12ndgrace

Denji. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

is feeling the warm rays of sunshine seeping through the half closed blinds of his bedroom window. Denji's laying on his back, his features melted into a mask of pure content as he snores lightly. the traffic outside doesn't seem to bother him, nor does the light falling right on his face.

still, his fingers sometimes twitch as he holds your hand, a sign he's about to wake up soon. he looks so soft and pretty, completely relaxed among warm sheets and your hastly discarded clothes from last night. slowly rolling to your side as not to wake him, you place your hand on his bare chest.

Warnings: none, hooray!

•••|•••|•••|•••|•••

Yoshida who looks super hot and handsome and kind of freaky on the outside, but on the inside has never touched another person (non violently) in his life

Yoshida who always sleeps at least four inches away from you because he doesn’t want to bother you if he snores (he doesn’t even know if he does)

Yoshida who always sleeps after you whether you like it or not

Yoshida who also manages to wake up before you do

Yoshida who never gets sick but always takes care of you when you catch a cold (it’s because he’d built an insane immune system)

Yoshida who as a kid, strictly ate dirt and worms for funsies while his guardian watched in horror

Yoshida who looks like a sickly orphan boy lurking in the shadows at night because he just came back from stalking Denji

Yoshida who always catches onto the smallest things and will do anything it takes to lift up your mood even just a little bit

Yoshida who is touch starved but doesn’t know it because his job is so busy

Yoshida who seems distant and closed off only because he’s actually never handled other people well before

Yoshida who either can’t sing for shit but hums to your favorite songs you play on repeat or…

Yoshida who swears up and down that he can’t sing but actually sounds like a god

Yoshida who sometimes walks with you from a distance making it look like he’s your stalker (on accident)

Yoshida who smothers you with everything you enjoy on some days because he just felt like it

Yoshida who kisses you so infrequently you forget what he tastes like (he doesn’t mean to)

Yoshida who won’t start anything romantic unless you start it first

Yoshida who touches the back of your neck to freak you out and laugh

Yoshida who sometimes, once in a blue moon, kisses you in public (in front of Denji) so he can ‘assert his dominance’

Yoshida who acts like a sad puppy when you get hurt

Yoshida who is willing to die because you got hurt because of him (maybe something related to his job)

Yoshida who bites you for fun when you two are hugging

Yoshida who’s touches can be read as romantic or sexual but in reality they’re just a sign of platonic affection

Yoshida who cannot for the life of him read obvious social cues (either that or he doesn’t care)

the texts they send you when you're away.

includes: aki, denji, & yoshida

genre: headcanons / fluff

note: this post is sfw, but this account contains nsfw content. please do not follow if you are a minor.

☆ AKI basically never uses his phone. He doesn't have any social media; you can coax him into installing some if you want, but he's not going to use them. If he wants to speak to you, he'll usually opt to call you rather than send a text because he prefers to hear your voice. But in situations where he can't, or when he just wants to let you know he's thinking of you, he'll send a message your way.

14:22 [ aki <3 ]: Hey.

14:25 [ aki <3 ]: I miss you.

14:29 [ aki <3 ]: Do you want to go out tonight? We can go anywhere you'd like. My treat.

“Sweetheart,” they exclaim, eyeing the trembling student hiding behind both you AND a book, as if you weren’t enough to stop them in their tracks. “They simply need to be informed of the proper knowledge.”

“Oh, no! Not this time, Ratio/Anaxagoras! Nuh-uh! Stop scaring the baby birdies. Go! Shoosh! Leave them be.”

They try to step around you, but you move in front of them wherever they go, arms crossed over your chest. Finally, they throw their arms up and walk off in the opposite direction, and you earn the profuse gratitude of the student…

Here are some of my favorite Technoblade x reader fanfics I’ve found, and my thoughts on them!

NUMBER ONE- Swallow Your Affections by Jeeblie on AO3 and Wattpad. It all started three years ago, lil old me chilling on my bed, just finished supporting my sister’s She-ra fanfics and letting her fans know why she’s been gone so long. I then decide to just… mess around a little! Nothing too crazy, snoop around some tags yk. Im unsure when it happened exactly, but a few days into my “ quick snoop around”, I found myself on the “ Technoblade/reader” tag. Back then, there were around two hundred fics? Give or take. I scroll down a bit, and that's when I see it… SWALLOW YOUR AFFECTION! I immediately was drawn to the number of chapters and word count… 64 chapters? So many words? Now that's something you don’t see every day down here! Soon, I was deep in the trenches, reading for hours, losing sleep, and nonstop thinking about it. SYA was what got me into fanfiction in the first place. I will forever thank Jeeblie for that. I found the characters interesting and unique, and the angst and conflict so painstaking. The mystery was well done, and the dialogue is an absolute blast to read. Thank you so much for introducing me to such a wonderful world, Jeeblie. Your work helped me through some tough times, you're an amazing person, and you’ve done so much for so many people <3.

NUMBER TWO-"Promise?" by PhysieChan (orphan_account on AO3. I know this is a small one, but I don’t think I'll ever get tired of reading it. The tension, guilt, anger, fear, all the feels are so entertaining to read. The comfort at the end? AAGGGHHHG BARK BARKBARKRKRKKR. It makes me think about the character's life outside of just this snippet. How else do they interact? What is their history? What is their future? I do love this one a lot.

NUMBER THREE-Myosotis Alpestris (Forget-Me-Not) by calileio (cyarinka) on AO3. GOD, this one hurts. It hurts because of the story, and it also hurts because it is discontinued. I love the dynamics. Just like SYA, one of the fics that really got me into the community. It's been a while since I’ve re-read it, but every time I try, I start getting emotional, that kinda tells you how much this story meant to me. I need this story in my veins.

NUMBER FOUR- Only When You Look At Me by UUNOIA on AO3. I feel a little like an uncle watching their niece grow up. I remember when OWYLAM had two chapters and was the newest posted fic. I haven’t left many comments because i struggle with remembering and letting my feelings out everytime, although i have a few times ( My username is Rozebert if you remember that commentor). Its been so exciting seeing you grow so quickly and see you get so much support. I absolutely love the community you’ve build, and am impressed with how much you interact with everyone. I know this story will be in so many peoples hearts for a long time. My favorite part of OWYLAM is most definitely the voices, they are just so perfectly written and feel like a fully formed character, which i love. Mc also feels so deep and complicated, im so excited to see where she goes. And im still terrified of how the festival is gonna go, I don’t know if im gonna make it. I still need to post my fanart btw, im just a shy lil baby im sowwy.

NUMBER FIVE- A Thief's Guide to Anarchy by Anonymous on AO3. PLEAS UPTADE PLEASE, ITS BEEN 2 MONTHS I BEG. Anyway, i honestly kind of forgot how much i loved this story until i was going through the fics, i saw it, then it all came crashing back to me, and the hyperfixation is pounding at the walls again. I need to see where this story goes, i love MC so much, it hurts. Plesas let my scrumbly be ok!!!!

A list of fics that i didnt talk about but i still enjoy:

~Fly Free by Elaines_light

~love? it's an intricate work of art by continuilily

~Weight of the World by Anonymous

~Enchantment by Toroto

~I Knew You Were A Blade, But I Still Reached For You by Madam_Reverie

~summer skin on mine by continuilily

~selcouth by lotusdotpng

~Crystalline by PandoraPage (orphan_account)

~Laurel Wreaths & Animal Teeth by Mistress_Of_Space_92

~starstruck by orphan_account

~Anthology of Affection by bitchyboy

~Immerensis (Technoblade x fem!reader) by amyelevenn

~Sheath by jjeve

~Redamancy {Technoblade x Reader} by orphan_account

~Dream SMP OneShots by Lonely_Lost_Soul

~A Moment of Quiet by sunnyXXday

~Saccharine [Technoblade x Reader] by pre_shuu

Day II. Hands/Handjob

Jack Marston x F!Reader

If there’s anything odd or ooc with Jack, you know who to blame…Also, I got carried away with this lmao, I hope you enjoy hehe.

Word count: 4.1k

    Jack finds himself returning to a place somewhere far south of Don Julio, like a starved wolf following the scent of a days-old carcass with the hope of filling its shrunken belly. He realizes he has more in common with the famished critter as he takes to the road, traveling alone for days on end, postponing his own resolution with nothing but apathy to show, unlike the wolf however, he doesn’t find relief at the end of the scent. Jack’s left to dream of contentment that evades him again and again. 

He has ridden here often enough that the horse under him falls into trot as it senses the water of the lake, its head swaying sideways with recognition even though there’s still some way to go. The soft beat of hooves against the ground brought him the solace he had taken for granted too many times before this.

    He had set off this morning with nothing but a hat on his head and a rifle on his back, hoping to bring along a gift, even though formalities between you two are long dead and buried, his discipline—or whatever’s left of it—held him in check, though only just, stubborn as it is. 

Jack Marston NSFW alphabet

I wrote this last night pretty much right after receiving the request, but I was tipsy. So right now I'm trying to make sense out of what I wrote lmao :'D

Tags: explicit sexual content, no pronouns for reader, mentions of sex work, role-playing

Once Upon a Time in the West

Description: Orphaned at 14 and desperate to find a way to make ends meet, you stumble upon a boy struggling to build a fence at a ranch called Beecher's hope. Little did you know your unsolicited building advice would land you with a job at the ranch. You become the best of friends, only for life to tug you away. Years later, the 'mysterious' death of a certain government agent brings you back to Blackwater.

(SFW, fluff, angst, friends to lovers)

Warnings: mentions of death, alcoholism, depression.

6k words bc i didn't feel like making separate chapters. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

The wind carried the scent of freshly cut timber and sun-warmed earth as you rode through the valley aimlessly. The land stretched vast and golden before you, the rolling fields dotted with cattle and fenced enclosures. You rented a hotel room in Blackwater with the spare money you had, spent hours asking anyone and everyone if they were hiring only to be met with the same answer. You figured a stroll around the area would clear your head. Your horse trotted steadily, hooves crunching against the dry dirt road as you approached a homestead marked,

Beecher’s Hope.

You were met with the sight of a young boy around your age, hammering away at a fence post with all the grace of a drunkard. He adorned a worn striped shirt and gray vest, his hair cut short, freckles dusting his face. He looked well off, at least compared to yourself, clad in a torn up dress and muddled boots. 

You pulled your horse to a stop, watching as he drove a nail into the wood at an angle that would surely give way in a few months.

With a sigh, you swung yourself off your horse and approached him from outside the fence. You shifted, watching him struggle before one final smack of the hammer against the wood plank finally tempted you to speak,

“That fence is gonna collapse if you keeping hammering it like that.”

The boy startled, nearly dropping the hammer in his hands. He turned sharply to face you, small dark eyes squinting and thin brows furrowed in suspicion. “Who're you?”

You shrugged, “Nobody.”

He huffed, rolling his eyes. “Well, ‘Nobody,’ I don’t need help.” He went back to hammering, but you remained where you stood.

A moment passed before you held out your hand expectantly, 

“Come on, just hand it over."

The boy looked at you with suspicion, before passing the hammer despite himself, “What, you some kind of carpenter?”

“No, but my father was.”

The words slipped out before you could catch them, your mind briefly clouding over at images of his tombstone. He hesitated, his earlier annoyance softening into something more uncertain.

“Your folks know you’re out here?” he asked.

“They’re dead.”

You spoke absently, focusing instead on fixing his shoddy work. The silence that followed was thick. He shifted awkwardly, staring at the dirt before mumbling, “Oh. Uhm… I’m sorry.”

You only nodded, hands deftly straightened the plank before nailing it in place

“I guess that looks better, thank you," He cleared his throat, "for helpin' me, I mean."

"No problem," you replied, giving the fence a once-over before your gaze caught something on the ground beside him 

You bent down, picking it up, “What’s this?”

The boy’s pale face turned a shade of pink, “Oh, that’s–it’s nothing.”

You suppressed a chuckle at his awkwardness, you were no charmer yourself, but you figured he hadn't much experience talking to people, seeing as there weren't any other kids around.

You flipped it over, inspecting the worn cover. “A western?”

“It’s…stupid,” he muttered, scuffing his boot against the dirt.

“I love westerns,” You mused.

He seemed to perk up a bit, “Really?” 

“Sure,” you smiled, flipping through the pages, “I used to have a ton of these back home.” 

The boy scratched the back of his neck, shifting back and forth for a moment, “You can have it, if you want.”

You grinned, tucking the book into the bag on your saddle.

“Thanks, uh-"

“Jack,” he said, “Jack Marston.”

You mounted your horse, “I’ll make sure to bring it back to you, Jack Marston.”

With not much to do, you returned a few times after that, sometimes watching Jack work on things from behind the fence, other times offering unsolicited advice.

“That beam’s not level.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“No you don’t.”

Jack would groan, mutter something under his breath, but inevitably, he’d adjust whatever you pointed out or let you take the reins altogether.

“So, you do all this stuff at home too?” he asked, stepping aside as you fixed the wheel on a broken wagon.

You laughed, shaking your head, “Don’t have one, not anymore at least.” Your parents were so neck deep in loans, the bank had taken everything away before their bodies even hit the ground.

Jack’s expression sobered slightly, but he nodded, filing that piece of information away without prying.

The next time you rode up to Beecher’s Hope, you noticed Jack standing stiffly beside an older man. He was tall, skin weathered under Blackwater's sun which only emphasized the lighter scars across his face. He had the same dark and deep set eyes as the boy next to him.

You approached, despite feeling a bit nervous under his firm stare, “Afternoon, sir.”

“Afternoon,” he smiled, tipping his hat, “I’m John, the boy’s father.”

You nodded, glancing between them. “Figured you were. You two look a lot alike.”

John snorted, giving Jack’s shoulder a rough pat, “Poor kid.”

“Pa," Jack griped.

You looked to Jack who avoided your gaze, suddenly finding the dirt beneath him very interesting. Maybe he told his father about you, maybe he was here to shoo you off like everyone else did. "My son here tells me your fairly decent at fixin' things, and I’d love to hire you if you're interested.” You were torn from your thoughts, a job? You couldn’t remember the last time anyone gave you a chance at finishing your sentence let alone give you a job offer.

“Wait-really?” You asked, looking at him like he'd grown two heads.

“Really,” John replied before he hesitated for a moment, “but I ain’t sure about our extra hand bein’ a little girl. I mean, what’re you, twelve?” "Fourteen. If you’re anything like your son, you’re gonna need a lot more than an extra hand.” You chuckled, motioning to Jack who sputtered while John barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “You got some nerve, kid.”

“So, you hirin’?” You asked, clasping your hands together, trying your best to contain your excitement.

John looked at you for a moment, before relenting, “What the hell,” he extended his hand, “We’ll clear out a room for you. You can move in soon as it’s ready.”

You took his hand, “Thank you, Mr. Marston.”

You hurried toward your horse, mounting it before looking at Jack, 

“Sorry for throwin' you under the bus Jack, but hey, it worked!” You grinned.  

"Sure did," John mused, placing a playfully rough hand on Jack's shoulder.

Jack huffed, as he rolled his eyes and shrugged him off. 

As you rode off, John turned to his son, “I like her! That attitude...she's gonna give you a hard time, son.”

“I hope not,” Jack exhaled as they head back into the house.

Life at Beecher’s Hope quickly settled into a rhythm, one that felt strangely comforting despite the unfamiliarity of it all. Mornings began with the golden sun spilling over the horizon, its warmth chasing away the chill of dawn. 

You would wake early, often beating Jack to the barn. The both of you bickered over who did daily chores the best, often asking John to choose and he’d dismiss you both, muttering about how he’s getting too old for this. 

John quickly learned that, despite his initial reservations, you were more than capable.

He’d often find you working on the things he told you not to in case you'd 'mess it up', shaking his head in amusement when you proved to be just as stubborn as he was.

“Y’know, I was worried about bringin’ you on. Thought maybe you’d up and run off after seeing the workload," He remarked one afternoon as you helped him shovel the barn, "Or Uncle," he added.

You chuckled, “it’s going to take a lot more than a lazy old drunk to get me out of here, Mister.”

He chuckled, giving you a playful jab as he went to fetch some more hay. 

Mrs. Marston, on the other hand, had taken to treating you like a daughter. When you weren’t outside helping John, she fussed about you needing to sit or lie down. It was nice having a motherly figure after being on your own for so long, but being as restless as you were, you insisted on keeping busy with her too.

“You’re makin' things real easy for us.” She grinned one evening as the two of you worked on fixing up some dinner. “And Jack’s taken a real liking to you.” She added quietly as you stirred the stew.

You glanced up, cheeks warming slightly, “Oh–well he’s a good friend...real smart too.”

“Mhm,” Abigail hummed, voice tinged with an amusement you tried your best to ignore.

Jack, true to his word, really had become one of your closest companions. In the evenings, when work was done and the sky was painted in shades of pink and orange, the two of you would race each other to the hillside near the house, books in hand. 

Sometimes you read aloud to one another, breaking into silly voices, other times you simply sat in comfortable silence, flipping through pages until the light outside dimmed.

“You’ ever thought about writing your own stories?” Jack asked one night as the two of you lay on your backs in the hayloft, staring at the rafters above.

You thought about it for a moment, “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

Jack sat up, “We can figure one out together?”

Just then a little memory came back to you,

“My Ma' and I used to play this game where we'd come up with stories by finishing each other's sentences."

“That sounds fun," Jack said.

"Yeah," you reminisced, before scooting closer, "Okay, you start.”

Jack nodded, eyes searching around as he thought for a moment, “Once upon a time in the West…” he began.

“There were two cowboys," you continued.

"And their names were…” Jack looked at you expectantly.

You paused, before snickering, “John and Uncle.” 

The two of you’d laugh your heads off over the hilariously awful protagonist duo, mustering up a fairly compelling plot if it weren't for the odd predicaments and crude dialogue sprinkled in between.

Your fun was interrupted when Abigail's piercing voice hollered at the both of you from the porch to come inside, scolding you two for staying out so late. The both of you would obey, entering the house straight faced, bursting out laughing the second she turned away. 

On warmer nights, you would stretch out in the grass just beyond the house, gazing up at the sky. The stars stretched across the heavens, twinkling in the dark like tiny beacons. Jack would point out constellations, his voice quiet as he recounted the stories behind them.

“This one here,” he murmured, tracing the shape of Orion’s Belt with his finger, “Pa’ used to tell me it was a hunter…”

He would ramble on about the ancient stories of the constellations, his voice fading into the hum of cicadas and crickets as the world grew darker around you, slipping into the comfort of your dreams.

2 years later...

“You know, you keep brushing that horse any harder, poor thing's gonna be bald.”

Jack scoffed, not even bothering to look up from the mare he was tending to, “Oh, I’m sorry, did I ask for an expert opinion?”

You smirked, dragging a brush through your own horse’s mane. You had half a mind to flick some hay at him, but you let it slide, for now.

For a few moments, the only sound was the steady strokes of brushes and the occasional rustle from the horses shifting in their stalls. It was comfortable, the back-and-forth, the both of you never letting the other get too comfortable. As fun as it was, things just felt calmer on that night.

Jack was the first to break the lull. “You ever think about the future, like ten years from now?”

You were caught off guard at the suddenness of the question but answered nonetheless, “I don’t even know what’s gonna happen ten days from now.”

He was quiet for a moment, running a hand down the mare’s neck as he glanced at you.

“I do,” he admitted. “I think about it a lot. See myself bein’ a lawyer.”

You blinked. Of all the things you expected him to say; writer, rancher, bounty hunter...a lawyer wasn’t one of them.

“A lawyer?”

“Why not," he shrugged, "Ma' always told me I'd be one cause I like reading and arguing,” he added, nudging you with his shoulder.

"Yeah, I guess that does makes sense," You considered.

"With all that money, I could take care of Ma and Pa. I can buy you a little work shack," he pondered, "Have our own carpenter on the ranch.” He chuckled.

You let out a small breath at his words, he was so optimistic, sometimes it bordered on naive, but the sentiment warmed your heart nonetheless.

A small laugh left you before you could stop it, "I'll be following in Uncle's footsteps, free loadin' off of y'all."

Jack looked at you pointedly and you snickered, “I’m only kiddin'.”

"You better be," Jack huffed, but there was no real heat behind the words.

You spoke after another moment of silence, “Never really thought about all that though. Guess I figured the future wasn’t really mine to think about.”

Jack stilled, “You don’t have to think that way. You’re gonna be here, with me.”

It was quick, unfiltered, and the second he realized what he’d just said, a flush crept up his neck. He turned away, suddenly very invested in adjusting the saddle on the mare.

If there was one thing both you and Jack feared, it was being alone, abandoned. He guessed that's what made him want to help you all those years ago,

“Really?” You asked.

“I’m not just gonna leave you.” he muttered with a shrug.

You felt a flush of your own creep up on your face, it was nice having someone who cared about you the way Jack did, “Thanks."

That was all you needed to say.

The both of you startled when you heard John clear his throat from behind you both.

Jack jumped so fast he nearly knocked over the bucket beside him. You turned, and there he was, leaning against the barn door, something somber in his eyes.

“Didn't mean to startle you two, but I need to talk to you,” John said as he approached.

You exchanged a glance with Jack before setting your brush aside, “What’s goin’ on?”

John sighed, reaching into his coat pocket. He pulled out a folded letter, turning it over in his hands before finally looking at you, “Got a letter from a woman who claims to be your aunt. Says she’s been lookin’ for you.”

Your stomach twisted. 

“She lives near Strawberry now. Found out what happened to your folks and she wants to take you in.” He spoke carefully, as if not wanting to overwhelm you, “Plan on riding to her cabin and seeing if she’s safe, you know, right in the head and all.” He added, attempting to make you smile but your mind was elsewhere.

Your world, the one that had just started feeling stable, tilted all over again. Sure, you loved your aunt, she was kind to you growing up, but she was always moving around, 'free spirited' as your mother liked to put it. You sighed shakily, dreading the thought of having to start over again.

John looked at you with something almost apologetic in his eyes, before he gently wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “Let's talk some more in the house.”

You nodded, feeling Jack’s gaze on you, but were unable to meet it just yet. The future, once distant and uncertain, was suddenly pressing down on you, demanding yet another change you weren’t sure you were ready to make.

The morning air was crisp as you stood near the packed wagon. John was finishing up putting the last of your things in the back while Abigail, Uncle, and Jack gathered nearby to see you off.

You had come to terms with leaving. The Marston's had given you a home when you needed it most, and you would always be grateful, but you were eager to be with the last of your family. 

Still, the thought of leaving Jack stung the most. He had been your first real friend, and now, you weren’t sure when you’d see him again.

“Aw, come here,” Abigail murmured, pulling you out of your thoughts and into a tight embrace.

“Won’t have anyone to complain to about these boys anymore,” She chuckled as she pulled away, wiping the corners of her glistening eyes.

Uncle tutted, “You’ll do that with the girl gone anyway!"

Abigail smacked the old man on the shoulder as you and Jack shared a humorous look. As useless and odd as he was, you were going to miss Uncle. "Wagon's all packed," John grunted, easing himself up the steps to hold onto the reigns.

You nodded, about to leave when Jack stepped forward, “Here! I almost forgot,” he said.

You looked down to see him holding out a small, leather-bound journal, “For the trip. Don’t open it ‘til you get there.”

“Alright,” you took it carefully, before lightly tapping his chest with the book, “But you better write to me.”

He smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Only if you promise to try and visit.”

You nodded, “I promise.”

With one last glance at them all, Abigail’s sad smile, Uncle’s lazy wave, and Jack’s uncertain look, you climbed into the wagon.

The journey to North was fairly quiet. Mr. Marston wasn’t much for conversation, but his presence was always calming. 

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, noticing you were quieter than usual, before speaking up, “You know, I know a thing or two about startin’ over. Hell, I’ve lived more lives than I can keep count of.”

He tutted, head tilting as if replaying the past few years over in his mind, "Took a while, but I found my place," he mused, before looking over at where you sat, "You will too, I know it."

“I hope so,” you said, looking at the trees whirring by.

When you finally arrived at your aunt’s house, she was already outside waiting, arms open and eyes shining with unshed tears.

After greeting her and brushing off her endless praise, John helped you unload, carrying your trunk inside.

When it came time for him to leave, you were unsure of how to convey all that was on your mind. You were going to miss him, his family, the ranch. You were grateful, scared, uncertain.

You opted for throwing your arms around his middle, hugging him tightly, not ready to let go just yet.

He stiffened for only a second before returning the embrace, patting your back gently as he sensed you're anxiety,

“Gonna be just fine, kid.” He murmured.

Although you felt a lump form in your throat, your muscles relaxed as you nodded. Mr. Marston knew what it was like to be in your shoes, always had a way of reminding you it wasn’t the end of the world. You were going to miss that.

After you pulled away, he tapped the brim of your hat with a deft hand, “You stay out of trouble now, Miss.”

You fixed your now crooked hat, “You too, Mr. Marston.”

He gave you a small salute before heading off, leaving you standing at the doorway of your new home before your aunt coaxed you to come inside and eat.

After settling in later that night, you finally pulled out that journal Jack had given you. Flipping it open, you grinned at the first few words on the first page, 

‘Once upon a time in the west there were two cowboys named John and Uncle…’

Followed by endless pages full of your shared stories, some silly, some a little more serious. Some had little sketches in the margins, others had notes about how he’d come up with an idea, all carefully written in Jack’s handwriting.

You ran your fingers over the ink, before plopping down on your bed to read the journal in it's entirety.

3 years later...

The night air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth as you sat on the porch beside your aunt, the distant rustling of trees filling the silence between you. 

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” she noted, sipping from her tin cup. “Got something on your mind?”

You hesitated for a moment before sighing, glancing down at the warm tea cupped between your hands. “Just thinkin' about how beautiful this place is,” you admitted. “It’s peaceful. But-”

“But you still miss Blackwater,” she finished knowingly.

A sheepish smile tugged at your lips, “Yeah. It was desolate, sure, but it had its own charm y’know?”

Your aunt hummed in understanding, setting her cup down on the railing.

“I read something in the paper the other day,” she began, stretching her legs out in front of her. “Some government agent from Blackwater was shot dead. A Ross, I believe?”

Your breath caught in your throat and you turned sharply to your aunt, “What?”

She yawned, seemingly unaware of your inner turmoil, “Edgar Ross, I think it was? Paper said he was gunned down.”

Jack.

Your mind reeled back to the long-forgotten letters, the last few that you had sent without a reply. A quiet void had replaced his once-constant updates on Uncle's shenanigans, new books he’d read, and notes informing you that ‘Ma’ and Pa’ say Hi.’ 

You thought back to your aunt breaking the news to you, about Mr. and Mrs. Marston's death. An unbearable grief you hadn’t felt in the years since your parents' death had settled in your chest the day you learned they were really gone.

Jack had always admired the heroes in those dime novels, the men who avenged their fathers with unwavering conviction. If Jack had truly done this, if he had killed Ross, what did that mean for him now?

You swallowed thickly, trying to steady your voice, 

“Do you know anything else?” 

“Not much. They found his body near some riverbank.” She leaned back into her chair with a soft sigh,

“Whoever did it, I can’t say I blame ‘em."

You stared at her, startled. She glanced at you with a small, knowing smile,

"What goes around comes around, right?" She chuckled, taking another sip of her tea.

You looked away, your throat tightening as you turned your gaze back to the endless stretch of stars above.

A few weeks later your aunt had gone on a trip, so you decided to ride out to Blackwater while she was gone. You wanted to find out about Jack’s whereabouts from some of the locals first, not wanting to ride all the way to Beecher's Hope only to find it empty. After asking around and getting no clear answer, you decided to check the saloon though you hadn’t much hope he was going to be there. 

Laughter and drunken murmurs filled the air, the clatter of glasses punctuating the atmosphere. You weaved through the crowd, before sitting down at a table and scanning faces for what seemed like hours.

You got up and sighed in defeat. Then, just as you were about to turn around and leave, someone barreled into you. You flinched as a cold splash of liquor soaked into your coat sleeve.

“Watch it, lady!” A voice droned.

You bristled, looking up, “Excuse me?”

The man, taller, rough around the edges, looked down at you, eyes shadowed beneath the brim of his hat. You could see the freckles dusting his nose, small beard covering his jaw. That voice is familiar, and his hat, isn’t that Mr. Marston’s? You thought.

His lips quirked up as he leaned in closer, breath reeking of liquor, "You know, look just like a girl I used to know!" he drawled over the saloons noise, words slurring together slightly.

You rolled your eyes, taking off your stained coat, "I bet I do."

"Your doin’ terrible things to my hormones, miss-Woah!"

He was cut off when you grabbed his wrist, dragging him towards the exit. You needed to get this boy in his right mind. Quickly, before any more god awful pick-up lines graced your ears.

"Someone's eager," He slurred, tripping over his feet.

“Eager to smack you," you muttered, pushing past a few curious onlookers, "We’re talkin’ outside.”

He staggered as you pulled him through the swinging saloon doors, the cool night air slapping you both in the face. 

Before he could get another word in, you took the hat off his head and gripped the long hair at the nape of his neck, before dipping his head into a bucket of water just outside the saloon doors. He sputtered, gasping for his breathe as you pulled him back up for a breather, "The hell! What’s wrong with you, Lady?!"

"It's not Lady!" you groan. He winced, trying to dodge your hand as you smacked his shoulder.

"It's me," you said, sharply gesturing to your face.

His breath hitched, Adam’s apple bobbing as recognition dawned on him, "I-you..." he trailed off.

You crossed your arms over your chest as you took his state in fully, eyes scanning him disapprovingly. You barely recognized him. His once-boyish face was hardened, sharper, with stubble covering his jaw and upper lip. His hair was longer, messier, his clothes wrinkled and worn like he hadn’t cared for them in weeks. And his eyes were dark and tired, swimming in hollowness.

“What are you doin’ here?” He asked, tone suddenly laced with annoyance.

“I could ask you the same,” you shot back. “I wrote to you! Why didn’t you answer me?”

Jack exhaled sharply, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, as if the weight of your presence was too much, “Jesus,” he muttered, “I don’t know…I just—I didn’t think you’d—” He groaned, rubbing his soaked face as if still trying to catch up.

You held back, maybe you were being a bit harsh. After all, he was clearly unwell, and here you were berating him, “I'm—sorry for yelling,"

You took notice of the dark purple circles under his eyes, as he blinked rapidly to escape his haze.

"Let's just get you home, alright?"

His shoulders tensed.

It was like a switch flipped. Whatever confusion or vulnerability had cracked through, vanished in an instant.

His expression hardened, and he took a deliberate step back, shaking his head. “No. No, I don’t need this.”

“Need what?”

“This,” he snapped, gesturing wildly between you. “You showin’ up here, lookin’ at me like that, like you got some kinda right to fix me.”

Your brows furrowed. “I never said—”

Jack scoffed, jaw clenched. “I didn’t ask you to come here, alright? I don’t need your pity or advice—just leave me alone!”

You swallowed, before shaking your head. “Come on, you don’t mean that.”

Jack laughed, but it was hollow, bitter. “Yeah? Maybe I do.”

He turned, already stepping away. “Just—Go home, alright?”

He was halfway up the steps to the saloon, eager to disappear back into the dimly lit haze of liquor and forget this ever happened.

For a moment you thought to hell with it all, unable to see past the angry shell of a boy you used to know. But then you remembered how bitter you were when you lost everything, how Jack and his family seemingly put things back together.

And now, that same boy who’d ramble about the constellations till you fell asleep, the one who’d make you laugh over silly stories, and stammer over his words when he got nervous, had no one left.

The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them,

“I love you, you fool!”

Jack froze.

“I don’t care how much you don’t wanna see me,” you added quietly.

He turned to face you, expression unreadable.

You looked away, blinking back tears, “You said you weren’t gonna leave me, so I’m not gonna leave you either.”

Jack shifted back and forth, as if thinking of what to do now, before exhaling sharply as he walked past you without another word, heading toward the stables instead. You watched him go dejectedly, you knew you shouldn't have come here.

Suddenly, he turned around like he was half expecting you to follow him, faltering when he was met with the sight of you standing in the same spot.

“I know my backside’s real purdy, but maybe you can get a better look at if you actually follow me.” He said, though his tone was gentler than it was moments ago as he rested his hands on his hips.

You perked up a bit, realizing he wasn’t just sending you away, before shaking your head in amusement at his words.

“Where we going?” You asked quietly as the two of you mounted your horses.

“Home.” He grumbled, shooting you a half hearted glare.

“If you weren’t so drunk, I’d smack that attitude right out of you.” You huffed, spurring your horse on.

“I guess I’ll just stay drunk then!” he hollered from behind you.

In an odd way, your little verbal sparring match made things feel a little more like old times.

Beecher’s Hope was a graveyard of memories.

The fences had rotted, weeds tangled through the soil where crops used to be, and the barn doors hung open, swaying in the wind. It was silent now, save for the distant hoot of an owl and the occasional rustling of the trees. It was like ranch had died with Uncle and Mr. and Mrs. Marston. 

"Happy now?" He asked, motioning to the ranch.

“Jolly,” you muttered under your breath. 

You walked the barn as Jack released a heavy sigh, trailing behind you silently as you climbed up the barn ladder to the hayloft. 

He sat with his back against the wall, knees bent. For a while, the two of you just listened to the wind howl through the cracks in the barn walls.

Then you broke the silence.

“I heard about Ross.”

Jack’s jaw tensed, “Don't know what you’re talkin’ about.”

You raised an eyebrow, noticing the familiar way his dark eyes flitted around whenever he was fibbing, “You’re a terrible liar.”

His shoulders slumped, “Ain’t no way they’ll trace it back to me. I made sure.”

You studied him for a moment before sighing, “Did I ever tell you my parents were killed by a couple of thieves,” you asked. Jack turned to you then, looking fully sober for the first time that night,

“God, I just–I wanted them dead. Thought it’d make things right. But when I saw them hang, all I felt was empty and even angrier than before," you sighed, feeling your chest ache at the memory.

You tapped your boot with his, "But then I met you.”

Jack flushed a little under the brim of his hat, swallowing thickly as he kept his gaze down at his hands.

“I guess revenge isn't as glorious as those storybook heroes make it,” You pondered as you looked out the barn window.

Jacks voice was barely above a whisper, “Ma used to always say something like that that to Pa.”

He huffed, reminiscing her words, repeating them aloud, “Stop tryna be some damn storybook hero.” 

You chuckled, remembering her piercing voice and John's sarcasm.

“You really are like Mr. Marston.”

Jack scoffed, but there was a hint of a smile there, the one that made his eyes spark a bit, hidden beneath all that bitterness.

You grinned as memories of the two of them standing in front of you years ago flooded back, “I thought you’d stay scrawny forever, but now you’re bigger than he was. What the hell do they put in the beer at that saloon?”

Jack groaned, suppressing the grin tugging at his lips as he took off his hat and ruffled his hair tiredly, “I don't know, but it's got a hell of a hold on me."

You sat up a little, “You won't even have time think about that saloon anymore."

Jack furrowed his brows, looking at you in confusion. "We're starting work on this place tomorrow, so I'm hoping you finally learned how to build,” You clarify, giving him a pointed look.

Jack huffed, “How couldn’t I? With you annoyin' me about it all the ti—.”

You quickly gripped the hat sitting on his lap and began whacking him with it as he dodged you, apologizing through breathy chuckles—you had missed that sound.

You finally relented as the two of you let out the last of your giggles, “That was for all those nasty pick up lines at the bar.”

“Sorry,” Jack muttered quietly, face flushing a little.

“I mean, seriously, where the hell’d you learn all that?” You tutted.

“Uncle,” Jack grumbled, “I only remember all the gross stuff he taught me when I’m out of it.”

“I can tell,” you chuckled softly.

He yawned, running a hand down his face.

“You wanna head to the house?” you ask, ready to get up, but he grabbed your arm lightly to stop you. 

“No, I'm good. I mean—I don’t sleep too well anyways.” He admitted, avoiding your gaze. You felt a little jab of sympathy go through your chest at his confession.

Without a word, you reached into your bag and pulled out a book, flipping to the first page,

“Let’s read,” you murmured, laying down to plop your head on a small bail of hay, “Like we used to.”

Jack hesitated, still stiff.

You turned to the first page before looking at him expectantly, “You're just going to sit there and stare?"

With a reluctant sigh, he laid back beside you, shifting uncomfortably as he kept a careful distance. But as you began reading, he felt himself relax.

The words blurred together, your voice a gentle hum in the quiet night. He fought it at first, but sleep crept up on him, tugging his eyelids lower and lower until his head slumped against your shoulder.

By the time you reached the end of the first chapter, Jack had finally let go. His breath evened out, the tension in his body easing as exhaustion won out. 

You glanced down at him, his breath steady, scowl fading away as the faintest trace of peace settled over his face. He looked better like this, closer to the boy you used to know.

You yawned, closing your eyes and falling into a deep sleep of your own.

The morning light filtered through the cracks in the barn, casting long streaks of gold over the hay-strewn floor. Jack stirred sluggishly, his body heavy with sleep, head pounding and mind foggy from exhaustion.

For a moment, he almost believed it had all been a dream. That you'd never come back and just about poured your heart out to him, that he’d just drank too much and fantasized the whole damn thing.

But then he felt it, a warm weight on his chest.

His eyes cracked open, and there you were, head resting right over his heart.

Jack stilled, barely breathing. Then he sighed, trying to calm the hammering of his heart under your head.

After a moment, he craned his head a little to look down at you, observing in detail now that the cloudiness of the alcohol had worn off.

You’d grown, filled out your features beautifully, but in so many ways, you were still the same girl he was familiar with. Stubborn and too damn persistent for your own good.

Jack groaned as memories of the night before came flooding back. He had been such a drunken asshole back at the saloon and yet, you came back and…loved him.

He cursed himself for not saying it back right then and there. Though he couldn't understand why a girl like you saw anything in him, he knew he felt the same way.

I’ll just have to find the right moment to say it back. He thought to himself.

————

Four Weeks Later…

Jack hadn’t touched a bottle in weeks. It wasn’t easy, particularly in the first few days. When he wasn't sluggishly moving around, he was abrasive. One day he snapped out of nowhere at the slightest disagreement, only to be overwhelmed by guilt right after seeing you wince slightly before walking off to tend the animals.

You knew it was probably a mixture of the withdrawals and grief, so you'd distance yourself on those days, but it hurt nonetheless. Jack never got that way in the past, sure you bickered, but he always made sure to not cross the line or raise his voice.

He made it up to you by rising early and getting a head start on his share of work so he could finish yours by noon. He even walked to a nearby lake where a few Lillies grew, plucking a few and leaving them on the table for you. He’d shrug, saying he just so happened to 'have the extra time' when you'd thank him.

Now, there was hardly any time to sit and dwell on the past. His body was sore in ways he hadn’t felt in years, but his mind felt clearer than it had in a long time and the ranch was beginning to look as lively as it did before. He had even gone back to reading, something he’d neglected in his haze of grief.

He sat on the porch, squinting as he read his book under afternoon sun. It was a romance, not something he normally reached for, but he liked it.

Maybe it was because protagonists reminded him of the two of you. Two childhood friends who drifted apart only to find each other again years later. There was something comforting about it, something familiar.

“Come on, Jack! These fences ain’t gonna fix themselves.”

Jack set the book aside, “You ever think maybe they should? Damn things break every other week.”

You shot him a look. “And whose fault is that?”

Jacked rolled his eyes but followed you out anyway.

You worked side by side, driving nails into wood, replacing broken beams.

You were giving him grief about a crooked post when Jack paused, leaning against it with an amused smile, "I was going to say this reminds me of when we met, but I don't remember you being this insufferable.” “That's funny because you're just as useless as I remember," You retorted, taking the hammer from him.

Jack took notice to the way you bit the inside of your lip to hide a grin. He definitely noticed the way his heart lurched when your hand accidentally brushed against his, the way the air between you felt heavier than it used to.

By the time you finished, it was growing dark. Jack leaned against the post, exhaling slowly. You did the same, standing just close enough for your shoulders to touch. As he watched the sun dipping below the horizon, setting the sky ablaze with reds and golds, casting the endless fields in front of him in a similar hue, he thought to what his father told him years ago when he'd first moved here. "There's a lot of ugly in this world. But there sure as hell is a lot of beauty! You'll see it better when you get older. It's tough at your age. Just land and light. But to me it's...it's life." It's life.

For the first time, he was beginning to understand what that meant. He was torn from his thoughts when you broke the silence,

"Saw you reading a book earlier, what's it about?"

He huffed, “A romance, if you can believe that.”

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the thought of his broody self reading a romance.

"Well do you wanna know or not?" Jack asked exasperatedly.

"I'm sorry, continue—please," you said, regaining your composure. He rolled his eyes, gaze fixed on the sunset. “It’s about these two childhood friends. Went their separate ways, and ended up finding each other again.”

You glanced at him, teasing smile faltering just a little, “Oh, that actually sounds nice.”

“It is," He nodded, swallowing thickly.

“I—I think I like it because…well,” He hesitated, tapping his fingers nervously against the wooden beam behind him, “It reminds me of us. The way they can’t help but come back to each other.”

Your breath caught when Jack pushed himself off the post to face you fully. He opened his mouth, then closed it again with a shake of his head. He had so much to say, but he didn’t know where to start.

Instead, he leaned down and closed the space between you.

You barely had time to think before his lips landed on yours, soft and warm and real. You tensed for half a second, hands stilling mid air. But then you melted, reaching your arms around his shoulders and holding on like he was the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth.

When you finally pulled apart, you avoided his gaze as you tried to calm the red hot blood rushing to your face.

“I love you.” He blurted out, eyes searching for yours.

That didn’t help your predicament.

“Took you long enough,” You huffed, feeling your heart beat out of your chest.

“I know,” He mumbled under his breath, "I-I'm sorry. I didn't know how to—“ "Don't be, I love you too.” You said, placing a gentle peck on his cheek, "I’m just messing with you."

He nodded, shoulders untensing as he leaned back on the post and lightly kicked at the dirt under his boots.

That made you smile, he always did that when he was flustered.

After a few moments, the two of you decided it was time to warm up inside the cabin, maybe eat some dinner. As he watched you enter the house, still a bit jittery from the kiss, he was hit with a familiar feeling, one that warmed his heart differently.

After his parents died, the cabin was just a house, an empty void. With you it felt lively, comforting. It felt like home. Jack chuckled softly, wondering if that was how his father felt seeing his mother enter the same house he built after their time apart.

He stopped in his tracks as you disappeared inside the kitchen, noticing something peeking out of your bag on the couch near the fireplace.

Jack hesitated, before plopping down on the couch and gently pulling it free, his fingers running over the worn cover. He flipped it open, scanning the familiar ink on the first few pages by the light of the hearth.

A quiet, almost disbelieving chuckle left him, his lips curling into a small, rare smile.

There it was,

'Once upon a time in the West...'

Jack Marston, a lonely cowboy, walks into a bar...only to meet the saloon's new girl who is just as lonely as he is, maybe it's love at first sight or maybe he's had too much to drink.

Jack Marston (1914) x f!reader

warning: mentions of prostitution, drinking, death/loss, comfort and fluff, tension and kissing, kind of like raunchy like whimpering and stuff, absolutely painfully lovesick Jack.

a/n: fluffy and sad but kinda raunchy bcos I just love Jack, baffles me that this poor boy is my age just want to give him a big kiss and make him some dinner 🫶

-> part 2 to this idea is now up!! x

Jack Marston. A troubled, nineteen year old boy with a death wish. His mother and father were both gone, uncle too. Now he was alone, which he hated, he was rendered completely alone.

Yet, he was still an awkward young man who just wanted company, he probably needed it after all the suffering he had endured.

So there he was, wandering the streets of Blackwater. The lonesome cowboy. He gave awkward, toothy smiles to passers by which contradicted the outlawish exterior he adorned.

His boots clicked along the street, his steps scraped across the ground. The evening breeze was cool, it sent a chill down his spine. His beige, worn jacket hung lazily over his shoulders and his jeans were loose around his waist, but held up by his father's gun belt.

His callous fingers ran over his hair as he slipped his hat off upon entering the saloon, aiming the drink for the evening and enjoy a warm meal. The nights were tough at Beechers Hope, left to fix himself dinner due to the loss of his mother's home cooking. The loneliness crept in through the cracks and crevices.

He dragged himself through the small crowd to the bar, attempting to find an empty stool when his eyes met hers. Wide and full of wonder, yet tainted by so much hurt.

She must have been his age, both young and out of place in such a worn and timely saloon. Her skin looked so soft, so different to his own, so scarred and marred. Freckled adorned her skin like stars in the night sky.

Her hair hung over her shoulders in such a beautiful manner he felt his heart rate increase. He hadn't had a girlfriend before, sure he had kissed a girl before but never anything more. But he was so alone, and all he wanted was to be like his mother and father.

Little did he know she was just as alone as he was. She had lost her parents, a tragic accident and illness took them from her, and she was completely alone. It was her first night working the saloon, she wore an old dress another woman had leant her, a ridiculously tight corset that felt as if it was holding her together yet it was probably snapping her ribs. He noticed the way she sat awkwardly trying to cover her cleavage with her hair, it sparked a wave of sympathy through him, she was anxious and didn't want a single soul to notice her.

He thought she was beautiful, like an angel, the prettiest girl he had ever seen. He felt his jaw go slack as he watched her fiddle with her hair and the lace of her corset. A simple, silver locket hung around her neck, lying gracefully on her collar bones.

After a moment of contemplation, he sat down beside her and awkwardly cleared his throat. The barman automatically poured his usual beverage, but she kept her eyes on the window behind the bar.

"I...ah, evenin' lady." He mumbled shyly as he felt his cheeks flush beneath his facial hair. He was desperate for her attention, to be closer to her, not in a strange way just in a way that he felt as if she would understand him. She wouldn't find his need to closeness odd.

"Evenin' Mister," She replied quietly, reluctantly turning her gaze to him, "You're looking for some company?"

His fingers gently found the rim of his glass as he nodded awkwardly, "Mhm...if yer offering?"

He couldn't bring himself to look at her yet, he wanted to steal another glance but he felt foolish. She probably spent her evenings with the older, better looking ranchers who frequented to saloon. She probably had no interest in an awkward, lonely outlaw who had never been with a girl before.

She nodded wordlessly, "I...I suppose I am offering-" Her words were shy, timid and almost strained. She seemed bothered by something, but the man behind the bar cut her off.

"This is our latest girl, Marston...look at her ain't she just as sweet as pie..." His words were sweet yet laced with something so sickening, Jack could feel it in the back of his throat.

"I...I...follow me then," She mumbled quietly before adding, "My rooms upstairs with the other girls..."

He nodded wordlessly and gently reached for her hand and murmured, "I'm Jack..." as he let her lead him upstairs.

She mumbled her name quietly to him and laced her fingers with his. She seemed genuinely scared or overly timid, it made him even more nervous. All he wanted was to feel loved, he wanted someone to care for him.

"Just up here, Jack..." She mumbled quietly as she unlocked the door to the small room and pulled him inside.

Once inside, his hands found her hips clumisly and he lean closer to press his lips to hers. They were chapped, from biting at them due to nerves, and he tasted like whiskey. His lips moved against her in a tender, yet shy way but a slight hint of desperation. His callous hands glided up to hers jaw to hold her in place as he kisses her.

Her plump and soft lips glided over his and gently parted to welcome his tongue, she tasted of sweet wine and toothpaste. Her kiss was gentle and shy, it lacked confidence or self assurance. He let his tongue explore her mouth as he quietly whimpered into her mouth with slight shame.

He pulled away slightly and whispered, "...'m sorry..." as he blushed deeply over his needy and breathless state, his voice resembling his gentle whimper from before.

"It's okay...I...well your doing okay, I think?" She mumbled quietly as she gently petted his hair in a tender manner, a sensation he hadn't felt for a long time. It earned her a faint whimper as he gently snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her into him.

"You think?" He mumbled softly, "Surely yer usual men ain't whimpering like a hurt dog..." as he buried his nose in her hair and held her tightly, so softly and gently like he wanted to keep her close and safe.

"You're my first, Jack..." She whispered softly as she gently nestled into his chest and sniffled softly, hot tears pouring down her cheeks. She was so scared, so shy, but he made her feel safer than most of the other men in the saloon ever would.

"Wait...er, me?" He mumbled before pulling away slightly to just stare awkwardly as he held her shoulders, "I'm yer first client...no sugar, I'll go...I don't think...I mean, I ain't ever touched a girl...I shouldn't be the one to take yer innocence..."

She nodded quietly and pulled away sniffling and pushing tears away, "I'm sorry...should have told you."

He shook his head and whispered, "C'mere..." as he tried to coax her closer, "Let me help yer wipe those tears, sugar."

She nodded wordlessly and sat down on the bed and let him perch next to her, one arm around her waist and the other hand rested on her cheek go brush away her tears.

"Yer really pretty...prettiest girl I've ever seen." He murmured quietly as he pushed away her tears, his eyes were full of awe.

"Thank you, Jack..." She mumbled softly as she leant into his caring hand, "'m sorry I got upset...my parents passed away, that's why I'm here...just got scared, I should have told you I haven't ever been with a boy before..."

"It's okay, sugar...like I said, I've never neither...I'll help tidy you up and I'll go..." He mumbled softly as he leant closer to gently stroke her hair.

She shook her head softly and whispered, "Please stay...I'd like it if you did, you don't have to pay a single dollar...just, keep me company?" Her voice wavered slightly as she looked at him with desperate eyes.

"I...I...as long as yer sure," He mumbled softly as he gently wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

"Mhm...you're very kind, sweet even," She mumbled softly as she gently nestled her nose against his neck, "Are you a rancher?"

He chucked softly and nodded, "Taken over my Pa's ranch...Beecher's Hope...him and my Ma passed a while ago..." His voice was a soft whisper as his tone trembled slightly at the mention of his parents.

"Oh...I'm sorry for your loss," She murmured softly, her arms snaking around his neck as she drew him close. Her head nestled against his shoulder and her fingers gently toying with his hair.

"Thank you sugar...guess we have that in common," He mumbled gently against her hair before gently kissing the crown of her hair.

She sniffled softly and gently nuzzles her nose against his jaw, her fingers gently tugging on his hair softly. He whined softly and whispered, "That's nice, sugar...feels nice when you do that..." His cheeks still burning a deep crimson.

She gently iched his scalp and toyed with his locks to hear his soft noises and feel the way he urged her closer, unable to understand why he needed her impossibly close.

"Don't go..." He whispered as his voice trembled, as if he was finally letting someone in to comfort him.

"As long as you don't go..." She whispered back as she pressed a kiss to his scruffy jaw, her lips were like gentle angel kisses to his skin to fix the pasts scars and wounds.

"I...I don't want to leave you here," He murmured softly as he sniffled, "yer all I've ever dreamed of, please don't go...come with me, I'll look after yer I promise, good and proper...please darlin'..."

He rested his head in the crook of her neck and gently planted kisses there as if to persuade her to come back to Beechers Hope, he knew it was sudden and pathetic but christ did he want to keep her. She was like a stray kitten, and she was so similar to him. She had lost everything and everyone and needed loving, and so did he. He sure as shit wanted to love her, protect her, be a good man and hold her close and promise her the damn world.

"Jack...I'm awkward and homely...you'd tire of me so quickly...I've never had anything like this before...not sure what to do...I could barely kiss you without crying," She murmured softly as she sniffled and held back hiccups and tears.

"Shhh...yer shouldn't be selling yerself...yer so pretty and sweet...please even if it's until yer back on her feet, let me look after you..." He whispered as he pressed a kiss to her cheek, a desperate kiss that was clumsy and sloppy but loving and sweet. It felt as if looking after her and loving on her would heal him.

"Jack..." She mumbled softly as she turned to kiss him properly, messy yet tender. Their lips moved together and their tongues gently joined the dance, a tender moment between two hurting people.

Jack needed to care for someone, to pass on his parent's legacy and to feel loved. She needed to be cared for, to feel appreciated and to have a kind heart in her life.

His lips remained on hers as he pulled her to lay under him on the bed, no ill intentions on his part but just a need to be closer. She lay down without any complaints and pulled him closer as she kept her mouth locked onto his and her tongue against his, her fingers were slowly caressing his scruffy hair.

He slowly kissed down her jaw to her neck and whispered, "Just say yes...please, sugar...we'll get to know each other...I'll make sure yer safe...I'll feel so guilty if I leave yer here..."

She sobbed softly and whispered, "I want to...I want you to look after me, Jack..." He stopped kissing her neck and held her close and practically lay on top of her as she cried and he held her.

"Shhh...it's okay, just us yeah?" He whispered into her ear as he held her, "I’ll look after yer, get some sleep and we’ll pack yer up in the morning..”

He gently peppered her face in kisses and whispers, "Yer like an angel..." as he cuddles her gently, the poor boy was finally realising love and how overwhelming it was to feel so many emotions.

"You're like my knight in shining amour..." She murmured softly as she sniffled and clung to him tightly. He held her a little tighter and pressed his nose to her cheek.

AN RDR2 ONESHOT 

-   FANCY DATE (pt. 1/?) (Javier x Fem Reader)

WC: 2,800

SUMMARY: 

You and Javier have a fancy date planned, but unlike him, you haven’t always been the best dresser. He takes you to the Saint Denis tailor to “help” you out. (BASICALLY… SHOPPING WITH YOUR BF JAVIER)

CONTENT:

- fLUFF!!! - but ummm… a bit more hOT AND STEAMY THAN MY OTHER STORIES WILL BE 

NOTE:  some parts of this is lowkey inspired by the AO3 story HorseFeathers… (sorry, but I loved that shit, js)

　··　　　°　　　　　　.　•　　　　.　　　.　　　　　 　　　　.　°　　✸*　.　　　✶　　　　　　　　　°　°° 　　　        “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing, huh?” You rested a hand at your hip, while your other hand held a silver pail. You were in the middle of chores when Javier pulled you aside to discuss his weekend plans with you. You were touched that he thought of it all, but you were suspicious about needing ‘fancier attire’.

        "Oh, nothing, nothing—but um…“ He tilted his head, talking carefully as if he didn’t want to offend. You had a grey shirt on with the sleeves rolled at your forearms. It had a simple design embroidered into it — but that was all it was — simple. You wore a long, silk skirt along with it. It had been a pretty thing… once. It was red, hemmed up to your knees to show a bit of your black leather boots beneath; but now it was faded by the sun, worn by the work, and in some areas there were small tears and rips. 

        "I can get these stitched in no time,” You say, following his eyes and feeling a little embarrassed. “There’s really no need to—,”

        Before you could object, he was scooping at your waist and pulling you close to him. You dropped your pail and it rolled away on the floor. You were about to complain, when Javier suddenly held your face so you couldn’t look away. His touch was gentle though, just like his tone. “Although you’d look beautiful wearing old rags, mi amor, what man would I be, to not spoil you? Hmm? And you can’t say no to me this time,”

        Lost in his brown eyes, you knew you really couldn’t say no. Besides, you remembered all the different occasions he had offered to buy you things. To take you places. To dote upon you. You were just so difficult. 

        "Well, Javi…” You still tried to protest, “I do have other dresses, you know—?”

        He spoke over you, as if he didn’t hear. “Hmm, you would be so stunning with a new ensemble. So stunning with pearls at your neck. Matching earrings… a shawl over your shoulders. I could you get in a white dress too someday—,”

        "Alright, alright,“ You say, flushing a deep red. "Let’s just get it over with…”

        Javier smiled wide. "Vamanos, mi hermosa,”

*        *        *

        When you and Javier get to Saint Denis, your heart ached for him. You noticed all the staring, heard all the racial slurs being whispered as you and him passed. You glare back at them, grinding your teeth in your mouth. You want to do more, however. You want to turn back and throw up a-not-so subtle gesture but it’s almost like Javier could read your mind, sense your distress, because he grabbed your hand and squeezed it tight. You felt comforted, and paid a lot less attention to it everyone else. Though it might’ve worked for a little while… you had just about reached your limit when you two walked into the tailor.

        "Are you lost, sir?” A voice said, colored with disgust.

        You hardly looked at the guy who said it, before you spoke up, loud and curt. “No,” You answered, before Javier could. You pulled him close to you. “We're not,”

        The man was old with a bald spot at the top of his head. He looked shocked by your words. He studied the both of you, still doubtful. “Well… a lot of what we have in stock here is quite expensive, are you sure that—?”

        Having dealt with these kinds of things all his life, Javier might have known how to keep his cool. But you didn’t. You pulled a revolver from your satchel and held it in front of the man’s face.

        "Just close the shop and give us fifteen minutes,“

        When you did it, Javier sighed. He couldn’t help but grin a little though, seeing you so stoic and resolute. A part of you wished you were like him in more ways that one… sure, at the end of the day you may come out dressed significantly better but there was no changing your ill-temper and boldness. He knew it himself.

        "Knowing us, mi amor,” He chuckled lightly, “I’d say we need a little longer than that,” He didn’t try to stop you as he passed, instead he was already scanning the place.

        You agreed with a shrug and looked at the cashier. The man had his arms thrown up in the air and was staring at you with wide eyes. You smiled fleetingly. “Just keep quiet until we’re done, please?” You looked to his side and saw a door. It must have been a closet. 

        While gesturing with your gun, you told him to get in there. The man nodded more than once, gulping as he obeyed you, twisting open the door and vanishing inside.

        "Alright…“ You say, stuffing your gun away. “What’s this expensive stock?”

        Your eyes glossed over the mannequins. Ridiculous hats stood on display and you flicked your fingers at a long feather sewed onto one of them. You rarely ever went shopping much — and never in a fancy place like this. Seeing the options, though, a part of you felt like you weren’t missing out too much. 

         “Javier,” You groaned in annoyance. “I don’t know about this…” 

        "Ah, be quiet,” He said over his shoulder. “This’ll be fine,”

        You went on for a few minutes struggling to find something you liked. It didn’t take long for Javier, though. 

        He had something in his hand and he was waving you over to him. “C’mere and try this for me,”

        “Me?” 

        “No, the tailor… yes, you!”

        You walk over and look at what he was holding with a grimace. When you made no move to take it, he cocked his head.

        “Do you need me to put it on for you, or—?”

        Half-annoyed by his teasing, you snatched the dress and set it beside you as you began to undress.

        You had to crane your neck to the floor every time you undid the ties of your corset. But once it was off and your blouse dropped loosely at your shoulders, you felt yourself being pulled away. Without warning, your back was against the wall and Javier had his arms at your sides, keeping you there.

        “Or…” He said, smiling at the sight of you trapped by him. 

         “Do you need me to undress you…?” His voice trailed. And so did his hands. He went from kissing your open mouth, to grazing your bare shoulders.

       “Javier,” You said, stiffening behind his touch. Although you didn’t want him to stop, you couldn’t bring yourself to match his building aggression. “I pulled a gun on the tailor to be in here… I think we should be quick, don’t you?”

        He laughed against your neck. “Oh, I can be quick—,”

        “That’s not what I meant—,”

        “No?” Your blouse fell lower and he started kissing your collarbone. 

        ”Javier!” You hissed.

        ”Ay, I’m just toying with you,” He withdrew, turning on his heels. He was chuckling to himself while you rolled your eyes, flushing with heat. You held the dress close to your chest as you watched him look through the store, whistling.

        He threw two more dresses your way and you sighed, taking them into you arms as you went to head into the changing room. 

        "Why don’t you just change in here?” You heard him say. 

        "It would be too much excitement for you, it seems,“

         He made a tsk sound but let you go. 

        You went to the other room. You had no trouble… until you slipped inside the new dress and found that you couldn’t tie up the laces at your back on your own. With pursed lips you shuffled out to get his help. He smirked devilishly when you did. And boy, did he take his time with it. He was humming, his fingers brushing the bare skin of you back. It sent tingles down your spine, but you tried not to show it. You knew what he was doing. Knew he was stalling. After a few seconds you folded your arms across your chest impatiently. 

        "Having trouble?” You huff, your voice thick was sass. Just as you said it, he took the strings and gave them a tug - one so sudden and forceful it made you yelp.

         "Fun—actually,“ He corrected, tying a knot and speaking close to your ear.  "Now turn around,”

        You did as he said with a deep scowl. When you turned, Javier had a hand at his chin and his eyes moved over you lazily. 

        "Mi amor,” He drawled after some time of silence. “You’re so sexy when you’re angry—,”

        "Oh, save it. Is it good enough or what?“

        "Sure, it’s beautiful… but all I want to do is take the dress right off you again—,”

        Before he could touch you, you stormed back into the changing room to see for yourself. In there, you realized the dress looked a lot better than it did when handed to you. Javier had an eye for this kind of stuff, and you couldn’t deny it. But the longer you looked, you found that you didn’t feel comfortable in it. It seemed to much. Too cluttered. It just wasn’t you.

        You told him that — and he was more than happy to help you out of the dress and keep looking. Every now and then, though, you’d feel him from behind you, pulling you back against his own body. Sure, he was a lot more helpful you could’ve hoped — but he also had a habit of getting carried away, too. You had to cut him some slack though. It wasn’t every day you two could be alone. You yourself wanted something more than the simple pecks you would give each other at camp, but still you knew that someone had to have an ounce of restraint. You had to remember… your goal was to tease him just like he was teasing you… and this date tomorrow? You wanted it to be special. You couldn’t spoil all the fun now.

        The next time he made a move on you, he had taken you in by the waist and slumped into a chair, bringing you down with him. He had you in his lap, your legs hanging over the arm rest. He kissed you long enough to leave you breathless and when you felt his hands moving over you, you heart was racing wildly. Before he could get too far, however, you stopped them.

        “Javi,” You whispered into him, drawing back.

        “What is it? Am I hurting you?”

         Far from it. But you didn’t tell him that. Instead, you sighed, turning away from a kiss — knowing fully well how that drove him crazy — and tapped your fingers lightly against his chest.

         “Javi, if we were to… you know…”

         “Yes…?” He asked, the slight impatience in his voice making you crack a smile.

         “Well… I…”

         “Yes, Y/N…?“

         “Well, I wouldn’t want to in place where an older man is an earshot away,” You slipped off his lap and stood in front of him, shaking your head like you were talking to a child. "Can you control yourself, please?”

        Javier lolled back into the seat, looking upset, but huffing in agreement. “Fine,”

        Though he finally stopped trying to grab at you, it didn’t lessen that lusty look he had in his eyes whenever you put something new on and went to show him.

         You tried on a few more dresses, skirts and blouses, some you picked, some he picked — but you still felt yourself getting more and more annoyed.

        “You can’t just say you like them all,” You chided Javier, yanking at the skirt of your dress so it laid straight against your legs as you stood before him.

        He looked confused. “But I do,”

        “Oh, please, that last dress had pink ruffles—,” You grimaced incredulously, but he cut you off. 

         “On anyone else I’d say no. But you — you can pull it off,“ Javier gave a shake of his head. "Y’know… I don’t think you’re aware of your own beauty, mi amor. You’re always trying to hide it, but there’s just too much. And dressing modestly like you usually do… it isn’t gonna stop people from looking… it never stopped me,”

         You start to argue, but stammer and shut your mouth. You found it hard to believe him when he said things like that. You never thought of yourself as beautiful, let alone all that attractive. You knew, however, that if Javier caught you doubting his compliments or being critical of yourself and your looks, he’d go on an even longer rant of flattery and praise, with sadistic threats in between. Then he’d end it off with saying he ‘was only trying to make you love yourself just as much as he loved you’. Your heart fluttered and not wanting him to have to go off again — you sighed.

         “Alright, fine… but eventually you’ll have to make up your mind up and help me pick just one. I—I don’t want to go back to camp with 10 pounds of clothes.”

         “Fair enough,” He said. “But you be honest with yourself, alright? You’re saying no to these dresses because it’s not what you’re used to. But if you know you like it, then hermosa… it’s all yours,”

         A few more minutes passed until you had finally pulled into something that made you stop and stare at your reflection. It might’ve been the one… but a part of you was still unsure. 

         When you came out, Javier was sitting down at the table, rocking back in the chair. Once he turned to you, he stopped rocking and let the chair fall hard against the floor. 

         “That’s it. That’s the one,” He said, pointing at you. 

         “Oh, c’mon,“ You started to blush. "You’re just saying that because you want to get out of here…”

         He snorted. “You’re kidding, right? You’re over here strutting around half-naked and you think I want this to be over with?” He stood up and dragged you over to the mirror again. 

        "Look. You know it, too. I see it in your eyes. You like this one… admit it,” He was beside you, brushing his fingers through your hair as you looked at yourself again. You started to smile with him.

        “Aha! Eres una preciosa mujer, lo sabes también,”

        You tried to force the smile down as he planted kisses all over it. “But vanity is a sin, Mr. Escuella—!” (You knew bringing that up always drove him crazy too).

        “Oh, shut up. Killing’s a sin too, but it’s just part of our lives, ain’t it?”

         He gave you another kiss. Then you went out picking the smaller things, shoes and accessories, to complete your new ensemble. When you were done — you found that Javier was still browsing as well. 

        “Wait—why are you looking for more clothes?”

        He almost looked offended. “We have to match,” He said to you, before continued. Soon Javier had found a black suit, with a tie and vest that went beautifully with the colors of your own outfit

        And finally; the two of you were done. A part of you was against the idea of bothering to wake up the tailor at the front of the store, but the better of you had you doing it anyways. You knocked on the door with your revolver and let the man out. You had found him in the fetal position and you almost felt bad. 

        “Sorry,” You tell him, "but we’re ready to pay now,”

        The man looked baffled, walking back to the register as you smiled sweetly.

        Javier pulled a wad of cash out of his vest pocket and slapped it onto the counter. You weren’t sure of how much it was, but you did know it was enough to get the owner drooling and Javier grinning as smug as a peacock. 

        He hit the guy’s shoulder. Although it was nothing more than a teasing hit, the man looked like he had jumped out of his skin. Javier smirked even bigger. “Why don’t you keep the change?”

        You kept your gun on the man as he collected the money. “Oh, and… this never happened, understood? You never saw us,”

        The man only nodded.

        Then Javier hooked you by the arm and hauled you out of there. His smile grew bigger as you both hit the streets. 

        “Look at that… they’re already staring,” He whispered close to your ear.

        “I know. Thanks a lot — it’s all ‘cause of your skin color,” You said sarcastically.

        He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and snatched up your hand. Your fingers interwove with his and he planted a kiss on them.

        “Te amo, mi amor, even though you are difficult,” 

        “I know I am,” You smirked. “Por eso te amo, Javier…“

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  AN: if my Spanish is wRONG, I AM SO SORRY & please correct me.  but anyways, thanks for reading! Please let me know if I should write about the date ;)

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