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dearhargrove · 3 months

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thirty feet under

Evan Buckley x reader

summary The last thing you expected to see on the news tonight is Eddie trapped under 30 feet of mud with your husband desperately trying to get him out. Knowing how reckless he could get, you drive there after informing Bobby and have a talk with Buck.

word count 4734

tags basically s3 e15, reader and Buck are married, fluff, and hurt :<

a/n I dunno I was just sad watching that episode like the way Buck was immediately trying to dig Eddie up? I'm crying actually. I love these two fr. Yeah wtv I just needed to write something where Buck isn't suffering lmao 😭

masterlist

You've been following the news ever since you first saw that the 118 was at the scene of the small boy trapped in the well. You had nothing better to do, and if you had the chance to watch your husband work? You took it.

What you weren't expecting almost an hour ago was the drastic changes and complications arising as they tried getting Hayden - the trapped boy - out.

The obnoxious news reporter is talking about the weather and what's happening but you've stopped listening long ago. Your eyes were transfixed onto the background where Eddie was getting ready to go down the second tunnel they'd made in order to reach the boy safely.

However, something wasn't right. You don't know if it's Hen’s nervous expression or the overall unease of the team that carries through the screen, but something feels off.

You bury your hands in your hair as you continue to watch. The rain is pouring hard, the mud seems to be making everything worse and there were more firefighters arriving at the scene by the minute.

You're basically praying when the cameraman zoomes past the news reporter and onto Eddie as he's being let down into the hole. Evan is behind the winch, brows furrowed. You could see it on his face too; noone in the team seemed to be happy with this.

Considering they were letting one of their own down a 30 foot drop without fully knowing how stable the ground was, you understood.

For the first time since the broadcast started the blonde is quiet, microphone held at her chest as she watches and waits to see what's going to happen.

You're quite literally on the edge of your seat, knees pressing into the couch table as your hands press together anxiously. You trusted Bobby. He would never allow a plan to go through if it wasn't thoroughly planned and ensured at least a certain amount of safety to his team.

Nevertheless, your eyes move to Buck. He's clenching the remote control of the winch so tight in his hands you're sure if the material weren't as slippery from the rain he would've broken it. He doesn't just look stressed anymore but anxious.

That's a look you don't see often; he's confident and stubborn (arguably stupid and reckless). If he does something he commits to it and he's sure of it. But right now? He's the opposite. Bobby has a hand on his shoulder and you're thankful for his sensitivity to Buck’s feelings, the silent comforting visibly (to you - who could read Evan like an open book) helping him.

“Come on,” you chant under your breath as minutes pass. How could this be taking so long? Wasn't there a limited amount of time Eddie could be down there? You're sure he was wearing an oxygen tank and you remember Evan talking about the limited time that posed.

“And what is that- the rope has seemingly snapped! Neither the boy or the firefighter of the 118 is back up,” the news reporter is almost yelling now and you're thankful for her awful screeching voice as it had made you listen to what she's saying.

Wait. Did she say the rope snapped?

You frown and stand up, unable to keep sitting as you spot Evan’s devastated look as he discusses something with Chim. Oh goodness. This isn't happening. Why is the rope the only thing coming back up?

“The weather is getting worse as the firefighters decide to send down a second one, hoping this time the rope works. We're expecting a thunderstorm and the rain will continue-” you blend her out again as you see Chimney now in Eddie's spot.

“Jesus,” you mumble. He's down in a second, everyone moving even faster than before. Evan had his fists stemmed on his hip, watching the descent of his friend. Knowing him as well as you did, you're almost one hundred percent sure Buck had discussed going down instead - no doubt being shut down by either Hen or Bobby.

You couldn't help but feel glad he hadn't been the one as you could continue keeping your eyes on him.

It's Bobby's eyes which widen first, jaw dropping. Next follow Hen and lastly Evan. There, secured on the rope is Chim with a tiny boy wrapped in some kind of foil that would help him get his body temperature up again. His mother is crying as she welcomes him back into her arms, your lips quirking into a smile at the wholesome scene.

Now only Eddie was missing.

The 118 was discussing something in the back when you decide to text Bobby, seeing Evan being reprimanded by said man.

I'll come over and stay out of the way - just gotta make sure Buck does nothing too stupid…

You text the captain and receive a thumbs up emoji a moment later. You grab your phone, keys and wallet before hurrying to your car and driving there.

When you arrive your glad for the raincoat you'd picked, pulling it tight around your body as you try finding a spot where you wouldn't be in anyone's way.

You find it soon enough, and the first thing you notice is something akin to an argument breaking out between Hen and your husband. You sigh and hope he wouldn't do anything reckless, because by God that was his specialty. Bobby pats his shoulder more aggressively than necessary and points in your direction.

Buck turns around and when he spots you his face practically melts; excusing himself as he jogs over to the fence you'd decided to stand.

“How is it going? Where is Eddie?” You ask almost immediately and Evan sighs heavily before frowning again. You press your thumb against his forehead and smooth out the worry wrinkles, him already so used to the gesture he barely notices.

“He's- he's trapped. He cut his rope for some reason and we can't reach him over the radio. We're sending someone else down to see what happened down there.”

You curse and slide your hand to rest on his cheek. His skin is cold and wet from the rain and you're certain he caught a cold by now.

“You're not going,” you say. It's a question and demand at the same time; you trust him to do the right thing but he easily becomes reckless. He didn't like when you pointed it out, but it was true. It had gotten you two into an argument more than a handful of times but he never ceased to be stubborn when on a call.

“What do you mean? Of course I'm going, Eddie's down there!” He huffs and stiffens, leaning away from your hand on his face in the same notion. “Evan,” you start and he looks up from his feet and into your eyes, the pleading look in his eyes making you melt a little.

“I know you're capable of doing this but-”

“No! I'm capable so why shouldn't I?” He interrupts and you unhappily note the reporter approaching. You glare at him before putting on a fake smile when the woman stops in front of the two of you.

“Do you have a minute?” She asks and you almost roll your eyes at the flirty tone she regards your husband with.

He smiles shortly and excuses himself, looking at you meaningfully before going back to the rest of his team. She turns to you and before you can escape she starts talking, the camera right in your face. Great. You'd been ready for bed when you decided to drive here (and look accordingly) and now you're on national news.

“How do you know him? What did you talk about? There seemed to be some tension.” She makes an oohing noise and this time you can't contain your eye roll. “I was simply talking to my husband. Now excuse me please,” you see the shocked look on her face and she nervously adjusts her hair before turning back to the camera.

“Evan Buckley!” You say loud enough that not only Bobby but Hen and Chim turn around as well, eyebrows raised in surprise at your presence. The one you actually addressed was currently busy getting into a harness.

You stand behind him, mumbling thanks to Bobby when he steadies you as your feet slip on the mud and wet ground. “What do you think you're doing?”

Buck looks at you over his shoulder, red goggles on his face and similar gear to what Eddie had worn. “My job,” he grunts and you sigh exasperatedly. “I see that, I have two eyes.” Frankly you didn't want to be this upset. He wasn't special as in he should get special treatment; the team risked their lives daily all the same.

But you were scared. You'd seen it many times; he'd get an idea and pull through with it, no matter what anyone says or what the odds are. It simply pisses you off that he never thinks of anyone else.

He acts like no one cares whether he lives or dies and that's what's really bothering you, once again as he is getting ready to go down.

The desperation must be visible on your face because Bobby's comforting hand moves to your shoulder and you exhale and look at him, lips quivering.

“I'm sorry I shouldn't be bothering here, I don't know what came over me.” You apologize and suck up the tears stemming from foreboding fear.

He shakes his head, “It's okay, you know we'll tell you if you're in the way.” You nod and wrap your arms around yourself, ready to at least tell Buck you loved him before he went down.

You flinch at the Crack of the thunder. And then there's white sparks everywhere as the lightning strikes the crane, causing the LED lights to fail and cast everything in darkness. There's screaming and you just barely see Buck unclasping his harness before his arms wrap around your waist and he throws himself backward.

You scream as you cling to his arm, utterly confused until the crane creaks horribly and starts falling. It looks and feels as if it's in slow motion but it gets faster the closer it comes and then it lands on the earth with a loud booming sound.

You heave in shock at the whole thing until Buck let's go of you and runs the few steps to the well.

And that's when you see it. Your face falls and your pulse accelerates when there's not one or two holes but none. Someone to your left yells that the ground collapsed and over the ringing in your ears you see Buck kneeling over the spot as he claws at the mud, screaming in vain.

You whimper when the realization comes that Eddie is still down there. Under pounds if not tons of earth with no way out. You Clasp a hand over your mouth as tears fall down your face. Eddie would make it, you convince yourself in order to calm down enough to think rationally - especially to be there for who needed you most right now.

“Baby, come on, you'll save him but you need to come this isn't safe,” you urge as you tug at Bucks shoulders. He resists, muscles straining as he keeps digging only for every hole he makes to be filled with more mud. “Evan, please,” you cry and he snaps out of it, heavily breathing as he turns around to look at you.

He's crying and you can see the pure desperation and fear replaying on his face. “Inside! We need to discuss plans!” Bobby yells and makes a motion with his hand before all of the remaining 118 hurries after him and into the house.

“Let's go, yeah? They're thinking of a way to find him,” you repeat to your devastated husband. He whimpers and tries to say something as he weakly claws at the earth, you shush him and pull him into your chest, uncaring of the mud and dirt covering you both now.

“He'll be okay. You know Eddie. He would never leave Christopher alone.” he shakily nods and moves his hand to your hips to squeeze them. He knocks his forehead against yours and you can feel his exhaustion as he leans fully onto you.

“Buck you gotta calm down and focus. You can do that, right?” He nods dazedly and you move your hand onto the nape of his neck, cupping it to ground him.

“Eddie needs you. Focus. No stupid or reckless decisions.” He manages a tiny glare at you before he closes his eyes and inhales deeply, opening them when he's ready. There's new determination cursing through him as he stands up and pulls you to stand with him.

The pouring rain sticks his hair onto his forehead and you swear he's the most beautiful person to walk this earth. His blue eyes wander over your face and he seems to find what he was looking for when he presses a tender kiss to your lips, nose and forehead.

“I'm sorry I just- I can't lose him. Chris can't lose him,” he mumbles and you nod in understanding. “Shh, I know.” You keep your hand to cup his face for a moment and then sigh, ushering him towards the house. He frowns and pulls you with him but you smile and shake your head, “I'll go relieve Carla. I haven't seen Chris in a while anyway.”

He nods but is reluctant to let you go, kissing your forehead again and mumbling an ‘I love you’ into your skin. You smile and soothe your thumb over his knuckles, “I love you more. Be careful.” You say the last part with a warning but worried tone and glance at him with a small frown.

He huffs amused and pecks your temple before stepping back and adjusting the hood of your raincoat to sit tightly on your head, “I will be. Tell Chris I said hi and that I want to do a sleepover again.” You laugh and he does too for a second until his eyes and expression dull and the looming threat to Eddie's life moves back to the forefront of his thoughts.

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, mumbling something and then looking up again. He begins to say something when a commotion to the side drowns his voice out. Confused you both turn around and his arm slips around your waist to keep you close - a habit you adored.

“What?” You mumble. The huddle of people clears and in the middle is Eddie - his arms are limply slung over two other firefighters’ shoulders and his head is hanging down. His entire gear is dripping wet as if he'd gone for a swim (well technically he probably did… you note mentally as the positive shock wears off). His helmet and goggles are missing, hair sticking to his forehead and most worryingly his eyes are bloodshot and red, earth and mud dirtying his usually clear skin.

“What..?” Evan breathes out and his arm drops from around you as he runs over to his best friend and carelessly pulls him into a hug. You see Eddie's smile as he rests his head in the crook of Evan's neck, sluggishly moving his arms around the others shoulders to hold himself up. The two men who had helped him hover for a second in case their help was needed again but when Evan keeps clinging to the older they retreat.

Then you feel Hen, Bobby and Chimney rush past you - the two paramedics with their first aid bags. You're unsure whether to put your plan from a moment ago into reality or if you could be of help here when Buck starts dragging Eddie along and over to you.

With a stressed sigh you approach them, stopping a foot in front of them with a warning glance, “You both should get in the ambulance and let these two,” you point to Hen and Chim, “do their job. No wandering around, boys.”

Evan pouts and Eddie manages a chuckle that still clearly showcases how tired out and overall done he is but you welcome it nevertheless. “You're like, way too strict. He basically just drowned,” Evan starts, and both you and Eddie roll your eyes - you in fond annoyance and Eddie in amusement.

“Wow. Why do I always get the attitude?” He huffs and side eyes you as he drags Eddie to the ambulance but not before mouthing another ‘I love you’.

Shaking your head you pull down the hood of your coat and nod at Bobby, signaling him you were going to leave now. He nods and turns back to whatever important duties he had now.

After a last glance into the ambulance (where Buck actually sat still for once) you get your keys and drive off. The drive to Chris and Eddie is only about half an hour and when you get there you still see the light in the kitchen on. This was unusual - normally Carla would just watch some TV with the lights off when she waited until early in the morning for Eddie to come back.

You knock on the front door and wait, the older woman opening the door with a wide smile, “Thought I saw you approach. I saw you on the news, you wanna tell me what that's about, girl?”

You laugh and shake your head, reciprocating the warm hug and stepping into the house. “It's pretty boring. Thought I'd spend the night here today, Eddie will probably not be home tonight or tomorrow…” You solemnly explain and she hums.

“Saw it on the news. And.. for some reason he did too,” she sighs heavily and walks you to the living room. And surely there is Christopher perched on the sofa with a worried little frown on his forehead as he watches the news.

You furrow your brows and nod, “Did he see it all?” She nods again and you understand why the little boy wasn't in bed although it was nearing two in the morning when his usual bedtime is nine thirty.

“Chris? Hey, buddy!” You smile and ruffle his hair. He grins at you in that adorable way and you wave at Carla over his shoulder as she grabs her bag and keys. “You wanna explain why you aren't in bed?” He looks a bit guilty but pouts stubbornly. “I saw dad on the news.”

You didn't really need more explanation - you knew Chris worried for his father in the same manner Eddie was probably currently thinking about his son.

“I saw him too. And you know what?” He looks at you with big but tire, dropping eyes. “He's with some nice doctors now and he's gonna be completely fine again very quickly. Doesn't that sound good?”

He ponders for a moment and then slowly nods, “Buck?” A chuckle escapes you and you grin, “He's fine too.”

“Then why were you angry with him?” He asks and it takes you embarrassingly long to connect the dots. The news reporter seemingly had shown your and Evans little dispute earlier. “I wasn't angry with him he was just being stupid,” you shake your head and explain.

Chris hums and looks back at the news report. You bite your lip in thought and then tilt your head, “Do you want to talk to Buck?” Christopher basically lights up and nods eagerly clasping his hands under his chin as you video call Evan - praying he was still with Eddie and that in a few minutes Christopher would be calmed enough to finally go to bed.

“Baby? Don’t worry I’m fine the doctors just checked me out,” he’s slumped in a hospital chair in a way you know will have him complaining about his neck hurting tomorrow and his eyes are just as droopy and tired as the ones of the boy next to you.

“That’s good. There’s someone who really wants to talk to you.” Chris squeezes into the frame and you chuckle before handing him the phone, watching Bucks face light up as he sees him, “Chris! Hi, bud! What are you still doing up?”

Said boy giggles and starts recounting his evening. You start cleaning up a bit meanwhile, getting everything ready for Chris to go to sleep and for Eddie to return home without going straight to cleaning (because he would and that man really needs to rest for once).

The living room gets suspiciously quiet and you put down the kitchen towel and plate to check up on the two boys. “Chris?” Your heart melts when you see him laying down on the sofa with your phone clutched in your hand, still on the call and showing your husband also napping.

You gently take the phone and put it on the table to briskly talk to Evan after putting Chris to bed. Then you put an arm under his back and the other under his knees to carry him to his room. Luckily Christopher doesn’t wake up and you quickly tuck him in before leaving the room with the door opened a bit.

You turn off the lights except for the small lamp next to the sofa and pull a blanket up to your chin with your phone back in your hand.

“Buck?” He grunts in his sleep and the phone slips from his hand until it’s laying on the hospital bed and you huff a quiet laugh.

“Alright, I love you.” You whisper and hang up, quickly texting him to tell you when Eddie would be back.

The next morning you wake up to someone poking your cheek repeatedly and before remembering where you were you almost turn around and continue sleeping.

Then a small but very much insistent voice calls your name.

You squint your eyes at the light streaming in from the sun, the shadow keeping your eyes from being blinded belongs to Chris. “We need to visit Dad.” He decides in a sure voice. You stretch and sit up, reaching out to gently make him sit down as well.

“Visit him? I don’t know if we can yet I’ll have to ask the doctors…” Chris huffs unhappily and you nod in understanding. “I know, but you’ll see him soon.” Reaching for your phone you stop in your tracks when there’s a thump at the door before two voices can be heard throughout the hallway and into the living room.

Christopher looks at you with a confused look and your nervousness evaporates when you hear an exclaimed curse and another voice scolding him after. Well, that could only be your husband and the only one Chris wanted to see right now.

“Dumb and dumber are here,” you whisper to Chris and he giggles. After Bobby had called them that once Chris had picked it up and now it was kind of an inside joke between him and almost all of the 118 - to the displeasure of the two guys.

He holds his arms out and you pick him up, sneaking to the door to watch as one of them seems to try and get the key to fit into the designated spot.

“Let’s let them in?” The boy in your arms nods and you open the door, staring at Eddie and Evan with raised eyebrows. “You guys should never try robbing someone.”

Bucks jaw drops in offense and you can practically see the rebuttal on his face but he keeps it to himself and simply holds up two plastic bags, “We got breakfast.”

Chris is busy reaching for Eddie who seemed a bit unsteady on his feet but other than visible bruises he looked fine. You smile at him and pat his shoulder as he walks inside, kissing his son's head and gently murmuring about something as you focus on Evan.

“Morning,” you finally greet and lean up for a kiss, Evan gratefully giving you one. He grins down at you and then at the boy in your arms, “Chris! Did you protect her all night?” He asks with an exaggerated voice and you laugh and roll your eyes but take the plastic bags with food from him and pass Chris into his arms.

You leave the two to themselves as you look at Eddie and sigh before hugging him, “You scared us half to death yesterday.” He shrugs and grins “What else would I be doing other than stress you guys out?”

Your jaw momentarily drops and he grins with a shrug and fakes sympathy as he pats your shoulder. You two walk into the kitchen to prepare the food onto plates.

“How are you? Be honest,” you warningly add, fully aware of his habit to minimize his worries and pains same as your husband.

“Sore. Probably added some trauma to the collection.” He jokes and you look at him over your shoulder with a glare that makes him laugh. “No really. I’m fine. Just needed some rest and the bruises will go away with time.”

Nodding, you cross your arms over your chest and catch a glimpse of Buck holding Chris up and pretending to be an airplane. “How is he? He was ready to dig the earth up with his own hands when you got trapped.” You sigh.

Eddie nods and shakes his head, “Yeah, no he was pretty worried. I got quite the lecture when I woke up.” You both laugh at that and then you pass him two plates while taking the other two, “Let’s eat breakfast.”

When you’re home that evening you both are dead tired and yet Buck insists on carrying you up the stairs and helping you change into your pajamas (though you’re sure that was just for his enjoyment).

“I have tomorrow and the day after off. You know what that means? All day in bed,” he grins as he flops down onto the mattress next to you. With a smile you comb your hand through his hair and smooth your thumb along his temple.

“You definitely need to rest.” You agree and he turns his head to look at you, “Nope. I need you. So you better call in sick as long as I’m off.”

You huff at his demanding tone, raise both eyebrows and lean back on your elbows. The mattress and pillows make you groan in comfort as you concentrate your gaze onto him.

He was halfway laying down on his side with his arm propped up under him. He was wearing some black shorts and a dark blue t-shirt that was too tight around his biceps. His eye bags are worse than usual and you can tell since that night Eddie almost died he hasn't been sleeping well. His hair is an adorable mess and you don't refrain from reaching out and gently carding your hand through it.

He hums and closes his eyes with a small smile tugging on his lips. “I'll call in sick,” he perks up and opens his eyes again, a smirk replacing his earlier smile before you interrupt, “But only because I can actually feel that I'm getting a cold and not because you're asking me to.” He pouts and it goes unsaid by either of you that he played a big part in you taking some sick days.

After all, you usually put your health on the back burner, focusing on your job and other things like grocery shopping. Buck had always had a problem with that, lecturing you whenever he came home to see you passed out on the couch with tissues around you and a mountain of blankets keeping him from being able to throw himself on top of you.

“Alright, baby. I'm gonna be Doctor Buckley!” He grins and sits up, dusting off his shoulders and puffing out his chest. The action makes you burst into laughter and you fall on your back. He takes that as an invitation to lean over you and pretend to check your airways and pulse, pressing his ear over your sternum.

“You're so childish,” you comment and he happily ignores you to convert his checking of your breathing to laying on your chest with an arm wound around your waist.

It grows quiet and there's a comfortable atmosphere as you play with his hair while he snoozes on your abdomen.

Maybe you wouldn't mind being sick for a few days if this is the doctor taking care of you.

#evan buckley x reader #evan buckley #9 1 1 fanfiction #911 fanfic #911 show #oliver stark #eddie diaz

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theold-ultraviolence · 1 year

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Sleepy sex with modern aemond while there’s a thunderstorm outside 😭 the dream

THE LITERAL DREAM. Listen, I have tons of wips to work on but my hand slipped and this was too good of a scenario a;lkdsjflkjfgslkgj. Have this short little blurb!! CW: PIV sex but it's super vague and not explicit at all. Words: 548.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, gazing at the pouring rain outside, sighing to himself because he won’t be able to go out on his morning run. Not that he was all that willing to do that anyway. Not when his joints ached so deliciously from having had sex with you last night.

You hadn’t done it all week because work had been extra tiring, so when Friday rolled around, you snatched his portfolio away and told him in between urgent kisses that you had ordered his favorite takeout, that it would get here in 30 minutes, and that you planned on using them thoroughly.

He closes his eye and lets himself be soothed by the sound of the rain, and then there’s a warm chest draping onto his back. Even warmer, softer lips peppering kisses along each freckle on his shoulder blades and neck. “You’re not planning on going out for your run, are you?”

“Hmmm…” He leans his head back, exposing more of his neck for you. The part of his brain that’s addicted to routine is urging him out of the cozy sheets. His favorite pair of Adidas sneakers are right in front of him.

But then, you feel so damn good. Love pours from your every caress and kiss - love laced with mischief, when you whisper into his ear.

“If you’re so desperate for a workout why don’t you fuck me instead?”

Every fine hair on his body stands. You untangle from him to lay on your back and make grabby hands at him, with all your curves bare, except for your midriff covered by the fine linen sheets. And it’s not that detail that finally pushes him to fit himself on top of you, grinding in between your legs.

It’s the sleepy look on your eyes, still heavy, still clinging onto your dreams as you wrap your arms around him and open up your legs for him. He smirks when he curiously slips a finger inside of you, feeling you already dripping for him, even in your hazy state.

He knows you’re the one for him, because he’s just the same. It didn’t take him a second to get hard at all – it’s just how crazy he is for you. He’s immensely glad and reassured to know you’re just as much of a fool in love with him. He'll never stop feeling grateful and even a little bit surprised everytime, even after all the years you've been together by now.

Thrusting inside is so easy, welcomed by soft thighs snaking around his lower back to keep him close. So, so easy, when you’re kissing him all lazy and sweet. It’s so easy to let his mind go blank, to zero in on the sound of the thunderstorm outside and your quiet moans and the wet noises each time he plunges inside, the quick sound of skin slapping against skin every time he buries himself to the hilt.

He fucks you as slow as the light drizzle that remains after the worst of the storm subsides, with your tender kisses echoing each falling raindrop. And after he cums inside, after he’s swallowed every one of your faint whines and moans, he can’t remember why he even considered going out in the first place.

In fact, he thinks he's gonna spend the whole day buried inside of you. After all, the forecast had promised that the rain wouldn’t cease until monday.

#aemond targaryen #modern!aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen drabbles #aemond targaryen blurb #my writing #modern au #reader insert fanfiction #hotd #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell

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the-xolotl · 4 months

Text

Thundering Rain

Qí Yù | Rafayel x Reader

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: You and Rafayel cozy up during a cold storm to enjoy each other’s company when you realize he got up for something but didn’t come back to cuddle you.

—• TAGS: Domestic fluff, kinda ooc Rafayel (? if you squint), no use of Y/N, use of the pet name my love, beta read (imagine that)

A thunderstorm had been raging outside for hours now and you are thankful, for once, about the harsh seasonal changes because not just did you enjoy the rain and the majestic flashing of light that occasionally lit up the otherwise dark gray sky, you didn’t have to go to work. You could enjoy a leisure day indoors, listening to the calming sound of the rain hitting the window and the deep thunder clapping after each rapid flash of light with a warm blanket and hot beverages.

It’s true you loved your job, loved the adrenaline of being a hunter, the thrill of battle, but it was nice to sit back and relax for a bit. And some reprieve was definitely due after these past few weeks, Linkon City had been seeing more and more Wanderers roaming inside the more civilian populated areas, your team along with some back ups had been dispatched as first responders almost every time; it’s been busy to say the least.

And Rafayel had definitely not appreciated your constant absence. You don’t blame him, you missed him too. Because your job wasn’t just turning monsters to dust and protecting innocent people; each attack meant a lot of paperwork, desk work, meetings. It meant time away from home and away from your already clingy, needy lover.

Who, speaking of, had suspiciously gotten up from cuddling you in the sofa and hadn’t come back.

The now cool spot behind you made you realize his absence. But as you were about to get up to look for the purple-head you heard his voice, “Stay where you are, how you are, for another 30 minutes…” Rafa trailed off.

He didn’t even ask politely yet you remained on your spot no questions asked and turned your head back to look outside the large, tall window that gave the perfect view to the backyard. “So that’s where you’ve been the whole time,” you chuckled softly, of course he was.

“Inspiration should never be wasted or ignored. The best master pieces ever created were in spontaneous bursts of creativity,” He stated as if it was the most honest to god truth. Yeah, alright.

Amused you simply retorted, “Is that a fact?”

“Most likely,” he shot back before taking a small pause, “Besides, you barely noticed after almost an entire hour I didn’t come back beside you.”

The last part sounded more begrudging, you didn’t have to look at him to know he’s pouting. You couldn’t help but giggle, “Yeah, my back was getting cold. That’s how I noticed you were still gone.” Rafa let out the most offended scoff, he didn’t even dignify with an answer.

The room falls silent again save for the rhythmic pattering of rain, it’s then you realize he’s actually concentrating and you can’t help the little leap your heart makes. “Are you painting me?”

“As I was coming back from the kitchen the scene and atmosphere looked perfect so I just had to capture it,” he explains, “I haven’t had the opportunity to play around with darker tones or paints in a while and I recently acquired some very high quality materials to produce stunning shades. Very rare finds, honestly.” The Lemurian continued on to explain how and where he’d manage to obtain them, of course pointedly mentioning that he needed something to do in your absence because it was just so so boring.

More than half an hour had past, that’s for sure, as you filled the time with more banter and teasing remarks.

“Rafa can I move now? I’m going to have neck pain and be stuck in this position forever if I don’t get up soon,” you whine loudly, “The painting won’t be needed to immortalize this moment then.” He only tsk’s at you, calling you over to see the painting.

“Holy shit you weren’t kidding, the pigments are so rich!” You know little to nothing about art, any scattered knowledge or artsy lingo has definitely come from listening to your boyfriend talk about art. You study the painting detail by detail, from top to bottom. He really does deserve the fame, not that you’re biased.

Rafayel smiles big like a satisfied cat (ironically) at your praise and expression of awe.

Though the more you steady the painting the more you realize the gloomy tempest going out outside was definitely not the focus of this piece like you had originally thought, despite the fact that the oversized window gave the perfect opportunity to capture it so.

Instead you realize most of the spotlight was you. Rafayel had clearly taken his time; each curve of your features was perfectly drawn and shaded, the way the light made light and dark contrasts against the little skin that was not covered by the quilt, the shine in your eyes that reflected the lighting that occasionally flashed and the hair that framed your face. The content of your expression clearly denoting how engrossed you’ve been on the weather outside, he even included the faintest curl of the corner of your lip. And you looked cozy as hell with the blanket all the way tucked up to your chest and your hands wrapped around the (then) steaming mug of coffee.

A heat crept up your cheeks and chest. Is this how he saw you? Is this what his eyes see when he looks at you? Truly? You must’ve had your thoughts written in your face because he breaks the long silence with in a soft voice, “You are the inspiration of the painting, my love,” circling back to one of his earlier comments. You turn to face him fully, meeting eyes as he was already looking at you, as soft smile that matched the softness of his voice spread across his lips.

“It’s going to be part of the next exhibit, on a very special spot.”

“I’m sorry what?” You lamely ask, astonished but still in a monotone.

Rafayel had the audacity to laugh in your face as he gave the cavas a few strokes with the brush to accentuate some shadows. “It’s not finished yet, of course. I will accept no less than perfection,” he says slowly, words as methodical as his painting technique, “Specially when it comes to you.”

If you weren’t blushing before you sure are now. You shove him gently when he takes the brush off the painting, attempting and failing to hide how much he managed to fluster you.

Another long pause passed, but this felt more intimate, watching him closely add some details, switch between different size brushes for finer details. Rafayel sure went into his own bubble when he worked, yet he is always somehow very aware of his surroundings. At least at the moment he was.

“Not a lot of people get the privilege to watch me like this, so up close, let alone live. Are you feeling how privileged you are?” The tone of playful arrogance brings you back and pops the bubble of comfortable silence. But it does make you giggle.

These little moments make you fall deeper in love with him.

⟢ A/N: feels kinda funny posting my writing for the first time in the internet tbh. i usually only write for my friends/myself so i hope you enjoy my lil rot. it’s been raining so much in my area it gives me a very cozy vibe.

—

⤷ dividers : cafekitsune ✰

#love and deepspace #rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #qi yu x reader #qi yu #fanfic #writters on tumblr #fandom #domestic fluff #painting #oneshot #lnds #character x reader #romantic #romance #rain

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shayyprasad · 5 months

Text

stormy weather | tom holland

summary: right after an arguement with tom, you find yourself quaking during a storm.

warnings: panic attack, slight angst (angst to fluff), thunderstorms, cursing, alcohol

pairing: tom holland x reader

you huffed angrily as you threw your clutch onto the couch. "no, no, because you so clearly-"

"jeez! let it go! i was late, by what? like, 5 minutes?"

"try 3-fucking-0, thomas! 30 minutes late! and it wasn't even traffic. you didn't forget, i know you didn't! you chose not to show up."

catching the slight wince on his face, you groaned. it was always them, his friends, no matter what, they came first everytime. you hoped, maybe just for once, he'd see you. he'd pick you.

but no. nope. he didn't. and you felt so pathetic for it. for god's sake, you couldn't remember the last time he took time off to spend with you.

but since it was so rare, the thought of it even happening was insane.

he threw his hands up, "well, i don't know what you want me to tell you. it's my break. i think i'll spend it however the fuck i want, alright?"

"and that's fine! but you promised you'd be there! that you'd show up!"

"look, y/n," the name sounded weird on his tongue, foreign, almost. tom always called you some sort of pet name. "it's my off, and i hardly ever get those. sorry if i don't want to spend it with my clingy-ass girlfriend who does nothing but lounge around on the sofa all day sleeping," tom scoffed, pulling a beer out of the fridge.

you drew back slightly, words stinging. and what was he doing, having a beer in the middle of an- an... arguement? wasn’t he late because he was at the pub?

and you didn't spend all day on the couch sleeping. tom insisted that it would be okay if you didn't have a job, so you did household things.

did the laundry, dishes, cooked, cleaned, bought food, all of it.

maybe it wasn't as big as his job... but it was still important, right?

right?

so, basically, to sum up your lovely boyfriend's words, you were useless.

"i- that's not-... i don't do that." okay, you needed a bigger arsenal of better responses.

"you know what? i think i'd rather be useless then go around sucking up beer and degrading people, such as your girlfriend, just beacause i don't have anywhere else to go to let off steam."

fine, so it wasn't the best, but it was something.

you stormed up to your room, and he followed right after. "where are you going?"

grabbing a pillow from the bed, you shoved it in his face, "you, dude, are sleeping on the couch," you gave him your best sarcastic smile, but it probably didn't work out great with mascara stains running down your cheeks.

and then you slammed the door in his face, waiting for any type of protest, but you heard receding footsteps, knowing he left. you turned and pressed your back to the door, sliding down it. you sniffed and slid down it, pulling you knees to your chest.

that was probably one of the worst fights you had in a while.

not with tom, but just in general. you just didn't get why he wasn't trying harder. he used to do everything he could to spend more time with you. and now?

pfft.

when was the last date night? well, it was supposed to be tonight, but that didn't work out. on top of it all, he'd brang his friends to your date.

they were all drunk and stupid, giggling like boys at the restraunt. it was so embarrassing to drag them all out, and have to call them an uber.

and the entire time, everyone (and of course it was a busy night today, of all times) watched as you had to practically manhandle them.

for godsakes, you weren't their mother.

but either way, you weren't as upset with them as you were with tom. you didn't even want to think about how they got to the restraunt. all the boys were at least tipsy when they got there.

they took an uber here, you told yourself.

you jumped up, hearing a clap of thunder.

no.

no way.

of all the times for the fate to have bestow a storm on you, why did it have to be now.

a stike of lightning flashed out in the room, illuminating it momentarily.

yelping, you jumped onto the bed, hiding under the blanket. you knew you probably seemed ever so childish, but you couldn’t help it. you were absolutely terrified of storms. there was something about them (the uncertainty, maybe?) that left you trembling in the knees.

normally, tom would stay by you, curled up at your side. he’d joke around and whisper sweet nothings in your ear to calm you down.

but he wasn’t quite here for that, now was he?

i can ride it out.

however, as soon as you heard another crack of thunder, you knew that might not work.

you whimpered quietly, working on calming your breathing. squeezing your sides, you pretended tom was right next to you, telling you to breath in and out.

hot tears slid down your cheeks, and while you were wearing one of his old, loose shirts, the collar felt like it was choking you.

strangled breaths left your mouth, and your eyes were shut tight.

you just barely heard the door creak open, "oh, darling, i know that i'm the last person you'd ever want to speak to right now, but i can't leave you."

tom slid into bed beside you, wrapping his strong arms around you. "i'm right here, love. you're okay. i promise, you're okay," he cooed as you cried into his chest.

soon enough, your muffled sobs ceased, and the tightness around your throat seemed to go away. you were more aware of your surroundings, such as tom. he smelt lightly of sweat, and you could smell beer.

instantly, you pulled away from him.

"sorry," you muttered. "you can go now."

"no, wait. can we talk?"

"we are."

"okay, smart-ass," he tried to joke, but quickly dropped it with an apology once he saw your unamused face.

"you have absolutely every right to be mad at-"

"i am."

his smile faultered, and you sighed.

"please hear me out," tom begged.

"i- okay. fine."

"i don't expect you to forgive me, angel. i messed up, big time. i put things that shouldn't come before you first. because trust me, you do come first. i- i just. i've been really stressed, and i know that's not an excuse but...

"it- it doesn't matter, but i shouldn't have taken it out on you. you've been one of the only people that's been there for me through all this, and i can't thank you enough.

"the point is, i've been a jerk, and you're some type of goddess for putting up with me. i'm really sorry i've been blowing you off. you're right, i didn't even realize i was doing it until you told me."

you frowned, "i shouldn't have had to tell you." you obviously forgave him, because how could you not?

"i know, you're right. and i promise that i'll show you how much from now on. oh, and i shouldn't have said that other stuff about you, either. what you do around here is just as important. seriously, this place would fall apart without you." he paused, "i love you. so much."

smiling, "i love you, too. and thank you for apologizing. i forgive you."

"show you how much," he murmured, trailing kisses on your jaw, "how much i love you right now, in fact."

#tom holland x reader #tom holland #fluff #angst #angst with a happy ending #tw panic attack #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you

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noturlondonboy · 2 days

Text

Nails on the Chalkboard of My Heart

Wenclair Oneshot

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Enid Sinclair

Summary: It’s a dark and stormy night… and Wednesday decides to paint Enid’s nails in an effort to help the werewolf calm down. Fluffy confessions and silly gay girl antics ensue.

A/N: I really did love writing this one, I love blorbos painting each other’s nails. They’re so stinking cute. Enjoy!

Warnings: that good ole lesbian make out sesh don’t ya know

It was storming outside when Wednesday returned back to the dorm to find a shivering Enid tucked away under the covers. The lightning and thunder had been going raucously for about an hour now, and the walls shook from the force of the wind. Wednesday almost smiled at the rain lashing the windows.

Setting her bag on her desk, Wednesday quickly changed into her hoodie and sweats while doing her best to ignore the whimpering coming from the other side of the room. Enid never did well during large thunderstorms. She had told her as such, even explaining that she was used to handling them just fine alone, as none of her family had ever bothered to comfort her. That tidbit has nagged restlessly at Wednesday, but she brushed it off and didn’t press questions.

Now, though, after 30 minutes of sitting silently in front of her typewriter with nothing to show for it, after 30 minutes of Enid crying softly under her thick blankets all alone, after 30 minutes of “my parents had better things to do than trying to get me to stop cowering” ringing through her head in Enid’s gentle diction, something in Wednesday’s chest gave a terrible ache. She ripped the useless paper from the machine in front of her and crumpled it with one hand before tossing it in the trash bin like it had personally offended her.

Thing appeared on her desk, somehow knowing he was about to be summoned. Wednesday nodded, turning to face him. “Enid’s noise canceling headphones broke last week after Xavier’s idiotic little stunt with the lunch trays. Grab my pair from under my bed and take them to her while I clean up,” she ordered quietly, already starting to tidy her desk back to how she liked it.

Morticia and Gomez had gifted them both a set of headphones once they had heard of Enid’s ADHD. They had already been preparing to do so after Wednesday’s official autism diagnosis, but hurried the purchase in order to supply them both before the new school year.

Thing gave a little one-fingered salute and scurried off to do what he was told, jolting at the lightning but giving no protest. The girl sighed and rolled her shoulders. The crick in her neck had grown especially agonizing over the last week, and while she normally enjoyed pain, this was more annoying than anything else.

There was muffled conversation from Enid, but her sounds of distress stopped while she presumably accepted the headphones and put them on. Wednesday closed her eyes, letting out a sigh from her nose. Maybe she could pretend to stall by reorganizing her entire bookshelf for the third time, when in reality all that was happening was a mental preparation for what she was about to do.

A strike of lightning pierced the night and rattled the walls, leaving the dorm room in momentary blackness. Enid lets out a shriek, her tears evident in the warble in her throat. But like a wraith, Wednesday is by her side the moment the lights come back on, unable to stop herself from holding back.

Another yelp from the Werewolf, who jumped and scrambled back on her bed. Wednesday reached forward quickly to cradle the girl’s face and pull her closer, her knees subsequently ending up on the colorful covers.

Enid freezes, tearful eyes wide, the black headphones askew on her head. They both hold their breaths, but Wednesday is the first to move, carefully taking her roommate’s hand to pull her back properly onto her own bed. Enid only obeys, expression dizzy as it darts between the point of contact and the lack of a scowl on the Latina’s face.

Once Enid is resettled, Wednesday busies herself with going through the drawers of her nightstand and desk. Her mind is running unfortunately much quicker than she likes, but her senses sharpen with each whimper from the puppy waiting for her just feet away.

Black and pink nail polish secured in her palm, she sits with her legs crossed in front of Enid and fixes the headphones back into place. The werewolf sat stockstill, only moving to flinch at the thunder.

“I’m going to turn some music on for you, and then I’m going to paint your nails, and we’re not going to talk- understood?” Wednesday says softly, pulling her rarely used phone from her pocket and opening up Spotify. Enid seems only capable of gaping, her wet cheeks glowing pink.

Wednesday presses play on a shared playlist of theirs (which mainly consisted of very limited Kpop, Cigarettes After Sex, Melanie Martinez, and classical cello arrangements) before setting her phone aside and putting her palm out. Enid stared at it for a moment before realizing what she wanted and giving her hand over.

They both jolted once their fingers met, but Wednesday just pulled Enid’s arm closer with a gentle reverence and uncapped one of the polishes to begin painting.

Enid watched her in silent awe, ears blessedly full of something other than the thunderstorm. Wednesday worked in careful precision, stroking one finger at a time to stimulate the claws that hid under the skin so she could coat the polish on. She did it in one full stroke, because she was an Addams and did everything perfectly, her dark eyes almost warm as she waited a moment for the paint to set before moving on to the next.

There was much to be said, of course, about the colors Wednesday had chosen. Pink and black, to symbolize the two of them, in a pattern of every-other.

A crash of thunder hit Nevermore, and Enid jumped at the vibrations as they rattled the wooden boards around them. Wednesday held her hands still, her thumb drawing slow circles into her wrists until she was calm again. When another loud bang had Enid’s claws slipping out involuntarily, the result of which was a red nick in Wednesday’s skin, the goth only pressed a kiss to Enid’s knuckles to steady her (and make her blush like a volcano?? C'mon Enid get it together) instead of lashing out like the werewolf had feared.

A bright flash set the world outside momentarily ablaze. Enid flinched and curled into herself, her hands pulling away from Wednesday to ball together close to her chest. When she came back around with the gentle melody of Apocalypse soothing her sensitive ears, Wednesday was hovering close, hands shaped like she would be cupping Enid’s cheeks if she just moved forward about two inches.

Enid watched her, blinking the tears away as her heart settled, and gave herself no time to think. She leaned forward and nestled her jaw into Wednesday Addams’ palms, the wonderful touch of skin on skin melting the fear away. Dark eyes bore into baby blues, and Wednesday idly wondered what her parents would say if they saw her like this, calm and warm and making a willing effort to provide comfort to someone such as Enid.

“You’re alright,” she whispered, even as she very well knew that Enid couldn’t hear her- though the girl’s eyes darted down to read her lips. “It can’t hurt you. Not while I’m here.”

And Enid watches as she always had, cheeks warm and marveling silently as Wednesday retracted, carefully cleaning any smudged polish before reapplying the color where it was needed. Once Enid’s nails were successfully painted, Wednesday held her fingers gingerly to blow on them until they were dry. Her breath was warm, and soothed the ache in her knuckles.

The two stared at each other, Enid taking the headphones off and setting them aside. The storm had thankfully dimmed to a drizzle. The pitter patter of the raindrops was soothing and much preferred over heavy thunder and lightning.

Wednesday felt her stomach roiling at the entire interaction. Who was she, Wednesday Addams, to be painting the nails of this strange girl? Who was she to calm and to help, when all her life, she had only been a dark thing of madness? Who was she… to Enid?

Wednesday was so caught up in her head that it took her a long moment to realize that Enid’s face had melted into a mask of awed serenity, and the expression was held only for Wednesday. The werewolf watched her so intensely that Wednesday could feel the cool water of her eyes, imagining what her fingers would do if pushed through impossibly soft golden hair.

“Thank you,” Enid suddenly breathed, her heart in her throat. Something was clawing away at her lungs, stealing her breath. Her very bones seemed to ring. “Thank you,” she said again, aching and aching for Wednesday to stay, to keep touching her, to touch her more.

Somehow, Wednesday saw that want, saw right through her as she always did and always would. She cleared her throat, her mouth suddenly very, very dry, the words burning on her tongue.

“Anything you wish of me, Enid, I will do. And if it is not what you desire, then I will leave you in peace, away from my darkness and pain that trails me as if a shadow forever imprinted. But you- I can’t…” She swallowed thickly. Enid’s eyes were wide, a blush rising on her freckled cheeks. Wednesday desperately wanted to touch them. “I believe that I have fallen victim to the Addams Family curse, to love fiercely and everlastingly. I can feel it swelling within me, a heart I didn’t know I had.”

Wednesday didn’t really know what she was doing, why she was saying this. But the words had started and her chest had screamed so desperately for what it truly wanted, what it had been waiting for all this time.

“I think… that you have entranced me, utterly entranced me in every way any wicked woman could think of.” Another swallow, tightening the hold their fingers had on each other. Enid’s face was a furnace, her lips parted and heart beating furiously.

How did she respond to this? How did she explain to Wednesday that she had discovered that her darker counterpart and undying crush was her mate only weeks ago, a revelation that had sent her into a tizzy so bad she had been bedridden for hours? She wasn’t sure she even remembered how to speak.

Wednesday’s pupils were blown wide, her eyes large and dark and swallowing Enid whole. She wanted to be laid to rest in those eyes. But Wednesday heard no response, and her mind faltered. She had been so sure in that moment that her wolf would return the affection, would recognize the confession for what it was. The plea in her voice, the promise to do and be anything Enid asked.

“If you- if you do not feel the same way, Enid, I would understand, and I would not blame you. Turn me away and I would trek to the edges of the Earth if that is where you want me. But if you wish for me to stay… I am devoted to you, to your happiness, your pleasure, your mind and soul. I am caught in your beastly claws and yours to do with what you will.” And she waited, her ribs throbbing as her heart pumped blood harshly through her. Wednesday Addams laid herself out for the first time in her miserable life, completely true and bare for someone else.

How had painting nails turned into this? What could have possibly possessed her today?

Enid, in turn, was still doing her best to wrap her poor little gay head around Wednesday’s words. This was too good to be true, it- it couldn’t possibly be real. And normally if she were called beastly by anyone else, she would claw their face off. But with Wednesday calling her that… Shit. It honest to gods turned her on.

She opened her mouth as if to speak, but closed it again with absolutely no idea what to say. But… did she even really need words? Wednesday was stating this verbally because she knew it was the best way to get through to Enid. The darker girl had always shown her true feelings through actions, but to get through her thick werewolf skull, the words were easiest.

Enid thought she should return the favor. Tell Wednesday that she felt the same, show her she felt the same. That she would push herself to every possible limit for Wednesday, would do anything she ever asked, would rip her own heart out if it meant her mate would give her a rare smile.

And to show her, Enid knew there was only one option. They were in too deep- far too deep, to settle for anything less than razor sharp exactness.

Wednesday watched her with wide eyes, cheeks dark and lips parted almost grimly. There was no more room for waiting. Enid set aside the nail polish bottles, crawled forward to gently nudge her way between Wednesday's knees, and kissed her without a moment to waste.

Wednesday gasped and jolted away as her heart shrieked, lips burning furiously. She stared; Enid stared back. The werewolf looked ready to fling herself off of their balcony. But Wednesday fisted the soft blonde hair at the back of her head and pulled her forward with no small amount of desperation, reconnecting their mouths before she could let herself think.

There was another gasp, then a sigh, followed by a moan as Enid pushed into her closer until Wednesday was pressed on her back, braids messy and thrown over the bed. The wolf’s weight on her smaller body was warm and alluring, fading into the back of her mind as soft lips devoured her whole.

Gods, Wednesday had never seen so much color. It burst into fireworks over her eyelids as Enid kissed her and kissed her, a silver tongue dipping hotly into her mouth to flick over her canines and taste the cruel words Wednesday Addams preferred to so generously wield.

Enid’s heart burst in her chest as the girl beneath her responded ever so eagerly to her lips, tangling their legs together and using her cold, delicate hands to cup the werewolf’s cheeks and pull her closer, always closer, her perfect nails scratching softly at her skin just below the Hyde scars. A purr built up and tumbled out of her throat, startling Wednesday so much that she broke away, cheeks deliciously flushed and chest working hard to keep breathing.

Enid stopped too, unable to squash the mortified look on her face as the purr persisted, rumbling softly in the back of her throat. She knew if her wolf had its way, a golden tail would be wagging furiously. She would’ve died from embarrassment alone.

Wednesday’s mouth had gone slack, her obsidian eyes wide and a bit glazed as she stared so intently at Enid she might as well have been stripping her right then and there.

“I didn’t know that you could- that you would… make that noise,” she muttered, one hand moving to settle on Enid’s waist while the other stayed where it rested on her scarred cheek. Her fingertips were cold, yet left a blazing trail as they flittered like dark little mourning doves over fairer skin.

“Werewolves only purr for their mate,” Wednesday said slowly, cautiously, doing her damn best to gauge the expressions flashing over Enid’s face so quickly she could barely decipher half of them. Most depicted a horrified desire to forget the balcony and just head straight for a window. “Only- their mate.”

Enid could only stare at Wednesday, at her inky hair and adorable bangs, the freckles smattered over dark skin that was normally as pale as death but now shone red, the depthless eyes that threatened to drown her every morning when she awoke. Mate. Her mate, watching her closely as one would a spooked animal.

What was there to say? Wednesday stated the fact, because Enid truly had purred, was still purring, even as she scrambled for the words to save her sorry ass from the rejection of an Addams daughter. She was still hovering over said Addams, such a welcome shadow on her colorful bedspread.

“Am I your mate, Enid Sinclair?” Wednesday whispered, her lips barely moving as she used her hand to tug the blonde fully on top of her by her waist, the purr halted for only a second by a nervous whine. Her eyelashes fluttered, and a smirk- no, a grin- tipped the corners of her mouth up until perfect teeth almost showed through those taunting lips.

Taunting lips that Enid wanted to kiss again very, very much.

Wednesday repeated her question, her words almost slurred as she breathed them. There was something on her face, in the lines of her cheekbones and the dip of her chin, the curve of her jaw, that spoke of something dangerous. Insatiable. Enid couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

But as soon as she came up with it -hunger- she let out a low whimper and somehow pressed impossibly closer until her warmth was Wednesday's warmth, until her breath was Wednesday’s breath. “Yes,” she whispered, begged, might as well have screamed for what that one word did.

Wednesday Addams surged up to capture the wolf’s lips in her own and throw her off balance in order to straddle her waist, the words melting into their mouths.

Words they never really needed to say.

Not that Enid would even know how to speak in the first place, after Wednesday had her way with her.

#Wednesday #Wednesday Addams #Enid #Enid Sinclair #Wenclair #sapphic #queer #lesbian #fanfic #fanfiction #wlw #gxg #Addams family #fluff #angst?#I love them so much

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

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bare with me for a second here, it sounds confusing but i promise you i will explain it

slightly NSFW - ¿AITA for pretending i was asleep while my friends were having sex next to me then telling people about it?

i (19X) had three friends over for a game night and due to a thunderstorm i invited all four to crash at my place.

friend C (18X) had to leave, but before they did, they told me in secret about how they were feeling mildly uncomfortable due to friend A (20F) and friend B (18M)'s constant flirting. i told them i had also felt like a third wheel, but we wondered if we were actually getting mixed signals. C leaves and A, B and I have a good time chatting.

fast forward to when we were getting ready to sleep. i forgot to tell them i am a VERY light sleeper and take forever to fall asleep, so ive been lying in one mattress for 30 minutes in silence. A and B are clearly having intercourse in another mattress right next to mine and i cant sleep because of the noise, but instead of telling them i was awake or asking them to be quiet, i pretend i'm sleeping as not to bother them.

it felt awful to witness a moment that wasnt meant for me to witness, and i dont mind at all that they had sex in my house. it also messed up my sleep schedule by keeping me up for basically the entire night. maybe it would have been better for all three of us if i had somehow signaled to them that i was awake so they could take it somewhere else, maybe i should have moved. i feel like a creep for hanging on there for so long listening to their intimate moment since they didn't consent to me listening to it as they didn't know i was awake (i didn't let them know i was awake in any way). but at the same time it all sounds like miscommunication and i don't think it's 100% my fault.

i haven't told this story to anyone that knows them and never gave out their names. i only touched on the subject to select close friends that have no idea who they could be and did so due to out of immediate stress from the situation. when the time came for C to ask me if they had made me uncomfortable doing their stay, i didn't answer because i didn't think i should tell it to anyone that could interact with them face to face.

Thid begs the question: AITA for even telling anyone about it in the first place?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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southparktexts · 2 months

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hii! can i request the main 4 (plus craig if you write for him please) with reader who's afraid of thunderstorms and stuff. thank you! absolutely love your new layout 🖤

-🦇

Main four + Craig with a reader who has a fear of thunderstorms

goddamn thats a long fucking title, of course 🦇 anon !! i missed you

Kyle :

- i can imagine you guys were over at his house, studying.

- you were studying on his bed near the window and he was studying at his desk.

- the weather had been acting up lately so it eventually led to thunder.

- you jumped at the sound, running to kyle.

- he tilted his head at you.

“..whats wrong sweetheart?”

“..thunder. im scared, ky.”

- when i tell you his heart MELTED when you ran over to him for security it genuinely did.

- held you tight and put you onto his lap.

“shh.. shh.. its alright darling.. were inside.. its not going to hurt you.”

“…but what about-“

“no baby, its not going to hurt you.”

- holds you tight and kissing your face occasionally.

- rubbing circles into your back as you shake in his arms.

- basically a praising machine.

“good girl.. just like that.. its not gonna hurt you, just breathe.”

- holds you tight like hes about to lose you.

Stan :

- you were currently over at his place at the farm.

- normally the two of you guys just hung out in his room, except today was different.

- you were downstairs helping stan’s mom while stan wrote songs for his band.

- eventually, stans mom made him dinner and you walked into his room to hand it to him.

- you put it down onto his bedside table when you heard a loud bang of lighting.

- you jumped onto stans bed, shaking slightly.

“babe? whats wrong?”

“..thunder.”

- he immediately put down whatever he was doing to come comfort you.

- he’s a silent person, he cuddles you but doesn’t say anything.

- rubbing circles on your back and patting you.

- rocking back and forth and planting kisses onto your head as you hug him for security.

- holds you tightly so you feel safer.

- a very, silent sweetheart.

- he would maybe check up on you after a few minutes of it being over.

- 30 minutes or so.

“baby how you holding up?”

“..alright.. thank you for being there stan.”

Kenny :

- he was over at your house and you were both in your kitchen.

- he was helping you make dinner for you and him when you heard the thunder.

- you flinched, almost dropping the plate.

- at this point he didnt even need to ask if you’re okay because he knows your not.

- you are SHAKING while you try cracking egg.

- biting your lip trying not to panic.

- immediately turns off the stove and holds you from the back, tightly.

- imprinting soft kisses onto your forehead.

- giving you a soft shh.

“its okay, its okay.. its just thunder.. nothing to worry about..”

- huge praiser.

“thats a good girl, just like that. breathe for me.”

- you guys stay there for a hot minute until the end of the thunderstorm.

- he waits until you stop shaking and helps you cook again.

Cartman :

- you guys were cuddling on the couch, watching movies.

- it was one of those days where you and cartman didnt do anything but cuddle and watch.

- that all changed when the thunder started.

- you shook and eric noticed

“honey, you okay?”

- you shook your head no and he nodded.

- you guys continued to cuddle and he rubbed your arm using his hand.

- eventually called for his mom.

“MEEMMM CAN YOU MAKE Y/N SOME COOKKIESS”

“okay snookums!”

- asks // demands his mom to make you your comfort food as you continue to watch and get your mind off things.

- not vocal at all during all this.

- he prefers his actions do the talking for him.

- feeds you popcorn while you watch the film because you’re too shaken up by the thunder to grab some.

- cuddles you until you feel better.

Craig :

- after dating tweek you cannot tell me this man is not prepared for this.

- definitely did research on what to do just in case.

- you were at his house playing with stripe and cuddling on the bed when thunder went off.

- you flinched almost scaring stripe.

- craig let out a unbothered sigh and got up from his side of his bed, walking up to his wardrobe and pulling out a box.

- it was a box of anxiety stress toys // figets.

- you smiled at the gesture, shaking as you hand over stripe to craig.

- craig has one arm wrapped around you as you play with the stress toys in silence

- craig is definitely not one to talk like eric and stan but he’s more to be a comfort.

- he definitely lets you bury yourself into him for maximum security.

- soft kisses on your forehead and playing with your hair.

- keep in mind this is rare when it comes to craig because he doesn’t show affection as much.

- afterwards he would talk.

“honey, are you doing alright after that?”

“..yes, thank you love.”

- buys more figets after that.

#kyle broflovski x reader #south park x reader #southpark #southparkheadcannons #southparkimagines #stan marsh x y/n #eric cartman #eric cartman x reader #kenny mccormick #kenny mccormick x reader

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holyratrimony · 1 year

Text

Summer Love at Bighorn Ranch

Pairing: John Marston x Fem!Reader

Summary: After his divorce from Abigail, John Marston is a mess. A series of rash decisions lead to John purchasing a rundown piece of land called Bighorn Ranch. As the ranch grows, so does the need for extra hands. When you show up, ready for your new job, John is immediately taken with you. When you get caught in a thunderstorm and show up on his doorstep, soaking wet, will he be able to keep his feelings to himself, or will he confess everything?

Word count: 9.7k (how does this keep happening?)

Warnings: minors dni, 18+ only, I’ll kick you in the knees I s2g, do not read this, dry humping, premature ejaculation, coming in pants, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, p in v sex, creampie, older man/younger woman

A/N: This takes place during the 90s, John’s in his forties, R is like mid-20s, Jack is like 10 in this, hedgehogs are not rodents but John doesn’t need to know that, also R wears John’s clothes at one point (as someone who's plus size I think John would own pretty baggy clothes), John is mega horny in this (in like a very pathetic way), how’d angst get in here? (it's just a lil bit), John thinks he is in charge but R has him wrapped around her finger, no physical descriptions of reader, no use of y/n, not beta read

To say John wasn’t doing well would be an understatement. After the divorce with Abigail, he’d hit a bit of a midlife crisis. The first step was moving out and subsequently crashing in Dutch and Hosea’s guest room. The two older men were patient with him, lending him some much-needed emotional support as he processed his feelings. After about a month, one drastic haircut, and a new earring, John finally was ready to move out to a place of his own.

He’d decided to return to his roots, taking out a rather large loan and purchasing a run-down ranch on a large piece of land in the middle of nowhere called Bighorn Ranch. The land was green and vast with a mix of plains and forests. It only took three days of him trying to lay the foundations for the house alone before giving in and calling Charles and Javier for help. The two men had come to his aid quickly, and with three hands they were able to get the ranch house built within just a few months. Then the barn, stables, and coup went up, followed by a half dozen small cabins about a mile from the main house. Both Javier and Charles opted to live in the cabins despite John’s protests, stating that they wanted to give him his space in the house. Ranching made sense to John. It was something he was good at. Whether it was keeping up with all the chores or breaking in the wild mare Charles found wandering the plains. As the ranch grew, so did the need for more hands. Javier had been tasked with taking the truck into the nearby towns, the closest being 30 minutes away, and hanging up help-wanted posters. The new ranchers would live on the property in the remaining cabins and would be responsible for a mix of construction, maintenance, and handling of the animals. Within a few weeks, four new hands had joined the ranch. The hands were set to arrive on a sunny spring afternoon. John was waiting on the porch with Charles and Javier, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers. His hair was still growing back since the regrettable impulse cut, the ends reaching his ears. His beard was short, little more than stubble. The scars he’d gotten from a neighborhood dog when he was growing up cut through the dark hairs. He’d kept the small gold hoop in his ear despite the light teasing from Charles and Javier. The three men were discussing the horse show that was coming up next month when the sound of a car cut them off. The red and white Dodge Ram 2500 rumbled up the dirt drive, kicking up a small cloud behind it. The truck pulled up in front of the house, stopping next to John’s teal and silver Ford F-150. Three men in their twenties piled out of the truck, each sending a friendly smile and wave toward the older ranchers. John, Charles, and Javier made their way down the porch steps, John stubbing out his cigarette on the railing. The new hands introduced themselves, apparently all childhood friends which explained why they arrived together, shaking hands and giving names. After introductions, John showed the men around the main part of the ranch. Showing them the stables, the coup, and the different paddocks for the sheep, goats, and cows took up the better part of an hour. As they headed back towards the house John let them know that that was probably enough for right now. Once they were on the porch he explained the basic amenities in each cabin. They’d have electricity, a small kitchen, a bathroom, a bed, and a landline. John handed them each a slip of paper with the number for his line, letting them know that if they needed Charles or Javier they’d be living right next door. Charles offered to take the boys down to the cabins and Javier offered to join, citing that he needed to change out of his dusty work clothes. The boys hopped in their truck and followed after Javier and Charles, the cloud of dust slowly getting further and further away. John took a seat on one of the chairs on the porch, looking down over the property. There was still one new hand that was supposed to be arriving, likely within the next hour. John pulled another cigarette from his pocket, cupping his hand around his lighter as he flicked it, protecting the flame from the wind. Heady smoke filled his lungs as he leaned back. The three boys seemed nice. All were well-mannered and friendly. One of them, Riley, John thought his name was, said he’d worked at the MacFarlane’s ranch for a few years, dealing mainly with the horses. The other two mentioned they’d worked doing construction for the last few years. Apparently, they wanted more exciting work and while the MacFarlane’s didn’t have any more jobs available, they knew Bighorn was hiring and sent the boys in John’s direction. Javier had handled the applications, of which there were few. He was typically in charge of the business end of things despite the ranch belonging to John. Javier had a charm and refinement that was perfect for dealing with people and local businesses that John seemed to lack. John’s mind began to drift, as it often did when he was alone, to Abigail and Jack. He had Jack for a few days each month. The last time Jack came to visit, John had shown him how to ride. The two of them didn’t talk a whole lot but the time they spent together always felt special. Jack had a room in the ranch house, filled with his medieval fantasy books, a couple of his toys, and a small gaming setup with a sega genesis and little box tv. Jack had tried to teach John how to play Sonic but John was hopeless. His fingers were too big for the little buttons and he just couldn’t get the hang of moving that damn rodent around. He missed Jack, every damn day. Abigail too, but that was getting easier. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of tires on the dirt road. A grey and blue Chevy Silverado pulled up the drive. John stood up, a slight groan leaving his lips. He was only in his forties but his years of hard living seemed to be catching up to him. He moved down the steps, his eyes trained on his boots until the sound of a car door slamming shut had him looking up. John’s heart stopped. Or he couldn’t breathe. Or he died. He wasn’t sure. All he could tell was that the woman in front of him was like a dream. The late afternoon sun shone on your form, bathing you in a golden glow. Your eyes were covered by sunglasses, a black shirt adored your torso while your legs were covered by a pair of blue jeans, and a pair of brown work boots on your feet. Your smile was easygoing as you raised a hand in greeting. Your voice was kind and warm as you greeted him. “Hi! I’m one of the new ranch hands. Are you Javier?” John let out a laugh at that, trying to compose himself. “No, no, I’m John. John Marston. I uhh… I own Bighorn.” He was trying not to let his eyes drag over your body but he couldn’t help himself. “Jav-Javier’s in charge of the business side of things, you’ll meet him later.” “Nice to meet you, Sir,” A spike of heat seemed to pierce through John at the title. The smile etched on your face was radiant as you gave him your name. God, you were pretty. John cleared his throat as he attempted to avoid looking directly at you. “The other hands got here bout an hour ago. They’re down at the cabins right now. Ya wanna join them or do ya wanna tour of the ranch?” His hand rubbed the back of his neck almost sheepishly. He couldn’t help but wishing you’d take the tour. Selfishly hoping to get some one on one time with you before introducing you to the other men. He finally mustered the courage to look up at your face. Your smile seemed almost shy as you replied, stepping towards him slightly, “I think I’d like to see the ranch, Sir.” He was fucked. ~~~~~~ Having extra hands on the farm proved to be endlessly helpful as spring turned to summer. The animals that had been born only a few weeks after you and the boys arrived were growing bigger and bigger. The four of you also helped John and Charles bring some of the horses to a show in one of the neighboring towns, bringing in a pretty sum of cash. John was beginning to feel a little more at peace. The loans for the ranch were beginning to get smaller and smaller as he paid them off. The stress on his shoulders seemed to be lessening as the weeks went by. His self-deprecating thoughts being replaced with thoughts of you. To say John was enamored would be putting it lightly. To start with you were a good worker. Often working longer hours than necessary, going until you felt the job was complete. At the end of the day, you’d slump onto the steps of the porch, your shirt sticking to your chest, your skin glowing, a blissed-out smile on your face. John would come out and offer you a beer. There would normally be only five minutes where you were alone before the rest of the men joined the two of you. John tried not to resent it, knowing he had no claim over you, but god he wished he did. John found himself staring at you as you moved around the ranch. Whether you were carrying bales of hay to the stables, pounding in nails on the fence you were fixing, or helping break one of the new horses. John would let his gaze drag up and down your body before catching himself. He would reprimand himself. Reminding himself that you were a. Almost twenty years his junior, b. Likey dating one of the younger hands (a thought that had made him prone to snapping at the young men without much prompting), and c. wouldn’t want a broken man like him. He’d scold himself, telling himself he was a pervert for looking at you like that, for wanting to take you, claim you. But he couldn’t seem to stop the thoughts from creeping in late at night. When his rough hands fisted his cock and he’d think about you on your knees for him, your lips and tongue running up and down his length as you looked up at him with those pretty eyes. Or how you’d feel wrapped around him. What you’d sound like as he took you from every position imaginable. How you’d react if he pinched your nipples, if he spanked you. Despite being alone in that big house he’d bite his fist as he came, moaning out your name as the drag of his hand became too much. When the lust had passed and his cock softened, cum drying on his stomach, and reality set in, he’d mutter to himself, “You’re a fool, Marston.” The sentiment never seemed to stick because he’d see you bend over in that pair of jeans the next morning and would be stuck fighting the arousal that seemed to surge through him for the rest of the day. He was jacking off like a teenager, seemingly unable to control himself. When he spoke to you he’d stumble over his words, never being able to fully articulate his thoughts before getting lost in your eyes or your smile. Charles and Javier had picked up on his infatuation. Relentlessly teasing him when it was just the three of them. There was one day you were going to run errands in town. You’d stopped by the house to ask if the men needed anything else picked up while you were there. The day was already blazing hot despite it only being midmorning and you’d opted for a sundress. The fabric was light and airy around your thighs, the neckline cutting down to show more of your chest than was strictly necessary. John, Charles, and Javier had been in the kitchen, waiting for the coffee to brew, when you knocked, letting yourself in through the front door. “Hello?” Your sweet voice echoed through the house. “In the kitchen,” Charles called back. When you entered the kitchen it took everything in John not to drop the mug he’d just grabbed from the cabinet. The flush on his cheeks was immediate. He could feel his jeans getting tighter as he took in your form. He could feel his mouth hanging open slightly. He was only drawn out of his trance by Charles’ gentle elbow in his side. Luckily it seemed like you missed the small interaction. “Mornin’ y’all.” you nodded to Charles and Javier before turning to John. “I’m heading into town and was wondering if there’s anything you need me to pick up, Sir.” John could barely manage to shake his head. “T-that’s very nice of you but I think we’re all set sweetheart.” The endearment slipped out of his mouth before he could stop himself. You nodded as you slipped your sunglasses onto your face. “Alright, I’ll see y’all, later.” You shot a dazzling smile towards the men as you turned, exiting the kitchen. John was able to stew in his slight mortification until the sound of the front door shutting echoed through the house. As the latch clicked John felt his friend's knowing gazes on him. Charles was the first to speak. “I’m not gonna lie to you, that was hard to watch. ‘Sweetheart’? Really?” The teasing lilt to his voice almost had John hiding his face in embarrassment. Javier clasped a hand on John’s shoulder, giving him what could only be described as a shit-eating grin. “Oh, you’ve got it bad, brother.” John let out a long groan, debating adding a bit of whiskey to his morning coffee. He was gonna need it if he had to put up with these two for the rest of the day. That night he came in the shower, fantasizing about fucking you dumb as you bent over in that pretty little dress for him. Then again later in his bed at the idea of your legs wrapped around his head, calling him sir as he ate you out until you cried. ~~~~~~ The storm that overtook the skies a few weeks later came out of nowhere. The dark and heavy purple clouds seemingly materialized out of the clear blue sky. Lightning and thunder breaking up the peaceful feeling of the ranch. John was in the house when the rain began to fall. The drops pounding against the roof creating an unrelenting din. He walked away from the window he was looking out to the phone in the hallway. He should probably call Charles and Javier. They’d taken the truck into town and were probably still at the mechanic seeing as the owner was an old friend. He dialed the number for the garage but was only met with static. One of the phone lines must have been knocked down in the storm. He’d have to check around the property whenever Charles and Javier returned with the truck, likely tomorrow at the earliest. John’s mind flashed to you, as it often did. He hoped you were back at your cabin, safe from the torrential rains. You’d been up at the ranch this morning but probably headed back with the boys earlier in the afternoon. He was pulled out of his thoughts by a frantic pounding, different from that of the raindrops. Someone was knocking on the door. He crossed the room, hand twisting the door open to reveal your drenched form. You were dripping wet. Your jeans were several shades darker than they had been earlier, your white t-shirt was essentially translucent. John tried to not stare at the black outline of your bra showing through the shirt or at the way the fabric clung to your skin, showing off your form perfectly. His gaze was brought back to your lips as you spoke. “I’m sorry to barge in like this, Sir. I-I was with the horses when the storm started and the thunder spooked some of them. I had to round them up.” He shook his head at your words. “Come on inside darlin’, you must be freezing.” You nodded, stepping in off the porch and onto the mat inside the doorway as he stepped back, making room for you, letting the door shut behind you. “Let me go grab you a towel.” He grabbed his favorite towel from the bathroom, trying to ignore the little voice in his head that was unhelpfully pointing out that the soft fabric would soon be running over your body. As John came back out into the hallway he took in your form once again. You looked miserable and cold, trembling slightly. He handed you the towel, ignoring the spike of heat he felt as your hands brushed his. “Do you have your truck?” His raspy voice was gentler than usual. You shook your head. “Wanted to enjoy the walk this morning,” you chuckled slightly. “Well, I think that means you’re gonna be stuck here for a bit. The phones are down, the boys are at the cabins, and Charles and Javier are in town with the truck. ‘N I’m not risking you walkin’ back in this weather.” You nodded again, a small smile gracing your features at his concern. John was still trying his best not to stare at your chest, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to hide the growing outline of his cock for much longer. “You’re welcome to the shower if ya’d like. And I’ll bring you a change of clothes too.” As you toed off your boots you let out a sweet “thank you”. John showed you to the bathroom, before running to his room to grab a shirt and sweatpants. He placed them on the shelf in the bathroom before turning back to you. “The extra room is yours for tonight. If you need anythin’ just holler.” Your voice stopped him on the way out of the room. “Thank you, Sir. You’re very kind.” He chuckled lightly, “I’m just tryna help. ‘N you can jus call me John, sweetheart.” Your smile broadened a bit, “Well, thank you, John.” He nodded, barely finding the strength to close the door behind him. God, that was worse. His name falling from your lush lips. His mind grabbed onto the sound, playing with it, twisting it until he was imagining you calling it out from underneath him. As the latch clicked shut he leaned back onto the hallway walls, pressing the heel of his palm into his growing erection. “Get it together, Marston,” he muttered. He moved to the kitchen, trying to forget the shape of your body, the way the tops of your tits were visible through the wet fabric. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a glass from the cupboards, pouring himself a generous amount. He quickly drank the amber liquid, hardly registering the burn in the back of his throat. He poured another glass, just taking a sip from it this time. He could hear the water from the showerhead, even in the kitchen, and was trying to not get distracted by the thought of your body in the shower. He wished he could walk in there, wrapping his arms around you as you rinsed the day off. He’d trail soft kisses over your neck as he lathered soap over your form. He could imagine the noises you’d make as he kneaded your shoulders, the little groans that would leave your perfect lips. He shook his head, he needed to distract himself. His eyes caught on the clock across the room, it was getting late, and the both of you would probably be hungry soon. He opened the fridge and glanced over the contents. The mostly empty shelves seemed to glare back at him. He dropped his head into his hands, frustrated at himself. You were in his home and he couldn’t even make you a proper meal. He was so distracted by his perceived downfall that he didn’t hear the shower turning off, nor the click of the bathroom door and the footsteps that followed. “Sir?” Your gentle voice pulled his eyes up. You were standing in the entrance to the kitchen, his shirt hanging off your shoulders, his sweatpants hugging your hips. His gaze dragged up and down your body. You weren’t wearing a bra. Your nipples were hardened from the cold, the outline of them visible through the worn material. His voice was gruffer than usual as he forced it out around the lump in his throat, making his eyes meet yours. “I thought I told you to call me John, darlin’.” You nodded sweetly. “Alright, John.” His name sounded so sweet on your lips. He needed some sort of distraction. He grabbed the whiskey bottle from the counter, raising it for you to look at. “D’ya want a glass?” “I’d very much like that, thank you.” “How was your shower,” His full focus was on pouring a glass for you and topping off his own. Looking at you was almost too much. “It was really nice. Your water pressure is amazing!” your exclamation had John stiffening in his jeans once again. The idea of you in the shower, groaning as the water hit your shoulders, running in rivulets down your chest. He put the bottle back on the counter a little harder than he meant to, turning around to hand you your glass. The amber liquid on his tongue was a necessity for this situation. “I’d uh, I’d offer ya dinner but ‘m not much of a cook.” He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck at the admission, his cheeks tinted red. He was a grown man and the majority of his meals came frozen or from a can. “I could make something for us,” your voice was kind, soothing almost. John shook his head almost immediately. “I’m not gonna make you do that darlin’. Don’t want you to have to take care of my ass.” “I really don’t mind it, John. Plus I’d like to eat at some point.” Your tone was lighthearted as you grinned at him. After a little more back and forth he conceded, allowing you to take over the kitchen. You shooed him out of the room, telling him it’d be ready soon. John settled in the living room, flipping on the tv to try and drown out the thoughts of you. He couldn’t seem to stop. The whiskey wasn’t doing much to help. He’d occasionally flip between channels, but nothing was quite able to grab his attention. The idea of you in his house, in his kitchen, in his clothes was so domestic. The idea of walking up behind you while you cooked, wrapping his arms around you, kissing your neck, it was intoxicating to him. But he couldn’t lie and say his thoughts were completely innocent. Images of you in various compromising positions kept flashing through his mind, now accompanied by the sound of you whining his name. About half an hour later you emerged from the kitchen with two steaming plates of spaghetti, setting them down on the dining room table. When John walked over to join you the smell hit him. It was heavenly. How you’d pulled together something like this out of the pathetic ingredients he had available was incredible. As the two of you ate dinner you made idle conversation. John had talked to you a few times since you came to the ranch but he could never seem to hold a conversation. Too overwhelmed by your presence when you were close to him. Now he didn’t have much of a choice. He learned a little bit more about your life before you came to work at Bighorn. When you’d both finished eating, John offered to clean the dishes. You didn’t argue, letting him gather the dirty plates. “It's still pretty early so if you want to put on a movie while I clean up, you're more than welcome to.” You agreed and he told you where to find the tape collection. As he washed the plates in the kitchen he scolded himself. You’re too old for her, Marston. Pretty young things like her aren't interested in broken men. You’re an old fool. Once the dishes were cleaned he took a moment to lean against the counter, holding his head in his hands. He had to get it together. As far as he should be concerned you're just his employee and he should treat you as such. Seeing as he’d finished his whiskey before you had brought out dinner, he grabbed a cold beer from the fridge. He called your name towards the living room, asking if you wanted one too. You shouted back a yes. He uncapped the two beers and walked back to the living room. You were curled up on the right side of the couch, your legs tucked up off the floor, a blanket from the chest near the window wrapped around you. You looked warm and comfortable. John pointedly ignored the pang of affection that shot through his chest as he handed you your beer. The couch was small but he still tried to give you space. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But even with his hip pressed against the arm of the couch, your legs still brushed against his thigh. He had to keep his breath steady as he could feel the warmth from your body. He recognized the movie you picked as Jurassic Park, one of Jack’s favorites. You were only at the part where the scientists were on their way to the island. “‘S a good choice,” he gestured at the tv. “The movie I mean.” “It’s one of my favorites!” God your smile was cute. He wanted to make you smile all the time. As the movie continued, the two of you sat in comfortable silence. However, John was very aware of your presence next to him. Of the press of your legs against his. In trying to ignore the heat in his stomach and the feeling of you right next to him, he was staring very hard at the tv. When Ellie jumped off the ride to go look at the stegosaurus, you shifted towards him, moving your legs to the other side of you, your torso almost pressing into his side. “I still can’t believe how real it looks! It's crazy!” The excitement in your voice made a smile form on John’s face. Subconsciously, he moved his arm to the back of the couch, giving you room to move in, to lean against him if you so desired. He didn’t even register he had done it until he felt your body press against his, tucking yourself under his arm. He couldn’t stop the small hitch in his breath at the realization that you were willingly cuddling up to him. He was sure you could probably hear his heartbeat from your new position. He tried to keep his eyes on the movie but it was hopeless, his gaze focused intently on you. When you raised your head to look at him he wasn’t quick enough. You’d caught him. He was caught off guard by your hand pressing into his chest as you pushed yourself up. You were still close to him, but you were now upright, your chest turned towards him. Your gaze was calculating as your tongue traced along your bottom lip. He couldn’t help but stare at the movement. The indecision seemed to leave your eyes as you noticed what he was staring at. You leaned towards him slightly. “John,” your voice was soft as he finally was able to drag his gaze to meet yours. Your eyes were dark, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. “Kiss me.” His brain stopped. Or his heart stopped. He wasn’t sure. Maybe both. All he could manage was a small nod. His hand moved to grasp the nape of your neck, bringing your lips to his. The kiss was passionate, a mess of tongues and lips, of gasping breaths. John ignored every part of his brain that was telling him to stop. That you were too young for him, that you were his employee, all of the reasons that he shouldn’t let this happen. The feeling of you drowned out everything else. When he nibbled on your bottom lip, you let out a small moan. The sound sent blood rushing to his cock. All he wanted to do was draw those noises out of you. To hear every little sound you’d make in the throes of pleasure. Your kisses were as greedy as his, seemingly trying to savor every second of your embrace. He was able to pull himself away for a moment, pressing his forehead to yours as his hands came to cradle your head in his large hands. “Darlin’,” his voice was rougher than usual. “Are you sure you want this? Are you sure you want an ol’ man like me?” The glare you gave him was more chiding than actually frustrated. “First of all, you're not old. Second, I’ve wanted this since I started working here. Wanted you since that first day.” Your confession sent a shiver through John. “Really,” he couldn’t stop the slightly desperate tone that laced his voice. You nodded, smiling at him. “How could I not?” Your answer was simple but it sent a swirl of affection and mild pride through him. He moved a hand to your waist, you seemed to take it as an invitation to move onto his lap. Swinging your body so your legs rested on either side of his thighs. In this position, John allowed his hands to roam over your body. Tracing up your back, trailing down your sides, he let them come to rest on your ass, grabbing the flesh and pulling you against him slightly. The movement caused your hips to press against his hardness. You gasped loudly. His first reaction was worry that he’d done something wrong, but that thought left his mind when you rolled your hips against his again. He was painfully hard, his cock pressing against the confines of his jeans. He could feel the small wet spot forming in his underwear, his tip leaking precum. Each move of your hips felt like heaven. The feeling of you, in his lap, wearing his clothes, making those desperate little sounds as you ground yourself against him, was better than any of the fantasies he’d had. He was meeting your movements, thrusting up. The feeling was overwhelming, and when you attached your lips to his neck he keened. He let his hands slip under the hem of your shirt, just trailing them along the soft skin of your hips at first. When you didn’t make any move to stop him, he began to trace higher and higher. Fingertips brushing over your sides, your ribs, and then your tits. God, they were so soft. He let his hands pinch your nipples experimentally. You had to move your mouth from his neck when you let out a high-pitched moan. “Do that again,” your voice was tantalizingly desperate. “Please, John.” He complied, unable to deny you anything you asked for. His fingers twisted and pulled at your sensitive buds, rewarding him with your gasps and breathy moans. He pushed you back slightly in his lap, moving you so you were sat upright. He looked up at you as he brought his face to your chest, wrapping his lips around one nipple while continuing his ministrations on the other. The look on your face was the prettiest thing John had ever seen. Your lips were parted, your eyes squeezed shut from the pleasure, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you held on. You’d paused your hips when he moved you, allowing his pleasure to subside. When your eyes opened, your pupils were blown wide and lust practically dripping from your gaze, he couldn’t help himself from thrusting his hips to yours. His hands moved back to your waist, his eyes never leaving yours as he rolled his hips again, the pressure from your body providing him the slightest bit of relief. He’d been able to calm himself for a little bit, but with his hips humping against you and the look in your eyes, he was driving himself toward the edge again. He couldn’t help it. Couldn’t bother to be embarrassed about the needy moans leaving his mouth. It was almost without warning that he felt the pleasure in him swell as his balls drew up. The stimulation of your warm body rubbing against him sending him over the edge. His cock pulsed in his jeans, releasing spurt after spurt of hot cum. He came with a harsh gasp followed by an embarrassing whine of your name, his hands clutching you tightly as he kept humping you, drawing out the sensations. When his high began to subside he was overtaken with embarrassment. He’d finally gotten a chance with you and he’d cum in his pants like a goddamn teenager. Your voice was small. “Um…John. Did you…did you just cum.” All he could do was nod as he buried his head in your shoulder, unable to fully look at you. Your hands buried into his hair, holding him sweetly. “It’s okay, John. It happens.” He couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye. He’d ruined his chance. “I-I’m so sorry.” he managed to get out. You let out a soft coo as your hands moved to cradle his face. “You’ve got nothing’ to be sorry for. I promise.” He tilted his head up, his gaze meeting yours. There was nothing in your eyes to indicate disgust or displeasure, just kindness. He nodded dumbly as he took you in. “Wanted this to be good for you, sweetheart. Been thinking of this for ages and I fucked it up.” You shook your head. “What makes you think you won’t be able to make it up to me?” your smile was teasing as you tilted his chin upwards. Hope sparked in his chest at your words. “Like right now?” desperation leaked into his voice. You nodded sweetly. “If that’s okay with you.” John couldn’t stop his overenthusiastic nod. “Well in that case I think I owe you somethin’” He shifted you off his lap, allowing you to stand. “My bedrooms, the door on your right, down that hallway there. I'll be there in just a moment.” As he stood you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, bringing your lips to his once again. You then leaned in, allowing your lips to brush the shell of his ear. “You better, or I’ll be left with no choice but to take care of myself,” you pushed away from him, a sly grin on your face as you shot him a wink and started in the direction of his room. John watched you leave, letting his eyes drag over your form, his thoughts notably absent of the guilt that would plague him whenever he’d looked at you before. When you were out of sight, he went into the bathroom, quickly cleaning himself up. As he walked towards his room he felt what could only be described as butterflies in his stomach. You were far too good for him, in every single way, but you were here, you wanted to be with him, to have him touch you. He couldn’t help the dopey smile that broke out across his face. He pushed open the bedroom door to find you standing in the middle of the room, seemingly taking in your surroundings. At the sound of his footsteps, you turned to face him. “You ready to make it up to me, Mr. Marston?” Your teasing voice was cut off as he closed the space between the two of you and pulled your body into his. His lips crashed into yours, his hand coming to rest on your jaw. His tongue swept across your bottom lip, almost asking permission, which you granted. You tasted like the whiskey from earlier. He began to walk you backward, your steps hesitant until the backs of your legs hit the edge of his bed and you fell onto your back. You looked so beautiful below him. You scooted yourself toward the headboard as he dropped his knees onto the mattress. He moved up until he was settled between your legs, his body pressed to the bed as his hands came to rest on your thighs. “I wanna taste you darlin’,” his fingers brushed against the exposed bit of skin that was visible between your shirt and the band of your sweatpants. “Would that be alright with you?” When he lifted his eyes to meet yours, your pupils had swallowed your irises. Your gaze was heavy with lust, your teeth sunk into your lower lip as you nodded. “Please, John. Need you.” His hands hooked over the band of your sweatpants, pulling them down over the tops of your thighs. He couldn’t look away as more and more of you was revealed. As soon as the sweatpants had slipped off your feet, his mouth met your inner thigh. His hands moved to the insides of your knees, gently pushing you apart for him. He traded between kisses and gentle nips as his mouth trailed over the sensitive skin. “Take off your shirt for me sweetheart.” his voice was low, filled with desire. You quickly obeyed, tossing the fabric to the floor and settling back against the bed. John couldn’t believe that he was here, between your thighs. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d thought about this, in this same bed as he fucked his hand. And now it was happening, it was real. He felt his cock jump slightly, blood beginning to return to it. You were whimpering under him, clearly frustrated at the lack of attention being paid to your dripping cunt. He could see the small wet patch forming on the cotton that covered you and his mouth watered. He couldn’t resist dragging a finger over your clothed slit as his mouth continued along your thigh. You let out a high-pitched moan when his finger ghosted over your clit. God, he wanted to draw more of those noises from your sweet lips. “Don’t be impatient now, sweetheart. I’m gonna take my time with you.” His voice was even raspier than usual, dripping with lust. You thrust your hips slightly at his words, trying to get more from him. He pressed your hips back to the bed with one hand, holding you still, tutting his tongue at you. He dragged his mouth higher, his lips pressing against the cotton of your panties. He smirked slightly before grabbing the hem of them between his teeth and dragging them down your hips. When you were rid of them, he couldn’t help but take you in. “John,” your voice was sweet with want. With need. His hands moved back to your inner knees, pushing your legs apart for him. Your cunt glistened with slick, the insides of your thighs shining with it as well. He couldn’t wait to taste you. He was laying between your legs again, his face only inches from your heat. This was better than anything he’d imagined. You were a dream and he wanted to show you how much he wanted this, wanted you. You let out the most intoxicating noise when he licked a broad stripe over your entrance, his nose bumping your clit. Your hands, which had been gripping the sheets at your sides, moved to his hair, tangling your fingers in the dark locks. You were the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. He wanted to drink you in, the taste of you like heaven on his tongue. He wanted to drag it out. To tease you with soft licks, turn you into a begging mess. But that would take patience and John Marston was not a patient man. He buried his face in your pussy. His tongue laving over you as his nose rubbed against your clit. If he were to die right now, he’d die a happy man. His hands dug into your hips as he dragged you closer to his mouth. He was trying to memorize everything that made you moan, made you tug on his hair, or try to grind your hips against his mouth. The moan you let out when he wrapped his lips around your clit was absolutely sinful. “Johnnn,” your breath was labored, making it hard to form full sentences. “P-please,” you begged. “Please what, darlin’? What d’ya need?” His voice was teasing as his gaze met your lust-darkened eyes. “Please finger me, please. I need it, please, please, John.” He would’ve liked to tease you more but he was quickly realizing that he couldn’t resist doing anything you asked of him. “How could I say no when you sound so sweet beggin’ for me.” He brought his mouth back to your clit as one of his fingers traced lightly over your slit. You were so goddamn wet, the mix of your slick and his spit shining in the low light of the room. You shivered when he pushed a finger in, just to the first knuckle. He felt you clench at the invasion, making him let out a soft groan. He pushed his finger fully inside you, crooking it up to press against your walls. You let out a loud whiny moan at the sensation. He continued slowly dragging his digit in and out, brushing against your g-spot each time. He wanted to draw this out, show you how good he could make you feel. His mouth continued the assault on your clit, as he finally gave in and added another finger, much to your delight. Your hips rocked against his hand with each thrust, your back arching when he would slowly brush over that sensitive spot. He could feel you getting wetter, your breaths becoming shorter, the words leaving your lips barely discernible. “J-John, I-I’m gonna cum,” he could barely hear you as you wrapped your thighs around his head, your hand yanking on his hair, pulling him closer to you, trying to reach your peak. He sped up slightly, not enough to disrupt your pleasure, but just enough to have you gasping loudly. John felt you clench around his fingers, once, twice, and then you came. Looking back on it, he wished he could’ve seen your face, but he was so lost in lapping up the rush of slick from you. He could do this for hours, knelt between your legs, eating you out until you were exhausted or until he had his fill, whichever came first. He only pulled off of you when you tugged his hair trying to push him off as your thighs fell back to the mattress. He looked up at you, taking in your disheveled face. Your lips were slightly swollen from your teeth biting into them, your eyes were dark, your chest rising and falling rapidly with your breath. “Sorry darlin’, ya just taste so good. Couldn’t help myself.” He was grinning like an idiot. You returned his smile as you muttered, “you’re damn good at that.” “That mean I make it up to ya?” You nodded, “Doesn’t mean we’re done here though.” John’s cock jumped at that. Eating you out had turned him on more than he’d care to admit, his cock had become hard and heavy, pressed against the mattress. “Thank god for that,” his raspy voice was only slightly teasing. A small smile broke out across your face as you shook your head at him, your hands pulling him up to you. He knew you could taste yourself on his tongue, the thought driving him slightly crazy. He’d propped himself up, his arms on either side of you, keeping mind to not let his whole weight rest on you. You pulled back, the look in your eye intrigued him. You looked like you had a plan. Before he could register what was happening, you’d flipped him over, sitting on top of him, your body on display. You leaned forward slightly, your finger trailing along the buttons of his shirt. “I think you’re wearing far too much clothing.” John could only bring himself to nod, as he took in your form. He was in awe. Your fingers began to work on his buttons, undoing them one by one. As more of his chest was revealed you brought your mouth to gently kiss across his skin. He could feel his mouth hanging open slightly, his heart pounding as you showed him a gentleness he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Your touches were light and adoring. As more of him was revealed to you, compliments and sweet words spilled from your lips. Your lips trailed across the scars that littered his chest, murmuring, “you’re so beautiful, John.” He felt like he was being worshiped. Like you were treating him like something to be treasured. When your fingers undid the last button of his shirt, you helped him slip it off of his shoulders, tossing the fabric to the floor to join the other discarded garments. Your hands traced along his chest, running through the smattering of hair across his pecs. Your hands drifted down further, your fingers dragging lightly through the dark hair of his happy trail. They came to rest on the waistband of his jeans, tucking underneath the fabric slightly, your nails teasing the sensitive skin. Your eyes were dark as you looked up at him, asking for permission. He nodded, maybe a bit too enthusiastically. You made quick work of the button and zipper, your fingers once again hooking over the sides as you pulled his jeans and boxers down in one go. His cock sprang up from the fabric, leaking and red, the head practically dripping precum. John knew his dick wasn’t something to scoff at but he still felt self-conscious. That was until he raised his eyes to your face. “Oh, John,” your words were soft, you seemed transfixed, your hand coming up to wrap around him, your fingers only barely able to touch around his girth. He couldn’t help the hiss that escaped him at the pressure. Your hands were light, tracing along the vein that ran up his length, ghosting over the head, your thumb swept at the slit, catching a drop of precum. He was captivated as you brought your thumb to your lips, your tongue darting out to taste it. He couldn’t take this slow teasing, he couldn’t wait any longer, he needed to be inside of you. His hands gripped your hips, lifting you before flipping the two of you once again. God, you were so beautiful. His naked body pressing against yours. His hand reached up to trace your jaw, fingers coming to a rest on your chin, tilting your head to look at him. “Are you sure you want this?” As much as he dreamt of you, as much as he wanted this, he needed to know you felt the same. That this wasn’t something one-sided. Your hands reached around him, settling on the back of his neck, the smile you gave him was sweet, the lust in your eyes seeming to give way to something softer, something he’d dare call adoring. “John, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’ve been the one pursuing you all night. I know what I want. I know I want you.” He couldn’t formulate a response aside from bringing his lips to yours. The kiss was sweet at first but quickly sank back into something laced with sinful intents. He only pulled back to reach into the drawer of his nightstand, his hands tracing over the contents, searching for a condom. “John,” your voice was smaller than it had been a minute ago. “I-I’m clean. Got tested a bit ago. I, uh, I’m also on the pill.” His gaze was unable to leave your face as he tried to make sense of the words. His brain short-circuiting. When he didn’t respond, you continued, “S-so, I mean if you’re clean, we- I’m okay if we don’t use one.” He nodded, slowly at first, then with barely contained enthusiasm. “God, woman. You’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispered as his lips met yours once again. The kiss was chaste, cut short by both of your eagerness. John moved back, kneeling between your legs, one hand languidly stroking his cock as he looked down at you. He used his other hand to help scoot you forward, tipping your hips up slightly as your legs wrapped around his waist. He ran his tip over your entrance, tapping it against your clit. A shudder ran through your body as you let out a frustrated groan. He did it again, relishing in the way you squirmed as he refused to give you what you so desperately needed. “John,” your voice was clipped, stern. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to leave and go finished myself off…alone.” He got the message, letting his tip stop at your dripping entrance before pushing in slowly. The heat and the tightness that met him was almost overwhelming. He had to stop himself from pushing in all the way in one go. He tried to go slowly, an inch at a time, but the way you were wrapped around his length was too much. Before he could stop himself, his hips thrust forward, entering you to the hilt, his balls pressed against your ass. He managed to let out a strangled, “sorry,” as he rested inside you, unmoving. You had gasped at the sudden movement, but now with him still, pressing incessantly into your g-spot, you were beginning to gyrate your hips, encouraging him to begin to move. His hands had come to rest beside your head, holding his body over yours as he slowly brought his hips back before thrusting into you. You moaned loudly as his body met yours. The pace he started was slow, purposeful. One of his hands moved to cup your jaw, bringing your lips to meet his in an almost loving kiss. He was holding back, not wanting to speed up for fear of hurting you. You seemed to not care as you pulled your lips back from him. Your gaze met his, it was hard and determined. “I’m not a doll, John. I'm not gonna break.” You brought your lips to his ear, the brush of them sending shivers down his spine as you whispered, “been waiting for this for months. Fuck me like you mean it.” You barely had time to draw back before he began to pound into you, his pace unrelenting. The moans leaving your mouth were heavenly, intoxicating. He wanted more. He moved his lips to your throat, biting and sucking the delicate skin. The whine you let out when he nipped you particularly hard had him grinning against your neck. He brought a hand up to your tits, tweaking your nipples like he did earlier on the couch, teasing you. He felt you grip down on him whenever he pulled or pinched especially hard. He was panting, both from the physical excretion as well as the overwhelming pleasure. He could hear how wet you were with each thrust, the noises your body made driving him to thrust a little harder. “You were fuckin’ made for me, sweetheart,” he growled out between breaths. As heat coiled in his stomach, he kept remembering what you had said. How you wanted him to cum inside of you, how you’d wanted him for months. He needed to see it when it happened. Needed to see what you’d look like stuffed full of his cum. His thrusts slowed as he shifted off your neck, his hand leaving your chest as he sat up. He removed your legs from his waist and instead lifted them until they rested on his shoulders. When he leaned back down again, his hands came to rest on either side of your head, essentially folding you in half. He gave a hard thrust into you. The new angle made him sink deeper, his cock brushing against your g-spot with each stroke. Even though you felt tight before, now every move he made had you squeezing him. He knew he couldn’t possibly last much longer but he had to make you cum before he did. Had to give you a reason to do this again. You were letting out a steady stream of curses each time he pounded into you. Your hands gripping the sheets, bunching them tightly in your fists. Your eyes were black with lust and your mouth hung open, sweat shone on your forehead and chest. You looked like a fucking angel. John couldn’t help the praise that dripped from his lips. “You’re such a good girl for me, ain’tcha. Taking me so fuckin’ well.” He moved one of his hands to your clit, rubbing it in tight circles. “Wanted you since I first saw ya. Wanted to take ya right on the porch.” “John,” you let out a breathy whine. He kept going, “that day you came over in that stupid sundress. Looked so sweet in it. All dolled up. Wanted to bend you over. Wanted to fuck you until you were screaming my name.” He gave a particularly hard thrust, emphasizing his words. “W-wore it for you,” you managed to get out around harsh moans. He could barely think through the fog of pleasure that permeated his brain. “That’s my girl,” he grunted. His hair was sticking to his forehead, his chest flushed red, sweat beading on his skin. He was so fucking close, for the second time that night. You’d made a mess of him. “Fuck,” your body seemed to be almost shaking with pleasure. “J-John, I’m gonna cum. P-please don’t stop, feels so good.” He kept his pace and seconds later you were clamping down on him like a vice. Your body shook with the waves of pleasure that washed over you. The sensation of you squeezing around him sent him right to the brink of his orgasm. His thrusts became sloppy as he chased his high, his balls drawing up, his pants becoming harsher. “C-cum inside me, John. please,” your worn voice all but begged as your eyes met his. Those words were the final push that threw him over the edge. He thrust once, twice, three more times before spilling inside you. His vision was overtaken by white. He rocked into you as the waves overtook him. He could feel the tingling sensation in his fingertips, in his toes. When he seemingly came back into himself, the sight that greeted him was heavenly. You were spread below him, chest still heaving, bottom lip swollen from kisses and bites. Your hands which had been gripping the sheets now ran up and down his sides, helping bring him back down from the mind-blowing orgasm. He lowered your legs from his shoulders, pulling out of you with a soft grunt. He couldn’t help but watch as his seed leaked from your hole. His fingers moved without thought to stuff his spend back inside you. He only stopped when you let out a slightly pained moan, igniting a feeling of worry in his chest. “I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to hurt ya.” You smiled and chuckled weakly, “s’okay, just sensitive right now.” He wanted to press a gentle kiss to your temple but couldn’t muster up the courage. He stood up from the bed with a small groan. “I’ll be right back sweetheart, gonna clean up.” He stumbled off towards the bathroom, wetting a washcloth and wiping himself down before tossing it into the hamper. He grabbed another cloth, making sure the water wasn’t too hot or too cold before he wrung it out and returned to the bedroom. You were in the same position as you’d been when he left, but now your legs were closed. He knelt before you on the bed. “You okay with me cleanin’ you up?” you nodded sweetly, your eyes closing as he gently swiped the rag over you. When he was done, he tossed the rag to the side, letting it join the pile of clothes already on the floor. He didn’t want your time together to end, but he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable either and the doubts were beginning to creep in on the edge of his mind. “You, uh, you don’t have to sleep here, with me, if you don’t want,” he started, staring at his hands. “The other room’s still free if you'd like.” When he brought his gaze to yours he was met with something he could only describe as affection. “I’m not going anywhere if that’s alright with you,” your voice was kind as you smiled at him. “Now come to bed, I’m getting cold here all alone.” He couldn’t contain the grin that broke out on his face. He laid down on his back, his arm outstretched, inviting you in. You curled right into his side, your head coming to rest on his chest and he wrapped his arms around you in return, holding you close. Despite just being inside you, the gentle cuddling had him blushing harder than he had all night. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for tonight, under a sky of dark clouds, and the steady pounding of rain on the roof, you were his and he was yours. And that was good enough.

I know this was super long for a one-shot smut fic but if you made it all the way through, I hope you enjoyed it! This was my first time writing smut from a man's perspective so I'm sorry if anything was weird. I just love John Marston very much <3 Comments/criticisms are always welcome! Crossposted on AO3 @holyratrimony <3333

Taglist: @cowboydisaster

This fic was inspired by this post by @butchdutch

#john marston #john marston x reader #john marston x female reader #rdr2 fanfic #modern au #rdr2

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