#ive without the other. Arthur is slowly wasting away...

[theood]

I'm so excited for Malevolent s5 I hope John and Arthur regress in development. Especially John. I want heartbreak. I want drama. I want to feel the EXACT feeling I felt at the end of EP 40 when Arthur yelled

[thewanderingknight]

Aside the Outlaws, Ch. 5

Life with your newfound family among the Van der Linde Gang is pretty rough and tumble, but your modest skill of riding sidesaddle could benefit the gang while infiltrating a wealthy Lemoyne estate.

Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III | Chapter IV | Chapter V

You charge into the night, determined to find Arthur, not knowing what you’ll find - or won’t find.

Arthur Morgan & Reader Warnings: Cursing, blood. Word Count: 3,475 Notes at the end!

Considering the lifestyle you had stumbled into, there were only a few times where you felt your body was a separate being from you, or your mind. It moved, independently of your wants or needs. You were only slightly aware of the wind nipping your sore eyes or the rocking of the saddle. Godiva crashed through the dark forest, her grunts drowning out the desperate wails you tried to hide from the trees themselves.

John had tried to stop you.

“C’mon now, wait a minute,” he grasped your arm, “just wait for Charles, we can find him.”

You shoved the leather envelope into John’s chest. “I’m not sitting around another second, John. Take these back to Dutch, it’s what he wanted, plus more on Cornwall. Now help me up.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“Find him, John!” you nearly screamed, exasperated.

“It’s too dark!” he shot back

“Then I’ll burn the fucking forest down,” you seethed.

John glared at you, his eyes searching your face. You could feel yourself breaking down, heart too hyped up on the crash of the party to really think about anything. John was hazy in your teary vision.

“Here, then. Take this.” He reached for his belt and slapped the hilt of his bowie knife into your hand. “You take this, find him, bring him home.” He lifted you up onto Godiva who immediately picked up a choppy trot in the direction of the dark forest.

And here you were, eyes burning, body lead-heavy, horse tired. The weight of the forest seemed to fall in around you. A single shell in the barrel of a shotgun and a borrowed knife were all you had to support you in bringing Arthur home. It has to be enough. I have to make it enough, you repeated, over and over. Had it really been less than a day? All that tension, all that worry, twisted like a cord that snapped you right in two.

You reached the hidden meeting place, now smaller and warped by the darkness. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, but you were never the best tracker. Godiva sighed beneath you, pawing the earth. In the faint glint of moonlight, you noticed a single rifle shell; that must have been from the shot Arthur had taken when you were in the Raider’s grasp.

“He can’t be far, right girl?” you whispered to Godiva.

It was too dark to make out any hoofprints, no way to tell which way Arthur and Britomartis went. You sigh, your chest heaving with more desperate wails. You peeked out through the trees, and decided to head to the next dense cropping in the opposite direction hoping that if he had to run, he also had to stay out of sight.

Godiva picked up a slow canter. You silently took out the shotgun, letting your arm hang down. You only become half aware that you were missing the riding cane. You looked behind you, and didn’t see a single soul. Not even the screech of a fox or owl’s hoot could be heard. No one riding the road that slithered nearby, no one out camping or hunting nearby. No outlaws by your side. This was never part of the plan.

The cropping of trees was quiet. If Arthur had come through here, you couldn’t see any signs. The world was quiet as you and Godiva moved through it like ghosts. You continued forward, the only direction you had were places you thought Arthur might take, even if you didn’t know why.

At last, a sniffle let loose a sob you had been holding back. Your shoulders sagged. How long you had searched, you didn’t know. Were you even in Lemoyne anymore?

“Fuck it all,” you whispered.

Godiva slowed to a walk right in front of a small pond that gathered where the earth had sunk into a small hill. Little waves lapped at the gnarled roots of thirsty trees. Her ears swiveled to you as you gingerly slid from the saddle and fell to the ground. You hobbled to the water as Godiva took a step forward and lowered her head to take a sip. You reached a hand forward and noticed your figure for the first time. Hands bloody and soiled, white sleeves torn and strands of hair pulled from your braid. You sunk your hands into the cool water then lifted them to your face that was burning with tears once more.

I can’t go back without him, I just can’t. What the hell, Arthur? Where did you go? What happened?

You sat at the edge of the water as your thoughts curled in around you. Godiva stood patiently next to you, head drooping. Something cracked on the other side of the pond, and Godiva’s head snapped up, muscles tightening. You snatched her reins and looked across the water.

A doe stumbled through the thicket and splashed into the water, her narrow chest heaving. Something wobbled on her left side; an arrow had missed its mark and was dangling from her shoulder, threatening to fall. You remained still as you watched her fall over herself.

“Hellfire!” a groggy voice called out from up the hill. The deer hobbled through the water and bolted in the opposite direction. You crouched, leading Godiva up the hill, to see a man mount a shaggy Appaloosa, her spotted rump shining in the moonlight. He was the only person you had seen all night; there was nothing to do but follow him.

The way the Appaloosa weaved away, you had assumed the man was drunk. With a breath you steadied yourself and jumped to grab the cantle, pulling yourself up and righting your legs in the saddle. You clicked your tongue and Godiva trotted after the man.

After watching the man teeter in the saddle for a while, he led you to a small pinprick of light up a hill. You cut through the woods, staying in the shadows until you could clearly see a campfire with a makeshift tent leaning against a large trunk. Figures slowly moved through the orange light, and a shadow was slumped against a tree, away from the light.

You dismounted Godiva and slowly led her closer. You dropped her reins and looked back at her.

“Stay here, girl,” you cooed.

You moved slowly towards the light, hearing the wood crackle and the soft grunts of someone sleeping nearby. The shadow stirred and let out a pained groan.

“...Arthur?” you hissed. You rushed to his side, hands lightly reaching out and squeezing his arms. He’s here, he’s here. You found him. Relief flooded your lungs.

“W’uts… goin’ on? Darlin’?” he slurred, having difficulty keeping his head up. You reached around and cut the rope binding his hands together. Then gently taking his chin in your hands, you turned his head to see a shiny trail of blood running from his temple.

“Those bastards,” you whispered into his sweaty forehead after planting a kiss. You tried to maneuver Arthur to slowly stand. He grappled with the tree for a moment, then reached an arm out for you to duck under, and wrapped your own arm around his wide waist. “Where’s…” you huffed under his weight, “where’s Brit?”

“Dunno,” he groaned back. “I shot off that round when that raider had his hands on you, an’ got up to follow Micah down to the party. Blacked out after tha’.” He growled as his strength returned to him.

“You stay here, rest a minute, I’ll look for her, she might be with their horses.” Before he could begin to argue, you slinked back into the shadows and rustled through the brush that surrounded the campfire. You counted 3 men, easily handled, if you stayed quiet. Not too far away, you made out Brit’s crooked blaze warmed by the firelight.

Brit! Her saddlebags… With Arthur’s extra sidearms.

Before you could sneak over to the horse, one of the drunkards stumbled around the tree, aiming to relieve himself.

“Whud’re we gonna do with da Dutch boy?” He groggily yelled over his shoulder towards the other two. Arthur had slunk back down the tree trunk, still unable to stand on his own, and tucked his hands behind his back hoping they wouldn’t notice that the ropes had been cut.

One of the men seemed to be passed out near the fire, twitching in his sleep. The one you had followed to the campsite was quickly following suit, as the whiskey bottle in his hands slipped lower and lower, then plunked to the ground from his crouched position.

The last man standing started to agitate Arthur, still too weak, and you couldn’t waste another moment. Your body shook with anger. You leapt out from the brush, pushed him away and whipped the shotgun in his face. Your arms were spread wide and your back was pressed to Arthur’s chest as a shield.

You pulled the trigger and fired your last round. The man before you crumpled to the earth. Your nose bristled from the sour smell of gunpowder. The light from the fire sparkled on a wet, dark hole in his chest.

You dropped the gun. The other two snapped awake before you could rile enough energy in Arthur. One of them scrambled to his feet and ran towards you. You braced against him, your legs shaking under his weight as he tried to push you to the ground. You cried out, and faintly heard Arthur boom your name. Suddenly Godiva squealed, thundering up with her ears pinned and teeth barred. You squirreled away from the raider just as Godiva swung around on her haunches and kicked out, sending the man back a few feet where he lay still. She grunted and trotted a circle, snorting and pawing the earth.

“Good girl!” You cried through a dry throat.

Helping Arthur lean against Godiva, You ran and led Britomartis to him. By the grace of God Arthur was able to swing a foot into the stirrup and you pushed him up. You swung up into your own saddle and righted yourself, seeing the last raider emerge from the tent, awkward and bleary-eyed with a gun in his hand. You grabbed Brit’s reins and led them away.

Arthur was hunched over Brit’s neck as she followed you and Godiva down the winding trail. You heard the distant thundering of hooves, the raider must have found your trail.

“C’mon girl, please, please, we gotta go,” you whispered a plea, as she lowered her head and groaned, surging forward with power.

A bullet whizzed past your ear, you raised your hand in surprise and let go of Brit’s reins. She broke away with a skittish leap, heading down the opposite side of the lake shore.

You uselessly reached out. “No!” Arthur must have passed out again, as he let Brit take him away, hopefully back to camp.

You thundered down a hill and passed a crowding of trees. Flat Iron Lake broke open in your vision, dark and glassy in the night. For an instant, it looked like the large mirror in the parlor, over the fireplace from your childhood home. It hung in the background of your mind.

The man rode up on your left. The horses veered to the side, splashing in the water. You unhooked your left leg from under the pommel and struck out at him. Your boot met his shoulder before you felt a grip on your leg, but your right leg in the leaping pommel saved you from being pulled down.

Then, the horses squealed, lost their balances, and crashed nose-first into the shallows of the lake. Your right leg screamed with the pain of holding you in the saddle and you hobbled into the water, your velvet skirt weighing you down.

The horses bounced to the shore; the raider’s horse bolted up the rocky terrain while Godiva trotted around in a panic and whinnied, unsure of what to do. The raider had his arms dipped in the water, like he was feeling around for something. You waded towards him in a flurry of wet petticoats, making sure he wouldn’t succeed.

Too late; He roared out when he lifted the pistol with a wave. You stared into the eye of the barrel and saw his finger pull back. You closed your eyes in a flinch and turned away.

Nothing happened. The firing pin clicked, clicked, clicked.

“Fuck!” you started again, grabbing the cold steel and wrestling it from the man’s hands. You surprised him and flung it from his hands. The pistol slipped from your fingers and soared above, landing deeper in the lake with a plunk!

“Augh, bitch!” He grabbed for you, but you leapt away and back towards shore. You whistled for Godiva who whinnied back as the man waded closer and closer. The silty shore solidified beneath your feet. You reached for John’s knife hidden in the waistline of your skirt and turned on the man. But he didn’t stop when he saw the blade. He rushed you with a yell, and you were once again locked in a wrestle for control.

He pushed you down and your back hit the ground, hard. It jolted you, and he grabbed for the knife. The heel of his palm plunged the cold blade into your shoulder. You cried out, if only out of surprise. You squirmed under his weight. Godiva shrieked somewhere close by. You could feel her stomp her hooves. She continued to dance around, unsure of what to do. With panic controlling her motion, she charged at the man, sliding to a stop and rising into a powerful rear.

The raider spooked at your horse for only a moment. He let go of you to flinch as he looked up at her, and it was all you needed to kick a leg out, then strike up at his groin with your knee. He yelped and rolled over in pain. You moved with him, and the knife with you, still wobbling from your shoulder

Your hand grasped the handle. In one swift movement, you pulled the knife from your shoulder and lodged it into its final resting place in his scruffy throat. You stared away; at the upheaved sand, at the gentle lake waves and the man shook beneath you and finally ceased.

You pushed away, gasping toward the starry sky. Godiva relaxed after some time and stood quietly nearby, playing with the bit in her mouth. Groaning, you sat up and looked over. She perked her ears up.

“Good girl,” you whispered.

You slowly rose to your feet, holding a pained groan between your teeth, and stumbled towards your horse. She diligently stood still as you checked the saddle. Her ear turned towards you. You gather the reins and tensed your muscles to leap into the saddle. Then, your knees buckled.

*****

You awoke in your cot.

Or Heaven, you weren’t sure. You didn’t much care. If Heaven was a gentle light that illuminated bright canvas walls and fluttered in a cool breeze, you contemplated spending forever just lying in that simple cot. Gulls cawed somewhere in the distance. A musky lake scent wafted through the canvas flaps with a figure who laid something down next to your head and silently left. Your hand felt warm; you moved it away and felt something shuffle next to you.

“Sweetheart…”

Your head snapped towards the voice. Arthur was slumped in a stool by the cot, cradling your hand with one of his.

“Oh, Arthur…!” Your voice cracked as you tried to reach for him. He gently pushed your shoulders back into the cot then cupped your cheeks with his hands. You tried grabbing at his forearms and found your right arm held back by a sling. Your shoulder burned with the movement.

“Wh-what happened? Godiva—“ You stammered.

“Now, just rest. All in due time.”

Your eyes darted around the tent. It was still your tent. Your hat still hung from the tent post. Arthur’s mother gazed outward from her portrait. A pitcher of water stood on the night table. Arthur rubbed your cheeks with his thumbs, and you turned back to him.

“I..I…”

“It’s okay, now. I can’t believe,” he swallowed, his voice caught on a painful thought. “I almost lost you, babygirl.”

“I almost lost you,” you countered through a dry whisper.

“All that really matters is I still got you.” His voice was low, “we got each other.”

“Always, Arthur.” You squeezed his forearms and your eyes felt heavy.

“Rest, darlin’.”

“Mm-, wait,” you tried to speak through the tiredness. “Godiva?” You asked, already letting your body settle into a comfortable rest.

“She‘s fine,” Arthur replied. You had already gone back to sleep before you could feel any relief.

*****

The next time you awoke, the canvas was a calm lavender. Dull orange shadows danced on the makeshift walls. The tent was empty and the camp sounded quiet. You attempted to stand, wobbling, your right elbow pushing against the sling that cradled your arm to your front. You clumsily stepped up and pushed your boots on before stepping over to Arthur’s shaving mirror and turning around to assess the pain that started to bloom on your back. Bandages had been wrapped around your shoulder and down your side.

You stumbled out of your tent, clumsy with your arm pinned to your front. You walked through camp. Javier tipped his hat your way, Charles threw you a small wave. It seemed as though camp life had resumed, but you had felt it had completely changed. Was it the rhythm of camp, or you that had changed?

Mary-Beth waved you over.

“How are you feeling?”

“Oh, I’ve been better, I think.” You fussed with the makeshift cast and gritted your teeth.

“That’s for sure,” she offered, “Don’t worry. Scars have the best stories.”

You smiled and continued your walk headed towards the grazing horses.

Suddenly, you felt a small pressure on the small of your back.

“Glad to have you and Arthur back in the land of the living,” Dutch’s raspy voice said. He walked around you and pressed your sawed-off shotgun into your hands, without wavering eye contact. You recalled the Shire stud again, lost in his dark eyes. That colt always did have a mean streak in him. Never get too close to those sneaky ones, your pa would say.

“I’m glad he’s safe, too,” you returned a heavy, strained smile. You had completely forgotten about the shotgun, or where you had even dropped it. A shiver shot up to your skull.

“Good job, gettin’ those bonds. This could be a good thing. For the future of the gang.”

“Perhaps, Dutch. Thank you.”

He stood still, only his eyes following you as you moved around him and quickly headed towards the horses. Dutch’s face remained in your mind, but for now, that is where it would stay. You had more important beings to hold and see once more.

Godiva was grazing by herself at the edge of camp. The sidesaddle had been removed from her back, and someone had been currying her coat. You set down the shotgun leaning against a tree trunk and ran your hand through her long mane. She lifted her head for a moment, still chewing on the lush grass. She looked absolutely perfect.

“Look who’s finally out of bed,” a gravelly voice came from behind you. You turned on your heels.

“Oh, Arthur,” you strode forward and into his arms. He smiled and gently gathered you in his arms, minding your shoulder.

You touched Arthur’s hairline. “How are you?”

“Ah, I’m alright. I heal quick.” His eyes crinkled in a warm smile that your fingertips hovered over. His eyes shifted and he looked at you more seriously. “How are you doing? What happened, darlin’?”

“I could ask you the same question, Arthur. After that man at the party.” Arthur just huffed. “But I don’t really wanna talk about it. Not now, anyway.” You leaned in closer, and Arthur tightened his hold on you. With your ear pressed against his chest, you could hear his steady heartbeat. Feel the warmth of his skin. His chin rested on the crown of your head. You felt enclosed, safe and warm. You could hear Godiva close by, ripping up grass with her lips, swishing her tail.

You leaned away to catch his gaze.

“What is it, darlin’?”

“Nothin’, I think. I just-“ you took a breath and steeled yourself. “Arthur, all the bonds and gold in the world ain’t worth losing you. And I’m grateful. For you. And Godiva. That we’re here. I think, that’s all I need to say, right now.”

“Darlin’-“ he whispered, and pulled you into a bright kiss where all you needed to do was close your eyes and love him dearly.

Notes: This one hit a wall, guys. Sorry for the wait. This is not the original ending, but that is okay because it’s done and I get to share it. Thank you to everyone who read it, and asked for more!

I hope you are all well & safe.

A cheeky epilogue is on the way.

[ohdeputy]

100 Letters PART V

Arthur Morgan x John Marston

Words: 5,513

Read on Archive

Part IV

-

“John, John!”

John’s heart dropped when he heard his name being called and squeezed his eyes shut as he braced himself. After letting out a deep sigh, he opened them again and turned around to see Uncle approaching him.

“What do you want, Uncle.”

It had been another week or so without John leaving camp and he was slowly going crazy. He didn’t know if it was from feeling better and itching to leave or if his current company had finally made him crack.

“Oh, now don’t be like that! I actually had some information you might want to hear, considering you’ve just been sitting around since we got here!”

John couldn’t bear to listen to the old drunk. “Don’t talk to me about sitting around, old man. I know someone who’s quite good at that.”

“Hey, I do my fair share, like getting this information! So do you want it or not?”

John sighed, flatly responding, “what is it.”

“Well, see, Mary-Beth told me about this train,” Uncle shoved a map he seemed to materialize out of thin air into John’s hands. He carefully unfolded it, not sure where exactly Uncle had been storing it.

“I told Arthur about it but I’m not sure he was listenin’, you might convince him though. You two always did make a great team! It would be a good score, I’m tellin’ ya!”

John narrowed his eyes, “you just want the credit for it.”

“I just want to help out, is all!”

John sighed, looking down at the map. “I don’t know…”

“Don’t be so sour! Just think about it at least, jeez.”

“Fine.” John put the map away in his pocket, “I’ll think about it, but I’m not promising anything.”

Uncle wandered off while John thought for a moment longer. As much as he hated to admit it, it did seem like a good job. And with his lack of doing pretty much anything, he wasn’t in much of a position to be picky

So in the days that followed, John continued going over the map that Uncle gave him and trying to turn it into something feasible. Eventually, he started to believe that the idea had some potential. With something solid in mind, John was left with deciding who would accompany him to do the job.

His initial thought was Arthur, but he quickly pushed the idea out of his mind. He tried to convince himself that he didn’t need him, seeing as it probably wasn’t a good idea to get him involved.

He knew the job needed at least three people, so naturally Charles was his first choice. But as for a third, John had no idea who else he could bring. Javier would have suited the role, but when John asked him about it, the other man informed him that he was already preoccupied with a job of his own. Something about a farm robbery not far from where they stayed.

“Sorry compadre, you know I would run with you anytime.”

John assured Javier that it wasn’t a problem, though he was running out of options for other people he trusted well enough to partake in the heist. His mind wandered back to the one person he knew would be perfect. He cursed to himself, Arthur was the best suited to aid them. John knew it, and he couldn’t fool himself otherwise. Slowly accepting that, he concluded that he might just have to ask him.

John paced around the small area inside his tent, going back and forth in both his movements and his thoughts. If he was being honest with himself, he would prefer Arthur to take the lead for the train robbery, anyhow. He trusted the man could pull it off better than anyone else, including John, and would rather leave it in his hands.

Outside his tent, multiple voices could be heard, with Arthur’s mixed in between them. Thinking he might catch Arthur before he was absent from camp once more, he moved toward the opening of his tent. He didn’t want to give himself more time to think about the situation or back out of asking Arthur, so John quickly exited in search of where their conversation was taking place.

Upon leaving, he heard a commotion going on where the O’Driscoll boy they'd held captive was kept. Peering over toward the source of all the noise, John could make out Dutch, Bill, and Arthur surrounding the tied up man. John hadn’t really paid any attention to him until now, not even knowing his name. He avoided going near the O’Driscoll boy for the most part. Abigail had mentioned him a couple of times, saying she almost felt a little sorry for him. She had even admitted to giving him water when the weather had been particularly hot.

All John knew about him was that he was an O’Driscoll, a bit pathetic, and someone Dutch took pleasure in torturing. And as much as John didn’t want to admit it, the fellow kind of reminded him of himself. He thought of how Abigail seemed to have a soft spot for types like them, goddamn fools.

He watched the group as they harassed the O’Driscoll, John thinking that perhaps this wasn’t the best time to make himself known. Dutch motioned to Bill, who seemed all too pleased to oblige to whatever Dutch had proposed. Beside them, Arthur stood with his hands on his hips, shaking his head. It was clear he did not share the same enthusiasm as the others for whatever it was they were doing.

Only a moment later did Bill return with a pair of gelding tongs and a look in his eyes that showed he was enjoying this all a bit too much. Dutch proceeded to yank down the O’Driscoll’s trousers in humiliation then waved for Bill to come closer.

“You sick bastards!” The O’Driscoll yelled while struggling against his restraints.

Dutch paid his pleading no mind as Bill took his time inching ever so agonizingly slow toward him, snipping the tongs with every step he took. The O’Driscoll flinched each time, and even John could see him begin to tremble.

“Dutch,” Arthur rasped, wearing a frown, “do we really have to?”

Dutch didn’t even look as he responded, “patience, Arthur.” He had a glint in his eyes that made John shudder.

“Fine-FINE!” the O’Driscoll stammered out, his eyes tearing up. “I’ll tell you everything I know!”

Dutch laughed triumphantly, catching John’s eye as he did. Without breaking the stare he put a hand on the tongs Bill held out, lowering them.

“Awh, can’t we do it anyways, boss?”

“No,” Dutch spoke, a menacing smile pulling at his lips. “He has no sins to hide.”

John finally broke their eye contact, turning away from the group. He was aware of how fast his heart was beating in his chest as he tried to walk away from the scene, suddenly finding it hard to put one foot in front of the other. He could feel the sweat on his palms and rubbed them against his pants.

He retracted back to his tent in fear of meeting Dutch’s gaze again. The safety inside the canvas walls was short-lived when he heard a voice behind him.

“Enjoy the view, did you?”

John jumped, looking back to see Dutch standing at the entrance. Even though John was terrified of the man, he felt his cheeks grow hot from anger, angling himself away to avoid his stare.

When he didn’t answer, Dutch continued, “hmmm, I’m sure you loved to see that. Someone like you, that is.”

Still, John stayed silent. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of an argument but also scared of what might happen if he did respond.

Dutch gave his lack of response little mind, only continuing to prod at John further. “It’s a shame Nico isn’t here to protect you any longer.”

John flinched when he said her name, clenching his jaw.

“No worries though, the O’Driscoll can be your new best friend. His name’s Kieran, by the way. I’m sure you’ll get along jusssst fine.”

Dutch dropped his smile, “anyways, I want you to go with Arthur, Bill, and that O’Driscoll boy to Six Point cabin. There is word Colm could be close.” He paused for a moment, “oh, and I want you to be the one taking Kieran on the back of your horse.”

John whipped his head to Dutch, not able to stop himself. He thought about protesting before he met Dutch’s icy stare. It bore into him, yet he swore he could see an underlying amusement there, too. It was as if he were purposely trying to rouse John into disagreeing with him. So instead John stood up, grabbing his gun belt and coat in compliance.

Reaching the tent's entrance, Dutch’s voice made him falter for a moment longer. “Birds of a feather, John. Who knows? Perhaps the two of you will run away together.” His voice lowered to that of a sneered whisper, “though, this time maybe it would be best if you didn’t return.”

Figuring he’d heard about enough, John pushed through the tent’s opening and hurriedly made his way to where Arthur and Bill waited. He was interrupted when Abigail came out of nowhere and practically jumped in front of him.

“John-where are you going?”

“Out.” He tried to move past her, but she placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I thought maybe you could take Jack fishing, the boy wants to see you, John.”

He shrugged her off, “no-just-leave it be, woman.”

She didn’t try to stop him the second time as he walked away from her. He didn’t look up as he mounted his horse, his movements a little stiff as he did so. He was more than ready to get out of there.

“Let’s get this over with.”

Wasting no time, John helped Kieran onto his horse and spurred Old Boy toward the direction he was told to go. The others followed closely behind as the O’Driscoll led them along the path toward Valentine.

“Take a left up here,” Kieran pointed at an overgrown path exiting into a densely wooded area. John slowed his horse as the terrain became less regular. He could make out Arthur riding up beside him, who looked over at John.

“You alright, Marston?”

“Fine,” he answered while keeping his eyes straight ahead.

The more distance John put between him and camp, the better he started to feel. It was nice to ride out together with the others and do something other than sitting around. He tried his best to push away his short interaction with Dutch. The things he’d said… John only just started to relax once his hands stopped shaking. He wanted to tell himself it was from anger but knew it was more than that.

Soon they made it to a clearing littered with tents and supplies, with a cabin at the far end. There was a smoldering fire with food and drink left out like it was only recently abandoned. Clothes hung on wires left to dry but even with everything going on there wasn’t a single person in sight. John sent Arthur a questioning look, to which the other man only shrugged.

“Whatchu expect, that we’d actually find Colm here?”

John squinted, suspicious as he scanned the clearing, “no, but I thought we’d at least run into some of his men.”

Arthur dismounted, everyone else following suit. “We should look around, maybe we can find some idea as to where he ran off to.” When Kieran didn’t move from his spot, Arthur gave him a stern look, “that includes you, O’Driscoll.”

Kieran nearly jumped out of his skin before scampering after Bill to search the site. John only shook his head and pulled his rifle out from Old Boy’s saddle, slinging it across his shoulder.

“Nice new horse, by the way.”

John turned around to see Arthur still stood there. “Thanks.”

The two of them walked together toward the clearing in awkward silence. John thought back to the train heist and asking Arthur about it. Now was the best time to say something. He fidgeted with the strap of his rifle.

“There’s this train-”

“About the other day-”

They both cut off what they were about to say, waiting for the other to continue until a bullet whizzed by their heads and the conversation became an afterthought, their heads snapping to the source.

Bill ran to where Arthur and John stood, throwing himself behind a tree for cover, “get behind something, it’s a damn ambush!”

John ducked behind a log, clenching his rifle in his hands. He looked up just in time to see Arthur find cover behind another tree and immediately start firing his revolver. O’Driscolls appeared out of the woods, surrounding them. They were outnumbered but John was quite confident in their odds seeing as the rival gang was up against at least two adept gunslingers.

John peered over the edge of the log, locking onto one of the men and quickly releasing his breath as he pulled the trigger. He moved onto his next target before the first even dropped to the floor.

“Cover me, I’m gunna get closer!” Arthur called out before moving from his tree to a couple of crates not far from where John knelt. As he did, John quickly reloaded and stood to shoot an O’Driscoll who had the same idea of advancing.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another appear from behind an old tent to aim at Arthur. The man’s intention was short-lived as he dropped to the ground a moment later and John reloaded a couple of bullets.

Steadily, they picked off the opposition until a few stragglers were left, who chose to leave with their lives rather than face the same fate as the others.

“Whoooie! Look at ‘em run off!” Kieran called out as the last few just made it out of sight.

“You’re quick to change loyalties from the men you once fought alongside, O’Driscoll.” Arthur searched the pockets of a fallen enemy, shooting Kieran a look of judgment.

“I keep tellin’ y’all, I ain’t no O’Driscoll.”

Arthur didn’t say anything, but John could see he wasn’t convinced.

“Nice shooting there, Marston.”

John only nodded his head as he scanned the ground. He turned over a container in search of anything worth taking.

“You had mentioned something about a train before, uh, you know.”

John looked up, “oh, yeah. Well, Uncle told me something ‘bout a train that’s gunna be heading through Scarlet Meadows real soon. It’ll be at night, not too heavily guarded from what I hear. It’ll be good, plus-” John cut himself off. Plus it would give me a chance to start doing something, he thought to himself.

“Hmmm,” Arthur scratched his beard, looking doubtful.

John got up from where he knelt, “we’ve done it plenty of times, it’ll be good money.”

Arthur squinted in thought “Yeah but… stopping a train? Pain in the ass.”

John was prepared for Arthur’s hesitation, having spent a while going over the plan in his mind. He continued excitedly, “sure, but what if we could force a train to stop.”

Arthur gave a chuckle, sarcastically responding, “well, of course.”

Arthur knelt beside another body to loot, assuming the conversation to be over. But John persisted, moving closer to keep his attention. “I’m serious, look, we get a wagon, a wagon full of something flammable-say oil. Put it on the tracks,” Arthur stood, nodding his head slightly as he listened to John.

“Only two choices, they know they’ll either have to stop or die.” When John finished Arthur looked at him, unblinking.

“So?” John continued, “you in?”

Arthur gave a breath of laughter to which John furrowed his brow in confusion, “that is… kinda brilliant.”

Whatever John was expecting, it wasn’t that. He quickly avoided Arthur’s gaze, looking to the ground.

“Uh, for you that is.” Arthur cleared his throat, “you know, for someone who’s brain is half-eaten by wolves. But I think that’s the first time you came up with a decent plan!”

John rolled his eyes, “shut up.”

“No, I’m serious! How did you manage to end up MORE intelligent!?”

John waited for Arthur’s chuckling to die down, “so we doin’ it then?”

“Sure, sure. But were gunna need ammunition, guns, and probably some dynamite to crack open that train.” He listed the items off with his fingers. John nodded along, “I can get those from town if you focus on getting us an oil wagon, I can go there now assuming I’m not needed here anymore?”

“Sounds like a good plan, Marston,” Arthur smiled. “You sure you don’t want to head back with us?”

“Nah, I only just got out of camp. I’d like to enjoy the serenity of being away from it a little longer.”

Arthur gave a nod of understanding, “sure, I get it.”

“Alright then, I’ll catch up with you later.” John started walking back to his horse as Arthur tipped his hat in farewell. When John knew he was at a safe enough distance, he let himself smile. As much as he knew he shouldn’t let it mean anything, a little bubble of excitement swelled inside his chest.

He rode Old Boy into town and straight to the gunsmith, picking up the necessary equipment to get the job done. He made sure not to forget the dynamite before leaving, too, as it would be crucial to their plan. After thanking the owner and heading back outside, he noticed that it had started to rain.

By the time John made it to the end of the street the rain turned from a light drizzle to what looked like buckets coming down. He made it to the hotel and ducked inside, shaking himself off a bit. Thunder rumbled in the distance, making John reconsider travelling back to camp.

“Can I help you, sir?”

John turned around to see a young woman stood behind the front desk of the hotel. He gave her a smile and a nod, “as a matter of fact, do you have any rooms available? I’ll take anything you got!”

The woman returned the smile, “why, of course! I’ll show you to your room, it’s just upstairs.”

John entered the room, making sure to thank the lady as he did. He looked around the room, it was quaint and small and not at all what he was used to. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept in a proper bed, waking the next day with an energy he hadn’t felt in a long time.

He spared no time in making the trek out to the train tracks near Dewberry Creek. It was located some ways past camp, but John thought it was worth scouting out the area, so he headed southeast out of Valentine. He passed the opposite side of Citadel Rock into the open plains. The sun was high in the sky without a cloud in sight, the rain from the day prior long gone. He breathed in, thankful for the warmth of the sun with the cool wind in the air. It was perfect.

By the time he arrived and studied the spot, the sun was hanging considerably lower. John aimed to find the best spot to ambush the train, eventually finding a dense cluster of trees just beside the tracks. When John was satisfied that this location was suitable enough, he began riding for camp. He was eager to return, wondering if he might go over more details with Arthur.

Upon his arrival back, John could smell the scent of stew being passed around for dinner. He quickly hitched Old Boy, not realizing until that moment how hungry he was. The usual bustle surrounded the stew pot as people grabbed a bowl and sat together around tables and tents. John strained to see if Arthur was amongst any of them, disappointed when he thought he spotted his blonde hair only to reveal Micah. He couldn’t help his face from twisting in disgust, disappointed to know of his arrival back.

“Looking for someone, brother?”

Charles approached John with two bowls of stew in hand, offering one to John. He took it gratefully.

“Yeah, have you seen Arthur around?”

Charles shook his head, moving to sit near one of the campfires. John followed, sitting across from him. He was thankful it was just the two of them.

“He left early this morning. Did you need help with something?”

John couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that Arthur was gone once again. He tried not to let it get to him, pushing it deep in his mind.

“Actually, Arthur and I are doing a train heist and I’ve been meaning to ask if you’ll join us, too. We could use someone like you, Charles.”

“Sure, anytime.”

John smiled down at his stew, taking another bite.

“You seem surprised.”

John looked back up at Charles, “I suppose I am. You never hesitate to offer your help.”

“Only with those I find worth offering that help to. For you, it’s an honor. As honourable as you can be amongst thieves, that is.”

John raised his eyebrows. He was not expecting such high praise from someone like Charles, who he thought was better than any man he knew combined.

Charles continued, “it’s hard to find good people, and I mean wholeheartedly good people, John. I see it in Arthur, even though he doesn’t see it in himself… I saw it in Nico.” Charles looked up at John, “she always did try to look out for those she cared about.”

He paused, then gave a slight chuckle, “I see it in you, too. Though I have to admit it took me a little while to fully understand you.”

John let out a snort of laughter at Charles’ words. A moment later, the smile faded from his lips. “Can I ask you something, Charles?”

When Charles nodded, he continued. “Why did you join us? Why did you follow Dutch?”

Charles steadily set his bowl down on the ground, then sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I ran on my own for a long time. I did fine, too, but it makes life more difficult. The world is a lot crueler when you’re alone in it. I spent most nights worrying that someone might kill me in my sleep. Running with Dutch, well. Dutch is different. He treats me fair, he doesn’t see me for what others hold against me. Most of you don’t, so here I am.”

John nodded, swallowing dryly, “I see.”

He sat with Charles a while longer before departing for the night. He lay staring at his tent ceiling for what felt like hours. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Charles had said about Dutch. It was disconcerting. To be reminded of how deeply rooted people's faith in Dutch was. He wondered how someone like Charles could see such morality in John. And Arthur and Nico. Yet, he also trusted in Dutch. It made John feel sick, knowing the deceit that lay there instead.

He’d spent so much of his childhood seeking Dutch’s approval, to be praised by him. And what for? So he could fall in line with the others to be blindly shepherded along like lambs to the slaughter? Still, a part of him yearned for that validation. It was twisted, and cruel to subject himself to the thought, but it was present nonetheless. No matter how much he might deny it.

The following day there was no sign of Arthur. John didn’t expect to see him return so soon, but he had held onto the slightest hope that he might’ve been proved wrong. When one day turned into two, and two days turned into a week, John became anxious that Arthur wouldn’t come back soon enough.

John mostly preoccupied himself by going over the plan. He talked with Charles, too, which helped ease his mind slightly. After a few more days passed and there was still no word from their third party member, John started to grow a little annoyed considering the train was due in three days' time.

On the morning of the heist, John was pissed. The previous day, he ended up taking matters in his own hands by securing an oil wagon by himself as he felt he couldn’t trust Arthur in appearing out of thin air to say he found one.

John sat at his usual spot under the oak tree. He held a cigarette in one hand and the map Uncle gave him in the other. He looked over the marked X where the train tracks crossed over the road like he had countless times before. He had gone over the plan again and again in his mind, determined to do it right when the time came.

He brought the cigarette up to his lips, thinking of how little his efforts were met by Arthur. He blamed himself for thinking they could do this. It was too good to be true, John knew that now. He just wished he didn’t try to trick himself into believing otherwise so that he would’ve saved himself the trouble of trying. That, and the sinking feeling he had since coming back from Valentine.

He folded the map up and stuffed it in his pocket, not paying attention to it anyways. He was angry with himself that he was so upset over the whole situation. He didn’t know what he expected to get out of it all. To try to be closer to Arthur? Physically, since emotionally was never an option. In all the past eight years that idea had never gone well. So John didn’t understand why he thought that could change.

John could hear indistinct conversation coming from the edge of camp, which he paid little mind in his deep thought. That was until he heard what he thought was Arthur’s voice reply. John’s head snapped up, thinking his ears may have deceived him. To his bewilderment, there Arthur stood in the flesh.

John took a long drag from his cigarette while he watched Arthur hitch his horse. As if he felt his eyes on him, Arthur turned his head toward him. John quickly looked away, scowling as he did. He heard his footsteps approach but still refused to look up when they stopped in front of him.

“Hey-”

“You never got us that oil wagon, did you.” John finally did look up at him, flicking the cigarette away after blowing out his last breath.

It took a second for Arthur to register what he said, “Ah, I’m sorry,” he gave a little chuckle. “I clean forgot.”

“Are you? Sorry?” John shook his head, “nevermind.” He stood, “it’s taken care of, anyways.”

He moved to walk past Arthur, “otherwise we’d miss that train.”

Arthur took the few steps with him, opening his mouth like he was going to say something then closing it. John stopped to turn to him again, “are you still interested in the job? Cause if not I’m sure I can-”

“I am.”

John nodded, “okay then. Well, good.”

When neither of them said anything further, John continued on his way.

“Er, Marston-”

John faced him again but didn’t say anything. Arthur continued, “thanks… for getting it, by the way.”

John stared at him without saying anything, he blinked and without thinking blurted, “maybe we shouldn’t do this job together.”

It was a joke to have thought he could work jobs with Arthur again. He thought perhaps things were good enough between them that they might be civil. But the tension was there already, and it would only continue to build. The two didn’t work well together anymore. John’s heart dropped at its realization and from the look of surprise on Arthur’s face.

“You take it. Get Charles and Sean or someone to go with you. You don’t have to give me a cut, either.”

“What, why? Is this because I didn’t get the damn oil wagon?”

John winced at that, “No. It wasn’t. But it was your job to get it.” He felt his frustration rise, like a fuse that had been waiting to be lit upon Arthur’s arrival.

“You know, I’ve been pretty busy running all over the damn state. Perhaps you should’ve gotten it in the first place, seeing as you’re not preoccupied by much these days.”

John scoffed, “what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I shouldn’t be surprised. Since when does John Marston finish anything he’s started. Maybe I will take Sean with me, seeing as he’ll be a good replacement for your incompetence to see things through!”

John raised his hands in frustration, “I’m not talking to you like this, Morgan.”

Arthur laughed dryly, “go on then, run away like you always do when you can’t handle it.”

John gave a look of disbelief, “are you joking? Can’t handle it? You’re the one who didn’t bother getting the damn oil wagon! I actually want this job, believe it or not!”

“Yeah? Well what’s it like being disappointed?”

Their yelling immediately ceased, the air growing quiet like the silence that follows the crack of a whip.

John blinked, “what?”

Arthur hesitated for a second before his features hardened, “maybe you’re right. Maybe we shouldn’t work together on this.”

Not waiting for a response, Arthur turned and walked away, leaving John behind in the quiet aftermath of their argument. Alone and with nothing but a boiling anger that grew inside him, John turned too, stomping off toward the direction of his tent.

Without stopping, he grabbed his coat and left again. He found Old Boy and mounted the horse, steering him out of camp. Spurring to go faster, he flew through the countryside. John didn’t know where he was going but knew he just needed to get away for a while. He didn’t slow his pace until he came up to the river. He didn’t recognize this part of the winding waters, making him realize just how far he’d gone. But he didn’t care.

He slowed Old Boy and launched himself off and paced on the sands of the river a moment. He wanted to scream from frustration, yell at the top of his lungs. Looking down, he picked up a rock and threw it into the water. Then he picked up another and did the same, repeating himself again and again. When he got tired of throwing rocks, he stuffed his hands in his pockets. He paused for a moment, feeling the map. His fingers curled around it, then yanked it out. Without hesitating he ripped it apart and hurled it with all his might.

For all his force, the pieces merely fluttered around him, getting caught in the wind. They lingered briefly before a breeze swept by and took them away. John watched them go, and suddenly he was on the ground with tears streaming down his face. He didn’t know where it came from, but he couldn’t stop now that he started crying. The sand was cold and damp yet he continued to sit there, unable to move.

He wished he didn’t rip up the map, he wished he could put the pieces back together.

No. that wasn’t it. He wished Nico wasn’t dead. He wished what he and Arthur had wasn’t dead. He wished he didn’t fuck up every relationship he ever had. He treated Abigail poorly, and could barely look at Jack. John didn’t know how they all deserved to have someone as flawed as him. He thought he could move on, but it seemed he would be dealing with the repercussions of his actions for the rest of his life.

John held his head in his hands, gazing into the churning rapids of the river. He wondered when things got so out of control. It felt like just yesterday when he and Arthur were still kids doing nothing but spending their days never apart. Now John was so much older and alone, growing into someone he never wanted to be.

Night fell over the sky making the crickets song come to life and the stars flicker up above. John didn’t realize how long he had sat there until the evening had come and went. Wiping his cheeks with the sleeves of his coat, he eventually stood. His bones ached once he got up, stiff from sitting for so long.

Old Boy grazed not far from the river, looking up when John walked over. He gave the horse a few pats, “sorry, boy. Let’s get you home.”

John retraced his way back to camp, this time much slower than before. He tried to collect himself along the way, finding it to be pointless as his heart was still heavy. He waved to Bill as he crossed over the border into camp, quietly hitching his horse and retreating to his tent. He took off his coat and crawled into bed, his last thought wishing the day had never happened.

[sandysmoved]

Finally finished some lewvithur thank god

Here have an ao3 link if that’s what you’d prefer

I’ve got the first few paragraphs of the prequel to this waiting for me to get my shit together so maybe that’ll see the light of day eventually but anyways enjoy some soft sad kids

Against the brilliant and sterile white of the pillow underneath his messy blonde hair, it was so much easier to see just how pale Arthur was, which in turn made the sickly grey circles under his tightly shut eyes even darker. Even worse, the way the thin sheet clung to his softly shuddering frame, it was impossible to miss how thin he was, how absolutely tiny, how frail he seemed. Laid out on a hospital bed, tucked away in a corner and hooked up to so much equipment, he looked…

Lewis tried to banish the thought with a shake of his incorporeal head, but it lingered like the afterimage of a flash bulb.

Arthur looked like he was dying.

Lewis flinched at the rough, humorless “heh” from his left, and glanced down at Vivi as she rubbed Arthur’s right hand, careful to avoid disturbing the IV lines tucked under paper skin, like a prayer stone. “You think this looks bad,” she murmured, reaching up to swipe at a few stray tears darting down her cheek, “but he’s been worse. You should’ve seen him...should’ve seen what happened after the cave.”

Lewis couldn’t keep the black pits of his eyes from drifting across Arthur’s shallowly twitching chest to his left shoulder. The blanket dropped immediately at his side, the soft cotton barely concealing what he now knew to be a cold steel dock embedded in scarred and tender flesh. The metal arm that hooked into the implant was discarded on a nearby counter, occasionally sparking uselessly, dented and crumpled and shredded in the fall.

God, Lewis hadn’t even noticed it at first, but now he couldn’t tear his gaze from the empty space where his last spot of contact as a living, breathing human used to be.

“He stopped breathing a few times on the table,” Vivi murmured, and Lewis felt his dim, cracked anchor jolt as she continued.

“Died several times,” she whispered in a daze. “Almost lost him too.”

“Vivi…”

She choked out a bitter laugh in spite of herself. “And the worst part? I wasn’t so scared of him dying. I was…”

She carefully sat Arthur’s cool hand back down on the soft sheets, then removed her glasses, wiping her eyes and rubbing her temple. “...I was scared I’d forget him too.”

Lewis dropped to his knees as Vivi choked out a sob, and she let him pull her into his arms. She pressed her wet face into his broad chest and heaved, her heartbroken wails periodically drowning out his frantic, shuddering I’m sorry Vivi I’m so sorry I didn’t know I didn’t think I made a mistake I’m so sorry I didn’t want this I made a mistake -

It hadn’t taken too long for Vivi to fall into an exhausted, fitful sleep, and Lewis c a r e f u l l y lifted her up, crossing the room without a single step to gently lay her down on the visitors couch. Mystery emerged from underneath, hopping up to curl up against his mistress’s side and whining as Lewis bent down to scratch him behind his ears.

“She’s right. He coded several times the first few days. If we had gotten him to the hospital any later than we did…”

The disguised kitsune trailed off with a mournful whimper, and Lewis could feel his heart breaking. “It wasn’t your fault. If you hadn’t done it-“

Mystery looked him in the eye, his too-human voice soft, but steady and packed with emotion. “But it wasn’t his fault either, Lewis.”

Black emptiness and magenta rings clouded over with shimmery pink tears, and Lewis nodded. “Yeah,” he choked out, “I know that now.”

~*~

Vivi and Mystery were still curled up fitfully on the couch, and every gentle sound from them made Lewis jolt in the chair, struck from his grief stricken fugue state. Each time he glanced at the wasting figure in the bed, metaphorical heart fluttering in hope, but each time he was forced to come to terms with the fact that Arthur still wasn’t awake.

Despite the reassurances from the medical staff that his injuries weren’t as bad as they seemed, Lewis was honestly starting to wonder if he ever would be awake again. Hell, if he wasn’t looking close enough for the faint rise and fall of his chest, wasn’t clinging to a hand that occasionally twitched in his grasp, he could be easily convinced that Arthur was already gone, lost to the world forever.

All because of him. Him and his stupid mistake.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, faint words tumbling like pebbles from an illusory frown, “I’m so sorry Arthur.”

He gently lifted Arthur’s hand, carefully pressing his conjured lips against his bruised knuckles. “I’m so,” he choked, holding the calloused hand in both of his as he shuddered in grief and guilt, “I’m so sorry-!”

“Llllewis?”

The ghost jolted, eyes darting to the side, expecting to see Vivi rubbing sleep out of her eyes, but...she remained asleep on the couch, twitching and scrunching up her face in response to an unseen specter of the dream world.

“Llll...Lewis.”

His anchor stilled as the realization hit him, and at the same time the cool digits trapped between his own bony fingers twitched. Lewis glanced back at the bed, blinking furiously to clear the pink-tinted distortion of new tears springing from the empty sockets.

Under bruised, heavy lids, two foggy rings of amber met his own gaze. Arthur drew in a shaky, pained breath, one injured lung protesting the exertion, but he still managed to force an exhausted smile as he wheezed.

“I...I found you, Lew.”

Lewis stared at him like a damned soul finding salvation, and managed a weak, relieved chuckle as he reached out to brush away a stray tear that had slipped out onto Arthur’s cheek. “Y-yeah Arthur. You did it. You found me.”

Arthur leaned into the touch with a contented sigh, and both men flinched a bit at the sudden stunned inhale from behind Lewis. Vivi sat up so fast she almost knocked a startled Mystery off the couch, and she blinked behind her pink lenses, trying to confirm what she was seeing. “Arthur?”

The mechanic smiled, and tilted his head lightly in Lewis’s direction. “H-hey Vivi, look...I found him.”

With a loud, delighted sob of laughter, Vivi scrambled off the couch, hurrying to Arthur’s bedside and throwing her arms around his shoulder. He winced a little at the impact, but sank into the embrace as she buried her face into his neck, laughing and crying and shaking as she held him. He carefully turned his head as she tilted up to press frenzied, ecstatic kisses against his cheek, managing a weak laugh until he found himself suddenly face to face with-

“L-Lewis?”

The ghost was smiling through his tears, only inches away from Arthur’s face, and slowly leaned in to press his own gentle kiss against the smaller man’s forehead. Arthur let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and Lewis drew back to press their foreheads against each other, closing his eyes and letting his anchor fall into the same soft rhythm as Arthur’s heartbeat.

“M-missed you, big guy.”

“Yeah,” Lewis whispered, one hand still holding his own and the other reaching across to cup Vivi’s tearstained cheek, “I missed you too.”

The hospital bed shifted as Mystery hopped up to drape himself across Arthur’s legs and resume his rest, and before long, the others joined him, Vivi pulling a chair closer to wrap her arms around Arthur’s side as she fell asleep directly above the lullaby of his beating heart. Arthur’s fought to keep his eyes open, desperate to hold on to this quiet moment of togetherness after so many months of confusion and separation.

“Lewis,” he choked out shakily, trembling as the ghost ran one bony hand through his mess of blonde locks.

“Hey,” Lewis murmured in Arthur’s ear, “it’s alright. Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up. Promise.”

His words were like a spell, and Arthur’s battered frame went still almost immediately. With a soft sigh, he finally closed his eyes, weakly leaning against Lewis’s forehead as he drifted off.

For the first time in months, the nightmares of a sickly green cave and violet flames kept their distance.

[jkgrl]

Say You Wont Let Go

Jungkook x Reader // oneshot // 5k words

Summary: Jungkook just wanted to have one night where he didn't think about you, but unfortunately for him that can never happen.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, mentions of alcohol and vomiting

A/N: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG OMG!! I feel so bad but ive spent a long ass time on this so I hope you like this oneshot!!! Its inspired by the song say you wont let go by James Arthur I literally love that song so much. enjoy!

 Jungkook was hellbent on not going to the club that night. He really was. After an extremely long, and tiring concert all he wanted to do was crash in the dorms, and play Mario Kart with the rest of his band mates while consuming a copious amount of junk food. Unfortunately for him, his hyungs were all riding their post concert high and wanted to finish the night with shots and girls.

After getting back to the dorm Jungkook dove straight for his room, avoided the pestering comments from his friends about how he ‘needed to get out more.’ And ‘it wasn't healthy to drink straight from the two liter pop bottle.’ Yeah, okay as if that were true.

Once Jungkook was in his room he body slammed onto his bed. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the many messages, subconsciously telling himself he wasn't hoping for one certain message from one certain person.

He was cut off by a repeated rapping sound from the door. Jungkook buries his head into his pillow and groans. Why couldn't everyone leave him in his depressed state alone?

“Let! Me! In! Kookie!” Shouts a deep voice with fervent purpose.

“Yah, Taehyung I just want to be alone right now.”  He grumbles while trudging his way to the door unlocking it and peering at the tall boy with sad puppy eyes in front of him.

He jutted out his bottom lip in his signature pout, and that was enough for Jungkook to let him in. Sad Taehyung never failed to make Jungkook into a big puddle.

“Come to the club tonight with me? It'll be fun yeah?” He grasped Jungkook’s arm and ran past him, wrenching him deeper into their shared dorm room.

Once in the middle of the room Taehyung started to twirl around still arms linked with Jungkook laughing jovially. Moonlight from the window cascaded them in shadow as they pirouetted and pirouetted.

“Alright, alright. Let's stop now.” Jungkook said through breathy puffs of air that fanned over Taehyung's face. Pulling his hands out of Taehyung's he flopped down on the bed into a pile of pillows and blankets. Yeah, there was no way he was going to go clubbing when he had such a comfy bed.

Taehyung flitted around their dorm room, grabbing what he called ‘the essentials’, which basically meant breath mints, and a change of clothes in case he vomits on himself. Jungkook let out little grumbles of protests when he was suddenly being pulled him from the solitude of his warm bed by Taehyung.

“Yah! Leave me alone I'm comfy!” Jungkook groaned as he rolled onto his side clinging to his bed for dear life. Taehyung was having none of that as he grabbed Jungkook’s blankets and ripped them off him in one swift motion.

“You know what you need tonight?” He asked as he got real close to Jungkook. That shit eating grin plastered on his face that always seemed to be there when he was up to no good. “To. get. laid.” He said enunciating each word slowly so the point stuck in Jungkook’s brain.

He flopped back down on the bed, staring up at Taehyung’s boxy grin. “Damn you're right.” Jungkook sighed out.

“Of course I'm right! I always am! Now if you'll excuse me…” Taehyung trailed off, pulling his shirt over his head, and grabbing a bottle of cologne. He doused himself entirely in the smelly perfume while making sure to flash Jungkook his tan exposed torso.

“Make sure to do that at the club. The ladies will be all over you if you do a strip tease on the dance floor.” He giggled as he poked Taehyung’s squishy sides.

“The ladies would be all over you too Kookie if you just tried.” That comment wiped the smile from Jungkook’s face completely, his giggling long forgotten as his face formed into one of anger.

“You know why I don't try.” He grumbles pissed off to the point of no return and pointing his finger into Taehyung's chest forcefully. “Don't fucking bring her up again.”

He felt shitty. He really did. Especially when he saw the way hurt flashed through Taehyung's puppy eyes, but he couldn't help it. The boys knew not to bring you up around Jungkook in fear of sending him back into a downward spiral.

It's been exactly eight months since you left him, and with each passing day Jungkook has been able to breath better and better, but that's only because he has wiped away every reminder of you. The only thing he can't seem to get rid of is his memories of you.

But his image of you has faded. When he tried to picture you all he got was blurred lines and fuzzy features. He's forgetting the way you looked in the morning sleeping next to him. He's even forgetting the way you smiled at him like he was your everything. When you left, you burned everything he thought he knew about you, leaving him grasping for any idea of you. Now it's been months, and he's finally getting better. He's even thinking about hooking up with someone just to feel some type of love again, but then Taehyung had to go and mention you. He didn't even have to say your name, all he had to do was give Jungkook that signature look. It's the face that says ‘I'm sorry someone fucked you over to the point you can't go out anymore.’ Jungkook has become very akin to that look.

Sighing heavily he looks back at Taehyung's sulking figure leaving the room. “Wait Tae, shit I'm sorry I'm such a mess.” Jungkook garbled out, his voice breaking towards the end.

“It's okay man,” Taehyung says as he nearly runs back towards Jungkook, enveloped him in a great, big bro hug, with a pat on the back and everything. “You've made so much progress Kookie. I hate to see you waste away in this room, playing Mario Kart and thinking about some girl.” He mumbles, pulling Jungkook almost impossibly closer to him.

“You're right. Time to move on, am I right?” Jungkook laughed, shaking his head as he pulled away from Taehyung's tight grip. “Come on. Let's go.” He said finally.

Taehyung's eyes bugged out of his head and he grasped Jungkook by the shoulders. “You mean it? You're actually gonna go clubbing with us?” He shouted.

“Yeah, I'm over her. Let's get shit faced.” Jungkook said with a definitive tone. Taehyung whooped and hollered, grabbing his Kookie by the neck, and dragging him down the hall, and out the dorm with the five other boys. All of them chanting about how smashed they were going to get.

As the door to the limo closed Jungkook had brief thoughts of you flashing through his mind, but he quickly washed them away with a shot...and then another… and then another...

---

By the time they reached the club Jungkook was on top of the world. That was probably due to the fact that he had downed a few and was possibly going to get alcohol poisoning by the end of night, if Yoongi hadn't snatched the bottle away from his needy hands.

Jungkook had let out a whimper of protest before he groaned and pressed his head against the cool glass of the window. He stared at the people who shook in the cold weather, waiting desperately to get in the club, and maybe it was because he was smashed, or maybe it was because deep down he missed you, but he thought for a split second that the girl standing just beyond the window, in line was you.

He shook his head, letting his fringe fall down in front of his eyes, glancing back up and taking a good look at the girl not twenty feet away. Her hair hung just below her shoulders, curled and pinned into a half up half down. Jungkook knew how she always loved to do her hair like that. She was clad in a navy blue dress that was so unbelievably tight in the chest but flared out as it hit her mid thigh and he shamelessly pressed his nose to the glass, scanning her up, and down, because the eight months did her so well. It did you so well.

Your friend whispered something in your ear and you burst into that familiar, bright smile that Jungkook spent months trying, and failing to visualize. He really couldn't explain what it felt like to see you again after so long. In one way it felt like he could breath for the first time in months, but in another the weight of knowing that you looked so happy without him felt completely suffocating. His chest tightened and he had to take a few calming breaths before he felt like he could move again.

He sat there, glued to his seat with his unresolved feelings on his sleeve. It wasn't until Taehyung was pulling Jungkook by the shirt, forcing him to leave the comfort of the car that he realized he was going to have to face you for the first time in what felt like forever.

Stumbling out of the car he felt like he was underwater. Pressure built in Jungkook ears and the dull screams of the fans were muffled to him as he searched the line for you.

He didn't love you anymore. He didn't. He was positive.

Everything after that happened in slow motion to him. You turned towards the sound of the excitement, a smile still plastered on your face, that is until you saw Jungkook. Immediately you paled, eyes widened, an emotion he couldn't quite pin point flashed through your eyes, and god, you looked just as beautiful up close and it made his heart sting  painfully in his chest before he stopped it. Jungkook took a deep breath that burned in his chest as memories of that night when you left him flashed vividly before his eyes. He’d be lying if he said that didn't persuade him into doing what he did next.

It was petty really, but it was all done from a place of deep hurt. He made sure that when you two made eye contact that he looked as unimpressed as possible. His eyes flashing over you like you were never anything to him. Jungkook was sure he was not drunk enough for this because the look on your face made him feel ill. Really, really ill. Even though he though a part of him kind of hated you for what you did, he never wanted to hurt you. He was just too self consumed in the moment, thinking only of keeping his image together.

It was a low blow, he thought to himself, but what was even lower was the way he blew past you, acting like you were just another crazed fan. He walked straight into the club following his 6 band members like he couldn't be bothered by your presence at all. His eyes were so trained to their back’s he never saw how your face fell, and how you had to take a minute to stop the tears that threatened to spill at the near sight of him.

Standing outside the pulsing club you reflected on the progress you had made over the past eight months. It was filled with many breakdowns that left you hyperventilating and grasping for any small reminder of Jungkook. All that time was supposed to have made you strong. It was building you up to the moment when you finally ran into him again and were able to not lose it at the sight of him, but here you were crying on a curb about a boy who just didn't care anymore.

You wrapped your arms around your torso struggling to keep it all together. Pressing your hands into your sides to try and stay grounded you repeated one thing like a mantra.

You didn't love him anymore. You didn't. You were positive.

That's why you pulled yourself together in a moment, and you turned to your friends and became the life of the party again because if Jungkook couldn't find it in him to care, then neither could you.

---

Jungkook sat stewing with anger as he watched you from the VIP section. His eyes possessively following you around the club, watching as you downed shot after shot. His anger growing each time you carelessly tossed your head back to the point he had to clench his hands into fists at his sides so they didn't shake.

Seeing you after so long was a thousand times harder than he thought it would be. Jungkook had really thought he had made so much progress in moving away from you. He had spent months pushing all aspects of your existence out of his life, from throwing away the little presents you had bought him, to burning the letters you had written him. Jungkook had gone completely cold turkey, and now his body was reacting to the process of having to see you again in the worst possible way.

It was tearing him up really, how bad he wanted you. From the moment he saw you from behind that window he felt like jumping from the moving car and clinging to you, his body craving your presence so much he felt like dying on the spot.

Watching the way your hips swayed in time to the music, Jungkook let out a string of obscenities. His gaze glued to you as you let your body feel the music, you were dancing like a stripper, and it was fucking pissing him off, and also turning him on. Which was very confusing for Jungkook.

Even when dating Jungkook you were always a source of male attention. So it came as no surprise to him when your dirty dancing caught the eyes of many suitors across the club.

Jungkook shook with anger as he watched the way others lustfully gazed your way. His nostrils flaring as he clenched and unclenched his grip on his beer. He wasn't sure why it bothered him so much but it just did. He hated this absolute power you had over him, always making him worry, and always causing him hurt.

He promised himself he wasn't going to intervene. Telling himself that you weren't his problem anymore, he tried to pull his gaze away from you. He thought he'd focus his attention on the group of girls that had been invited up to the VIP section by his friends, but as he gave hem a once over he realized none of them had half the appeal that you possessed.

Jungkook sighed deeply and raked his fingers through his black hair, pulling at his roots. Something he did when he was particularly agitated. Looking back at the dance floor he suddenly felt panic rise in his chest when he couldn't spot you. He scanned the throngs of people desperately searching for any sign of you.

All he could see was people's bodies grinding against one another. The thought of you being one them made bile rise in the back of his throat because even though eight months had passed just thinking of you with another guy kept Jungkook up at night.

Everything comes to a complete halt for Jungkook when he sees you backed into a corner by one of the men who had been shamelessly staring at you just moments ago. The look on your face was one of complete revolt as your tiny hands shoved weakly against the large man’s chest.

Bolting past Taehyung and his friends, Jungkook takes the stairs from the VIP section two at a time. Once the ground he rips through people on the dance floor. Keeping in mind that each step is taking him closer to you he runs at a speed he didn't even know possible.

By time Jungkook shoves the last person out of the way his black hair is matted to his forehead with sweat and he was breathing heavily.

The man’s hands groped your sides aggressively as he continually tried to grind against you despite your repeated protests. Your hands were slamming against his chest as he pushed into you, but in a moment his heavy weight was lifting off of you, your hands flailing against nothing.

Opening your eyes you're met with a scene you never expected to see. Jungkook has your assailant pinned to the ground. The vein in his neck pronounced and his face all screwed up into something nasty as he gripped the man by shirt speaking to him in a very deep, malice filled tone.“Don't fucking touch my girl ever again. I swear to god the next time I see you I'll kill you. I fucking will.” His voice dripping with enmity for the man below him as he tightly gripped his shirt, pulling it so taut that it was starting to rip.

“Jesus man, we were just having some fun! I didn't know she was yours I swear!” The man shouted clearly afraid from beneath Jungkook.

Letting out a bitter laugh Jungkook stood up, pulling the man with him in one swift motion. Dusting off his shirt and fearfully glancing between you and Jungkook your attacker scurried away with his tail between his legs.

If you were being honest Jungkook's raw fury had scared the hell out of you, but before you knew it his soft side was back and he was pulling you into his chest gently. Cradling your head into his shoulder and running a hand over you soothingly as you felt goosebumps rise on your skin like a map of where he was touching you.

Jungkook pulled back and looked you in the eye. Even in the dark you lit up his entire world. Club lights bounced off your features causing him to feel illuminated just by your presence. Touching your skin sent jolts of electricity through him leaving him feeling slightly buzzed and even more intoxicated. He couldn't help himself as he ran his fingers through your hair, pushing the strands away from your face so he could see you more clearly.

“Are you okay?” He whispered into the shell of your ear while grasping your hands in his. “Please tell me he didn't hurt you. God, I couldn't live with myself if he did. Just-” Jungkook broke off his sentence by pressing his forehead against yours while closing his eyes and fighting back tears at the thought of someone else touching you.

You both stood there for minutes just drinking in each other's presence after not seeing each other for so long, and maybe it was because you were drunk or maybe it was because you missed him but you breathed him in, your hands grabbing at his jacket, his arms, his hair until you pulled him into you, crashing your lips against his.

Jungkook immediately moaned into the kiss, reaching his hands up to tangle in your hair as he pushed you back against the wall. The music was blaring into both of your ears but the sound was muffled to you two as you fell deeper and deeper into each other.

Jungkook swiped his tongue across your lower lip begging for entrance and you happily gave it to him, remembering just how good Jungkook was at kissing you. It was as soon as you tongues collided though that Jungkook could taste the alcohol on you.

Realization hits him like a freight train because he knew you didn't want this. He remembers how you told him just eight months ago that you didn't want him anymore. It was something that really stuck with him and pained him to ever think about, but in this moment he can even hear your voice as you screamed those awful words to him.

And that's why he pulls back. Narrowly avoiding the way your hands try to pull him back into you because even though he knows all he wants is to kiss you right now,  he's not so sure you want that too.

“Jungkook…is something wrong?” Your words slur together and he realizes that it’s the first thing he's heard you say all night. And it's fucking tearing him up because literally everything is wrong.

It's wrong that he kissed you, and ruined all his progress, and it's wrong that you don't actually want him he way he wants you. It's wrong that he just took advantage of you in your drunken state and it's damn right upsetting that you look so beautiful tonight that it physically hurts his heart.

The funniest joke of all though is the fact that you look truly hurt by his rejection as if you actually wanted him,  but he knew that it's just the alcohol talking.

“What's wrong is that tomorrow you're gonna wake up and regret even seeing me here let alone kissing me.” Jungkook runs his fingers through his black hair and lets out a deep sigh feeling his insides curl at the look of pain that runs across your face at what he says next. “And I'm gonna wake up tomorrow in the same place I was eight months ago.” He chokes out.

You tentatively take a step forward and press your hand against Jungkook's cheek. He jerks back at the sudden contact almost as if your touch had burned him, but when you prevail he leans into your touch. Fat tears were clumped in his eyelashes and you hold back a sob at the fact you've caused this all.

Because you let go. You let go the love of your life because you were selfish and couldn't stand dating an idol. Your told yourself that by cutting things off in such an aggressive manner Jungkook would stop loving you and be able to move on with his life. Even though it really killed you to see him with someone else, you loved him enough to let him go, and to be happy. You knew it killed him that he couldn't take you out in public, and you knew he hated having to sneak around with you into the night. So you decided what was best was to cut it all off. Get rid off the source of the pain. You being the source.

Painting yourself in a horrible light wasn't that hard, what was hard was seeing the pain it had caused Jungkook. Even now as he stands in front of you, months after your breakup you still see that wrecked boy in front of you, who was letting out whimpers of ‘don't let go’s and ‘I love you’s.

With his cheek still warm in your hand, you close the gap between your bodies. Hot air swimming around you both as you stare into his eyes remembering why you love him so much.

Holding onto your wrist, Jungkook stares completely captivated by the color of your eyes.

“Stay with me tonight, and I'll show you in the morning that I won't regret this.” You whisper pressing your forehead into his and breathing in his scent, the strong smell of Jungkook filling your senses.

His heart sped up in his chest, beating widely as he stared down at you. Before he knew what he was doing he was pulling you out of the doors of the club. The cold air hit him like a ton of bricks but the feeling of your hand in his was enough to keep him warm.

You crawled after Jungkook into the waiting taxi and as soon as he door closed safely behind you he was lifting you into his lap and nuzzling his head into your shoulder.

“I missed this so much.” Jungkook mumbles into your neck as he presses open mouthed kisses onto your skin, your head lolling back, and your eyes fluttering shut.

Jungkook was positively on fire. Wherever your hands hands touched ignited a flame under his skin and he squirmed to press himself closer to your body, craving that heat you provided. Your dress worked its way higher and higher up your thighs as you straddled him. As soon as a he got a view of your lace underwear he let out a strangled moan that made a you feel empowered.

You had always been a great dancer, and Jungkook soon remembered your skills when you started to circle your hips against the growing bulge in his pants. Jungkook couldn't breathe when he looked at you swinging your hips back and forth against him, drinking up every ounce of pleasure you provided him and feeling dangerously intoxicated by your presence. Heat swirled between you as you both filled the car with intimate sounds, not even embarrassed by the flustered taxi driver who got you to your destination as soon as possible.

Rolling out of the car, a tumble of limbs, and hot desire, you pulled Jungkook up the many stairs to your apartment. Stumbling along the way, because you were so blasted out of your mind. You didn't even know what was happening. All you knew was Jungkook was finally here again, and fuck you weren't letting him go for the second time.

Your hands were everywhere as you entered your bedroom, gliding over the expanse of his chest, up his sides, cupping his cheeks as you pulled him closer to you. Your kisses were rushed, a mess of heavy breathing and mumbled curses throwing Jungkook into a frenzy as he tried to undress you as fast as possible. His hands shaking in the process because he was so drunk off the alcohol and your body.

Suddenly you placed your hands on his chest as a feeling of dread crept through your body and up to your mouth. “Jungkook-” you whispered the room spinning as you pulled out of his grasp. “I think I'm gonna be sick.”

Jungkook's hushed responses went unheard to you as you bolted to the bathroom. Collapsing near the toilet and heaving out a whole bucket of alcohol. Your body totally rejecting the poison you had put into it.

Jungkook was quick to move to your side, holding your hair back as you heaved and heaved, repeatedly emptying your body of its contents. His heart constricting with worry for your well being as he soothingly ran his hand up and down your back drawing circles into the skin to try and soothe you.

Suddenly you stopped, turning and smiling over your shoulder. It was a thankful, shy smile that blossomed on your cheeks making your eyes crinkle, and successfully knocked the wind out of his lungs. Jungkook could swear that moment he was completely stone cold sober, all his alcohol consumption long forgotten, because you looked just as beautiful as ever.

He forgot a lot of things when he looked into your eyes. He forgot that he was older than you, that he was an idol, that you had broken his heart, all he knew was that he wanted to dance with you right now. He knew that every day from here on out was going to get better, because it would be spent with you. You made him feel like he was enough and that was all that mattered.

“Stay over. Please?” You whispered as Jungkook slowly pulled you closer to his chest, hugging you to him on the cold tiled floor.

“I think you should get some rest.” Jungkook hushed as he silently rocked you back and forth.

As he gazed down at your features and everything came crashing down on Jungkook. He felt like he was drowning in a sea of his emotions, being completely taken over by the fact that he loved you. He really, really loved you. When he was with you felt safe, almost as if you were his home, and all this time he'd been away from you all he needed was to come back to you, because he had found what he needed in a person.

If he was being completely honest it absolutely terrified him. It scared the shit out of him that in one second he found a love that will take him a lifetime to get over.

You fell asleep like that, in his arms on the floor, completely exhausted from being sick, and Jungkook carried you to your bed, tucking you under the covers gently. Smoothing the hair back from your forehead he pressed a gentle kiss to you cheek.

You smelled just like he remembered and it caused him to laugh. Some things really never change he thought to himself. You were always such a constant for him, even when you left he could never rid you from his senses. It's you. It's always been you and it says will be. The hurt you had caused him was temporary but his love for you wasn't. He tried convincing himself that he was fine but that was just denial and seeing you tonight confirmed for him that he'd truly never get over you.

He was prepared to leave. He gathered his things and was ready to go back to the dorms when he heard you stir in your sleep, letting out a small cry for Jungkook.

Rushing over to you he sat perched on the side of the bed. You groggily opened your eyes reaching for Jungkook's waist in the process. Pulling him down next to you and snuggling into his broad chest.

In your sleep ridden state Jungkook could only make out snippets of words. Whimpers of “don't leave me”, “I need you.”, and the one that rang most clearly in Jungkook's ears were “I love you.”

His heart beat loudly in his chest. Every fiber of his being on fire. He loved you and all he wanted was to be there for you. To be able to love you till his lungs gave out and till you were both gray and old. The past was in the past. He couldn't change the amount of time you two lost but he could sure as hell try and make up for it. He didn't know what the future held for you two but as long as you didn't let go again, as long as you loved him that was enough.