hastily, you hung up and ran to the door.

“Hi.” You managed to say, looking at him from head to toe.

Just wow. This look was too damn much for you to take at four pm.

His black down jacket hugged his broad shoulders, while the low waist distressed denim jeans revealed just enough of the length of his legs. In his hand was his huge travel bag.

Okay, I get it. Sungchan literally just arrived in Seoul, and he went straight here.

You were too busy swooning; you didn’t notice Sungchan was staring at you with the same intensity.

“Did I disturb your rest, hm?”

Something in the air was thick, and situations like these got you wishing you had some sense of humor to break the ice, but…

Fuck. I’m not wearing a bra.

You hurriedly grabbed your knitted sweater from the coat hanger and gestured for Sungchan to come in.

Politely, Sungchan took off his leather shoes, put down his bag on the carpet and walked towards you- his eyebrows furrowing with concern.

Was he angry that I took a raincheck? That’s why he left me on read?

“Sorry I put off our plans-I had a terrible headache. I-”

“No, sorry. I was in the plane when I got your text, and I grabbed a cab to your place right after landing in Incheon. And my bad for coming unannounced.”

Sungchan placed his palm on your left cheek, causing you to step back from the sudden contact.

Last time you felt like this was during junior high when your crush called you by your name.

Your breathing was ragged, he was searching into your eyes with genuine concern and fire, all while stripping himself off his down jacket. “I don’t feel so bad now…Thank you.”

God, that’s a really nice body.

Without any warning, Sungchan took your hand in his and guided you to the bed.

Millions of thoughts raced through your head as he helped you settle down your duvet.

Taking note of the untouched glass of water on your bedside table, he took it for you to drink.

“Sungchan, y-you really don’t have to. I can do this.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “I know you can, but let me do it for you.”

Okay, I’m sorry. That was it. I’m in love with this guy.

You took another good look at him to confirm your feelings.

Yup, I’m sure. And rejoice, because my headache’s almost gone.

To calm yourself from the irregular heartbeats you were having, you whispered to Sungchan.

“Sungchan-could you please fix my pillow?”

Sungchan nodded instantaneously and reached over, carefully adjusting the pillow behind you. As he leaned in closer, his scent—sandalwood, with a hint of something distinctly him—enveloped you. His proximity was electrifying you, and suddenly, everything else seemed to fade away.

Before you could even question right or wrong, impulse took over.

You leaned forward and captured Sungchan’s lips with yours.

The kiss was spontaneous, driven by the sudden realization of your feelings.

Taken by surprise, Sungchan froze for a millisecond, but his response was nothing you were prepared for.

He cupped your face to deepen the kiss. Sungchan was gentle at first, him biting your lower lip, but when you opened your mouth for air, his tongue came in-hungry and pleading.

His tongue tangled with yours, and in between the breathy kisses, he whispered in your ear.

“I’ll give what you want…”

“Please.”

Greedily, you ran your hands under his black shirt and pulled it over his shoulder.

That. That thing is God’s work.

Sungchan continued kissing you as he skillfully removed your sweater and tank top.

For a brief second, you felt self-conscious because you weren’t exactly looking your best.

“Fuck.” You heard him curse.

He looked at your eyes, lips, neck all the way down to your exposed chest.

“You sure you’re okay?”

You nodded like an eager kitten and straddled Sungchan’s lap.

He was already rock hard even with his pants on.

Grabbing your waist tightly, Sungchan nuzzled your neck- leaving a trail of kisses and licking your soft skin.

“Mmmm, Sungchan. Please.”

He let out his signature chuckle. “Please what?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and rubbed your breasts against his muscular chest.

“Please touch me.”

“Oh I will, but I’ll take my time.”

Why was he teasing me like this?!

Sungchan’s lips moved against your lips ravenously as he pulled down the lacy shorts you were wearing.

Okay safe, you were the type to wear nice panties.

You moved your hips against Sungchan’s -causing him to moan. One of his hands tangled in your hair as he stroked your breast.

“Ughh, Sungchan…”

You held unto him shyly upon realizing that you were already wet from just a kiss.

All your life you’ve been doing as you’re told, but you were impatient.

Wanting to take control, you unzipped Sungchan’s pants, and although you expected it, Sungchan was already bulging underneath his boxers.

In a snap, Sungchan had removed everything, and you were left with your mouth wide open.

This wasn’t the first time you’re seeing Sungchan’s dick, but Jesus he was big.

Your hand has a mind on its own because you began pumping his dick slowly and steadily.

The moans coming from Sungchan’s mouth were music to your ears. You picked up your pace and kissed him full on the mouth again.

“God I’m going crazy.”

Sungchan was a generous one- he decided to return the favor by inserting two fingers into your warmth.

“S-sungchan mmmm….”

You felt his fingers circling you, and you had to scream his name.

You thought of switching off the lights, but Sungchan pushed you down the bed.

“Keep it on. I want to see you when I fuck you.”

Ah yup, you’ve forgotten how freaky he could get.

And you’re also mental for being turned on.

Sungchan spread your knees apart and slid down your panties.

You heard his breath hitch. “So pretty and wet for me.”

You were taken aback when he leaned towards you and gave you another passionate kiss.

And then that was it, Sungchan slid his way inside you.

You screamed yet again, feeling his girth.

Sungchan took his time kissing you, leaving your neck with so many marks as he pushed himself deeper and lower until you felt a strange feeling in your hips.

He was all in, and he’s not stopping.

Sungchan called out your name, not breaking eye contact as he plunged into you, hitting your spot.

Your silver manicured nails dug against his muscular back as you felt your insides clenching Sungchan.

“Oh sorry, I dug my nails too deep.”

“Shhh. Keep doing that for me.”

Sungchan thrusted quickly this time, both your breathing erratic. “Sungchan yes…Ahhh yes please.”

Your hips moved along with Sungchan as you felt the first wave of pleasure run through you.

Just when you thought you were over, Sungchan smirked and placed your right leg on his shoulder to continue rocking his dick into your wet core.

“You look so good under me…”

Your knees were already shaking, and when you clenched hard for your second release, Sungchan started to lose rhythm and groaned in pleasure. He followed breathlessly as his weight collapsed on top of you.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sungchan’s initial thought when he woke up was to check if you were next to him.

He saw you sleeping soundly, wearing nothing underneath the sheets.

The digital clock on your wall said it was 6:04 am, and he smiled upon remembering how you two explored each other last night.

Certainly though, he made sure to take care of you right after by wiping you with a damp towel until you fell asleep.

The thought of you looking so messed up from the pleasure provoked Sungchan’s possessiveness.

Sungchan pulled you in closer to make sure you were secured in his arms.

He heard you giggling. “Sungchan. Relax, I'm not going anywhere.”

What you said next thrilled the life out of Sungchan.

“Could you stay until breakfast, Sungchan?”

Sungchan wasn’t gonna play dumb.

Your sweet, pleading eyes gave him the clear message.

You were in love with him too.

“You didn’t need to ask. I intended to stay unless you kick me out.”

You smiled sleepily. “Good, what a relief.”

#riize #riize x reader #riize imagines #sungchan #riize scenarios #sungchan smut #riize smut #riize au

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