I Need Him In Me

you think fat trans men are hot. reblog

I SAW KURTIS AND JACOB!!!!

just got home from one of his shows and like dude holy shit. It's so surreal seeing these two guys who have made me laugh and helped me when I was super depressed in person. Like I'm just actually so excited still (the show ended like two hours ago) my back hurts, my ass hurts from the seats, my hands hurt from clapping and my face hurts from smiling- and alos wiping my make-up off but whatever. Jacobs part was so fucking good HDNHDMDBSKSBISNWOWMBEKENS

and here's me and my dad, the photos shaky because my hands were shaking (again, I was and am very excited) and it was dark so it couldn't focus. Our expressions probably don't help LMAO

It was fucking awesome, but now I'm a little bummed that it's over.

Gaslight District fanfic writers on their way to create literal masterpieces for a show with a barely one month old pilot

Hello🤗❤️

I hope you are well🌹

Can you help me get my voice heard

and share my family's story?🙏🏻

Can you Reblog my pinned post from my blog or donate 5$?

By helping to reblog my story, you could

save a family from death and war.🌹

Thank you very much🌸

🕊️❤️🌹🙏🏻

❤❤❤ sorry this took me a bit to get to, life has been hectic. Wishing you and your family the best of luck, love and safety

AITA for texting my fiancé that "this isn't working"?

Steven Grant x reader.

Tags & warnings. None. Yes, this literally is just a silly little thing that I read on reddit and I thought it was so funny lol. Reader is gender neutral!

Word count. 823.

Moving in with Steven was one of the best decisions you could make in your life, right after saying 'yes' when he proposed.

The only inconvenience came at a precise time between morning and afternoon, sometimes even at night, all depending on the mood of his boss. Waiting for Steven to return from work was such a headache, boring hours and dead time as you tried to find your own job.

The upside was that you now had complete freedom to organize his apartment to your liking, and if anything needed a complete makeover, it was Steven Grant's dark and disorganized home.

You had just made a completely necessary expense, a gigantic mirror that was clearly bigger than your capabilities. Worse yet, considering that if there was something you despised with all your heart, it was the mere idea of reading an instruction manual.

When the mirror arrived, the Amazon delivery guy mocked you to your face for your difficulty in handling the box and getting it into the house.

You: Baby, the new mirror just came in!

You hit send after the message.

You: I’m going to try to put it together but I may need your help later.

And just as you said, you got to work with the phone by your side, waiting for a response from Steven.

You assumed Donna was in a terrible mood because at least two hours went by without a reply, although you were really too busy to worry about that.

For a moment, you insisted on the idea of finishing assembling the darn mirror before Steven arrived home, but that clearly didn't happen because for the two and a half hours of effort you put in, you didn't feel like you were really getting anywhere.

Plus, you had extra screws that shouldn't have been left over.

You: This isn’t working and at this point, I think I need to just give up.

You put the phone aside and lazily lay down on the carpet. Why was assembling furniture so hard? Although not as difficult as having to accept that you couldn't finish it on your own.

You stayed there not knowing how long, but you estimated it was a few hours because you heard the front door indicating that Steven was home. The smile lasted only a short while because as you straightened up to greet him, he walked past you without even looking at you, heading straight to the bedroom.

"Steven?" you questioned, slightly furrowing your brow. You stood up slowly, giving him time to exit the room.

When you finally confronted him, your heart almost jumped out of your chest. His eyes were red, completely filled with tears.

"What happened, baby?"

"Why?" he asked, his voice breaking. It shattered your heart into pieces.

"Why what, Steven?" He sniffled, and you searched his gaze when he started avoiding you.

"Why are you giving up on me?"

You nearly killed him right then and there.

"What are you talking about?"

He didn't take long to pull his phone out of his pocket and shake it a bit in front of your face; he was on the verge of sobbing.

"Y-Your messages, you were breaking up with me."

The moment Steven mentioned your text messages, you had to press your lips together to keep from laughing in his face.

Your expression almost made him cry harder. Were you making fun of him?

"Steven." Your voice came out in a playful tone as you almost burst into laughter. "I was talking about the mirror."

"Huh? What mirror?"

"The new mirror, it arrived." Your eyes were almost watering from holding back laughter. "I'm guessing that the previous messages didn't send; I was talking about not being able to assemble it on my own."

You stepped aside to let him see the mess you had made on the floor, with the mirror halfway assembled.

Steven exchanged glances between the things and you.

He looked at the things.

He looked at you.

He looked at the things.

He looked at you.

Realization hit in seconds, and you couldn't say anything more when you felt Steven's arms squeezing you against his chest. You couldn't stop laughing even though your laughter sounded odd, muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

"Bloody fucking hell, love!" Steven cursing was definitely a special event. It only made you laugh harder. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"

He lifted you off the ground, and tears were already streaming down your face. It took much longer than expected to calm down from the laughter.

Still breathless, you let him kiss your face, as well as embrace you with his strong arms that refused to let you go.

"Still, I need you to check the mirror." You took a deep breath, your cheeks already reddened, one of your hands held onto him, and the other wiped the corners of your eyes. "I think I damaged it."

Jack Marston x Reader

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 warmed his heart differently.

After his parents died, the cabin was just a house, an empty void. With you it felt warm, 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 during 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...'

thank u for reading `(*>﹏<*)′ i got a lot of Jack requests, so i hope this fic did them justice. Like this post for + honor (≧∀≦) Lmk what u think by leaving notes, I love reading them!

HNNNG GUESS WHOS BACK

(I wrote this way too fast because i needed to write this down before i writers block kicked back in so there are probably spelling mistakes, grammar issues (theres always grammar issues with my writing LMAO) goodluck!)

I'm imagining Reader, who is a traveler who goes overseas often. They go to Piltover and meet Vander and decide to join their cause, becoming a merchant to get extra money to bring in.

Reader is getting ready to set sail with their crew and Vander pulls them aside just before they leave and gives them a promise ring. Once they do set sail, Reader waves at Vander until hes out of sight.

While they were away, Vander, Silco, Connol and Felicia helped him plan an actual proposal. When Reader did finally return, they were expecting to be proposed to the second they got off of the ship but to their surprise, they were just welcomed back normally. After the next few weeks, Reader stays suspicious but in the end figures that he's going to wait until after they beat Piltover.

Once Reader is no longer suspicious, they set the plan in motion.

One day, Felicia invites Reader out and they walk around topside. Eventually, Reader is dragged into a shop and Felicia pretends to look around before "spotting" an outfit that Reader also likes. Felicia convinces them to buy it, and they do. They head back and Reader styles the outfit and while they were changing, Connol told her that everything was ready and they both sneak out.

While Reader and Felicia were out, Silco and Connol had been cooking. Reader faintly smells their favourite food as they walk out, all dressed up and see that the only thing waiting for them was a note saying that Felicia had to go.

Before Reader could change Silco shows up and asks them to help him gather some supplies or something. He insists that they don't need to change and they head out, grabbing bits and pieces from various shops before heading in a direction Reader doesn't recognise and before they can ask about it, Silco hands them a blind fold and asks them to put it on. Which they do, now incredibly suspicious (and slightly concerned).

Silco leads them along until they stop and he walks off, and Vander tells them to take off the blindfold, which they do. Immediately seeing that they're stabding ontop of an old building, a gorgeous view of Piltover and the sky, the sun setting, casting a beautiful glow over the city. Two chairs and a table, covered in their favourite food and drink and fairylights strung up all around. And Vander, dressed nicely and looking uncharacteristicly nervous.

They sit down, eat and talk and eventually the sun has set and they're sitting in comfortable silence when Vander breaks it and asks them to stand up. Weeks of practising what to say go straight out the window and he stutters his way through a small speach before he gives up and pops the question, kneeling and holding up a small box.

Reader stares down at him in shock, completely silent- everything he just said processing in their head and as Vander goes to stand up- akwardly apologising- he gets tackled down by Reader, who happily says yes.

...

NOW IMAGINE

Every year, at the same time, on the anniversary of his proposal. Reader puts on the same outfit, grabs their favourite alcohol sits in the same place they sat on that day. Mourning the life that could have been.

I hope you guys know, I looked into my drafts to posts this and i found this

I have no memory of writing this

Meet Me in the Pale Moonlight ✮⋆˙

kieran duffy x reader

rating: explicit (18+)

Spirits are high once Jack is returned from Bronte's capture, and the gang indulges in some much needed celebration.

But you're not looking to party. You just want to spend some time with the guy who's caught your eye, Kieran "not an O'driscoll" Duffy...

content warning: f reader, smut MDNI, friends to lovers, esteem issues, gentle sex, piv sex, cunnilingus, lots of feelings and also cum, filthy dirty, kieran deserved the world and also some pussy <\3

word count: 4.7k

The Van Der Londe gang had been engulfed in chaos ever since little Jack had been taken.

Abigail has been hysterical, John seems to have had his paternal instincts awoken, enraged that his child has been stolen from him. Dutch has been on a warpath, the others following him in his endeavours to return the little one.

All you can do is watch from the sidelines, a trusted member of the gang. A woman, but skilled with firearms and entrusted to keep the gang safe while the others search for the boy.

You spend your days protecting the others, and soothing your dear friend as she sobs for her son.

When Jack is finally brought home, the whole camp seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

You watched as Dutch rode in, followed by John and a thankfully right as rain Jack.

“I’m fine mama!” The little boy called as his father pulled him off the horse, babbling away about the food he ate.

He’s completely unaware and innocent to the reasons why he was gone, to the fear everyone felt.

The joy now that he’s home.

It brought a smile on everyone's faces when Abigail wrapped her boy in her arms, thanking the others profusely for bringing her son home.

Immediately spirits had been lifted, the gang had finally had a win after months of losing.

One could say it's certainly a call for celebration.

Underneath the stars, drinks are opened and music is played, every somber face now has a giddy, drunken smile on it.

The gang hasn't been this happy since Sean had been returned, god rest his soul.

You sit beside Arthur at the fire, pleasantly buzzing after a couple of beers, singing along with everyone else.

But your eyes keep straying across the clearing, where a certain man stands idly away from the group.

Kieran Duffy leans against a table, his own beer in between his fingers as he gently sways side to side to the tune of Javier’s guitar.

He hadn't joined the others around the campfire, which you understand. But it just makes you want to be over there with him instead.

Not that you didn't enjoy partaking in the parting, it's just that you would rather do… well, him.

You blush at the thought, clearing your throat as if everyone else could have possibly heard what's going on inside your head..

“I’m gonna get another drink.” You say to no-one in particular. Arthur smiles up at you, giving you a drunken salute.

As you walk away from the campfire, you’re almost drawn into a conversation with Hosea, a drinking game with Karen, and a dance with Uncle. All of which you politely refuse with promises of joining them later.

You’re a woman on a mission, making a beeline to the silly man of your dreams.

“Hey, Kieran.” You greet, causing the man to jump and turn to you, wide eyed.

He relaxes when he realises it's you, a blush on his cheeks as he gives you a smile, nervously gripping his beer in suddenly shaky hands.

“Evenin’, miss.”

“Why aren't you celebrating with everyone?” You ask, leaning on the table beside him, your elbow brushing with his.

Kieran stiffens but leans into you, his temple nearly touching yours with the close proximity. Far too close for two uninvolved people, but the drink has loosened both of your inhibitions.

“Ah, you know… thought I'd let you all have your celebration. No need for me to bother y’all.” He says softly, somberly even with a slight drunken lilt to his voice.

“You ain't bothering no-one.” You say, “Especially not me.”

Kieran ducks his head, but you can see a small smile on his face, and his cheeks not covered by his scruffy beard have gone red, visible even in the lowlight of the campfire.

You take a sip from your beer, admiring the scene of everyone else having fun.

It's nice to be a part of something so jovial, but you can't truly enjoy it if Kieran is left out.

“Come on.” You extend your hand, “It's too loud here, let's go for a walk.”

Kieran cheers up immediately, taking your hand. He follows you willingly, his fingers intertwined with yours as you pull him away from the noise, and around the Shady Belle house.

A little ways away from the camp, you find a nice enough clearing to spend time with Kieran.

The willow trees surround you both like a curtain of privacy,, but the moon shines through the partings of their branches. Long grass is underfoot, slightly damp with this morning's rain.

The noise of the party can still be heard, so you know you’re not too far.

But far enough that you can have some peace and quiet with the man who holds your heart, even though he doesn't know that yet.

The moon reflects off of the dew drops on the grass and you sway slightly, turning to Kieran to give him a smile, “Much better-”

You’re cut off by Kieran’s lips on yours.

A surprised noise escapes you, but you melt against him instantly. The kiss is hungry, desperate, lips moving and teeth clashing as Kieran puts all of his energy into it.

And you reciprocate it all, your fingers twisting into his blue shirt and pulling his body to you.

For a moment, it’s just the two of you, tipsy and happy while you lock lips beneath the moon.

All too quickly, however, it stops. Kieran takes a step back, looking at you with wide eyes like he himself is shocked by what he just did.

It’s adorable.

He starts stuttering out apologises, clearly horrified at his actions.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry.” Kieran whispers, looking away, “I just… really wanted to do that. B-but I shouldn't have just done that! Y-you can hit me now, if you want.”

You laugh, taking his face between your hands, soothing him and ceasing his anxious rambling.

“I ain't gonna hit you, silly. I might kiss you again, though.”

Kieran looks surprised, eyebrows furrowed as he stares at you with his jaw dropped, “...Huh?”

You chuckle, nudging your nose against his, “Would you like to kiss me again?”

“More than anything,” Kieran murmurs, “But… why do you want to kiss me?”

“Because I like you.”

“...Why?”

“Oh, Kieran.” You sigh, a smile remaining on your lips, though sadder now, “I wish you could see yourself how I see you.”

He just looks down at you, face held between your palms. His beard is coarse beneath your fingertips, his skin warm due to his flushed cheeks. He smells like cigarettes, beer and faintly of the distinctive smell of horse.

It's a scent that is so overtly Kieran, that you just want to bottle it up and keep it forever.

“How… Do you see me?” Kieran asks shyly as he looks away.

“Well for starters I think you are one of the kindest men I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.” You say earnestly.

Kieran chuckles, “I don't know about all that-”

“You’re polite with everyone here even when we don't deserve your niceties.” You continue, “The horses love you as much as you love them. You’re brave, though no-one else seems to see that. You’ve survived all the hardships life has thrown at you, and remained a good man through it all. You saved Arthur’s life, though you could have left him to the O’driscolls. You have the most beautiful eyes that I’ve ever seen-”

“Okay you can stop now.” Kieran laughs, the skin around his eyes crinkling, “You’re… I… see, I’m not as good with my words as you are.”

You giggle, bumping his forehead with his, “Do you like me as much as I like you?”

“More.” Kieran breathes, “Ever since I first saw you, up in Colter… god, it’s like you put a spell on me. “

This surprised you. You remember the day he was brought into camp. You had been talking to Hosea and Dutch when Arthur returned with an O’driscoll in tow.

You stood beside your fearless leader as he gave the prisoner a speech that you only half listened to.

Once Dutch had finished his spiel, the man's eyes turned to you. The fear you saw in them made you sad, and guilty. He looked less like a big, scary O’driscoll and more like a frightened street dog.

So you offered him a small smile, watching as his eyes softened slightly, despite being pulled away aggressively by Bill Williamson and Uncle.

Little did you know that that small act of kindness on your end had altered the trajectory of both of your lives.

“Every day has been worth living through just to see you whenever you pass.” Kieran continues, looking almost close to tears.

You hold his face harder, kissing his cheek to comfort him.

He sighs, his voice shaking, “When you first spoke to me… I could barely string a sentence together.”

The memory makes you smile, remembering the day he had been let free to roam after saving Arthur’s life.

You had been the one to pass him a bowl of stew, much to the chagrin of Pearson.

When you passed Kieran the bowl, his fingers brushed yours, and he had flushed bright red and stuttered out words that broadly resembled a “thank you.”

Ever since that day you had made an effort to give him the benefit of the doubt.

You spoke to him daily, sat with him when he was alone at the night watch campfire. Your feelings had grown for him rapidly, almost blindsiding you when you woke up one day realising-

‘Oh god, I’m in love with Kieran Duffy’

It had only taken you until now to find the courage to do something. The moods are high and the celebrations offer you privacy.

God only knows when you’re going to get this opportunity again.

“I love you, Kieran.”

Kieran freezes, his eyes meeting yours. He blinks at you, like he’s trying to translate those words in his head.

“You… love me?” He whispers.

“Yep.” You smile, “I love you, Kieran Duffy.”

Like the spark of a match, Kieran’s face lights up immediately. He steps closer to you and wraps his arms around your waist, his lips finding yours and kissing you fervently.

You wrap your arms around neck, fingers carding through the long hairs at the back of his neck.

“Wait.” He stops, stepping back and taking your hands in his own, his face earnest as he takes a deep breath, “I love you too, Y/N.”

“I gathered that.” You laugh.

Kieran beams further, stepping in your space again to resume kissing you.

The kiss grows hungry, neither of you willing to hide your mutual desire. Lips slide against the other, soft sighs and appreciative moans filling the air.

You bite his lower lip, earning a surprised yelp from him, before he opens his mouth, surrendering to your wandering tongue. As you explore, a wanton moan escapes Kieran, making you sigh with need.

Slipping your hands from his neck down to his hips, to push him gently. Kieran gets the message, sitting down on the grass, while you kneel with him.

Your knees bracket his thighs, not quite touching for fear of overwhelming your lover.

Kieran is needy though, and he grabs at your waist, pulling you flush against him so he can resume kissing you.

He’s eager, his tongue slipping into your own mouth now. It's messy and passionate, months of longing coming to an explosive end.

“God.. what are you doing to me?” Kieran sighs against your lips, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes, his hands kneading at your waist like a cat.

“I plan on doing a lot more to you, Mr Duffy.” You rasp, biting his lip and kissing along his jaw.

Kieran sighs contentedly, leaning back on his hands to extend his neck for you. You pepper kisses along the edge of his beard, following the lines of his throat.

A kiss to his pulse point makes Kieran shudder, a purr-like groan escaping him.

Your hands wander his torso as you kiss his neck and collar bones.

“Can I take your shirt off, Kieran?”

“Mhm, yes, please…” He whispers, practically shaking with anticipation.

His eagerness makes you even more desperate for him, your fingers working quickly to pull his blue shirt off his shoulders before working on his undershirt.

It's slipped off in record time, joining his shirt on the ground. You look over his torso admiringly.

He’s skinny, pale skin stretched across gentle curves of muscle from working tirelessly around camp. Dark hair dusts across his pectorals, a lone following his stomach and disappearing into his trousers.

Kieran holds his breath as you look him over, squirming slightly as he starts to feel self conscious. From his furrowed brow and slight frown, you can tell he’s worried you find him unattractive.

And that just won't do.

You lean forward to kiss his chest, right above his thudding heart. Kieran gasps at the feeling, settling back onto his hands again.

You trail kisses over his chest, going as far as to kiss one of his nipples. Kieran whimpers, before pressing his lips together to stop anymore of those embarrassing sounds.

“Nuh uh.” You chastise, “Don't hold back on me now, Duffy. I've waited too damn long to hear those noises for you to go quiet on me.”

Kieran blushes even brighter, but a tiny smile crosses his face.

You resume your worship of his chest, kissing down and following the line of hair down his sternum. Kieran writhes, fingers digging into the ground as he experiences sensations alien to him prior to this night.

You kiss the spot just above his belly button, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Kieran looks ready to spontaneously combust.

His hands find your shoulders, travelling down your arms and then grasping onto your waist, tugging at the material.

“Wanna see you.” Kieran whines, pulling at your dress with shaking hands, “Take this off, please.”

“Behave.” You chastise half-heartedly, hands already going to the ties at the back of your dress.

Once undone, you let the garment fall to your waist. Your chemise is old and practically see through, your breasts and hardened nipples on display for Kieran to admire.

He gasps when he sees them. You blush, fiddling with his belt absentmindedly. But your attention is distracted when Kieran raises his hands, hesitating and looking at you.

“Can I…?” He asks, always polite as he hovers his shaking hands over your boobs.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

The term of endearment seems to make your poor man flush even redder, his head ducking slightly before he regains some semblance of confidence. His hands reach out, gently grasping at your breasts.

You bite your lip, letting him fondle them with an awed expression. Kieran’s fingers smooth over the material of your chemise, rubbing over your heated skin and perked nipples.

“Never seen a pair of tits before?” You tease.

Kieran frowns, defensive, “I've had other things to do, you know…”

“I'm sorry baby.” You giggle, arching to press your breasts harder into his hands, “If it makes you feel better, you’ll have access to these ones as much as you like, for as long as you like.”

Kieran’s brain seems to go blank at this, his lips parted as he stares at your breasts like they’re simply the most amazing things he’s ever been in the presence of.

He looks up at you, wistful, “Really?”

“Yes, my darling.” You purr, “All of me is yours now.”

Kieran moans at that, leaning forward to press his face against your chest, taking shuddering breaths like he’s trying to control himself.

The man seems damn near close to finishing with every sentence you say.

It’s about time you get to the main event. There will be time for taking things slow later.

You twist your fingers in his hair, bringing his face up so you can kiss him again. While you do that, you undo his belt.

Kieran shudders, melting against you as you kiss him and begin to remove the last items of clothing he wears.

Once his belt is undone, you pull away from his lips. He tries to seek you out again, frowning before his attention is diverted to you tugging down his trousers.

You tug them down to his thighs, pulling off his shoes and socks as well, before removing the rest of his clothes.

A prominent bulge tents his undergarments, and you swiftly tug those down too, exposing his cock.

Your eyebrows raise, surprised to see he’s a little bigger than what you had originally seen while he was tied to the tree.

When Dutch pulled his trousers down and threatened to held him, he had been quite small.

But now he’s a decent size, not too big too hurt but definitely big enough to bring you pleasure. Flushed and weeping, and hard enough to damage steel.

“It does that.” Kieran says softly, causing you to look up at him, “Uh, you know, gets bigger when I’m enjoyin’ myself.”

“Well ain't I lucky?” You grin, and Kieran beams up at you.

You reach down, grabbing the bottom of your chemise to pull it over your head. Kieran's eyes fixate on your breasts. You shuffle slightly to tug your bloomers down as well, throwing it to the pile of yours and Kieran’s clothes.

Kieran rests his hands on your hips; fingers flexing as he lies down fully. He looks up at you with wide and eager eyes, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

You settle down against his thighs, his cock trapped between your bodies as you lean down to kiss him leisurely.

“You ready, darling?” You ask against his lips.

“Please, sweetheart. Need ya.” Kieran murmurs, pupils large and eyelids half closed as he looks over your face.

You reach down, finding his hard cock. Kieran inhales sharply at the feeling, a shuddered moan escaping you when he feels your heat brush against his weeping tip.

It takes one slow descent for your cunt to swallow him up, both of your hips meeting.

You release a satisfied groan at the fullness, closing your eyes for a moment to savour the feeling of Kieran filling you.

His cock throbs inside you, and you open your eyes to find Kieran watching you, his jaw slack and a dazed look in his blue eyes.

“So beautiful.” He whispers, “God- h-how are you so perfect…”

“My love…” You sigh, grinding on his lap to provide you both with the friction you desperately need

Kieran shudders and groans, hips bucking slightly.

“Ready?” You ask him again, needing to know he’s okay, seeing as he looks like he’s close to passing out from the pleasure.

“Mhm.” He whines out.

You rise, letting only the tip of him remain before sliding back down.

Before long, you’ve found a rhythm, riding Kieran slowly to get both of you used to the feeling. With every rise and fall, Kieran gasps and moans whorishly, his neck arched back and eyes fluttered closed.

The sight is vulgar, watching the man you’ve grown to love succumb to the pleasure you can provide.

You ride him faster, harder, seeking out the whines Kieran begins to make. His fingers grip on to your hips, short fingernails making crescent shaped marks in your plush flesh.

A sharp thrust downwards makes Kieran gasp out, chest rising and falling rapidly, squirming below you as you begin to ride him vigorously..

“Hngh, fuck, feels so go-od!” Kieran whines, hips bucking up, “Don’t stop- oh fuck-!”

You moan, bouncing harder on his cock as he meets your thrusts.

His cock begins pulsing inside you, a fluttering heartbeat, and Kieran begins shaking. His moans increase in volume, his eyes rolling back.

You feel your own orgasm growing, riding him rapidly as you seek your release.

But a choked out curse from Kieran makes you realise this isn't going to last long enough.

“Wa-it, shit- I-I’m gonna-” He warns.

You gasp when Kieran moans and thrusts up, hips flush against yours as his face contorts. Warmth floods your insides as he cums inside you.

Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.

A small smile curves on your face, finding his cute face endearing as he murmurs out incoherent praises as his cock throbs.

His orgasm seems to last ages, his cock pumping for a few moments until Kieran’s cum leaks out of you. You rub your hands over his chest, comforting as he shakes and moans softly.

It takes a while for him to come back to himself.

Suddenly, Kieran’s eyes open and his face falls, looking up at you with a suddenly mortified expression, blue eyes hazy.

“Oh- I-I’m so sorry, you didn’t…” He sighs, looking away and to the side, “I’m so sorry-”

“Don't be.” You comfort him, bringing your hands from his chest to his face, leaning forward to kiss his cheek gently, “I'm glad I could make you feel so good.”

“You did.” Kieran nods enthusiastically, nuzzling against you, “I've never felt so damn good…”

Kissing along his cheeks, you rise, feeling his softening cock slip out of you.

Kieran whimpers as the cold air hits him, and both of your eyes widen when you see the copious amounts of cum that leaks from you. It floods down your thighs and over his spent cock, making quite a mess on both of you.

“Damn. You were pent up.” You chuckle, running your hands over his chest.

Kieran stares at the mess, before looking up at you with a shy yet eager expression, “C-can I…?”

“What, baby?”

“Can I clean y-you up?”

You nod, though confused, “If you want to.”

Kieran begins moving, and you collapse back against the grass with your eyes closed. It's a shame you didn't finish, but after seeing Kieran in such a state of euphoria, you couldn't really complain.

You hear Kieran shuffling around, and you let your legs fall open so he can clean you up.

“You can use my chemise to clean- oh!”

You gasp and your eyes open when you feel Kieran lick along your thigh.

He looks up at you, eyes wide and puppy-like as he begins licking your cum stained thighs.

“I didn't- I didn't know this is what you meant.” You murmur, enamoured by the sight of him between your legs.

“I’m sorry, should I stop?” Kieran asks, worried, “I heard how it feels good when guys use their mouths on their ladies, I thought-”

“Please don't stop, baby.” You urge him, spreading your legs further to encourage him.

He smiles, lying on his belly as he wraps his arms around your thighs, returning to his task.

Running his tongue over your inner thighs, Kieran licks up his spend passionately. He cleans your skin and leaves kisses in his wake, before dragging his tongue up to your cunt.

He looks up at you for permission, and you nod quickly, taking shuddering breaths.

Kieran dives in, licking a stripe from your hole to your clit, sucking on it fervently.

You devolve into moans, back arching as he begins eating you out messily and uncoordinated, fueled by pure desire and the need to make you feel good.

And it sure does make you feel good.

Sparks of pleasure coarse through you as Kieran fucks his tongue into you, drinking up his own release and moaning when he tastes you as well.

Because of how close to were before, you feel your orgasm creeping up on you quickly.

Kieran whines against your cunt, mouthing away at it as his eyes watch your face. The way he moans against you, you would think he was the one being pleasured.

You can feel your body being pushed forwards and backwards against the grass, and you look down to see Kieran pathetically rutting against the ground, trying to get some stimulation as he presses his face against your intimacy.

It has you cumming, and Kieran drinks up your release with an appreciative whine, eating you up eagerly until you’re worried you’ll be licked dry.

It feels too good to care, though.

He keeps eating you, and you wonder if he would be happy just lying her on his belly mouthing at you until the end of time.

But you want him inside you again.

“C-come up here baby.” You say, pulling him away from between your legs.

Kieran scrambles up, pressing his whole body against you as he urgently kisses you again, sloppy and desperate. You can taste yourself on his lips, and his scruffy beard is wet with your release.

He thrusts against your hip, blind to where his target is as he focuses on kissing you. You laugh against his lips, drawing your knees up to try to help him find your entrance.

Kieran refuses to separate his skin from yours for even a second, nudging at your cheek as he rubs his cock against your thigh.

“Can you put me in, please?” He asks, sweet voice raspy and shaking.

You reach down, finding his member and directing it against your entrance, and Kieran bucks the tip in. Without wasting a beat, he pushes forward.

“Ohh… yes…” Kieran breathes out, hands fisting into the grass as he pulls out and pushes back in fast, forcing a moan out your throat.

He smiles at the noise, repeating the action over and over again to keep extracting noise from you,

“You sound so pretty.” Kieran murmurs, awed as he watches your face.

You moan out, locking your thighs against his waist to encourage him, and Kieran gets the hint. He increases his thrusts, fucking into you wildly as he watched your face.

His eyebrows are furrowed, mouth open as he takes sharp breaths, eyes trained on your own blissed out expression.

“Does- does that feel good?” He breathes out, keeping the fast pace of his hips.

“Yes!” You call out, feeling him hitting the spot inside you that makes you see stars, “Don’t stop Kieran! Feels so good!”

Reaching down, you play with your clit, tightening around the man inside you.

Kieran moans, throwing his head back as he fucks you faster and harder, “S-say my name again… please, say my name-”

“Kieran! Oh god, Kieran!” You cry out, shaking as your orgasm crashes over you.

You shudder and shake, wrapping your arms around Kieran’s neck as he moans and his thrusts turn sloppy.

“Come on baby, cum for me.” You breathe, “Cum inside me Kieran, fill me up, show me how much you love me.”

“I love you! I love you so mu-ch! Oh yes, oh-” Kieran cries out, collapsing against you as he cums inside you for the second time. His skin is sweaty as you wrap your arms around his back, soothing him as he weakly thrusts a few more times to prolong the feeling.

After a moment, he moves to lie down beside you,kissing your shoulder as he murmurs out praises, telling you how much he loves you.

You look up at the moon, carding your fingers through his hair.

“I love you too, Kieran Duffy.”

Kieran rests his head on your chest, holding you close as you stroke his hair. Your sweaty bodies are pressed against one another, uncaring of your nakedness as you bask in the afterglow.

A twig snaps in the distance, and an owl hoots.

You’re suddenly on edge, a flash of concern going through you as you turn to look at the trees.

A flash of movement makes you furrow your brows, urging kieran up. He gets up sleepily, a dopey smile on his face as you dress the both of you and take his hand.

The camp had gone quiet as you return, and you make your way to your tent without issue.

Kieran falls asleep immediately, but you stand at the doorway, trying to see what was lingering in the swamps.

A shadow moves.

The moonlight reflects green.

In the early hours of the morning, you lie beside Kieran. You kept awake as he slept soundly cuddled up to you, your pistol in your hand.

You could have sworn an o'driscoll was hiding in the woods, hunting your man. And that just won't do.

Ain’t nobody gonna take him from you now that you have him.

AN/ saving kieran by giving him some pussy (doing what rockstar couldnt) this was filthy! i meant to post this a couple of days ago, but i wasn't happy with it and changed it lol xx

@spimderman & @gotthecosmonaut for my kieran lovers <3

ARRRRGGGGGGGGHH!!!!

to any if my mutuals who see this, no you didn't. Totally not tweaking out about an asmr series i found like 3 hours ago, shut your eyelids.

WHY ARE THERE NO X READER FANFICS FOR ROBERT VOLKER?!?!?!?!??!?!?!

Shining Armor ASMR did such a good job at getting me to fall inlove with this character I've just now discovered. He's so silly and sweet and i love this little psychopath freak, bro got me hooked on the first few minutes of the video and it was wild.

when i first got recommended the video Scientist lover revives you video (the first part of the series) i was expecting something super corny and lame but i was literally shell shocked at how good it was- the screaming and getting electrocuted was NOT what i expected from an asmr and i am NOT complaining.

For anyone whos curious, this is whole series (FOR NOW!!!)

My cat looking absolutely zoinked, enjoy!