#doc cochran fanfiction
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Sometimes When I Get to Thinking pt 7
4643 words
This fic is mostly smut, so you’ve been warned. It also contains choking and restraints. I hope you enjoy! (+ sorry it took so long to write)
Also cw for a slightly implied miscarriage. Please take care of yourselves!
gif credit @godzillawillsaveus
You’re lying on the bed you and the doc share, your head comfortably resting on two downing pillows, and your wrists bound to the intricately carved bed head by your own stockings. The doc had tied you there an hour ago, right after you both finished dinner, in fact you were both in such a rush to get into bed that your dirty dishes and pot of food are left abandoned in your kitchen. Clean up can surely be left for later, you both think. There are much more pressing matters to be dealt with.
So, for the past hour the doc has been ‘playing’ with you. He enjoys being a tease, and likes to work on you slowly whenever he can stand it. You squirm, pulling your silky restraints tighter around your wrists as your back arches, as if against your own will. A debauched moan escapes your mouth, one of many, as the doc fucks you tantalisingly slowly with two fingers of his right hand, choking your neck with his left. Being choked is a feeling you very much enjoy, and he knows it. Amos intermittently releases your now tender neck from his grip, allowing you to catch your breath, and for your pooling blood to reach your brain once again. He chokes you until your ears ring, but never too hard, and never for too long. His medical training has made him the perfect breath play partner. Choking was not something he’d tried before he met you, but your enthusiasm for it makes him like it just as much as you do. His ability to give you orgasm after orgasm is more addictive to him than any drug in his possession.
So, he releases you neck once again, leaving you panting between moans. He holds eye contact with you constantly, surveying your reaction, ensuring you’re alright, that you can take what he’s giving you. He takes his role as love maker and pleasure giver just as seriously as he takes his role as doctor. His fingers curl up inside you, and you squeeze your eyes shut, your moans becoming louder.
“Please, fuck me Amos... fuck me with your cock!” you beg, still panting, and although your eyes are closed you can still feel the docs eyes on you. The way he watches you turns you on to no end.
“Uh uh,” he denies you. “Not yet honey, not just yet,” he says as he pulls his fingers out of you, and inspects your egg-whitey wetness on them before he enters you again with three.
“Oh god!” you cry out, your eyes flying open. His face is so close to yours, and he’s red and sweating. You let your eyes wander down his body, pulling at your restraints to try to get a clearer look at his unclothed cock. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, a loud sigh exiting your lips. He’s hard as a goddamn rock, and the precum escaping him tells you he’s more than ready for you. The restraint he must have to keep himself from fucking you senseless is absolutely unfathomable to you. You want his cum... no, you need it.
“Careful, you’ll break the skin,” he comments, gesturing to your lip. You release your lip from your tooth’s grip just as he takes your neck back into his grip once again, squeezing good and hard. Your legs rise and wrap around his hips as he rocks his fingers in and out of you, entering you as deep as he can.
“God. I can feel your cervix,” he comments breathlessly. He’s concentrating hard, eyebrows furrowed, and although to some his words may sound oddly medical, you know how much it turns him on to enter you as deep as he can possibly go. He’s been edging his fingers higher and higher since he first entered you an hour ago.
The pleasure is becoming too much for you. You’ve thought that same thought so many times during this lovemaking session, thought that ecstasy would finally take over your body, leaving you trembling and sopping wet, and your husband wholly unsatisfied. Sure, you can take multiple climaxes in a row like a champ, but you know how much Amos loves the feeling of your pulsing cunt squeezing around his cock after being teased by him for so long. You need him to cum inside of you, and you know that stimulation or no stimulation, if you cum whilst his cock is outside of you he’ll cum anyway.
“Please Amos! God, doctor please! I need your cock! I need it! I need i-“ and before you can say another word his hand is removed from your neck, his juice drenched fingers are in his mouth, and he’s readying his cock to enter you. Teasing your clit first, he lets out a soft low grunt as precum spills onto your vulva. Not much, just a few drops, but it’s enough to wet your appetite.
“Are you... you ready for me?” he asks, slightly apprehensively. Despite his facade of confidence, and despite your unyielding begging, he’s still slightly unsure of himself. He’s often like this, both in and out of the bedroom. You think it might be a symptom of his time serving as a doctor in the war. He has told you of his time there, vaguely, and often in abstractions, but you understand. More than once during the war he had to make decisions regarding his patients health that ended up killing them, not saving them. Of course you could see that he had never been at fault; he had done the best he could, he had followed his Hippocratic oath to the best of his ability, and between the shooting and the noise and the blood... well no man could have done any better than your husband, not matter his training, but he still blamed himself, and as a result second guessed himself still. He’s a stickler for consent.
You nod in response to his question, giving him your last gesture of consent before he enters you, slow but firm, and intentional. He rests his forehead against yours, both of your eyes closing as you savour the feeling you’ve both been craving all day... and suddenly you hear a voice cry out, a mans, Johnny’s in fact.
“Don’t answer,” you find yourself whispering to the doc. It was certainly not an ethical request, but you truly feel that you’re more desperate for a fucking climax than any man could possibly be for medical attention. Johnny calls out for the doc once more.
“Goddammit!” the doc exclaims, opening his eyes again. “What?” he yells out to Johnny, awaiting his answer. The doc pulls out of you slowly, beginning to untie your wrists when he hears your disappointed sigh.
“Someone’s been shot at the Gem, one of the whores!” Johnny replies.
“I won’t be long,” your husband whispers to you, running his ringers lovingly through your hair before he gets up from the bed and begins to dress. You rub your sore wrists as you sit up (it’s a feeling you somewhat enjoy), and the doc gets up. He begins to dress frantically, huffing in anger the way he usually does. You find it awful endearing.
“I’ll get dressed and meet you at the Gem in case you need a hand,” you tell him, fastening his shirt buttons. He tries his hardest to position his cock in a way that will hide his erection in his pants, and is mildly successful, however to you it’s still slightly obvious. As he takes his hat in hand you kiss him on the cheek. “Be safe,” you say. You know your husband always does his best to be safe, I mean he knows how to mind his own goddamn fucking business, but your request to him serves as a little reminder of what’s waiting for him at home as he goes about his stressful and often dangerous business. He nods in reply, and thinks that tonight he will be extra careful... he knows what’s waiting for him.
“I’ll make this up to you,” he promises, furrowing his brows as he grabs his medical bag and heads out the door, leaving you alone in your house once again. This, you think, is an exemplary example of what it’s like to be a doctors wife, but somehow Amos always makes every moment you spend alone seem worth it.
You can hear Johnny and the doc talking softly as they walk down the thoroughfare towards the Gem, and you begin to dress. You don your corset, then your dress, no bloomers or stockings. You want to give Amos easy access. You put on your boots, purposefully leaving the left untied, and fix your hair before grabbing your cane and a shawl. You head out of your house only to see Charlie waiting for you, leaned up against a tree across from your home.
“Did Amos put you up to this?” you ask him as you walk towards him. He takes your shawl from your hands, wrapping it around your shoulders snugly.
“He ran into me, asked me to escort you over to the Gem,” Charlie replies. As always, he’s a complete gentleman, and takes your free arm in his as you begin to walk. Not having the most affectionate father figure growing up (to put it lightly), you imagine having a loving father might be something like your friendship with Charlie. He’s loyal to a fault, caring, protective. You love the man, and you hope he knows it.
“Why don’t you come over for breakfast tomorrow Charlie? Or dinner? Or both!” you ask him with a smile. “You know our door is always open.”
“I might just do that (Y/N),” he tells you, smiling back. You reach the door to the Gem, and now in better lighting than in the dimly lit thoroughfare, Charlie’s eyes zero in on your neck. “I hesitate to ask... did someone hurt you? Did Doc Coc-“ Charlie begins to speak, but you stop him, talking over him.
“I’m going to confide something in you Charlie, as a friend, in the hope of putting your mind at ease,” you pause for a moment taking a deep breath, your eyes falling to your feet. “I enjoy when the doc chokes me. I-I know it may sound strange to you but in the throws of passionate lovemaking my body finds it very agreeable, and god only knows why I enjoy it, with all the men who have choked me out in my lifetime, without my consent. Now, you know the doc could never hurt me, he could never hurt anyone for gods sake,” you look up to your friend, your cheeks reddening when you see him looking to you with shock every so subtly written on his face. This is a conversation neither of you are particularly comfortable having with one another. “So please don’t worry yourself over me Charlie. Please don’t. Now, I’d better find the doc. He may need my help,” your take his hands in yours, letting your cane hang off your left wrist. Lucky for you the lace on the end of the sleeves of your dress cover the marks on your wrists, for you’d hesitate even more to explain your proclivity for being bound, or how much you enjoy having all control and autonomy stripped from you. “Thank you for being my escort, and I hope I’ll see you tomorrow, even after my little confession,” you say with a shy smile and a nervous laugh. Charlie nods his head, an intense look of understanding on his face. He knows better than to pry any further, and he gives your hands a firm and affectionate squeeze before letting them go.
“Goodnight (Y/N),” he says, gentlemanly as always, and tips his hat before leaving you in the doorway of the Gem, a building you’d spent more time in than you ever imagined you would.
Walking in now you make a bee line to the whores recreation room, past the bar. You pause once you get to the hallway, spotting your husband attending to one of the whores in the closest room to your right. She’s alive, thank god, and getting her wound closed by the doc. You love watching him work, and in a strange way his care and concentration turns you on, wetting your cunt all over again. As much as you want his concentration to continue, you can’t shake the thought of doing something slightly provocative, of catching his attention despite the chaos of the saloon. There’s a wooden bench where you’re standing, just as you had planned. It’s now time to enact your rather devious idea. You lift your left leg, letting your foot rest on it languidly, and lean your cane up against the wall. Reaching down you begin to move your flowing skirt from between your legs, lifting it up to give you better access to your boots, and revealing your unclothed cunt. Lucky for you there are no Johns in the hallway, otherwise god only knows how many men would have gotten a glimpse of your snatch, for free no less! You clear your throat, finally drawing the docs attention to you. He looks up over his glasses, then moves them up with the back of his left hand, needle in his right. He lets out a flustered cough, face turning red. This reaction may have been a remnant of his sickness from consumption, which thank the lord he was able to overcome, but you’re almost sure it isn’t. Your husband can’t take his eyes off of you, and he squirms in place a little, trying to make his painful and straining erection more comfortable no doubt. Lucky for the two of you that the poor whore, Sara you’re almost sure her name is, is in too much pain to notice the doc has even stopped attending to her, let alone notice the bulge in his pants. You finally tie the laces of your boot and pull your skirt back down again, just in time for Al to come between the two of you. Amos clears his throat, turning his attention back to the injured whore. He takes a moment to compose himself before tying off his suturing thread.
“You come here to help the doc or are you just looking for new employment?” Al asks, taking no time to start shit stirring you. You take your leg down from the bench, getting your balance again with a little help from your cane.
“The doc seems to be handling the situation well on his own, so I guess you’d better find me a few eager men to fuck,” you reply playfully. The doc, in his transparentness, can’t help but look to you when he hears you say the word ‘fuck’.
“I can think of someone,” Al comments, looking in on the doc. You hit Al’s arm, only half playfully.
“Watch it mister,” you warn. “So what happened to the guy who shot her?”
“You don’t want to know,” he tells you, looking over to the bloodstain on his hardwood floor. Your breath hitches slightly. Despite knowing the reality of Al, and this town, and all the goddamn wrongdoing people in it, murder sometimes still shocks you. You keep your eyes on the blood, almost captivated by its morbidity as you begin to speak again.
“Make sure you let Amos look at the man before you feed him to the pigs,” you say absentmindedly. You’re brought out of your stupor by Amos entering the hallway, medical bag in hand. “How is she?” you ask him, almost in a whisper. She’s lying down now, passed out.
“Just a flesh wound, she’ll survive,” he replies, his eyes never leaving yours. They beam with love and adoration for you.
“Good,” you say, breath hitching. In moments like this you truly believe that his gaze, and his gaze alone, could make you climax. The pulling in your stomach is becoming unbearable now. You’re barely able to stop yourself from touching yourself, right there for all the towns men to see.
Al begins to speak again, a slightly annoyed and teasing shit eating grin on his face at the sight of your obvious romanticism.
“Would you two like to accompany me to my office?” his voice is sarcastically inviting.
“We can’t tonight Al. Another time-“ your husband begins to make excuses, which you thank god for, but Al is adamant.
“Tonight. Now,” he states firmly. “I need to talk to the fucking both of you.”
So the two of you concede with a disappointed sigh, and Al makes his way up the stairs in front of you, the doc walking next to you, a supportive hand on your lower back. As you ascend the doc lets his hand stray lower and lower, earning an amused warning look from you. Once in Al’s office the three of you sit, but you can hardly sit still, and the doc is fidgeting a little too.
“Drink?” Al asks. “If anyone needs it it’s the two of you.”
“Will you just get on with the goddamn business Al?” Amos demands, rocking in his seat, hands rubbing his knees. You place a hand on his thigh in an effort to placate him, but it only makes his cock twitch.
“Jesus Christ! I’ve never seen you two so fucking antsy,” Al comments as he pours the drinks. As you both down your shots Johnny bursts into the room.
“Tolliver’s just walked through the door Al. Looks mad as all hell,” he relays, urgency evident.
“Alright then. Fucking stay here and wait for me, and don’t think of thieving. I know what’s in this room.”
You roll your eyes at Al’s tired fucking joke, and he walks out, closing the door behind him. Turning to your husband now, you see such urgency in his eyes. He’s bouncing his leg up and down, and eyeing you like an animal. You know what’s about to come, and you couldn’t be happier about it. You stand, and suddenly the doc is pushed up behind you. He bends you over Al’s desk, and begins to fiddle with his belt eagerly as you rush to pull up your skirt, letting the plumes of fabric gather around your waist.
“I’m ‘onna fuck you (Y/N), okay?” he asks, now with his bare cock readying itself at your entrance. You’re absolutely sopping, dripping, and he half thinks he may not be able to wait for your reply.
Even through your daze of arousal it still amazes you how commanding and unsure he can sound in one breath. A walking paradox, your husband could sometimes be, and any man would find it evident how much you need to be fucked... nevertheless you reply.
“Amos, please. I need you! I need you! I need,” and he enters you, eliciting a relieved and pronounced moan from your lips. He grunts, squeezing his eyes shut as he begins to thrust. Neither of you are going to last long, but with the two of you fucking in Al’s office and all that’s probably for the best. The doc moves your hair to one side and leans over you, laying lustful kisses on the back on your neck, and you push your ass further back into him, trying to get him to penetrate you deeper. The doc takes the hint, and bottoms out inside of you. He hits your cervix and exhales deeply, pausing there for a moment, savouring the sensation. He loves to fill you.
“God Amos! Don’t stop don’t fucking stop!” you yell, sounding almost angry in your desperation. Your husband hushes you and starts up again, giving your bare ass an affectionate tap. He holds onto your hips firmly as he fucks himself into you, good and fast. You know that people in the saloon must be able to hear your screams and moans, and you’re just hoping that with all the other sounds of debauchery coming from all the other rooms no one will be able to say for certain it was you and the doc making those noises. Amos begins to grunt breathlessly, his eyes squeezing shut.
“Honey... honey, god! Fuck!” he exclaims, and you can feel from his rhythm that he’s just about ready to burst. “I’m ‘onna cum in you, I’m ‘onna cum so deep!”
“Oh god Amos!” you yell his name before you can even stop yourself. Your climax is approaching quickly now, and his thrust are becoming erratic. He’s losing control of himself, fucking you as hard as his body physically can after a long day. The way he fucks you is goddamn euphoric. So deep, so skilled, with such care for you. His stomach is pushed up against your back now as he tries desperately to stay upright whilst his climax plummets towards him.
“Gonna cum... gonna cum in you, gonna cum,” he whispers to you in that rough gravely voice of his that you find so arousing. He puts his arm underneath your right shoulder and grips onto it, his left hand grasping onto your waist, and within seconds he explodes into you, plumes of steaming potent cum entering your pulsing cunt. This sensation, coupled with your husbands irresistible moans, and his desperate moans of your name, sends you climaxing. You scream out, trying to grip onto anything you can, your hand landing on the docs hand on your shoulder. Your body shudders, every part of you shaking, and your walls clenching around your husbands cock, milking all of his cum from him. Your ears begin to ring and your sight darkens. For a moment you truly believe that coming this hard is going to make you pass out. He fills you, god he fills you so fucking good. The doc begins to kiss the back of your neck again, leaving little red marks where he bites and sucks on it. Between kisses he begins to speak again. “You like feeling my cum in you, don’t you?”
“I love it,” you reply breathlessly whilst he’s still speaking. “I goddamn love it, I love it. I love you.”
Your body begins to relax now, and your legs turn to jelly. The doc slowly pulls out of you, standing up straight as he does, and you almost fall to the floor, but he catches you, lowering you down carefully onto your chair. When you turn to him, and sitting in his chair now, you notice that his glasses have fogged up. You’re both sweaty and red in the face, panting feverishly. The doc takes his glasses off, then points to your chest with an amused smile on his face. You look down, noticing that both your tits are now situated outside of your dress. You laugh lightly, looking to your husband in sweet euphoric adoration as you begin to tuck them back into the bust of your dress.
Suddenly Al walks back in, swinging the door to his office open. You jump, and fix yourself quickly, but you realise hiding your sinful deed is futile once you begin to look around the room. Al’s desk has been pushed back, and is crooked, and his whiskey bottle has toppled over and is rolling around on his desk (no whiskey spilt though, thank god). You look from the desk to Al, then to your husband.
“Jesus Christ!” Al says in a sing song voice. He’s beyond amused.
“Shut the fuck up Al,” you say deadpan, your voice slightly horse. You clear your throat, and the doc tries to smooth your ‘just been fucked’ hair a little. Al begins to fix his desk up, moving it to its previous position. This is a grace he has decided to afford you (most others he would make fix the room up themselves), because despite your teasing and shit talking you are good friends, and he is friends with your husband also. He pours all three of you another shot, which you all drink, and within moments it’s back to business.
“You need to stop visiting my whores,” he tells you, and your mouth opens, shocked.
“Sorry?” you ask obstinately.
“When the doc comes for his weekly visit stop fucking accompanying him. You’re filling their minds with stories of ancient societies run by fucking women and ideas to leave my fucking employ,” he explains further.
“I’m trying to enrich their lives Al. All they do is fuck and get high on dope! They know nothing of the outside world! I can’t see why it’s such a bad thing to educate them a little on arts and culture.”
“That’s my girl,” the doc chimes in, winking at you.
“Oh so you agree with her doc? I’d remind you that without my whores you’d be out of a job.”
“And have any of them left Al?” Amos points out. Besides Trixie none of them have, and her leaving was a turn of events you had no part in.
“With the girls living conditions to boot I would have thought my accompanying the doc would be a welcome change. Surely high spirited women fuck better Al... that has certainly been my experience. Until the end of goddamn time there will always be women willing to fuck for money. It’s called the oldest profession for a goddamn reason. They like me Al, and they like the stories I tell them! I’m not gonna stop accompanying my husband to his weekly visits, and that’s fucking that!” you end the argument.
“Staunch fucking cunt,” Al says under his breath, and the doc glares at him.
“You know I’m fucking right Al. You know I am,” you begin to tease him again, the mood lightening. Al thinks for a moment, before reluctantly conceding your point.
“Well no fucking tales of women leaving their pimps or the like, or I will murder you where you sleep,” he threatens, but you know his threats are hollow. “Now get the fuck out of here.”
“You’re a sore looser Al,” you say and stand with a grunt. You look down, and see a small puddle of fluids forming between your legs. “I think I just leaked cum on your floor Al,” you tell him, and your husband stands also, passing you your cane.
“You’re not the first,” Al replies, leading the both of you to the door.
“What did Tolliver want to see you about anyway?” the doc asks Al, and you both pass him by.
“That, doc, is not a story that should grace a woman’s ears.”
Walking out of the saloon you smile to the whores and Jewell, then you and your husband enter into the cool night air, finally relieved of your fiery arousal, and wonderfully satisfied. Your arms are linked, and as you look both ways down the thoroughfare you spot Charlie, leaning up against a building with a whiskey bottle in hand. He tips his hat to the two of you, and somehow you just know he had waited for you, to make sure you made it out of the saloon okay. You smile to him, and think of what a loyal friend he is. Walking off leisurely towards your house, you begin to speak again.
“Well that was my first time fucking in a brothel Amos. Was it yours?” you ask, amused, and in reply all you receive is a coy smile from your husband. His silence speaks volumes. “A story for another time I gather...” you laugh, and pause for a moment, your satisfied smile growing even larger on your face. Your voice turns to a whisper. “And don’t ask me how I know this doc, but I think you may have just impregnated me again.”
The docs smile grows also, and you finally reach your home.
#deadwood#deadwood fic#deadwood fanfic#deadwood fanfiction#doctor cochran#doc cochran#doctor amos cochran#doc cochran fanfic#doc cochran fic#doc cochran x reader#doc cochran fanfiction#doctor cochran fic#doctor cochran fanfic#doctor cochran x reader#doctor cochran fanfiction#Brad Dourif#brad dourif fanfic#brad dourif fic#brad dourif fanfiction#brad dourif x reader
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brad dourif characters x reader headcanons: periods (smut)
got my period so dragged this out of my drafts because we all know that none of brad's characters would be turned off by a little menstruation. this part is specifically about period sex, part two will be fluff. WARNING for smut, periods and fem!gendered language the parts where i definitely went too far. more notes in tags.
charles lee ray
lives for it
he brings the idea up to you when you start a period one time
has the pretense that he wants to help your cramps but don't be fooled it's just another excuse to get his dick wet
blood really makes this man go feral and your period is no different
seriously
your sheets will be ruined
nothing makes him last like when you're on your period
will do you in every position
(every position)
has absolutely no problem going down on you, eats pussy like a starving man
blood on his hands, his face, your face, your tits, smeared between your thighs, coating his dick
jack dante
also goes a little crazy when you're on your period
doesn't know it helps with cramps but his enthusiasm makes up for it
if you're wearing a tampon as you're about to get busy, he will take it out for you (not to kink shame him but he is too into it)
draws the line at going down on you though
who'd have thought that the man who is hard pressed to take a shower once in a while would be squeamish about eating you out on your period?
bends you over his desk when you give him the go ahead
likes to watch as his dick gets covered in blood
and watches it dribble down your thighs
is more gentle afterwards than usual
i.e. will stay and "cuddle" for a while (like 5 minutes) and doesn't just leave you to do whatever he does
sheriff brackett
his "only" goal is to relieve your cramps
technically he brings it up because you mention you're on and therefore can't do it because guys think it's gross
"you know, sex can help with this sort of thing, and i'd be more than happy to help you out sweetie if you wanted me to"
slow
like really slow
wants you to be relaxed and also doesn't want to hurt you
gets overly protective
will put a towel down because he is sensible
tries not to get any blood on you
because he's a gentleman he wipes his fingers off on the towel before touching your face
missionary because he is soft and wants you to take care of you, leave it all to him
grima wormtongue
thinks period sex means you can't get pregnant (false)
science isn't too set in stone yet in middle earth i guess
also think it helps with cramps (true) so he can pretend he is being helpful but really he is just horny
good luck trying to wash his sheets afterwards because it will be you that has to sneakily wash them in private
missionary because he wants to see your legs spread
(definitely some primal fertility kink thing he has going on with you)
doc cochran
at last, a true man of science
you're the one who brings it up even though he already knows about the benefits re: cramps
but you have to bring up everything re: sex or else he's too polite to do it
when you do bring it up though he is straight on board with the whole thing
will finger you periodically throughout the day to help relieve cramps
which is hotter than it sounds
you lowkey love that he gets all "official doctors advice" on you about it
has you on his lap riding him so he can hold you close
and doesn't ruin the bed
he totally coddles you
"do you feel better now?" "sure i do, doc"
definitely not just your cramps that are better either
tommy ludlow
you're the one who brings it up to him saying that it helps with cramps
very happy you brought it up because he didn't want to be insensitive and ask to fuck while you were on
but you are more than up for it
which is good for him because he is always down to fuck
happy that there's not a week in the month that you two can't fuck
will put a towel down because he's not actually into the blood aspect
actually was sort of surprised a how good it felt when you were so much warmer and wetter
leo nova
doesn't have the pretense of helping with cramps because he is mean and doesn't care
like charles he just wants to get his dick wet
doesn't put a towel down but is still the one to complain that the sheets are ruined
will cuddle for a bit afterwards because he's not a total monster
secretly loves how much more sensitive you are
(makes you squeal)
"you're like a bitch in heat like this"
can do less work for more reward
tucker cleveland
doesn't have a thing for blood specifically
but does have a thing for hot, dirty sex
does manual labour for a living so not afraid of being sweaty/bloody/sticky
if he can get you wet and help you out with cramps then he is a happy man
pussy eating pro, especially when on your period when he can get you to make so many more noises
(will also take your tampon out himself because he says it gets you riled up, does more for him though if we're all honest though)
#brad dourif#brad dourif x reader#reader insert fanfiction#period sex#tw smut#charles lee ray#jack dante#grima wormtongue#sheriff brackett#tommy ludlow#doc cochran#leo nova#tucker cleveland#charles lee ray x reader#grima wormtongue x reader#doc cochran x reader#tommy ludlow x reader#do we like this new format?#im trying it out but if yall hate it let me know lol#i know a lot of other fic writers use this format for multiple slasher but may as well use ot for multiple brad characters#got my period as well as inspiration apparently#to varying degrees all the characters are down to fuck#all are red wings certified wink wink
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The Pieces Of Me I'd Give For You - Deadwood/Prospect fic
You can also find this on AO3!
Summary: "The school teacher was clutching at his arm, the oily glint of blood painting his fingers and the fabric of the back of his shirt sleeve, but it was his eyes, the way they held a slowly calming edge of fear as they held Seth in place, that made Seth finally realise what he was saying.
“... That close?”
“If I hadn’t given you that timely push, I… I suspect it would be our bodies fertilising the local flora,” Ezra said."
Ezra May, school teacher in the small town of Deadwood, is injured on the way home from buying some new books for the school. With his partner, Seth Bullock, they try to keep it clean so they can get it seen to when they return, but not everything in life is so easy.
Notes: This idea straight up bit me in the ass thanks to some AMAZING art (I will post who drew it later when I get some details later???). It took a bit of time, but I'm super proud of it.
Also, big thanks to staranon for being my awesome beta for this fic! I was so nervous...
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It happened when they were about a week out from Deadwood. Ezra had mentioned a series of books that he wanted to share with the children at school, wanting to “provide a better understanding of the history of this great and verdant green earth upon which we all exist through the words of more than just the humdrum account left by only those men who never realised that there were more opinions worth listing than just their own”. From what Seth understood, it was a collection of books written by women or accounting the cases of people other than just the white men who had ‘discovered’ them. In either case, he had decided that, while these books did sound interesting enough to inspire some curiosity, it was certainly not enough to traverse the great untamed expanses that still surrounded their small patch of civilisation alone, especially not with family fervently awaiting his return.
It was with this in mind that Seth Bullock decided to offer his services to the sole school teacher of the small town of Deadwood, to escort him and ensure his safety during his passage. It had only been a formality in truth, as most of the town already knew of their… partnership at this point, but there was still a facsimile of what the outside world would see as acceptable to uphold, and so it wasn’t until they had left the borders that they could act upon their most secret of desires without fear of reproach or discovery while in public.
Their journey out had been a long but filled with greater physical affection than Seth had yet experienced with Ezra, and with the weight of society and the unwanted gazes of others lifted from their shoulders, he felt comfortable enough to even initiate some of them. It was after retrieving their quarry, their bounty carefully stowed away within crates and wrapped in brown paper, that they ran into trouble.
They had been vaguely aware of their tail for a few hours, having caught sight of them just before entering one of the more treacherous passes, but they had lost sight of them fairly soon after. Neither of them had been fool enough to believe they had lost them entirely though, and they had been vigilant ever since. It wasn’t until they started to make camp that night that they heard tell of them again.
Ezra, who had been his ever talkative self as they’d started to set up their bed rolls, was the first to indicate he had spotted their approach when he settled his hand on his gun, never once stopping in his excited chatter about how much he was looking forward to sharing the treasure trove of knowledge that they had gathered for the children. By the time the two men had stepped into the ring of firelight on the opposite side of the fire, they were prepared.
“A good evening to you gentlemen,” Ezra said in greeting as they stared at their guests down the barrel of both their own pistols and that of their uninvited guests. “To what do we owe your most unexpected and gracious presence at our fireside this splendid night?”
“Drop your guns,” the man on the right -- undoubtedly the leader -- said, an uninventive conversation starter in Seth’s opinion.
“That ain’t happenin’,” Seth said, keeping his gun trained on them. “Why don’t you and your two friends here take a nice walk down the pass and leave us to our night, and we won’t have to put holes in you.”
A second snorted. “We ain’t the ones outnumbered.”
Seth pulled back the hammer on his pistol, and he heard the action echo around him, including one from behind. A slight flick of the finger from Ezra and he knew that his partner was aware of their situation.
“Now, drop your guns,” the first man said, “and we won’t shoot ya full of holes.”
Seth disliked the smirk on his face on principal, and liked him even less for disturbing their much anticipated night of respite from the rest of the world.
Ezra carefully uncocked his gun, raising his other hand. “Now now, no need for us to be getting ahead of ourselves before we’ve established the particulars of what the situation is between us. Would you perhaps be able to explain the reason behind our predicament, and perhaps make this a more amenable situation and point your firearms elsewhere than at our persons?”
There was a long pause, one where only the crackling off the fire could be heard and Seth could all but smell the scent of an oncoming shootout, but then the supposed leader of this little group snorted and shook his head.
“You talk too much.”
What happened next was a bit of a blur, as all shootouts were. Seth wouldn’t have been able to say who exactly shot first, just that Ezra‘s shoulder was hitting his side in a moment, and they were both tumbling to the floor as bullets tore through the air. He shot a little wildly when heard Ezra grunt in pain, but he couldn’t let his focus waver or they’d both end up dead. He was caught by surprise when Ezra gripped him tighter and rolled them again,getting fresh mud all over them as more shots ended up in the ground where they’d been.
Not giving the world a chance to stop spinning, Seth fired almost blindly, but he was rewarded with a gasped grunt followed by the shadow of a man falling to the ground. Breathing hard, he listened carefully for any further movement, but all that was left was the fire and Ezra’s breathing in his ear.
“Did you get them?” Ezra asked, his voice rough in Seth’s ear before he had the chance to sit up.
“I believe I did,” Seth replied, heaving himself to his feet as he kept his eyes on the three now still bodies scattered about their camp before reaching down to pull Ezra up after him. He was sorely tempted to break from his watch when he heard Seth hiss, but he didn’t, pointing his revolver at the nearest attempted robber. “Are you shot?”
“Just a flesh wound,” Ezra replied as Seth gave the body a nudge with his foot, then turned it over to be sure. “Best to give it some inspectin’ though; I do believe that the bullet has lodged itself within the muscle of my arm quite firmly, possibly due to coming up against the wall of bone in its path.”
“That’s not just a ‘flesh wound’, May,” Seth said, the temptation to return to his side growing exponentially, but there were still two other bodies to inspect before he could allow himself the privilege.
“It is compared to what it could have been,” Ezra said, and this time Seth did look.
The school teacher was clutching at his arm, the oily glint of blood painting his fingers and the fabric of the back of his shirt sleeve, but it was his eyes, the way they held a slowly calming edge of fear as they held Seth in place, that made Seth finally realise what he was saying.
“... That close?”
“If I hadn’t given you that timely push, I… I suspect it would be our bodies fertilising the local flora,” Ezra said.
Seth was before him in a moment, holding his hand to his lover’s cheek and brushing his thumb under those pained eyes before he leaned close to kiss him. Their lips, desperate and yearning, locked together and seeking for purchase, could only connect for a fragment of the time either of them wished for, but Seth was still too tense to let himself linger.
“Thank you,” he said, their breath still lingering between them before he pulled away to examine the two other bodies. “I’ll take a look at that wound after I’ve made sure our unexpected guests have been properly taken care of.”
“Okay,” Ezra said, and Seth felt his hand linger on his back until he stepped out of reach. The warmth of his touch lingered as he completed his inspection, though it had unfortunately faded by the time he had to drag the bodies away to bury.
The dead would have to wait though, as the living had a greater priority.
Ezra had managed to remove his vest and shirt by the time Seth had returned to his side, revealing the wound. It was a wider cavity than Seth had expected, and he suspected that, had he been so inclined, he would be able to fit his thumb inside with no real difficulty, right down to the bone that had been exposed and the bullet casing that had lodged itself snuggly next to it.
“That looks to be more than just a flesh wound, May,” Seth said as he settled down beside him, quickly washing his hands with some of the water they’d collected at the stream earlier before using the rest to wash away the blood and the slight smatterings of the muck they’d rolled in out to see it better.
“It does?” Ezra said around a hiss. “Well, in my defence, I do not have the ability to see the extent of the damage from my position such as you do.”
Seth grunted in agreement, checking the wound over. “The good news is I can see the bullet,” he said. “The bad news is that the hole it made is big enough that I can see straight to the bone as well.”
Ezra nodded. “That does not sound, in any way, ideal.”
Seth looked up to meet his gaze. “We’re still a week out from Deadwood. I don’t have the skills to heal this.”
Ezra nodded slowly. “We’ll remove the bullet, and try to keep it clean as best we can.”
Seth nodded, though he couldn’t stop himself from thinking of everything that could go wrong; that the wound could fester, that the infection would spread, turn gangrenous, that he would lose Ezra and that there would be nothing he could do to stop it, just like there had been nothing he could do for so many others he’d lost. That it would just leave him a little more broken than before, and his heart would harden, and he would feel alone in this God awful world again.
“Hey.”
Ezra’s voice and careful touch drew him out of his spiraling thoughts, and his fingers were squeezed by a familiar, warm hand.
“I can’t lose you, Zee,” he said, his voice breaking in his throat.
“I ain’t leavin’ you,” Ezra said softly, pressing his brow to Seth’s. “We’ll make it back, and the Doc’ll have me fixed up in no time.”
Seth shook his head, all too aware of how these sorts of things could end, but he tried to lean into Ezra’s optimism, wanted to believe in it, and he let his partner pull him in. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Ezra repeated and pressed a kiss to the corner of Seth’s lips. “We’ve got some of that whiskey we were savin’ for when we returned to our homestead. I’m sure Cee wouldn’t mind us using some of it, with reasons as great as these.”
Seth nodded. “I’ll go fetch it.”
For the next hour Seth took meticulous care of Ezra’s wound, washing it out with both whiskey and water and extracting the bullet, offering his own belt for Ezra to bite down on as he did so. It pained him to hurt the man in any way, but they both knew it was necessary else the bullet remain lodged in his arm, and once it had been removed and the wound cleaned one more time, he bound it with strips from his cleanest of shirts.
The task of burying the bodies was a somehow less painful experience for him, probably due to the truly unfortunate number of times he’d had to commit the act in the past, plus the harm they had caused his love made him uncaring towards their fates or the fates of their bodies. The shallow graves they were given would be enough, and all he could afford to give with the sky now dark with night.
The night that followed was restless on both their parts, but they set out with the dawn all the same, saddling up and heading back on the road.
Over the following days, as their distance to Deadwood became ever creepingly shorter, Seth kept a careful eye on Ezra’s wound, washing it out every morning and night and wrapping it in the makeshift bandages he created from the rest of his shirt, but despite all their best efforts, he could see the redness of infection that had taken hold and the early onset of fever in Ezra’s eyes.
And then he fell off his horse.
Ezra’s chatter had been easing off ever since the infection had taken hold, and Seth had felt uncomfortable with allowing the teacher to continue riding without help, but Ezra had insisted that he would do just fine for a while longer yet. Seth still hadn’t been reassured, especially with how pale and sweaty he looked, but Ezra had mounted up before he could do anything about his doubts, and he was stuck following alongside him, sending worried glances his way every five minutes.
At first Ezra’s usual talk about anything and everything was there, filling the air like a constant buzzing, if a bit sparse, but after a few hours on the road he’d fallen silent. Seth had steered his horse closer as Ezra started to flag, but before he could reach out to pull their steeds to a safe stop the man was already slipping from the saddle.
“ Zee! ” he called as Ezra fell to the ground, and he jumped from his own mount to scramble to his side, his knees scuffing up more mud onto his clothes, but he couldn’t bring himself to care with how pale Ezra looked and the way his skin burned at the touch. “Zee, Zee talk to me.”
The man groaned, leaning into his hand but not stirring otherwise.
“Zee!” He gave Ezra’s cheek a few taps, opening his eyes but not sure what he was supposed to be looking for before holding his cheeks. “Wake up. You… We’re almost there.” Still nothing. “Stay with me. Just a little longer.”
Ezra’s quiet, his stillness and rasping breaths, reminded him too much of William, of that time sitting with Martha in Doc Cochran’s, keeping vigil as the world reminded him once again that it was cruel and unfair. He clutched at Ezra’s body. He wouldn’t let that happen, not again.
Transferring the supplies they had strapped to the back of his own saddle to that of Ezra’s was the work of mere minutes, but heaving the teacher up in front of him, his body limp and sagging in Seth’s arms, was more of a trial than he’d hoped, but it was one he met with determination and grit.
They truly hadn’t been much of a distance from town when Ezra had fallen, a fact that Seth was grateful for, but it still took almost the rest of the sun’s light to reach with the extra care he had to take with his precious load.
As he rode down the main causeway and approached the Doc’s, the street just as muddied and filled with the local rabble as it always was in the early evening, even as the stalls that had been set up there were beginning to pack away their wares, a familiar face approached.
“Seth!” Sol called, taking the reins of his horse as he threw them down. “What happened?”
“Get Miss May,” he said in lieu of an answer, gently pulling Ezra down into his arms, grunting at the weight of him. “Tell her her father’s at the Doc’s.”
“Right,” Sol replied, leading both horses aside as Seth quickly made his way to the Doc’s door.
“Doc!” he cried, kicking at the door in the hopes that the lit lamp within meant that he was, in fact, present and available. It seemed luck was on his side, as the door opened a crack a few moments later. “Doc, you’ve gotta help him.”
“Jesus Christ,” Cochran said, swinging his door open and ushering him in. “Put him on the table.”
Seth obliged his request, carefully setting Ezra down on the very table where-
“He was shot, six days ago,” he explained as Cochran collected his tools. “Back of the right arm. We tried to keep it clean but… It got infected.”
The Doc nodded. “Roll him over so I can see.”
Again, Seth followed his instructions, holding Ezra on his side while Cochran removed his patient’s shirt sleeve with some scissors and pulled the bandage away, though it was beginning to stick from the puss it was secreeting.
“How long has he been unconscious?” Cochran asked as he started to clean the wound, bringing the lamp closer so he could see better.
“Since just after midday.”
The Doc hummed and pulled a vial out of his bag. “Wave this under his nose; it should wake him up.”
Seth nodded and pulled the stopper out, holding it up to Ezra’s nose and almost jumping when the teacher almost jerked back to consciousness. “Zee?”
“Kettle?” came the reply. “What’s…? What’s goin’ on?”
“You got shot. Do ya remember that?”
Ezra frowned, but he nodded. “We were riding…”
“You fell off your horse. We’re at the Doc’s now. He’ll look after ya.”
Ezra grinned. “Told you he would.”
Seth tried his best to smile back, but with Ezra still pale and Cochran still looking him over, it wobbled and fell after a few moments. “Yeah. Yeah, you did.”
Suddenly, the Doc pressed against the edges of wound, and Ezra cried out as puss started to ooze from the edges, and then, much to Seth’s horror, Cochran pushed his finger into the hole, Ezra’s hand reaching out to squeeze at Seth’s arm as he tried to muffle himself.
“What in the hell are you doing to him?” Seth demanded, his fingers itching for his gun, anything to stop Ezra’s pain.
“I’m doing my god damn job, that’s what I’m doing,” the Doc said as he removed his finger and met Seth’s heated gaze. “You brought Mr May here to be placed under my care. Are you going to let me take care of him, or are you going to take him and let him die of gangrene?”
Seth gritted his teeth, wanting to retort, but a squeeze from Ezra had him backing down. That, and the door opening suddenly as Cee, Ezra’s daughter, barged in.
“Where is he?”
“‘S that you, Little Bird?” Ezra called, and in a moment she was at Seth’s side, Ezra’s hand slipping from his to her cheek. “Hey there.”
“You said you weren’t gunna get hurt,” she accused, as strong as she always was.
“Complications occurred,” he replied. “There were some folks on the road who were none too pleased that we reacted poorly to them pointing their firearms in our direction.”
She looked to Seth. “Are they dead?”
“And buried,” he replied with a solemn nod.
She nodded in return and turned her gaze on Cochran, who had continued his examination as they’d spoken but was now waiting for their attention. “... Well?”
The Doc sighed as he wiped his hands in a clean cloth. “Your father’s wound is infected,” he said. “Now, in a normal circumstance, I would remove the infected tissue and allow it to heal naturally, but his wound is substantial, and there is also further damage to the bone, so the risk of gangrene setting in even after I had removed the visibly damaged tissue would be high.”
Seth swallowed. “What're you sayin’, Doc?”
“What I’m saying is that, to prevent this from killing Mr May, I would highly recommend amputation.”
A silence fell over them, thick and deep, and filled with disbelief.
“You’re going to take my arm?” Ezra said, his voice shaking.
“I would prefer that to the infection taking your life.”
The teacher swallowed, staring blankly at nothing as he took a deep breath. “Do it.”
“Zee!”
“Dad!”
“No! I’m doing this!” Ezra snapped, pulling them both up short as he gave them sharp looks. “This is a mighty bit of misfortune, one that I never expected to befall me, but I made a promise not to leave you, and I’m gunna keep it.” He looked at both of them, and Seth knew that he’d made the same promise to both of them. “If the choice is my arm or my life, then I’m not gunna hesitate.”
Seth glared at the floor, his hatred for those dead men rising like bile in his throat.
“My arm or your life, Seth,” Ezra said, drawing his eyes back up again, meeting the soft gaze of his love. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
“... What can I do to help?”
“You mean, what can we do?” Cee said, looking to Cochran. “I won’t be pushed aside just because I’m a woman.”
“Nor would I expect you to, Miss May,” the Doc said. “You know your way around a surgeon’s tools?”
“I do,” she replied, pressing Ezra’s hand into Seth’s as she rolled her sleeves up. “Shall I set a pot to boil?”
“If you would,” Cochran said. “Sheriff, I’m gunna have to ask you to hold him down. The supply chains have been lax of late and I’m low on my anesthesia, so this will have to be done without.”
Seth nodded. “I can do that.”
“Good. And Mr May?”
“Yes, Doc?” Ezra replied, now even paler than before after hearing of the lack of anesthesia.
“If you think you’re going to pass out, don’t be a fucking hero and try to hold onto consciousness. It’ll be a mercy to us all if you’re out cold when this happens.”
“... Yes, Doc.”
Cochran grunted at his reply, then headed off to sterilise his tools, leaving the both of them in relative privacy.
Ezra gave his fingers a tight squeeze. "You alright there, Kettle?"
Seth choked on a surprised laugh. "Me? You're askin' if I'm the one who's okay?"
"I'd rather that than linger on the much less desired thought of what'll be occurring soon," Ezra replied with a strained grin.
Seth could give him that. "I've done better."
"Yeah. Me too."
They shared a sad look.
"... Those kids are gunna love those books you got 'em," Seth said when he couldn't take listening to the sound of tools dropping into water. "I surely wish I could have had such learning material in my own schooling, limited though it was."
"You're welcome to borrow them," Ezra replied. "Besides, I highly doubt that I'll be able to give any sort of comprehensive lessons for some time after this… after this."
"The kids love you."
"True though that may be, I am a natural with my right hand, it will take some practise to get my left up to standard."
Seth nodded and took Ezra's right hand in his before pressing a kiss to each of his fingers. He could feel the tug of salty tears in his eyes and the gentle touch of Ezra's thumb as he wiped them away, and he tried to savour it, much as he knew Ezra must have been doing the same. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you."
"Hey, no," Ezra scolded. "If this is the price I have to pay to have kept you alive, then I will gladly pay it." A tug to his chin had Seth meeting his eyes. "I'm not ready to give you up yet."
"I'm not ready to give you up yet either," Seth said, leaning close to press his brow against Ezra's clammy skin, his hat falling forgotten to the floor.
They stayed there like that until the Doc returned, Ezra using his right hand for what would be the last time to sooth Seth's fears with a gently stroking thumb.
"I suggest you get that in you," Cochran said, holding out a bottle of some sort of clear spirit and pressing it into Ezra's hand. "Might not have any anesthesia, but that's the next best thing."
Seth helped Ezra to sit up straight, Cochran watching until the teacher took his first gulp.
"Hoo," Ezra said, his eyes watering as he looked down at the bottle. "That's a potent brew."
"That's the idea," the Doc said, waving for him to continue before he headed back to where Cee was beginning to remove the tools from the boiling pot.
Ezra took another swig, then another, and another, until he'd swallowed a good half of the bottle, passing it off to Seth as the Doc approached again. "Do you believe me to be in a sufficiently inebriated state, Doctor?"
"Normally, with the sort of eloquence you're exhibiting, I would say no," the Doc said as he laid out the tools with Cee's assistant, "but as we are all very much aware that even when you're so deep in your cups that you can't even see straight you still talk like that, and the fact that half the bottle is gone, I'm going to say it's enough." He looked to Seth. "I suggest you divest yourself of the clothes you have no interest in cleaning of blood, or outright disposing of."
With a nod Seth drew back and removed his jacket, tie and vest, hastily rolling up his sleeves as Ezra lay himself down flat on the table, Cee pulling a strap tight around his upper arm a few inches above the wound.
"I'm sorry I've had to pull you back into this bloody business, Little Bird," Ezra said as his daughter tightened the strap further until his arm began to pale, then she tied some string a little lower.
"This ain't your fault," she replied, not quite meeting his eye but holding his shoulder all the same. "I'm gunna help the Doc, and then your Kettle and I'll take care of you while you recover."
Ezra grinned, the sight of it a sure sign that he was surely feeling the effects of that alcohol he had consumed. "You're both so good to me."
"That's 'cause we love you, you idiot," Cee said, stroking some of the hair that had stuck to Ezra's forehead out from his eyes where it had become too overgrown over the last few months, that perpetual patch of blonde curling about her finger before she pulled it away.
Seth gave his fingers a squeeze as he sat himself at Ezra's side again in a sign of solidarity, both prepared and unprepared for the operation and trying to draw some strength from the young woman less than half his age who seemed to be built of sterner stuff than even he was.
"Alright," Cochran said, pulling a small table closer to set the tray down upon it. "Now, there are two different procedures that I could conduct in order to remove the infected limb. The first, and most commonly used in… in the past, is a simple cut and removal. This method is quick, but it does take longer for the amputated area to heal as it leaves the end of the stump exposed. The second is a slightly longer procedure, where I would keep a strip of your skin still attached to your arm to use as a cover that would go over the end of the stump. I will have to note that this procedure is more painful, but it cuts down the recovery time significantly.
“I have experience in conducting both of these procedures, but I would highly recommend the latter. It might mean that you experience more pain during the operation itself, but it will mean that you will be able to get back to those kids of yours faster, and give your body the chance to combat this fever with more efficiency, do you understand?”
“I understand your meaning, Doctor,” Ezra replied as he stared up at the ceiling, his grip on Seth’s hand tight enough to make him start to lose feeling in his fingertips. “I… will go by your judgement.”
Cochran nodded and picked up a scalpel. “Mr Bullock, I suggest you pin him down by his shoulders.”
Seth nodded and amended his position so he was standing over Ezra. “You’ll have t’ let go of my hand, Zee.”
Ezra swallowed and nodded, though it took him a few moments to release Seth from his grasp, only to move his grip onto Seth’s arm instead. “Is this…?”
“You do what you need to,” Seth said, giving him as comforting a smile as he could, even as Cee pushed a leather strap between Ezra’s teeth. “I got you.”
“I’m about to make the first incision,” Cochran said as Cee moved to hold Ezra’s arm down. “I’ll try to get this done as quickly as possible.”
Breathing heavily through his nose, Ezra nodded. Seth didn’t look, but he knew when the first incision was made when Ezra’s fingers dug into his arm.
“Just look at me,” he said, trying to pull his attention as the man twitched and shifted under his hands. “Keep looking at me. Don’t look away.”
Ezra’s eyes flighered from side to side for a moment before stopping on Seth, a pinpoint focus dulled by alcohol and pain.
“That’s it,” Seth said. “Just keep looking at me. I’m not going anywhere.”
As the Doc continued with his work Seth kept talking, about how they were going to be there for him when this was all over, and how much the kids were going to love their new books. When the Doc peeled the flap of skin off and Ezra started to moan, he felt his grip on his arm grow to a bruising level.
Cee swiped up the blood as the Doc retrieved the caitlin knife from his table, and Seth shifted his weight so he was more firmly holding Ezra down.
“You might want to hold his hips down too,” the Doc said.
When Seth met his eyes, he could see just how serious he was being, and he moved to sit atop Ezra. He felt something too warm seeping into the knee of his trousers, and he had to close his eyes for a moment to keep himself from looking.
“I’m about to start cutting through the muscle now,” Cochran said. “Now is about the time where, if you start to feel yourself getting faint, you shouldn’t fight it.”
Seth felt Ezra shift under him as he nodded.
“Alright then,” the Doc said and pressed his hand over Seth’s. “Miss May, I suggest you keep a tight hold of his arm.”
“I know what I’m doing,” she said, voice hard, and once again Seth couldn’t help but admire her strength.
But then the Doc made his first cut, and Ezra’s muffled scream filled the room. His body writed under Seth, trying to buck him off, but Seth pushed him down, even as his legs kicked and scrambled behind him. More of that warmth seeped into his trousers, and a little splattered onto his arm, but he couldn’t focus on that, only on keeping Ezra steady.
Thankfully though, Ezra’s eyes rolled up into his head and he passed out fairly quickly after the first few seconds, his body going limp and the grip he’d held of Seth’s arm vanishing.
“He’s lost consciousness, Doc,” Seth said, though he continued to hold Ezra down, as his body continued to jolt as Cochran worked.
“Thank Christ,” Cochran said. “Keep holding him ‘til I’m done. I don’t want to fuck any of this up.”
Seth gritted his teeth, still not looking directly at the operation that was occurring, but he could see a worrying amount of red on the table beside him, turning Ezra’s green vest almost black as it started to seep in.
The rest of the operation was agonisingly slow, hearing the sounds of the knife as it cut through muscle, nerves and blood vessels alike, and then the feel of the vibrations of the saw in Ezra’s shoulder were almost enough to make Seth vomit, but he held it in. He would not abandon Ezra in his hour of need. When Cee moved away, taking a good chunk of Ezra’s arm with her, he almost lost that battle with himself, and still there was more for the Doc to do.
Thread was carefully tied around each of the arteries, stopping the remaining blood flow entirely (though the strap around Ezra’s arm had cut of almost all of the circulation in the first place), and then he produced the scalpel again to scrape the edges of the bone clean before, at last, pulling the flap of skin he had prepared before over the stump and sewing it in place.
By the time he had reached this last stage, Seth had moved back to the chair that had been provided and was holding Ezra’s hand. He knew it was more for his own comfort than that of the school teacher’s but he couldn’t bring himself to let go. Cee knew so much more about the way a body worked and how to deal with situations like this than Seth did, and he felt so useless now that his role was over.
“I’ll cover the stump with some plaster and bandage him up,” the Doc said as he finished his stitching, “but I can safely say that the amputation was a complete success. We can clean him up a bit and relocate him to the bed once we’re done.”
Seth nodded. “Thanks Doc.”
“... You might want to get some fresh clothes for yourself too, Sheriff.”
Seth finally looked up, and then down at himself. Almost the entirety of the left side of his trousers had been soaked through, and his shirt hadn’t escaped either. He was sure his underclothes would be ruined as well, and he almost panicked for a moment that seeing Ezra breathing in front of him had been some vivid imagining, but when he looked again he could see the man’s chest rising and falling. He reached out to touch Ezra’s fevered brow, just to reassure himself, but then a hand landed on his shoulder.
“Why don’t you head home for a bit?” Cee suggested, her thumb rubbing soothing circles on his back. “I’ll take care of him while you’re gone.”
“... I don’t think there’s anyone else in town I’d trust more with his care,” Seth said, giving Ezra one more look before pulling himself to his feet. “I won’t take long.”
“You’ll take as long as you need,” Cee said, taking him by the arm with his hat and vest on the other. “Just make sure you get dad some clothes too.”
“Yes ma’am,” Seth replied, allowing her to set the hat on his head as she opened the door for him. “Will you be in need of anything?”
She smiled and patted his cheek. “I’ll sort myself out once you return.”
With that he was out on the streets of Deadwood again, the dark of the night hiding some of the gore that was starting to dry in his clothes, but not much.
“Seth?”
The Sheriff flinched, looking over at where Sol had been leaning against the Doc’s, having clearly been waiting for him.
“Are you okay?”
Seth looked down at himself and shrugged. “It’s not my blood.”
“Yeah, but are you okay?”
Seth wanted to say ‘yes’. He wanted to say he was ‘fine’, that it wasn’t him that Sol should worry about, but ever since Ezra had been shot he’d been feeling fragile, like the smallest touch would shatter him, and he’d held it together for him, for the operation, for his daughter, and he thought that maybe he was. But then now, in the quiet of a Deadwood night, with his friend looking at him with a deep seated worry in his eyes, he felt something inside him snap and the first tear fell.
“I can’t lose him, Sol.”
“Alright,” Sol said, stepping closer to pull his head down to rest on his shoulder, awkwardly holding him as Seth stood there, trying not to cry but only making it worse. “He ain’t gunna die. That man o’ yours is made of strong stuff. Just you wait.”
Seth wanted to reply, but he found his voice had lost its grip and instead he just followed Sol down the road, head ducked enough that his face was hidden by the brim of his hat, until they reached his own porch.
“I’m gunna wait out here for you,” Sol said. “You get what you need and do what you need to do. I’ll be here.”
Seth could only nod his thanks as he stepped inside.
He couldn’t say how long he spent in the house -- getting himself cleaned, removing his bloodied clothes and replacing them with fresh ones, trying not to think about how empty his bed looked as he searched for some clothes for Ezra -- but there were salty tear stains on his pillows when he left. Sol was waiting for him, just as he’d said he would, and he walked with him back to the Doc’s, even going so far as to offer his services in removing the boxes of books and keeping them safe in the meantime. Seth happily took him up on the offer, bidding him a goodnight before heading back to Ezra’s side.
The plaster had already been applied and had long since set by the time he’d arrived, a bandage wound over the top to keep everything protected and secure. Cee was wiping the blood from Ezra’s now bare chest, but when Seth approached and held out his hand, she handed the responsibility over to him without a fuss.
“I’ll go and get myself some fresh clothes,” she said as she left, pressing a kiss to Ezra’s brow and another to Seth’s cheek before heading out the door.
After that, and the slow task of cleaning Ezra up and dressing him in fresh clothes, all any of them could do was sit at his bedside and wait for the fever to break. For the best part of a day Ezra remained in this state of unconsciousness, Cee using a damp cloth to keep his brow cool while Seth sat by his side, even going so far as to read some of one of the books they’d brought for the school to him, but then, in the early morning of the second day, the fever broke and he began to stir.
“Ezra?” Seth said as his breathing pattern started to shift into something more shallow. “Zee? Are you awake?”
Ezra shifted a little on the mattress before opening his eyes, crusted with sleep though they were, and gave him a smile. “Well ain’t that the prettiest sight to wake up to?”
Seth let an embarrassed grin grace his lips for a moment and Cee -- his ever present companion -- snorted, but it, just like every other smile he’d attempted recently, was only fleeting and slipped away before it could be given the chance to stick. “How’re you feelin’?”
“I suspect my answer to that would not be to your liking,” Ezra replied and ran his hand through his hair.
Or he would have, except all that happened was the stump where his arm used to be moved, and Ezra’s expression fell.
“... I had hoped that the experience of… losing my right arm had been an imagining of my fevered mind,” he muttered. “I see now that I was mistaken in that hope.”
“You’re alive,” Cee said, resting her hand on Ezra’s shoulder. “You can learn to use your left hand, and you can still teach the kids just fine without it.”
“But now I won’t be able to hold you both at the same time,” Ezra complained, surprising a laugh out of Seth, which, from the smirk on Ezra’s face, seemed to have been his plan the whole time. “I shall miss the convenience of it, and I know that learning to overcome my reliance on my once dominant hand will be a great difficulty to overcome, but I also know that the two greatest loves of my life will be there to guide my weaker side until it is strong again.”
Seth had to blink a few times to keep his tears from falling. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Kettle,” Ezra said. “And you, Little Bird. And I do love that the Doc’s saved me, but I don’t particularly want to take up this bed any longer. Do you think he’d be willing to allow me to go home in the near future?”
Seth grinned and leaned closer to press a kiss to his lover’s lips. “I’ll see what I can do.”
——————————————————————
Let this small family live in peace in their nice house that Seth built with his own hands!!!
#writing#fic#fanfic#fanfiction#prospect (2018)#deadwood#seth bullock#ezra (prospect)#cee (prospect)#sol star#doc cochran#tw blood#tw amputation#tw bullet wound#tw infection#school teacher!ezra#sezra#sethra#seth bullock/ezra
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Confession - Doc Cochran x Reader [Fluff]
Synopsis: You work to get a confession out of Doc. It goes just as well as you expected it would.
Notes: Thanks to @tats-kisses-and-horror I’m hooked on this show. There’ll definitely be more Deadwood coming, for more characters!
"Do you love me, Doc?"
You're laying on your back, spread out on the bed as the wood fire’s aroma fills your homely little cabin. He pauses in the pursuit of polishing his glasses.
"I can't rightly say."
You roll your eyes. Always an honest answer out of this one.
"You can't rightly say," you mimic his voice, swinging your legs over the side. He furrows his brows, and goes back to his polishing.
"'S what I said."
"Well, you really do know how to make a girl feel special."
He sighs, abandoning his project and turning to you fully. He lifts a finger, and you can feel the impending rant. You try not to grin in amusement. "Too many men in this town make false claims. Exaggerated claims, promises they can't keep." He hesitates. "Now if I were to make a promise, I don't see how I could break it, I'm not the breaking promises sort. Plus, there's really nowhere for me to go. But that's beside the point, and my point stands-- I don't wanna say anything I don't mean."
"So you don't love me," you pout, tracing a finger around the base of his neck. He swallows.
"I didn't say that."
You slide your way into his lap. "Then you do."
He frowns at you, paying no attention to the breasts in his face. "You like torturing me, don't you?"
"If I have to suffer through love, so do you."
"Who said anything about love?!"
"I did." You wrap your legs around the back of the chair, keeping him stuck there. "Do you know how much I love you, my wild-eyed softie?
He blinks those blue eyes at you, giving you an inch. "...How much?"
"To the moon and back. Then to the moon again. Then back again."
"By the time you get back from two trips to the moon, I'll be dead," he tells you frankly, and you can't help but burst into giggles and collapse in his arms. He looks down at you, and lets a fond smile grow. He can't believe he got so lucky as to catch the eye of Seth Bullock's beautiful younger sister. He still can't understand why you picked him, out of a town of wild animals who could show you a good time.
"I know what you're thinking," you look up from his lap, "And you do show me a good time. When it counts." You smirk, and give your skirts a little fluff. He blushes, and you kiss him on the cheek, holding his head in the nape of your neck.
"Doc. I know I can go out on the town every night, drink til I fall over, but when I get home, I know I’ll have your arms to fall into. I know you’ll be there.”
“Of course,” he assures, voice soft as his eyes descend finally, “Of course, darlin’.” His thumb strokes your cheek, and you lean into the gesture, lips barely a breath apart.
“I love every minute I spend with you, and you treat me like a princess. C'mon. Won't you say it too?"
He looks into your eyes. "(y/n). You're my world. You're what makes this fucking grind worth it. But if I say I love you, and something happened to you, I couldn't..." His bottom lip is quivering, so you steady it with your own, pressing your lips to his. He moans softly, holding you tight as he deepens the kiss. In that moment, sitting in Doc Cochran's shabby little medicine cabin, you know-- he doesn't have to say it.
He pulls away, eyes shut. “I love you.”
You nuzzle into his chest. “I know.”
#brad dourif#doc cochran#doc cochran x reader#reader x doc cochran#brad dourif x reader#reader x brad dourif#deadwood#deadwood the show#deadwood the movie#hbo#deadwood fanfiction#deadwood imagine
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Sometimes When I Get to Thinking pt 6
3907 words
cw: talk of pregnancy, miscarriage, violence, brief aleblist language and MAJOR season 3 spoilers
Second part of part 5
Hope everyone enjoys!!!
Over the next week your and the docs routines go back to relative normalcy, with the doc tending to his patients and the whores in town, to their relief, and you helping him as much as you can, making ointments, and accompanying him on his rounds. You find you never want to be away from him, now more than ever. The two of you spend nights together reading from his medical journals anything they say about pregnancy so you have a sound understanding of what’s to come, and the doc finally has his day in front of Mrs Bullock’s students. He wows them with his knowledge, and he wows you also. As you watch you can’t help hoping that you carry the baby growing inside of you to term, because it’s become crystal clear to you what a wonderful father Amos will be. You turn to Mrs Bullock, whom you’re standing next to behind the children’s desks.
“I’m with child,” you whisper to her, unable to hold the news in any longer. You just needed to tell one of your female companions, and Mrs Bullock seems the best choice seeing as she’s your only friend who has given birth. “And I’m sorry if I overstep any boundaries by telling you so.”
“You certainly do not overstep any boundaries. I’m delighted to hear you’re expecting,” she replies earnestly, taking your hand in hers.
“Amos and I aren’t sure I’ll carry to term, but we’ll take whatever happens in our stride. I’m just happy we’ve gotten this far,” you say, and turn back to watch the doc. Mrs Bullock continues to look to you as tears prick at your eyes. A smile grows on your face. “I apologise for my emotions, seeing my husband teaching all these wonderful children just makes me so endlessly happy.”
“I understand completely (Y/N). Mr Bullock and I will be with you no matter what happens, I can promise you that... and if you don’t mind me saying, you’ll both make such wonderful parents,” she says, and you squeeze at her hand, unable to speak for the moment. Amos pauses his lesson for a few seconds when he notices your glistening teary eyes. You smile to him and mouth to him that you’re okay, so he continues. After his lesson Amos joins you at the back of the schoolhouse, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as he pulls you close to him.
“Why were you crying?” he whispers.
“Because you make me so happy, and because you’re going to make the most wonderful father,” you whisper back. When you look up into his eyes you can see tears starting to form. “You’ll make me cry again if you start crying.”
“We’d better get out of here then,” he says as you exit from the back of the school. You sit on the back steps with Amos, letting your legs rest, and tears begin to fall from his eyes.
“Oh Amos, tell me what you’re thinking,” you say, wiping tears from his cheeks with your thumb. He takes your hand.
“You have any good memories from your childhood? I mean real good ones,” he asks, and you nod.
“I remember sitting on my mothers lap, and she’d be knitting and she’d sing to me, and I couldn’t have been more than four years old, yet I remember it like it were yesterday. It’s a golden memory, that’s what I call it, bathed in golden light,” you say pensively, smiling at the thought.
“I have this memory of my father, sitting in his lap also, out on the grass underneath this big maple tree, and he was reading to me... don’t these golden memories, as you call them, make you want to give the same to our child?”
“They do Amos. I want to see you reading to our child, I want to sing to our child... I want to make our child as happy as these memories make me,” you reply, taking his hands in yours. “You know, Sofia told me,” you say.
“Told you what?” the doc asks, confused.
“When I was seeing to her for her mother she told me about when her family died and you took care of her. She told me that you sat in your cabin, shotgun in your lap, willing to defend her with your life if you had to... she didn’t say it in so many words, but I understood. I admire you so much for that, for protecting that vulnerable little girl, and I’m contented knowing you’ll do the same for our child.”
“During the war,” he begins, ignoring your flattery as he always does. “I saw a great number of atrocities; men with their limbs shot off screaming for their mothers, in unfathomable pain. I never thought I’d live through the war, I hoped I would, but I was almost sure I would not, then, coming here, I never thought for a minute I’d fall in love, or get married, have a wife, be a husband. I thought it would be me and my medicine for the rest of my life. Being a parent is something I could have only dreamed of, but never dared to for fear of disappointment... However this turns out, I’m just glad we tried, and that we have the chance to dream of our parenthood,” he tells you passionately, then leans over, kissing you through his tears, and laying a hand on your belly. He pulls away suddenly as Jane stomps out from the nearby restroom, making you jump.
“What the fuck are you two perverts doing kissing outside the schoolhouse!?” she yells.
“Jesus Jane, keep your voice down! You’ll scare the kids!” you tell her in a harsh whisper. The doc wipes his tears and collects himself before turning to Jane.
“I just got done teaching a lesson,” the doc tells her levelheadedly.
“Well, is Mrs Bullock just inviting anyone to give lessons now!?” she exclaims, more quietly now.
“We’re going to go now Jane,” you say, and the doc helps you to stand. “But you should come visit us for a meal or coffee when you feel like it, and when you’re less drunk... and bring Joanie too if you’d like,” you add.
“And why, in the fuck, would I bring Joanie!?” she asks as you begin to walk.
“We can get into that another time. Nice to see you Jane.”
As the two of you begin your slow walk home, your arm interlaced with his, a big man walks up to you, stopping you in your tracks.
“Mr Hearst would like to see you,” he says to the doc, then walks off again. You look to your husband, your eyes full of worry.
“I’m coming with you,” you say, already walking towards Farnum’s inn. Most everyone in town knows where Hearst lives.
“No you’re goddamn not, you’re going home,” he replies.
“I’ve heard some real bad things about him Amos, I mean he hacked one of Al’s fingers off for gods sake! I’m sure it will be better if I go with you, at least so you won’t be outnumbered.”
“Honey, it will be better if you go home. Men don’t tend to hurt doctors, but they may hurt their wives,” he tells you, his face and tone scarily serious.
“But he may be less likely to hurt anyone in a woman’s presence. I’m not leaving your side Amos, and you can’t persuade me otherwise,” you say as you come to the inn. The doc nods, seeing there’s no use in arguing with you, and just before you walk into the hotel lobby you spot Dan walking in the opposite direction towards the Gem. You grab him by his arm, getting his attention. “Tell Al the doc has been called to see Hearst, tell him we don’t know why, and that I’m with him.”
“And tell him not to do anything rash, just let him know,” the doc adds, and Dan rushes off, understanding the danger the two of you may or may not be in. Amos helps you up those goddamn awful stairs before knocking on Mr Hearst’s door.
“It’s open!” he yells, and when the doc opens the door you’re greeted by the large man who had called you there, whom you assume to be Mr Hearst’s muscle, and by Mr Hearst himself, who is lying on his back on the hard wooden floor. He turns his head to look at the two of you, and winces, looking from you to the doc a few times before letting his eyes linger on you.
“I’m Mrs Cochran,” you say, explaining yourself before a question has even been asked. “Don’t mind me, just get done what you need to get done.”
The doc kneels down beside Hearst, placing his medical bag down.
“What seems to be the problem?” Amos asks, pushing his glasses up.
“My back. Can’t seem to get up,” Hearst says.
“Alright,” the doc replies and begins to feel around the man. You notice Hearst’s muscle’s hand reach for his gun, and you give him a warning look. Surely he wouldn’t shoot a doctor you think... surely. The doc helps to turn him on his side, and feel around his back rather vigorously. Hearst begins to yell out and the doc just tells him to be quiet. You love watching him work, to see his concentration and his care, or in this case his deliberate lack of it. “How long have you had this pain?” he asks Hearst.
“Long time, but it’s worse now,” Hearst replies, and the doc nods, rummaging through his medical bag.
“Alright, it seems to me you have a herniated disk,” the doc explains, pulling out a balm and a tincture from his bag. “I’m gonna rub this into your lower back to help with the inflammation, and then I’ll get you to take some of this for some quick relief,” the doc explains, holding both of the containers up for Hearst to see. “And I’m instructing you to start hot compresses made of hot grains wrapped in cloth from now on, not cold as I assume you’ve been told.”
“How long you been married?” Hearst asks, to no one in particular as the doc begins applying the ointment.
“Couple months,” you both reply in unison, keeping your answers short. Your twin act makes Hearst smile despite the pain. It’s an extremely unsettling smile.
“Do you find it emasculating, doctor, to have your woman follow you around, like a dog? To have your woman speak over you, as a dog would bark over you?” he asks, and the doc looks back to you, eyebrows furrowed, before replying. He knows your temper has been more explosive than usual since you became pregnant, and he wants to allay any outbursts.
“My wife does not emasculate me, quite the opposite,” the doc replies, readying the tincture for Hearst, mixing it with water.
“You have such archaic views on marriage Mr Hearst,” you speak up, smiling. Keeping quiet, in your mind, would only prove that you are a submissive wife, something that you are almost never mistaken for.
“Do I offend you, Mrs Cochran?” Hearst asks before drinking the drug.
“What offends me is the thought of you thinking such an ordinary boring insult would offend me,” you reply. His words make you think back to your father, but Hearst doesn’t hold a candle to his verbal berating. “It usually, from my experience, works better when you at least address the person you are endeavouring to insult, for example, Mr Hearst, your widely circulated nickname, I guess we shall call it, the boy the earth talks to, takes on another meaning completely upon meeting you sir. It seems to me that dirt would be the only thing worthy of conversing with you.... Also, I might add, your thinking my being here would emasculate my husband says more about you, Mr Hearst, than anyone else in this room, and certainly tells me much more about you than I’m sure you’d wish it too. Who could have imagined that you, who has been boasted as being such a powerful bruit of a man, a Cesar, or a Napoleon of sorts, great dictator over all gold finds, could be emasculated so easily, by a little crippled thing like me,” you make fun of him as you speak, saying his name ironically, changing the pitch of your voice to mock him. Barely a moment has passed from when you stop speaking to you being shoved up against a wall by the large man, forearm to your neck. At least you’ve struck a nerve, you think, although you’re afraid again, the same as you were at the Bella Union. The doc jumps, turning to you again. If only you could keep your goddamn mouth shut.
“Unhand her, right now,” the doc demands, voice deep and authoritative, and you can see he’s shaking from rage, and probably fear also. He stands, taking his medical bag in hand. “We’re leaving,” the doc tells the two men.
“You, girl, are too big for your goddamn boots. There are many things I can think to do with you, to you,” Hearst says, standing with a grunt. Your eyes begin to water, the pressure on your neck becoming stronger. You grab the mans clenched fist, digging your nails into him. Suddenly you hear a call from downstairs, and you recognise Dan’s voice immediately.
“Doc! You’re needed at the Gem! There is a critical situation with one of the whores!” Dan yells, and the doc grabs your hand from the mans fist, nails bloodied. The man turns to Hearst and Hearst nods, so the man promptly releases you, and the doc drags you quickly to and out the door.
“Hearst you fuck! You fucking bastard! Can’t even hurt me your goddamn fucking self you fucking coward!” You yell in a rasp, breathing heavy as you stumble down the stairs and out of the inn, Dan following in step. The two men help you up the stairs of the Gem, practically carrying you into Al’s office, where they sit you down. The doc immediately begins to inspect your reddened neck, and you unbutton your dress, engorged breasts inadvertently spilling out. “Fuck,” you comment under your breath, and place an arm over your breasts to cover yourself before the doc removes his jacket, placing it over you. You’ll most definitely need to buy yourself some new dresses soon, if the pregnancy holds, but that’s the last thing you need to worry about right now.
“I can never seem to keep my goddamn mouth shut,” you say in a whisper.
“And what exactly did you fucking say?” Al asks, pouring a drink for him and the doc. The doc answers, explains how the altercation unfolded.
“He’s a fucking pig of a man,” you say, and both Al and the doc down their shots.
“And he deserved everything you said to him, but you shouldn’t have goddamn said it, you... you put yourself in fucking danger,” the doc says, and Al hands you a handkerchief that you use to wipe your bloody hand.
“What a phoney fucking bastard, but good on you for standing up to him. Seems you really got to the cocksucker,” Al comments. You nod to him in reply as a kind of thank you for his words, wiping away a few stale tears that had escaped against your will as a result of the strangling.
“You fucking okay Amos?” you ask, taking his hand and turning to him from your seated position.
“You’re the one who was just fucking assaulted, how do you fucking feel?” he asks, his anxiety palpable.
“Murderous, and sick to my fucking stomach,” you reply, and the doc places an affectionate hand on your abdomen. “Good thing you fucking called for us when you did. Thank you Al, truly,” you finally say as you begin to calm down.
“You may like yours hot (Y/N), but I like mine cold. We’re waiting to retaliate till we have enough fucking men, otherwise it’ll be a bloodbath, and one sided too,” Al comments pensively.
“Should we get Sheriff Bullock?” the doc asks you, and you nod.
“If only to keep him in the loop,” you reply, and Al walks to the door, yelling at Johnny to go get Bullock. You move from your seat into the docs lap and wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, and the doc runs his fingers through your hair affectionately.
“Don’t be goddamn sorry,” he tells you, and kisses your head. Suddenly Trixie bursts in, making you both jump. Your head shoots up to look at her.
“What the fuck happened!?” she asks, slamming the door behind her.
“What?” you asked, shocked that news can travel so fast.
“What!? Did I not just see you being dragged out of Hearst’s, previously fucking Farnum’s inn, hollering and the like!? Jesus Christ your fucking neck!” she yells, rushing over to you.
“I’m okay, I’ll be okay,” you tell her, standing again. You know the doc doesn’t enjoy you being so affectionate to him in front of so many people. It makes him shy. A moment later Bullock walks in, Charlie Utter trailing behind him, and you take your seat again. “Some kind of party in here,” you say, trying to make a joke and lighten the mood, but it falls on deaf ears.
“Is it Hearst?” Bullock asks you and the doc. You nod in reply. “What would you have me do?”
“Well I did provoke him,” you say.
“He provoked you,” the doc replies.
“And I provoked him back, unfortunately,” you explain, and then there is another knock on the door.
“What!?” Al yells, and when the door opens you see both Merrick and Blazanov. “Could we fit any more people in this fucking room? Come in out of the fucking doorway then!” Al exclaims. You put a hand to your belly and close your eyes, trying to calm your nerves and endure a burst of pain that’s come over you.
“I have a telegram for Mr Hearst you should see Mr Swearengen,” Blazanov explains as Dan and Johnny enter the room also, closing the door behind them. Al begins to read the telegram, and as he finishes, looking up to the room Jewel walks in, tray of food in her hands.
“I brought you toast and eggs and bacon,” she announces, walking over to you. “Gee, you don’t look so good,” she comments, and when the doc turns back to you he notices how pale you’ve become.
“Probably do need to eat something. Thank you Jewel, I fucking appreciate it,” you tell her, taking her hand in yours.
“Hearst is bringing in reinforcements,” Al comments, looking up from the telegram. “It’s in my mind to just ambush the cocksucker tonight, feed him to Wu’s fucking pigs. I mean to attack a pregnant woman! What kind of-“
“Al!” you yell to him suddenly, reaching out for your husbands hand instinctually.
“What? Oh...” he replies, placing a finger over his mouth once he realises what he’s said.
“You didn’t have to goddamn tell everyone Al,” you say, your voice quieter now.
“Wait a goddamn minute, how the hell do you know (Y/N)’s pregnant?” the doc asks Al, glaring at him.
“I let it slip the night I came to the town meeting Amos, and in my defence Al promised to keep it to his fucking self,” you reply, also glaring at Al now. The doc reaches over to stroke your cheek, giving you a reassuring smile. Everyone in the room watches you and Amos in silence for a moment, noticing the way you lovingly gaze into each others eyes. For the two of you it’s a private moment, the others in the room temporarily transported out of it, but to everyone else it’s a moment of awkwardness or longing, possibly both.
“Anyways,” Bullock pipes up, pulling the two of you out of your trance.
“Some of you need to get the fuck out of here, and I’m not talking about (Y/N) or the doc,” Al says, handing the telegram back to Blazanov. “Take it to Hearst,” he commands. Blazanov, Merrick, Jewel, Trixie, Dan and Johnny leave. “We’re gonna wait till we have enough men to make our move. I’ll send Dan to hire some guns, but until then Johnny’ll keep a lookout from your place,” he tells the doc.
“I’ll take tonights shift,” Charlie says, suddenly alerting you to his presence in the room. “And congratulations, to both of you.”
“Thank you Charlie,” you tell him, and Amos turns, nodding his thanks to him.
“We’d better go,” Amos says, standing, then helps you to your feet. With your cane in one hand and his in the other, your husband, yourself and Charlie walk out of the Gem and towards your house. “You’re shaking,” Amos says once you’re home, Charlie staying outside on his watch.
“Just... just cold I think, o-or it’s the adrenaline,” you reply as you sit at your dining table, dropping your cane down.
“Just sit there for a moment,” he says, walking off into his cabin.
“Not like I can go anywhere fast,” you reply in jest. The doc locks all his doors so no one can get in, and grabs his shotgun and a blanket, laying the blanket over you once he’s back. You hold it over your chest, teeth chattering.
“Would you like to leave here? Charlie could have a carriage ready in half an hour,” he asks, sitting beside you, and you shake your head quickly.
“I could never ask that of you,” you reply.
“I’m asking it of you,” he rebuts. “Do you want to go away? Do you want us to live somewhere safer?”
“No Amos. No. I’m a woman, and I’m a cripple, and anywhere I go men will find it extremely easy to take advantage of me... they always do... besides you’re needed here. We have friends here, we have a home. I don’t want to go anywhere, I want to stay here with you.”
“Alright honey,” he says, giving you a reassuring smile.
“Once this is over though, before the baby comes, I’d like to visit New York, see the opera, buy you some medical books, stay in a fancy hotel and be waited on. Can we do that Amos?” you ask, and he reaches out for your hand, which is shaking.
“Course we can honey. Some leisure time away from here’ll be good for you,” he replies, and you stand, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders and walking to him before sitting across his lap.
“I really am sorry I spoke up today Amos. The last thing I want to do is cause you any more stress,” you say, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and looking into his eyes.
“You need to stop goddamn apologising. You said what needed to be said! Hearst it the one at fault, not you!” he tells you sternly, taking your face in his hands. “Eventually he’ll leave, and everything will go back to normal.”
“And we’ll be a family,” you add, and he kisses you good and hard.
“We’re already a family,” he tells you, pulling away with one of those shy genuine smiles you love so much.
#deadwood#deadwood fanfic#deadwood fic#deadwood fanfiction#doctor cochran#doc cochran#doctor amos cochran#doc cochran fanfic#doc cochran fic#doc cochran x reader#doc cochran fanfiction#doctor cochran fanfic#doctor cochran fic#doctor cochran x reader#doctor cochran fanfiction#Brad Dourif#brad dourif fic#brad dourif x reader#brad dourif fanfic#brad dourif fanfiction
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Sometimes When I Get to Thinking part 1
4382 words
Hi all, I’ve been really getting into Deadwood, so here’s part 1 of a Doc Cochran fic because he’s just so goddamn wonderful!
In the fic the character I wrote for is chronically ill, and probably has endometriosis or something along those lines, as I do, so this is dedicated to all the wonderful chronically ill people out there because I know we’re all going through it and could probably use a helping hand from Doc Cochran
I hope everyone who reads this enjoys! (also season 1 spoilers ahead)
You’d caught a ride into Deadwood with a few other men, riding on the back of one of their horses, and repaying them for their kindness with the leftover food you had in your satchel from your travels. You were just passing through, ready to bargain a ride from the next person leaving Deadwood to go to a big city, but you were glad to have been able to snag a room at the towns inn, at least for a few nights. Sleeping in a bed definitely beat the nights you spent out in the cold, waiting for a horse or carriage to pass you by. On your first night in the lawless town, lying in your bed as you tried to fall asleep, you felt an overwhelming pain that permeated from your pelvic region, between your hips. It was not a foreign pain to you. You'd felt in many a time before, but not to this extent, and not for such an extended period of time.
After lying in bed for a few hours wishing the pain away you slowly got out of bed, fighting the overwhelming urge to just lie down and not move. You grab the walking cane you use to get around, deciding to head downstairs, looking for a drink that you hope will ease your pain, but just before you reach the stairs you fall to the floor, the loud thud alerting the inn’s owner, Farnum, to your less than desirable situation.
“Are you okay?” he asks you as he walks half way up the stairs, surveying you.
“I-“ you’re in so much pain you can hardly get a word out. You fold your body over, curling up into a ball as you wrap your arms around yourself, pailful groans escaping your lips.
I-I’ll get the doc,” Farnum tells you before scurrying off quickly, returning a few minutes later with the slightly dishevelled looking doctor. The two men help you back into bed, laying you on your back. You curl up again, crying out from the pain and squeezing your eyes shut.
"You have a pain in your belly?" the doc asks you, having noticed the way you're gripping onto it, and you nod. "I'm going to have to get you undressed to check up on you, okay?" you nod again in reply, and the doc glares over to Farnum, who realises this is his queue to leave. "Okay, it'll all be okay soon," he comforts you, and a few tears fall as you try your hardest to help the doctor remove your dress, placing it on the bed beside you. He lifts your under skirt up so it's above your abdomen and begins to feel around, pressing on your stomach. "How're your moons?" he asks, watching your expression change as he begins to press lower. You wince in pain.
"About a week away," you reply, and then yell out, gripping his arm. "This has happened... this has happened before! I just need something for the... the pain!" you begin to sob, your body squirming. The pain makes you unable to sit still. Doc pulls your skirt down and opens his medical bag, rummaging through it for a moment before grabbing one of his tinctures. You yell out again, pulling at your hair. Doc puts some of the drug in a glass of water and holds the glass up to your mouth, and you drink it, squeezing his hand as you wait for the drug to take effect. "Thank you," you say in a whisper, feeling some of your pain subside almost instantly. "Thank you."
“Okay, now that the drug had begun to take effect, why don’t you tell me what’s going on,” he says, sitting on a chair beside the bed, not even acknowledging your words of gratitude. You’re still gripping his hand, and you don’t plan on letting go. Now, looking at him for the first time without the distraction of unbearable pain, you notice how handsome he is. He’s staring at you intensely, eyebrows still furrowed, and you suddenly feel hot under his gaze, your cheeks turning red. It’s as if he’s looking right into you.
“A few years after my moons started this started,” you explain. “I’m always in pain, and most of the time I can handle it, but every now and then this happens,” you wince again, squeezing your eyes shut. The drug still hasn’t taken full effect. “And it’s not just my belly, I feel it in my... my back, my hips, down my legs… that’s why I use a cane. I really didn’t want to disturb you, I thought I’d be able to get through it on my own this time…”
“Now don’t you pay any mind to disturbing me, you hear?” he tells you forcefully. “If you’re in pain, if you need help, you come find me or you get someone else to come find me, do you understand!?” he’s yelling now, which makes you jump at first, then makes you smile ever so slightly. “Don’t you be the doctor! I’m the doctor! You come see me!” he pauses for a moment, standing. “Why are you smiling?” he asks, evidently confused.
“I think I might like you yelling at me a little too much Doc,” you admit, biting your bottom lip, your cheeks reddening more. His cheeks flush slightly too, and your breathing becomes heavy.
“I just want to make sure you understand me,” he says, more quietly now, but still forceful.
“I understand doc, and thank you, truly,” your voice is horse as you speak, still recovering from your screams. “Whatever you gave me is sure working a charm, the worst of the pain has subsided,” you remove your hand from his, and the doc heads over to the lit fireplace in your room, putting some grains in a pot over the fire.
“I’m making you a hot compress to place on your abdomen for added relief. I’m going to stay here with you until I’m sure the pain isn’t coming back, do you understand?” he watches you over top his glasses from the fireplace, looking you over once and seeing you nod before turning back to the fire. He think’s that you’ve taken his fancy, and you’ve certainly piqued his curiosity, but he doesn’t even know your name yet.
“My name’s (Y/N) by the way. Just thought I’d tell you seeing as we skipped pleasantries and all,” you say, as if reading his mind.
“Pleased to meet you Mrs (Y/N), I’m Doc Cochran,” he replies.
“Oh no it’s miss, not mrs, and I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what a pleasure it is to know you,” you correct him, sitting up slightly with a grunt. The doc comes back over to you, wrapping the warm grains in a piece of fabric and placing it on your stomach. You sigh a sigh of relief at the feeling of the heat touching your abdomen, closing your eyes for a moment. You never thought you’d be able to get this much relief from the pain that had been with you most of your life.
“What brings you to Deadwood Miss (Y/N)?” the doc asks you.
“Well I’m just passing through, tryin to get away from my father, the bastard… but I read people’s futures, and I figure what better place. I’m sure many men here will want to know whether death or fortune will come first for them,” you say slowly, still trying to recover from the receding pain. “I could read your fortune if you’d like doc, free of charge of course, I’m forever indebted to you.”
“I’m not sure I believe in such things,” he replies, sitting down again beside your bed, going through his bag. His demeanour is far less serious now. He’s warming up to you.
“Believing isn’t a prerequisite doc,” you say in jest, with a sweet smile. “Pass me that deck of cards on the table over yonder if you will,” you say, gesturing to the table near your bed, and the doc does as you say, placing the deck in your hands. “Now doctor, let’s see what’s in your future. It’s a bright one I already know it.”
The doc smiles at you, a small sort of standoffish smile, and you begin to shuffle your cards, closing your eyes. When you open your eyes the doc is staring intently at you, watching your every move. You go hot under his gaze again. You spread the cards out on your bed in front of you.
“Choose a few doc, as many as you’d like,” you say sweetly and close your eyes again, taking a deep breath as you try to will off the remainder of your pain. Your hand goes to your belly as you wince quietly.
“Are you okay?” the doc asks, and you nod. “No, you answer me properly. Are. You. Okay?” he repeats himself, forcefully this time.
“I trust I will be soon, and if I’m not I’ll let you know doc, I promise, now let me have a look at those cards,” he hands them to you, and you smile as you look over them. “Ace of cups, a new relationship is coming your way doc, and the devil, a happy card I assure you. It would seem that this new relationship is romantic, and pleasurable for both parties. Lucky duck,” you raise your eyebrows at him and he blushes slightly, smiling coyly at you. “Choose one more, it’ll be about who this new relationship is with,” he does as you say, and you examine his card for a moment. “The sun, someone young, someone warm, someone kind. You know anyone like that doc?”
“I might,” he replies, still staring at you.
“Lucky girl,” you comment quietly, then suddenly wince again. “D-doc, I feel... I’m gonna be sick!”
Before you can take another breath the doc has brought a bowl over to you. You throw up into it, eyes watering, hardly able to breathe, and the doc rubs your back with one hand whilst taking another tincture out of his bag with the other.
“Sorry, sorry,” you say between expulsions.
“Don’t be sorry! The drug obviously didn’t agree with you, my fault,” he tells you and helps you to sit back once you’re done being sick. The doc calls Farnum in to get rid of the bowl, and he tilts your head back, giving you another drug. “This should ease your pain and stop the sickness. Imma stay with you until I know you’re well.”
“No amount of money I pay you will be able to describe how grateful I am for you,” you tell him, and he smiles at you once more.
“Why don’t you just try to get to sleep now? I’ll leave once you’re out and come check on you tomorrow,” he says, laying a hand on your head to check your temperature before brushing some hair out of your face. You fall into a deep sleep almost instantly, finally relieved from the pain, and feeling safe in the docs presence.
In the morning when you wake you’re in disbelief at how good you feel, that is, compared to how you normally feel. The pain isn’t completely gone, but it’s better than it has been in a long time. After dressing and getting yourself looking decent you head downstairs, cane in hand, in search of food and coffee, which you find, albeit in a disappointing state. You sit at a table on your own, picking up a mug of coffee with a shaky hand - your body still hadn’t fully recovered from the horrendous night before. Merrick the newspaper man tries to talk to you some, and you indulge him but don’t invite him over to sit with you. Before long the doc walks in in a huff. He looks tense to you, almost like he hadn’t slept.
“You want some coffee doc?” you call out to him, and he turns to you, eyebrows furrowed. He nods towards you, greeting you before taking a seat across from you.
“You have a lot more colour in your cheeks today,” he comments, laying his bag and hat on the table, and you smile to him.
“Thanks for stopping by to check on me,” you say, taking a bite of your breakfast.
“Well I said I would, and I always stick to my word,” he says seriously.
“Yes well, not every man does, so I’m glad you’re here,” you say, your mood dropping. You look down, poking at your food. “I know I was the one who was poorly last night, but I have to say you don’t look too good yourself doc.”
“Let’s focus on you for the minute,” he replies, and you nod before heading upstairs to your room with the doc, leaning heavily on your cane. He once again helps you out of your dress, and you lie back on your bed as the doc feels around your abdomen again. You relish in his touch, suddenly realising how much you miss affection and physical touch. Travelling solo has taken its toll on you. “How are you feeling today?” he asks as he feels around.
“Better than last night, much better in fact, but still not very steady on my feet,” you reply, watching him closely.
“I...” the doc begins speaking as he rummages through his bag. “I shouldn’t have spoken so roughly toward you last night, and I owe you an apology for that miss (y/n).”
“Oh no doc, you owe me no such thing. I think I needed a good talking to, and I’m glad it was you who gave it to me,” you smile up at him, biting at your bottom lip for a moment. “Anyway, even when you’re yelling you’re still more mild mannered than any man I ever knew back home, and I have to thank you for that. You’re a good man doc, and I hope you know that.”
“Well,” the doc says in slight disbelief, and takes a deep breath, and you notice a smile on his face he’s trying to hide. You’ve finally succeeded at flattering the man. “I’m prescribing some raspberry leaf and mugwort to be steeped in some hot water. This will not elevate your leg pain, but should help with the cramping,” he hands you a jar with the herbs in it, then looks down, noticing the cane beside your bed. “That’s a mighty fine cane,” he comments, gesturing to it.
“Thank you doc, I made it myself. If there was one good thing my daddy did for me it was teaching me how to carve,” you say, and the doc thinks for a moment before speaking again.
“I wonder if I could commission you to carve a cane, not for my own use of course, but it is in a doctors interest to have a cane around incase a patient is ever in need of one.”
“It would be my honour to carve you a cane doc. I’ll make it real special for you,” you sit up with a hand from the doc, placing a leg underneath you as you sit. “Have the cards come to fruition yet?”
“Not yet,” he replies shortly. If he were to truly be honest with you he would have told you that he was up all night thinking about those cards, and thinking about you, and longing for you, that was the reason why he didn’t sleep, in combination with taking care of the sick reverend of course, but seeing as you’re a lady he would never say so.
“Well, there’s still time,” you reply, smiling coyly at the doctor, as he begins to pack up his bag.
“Well, if the pains come back try putting the heated grains on your stomach like I did last night, and if they persist send someone to see me, and I mean that,” he tells you firmly, and you nod. “I’ll buy the wood for the cane today, and you can come by later to pick it up if you’re feeling up to it.”
“I’ll be by later doc, and...” you reach over to the table beside your bed, picking up your purse. You pull out a few coins and place them in the docs hand. It’s more than you owe, but you don’t mind. “Thank you for all of your kindness. I truly am indebted to you.”
“It’s too much-“ the doc begins, but you hush him.
“Just take the money doc, it’s what I feel I owe you,” in a moment of what you might call bravery, or possibly simply an unignorable urge for affection, you lift his hand to your mouth, kissing it softly. “I’ll be by soon doc,” you say before he walks out, in a slight daze.
After dressing for the second time that day and spending some time reading your own cards you head downstairs again, and have the prescribed tea in the company of Merrick yet again. He seems like a lonely man, and you pity him slightly, and try to give him all your attention when you can, even giving him a reading for a modest sum. After your talk and the tea you head over to the docs, and knock before walking in, noticing him sitting beside a man who is lying down, looking poorly.
“Oh I’m sorry doc I’ll come back another time,” you say, going to walk out the door.
“No no, you stay, it’s okay. This is the reverend,” he introduces you as you walk over to the doc, but the man doesn’t seem to notice you at all. “He’s poorly, as I’m sure you can tell, and I’m looking after him until he passes.”
“It must be hard seeing so many sick people all the time,” you comment, sitting beside him. You notice a bowl of cold water with a towel in it and pick the towel up, placing it on the reverends forehead. “Doc, you take care of the reverend, and you take care of me, and... and you take care of everybody, but doc, who takes care of you?” you ask, eyebrows furrowed. The doc doesn’t have an answer, he just looks between you and the reverend for a few moments as he thinks. “Why don’t you let me take care of you for a little while? Or at least take care of the reverend whilst you get a little rest, god knows you look like you need it.”
“You’re not well (Y/N), I can’t let you do a job that-“ he begins, but you stop him.
“You should take your own advice and worry about yourself for a little, okay? You just tell me what I need to do and get some sleep, and if I need you I’ll wake you, I promise,” you say, then stand, ushering the doc over to his own bed. You help him undress this time, taking his glasses and coat, and placing them on the table beside his bed.
“Okay, but only for a few minutes,” he finally agrees. “The reverend might seize, and if he does just put that piece of wood over there,” he gestures to beside the reverend, “between his teeth and wait it out, and other than that just make sure he’s comfortable,” he instructs you. You nod in understanding, walking back over to the poorly man, and as soon as the docs head hits his pillow he’s asleep, and he stays asleep until the sun has gone down. You didn’t dare wake him. The doc shoots up from his bed, feeling dazed for a moment before getting his bearings. He looks over to you; you’re singing softly to the reverend, holding a bowl filled with his vomit in front of him. Oh how the tables have turned, you think to yourself. When the doc looks down in his bed he notices he’s hard, which isn’t exactly an incredibly common occurrence at this point in his life. He dreamed about you. The doc stands, putting his glasses on before walking over to you. He can deal with his hard on later.
“He only seized once,” you comment quietly, and the doc checks on the reverend before turning to you.
“You look tired, you’d better get to bed,” he says, staring right at you.
“If you still need help I’ll stay... i-if that’s okay with you doc. It’s a good distraction.”
“Distraction from what? From the pain? Has the pain come back?” he asks, sounding even more serious than he normally does now.
“It’s my back, because I’ve been sitting so long...” you pause for a moment, now suddenly holding back tears. Over the last few hours the pain had gotten worse and worse. “Don’t think I’ll be able to stand just yet doc, my hips are aching too, so I guess you’re stuck with me for a little while longer.”
“Sounds to me like you’ve got some nerve pain,” the doc pushes his glasses up, walking over to his wall of tinctures and bottles. “Your nerves would have been damaged from the persistent pain, there isn’t too much I can do about that,” he says absentmindedly, searching for a certain bottle, and as he does the reverend seizes again, and you put the wood between his teeth.
“It’s okay reverend, it’ll be okay soon,” you try to soothe him, and the doc walks back over to you, bottle in hand.
“I’m going to rub this on your hips and back, if you’ll allow me,” he explains, and you nod. The doc helps to lift you up enough to get your dress out from under you, and your panties pulled down, and your lack of mobility embarrass you for a moment, your face turning red.
“I’m sorry,” you find yourself saying, almost without thinking, and feel the doc’s sigh of frustration against the nape of your neck as he kneels behind you. You gather the skirt of your dress and underskirt up into your arms.
“You have nothing to apologise for so don’t be sorry,” he says, sounding almost angry, and certainly frustrated, for more than one reason. As much as he wants to keep his composure and remain professional, as he always is, as he begins to rub the ointment into the skin of your hips and lower back he can feel himself straying further and further from decorum, his appendage begging for relief. You moan softly at the feeling of his hands on your pain-ridden body, closing your eyes and sighing a sigh of relief. Your little sounds only send him closer to the edge of what he can handle.
“I can’t tell you how good this feels,” you say as the doc continues to massage your body. He finishes, closing the bottle as you put your dress back down and pull your panties back up, with the doc’s help.
“I’ll walk you back to your room, but I need to make a stop at the Gem first,” he tells you, and he helps you to stand, grabbing his bag as you grab your cane and the piece of wood he had bought for you. The two of you walk to the Gem in silence. You hadn’t been inside yet, but as you enter you’re brought aback by the noise of all the boisterous men, and by the smell of alcohol and cum and sweat. The doc seats you at the bar, and you rest your can and the wood against it. “The lady hasn’t eaten, get her some food, I’m pay,” the doc tells the bartender, who brings out some canned peaches and slightly stale bread from behind the bar before Cochran begins his ascent up the stairs.
“And some whiskey,” you add as you break off a piece of bread and eat it. “I’m (Y/N) by the way, I don’t think we’ve met,” you introduce yourself to the bartender as he pours you a shot.
“Dority,” he replies, and you shake his hand. Within moments you have three men swarming around you, trying to buy you drinks, but Dority helps to send them away, which you’re grateful for. When the doc comes back downstairs with who you know to be the owner of the Gem you can tell he’s fuming. He looks like he’s just been in an argument.
“And who is this lovely lady?” Al Swearengen asks, taking your hand in his and kissing it. You introduce yourself, a weary look on your face despite your forced smile. “Are you looking for a little money? Because there’s always room for another woman like yourself in this establishment.”
“I appreciate the offer Mr Swearengen, but-“ you begin to speak, but are interrupted by the doc.
“She don’t fucking want no job from you Al, just send someone over to get the reverend, and make sure you take good fucking care of him,” he says forcefully, throwing some coins down onto the bar before taking your hand. You down the rest of your whiskey and eat a final piece of peach before you walk out with the doc. “You okay?” he asks you, eyebrows furrowed as you walk with him to the inn.
“Nothing I can’t handle doc, but thank you anyway. You’re a true gentleman,” you reply, smiling softly to yourself. You’re starting to think the man really likes you, and he’s starting to think so too. When the two of you get to the stairs of the inn you turn to him.
“Come see me tomorrow evening so I can apply some more of that ointment,” he says, and you nod, pausing for a moment before leaning over and placing a kiss against his lips. You’re glad Farnum isn’t around to see it.
“Goodnight doc, I’ll start working on the cane tomorrow,” you say as you begin to slowly walk up the stairs of the inn, ready for a good nights sleep. The doc stands in the doorway for a few minutes, watching you arrive at your door before he begins to walk back to his home, smiling in a way he hadn’t since he was a young man. Those cards were beginning to come to fruition, he thinks to himself.
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Sometimes When I Get to Thinking part 2
4270 words
Part 2 is out! + I hope you all enjoy!
Warning: this one is full of smut :)
Let me know what you think, and thank you for reading!
Your third day in Deadwood you sleep late, eager to escape any pain you may feel when you wake, but the noise from the buffet downstairs wakes you before long; there was always someone having an argument with someone else. You’re beginning to think staying at the inn didn’t have an up side; sure you have a warm bed, as uncomfortable as it is, but having to deal with that insufferable Farnum, and the grotesque food, and those goddamn stairs was bound to send you over the edge sooner or later. At around noon you rise and get yourself ready like you do every day, dressing and putting your hair into a loose plait. Deadwood certainly lacked decorum, so you didn’t have to pay such special attention to your looks as you did in big cities or regular towns, where rumours of such aesthetic debauchery would spread like wild fire, but even in Deadwood you find yourself wanting to look your best... to look your best for the doc. You can’t wait to see him later in the evening, to feel his hands against your skin again. The previous night had almost been too much for you to handle, and you had to take care of your urges solo in your bed after saying goodbye to the doc for the night.
As you’re pulling your thigh high stockings up and clipping them onto your garter belt, right leg propped up on your bed, you hear a knock at your door.
“One moment!” you call out, but before you can even take your leg down from the bed Farnum stumbles into your room, leaving the door hanging wide open. “You slimy bastard,” you exclaim as he looks you over, eyes wide.
“It was an honest mistake miss, my hand just slipped, I swear,” he tries to explain, staring at your legs. You’re not sure whether to believe his excuse, and picking up your knife from your bedside table now, you step forward, pointing it at him.
“It’d be wise of you to leave my room now, and close the door on your goddamn way out,” you say firmly, and he does as you say, apologising profusely as he backs out of your room. If it wasn’t for the fact that Farnum’s inn was the only inn in the camp you’d have gotten out of there quick smart, but Farnum’s only saving grace, unfortunately for you, was that he did own the only inn in town, so at least for now you’re stuck there.
Heading downstairs with your cane and your cards you avoid the buffet, instead making your way to the Gem, in the hope that someone somewhere in Al’s establishment might have something remotely edible for you to consume. You take a seat at the bar, making yourself comfortable as Dority makes his way over to you.
“Same as yesterday, if you have it,” you say to him, sweet smile on your face. He brings you some fresh bread this time, and canned pears, then pours you a drink. “Between you and me, that Farnum... well I’d like to kill him, I swear to you I would,” you laugh lightly, more in disbelief at your own words than anything else, as you begin to eat.
“I’d do it for you, that is if I was allowed to,” Dority replies, far too seriously for your own comfort. Your eyes widen as you take a drink of your whisky.
“Oh no, I’m sure it wouldn’t come to that Dority, but I appreciate the sentiment. Think I just need to move out of the inn, sooner rather than later.”
You tell Dority about your cards, and to your surprise he’s more than eager for you to do a reading for him. It seems to you he’s anxious about the longevity of his future. As you’re shuffling your cards you hear a voice yelling from upstairs, and you quickly realise it’s that of Doc Cochran’s.
“Oh, get her name out of your goddamn mouth Al! And leave her the fuck alone!” he yells as Al’s office door swings open and he steps out.
“It seems the impenetrable doctor has finally gone sweet on someone. She obviously possesses something my whores don’t,” Al exclaims, laughing as they descend the stairs. You turn from your seat at the bar, laying eyes on the doc, wondering who they were talking about, and if it could be you. You couldn’t be sure either way. Almost as if against your will a smile appears on your face, and you wave to the man, who also smiles as he sees you, but goes back to his serious old self within seconds, sustaining his hard exterior.
“How’re you doc? Did you sleep w-“ you begin, but are interrupted.
“Come for your treatment tonight, don’t forget,” the doc tells you quickly, walking right past you and out of the Gem. You turn back to Dority, a sour look on your face. What could you possibly have done to warrant that kind of response from the doc, you wonder to yourself. Al walks up behind you, placing a hand on your left shoulder.
“It seems you have an admirer,” he comments through his sly scheming smile.
“Me?” you ask as you turn to him, eyebrows furrowed, your face reddening slightly. “I don’t mean any offence, but I hope to god it’s not you.”
“Me? No. You’re far too intellectual for my taste, dear,” Al replies, his tone taking a patronising turn. You continue to shuffle your cards, and the tower flies out of the deck, landing on the bar top. You pick it back up quickly and put all your cards back into their pouch, attaching it to your belt as you stand.
“Be careful Dority, the cards are telling you to watch your back. Make sure you’re weary and don’t get fucked over, because if you do it could end very very badly for you, and everyone involved,” you tell him, grabbing your cane. “I hope the reading covers the fee for the food, and thank you for your company Dority,” you say as you begin to walk out. “Goodbye Mr Swearengen,” you add.
“Goodbye, and enjoy your appointment with the doc,” Al calls out, teasing you. You huff as you walk back to the inn, and take any frustrations you have about the goddamn men in this goddamn town out on that piece of wood Doc Cochran has bought you the day before as you begin to carve it with the same knife you threatened Farnum with earlier. You’d considered leaving the discarded wood shavings on the floor of your room for Farnum to clean up himself, but seeing as you wanted him to harbour no ill will against you, out of fear of not knowing what he’s capable of, you decide against it, collecting the shavings in the previously vomit filled bowl in your room.
You spend most of the afternoon carving that cane, and the beginning of the evening with Merrick in his newly erected newspaper office. You’re happy to be in the presence of the mild mannered, if overbearing man, happy to hear him talk, just as he is happy to talk. It takes your mind off of other things momentarily, like the possibility that it was in fact the doc who was sweet on you, a possibility that in your mind was becoming more and more plausible. You pass a few hours with Merrick, sitting when your legs hurt and standing when your back hurts, an annoyingly constant cycle that, no matter what the treatment, you’ve never been able to put an end to. Sometimes, when the pain is real bad, you find yourself wishing that the inside pain would show on the outside, just so people will know, just so people will believe you. The curse of chronic pain, you think to yourself as you stand again, is the never knowing; never knowing what was going on inside your body, never knowing when whatever was causing the pain would become so irreversibly bad you’d die.
The pain growing in your legs brings you out of your deep thoughts and back into reality.
“Do you have the time, Mr Merrick?” you ask, suddenly noticing how dark it is outside.
“It has just turned 6pm,” Merrick replies, checking his watch.
“I’ve enjoyed my time with you immensely, but I have an appointment with Doc Cochran I must keep,” you say, walking to the door.
“Come by any time, it’s always a pleasure to converse with you, and if you don’t mind I’d like to interview you about your thoughts on our humble town next we meet,” he says as you walk out the door and down the dark street. You nod in acknowledgement and wave him goodbye, hoping he’s seen. When you make it to the docs door you have to take a moment to compose yourself. Sometimes even walking takes the wind out of you. Eventually you knock, and only hear a grunt in response.
“Doc?” you call, opening the door ajar and peeping in. You see him sitting on the end of his bed, leaning on his legs, bottle in hand, dressed only in pants, shirt and suspenders, his sleeves rolled up. “Are you unwell or just drunk?” you ask as you step in, walking over to him.
“Drunk,” he replies, word slightly slurred.
“Okay, well that’s good to know,” you say, sitting next to him on his bed and laying your cane on the floor. “I’m guessing you forgot about our appointment. If you’re not up to it I can come back tomorrow,” you suggest, and he shakes his head profusely, turning to you.
“I’m not that fucking drunk. How’s the pain today?” the doc stands, placing the bottle on a table before beginning to lift your skirt up. His abruptness startles you momentarily, but it also arouses you immensely. You imagine he’s eager to see under your clothes again, to touch you, and in truth he is, his inhibitions temporarily tempered by the booze.
“The pain still isn’t so good doc,” you reply, gathering your skirt up in your arms as he begins to pull down your panties. The excitement of your body is unignorable now, as a rush of warmth comes over you, your heat becoming slick. The doc notices instantly, looking to your naked pussy before looking to you, then back down again. Your breathing has noticeably quickened, as has his. “Who... who were you talking to Swearengen about today?” you ask, looking into his eyes, searching for an answer in them. He places a hand on your knee, kneeling down in front of you, and you open your legs ever so slightly. “If it was me, which I suspect it was, please don’t hesitate to tell me so.”
“It was,” he replies, looking up at you, letting his hand crawl up to your thigh. “I... I don’t mean to be crass (Y/N), but I’d like to go down on you,” he states, waiting for your reaction.
“I’d like that very much doc,” you reply, and reach down to him, caressing his face softly before running your fingers through his hair. The doc removes his glasses, placing them on the table with the bottle, and you lie back on the bed, spreading your legs further. With both hands he feels up both of your thighs, squeezing them softly and placing them over his shoulders as he positions his face between your legs.
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says, his face painfully close to your cunt. You can feel his breath on you, and you shudder, bracing yourself for the docs lovemaking. “And feel free to call me Amos when we’re alone, if you’d like,” he finishes speaking, beginning to lay soft wet kisses on your thigh, trailing them closer and closer to your slick heat until he’s kissing at your clitoris.
“O-okay Amos,” you say, biting down on your bottom lip. The doc is attentive in his lovemaking, and pleasures you just right. You think all those anatomy classes he must have taken sure have paid off. Reaching down you run your fingers through his curls again, arching your back slightly now. He’s slow, paying almost no mind to your climax, only to your present pleasure, but you’re sure he’ll get you there. Your soft breathy moans make him almost painfully hard, precum flooding his pants, and his grunts against your cunt send you closer and closer to your steadily approaching climax. With his hands he’s kneading at your ass and your hips, massaging them, ensuring that you’re comfortable in the position you’re currently occupying. The doc’s facial hair only adds to the stimulation, causing your legs to tense every now and then at the sensation of his coarse whiskers brushing over your thighs, your labia. He’s only been at it for a few minutes, but you’re losing control. Unable to hold off your climax any longer you take a fist of his hair in one hand, not pulling too tight, and a fist of his bed sheets in the other as your breath quickens even more. The doc reaches up, running a hand over your belly. He can feel how close you are and quickens his pace, matching it to the rhythm of your breath. He sucks at your clitoris harder, moving his tongue around in circles. His expert technique combined with the simple orgasmic thought of Doctor Cochran being between your legs, powerful and assertive in his mannerisms, and pleasuring you, sends you into an episode of utter and complete debauchery.
“Ohhhh fuck!” you cry out, moaning loud as you possibly can as your legs tense, lifting up from the docs shoulders against your will. Your back arches, your eyes squeeze shut, and your cunt clenches and pulses aggressively as the doc sucks you through your truly earth shattering orgasm. “Amos, Amos, Amos!” you moan between breaths, moving your hand from his hair, placing it around your neck and squeezing delicately. The doc watches you from his seated position between your legs, a satisfied smile on both of your faces. He leans back down, licking the remainder of your wetness from you as you thank him in a whisper over and over and over again, consumed by the sinful pleasure his mouth has brought you.
Just as your climax is beginning to die down you hear a knock at the docs door, and before either of you can call out Al Swearengen bursts in, the reverend’s lifeless body flung over his shoulder. The doc recoils and stands, and you pull the skirt of your dress down to cover yourself as you sit up.
“He passed,” Al says, carrying him in and giving both of you the once over. The doc walks over to him as Al drops the reverend onto the small bed he was occupying the day before. A smirk appears on his face as he begins to speak again. “You have cum on your face doc.”
The doc begins to wipe at his moustache with his hand. You stand and walk over to him, taking a handkerchief out of your pocket, using it to wipe him off, laughing lightly to yourself, and once he’s clean again you lay a kiss on his lips, which he leans into.
“I guess congratulations are in order,” Al comments, walking to the door.
“Wait Mr Swearengen, before you leave, I’m guessing you have Farnum under your thumb,” you say.
“You’ve very observant,” he says, weary of what you’ll say next.
“Well then, I’m also guessing you asked him to check me out, to find things out about me, and before you answer let me just say that firstly, if you want to know anything about me, you can just ask, I’m not one to lie... and secondly, the method Farnum used to check me out was to burst into my room uninvited whilst I was dressing this morning.”
“He fucking did what?!” Doc Cochran snaps, taking another drink from his bottle. You lay a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him.
“All I’m asking, Mr Swearengen, is that you reel him in a little,” you finish, and Al nods to you, flashing you a genuine smile, before walking out of the docs residence, closing the door behind him.
“If I hadn’t sworn an oath to heal and care for people I swear I’d teach that E.B a lesson,” the doc tells you, turning to you.
“And if you did teach him a lesson, you wouldn’t be the man I think you are Amos. Men I can usually handle myself, I’ve had plenty of practice,” you say, smiling to him. “I have to thank you for the care you’ve taken with me... a-and for the pleasure you’ve brought me. I’m more than glad my reading came true,” you tell him, sitting on his bed again, stretching your legs out in front of you and massaging them with your hands. The doc fetches the ointment and sits next to you on the bed, taking both your legs in his lap, unbuckling and pulling down your stockings.
“It has been documented that a woman’s orgasm can actually help to alleviate pain associated with her moons, ovulation, and things of the sort,” he tells you as be begins to rub the ointment into your legs. A palpable excitement rises in him as he speaks, and despite the stress of it all you can suddenly tell how much he enjoys being a doctor.
“You need to learn to take a fucking compliment doc,” you say, a large smile on your face now.
“It was my pleasure to pleasure you,” he tells you, voice quiet and intimate. Your cheeks flush.
“So you weren’t simply pleasuring me to alleviate pain associated with my ailment?” you ask, looking down into your lap now. You’re searching for some sort of sign he likes you in a way beyond the affection between a doctor and a patient, beyond that of a quick fuck.
“In all honesty,” he says, taking a deep breath. “Your ailment was not at the front of my mind when I asked to pleasure you... and although we have only known one another for a matter of days I find that I’ve taken a liking to you, and I find that I have the desire to be around you whenever I can manage it.”
“I’m happy to hear you say so Amos, very happy actually... ecstatic,” you say, looking to him again. “You’re a spectacular man, if you don’t mind me saying so, and a wonderfully attentive doctor.”
“If I were what you say I am you wouldn’t be sitting beside me now in the pain I know you’re in.”
You smile to him, in a sort of empathetic way.
“Amos, no one is expecting you to perform any miracles. I feel better than I did the first day we met, and that’s all due to you... what say you to retiring to my room for the night? Because, to be completely honest with you, the reverend being here with us is unnerving me slightly, and I’d like to repay you for the lovemaking you gave me, if you’d like that also.”
You make eyes at the bulge in his pants, making it obvious to the doc that you’ve noticed how aroused he is.
“I will happily agree to that,” the doc says, standing. He gets sort of shy when you flatter him, or talk about lovemaking with him, but you think his mildness is mighty becoming on him. It shows you that your words aren’t just words, that they really mean something to him. “If you agree to take your meals with me from now on, here, so you won’t have to frequent places like the Gem for a decent meal anymore.”
You roll your stockings back up as he speaks, and fix your hair slightly, so as to make your roll in the hay slightly less evident.
“I will happily agree to that also,” you reply, standing and grabbing your cane. He takes his doctors bag in hand, as if by habit, and you pick up his bottle. The two of you walk down the darkened street to Farnum’s inn, and once again you’re happy to see he’s not around. The doc walk with you up the stairs to your room, slowly, helping you when you need it. As soon as you’re inside and the door is closed you begin to undress for him, unlacing your dress and letting it fall to the floor, leaving you standing in front of him in your undergarments. Doc Cochran sits on your bed, beginning to undress himself as he watches you, taking off his suspenders, unbuttoning his shirt. You lay your cane on the floor beside you, then untie your corset and pull off your chamise. Your breasts are bare now, and the doc is encapsulated by them. You sit on his lap, straddling him, and begin to kiss him hard. His hands wander up to your breasts.
“And here I was thinking the female breast had lost all allure to me years ago. I guess I stand corrected,” he states, smiling stupidly after you pull away from his lips, the pair of you slightly breathless. Before long the two of you enter into a session of long passionate lovemaking, with the doc on top, pounding into you, beads of sweat gathering at his brow from the sheer power of it all. It ends, after an orgasm even greater than your first, with you lying naked atop the sheets, his cum inside of you, and the doc sitting on a chair beside the bed, also naked, with a pencil and notepad in hand that he had taken from his medical bag.
“You’re beautiful,” you say to him, absentmindedly. “What’re you doing?”
“I’m drawing you. I want to be able to remember you like this always,” he tells you as he begins to draw, highly concentrated. You take a swig from his bottle and pass it back to him.
“Where’d you learn to draw?” you ask, smiling to him as you look him over sultrily.
“My anatomy classes when I was in medical school,” he replies, also taking a drink. He looks from his notepad to you, pausing for a moment before speaking again. “You’re perfect (Y/N),” he says, with such a serious tone that you know he really means it. You stand, walk over to him and sit on his lap, kissing him again. His eyebrows furrow as he kisses back intensely. “Okay okay that’s enough of that,” he says after you pull away, acting serious again. “Lie back down on the bed so I can finish drawing you.”
You do as he says, still smiling at him. You realise suddenly that you haven’t been this happy, this content, in an incredibly long time. Something about the doc just lights you up inside, in a way you’d never experienced before.
“Maybe you should ask Merrick in here to take my picture,” you tease with a wink.
“He’d have a coronary, and that’s not something I feel like dealing with,” he replies, serious as ever. The two of you spend the rest of the night in bed talking. He loves to ramble on about medicine and the various fascinating diseases of the human body, and to his surprise you love to listen. He asks you about your life before coming to Deadwood, and you tell him a little about your less than ideal life with your father, but you mostly talk about your education, which he finds fascinating. After that he tells you about his life as a doctor during the civil war, and his stories almost make you cry. When dusk breaks, neither of you having slept a wink, you both decide now would be the ideal time to sneak back to the docs place for breakfast. He helps you to dress, and you help him to dress, and before long you’re walking down the stairs of the inn.
“Doc Cochran, I didn’t see you come in,” Farnum says, suddenly appearing like a phantom out of the shadows in the lobby of the inn.
“Well I think we can all agree you could do with being slightly more observant,” the doc retorts, and you giggle softly at his remark. Farnum is left stunned as you walk out, arm in arm. You’re spotted by Al on the way to the docs place. Al is looking down on the town from his balcony.
“I wonder if Swearengen will be able to keep his mouth shut about us,” you say to the doc as you spot him.
“If it won’t benefit him in some way to have people know about our relationship I’m sure he’ll stay quiet,” he replies, gazing up to Al with a warning look.
“I hope you understand when I say I’d like people not to know for now. When men find out a girl is making love to a man because she enjoys it, and not for money, they suddenly feel like they can do whatever they want to her,” you say, worried look on your face as you walk into his abode again.
“Of course I understand,” he says, patting your face gently before kissing you again. “We can let people know when we’re both good and ready, let’s just focus on getting some food and coffee into you now before I have to start doing my rounds.”
#deadwood#deadwood fic#deadwood fanfic#deadwood fanfiction#doctor cochran#doc cochran#doctor amos cochran#doc cochran fanfic#doc cochran fic#doc cochran x reader#doc cochran fanfiction#doctor cochran fanfic#doctor cochran fic#doctor cochran x reader#doctor cochran fanfiction#brad dourif#brad dourif fanfic#brad dourif fic#brad dourif fanfiction#brad dourif x reader
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Sometimes When I Get to Thinking pt 5
5600 words
cw: talk of pregnancy, miscarriage, brief abelist language and MAJOR season 3 spoilers!
Surprise! A new chapter! Really this is half a chapter but it was too long to post. I wrote this months ago along with many other versions and I just couldn’t settle on one, but I’m happy with this so here it is. Please enjoy!
Part 6 will be coming soon!
You and the doc had experienced two months of blissful, wonderfully uneventful marriage... that is until the doc develops a cough he can’t shake. Worry can’t describe what you feel the first night he wakes you from your sleep, sitting on the edge of your bed, coughing until he coughs up blood. The man always feigns wellness until he can’t anymore, and only on this night do you learn that he has been stepping outside of the house to cough whilst you’re sleeping, for a whole week, so as not to disturb or worry you. This sickness has been going on for a month now, and every day his condition fluctuates, but he never seems to get much better.
“Oh fuck,” you say, rushing over to the doc as he has another coughing fit. He’s been getting ready for his rounds at the Gem, but with his cough worsening, and his worry that he’ll spread his disease to others, you don’t think that’s such a good idea. “You fucking stay there, I’m gonna boil some water and put some fucking mint oil in it to clear your airways. Goddammit Amos!”
You can feel yourself becoming increasingly emotional as you put some water in a pot on the stove to boil. Tears prick at your eyes as you go back over to your partner, patting his back. He’s trying to wave you away, but you’re not listening. You’re afraid the disease will take him, you’re just so fucking afraid. The doc struggles to speak before expelling some liquid and blood from his mouth into his hands. You bring a bucket over and begin to clean his hands with water and a rag.
“I need to do my rounds,” he says, trying to suppress the coughing.
“I’m not fucking letting you Amos. There is no goddamn way I’m letting you go out in this state!” you rush over to the now boiled water, pour some of the aforementioned mint oil into it, bringing it back to the doc in a bowl cozy to keep it from burning either one of you. “I’ll fucking go for you, okay? You- you write down what I fucking need to do and I’ll do it,” you tell him, passing him his notepad and a pen. He just shakes his head, unable to speak. “Goddamn you Amos! Just let me do this one fucking thing for you so you can get some goddamn rest!” you yell, tears falling, but you wipe them away quickly before he can see. He begins to write, conceding your plan, and you’re infinitely grateful that he does. “I’ll take good care of those girls, don’t you worry, and if I need your help I’ll send Johnny over and you can tell him what to do...” you watch him as he writes, his face reddening as he tries to hold in his coughs. “Jesus Amos, I’m so worried for you,” you tell him, stroking his hair softly. He looks up to you and hands you his notepad, then waves his hand, telling you to go.
“I’ll be okay, don’t you worry,” he rasps. You grab his medical bag and your cane and walk to the door of your home, turning back to him.
“Don’t you fucking move from where you are, you hear me? Try to get some sleep before I get back,” you say firmly, and you go to walk out the door when you hear the docs voice again.
“Honey?” he calls between coughs.
“Yeah?” you reply, turning back to him again.
“I love you,” he tells you, and you rush back over to him. Taking his poor reddened face in your hands you kiss his forehead.
“Oh god, I love you too Amos, please, just get better,” you beg, after which you leave your residence for the Gem Saloon. Entering you’re greeted by Al addressing you from on high.
“For the sake of my whores I’m going to assume the doc is trailing somewhere behind you,” he says as he begins to descend the stairs.
“Your whores are stuck with me today Al, the doc isn’t well,” you reply, deadpan. You aren’t in the mood for Al’s linguistic games. “Take me or leave me. I could always leave Dan to tend to them like he used to.”
“No no, you’ll do fine, this way,” he replies, sensing your agitation, and leads you to the whores common room. You see to them, one by one, giving them ointments, or replenishing their dope supply, or treating festering wounds due to their dope habits.
“You say you think you’re pregnant?” you ask one of them, sitting on the floor between her legs. She nods in reply. “Well are you or fucking ain’t you? And if you truly don’t know can it wait another week or two till the doc can see you?”
“It can wait,” she replies, and you nod, turning to Al who is watching on from the doorway.
“Can you stop casting a shadow over me and help me the fuck up Al?” you ask, and Al walks over to you so slowly you almost try to get up yourself, even knowing you won’t be able to hack it. When he does get over to you he gives you a hand up. “Thank you! Jesus!” you tell him, brushing your skirt off before taking the docs medical bag in hand again. “Anyone else need anything before I leave?” you ask the girls, but none speak up. “Okay, good, and Al, split the twenty dollars you owe me between the girls.”
“Okay,” he replies.
“And make sure you fucking do it because I’ll goddamn find out if you don’t.”
“Jesus, you’re all fucking attitude today. Aren’t I an honest man? Don’t you trust me to keep my word?” he asks, shit eating grin on his face.
“No Al, I fucking don’t. I’ll be off now, and don’t you call on the doc for nothing. He needs his rest.”
Outside the gem, on your walk home, you feel tears begin to prick your eyes. You curse the air at your unpredictable emotions, and as you turn the corner to the next street you’re greeted by Charlie Utter. You can see concern turn on his face when he notices your tears. You think about running to avoid the interrogation you know is about to unfurl, but quickly realise what a ridiculous thought that is; you couldn’t run even if you wanted to.
“I can’t help noticing you just came from the Gem,” he comments. “Is it Al who has you in your current state?”
“No, it ain’t Al, although being around him certainly didn’t help the situation,” you reply, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. “Don’t go spreading this around, but the doc isn’t well,” you tell him, and Charlie takes his medical bag off your hands as you begin to walk again.
“I’m sure sorry to hear that. Is his condition improving at all?” he asks, and you look over to him, tears falling. You can’t bring yourself to answer. You can’t get a single word out. “That’s rude of me, forget I asked,” he adds as you come to your house. You suddenly feel a wave of nausea come over you, and turn away from your friend, leaning over and throwing up into the dirt. Charlie looks away, so as to be polite. You breathe heavy as you stand straight again, wiping your eyes.
“I’m sorry, I should go, a-and don’t tell the doc about this if you see him, it’ll just worry him,” you say, taking the medical bag back.
“Of course, and I hope you both get better quickly,” he replies as you walk into your house.
“Thank you Charlie, and thank you for accompanying me on my walk, I appreciate it.”
Inside your home the doc is lying in bed on his side, eyes closed. You’d like to assume he’s asleep, although with him being such a light sleeper on account of being woken all hours of the night due to medial emergencies you’re hardly sure if he’s sleeping or not. You retire to the kitchen, slouching into one of the dining chairs, throwing your head back and closing your eyes. A few moments later you hear the unmistakable steps of your husband slowly moving towards you. You open your eyes, viewing him upside-down, and he smiles at you, a sort of sad smile.
“I didn’t wake you did I?” you ask, sitting up straight once again.
“No, I didn’t even hear you come in,” he replies, sitting beside you, his voice raspy and weak from coughing. He places a hand on your thigh, looking over to you. “You’ve been crying,” he comments. You stand suddenly, making your way over to your pantry.
“How does a sandwich for lunch sound?” you ask, changing the subject.
“I was thinking, it might be best if I move back to my old bed in the cabin until I shake this cough,” he tells you, trying to sound as delicate as possible. You’re feeling so out of sorts news like this could have knocked you down to your knees, but you stay strong, your grip of the pantry door handle tightening.
“I don’t want you to sleep alone,” you reply, turning to him, a half loaf of bread in your hand.
“Well I don’t want to get you sick,” he tells you seriously.
“So you’re conceding that what you have is more than a chest cold then?” you ask as you begin to slice the bread, taking your anger out on it as you saw back and forth aggressively.
“I’m doing no such thing,” he replies, rising to help you with the meal.
“It doesn’t take a doctor to see that you’re a fucking lunger Amos!” you yell suddenly, holding back tears again. Your grip on the bread and the knife tighten, as if against your own will.
“All the more reason for me to sleep away from you if that’s what you’ve decided I have!” he tells you, matching your anger, and your stubbornness. You stare at him for a moment before heading to the door.
“I’m going to pick some fucking tomatoes from our garden,” you announce, voice rather quiet, and step out of your house, slamming the door behind you. You bend over amongst the dirt and vegetables, picking a few tomatoes, as you said you would, and as you stand straight again, which takes you a lot more effort than you care to admit, you feel another bout of nausea come over you, and lean over to vomit once more, avoiding your growing veggies. You take a moment to recover and a bite of one of the tomatoes to mask the smell of the vomit before walking back inside. The doc is having another coughing fit, and you go over to him to try to help but he shoos you away. You know he’s just trying to protect you, but his actions cut deep. You make him his lunch as you wait for him to recover, and place it in front of him once he’s able to breathe again.
“What about you?” he asks, and you sit down beside him once again.
“Lost my appetite,” you reply, staring into his eyes. You’re trying to hide how afraid you are for him, but he can see the fear on your face. He takes your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“How’d you fair at the Gem?” he asks, changing the subject for your sake.
“Al is a pain in my fucking neck, as always, but besides that I think you trained me well,” you reply, forcing a smile. “Your colour looks slightly better than it did earlier, slightly less red, and slightly less pale,” you say as he begins to eat.
“Your colour doesn’t look so good now. You don’t feel sick do you?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed, and lays the back of his hand on your forehead, checking your temperature.
“I feel fine Doctor Cochran,” you reply, and he stands.
“I think it’ll be best if I eat this in my cabin. We should try to keep away from each other as much as possible,” he tells you, taking his plate and walking into his old abode. You know these precautions are for the best, but you can’t help noticing that same overwhelming feeling of loneliness you knew so well before you met him.
“Why don’t we just start sending each other fucking telegrams then,” you mumble quietly to yourself, slamming your hand onto the table. You begin to cry again. “Fuck! These fucking hormones!” you exclaim, and the doc hears from his far off location. Neither of you are happy about the situation, but at the end of the day you trust the docs judgement... you have to. Later, in the evening, you hear some incessant knocking coming from the docs cabin, and wrap a shawl around you to keep yourself warm before walking towards the knocking, choosing the outside route from your house to the door instead of the adjoining door that would have taken you straight to the cabin. Johnny is there, and the doc is at the door, trying to shoo him away.
“He’s fucking sick Johnny, what is it?” you ask, looking to your husband. He’s red in the face, and looks like he can hardly breathe. A deep feeling of dread begins to well in the pit your belly. You can’t stand to think about the discomfort he must be in, and you realise this is exactly how he must feel seeing you in your pain.
“Al’s holding a meeting with the town elders,” Johnny explains over top of the docs coughing. The doc gives you a concerned look before closing the door.
“I’ll go in his place Johnny.”
“You?” he asks, seeming mighty surprised.
“Yes me. Didn’t Al tell you I’ve been filling in for the doc?” you ask.
“Yeah but-“ Johnny begins, and you interrupt him.
“Well come on then, let’s go.”
As you walk to the Gem Johnny turns to you.
“I hope he gets better soon,” he says, his good wishes directed more to you and your mood than to the doc himself.
“I appreciate you saying so Johnny, I really really do,” you reply, giving his arm an affectionate squeeze as you enter the Gem. All the men already seated around the table turn and stare at you, but you’re used to stares and pay it no mind... that is until Al speaks up.
“Where’s the fucking doc?” he asks.
“He ain’t well,” Johnny explains.
“I’m taking his place. From now on the doc is to be called on in emergencies only,” you say as you too take a seat around the table. “And don’t censor yourselves on my account gentlemen. I’m sure I can swear just as fucking good as any of you can.”
“That fucking bad huh?... well this is slightly unorthodox, but alright,” Al replies, giving you far less shit than you expected, and he begins the meeting. “All being effected, we might consider some facts as a group...”
The men begin a rather fiery discussion about Hearst, a man who had gotten under everyones skin and evidently threatens the livelihood of everyone in the camp, but only now do you realise how dire of a situation it is. People are being murdered left right and centre, by Hearst’s men it seems. The doc being a one of the only neutral men in camp keeps the both of you at a distance from most of the turmoil, at least the turmoil that the doc can’t help with, but not anymore. Everyone at the table is in agreement that something must be done, and sooner rather than later. When the meeting is over and all the men leave you stay seated, deep in thought over the meetings proceedings, and other things.
“You need a hand up?” Al asks eventually, walking over to you with a smirk, teasing you.
“That’s not why I linger,” you reply, looking up to him. Al notices in the candlelight that your eyes are glazed and teary.
“Come up to my office, we’ll have some more privacy there. You never know who the fuck’ll walk in here,” he comments, and you both walk to the stairs, but you stay on the ground floor as he begins to ascend.
“Will you fucking help me Al? I’m liable to fall if you don’t,” you ask in a huff as tears begin to fall. Al links your free arm with his and you both walk slowly up the stairs, eventually finding your way into his office. You sit at his desk across from him, undoing the top few clasps of your corset, sighing with relief as you do.
“You got... something wrong with your legs?” he asks, and you can tell by his cadence that he’s genuinely curious, and not bullshitting you.
“With my legs, and my hips and back and belly, and my fucking cunt. Pain. That’s what’s wrong,” you reply, fanning yourself with your hand. Al pours himself and you a drink, a slight look of disgust on his face as you speak, not directed at you though. He cringes to think of the pain you must be in, and pushes the glass towards you.
“I can’t,” you tell him, and he downs his drink as you push the glass back towards him. You’ve begun to calm down now, your breath and your tears slowing.
“Sure I can’t tempt you?” he asks.
“I think I’m fucking pregnant,” you blurt out before your brain can even register what you’re saying. “So don’t tempt me because I want nothing more than to drink right now.”
“Well congratulations,” Al says, raising the glass he had offered you before drinking from it.
“Don’t congratulate me yet, because I mightn’t be in a few months.”
“Generally that is how pregnancy works,” he replies.
“I don’t mean like that,” you reply.
“The pain,” he comments, understanding.
“The pain is generally an indication of complications when it comes to all aspects of being with child, so I’m not hopeful,” you admit. “And don’t you go telling Amos! Because if he hasn’t figured it out yet I don’t want my current situation to add to his worry!”
“What’s said in here stays in here, if that makes you feel any better,” he informs you.
“It does,” you reply, looking out through his balcony. You can feel your hands begin to shake, from worry, from anxiety. “He’s real sick Al. He’s moved back to his cabin, and I’m more scared than I think I’ve ever been.”
In his cabin your husband is doing exactly what you said you’d like to be doing, drinking. On his knees, kneeling on the hard wooden floor, he begins to pray, which is something you’d never known him to do, neither of you being particularly religious (although the doc likes to think of himself as something of a theologist, unofficially that is).
“If I was a more adaptable primate, or one of your regular partitioners, I suspect I wouldn’t have this sickness, I wouldn’t have this couch that worries both my wife and myself so much. Jesus! Jesus Christ! For the love of all that is good, and for the sake of the people in this town that rely on me, and for my wife’s sake, not my own, a... and for the sake the child I suspect lies in my wife’s womb, whom I hold so dear, and whom I fear would not recover from my death, do not take me now! Please! Let me live, and let me recover from this cough, this disease, and let me see to the people in this town! Admitting my understandings imperfection, trusting that you have a purpose, praying that you consider it served, I beg you to relent. Thy will be done, amen.”
After some more conversation, and mostly ranting on your part, and a little more crying you leave the Gem. As you walk past the threshold you see your husband walking back to your home.
“Amos!” you call out, a large smile from the joy at seeing him appearing on your face for a moment before once again being consumed by grief. When Al sees him from his balcony he calls down to him quite aggressively. The priest like characteristics he had possessed with you just moments ago have seemingly all disappeared. You wait in a seat by the door as the two converse in Al’s office, bouncing your leg nervously.
“Fucking sick your wife tells me,” Al begins.
“I have a chest cold,” the doc answers, again feigning wellness.
“You’re a lunger doc. I know it, (Y/N) knows it, everyone fucking knows it.”
“I’ve believed for the last dozen years that disease is airborne, and I won’t make other sick!” the doc explains, suppressing his coughs, placing a handkerchief over his mouth.
“No one gets out alive doc,” Al says, rather grimly. “And for the sake of that wife of yours you’d better. She’s fucking falling apart.”
The doc stands, leaving Al’s office, and walks down the stairs, but stops in his tracks as Al dresses him from atop the stairs, voice booming. You turn and stand as you hear the yelling, face turning red at Al’s words, and the doc coughs through his speech.
“Jesus Christ! The fucking gimp finds something useful to do in the fucking brace you made her!” he says, throwing fabrics down onto your husband. You walk over to him, breath quickening. “Pick a fucking swatch for a spit rag, use the other for masks and go about your fucking business! I ain’t learning a new docs quirks!”
Once Al slams his door you go to collecting the fabric swatches with the doc, and promptly walk out, feeling tears flood your eyes again for the umpteenth time that day.
“That’s just Al trying to show he cares about you,” you say, and despite you trying to excuse Al’s words you’re upset with him beyond belief. You try to keep up with your husband, who has never walked ahead of you once since you’d met him, but in a bid to keep as far away from you as possible, he is walking ahead of you tonight. As you reach your house he tries to speak, but you shush him. “Just get better Amos. I love you, please just get fucking better.”
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Over the next week the docs condition becomes increasingly better, having gone through the worst of his illness, and a week after this, to your and his relief, the doc declares himself disease free and well again (save a lingering but fairly harmless cough that comes and goes). To your infinite delight, he is finally able to touch you again. In your kitchen he wraps his arms around you, holding you firmer than you think he ever has before. You bury your face into his chest, breathing in the familiar and well missed scent of him.
“I missed this,” you mumble into his chest.
“What?” he asks, a laugh of delight at your current situation escaping his lips. You move your head to look up at him, and he lays a kiss on the tip of your nose.
“I missed this Amos,” you repeat. After another minute of just holding each other the doc feels down to your ass, taking hold of you there, and lifts you up to sit on your dining room table.
“May I examine you now?” he asks, taking your hands in his.
“Examine me?” you ask, bringing his hands up to your mouth, kissing the back of them.
“Don’t feign ignorance, you know what I mean,” he tells you, taking off his jacket and folding it. He hands it to you, and you lie back on the table, placing it under your head as he rolls up his sleeves.
“Two months since I bled,” you tell him, looking up at the ceiling. He helps you to get your bloomers off, then he moves your legs up onto the table and eases them apart gently.
“And I noticed you’ve been sick in the mornings,” he comments as he begins to examine you, feeling around your abdomen.
“I’m fucking scared and I don’t even know what you’re feeling for,” you say, and laugh nervously. He sits and goes to looking between your legs, feeling around a little, in a less than pleasant way.
“There ain’t nothing to worry about. Any other new symptoms?”
“My tits have been fucking sore, and I’m sure you can tell they’re getting to be ginormous... and I’ve been getting this pulling sensation in my belly,” you reply and reach down, taking the docs free hand even though he’d still be needing it. He examines you for a few moments longer before poking his head back up, standing, and helping you to sit up again, wiping his hands off on a damp towel.
“Well, you’re with child, ain’t no doubt about it,” he reveals, sitting down again and laying his hands on your thighs for you to take, which you do. “I’ll be keeping a close eye on you, monitoring how you get along.”
“What do you think the chances are? Of me carrying to term I mean,” you ask.
“I can’t say, but we have to prepare ourselves for the possibility of a miscarriage,” he explains.
“And the chance I’ll die?”
“No chance, as long as you report every symptom to me and we catch potential signs of anything harmful early on.”
“And... how do you feel about the very real possibility of becoming a father?” you finally ask, a small smile now creeping onto your face. The shyness and coyness your husband possesses becomes evident now as he prepares to answer, his eyes darting to the floor as a smile appears on his face also. You move from your position on the table, sitting in his lap for the first time in what feels like aeons. You take his face in your hands, lifting it up to meet yours, and you kiss him softly.
“I am pleased to know I’m not shooting blanks. As a man of my vintage I could never be sure before... I’d say I feel moved by the prospect,” he replies as you move your hands to his. “Besides the pregnancy how do you feel overall? And don’t spare me the details out of fear of worrying me.”
“You know me well Amos,” you tell him. “I do often need encouragement to express my feelings... I’d say my black bile is in its ascendence, a-and I feel a tightness in my chest most days, an anxious tightness, not anything else, and sometimes I can’t tell if it’s worry I feel in my tummy or if I’m going to throw up,” you let out a brief nervous laugh. “I... I fear my body may have already made up its mind about how my pregnancy will end.”
“Well, I urge you not to catastrophise the situation, but if that is the case, we’ll deal with it, and I’ll take good care of you, and a few months down the line, or maybe a year, if you want to we can try again,” he says, his tone delicate, and his eyes filled with love for you. You nod to him in reply.
“I ran into Mrs Bullock whilst collecting supplies yesterday,” you say, changing the subject. “She’d like to know if you’d be willing to give the children she teaches a lesson or two about medicine, and how the human body works. I told her I’d ask you, but I also told her I didn’t think you’d say no.”
“I’d be happy to, but only if you assist me,” he replies, smiling to you.
“It would be my honour Amos. Those kids are gonna love you, I hear they loved Jane too. I can’t tell you how relieved I am you’re well again, I... I simply can’t put it into words, but I realise now how you must feel worrying for me. My dear husband, I’m just so glad you’re well.”
There’s a sudden knock at your front door, and you rise to answer it, fixing yourself before opening the door. You’re greeted by Farnum, unfortunately, and a wealthy looking stranger.
“One of you sick?” you ask, and the doc comes to stand beside you. He places a comforting hand on your shoulder as you both wait for an answer.
“I’m Mr Gale, I sent you a telegram a few months back,” the stranger replies.
“Oh, Mr Gale! I’d just about given up on you coming to Deadwood. Please, come in,” you say courteously, and both men try to step into your house. “Not you Farnum,” you tell him bluntly, closing the door in his face. “Coffee, Mr Gale? It’s fresh,” you ask as Amos offers him a seat.
“Thank you, Mrs Cochran. I’d like to get straight to business if that’s alright with you.”
“Please,” you implore him. “I’m eager to hear what you have to say, we both are,” you pour the man a cup before sitting beside your husband, and lay a hand in his lap, which he takes.
“In short ma’am, your father had no will as he had no money until his wife died about a month before he. You stand to inherit, as I said in the telegram, four million dollars.”
“Did his wife have other family?” Amos asks.
“She did, and the four million I spoke of is merely a fraction of her worth.”
“So the rest of her family has already been looked after then? All of them?” you ask.
“Yes, all of them. All we need to do now is transfer the money into your name, and the bank I represent will be able to send money to you, here, periodically, as you need it,” he finishes.
“It’s that simple, huh?” you ask in slight disbelief, and Mr Gale nods as he drinks his coffee. “Did you know my father?”
“I had the displeasure of meeting him once, if you don’t mind my saying so,” he replies, and his words make both you and Amos smile with amusement.
“We don’t mind at all,” Amos tells him.
“Well if you knew him, you’ll understand why I’m slightly hesitant about taking his money. I left home for a good reason, and now to have this-“ Mr Gale interrupts your monologue.
“I also knew his wife, for much longer than I knew your father, and I’m sure you having her money would be exactly what she wanted. She wanted it shared, and she wanted good people taken care of, and although I’m a stranger the two of you strike me as awfully good people,” he tells the two of you, and you turn to the doc, looking up to him as you squeeze his hand affectionately.
“Well, Mr Gale, you’re mighty convincing. As long as Amos agrees it would be my honour to inherit this money,” you reply, and Amos nods to the man.
“I agree wholeheartedly.”
“We can get you new equipment if you want it, and new medicine Amos, and build a camp infirmary if you’d like that. We can do good for the camp with this money,” you say quietly to him as Mr Gale rummages through his bag, plucking out some legal papers and a pen.
“Trust you to think of the camp and me before yourself,” he replies, smiling adoringly to you.
“I have all I could ask for because I have you,” you whisper into his ear. You kiss his cheek, and Mr Gale turns away to allay any embarrassment on either of your parts.
“If I could just get you to sign a few documents Mrs Cochran, and you as well doctor, as witness,” he explains, and you both do as he says. The whole situation is far less ceremonial than you had expected, and faster too. You now have four million dollars to your name, and you feel no different, but maybe that’s for the better. “I’ll send a telegram to my bank, get the first payment on its way to you before nightfall.”
“We’d offer to lay you up here if we had a spare room that wasn’t being used as a doctors office,” the doc tells him as you all stand.
“I wouldn’t dream of being such an inconvenience,” he replies, walking to the door.
“Will you at least come to dinner tonight? It would be our honour to have you,” you offer, and Mr Gale nods, putting his hat back on as he readies to leave.
“Thank you for the invitation, I graciously accept.”
“I’m glad of it. See you tonight Mr Gale... I like him,” you say to Amos once your guest has left. “Any man who dislikes my father is mighty fine in my book.”
“He does seem like a fine man,” he replies, watching him walk down the street.
“And Amos, I want to make certain you know that this money is as much mine as it is yours, and I hope you do whatever you see fit with it.”
“Why don’t we take a turn around town? I’m sure some walking will do us both some good,” he says, ignoring your statement.
“I’m sure I can think of another activity that would bring us both just as much pleasure,” you say suggestively, lying back on your dining table once again.
#deadwood#deadwood fanfic#deadwood fic#deadwood fanfiction#doctor cochran#doc cochran#doctor amos cochran#doc cochran fanfic#doc cochran fic#doc cochran x reader#doc cochran fanfiction#doctor cochran fanfic#doctor cochran fic#doctor cochran x reader#doctor cochran fanfiction#Brad Dourif#brad dourif fic#brad dourif x reader#brad dourif fanfic#brad dourif fanfiction
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Sometimes When I Get to Thinking part 4
8030 words
this chapter includes smut and some talk of pregnancy and infertility, and death, and some mild season 2 spoilers so please be warned
also just wanted to add a little context: I mention using exorcisms or pregnancy to treat pelvic pain which historically has actually been used to treat pelvic pain. pregnancy has been prescribed to treat pelvic pain (likely due to endometriosis) since the middle ages and although there is no evidence to support this doctors still suggest this to their patients today (I have first hand experience with this unfortunately)
anyway please enjoy!
gif credit @docamoscochran
It’s been about a month and a half since your incident at the Bella Union. Your wound is almost fully healed, thanks mostly to the docs skilled suturing, and your engagement to your lover has been announced to the whole town through Merrick’s newspaper the Deadwood Pioneer. The doc had employed some workers to begin building the extension to his home almost immediately after you had agreed to marry him, and some men in town, including Bullock and Star, even offered to work on it pro bono in their free time as a wedding present, and to show their gratitude for all the doc does for the town.
Your new home is now finished, furnished and decorated, and although you’d been living with the doc since your injury you’re both waiting until your wedding night to move into your new residence, which is quickly approaching. Your nuptials are only two days away!
You’d spent the morning making the batter for a large fruit cake that you had planned on sharing with your guests on your wedding day. Now, waiting for it to bake, you’re currently sitting at the docs small medicine table, across from him, crushing some herbs into a mortar and pestle. You often help him in his medical practice now, doing small things such as helping him make tinctures, or sterilising his instruments, and you always enjoy, it because working with him always leads to interesting conversations.
“You admitted to everyone at the town meeting that you’ve been arrested for grave robbing!? Seven times no less!” you exclaim with a laugh, completely amused by the story.
“It just sort of slipped out,” he replies, smiling as he measures out a powder into a bowl.
“Well I’m sure they understand, and they might even be grateful if they ever end up in a situation where the knowledge you acquired autopsying those bodies is needed. You must be glad they didn’t enquire how many times you actually robbed graves, and not merely the times you were caught,” you reach over the table and take his hand. “You certainly are an interesting man Amos, and I’m thankful for that.”
There’s a knock at the docs front door, and he rises quickly to open it.
“Are you sick?” he asks, and you hear the voice of Mrs Alma Garret in reply.
“No, I’m perfectly well Doctor Cochran. I was wondering if (Y/N) would enjoy taking some tea in my room,” she suggests, and the doc looks over to you. You stand, grabbing your cane, and walk over to the door. “It’s good to see you (Y/N),” she greets you, “and you look so well.”
“As do you Alma,” you reply. “I’d love to have some tea with you, as long as Amos can finish making his tinctures without my help.”
“I’m sure I can manage,” he replies with a smile. You turn to the doc and kiss him on his cheek.
“Don’t forget you have that town meeting in an hour Amos, and pick up your jacket from the tailor on your way back, it should be finished today,” you says you walk out the door, taking Alma’s hand.
“What about the cake?” he asks.
“It still has a few hours left to cook, I’m sure I won’t be too long Amos,” you say before leaving with Mrs Garett. You walk to the inn, your old home which you’re glad to have left, and when you enter her room you are greeted by her ward Sofia, as well as Joanie and Trixie, and Jewell and Jane. They sit you down, all staring at you as if you have something on your face. “How did you all get time off? And why?” you ask as Alma passes you a cup of tea.
“You know Al is fond of you, and... well I’ll let Alma tell it, it was her idea,” Trixie answers.
“I want to buy you a dress for your wedding, any dress you like, and I thought it would be nice for all your female companions to be part of the occasion. I’ve made an appointment for you to see the seamstress today,” she explains, and you look around the room, an expression of shock on your face.
“You would do that for me? You know Amos offered to buy me a new dress, and I turned him down don’t you?” you ask.
“Of course we would do this for you, and we won’t be taking no for an answer,” Alma replies, and you smile to all of them.
“I love you all so dearly, and I couldn’t ask for better friends... I just want to make sure you’re sure you want to buy me a dress.”
“Of course she’s goddamn sure!” Jane replies.
“Show her what else you have!” Jewel tells Alma, excitement evident in her voice.
“There’s more!? You’re spoiling me rotten Alma,” you say, and she hands you a box. You open it to find a pair of duck egg blue boots wrapped in tissue paper. You put a hand over your mouth, the emotion of the situation getting to you. “My mother had a pair just like these when I was a child! H-how did you know my size?” you say, completely shocked, and completely delighted.
“I asked your doctor,” Alma replies, innuendo evident in her tone.
“He knew!?” you asked, surprised.
“About the boots, and about the dress, although he wasn’t sure you’d agree to either,” Joanie tells you. Trixie takes your hand in hers, helping you to stand.
“Now come on, the seamstress it waiting!” she tells you sternly, and you laugh as all of you, including Sofia, whom you walk hand in hand with, walk out of the inn and down the street to the seamstresses shop to be fitted for your new dress.
Meanwhile at the Gem, Al had called all the members of Deadwood’s ad hoc governance into a town meeting, and had told everyone besides the doc to show up a few minutes early.
“As I’m sure you all know,” Al adresses the men. “The doc is getting married in two days time, and as much as I despise doing good deeds for people with no end goal of my own, I think that seeing as the doc does so much for all of us, for this whole fucking camp, we should all try to make his wedding day, and night for that matter, as uneventful as goddamn possible. Spread the word that any man who injures another on his wedding day will have his fucking throat slit by me personally.”
“A-and what if someone gets sick,” Farnum asks, recieving a sigh from Al.
“If someone gets fucking sick, E.B, tell them to deal with it on their fucking own, or put themselves out of their goddamn misery. No one, and I mean no one, calls on the doc in two days time, is that understood?” Al asks the room, and everyone nods in agreement just as the doc walks in.
“Sorry I’m late,” he says as he sits.
“That’s okay doc, we were just getting started.”
A few hours later, you walk back into the docs place, box of boots in hand, immediately taking a seat across from him and his medical table where he is cutting into some poor dead mans head. Being around dead bodies barely seems to phase you anymore, which you’re glad about seeing as you find yourself around them so frequently now, however you’re happy that soon you’ll be sleeping in a room that no dead body has ever entered. You sigh as you sit, slouching in your chair and placing the box on the floor beside you.
“Big day?” he asks, looking up from the body and to you for a moment before going back to what he was doing.
“I’ll tell you about it in a moment, once I catch my breath,” you tell him, then check the watch you wear around your neck. “Oh fuck, the cake!” you exclaim, rushing off to pull your wedding cake out of the oven, and almost falling face first to the floor as you do so.
“Slow down! You’ll injure yourself!” the doc yells to you, huffing before going back to the autopsy. His reaction makes you laugh lightly. You always love it when he yells because it shows you just how much he cares for you. You walk back to him with a tea towel flung over your shoulder.
“Not to toot my own horn, but I have to say, the cake looks perfect,” you tell him with a large smile. From the opposite side of the table you lean over to him, and kiss him over the dead body. He leans into the kiss, and you can feel from the way his lips and tongue take command of yours that he’s more desperate for you than he usually is, which is saying quite a lot.
“Tell me about your day,” the doc implores you once again once you pull away and sit back down. He has a knowing smile on his face as he waits for your reply.
“Like you don’t know what happened, you sly dog! I can’t believe you knew about the dress and the boots!” you reply, also smiling.
“Well you wouldn’t let me pay, and I couldn’t say no to Mrs Garett.”
“Evidently neither could I, because I have here the boots she promised me, and the seamstress is altering my new a skirt and blouse as we speak. Alma certainly is persuasive.”
“And good at getting what she wants,” he adds.
“That she is... and how was the town meeting?” you ask as you begin to undress, removing your shoes first, before unbuttoning your dress and slipping the top off.
“Uneventful,” the doc replies, looking up to you then back down quickly, determined not to look up again so as not to distract himself from his work, but he can feel himself filling out in his pants despite the fact he was cutting into a mans brain. “Merrick’s in love with you,” he says suddenly, trying to distract himself from the growing bulge in his pants. You go to laugh at his comment, but stop yourself.
“You’re serious?” you ask, and he nods.
“He asks after you, without fail, whenever we meet.”
“Well we’re friends Amos. Him asking after me alone doesn’t prove love,” you tell him, sliding your dress all the way off now, and hanging it in the closet you share, now leaving you in your underclothes.
“Today he asked if I would permit him to take some photos of you alone on our wedding day,” he adds.
“Alone?” you repeat, thinking. “I wonder if he wants me clothed or unclothed,” you tease.
“Well I’m sure I can guess which he’d prefer,” the doc says, with a sigh of disbelief.
“Well either way, I’m not letting him take any pictures of me alone,” you say, getting serious now. “I don’t want to be standing in a picture alone, I want to be with you. I want to be remembered with you... I wonder if now would be a good time to bring something up that I’ve been avoiding.”
“Now would be as good a time as any,” he replies, looking over to you as he washes his hands off, his autopsy now finished. You sit on the end of his bed, and he walks over to you, brows furrowed.
“Please, let me finish speaking before you reply,” you request, and he nods, agreeing. “I love you Amos, and I know you know that... I just want you to be certain you want to marry me, and that you have no reservations, because...” the doc goes to speak, but you hush him. “Please Amos, let me finish, this is difficult for me... I have been told my a doctor in the past that my pain is an indicator I may not be able to conceive, or that I may not be able to carry a pregnancy to term, and I want to be sure you’ll be happy with me whether we have a child or not,” you finish speaking, and the doc sits down beside you, taking your hands in his.
“Let me start off by saying that the doctor you speak of is correct, pain like yours can often mean a difficult pregnancy, or no pregnancy at all, but let me also say that this is not always the case. Either way (Y/N), I want to be with you, now and always, the state of your fertility notwithstanding.”
You hug him tight once he’s finished speaking, relieved by his answer.
“Have you imagined being a father?” you ask him, cheek pressed against his in your embrace. He’s rubbing his hand up and down your lower back, and his touch makes your body tingle with excitement.
“Maybe when I was young.”
“And now? Would you like to be a father?” you ask as you pull away from his embrace, looking into his eyes.
“I think I might, but I can’t say for certain,” he replies. “Would you like to be a mother?” he asks, and you lay a hand on his thigh, sliding it higher and higher, painfully slowly.
“I might,” you reply, mirroring his answer. The doc looks down to your hand, preoccupied by your touch. “I’d like to try, at least.”
“We... we could do that,” he says as your hand reaches the bulge in his pants, squeezing there softly. He lets out a shaky breath, taking your forearm in his hand.
“I’d like to pleasure you,” you tell him. “And I’d like to wait to be pleasured by you until our wedding night. Does that suit you?” you ask, and the doc nods, staring at you with an intensity only he is capable of. You’re beginning to think you’d like to feel him inside of you, unsure whether you’ll be able to resist the urge to be pleasured by him, penetrated by him, for another two nights. You rub him up and down with one hand as you begin to unbutton his pants with the other, after a moment taking hold of his hard cock. You slide from the bed to the floor, kneeling between his legs, and looking up at him with doe eyes. You begin to pump his cock, and he takes hold of your free arm, squeezing it. “Can I go down on you Amos?” you ask, your lips almost touching the tip of his member.
“Please,” he implores you, not sounding nearly as desperate as he truly is. You take him in your mouth, and the doc entangles his fingers in your hair, pressing you further down ever so slightly. His hand moves from your hair to your neck, then your back, caressing you softly as you begin to bob your head up and down, slow and firm. You like to tease him first, which is also exactly what he likes to do for you. “I love you, I love you,” he chants in a breathy whisper as you begin to quicken your pace. You pull off, taking a quick moment to catch your breath.
“I love the way you talk to me,” you say, before going back down on him, sucking him for another minute or so.
“I...I’ll get you back for this later,” he tells you, almost ready for completion now.
“I can’t wait,” you mumble around his cock, sucking him good and fast a few more moments before cum erupts from the docs cock, and you squeeze your legs together as his seed streams into your mouth, desperately horny at the sight of his debauchery. You reach up and into the docs pocket, puling out a handkerchief to clean him off with as you pull off of him. You swallow his cum down, and wipe the access off his cock before wiping your mouth. The doc is panting slightly and stroking your hair. He takes your hands in his and helps you to stand, and you sit back on the bed beside him, tucking him back into his pants.
“I ain’t touching you again until our wedding night,” you inform the doc with a smile before he leans forward, kissing you feverishly. “Although if you keep kissing me like that I’ll have to go back on my word” you say, and laugh lightly, going in for another kiss. “If only I could suddenly develop a repulsion to your devilish good looks and suave charm for the next day only, so as we’ll both be good and ready for the aerobics I know will be awaiting us on our wedding night.”
“You’ve seen me cut a mans brain open, I think it’s safe to assume I will never be able to repulse you,” he retorts, also smiling at you.
“And what exactly is the prognosis for that poor dead man lying over yonder doc?” you ask playfully.
“Well it would seem that a bullet to the frontal lobe of the brain is the cause of death, although interestingly the man also suffered from wet brain.”
“Caused by excessive alcohol consumption, yes?”
“You remembered,” the doc states, sounding slightly surprised, and more than slightly proud of you.
“Of course I did Amos. You know how intently I listen to all you have to say, and besides, I find the way you talk about your medicine so incredibly endearing,” you reply, letting your hands roam around the docs clothed chest. “Are you hungry Amos?” you ask. “I’ll fix us some dinner.”
“I’ll help,” he replies, helping you to stand. “I love you,” he whispers to you once more.
“And I love you,” you whisper back, laying one last kiss on his lips before walking to the kitchen you share to prepare dinner for the both of you.
The next day is spent mostly with you decorating your cake and the doc doing his rounds, with little talk of your wedding amongst the two of you. Around noon you pack some things, readying yourself to leave the docs residence overnight to allay any bad luck on your wedding day, and by the time the sun is beginning to set you’re standing in the docs open doorway, cane in one hand, bag in the other, waiting in anticipation for him to come home from his rounds. You look to your left, down the street, and see your lover walking towards his home with your head down.
“Amos!” you call out, and gesture for him to hurry. He quickens his pace, now arriving at his doorstep. He greets you with a kiss, taking off his hat. “I’m spending the night at the Chez Ami with Joanie and Jane. If you’d have been five minutes later coming home I would’ve had to leave without saying goodbye,” you tell him with a loving smile.
“Do you really believe in bad luck?” he asks.
“I’m not sure I do, but I’d rather be safe than sorry,” you reply, stroking your hand across his face. “I’m gonna miss you tonight,” you tell him, leaning over to kiss him again, and he kisses back with such passion you find it hard to pull away. “If you keep that up I won’t be able to leave.”
“Do you have the raspberry leaf and mugwort tea?” he asks you in a serious tone, and you nod. “And the ointment for your back and hip pain?”
“Yes Amos,” you reply, smiling at his concern for you.
“If the pain becomes unbearable do not hesitate to come see me, or send someone to fetch me. I don’t care about any goddamn superstitions!” he tells you, practically yelling now. “I don’t want you to sit back whilst your organs are bleeding or your appendix is bursting, god forbid, because you’re worried about bad luck on our goddamn wedding day!” he finishes, and you still can’t stop smiling at him.
“I’ll send someone if I’m in bad pain, cross my heart and hope to die,” you promise him. “I love you Amos, and I’ll see you at four pm tomorrow,” you tell him, and kiss him once more.
“I love you too (Y/N),” he tells you as you begin your walk to the now mostly abandoned Chez Ami. The doc watches you as you walk, admiring you in the warm light of the setting sun, quietly asking himself how he could have possibly found a partner as wonderful as you.
“Fucking finally!” Jane yells as you enter the Chez Ami. She’s sitting next to Joanie, and both have a drink in their hand.
“You start the party without me?” you ask as you sit, placing your bag and on the floor. Joanie pours you a drink, which you down quickly. You feel a wave of emotion come over you all of a sudden, tears welling in your eye. You look down to your glass, biting your bottom lip.
“What’s wrong?” Joanie asks you, placing a hand on your shoulder.
“You having second thoughts about marrying the doc?” Jane asks all of a sudden. Her comment receives a glare form Joanie.
“No I’m not fucking having second thoughts Jane,” you reply, wiping some tears from your cheeks. “I haven’t spent a night without him for so long, and he worries for me so. I wish this goddamn superstition didn’t fucking exist. I only just saw him, but I already miss him.”
“You’ll see him soon!” Joanie reassures you with a smile, rubbing your arm as she tries to comfort you. “Come on, let’s get some food into you so you can sleep early. You won’t want to be tired on your big day, or your big night,” she says before walking off to prepare dinner for the three of you.
“You really fucking love him?” Jane asks as she begins to drink from the bottle.
“Yeah, I really fucking do,” you reply, taking your tarot cards out from their pouch.
“Well I think he’s goddamn irritating! And a fucking know it all with all his fancy goddamn words. He don’t ever say what he actually goddamn means!” she tells you.
“He likes you too Jane. You know, one day the two of you ought to try to get along, preferably tomorrow,” you reply with an amused smile as you begin to shuffle your cards. Three cards fly out, and you turn them over right side up, examining them. “Ten of cups, the devil, the sun,” you say, your smile growing.
“What’s it mean?” Joanie asks as she walks back into the lounge room of the Chez Ami, handing both you and Jane a plate of eggs and fresh bread.
“Ten of cups means divine love, and the other two are two of the same cards the doc pulled the first day we met. This is a good sign, I just know it... I just know it.”
You spend the rest of the night, before you sleep, giving Joanie and Jane a reading, and most of the next day preparing for your nuptials. Joanie helps you to bathe, and helps you with your hair, placing a few wild flowers in it. You have your hair in a half up style because the doc always liked seeing you with your hair down. You apply a new set of lingerie to your body first, which you had ordered special from a magazine catalog a month ago - it consists of sheer black lacy bloomers and bra, with matching stockings and garter belt which are rather racy. Jane reluctantly agrees to fetch your new skirt and blouse from the seamstress, and when you put it on it fits you perfectly, showing just enough cleavage. It’s not very fancy, but you never wanted it to be. It’s practical, and it’s you, and you know the doc will love it.
“Well, you’ve got your something old,” Joanie tells you, gesturing to your neck watch. “Your something new,” she says, referring to your dress. “And those new boots are certainly your something blue. This can be your something borrowed,” Joanie extends her arm, placing a sweet little broach in the shape of a bird, encrusted with gems, in your hand.
“Oh Joanie, it’s perfect! Will you put it on for me?” you ask, and she does, pinning it over your heart. You check your watch, and it’s almost four. Before long Trixie walks into the Chez Ami, dressed to the nines in a new pink dress. “Oh my goodness Trixie you look beautiful!” you tell her. “You all look so beautiful!”
“We look beautiful? Have you looked in a goddamn mirror girl? The doc is gonna drop fucking dead when he sees you!” she tells you, walking over to you. Her comment lights up your face. “I just came from the docs.”
“How is he?” you ask, eyebrows furrowed.
“A nervous fucking wreck,” she replies.
“I’m glad I’m not the only one,” you tell her, and she takes your hand.
“He and the reverend are waiting for you now, and Charlie is waiting outside to give you away. Are you ready to go?” Trixie asks, and you nod, standing.
“I think so. You all go along now, I’ll be out in a moment, I just need a second to myself,” you tell the three of them, and they leave the Chez Ami, making their way to your new home where the ceremony is about to take place. You walk over to a mirror, checking your appearance, making sure everything is perfect. “I never thought I’d find someone who would love me despite my disability,” you say to your reflection. “For so many years I thought I was unlovable, but I was wrong. I’ve found my divine counterpart, and I’m about to fucking marry him,” a smile grows on your face, and Charlie knocks on the door, poking his head in.
“Everyone’s waiting for you (Y/N),” he says, and you walk over to him, your cane in hand. He links your arm with his as you begin to walk to the ceremony. “You look radiant (Y/N). How are you feeling?” he asks.
“Nervous as all hell, and more excited than I can possibly express. I just can’t wait to see him,” you reply, smiling to him. The two of you arrive to your and the docs home. The large doors at the entry are open, and as you step for inside you see all of the friends you’ve made in Deadwood waiting for you; Jewel and Alma, and of course Sofia, Joanie and Jane and Trixie, Merrick, Bullock and Star, and even Al, just to name a few. You notice that the room is decorated with wild flowers, and streams of blue and white ribbons, and for once in your life, you think to yourself, everything is perfect. The doc is facing the reverend, his back to you. You place your cane in Charlie’s hand as you unlink your arm from his, walking alone to meet your partner. The doc slowly turns to you, the worried look on his face disappearing in an instant at the sight of you. He’s taken aback by your youthful beauty, a slight blush appearing on his cheeks. When you reach him he takes your hand, and you don’t hesitate to kiss him, unable to wait until the end of the ceremony to feel his lips against yours. “Keep me upright, for now,” you tell him with a wink, and he wraps his arm around yours, steadying your legs. The reverend begins with his reading, and you both give your vows. The doc reveals to you a silver ring, with a single ruby in the centre of it, placing it on your ring finger; you don’t know how he afforded it, but you’d never ask. The two of you say your I do’s, and the ceremony ends with the two of you kissing once again, and your guests throw rice over you as they congratulate you. When you pull away from the kiss the doc has tears in his eyes, as do you. He pulls you close to him, hugging you with all his might.
“I goddamn love you (Y/N). Don’t you ever forget that,” he tells you.
“I goddamn love you too Amos, and I won’t ever forget,” you reply, kissing him once more. The two of you stare at each other for a moment, gazing into each others eyes before you snap out of your daze, remembering there are other people in the room with you. You turn to them with a smile you can’t wipe off your face. “Seeing as Amos and I have a dining table far too big for the two of us, and a cake that could probably feed everyone in this town, I hope you’ll all join us for some cake and coffee, and whiskey if that takes your fancy, before the real festivities begin.”
“Wait wait! A photograph to immortalise this wonderful occasion!” Merrick reminds you, standing behind this camera. When you turn to the man you can tell he’s been crying, and you think that’s awful sweet.
“Get out of the fucking picture reverend!” Trixie yells, and you laugh softly at her outburst.
“Thank you Trixie,” you say as the reverend walks behind the camera. The doc places a hand on your lower back, feeling you up and down. His touch makes you hot. You turn your head to him, looking up at him with a loving smile, and Merrick takes the picture. You reach up and kiss his jaw softly. “Coffee and cake,” you say to the room, almost absentmindedly, still gazing at the doc. “This way everyone.”
You walk with the doc into the next room, your kitchen and dining area, and sit everyone down around the large dining table you had intricately embellished with the carpentry skills you possess. The doc lays some plates down, and you begin to cut the cake, laying a piece on each plate as the doc begins to brew the coffee. Having served the cake, you walk back over to the doc as your guests chat amongst each other, placing a hand on his shoulder. He turns to you.
“You look,” he begins, searching for the words to describe what he’s feeling.
“Cat got your tongue?” you ask, biting your bottom lip. Still, you cannot stop smiling.
“I can’t begin to describe how beautiful you are Mrs Cochran.”
“Call me that again Doctor Cochran,” you reply, reaching over for a bottle of whiskey, but never looking away from your lover.
“I’m gonna kiss you again Mrs Cochran,” he tells you, lifting your chin up to meet his lips. The two of you can hardly keep your hands off each other, and people are beginning to notice.
“So, how does it feel to be married?” Al asks you. You place the whiskey and enough teacups for everyone on the table. The doc does the same with the coffee, and you both sit at the head of the table, next to one another, and across from Al.
“Well we have been living in sin practically since the day we met, so not too different, but it was nice to declare my love for the doc in front of you all,” you reply, placing a hand on the docs thigh. After cake and drinks, and some wonderful and rather racy conversations the party moves outdoors to the street, where music is playing, and people are dancing. The doc and you sit and watch for a little as the sun goes down, talking to each other quietly.
“I ain’t never seen two people look so much in love,” Joanie says to Charlie as they watch the two of you from afar.
“They certainly have something special between them, but what is a mystery to me I’ll tell you that much,” Charlie says in reply.
“Will you dance with me?” you ask the doc, your hand in his.
“Are you up to it?” he asks, sounding concerned.
“I surely am,” you reply. “You just need to keep me on my feet,” you half joke, standing. You walk into the street, and the doc holds you close to his body as the two of you begin to dance. “You know, I’m enjoying the festivities, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to get you alone,” you whisper to him, and the doc smiles down to you salaciously.
“I don’t think anyone’ll mind if we slip away,” he replies.
“After this dance lover, then you can have me all to yourself, all goddamn night.”
After your dance you make your way back to your home and into your new bedroom that the two of you now occupy for the first time. You enter, smiling to the doc who’s sitting on the bed as you begin to disrobe, taking down your hair, and taking off your jewellery first, but not your ring.
“Do you like it?” he asks, noticing you admiring your ring.
“I absolutely love it Amos, you spoil me so,” you reply, and the doc removes his jacket and shoes, then his tie, before unbuttoning his shirt. “Luckily for you I have a little surprise for you too,” you tell him, ever so slowly beginning to unbutton your blouse. Before you undo your last button you place your foot between the docs legs on the bed, and he removes one of your shoes, then the other, revealing the bottom of your black lace stockings. You set your feet back onto the steady ground, finally opening your blouse fully and the doc is mesmerised by your breasts, clothed only in the sheer lace. You untie your skirt, letting it drop to the floor, and the doc pats his lap.
“Come on,” he encourages you, and you saunter over to him, sitting on his lap. His hands go straight to your waist, squeezing there before running them down to your hips, then your thighs.
“I knew you’d like it,” you comment quietly, taking his face in your hands, kissing him hard. His tongue overtakes your mouth, and you let it, ready to give into the pleasure you know you’re about to receive. “You looked so handsome in your new jacket today, but I have to admit, I couldn’t help thinking about what lie underneath,” you admit, undoing his pant button, and pulling down his suspenders. You grind down onto him, moving your hips slowly. You can feel his prick against your cunt.
“Take off your bloomers,” he tells you, and you nod, standing once again. You pull them down and leave them on the floor with the rest of your clothes. The doc rubs his hands over his thighs as he watches you, taking a deep breath. “Tell me what you want,” he commands, staring you down.
“I want to be pinned down beneath you,” you begin. “And I want you inside of me.”
“And?”
“And I want to feel you cum in me, a-and then I want to ride you, and I want to feel your hands all over me, and inside of me. I want you to do what you want with me.”
“Do you need me to sort out any of your pain before we begin?” he asks as you sit down beside him.
“No,” you reply.
“You have no pain?” he asks again, and stands.
“None that I can notice,” you tell him, smiling, and for once you’re telling the truth about not being in pain. The doc pins you down on the bed, holding your wrists together above your head with one hand whilst he lays hard kisses on your lips, and down to your breasts. He feels up your legs until his hand is laying on your naked snatch. Your breath hitches as he enters your vulva with his fingers, rubbing them over your clit. He’s staring you right in the eye, never breaking eye contact. He pulls away after a few moments of pleasuring you with his fingers, and removes his clothes. You watch on, the sight of his naked body exciting you further. He leans over you once again, straddling your hips as he helps you out of your bra, leaving you only in your stockings and garter belt. He reaches into you once again, entering you this time with his index and middle fingers. He feels your wetness, pumping in and out of you, readying you for his cock. You moan loud, content in knowing that in your new residence no one will be able to hear you. Reaching underneath your lover, you grasp onto his prick, squeezing softly. “I want your cock inside me, please Doctor Cochran,” you whisper to him, salacious smile on your lips.
“It turns you on to call me that, doesn’t it Mrs Cochran?” he asks, entering you with his prick finally. You grunt at the feeling of being filled, closing your eyes and biting your bottom lip.
“It does, Doctor Cochran,” you say breathlessly. The doc closes his eyes also, placing his forehead against yours as he begins to thrust in and out of you, forceful, but slow at first. You wrap your arms around his back, and your legs around his waist, sighing hard with every movement. You breathe in the scent of him, feeling up his back, his shoulders and his neck, then entangling your fingers in his curls.
“I love you,” the doc whispers as he begins to quicken his pace. “Fuck, I love you more than I can possibly say.”
Amos begins to kiss you hard once again, his thrusts becoming even faster now as he feels both of your orgasms approaching . You moan into his mouth, pulling at his hair softly, your lips sucking on his tongue. The doc wraps an arm underneath you, his chest pressed against your chest, not a cunt hair of free space between your two bodies.
“I need to feel you cum in me,” you tell him between moans, and the doc begins to grunt, unable to keep himself silent any longer. He reaches down to your cunt with his free hand, circling your clit with his thumb. You cry out, moaning your husbands name as his grunts become louder and more frequent. Amos buries his cock deeper and deeper into you, keeping his lively rhythm as you lose yourself to the pleasure of your lovers body, your orgasm overtaking you as you scream out, gripping onto the docs hair. He cums in you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he tries to quieten his moans, with no success. He begins to slow down, and eventually stops moving his hips completely, but he doesn’t pull out just yet. “S-stay inside me, please, just a little longer,” you practically plead with him, kissing his head. “I like feeling you deep in me.”
The doc pulls away from you slightly, but not out of you, gazing down at you with loving eyes. He pushes some of your hair from your face and kisses you on your cheek, just below your eye. After a minute he pulls out of you, and the two of you go a few more rounds with each other until you’re both good and satisfied, and tired as hell. You’re both lying on your backs in bed, under the covers, and the doc leans over to his bedside table, pulling out a bottle and two glasses from one of the drawers.
“You been hiding that from me?” you ask, sitting up as you watch the doc pour you both a drink, handing yours to you before placing the bottle on his bedside table.
“Wine. I was saving it for a special occasion,” he replies, smiling to you. “I need to tell you something,” he says, becoming serious all of a sudden.
“Out with it, you’re worrying me,” you tell him, downing your drink quicker than you had intended to, but the doc tops your glass back up quickly.
“Well, I’ve been doing some research about your ailment.”
“Oh god Amos, don’t fucking talk to me about that tonight, I don’t wanna goddamn hear it,” you reply, your patience waning.
“Just listen for a goddamn second, because I’ve been trying to diagnose you, so as to help you, maybe find a cure, or a combination of drugs and herbs to rid you of that pain in your belly once and for all...” he pauses for a moment to take a drink. “But I ain’t found a whole lot yet besides some quack doctors prescribing goddamn exorcisms or the like, or pregnancy.”
“Being with child could help?” you as him, your interest piquing.
“Well I can’t rule it out, but I highly doubt it would do you much good. I see no evidence to support it, and in fact it’s my opinion that it would do more harm to you to pressure you to become pregnant when we both know that may not ever happen,” he replies, taking your hand. “All I wanted to say was that, whilst it mightn’t look like I’m doing much, I am trying to fucking help you, and if it takes me the rest of my goddamn life I goddamn promise you I will exile this pain from your body.”
“Amos, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you. I want to be rid of this pain, I really fucking do, but even if you don’t find anything that’ll help me just knowing you’re trying is enough to make me happy for the rest of my goddamn life. I feel so lucky to be with you, to have you as my husband, and my lover, and my friend, and on top of all that to have you as my doctor also... well I could never have wished for anything more, in fact I often feel too lucky, because being with you just makes me so goddamn happy, and because you’re such a good man... and I love you Amos, and I know I always say it, but I really goddamn mean it.”
“I love you too (Y/N), and I never get tired of hearing you say that to me,” he says, looking down to his glass with a sort of shy smile. You’ve flattered him, and you’re goddamn glad you have.
“I don’t even know who I’d be without the pain, so I guess the longer you take to find a cure the longer I have to figure that out, and it seems to me I’ll need a good long time,” you tell him with a smile, then kiss his cheek. “If I wasn’t so set on never letting this night end I’d say we’d better be getting to sleep,” you down the rest of your wine, then yawn, lying down in the bed you two now share. “You did have a good time today, didn’t you?” you ask as the doc lays the glasses on the table and pulls you to his chest, his arm around you as he lays down in bed. You lay your head on his chest, laying small kisses on it as you reach up to stroke the docs cheek and jaw.
“I can’t remember a better day in my life,” he replies pensively, then kisses your forehead. “You get to sleep now Mrs Cochran, we both need our rest.”
The two of you wake early the next morning and decide to spend some time in bed, just talking to one another, before readying for your day, letting the sun warm your two naked bodies. Your solitary laze is interrupted by a pounding at your door, and the doc shoots up, dressing quick smart before rushing to the door. He opens it, not to find a sick patient or someone asking for help, but Blazanov.
“Telegram for Mrs Cochran from Cheyenne and Black Hills Telegraph Company,” he says, and the doc takes the telegram from his hands, looking it over with furrowed brows. You throw on your robe, rushing to the door with your purse, placing a few dollars in Blazanov’s hand.
“Thank you,” you tell him before closing the door. “I can’t imagine who could have sent me a telegram. No one outside this camp knows I’m here.”
“Well open it and see,” the doc says, getting slightly impatient. He puts some coffee on, and you open the letter, reading it aloud.
“Dear miss (Y/N), I’m sending this telegram to inform you of your fathers death, and, as his lawyer, and acting in his estates behalf, I must also inform you that you are your fathers sole heir and stand to inherit... Jesus fucking christ!” you exclaim suddenly, showing the letter to your husband. “Does that say what I think it goddamn says or am I hallucinating!? Because that’s a lot of goddamn fucking money!” you ask, and the doc looks from the letter to you, looking just as shocked as you do. You sit yourself down at your dining table and continue to read.
“I read about your whereabouts in the announcement of your engagement to a Doctor Cochran in the Deadwood Pioneer, a copy of which found its way to me. I await your reply, after which I will make my way to Deadwood to discuss your inheritance further, yours faithfully Mr Bill Gale...” you pause for a moment, taking a deep breath. “My dad’s dead, and I don’t feel fucking sad about it, I don’t feel nothing about it,” you say, and let out a laugh of disbelief. “The man must be rolling in his grave knowing I, the daughter he hated so intensely, am about to inherit his fortune. His wife must’ve died too, that must be why I’m inheriting and not her... H-holy fuck Amos, I think I’m in shock.”
“I think you are too, and I also think that’s understandable given the news you just received,” he replies, sitting across from you.
“I don’t even want his money Amos. I don’t know what I’d do with it all. Why in gods name would someone need that much money?”
“Well, you have my support, whether you accept it or not,” the doc tells you, placing a supportive hand on your shoulder.
“I guess this would give us a good reason to try for a child, because if I do accept we’ll have someone to leave the money to, and our kid won’t ever have to worry about money,” you comment, looking deep into the docs eyes.
“And if you can’t get pregnant, what then? How will you be mentally? And if you do get pregnant and the pregnancy threatens your life, or puts you in more pain? Or if you have a difficult delivery?” as the doc speaks you can see the worry in his eyes, and although, if given the choice, you would have opted for the doc not to have listed every negative outcome to the plan you had just proposed, you can understand his concern. You give the doc a sympathetic smile.
“If I can’t get pregnant, so be it. And if the pregnancy puts me in danger, we’ll get rid of it... but if, by some stroke of luck, I get pregnant, and have an uneventful pregnancy, and deliver a healthy baby, whom we’ll both love, and cherish, and teach, and who might grow up to be a wonderful doctor just like you Amos, would that not be worth all the pain and suffering I could possibly go through?” you ask, taking the docs hand now.
“You’ll be a wonderful mother,” he tells you, a soft smile now evident on his lips.
“And you’ll be the most loving father,” you reply, leaning over to kiss the doc, which he reciprocates. You pull away, and the doc stands, pouring you both some coffee. “I’ll accompany you on your rounds at the Gem today, and stop at the Pioneer on the way to give my reply... these past few days have had enough excitement to last me a lifetime, I swear to you they have.”
#deadwood#deadwood fic#deadwood fanfic#deadwood fanfiction#doctor cochran#doc cochran#doctor amos cochran#doc cochran fanfic#doc cochran fic#doc cochran x reader#doc cochran fanfiction#doctor cochran fanfic#doctor cochran fic#doctor cochran x reader#doctor cochran fanfiction#brad dourif#brad dourif fic#brad dourif x reader#brad dourif fanfic#brad dourif fanfiction
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Sometimes When I Get to Thinking part 3
6222 words
this chapter includes quite a bit of angst and violence so please be warned
an unspecified amount of time has elapsed since part 2, and I leave how much time to the readers discretion
also I just wanted to say that I’ve really been enjoying writing this series, and thanks for reading
It’s the early hours of the morning, and you hadn’t seen the doc all day due to him being unusually busy with patients. This means two things; the first being that you miss him immensely, and the second is that the doc wasn’t able to give you anything to take to prevent the pain that always came with your moons. It’s your own damn fault, and you know it. You should have gone out to find the doc many hours ago, and now you’re standing at his doorstep, leaning against the wood of his home, barely able to hold yourself up. You knock, and call out, your voice gravel and shaky from all the crying you’ve been doing.
“Amos,” you say, and he quickly pulls on his pants and shirt before rushing to the door, putting his glasses on as he opens it.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, swiftly taking hold of you from under your arm, taking some of your weight as he helps you inside, laying you on his bed.
“I’m on my moons. The... the pain is bad... it’s real bad,” you say, and the doc reaches down to wipe some tears from your cheeks, pushing some hair from your face.
“Alright then, j-just sit tight,” he tells you with a frown, and makes sure you’re comfortable before fetching the tincture he had given you the first day you’d met. He places some grains over the fire, letting them heat slowly. He’s stressed, you can tell, and you’re already feeling guilty about coming to see him. You let out a sob as he walks back over to you, holding a glass of water with the drug mixed in it, which he holds to your lips. “Why didn’t you come see me earlier?” he asks as you drink, his voice filled with concern.
“I-I didn’t want to bother you, I know you’ve h-... I know you’ve had a long day, I heard about the man who got shot, and that you had to operate on him,” you say, tears streaming down your cheeks.
“What have I told you?!” the doc practically yells, anger rising in him. “Pay no mind to me! If you’re in pain you need to come see me! You’re no bother! You’ve never been a bother!”
“Were you s-s-sleeping just now?” you ask, then grasp onto your abdomen, the pain still prominent. The doc rushes over to his fireplace, gathering the hot grains.
“Yes,” he replies concisely from across the room.
“Well then I am a bother! You need your rest!” you say as you begin to cry harder.
“Oh stop that!” he says, walking back over to you with the grains wrapped in a thick piece of fabric. He places it on your abdomen under your dress in a huff. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself!”
“Feeling sorry for myself!?” you yell in disbelief. “I’ve dealt with this pain most of my life! I don’t feel sorry for myself! I feel sorry for you, that you have to deal with it!” your voice cracks, and you let out a loud sob, crying so hard now that you can’t speak anymore, you can hardly even breathe. The doc watches you as you speak, in slight shock. This is the first time you’d ever spoken a cross word to him, ever raised your voice.
“I. am. a. doctor,” he says, pointing to himself and tapping on his chest with each word, speaking slightly more calmly. “You’re supposed to come to me for help.”
“Y-“ you stop trying to speak for a moment to catch your breath, desperate to pull yourself back from the brink of hysteria. “You are a-also a human being Amos, a-and you need your rest,” you tell him firmly, never breaking eye contact with him. “The way you overwork yourself scares me, and I... I don’t want to have contributed to your early death due to your overwork!”
The doc surveys your face, for the first time seeing the true grief in your expression, his eyebrows furrowed, and you suddenly notice tears welling in his eyes. You’re worried you’ve hurt him with your words, but he’s not hurt at all. All he can think about is how much you must care for him to be worrying about his longevity, and how much seeing him work himself to the bone must worry you to warrant such a forceful reaction out of you. He sits down beside you on his bed, wiping your tear stained cheeks again. You use all the strength you have left in your pain and fatigue ridden body to sit up, suddenly hugging the doc tight to your chest, crying into his shoulder. He holds you tight against him, petting your hair softly in the hope that it might comfort you. A stray tear falls from the docs left eye, but he’s careful not to let his emotions overwhelm him, wiping it away quickly so you won’t notice.
“Listen to me (Y/N),” he says as he pulls away slightly so he can look into your eyes. “Besides the pain in my knee I’ve told you about I am a perfectly healthy man, and I don’t plan on dying any time soon. What could have possibly happened to get you thinking about my death?”
“W-well, before the pain got bad I made some good money giving readings today,” you begin, speaking between sobs. “And when I got back to my room at the inn I was just shuffling my cards absentmindedly, and two cards flew out. First I saw the hermit, a-and that card represents you, I know for a fact it does, but then I saw death, and that scares me because the past few days you’ve been so stressed, so high strung, and on edge with all the patients I’ve seen you with. I’m worried you’re going to have a heart attack or a stroke or something, and I just don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you!”
“Do you remember what I told you when I first met you, when you told me you didn’t want to disturb me?” he asks delicately, a sympathetic smile on his face now.
“You said you’re the doctor, don’t be the doctor,” you reply, finally beginning to calm down.
“You’ll be the one worrying yourself into an early grave if you don’t stop trying to be the doctor. I’m fine! I enjoy my work! I’m here to help anyone who needs it, including you. I want to help you (Y/N). I want to take away your pain.”
“Okay,” you concede, and kiss his lips. “Okay, fine you’re right,” you admit, but truthfully you’re not happy about losing the first argument you’ve ever had as a couple.
“Let me help you out of your dress, you can sleep here with me,” he says as he begins to undress you, leaving you in your undergarments. “How’s the pain now?”
“Not so bad,” you reply. “Bearable.”
The doc removes his pants and shirt before lying down on his back. You wipe the remainder of your tears away with your hands, and place your head on his chest as you lie on your side, his arm holding you firmly. You’ve grown used to the smell of him now. His musk makes you slightly nostalgic, reminding you of all the time you’ve spent alone together, all the pleasurable moments you’ve shared.
“You know,” you say as you trace your index finger over his bare chest absentmindedly. “When I was younger, before the pain got this bad, I would go to balls any chance I could, and I’d dance through the night, dancing my way through every able bodied man at the ball... but at the end of the night, when they would walk me home, I always knew I was never meant to be with any of them, because I have always known the kind of man I was meant to love; a kind man, a delicate man, a man who cares for others almost more than he cares for himself, a man who is educated and who loves knowledge, but I gave up on ever meeting him, because no matter how many men I danced with I never danced with him. I never met him... I never met him until I met you.”
After a moment of silence you look up to the doc and see that he’s sound asleep, and you’re glad. He, more than most, needed it, as do you.
Early in the morning you’re both awaken by a sudden knock at the door.
“What!?” the doc calls out, standing quickly. You move to the edge of the bed, sitting with your legs crossed.
“Someone’s been shot inside the Bella Union!” the man replies, and you recognise that the phantom voice is that of Charlie Udder.
“Goddammit!” the doc says to himself as he begins to dress. You do up his buttons as he fastens his pants, then you help him with his waistcoat and jacket whilst he’s tying his bowtie. “When will these myopic men learn to keep their goddamn guns in their goddamn pants!?”
“Be safe,” you say, before giving him a goodbye kiss. When the doc opens the door Charlie catches a short glimpse of you, and raises his eyebrows before looking away. Amos stands in the doorway momentarily, looking at you, before he’s on his way to Bella Union, once again rushing to a mans aid. The camp truly couldn’t run without him, you think to yourself, and you couldn’t run without him either.
Once he’s gone you decide to get ready for the day, retrieving your dress from a table near his bed where the doc had laid it earlier. When you pick it up you realise that lying beneath the mass of fabric is the docs glasses, and he can’t do his work without them. You pick up your pace, dressing haphazardly before grabbing your cane and the docs glasses. You walk as fast as you can to Bella Union, which is to say not very fast. By the time you get to the establishment you can feel your pain flaring in you again, which was exactly the opposite of what you wanted. You push your way through the crowd at the door, which despite the early hour had accumulated rapidly, and once you’re inside you see a bloody mess lying on the floor. The poor man barely looks alive. The doc is crouched next to him on the floor, and you rush over, holding his glasses out in front of him.
“You forgot these doc,” you say quickly before stepping away again, trying to avoid the puddle of blood that was gushing further and further towards you.
“Thank you,” he replies, looking up to you as he puts them on before getting back to work. You lean up against one of the craps tables, standing close to Charlie as you watch on. It seems to you the poorly man doesn’t have much of a chance.
“So, you and the doc,” Charlie comments, quiet enough so others won’t hear.
“Yeah, me and the doc,” you reply, looking up at Charlie with a small smile. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t tell anyone just yet. I know gossip in Deadwood seems to have a mind of its own so I won’t blame you if it gets out but-“
“I’ll keep it to myself, you have my word,” he tells you, cutting you off before you have the chance to go on.
“Thank you Charlie,” you say, looking back to the doc and his patient. Amos is laying his head on the mans chest, trying to hear his breath and his heart. Doc Cochran rises, grabbing his medical bag.
“I’d guess the bullet pierced his lung, there wasn’t nothing I could do,” Amos explains to Cy. “Get him to my office so I can examine the body.”
The doc walks to the door and gestures for you to come with him.
“See you later Charlie,” you say as you follow the doc out through the crowd of people that was diminishing just as quickly as it accumulated, and as you’re leaving you hear the beginnings of Sheriff Bullock’s questioning. You place a hand over your abdomen as you walk through the bustling street to the docs place, trying to bare the growing pain as best you can. Practically as soon as you step inside the doc throws himself into one of his chairs, letting his eyes close.
“You’re exhausted,” you comment in a whisper, retrieving a bowl of clean water and a rag, bringing it over to him. You sit opposite Amos, placing the bowl in your lap as you take each of the docs hands, thoroughly cleaning the dead mans blood off of them. “I’m sorry he died. It must be hard seeing so many people die.”
“I’m used to it,” he replies, sighing deeply. “I just wish you hadn’t seen it.”
“I’m okay, I swear,” you say, and lay a kiss on his cheek. You put the bowl down on the floor beside you and move onto the docs lap. “If I wasn’t in so much pain right now I’d offer to go down on you,” you tell him, kissing down his neck. He lets out another deep sigh, letting his hands wander to your ass, which he gives a good squeeze. He’s on edge, unable to relax, and you just know the next person who shows up at his door is going to get a good talking to, on the docs account. He could really use a good blow.
“Later we can do whatever you want my dear,” he replies, caressing your face. Just as you begin to stand again there’s a knock on the door, and it begins to open. It’s one of Cy’s goons, pulling in the body of the dead man. You sit back down and watch on as the doc helps to load the body onto his medical table.
“Cy wants to see you,” the man says. Only when you look from the doc to the man do you realise he’s talking to you.
“Me?” you ask, slightly confused by the request. You think at first the man has confused you for someone else, but he nods in reply.
“Why?” the doc inquires. “Cy and (Y/N) haven’t even been introduced. She doesn’t know him.”
“He didn’t say.”
“I have to do my rounds at the Bella Union today anyway, we can go together,” the doc suggests, and you nod. The idea of going to see Cy with your lover makes you feel infinitely more comfortable, and infinitely less anxious.
“Cy said be prompt,” the man adds as he gets to the door, dragging the now empty sled behind him.
“Well tell Cy we’ll get there when we fucking get there!” the doc yells suddenly, and the man gets the point, nodding to the two of you before leaving.
“You think he’s gonna offer me a job? I wonder how much a fuck from me is worth,” you say in jest, teasing the doc with a cheeky smile, and concealing your concern about the invitation. The doc looks over to you from the body, a playfully unimpressed look on his face.
“If he does I’ll be sure to give him a piece of my mind,” the doc replies deadpan.
“You know how I like to tease you,” you say, biting your bottom lip as your smile grows. “It’s just too fun to resist.”
“I do. You’ll never let me alone,” he tells you, walking back over to you with he same drug he had given you earlier that morning, a loving smile on his face. “I’m gonna give you some of this each morning until your moons are done. It’ll help a lot with the pain, but I’d still recommend you rest for the next few days,” he explains, mixing it into water and giving the glass to you. You drink it down quickly.
“I’ll rest once I meet with this Cy Tolliver. Come on, let’s go, the anticipation is killing me!”
You begin your walk to the Bella Union with the doc, and he makes sure you take your time. You look to him as you walk, admiring his handsome face, his hair, and his quirky mannerisms. You can’t help but think about the care he takes with you, ensuring you’re comfortable, that you’re never pushing your body too far. You can feel butterflies rise in your stomach as you think about how much you care for him, and although you hadn’t told him yet, you’re also thinking about how much you love him. As you step onto the porch he turns to you.
“I have to tell you something,” you say as you step inside, Cy making a beeline for you.
“What?” the doc asks, serious as ever.
“I love you Amos,” you whisper into his ear just before Cy introduces himself to you, shaking your hand. The doc is left slightly stunned, and his gobsmacked look makes you laugh softly, your playful side showing. You realise that telling the doc you love him in a public place truly wasn’t the best idea you’d ever come up with, but you enjoy seeing the man sweat, and you just couldn’t keep your true feeling for the doc in anymore - at least this way he’d have time to think of a response. You’re not sure if he loves you or not, and even though you’d gotten to know him quite well since you first met him, some of his emotions still remained awfully cryptic to you. He was always far too good at keeping his feelings to himself. Whether he loves you or not, you think to yourself, it doesn’t change the way you feel about him in the slightest.
“I-I’ll start my rounds,” the doc says, shaking his head in disbelief as he walks off and up the stairs to examine Cy’s whores, the expression of shock still on his face.
“Pleasure to meet you Mr Tolliver,” you say once the doc has left, and he walks you over to the bar where he buys you a drink and offers you a seat. The Bella Union is mostly empty at this time in the morning, save a few beat looking men playing the craps and a few of his whores scattered around the place.
“Please, call me Cy,” he says with a smile that seems so phoney it makes your skin crawl. You’re starting to have a very bad feeling about how this meeting will unfurl.
“Well Cy, I’d sure appreciate it if you’d tell me why you called me down here. As far as I’m aware we’d never even laid eyes on one another ‘till that unfortunate event this morning, so I’m at a loss thinking about what we could possibly have to talk about,” you’re palpably standoffish, and you sip your drink as Cy begins to explain himself, his elbow leaning on the bar top.
“I heard you gave some of my whores a tarot reading...”
“Was that wrong of me?” you ask before he can go on, raising your eyebrows.
“My, you sure like to talk dear lady,” he comments with a laugh.
“I like it when men can get to the point quickly,” you retort, staring at him deadpan, never breaking eye contact. You can see you’ve begun to unnerve him slightly, and you’re might happy about that, but that doesn’t stop Cy from looking you over, his eyes stopping at your bulging breasts. You smile to yourself as you take another sip of your drink.
“Well, I have a business proposition for you Miss (Y/N); how would you like to do business out of this here establishment? We’d split the profits of course. I’d send good gambling men over to you, and you’d read them their good fortune, get them to play a few more games,” he explains, seeming extremely pleased with his idea.
“You want me to help you swindle men out of their money?” you ask, a disapproving look on your face.
“Well, in short, yes.”
“You’ve got me all wrong Cy,” you say, shaking your head. “Firstly, I don’t care about money enough to steal it from well meaning men, and secondly, I do not lie about peoples fortunes. The cards say what the cards say, and I can’t change that, no matter how much I might desire to do so. You should’ve gotten to know me before offering up such a scandalous proposal... but I do wish you well. I’m sure a tarot charlatan can be bought for a price much less than what I’d charge.”
“You certainly are a strong willed woman,” he comments with a rather sinister smile. “I don’t suppose I could offer you another job? I know men who’d pay a pretty penny to spend a few hours alone with you, me included.”
“Are you that desperate to have me around?” you ask, teasing him. You’re partly flattered by his proposal, but also partly creeped out. Something was definitely off about the man. Cy begins laying on the charm thick, in the hope of having you in his employ. He reaching his arm over to stroke your upper arm.
“Well, I’m not exactly sure I’d use the word desperate but-“ any vulgarity Cy had hoped to express is quashed in an instant when you feel someone wrap their sweaty dirty arm around your neck, yanking you backwards and out of your seat. You nearly fall to the floor, but the man steadies you, moving one arm so that it’s pressing into your chest, holding you tight to him. With his free hand he holds an abnormally sharp looking knife to your throat, just close enough to graze your skin.
“Amos!” you cry out, trying your hardest not to move your neck at all.
“Well now why don’t we just calm down,” Cy begins to speak to the man.
“Amos!” you scream again, as loud as you can this time, and you see him run out of one of the rooms and onto the balcony. When he sees you he can hardly believe his eyes. He knew when he heard you call him by his given name in public something wasn’t right, but he could never have imaged a situation as dire as this. His breath quickens as he rushes down the staircase, stopping in front of the bar beside Cy as the stranger begins to speak.
“If anyone moves she fucking dies! And if you shoot me I’ll be sure to cut her fucking throat on the way down! I want my fucking money back Cy! Fucking all of it, you cheating bastard!”
Your eyes begin to fill with tears, darting between Cy, the two men pointing shotguns at the man (although from your perspective it looks a lot like like they are pointing them at you), and your lover. Amos has gone completely pale.
“You know I can’t do that,” Cy replies cooly.
“Don’t fucking shoot him! Give him the goddamn fucking money Cy!” Amos yells, standing in place. His eyes don’t leave you, not for a millisecond. “It’ll be okay,” he mouthes to you, but you can’t help thinking that it really might not be. Playing over and over in Amos’ head as the situation unfolds is you admitting that you love him, and him saying nothing in reply. He can’t let you die, period... but he also can’t let you die without telling you how he truly feels. He can’t let you die without telling you that he loves you too.
“L-listen,” you begin to plead, but at the sound of your voice the man pulls you closer to him, squeezing you like a python. Your breathing becomes laboured, and you suddenly feel his hard cock pushing up against your ass. The sick bastard, you think to yourself, getting off on torturing you. “Listen!” you scream. “I’ll get you your money.”
“I don’t want your fucking money, whore, I want his money,” he replies, gesturing to Cy.
“How much money do you want? I-I’ll give it to you! I’ll-” you stop speaking when the pressure of the knife against your neck becomes too much. A bead of blood flows from your neck down your chest, a small cut now present on your larynx.
“Get my fucking money Cy! Get my fucking money! Right this goddamn second!” the man is hysterical now, jerking about, and with every movement another small cut is made on your neck. You begin to sob, tears stinging your eyes and rolling down your cheeks. They’re blurring your vision. You can hardly see the docs face anymore.
“Cy, get the goddamn money!” the doc yells again. He feels the overwhelming urge to tell you he loves you, but he holds back. He doesn’t want you to think this is goodbye. He needs to get you out of this alive, so he can tell you later.
“Okay, okay. I’ll get you what you want,” Cy concedes, instructing Joanie, who is watching from upstairs, to open his safe. “How much do I owe you?” he asks.
“Five thousand dollars!” the man replies, and as he speaks he lifts his knife just millimetres away from your skin, the adrenaline of the situation getting to him, giving one of Cy’s skilled marksmen the opportunity to shoot the greedy bastard right between the eyes. When the man falls to the floor he takes you with him, his knife cutting across your throat. The doc runs over to you, medical bag in hand. He rolls you over onto your back, and you’re passed out, blood gushing from your neck. He places a clean rag over the cut, applying pressure to it.
“I love you too,” the docs says to you, kneeled down beside you. “I love you (Y/N).”
Cy and one of his men place you on the sled per the docs instructions, dragging you back to the docs place. Amos is bent down beside you the whole way there, his bloodied hand on your neck as he continues applying pressure to the wound. He thinks the cut looks shallow enough that you won’t die, but he can’t be sure just yet. All he can do is pray for now...
---
You wake in the docs bed. It’s dark, save a few ark lamps illuminating part of the room and the light of the full moon beaming in from one of the windows. Your head is pounding, and you can’t for the life of you remember how you ended up where you are. Suddenly, like a punch in the face, everything comes back to you, and you begin to cry, reaching for your incredibly tender neck which had been sutured and wrapped in a cotton bandage. The doc had fallen asleep in a chair next to the bed, a bowl of cold water with a rag in it laying on his lap. You reach over and tap on his leg to get his attention, immediately waking him.
“I’m relieved to see you awake, you had me goddamn worried,” he says, feeling your forehead with the back of his hand, taking your temperature. “No fever, good, means there’s no infection yet,” he tells you, entering full doctor mode. You go to speak, but he stops you. “You’ve been hurt, it’ll be too painful for you to talk,” he explains to you whilst stroking your hair. “It might please you to know that the man who did this is dead as a doornail, although I know that’s no consolation for the pain you’re in...” he pauses for a moment, staring at you with an intensity you hadn’t seen from him before. “I... oh hell (Y/N), I love you, and I goddamn need you to know that,” he confesses. His words elicit a smile from you, even through your tears.
“I love you too,” you mouth to him. You see tears forming in his eyes for the second time that day, but this time you also see them fall. The pain on his face is so strong you almost need to turn away. You reach up, cupping his face in your hands. You want to bare your soul to him. You want to tell him everything you admire about him, everything he did that made you fall in love with him, but you can’t, so for the time being your loving gaze will have to suffice.
“You’ve had some visitors,” he says as he begins to pull himself together, wiping his face with a rag. “Joanie came in to see how you were about an hour ago, told me Merrick and Charlie were waiting outside for news of your health, and that Jewell was ready to offer me help if I needed it. I hear even Farnum stopped by for a while... I must admit it makes me happy knowing you’ve made such good friends here in Deadwood, not only because I know you deserve to have all the loyal goodhearted friends your heart desires, but also because it gives me hope that you’ll stay here with me,” he takes a deep breath. “I’d go anywhere with you, absolutely anywhere, if it weren’t for the fact that the people of Deadwood rely on me to be here for them... I’d better go tell everyone you’re awake and that you’ll be just fine,” he finishes bearing his heart, laying a kiss on your forehead before going outside to give your friends the good news. You can hear Merrick’s jolly rejoices even from inside.
“Oh! Marvellous! Marvellous! I truly am relieved! I’ll write about this in my newspaper to let everyone in camp know that (Y/N) will be alright!”
“Don’t do that, she wouldn’t like that,” the doc replies seriously, and Merrick just nods in reply as he begins to walk back to his office.
“I’ll let Cy know she’s okay,” Joanie says to the doc.
“Would you be so kind as to go to the inn to fetch (Y/N)’s other dress? No rush, just bring it by tomorrow, the one she’s wearing is all bloody,” the doc asks Joanie, and she nods, happy to help in any way.
“Sure doc, no problem.”
The doc enters back into his home, and when he turns to you you mouth thank you to him. You begin to try to sit up, but the doc rushes over to you, laying you back down.
“You’re probably feeling light headed from the blood you lost and the fall you took, it’ll be best if you just rest. You relax whilst I get you out of your dress,” he says as he begins to delicately undress you. He sits you up at one point, to remove your corset, but you get so woozy you almost pass out again. “Okay now, you just try to get back to sleep. I’ll be right here, and tomorrow when you wake you’ll feel better than you do now, I can promise you that,” he tells you gently, holding and stroking your hand as he sits beside the bed again. You close your eyes and fall asleep almost instantly, with the last thing you hear before you begin to dream being Amos whispering “I love you,” to you one more time. You wake the next day around midday, checking the docs watch which he had left for you beside the bed. When you look around the room you don’t see your lover anywhere, however you do see Jane, who seems to be talking to the dead fellow who had been cut open and autopsied by the doc.
“Jane,” you rasp, getting her attention.
“Good, you’re finally fucking awake,” she replies, walking over to you. “I thought you were gonna sleep all fucking day!”
“Where’s Amos?” you ask, sitting up slightly and squinting your eyes as they begin to adjust to the light.
“Amos? You mean the doc?” she asks, and you nod. “He was called away, probably to save some poor cocksuckers life, wouldn’t even agree to go until I agreed to stay here with you! Never seen him so goddamn fucking worried in my life! Told me to tell you he’ll be back as soon as he fucking can and to not let you stand up or goddamn speak.”
“Well we’d better keep this to ourselves then,” you say with a sad smile on your face. You reach out for Jane’s hand, and she helps you to sit up all the way and swing your legs over the bed.
“Jesus, you really don’t look too fucking good,” she comments, and you furrow your brows at her, giving her a warning look. “Hey, don’t fucking get mad at me I’m just telling you the goddamn fucking truth,” she retorts, then rises, fetching you some water. As you’re drinking the doc walks back in with his medical bag in one hand and a paper bag in the other. He walks right over to you, crouching down in front of you, and places both bags on the floor beside him. You take his hands in yours, kissing his lips a few times. Jane’s eyes widen as she watches the two of you, eventually looking away.
“I’m sorry I left, fucking Dan shot someone in the goddamn fucking leg and I had to dig the goddamn bullet out,” he explains in a huff. “And I picked up something on the way back,” he picks up the paper bag, handing it to you before he stands again, sitting on the bed beside you.
“I got you some dried apricots, which I know you love. They’re high in iron, they’ll feed your blood,” he says, then glares over to Jane. “Will you kindly leave?” he asks, already beginning to become irritated by her. You can tell he just wants to be alone with you.
“You don’t have to tell me twice. I don’t want to be around all this fucking lovey dovey shit!” she replies, walking to the door.
“Thank you for looking over me Jane,” you say quietly.
“No need to thank me, and if it means anything to you, if the cocksucker who did this to you wasn’t already fucking dead I’d have killed him myself! And I would have made it fucking slow and fucking painful!”
“Jane!” the doc yells, his patience waning.
“I’m fucking leaving Cochran! Jesus fucking christ!” she exclaims, finally leaving the docs residence. You laugh lightly at their outbursts. It is evident how much they like each other, but somehow they just never seemed to be able to get along for very long.
“Did you want to tell me something?” you ask in a whisper. Every word you spoke, every muscle you moved in your neck made the pain slightly worse, but talking softly helped to alleviate that pain slightly.
“You shouldn’t be talking,” the doc replies, concern written on his face.
“Try and stop me,” you reply with a mischievous smirk, trying to lighten the mood. The doc reaches into his jacket, pulling out a silver pocket watch, intricately carved and attached to a necklace chain.
“I sent for this a while ago, and Charlie informed me just now that it had finally come in the mail. I thought you needed a watch of your own, and I wanted to give you something special,” he says, then places it around your neck.
“Oh Amos, I... I don’t know what to say... I absolutely love it,” you tell him, inspecting it and smiling from ear to ear. When you open the watch you see that there are some words inscribed on the inside. “Yours always, Amos,” you read it aloud, tears welling in your eyes. “This is the most beautiful thoughtful gift I’ve ever been given. I don’t know how I can thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me,” he says. The doc opens his mouth to speak again, but closes it before he says anything.
“What is it?” you ask, concern evident in your voice. You take his hand in yours.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you this for some time now... I... I’d like you to move in with me,” he finally says. “I’ve been thinking of building an extension of this building to make it a real home, with a private bedroom and a nice kitchen... and,” he pauses, taking a deep breath. “It would be my honour if you’d marry me, if you’d be my bride. That would just make me the happiest man in the world.”
“Yes,” you reply as soon as he finishes speaking. “Yes to both, yes to everything. My god Amos I love you so much!” you wrap your arms around him, and he does the same, careful not to touch your neck. You pull away and kiss him passionately, not ending the kiss for a few minutes. When you finally disconnect from his lips you can’t stop smiling, and neither can he. “Merrick is going to die when I tell him he can announce our engagement in his paper,” you comment with a laugh, eliciting a soft chuckle from the doc. The sound of his joy is ecstasy to your ears.
#deadwood#deadwood fic#deadwood fanfic#deadwood fanfiction#doctor cochran#doc cochran#doctor amos cochran#doc cochran fanfic#doc cochran fic#doc cochran x reader#doc cochran fanfiction#doctor cochran fanfic#doctor cochran fic#doctor cochran x reader#brad dourif#brad dourif fanfic#brad dourif fic#brad dourif fanfiction#brad dourif x reader
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BRAD DOURIF MASTERLIST
[masterlist of all BRAD DOURIF character fics !! anything labelled with * has mild to explicit nsfw content and prompt fills may be nsfw but contain the appropriate warnings on their own post]
Charles Lee Ray (Child’s Play (1988))
can’t stand to see him walk out the door
i hope the worst isn’t over (part 1)*, (part 2)*, (part 3)*, (part 4)*, (part 5)*
i want blood, guts and chocolate cake *
you can be my daddy *
anytime i know you’re needing *
miscellaneous
vain just like you * – nica!chucky
halloween prompt fills -- (1) (2) (3)
winter prompt fills -- (1) (2)
valentine prompt fills -- (1)
summer prompt fills -- (1) (2) (3)
Jack Dante (Death Machine (1994))
i see you only at night
any way you want it *
that’s the way you need it *
hand in mine, into your icy blues *
not that kinda girl *
boys and their toys
normally we’re making out *
all the other kids (part 1), (part 2), (part 3), (part 4) and (part 5)*
got the room to spare *
valentine prompt fills -- (1) (2)
Tommy Ludlow (The Eyes of Laura Mars (1978))
baby, it’s okay, someday (part 1), (part 2)*, (part 3), (part 4)*, (part 5), (part 6), (part 7)* (part 7: alt ver.), (part 8), (part 9) and (part 10)
alright, hold tight *
halloween prompt fills -- (1)
winter prompt fills -- (1) (2)
valentine prompt fills -- (1)
summer prompt fills -- (1) (2)
Sheriff Brackett (Rob Zombie’s Halloween)
it’s you and me
i waste my time dreaming of you (part 1)*, (part 2)*, (part 3)*, (part 4), (part 5)*
unwritten rule
halloween prompt fills -- (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)
winter prompt fills -- (1)
valentine prompt fills -- (1) (2) (3)
summer prompt fills -- (1)
Grima Wormtongue (The Lord of the Rings (2001 - 2003))
his same old safe bet (part 1)* and (part 2)*
valentine prompt fills -- (1) (2)
Doc Cochran (Deadwood 2004 - 2006)
the ghost of you, it keeps me awake (part 1), (part 2)
valentine prompt fills -- (1)
Billy Bibbit (One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (1975))
halloween prompt fills -- (1) (2) (3) (4)
winter prompt fills -- (1)
summer prompt fills -- (1)
James Venamun "The Gemini Killer" (The Exorcist III (1990))
there's no confessing of the sins
Tucker Cleveland (Graveyard Shift (1990))
valentine prompt fills -- (1)
Leo Nova (Fatal Beauty (1987))
summer prompt fills -- (1)
#charles lee ray#jack dante#sheriff brackett#doc cochran#grima wormtongue#lucifer morningstar#lucifer netflix#tommy ludlow#reader insert fanfiction#masterlist
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💀 ANNA'S NICHE CONTENT 💀
💌 ASK BOX is ALWAYS OPEN to CHAT ABOUT and DISCUSS CHARACTERS, IDEAS and HEADCANONS 💌
❌however, REQUESTS are CLOSED ❌
HELL YEAH, ALL MY MASTERLISTS ARE HERE:
** PLEASE HEED ALL WARNINGS ATTACHED TO FICS **
BRAD DOURIF MASTERLIST (ft. chucky, jack, sheriff, doc, grima, tommy, billy, tucker, james)
HOUSE OF WAX (2005) MASTERLIST (ft. bo and vincent, though lester makes an appearance or two)
HALLOWEEN ('78 & H40) MASTERLIST (ft. corey and michael)
MISC. HORROR MASTERLIST (ft. otis, baby, chop top and beetlejuice)
ASSORTED MASTERLIST (ft. kylo, lucifer, olaf and dewey)
CHUCKY AND CAZ VS. THE WORLD MASTERLIST (charles lee ray and carrie white au)
AO3 (please boost my stats there lol)
CURRENT CHARACTERS: corey cunningham, michael myers ('78/H40), assorted characters played by rohan campbell
PAST CHARACTERS: bo sinclair, vincent sinclair, lester sinclair, chop top sawyer, otis driftwood, musical!beetlejuice, charles lee ray, jack dante, billy bibbit, sheriff brackett, tommy ludlow, grima wormtongue, tucker cleveland and doc cochran.
#pinned#fanfiction#fanfic author#fic rec#reader insert fanfiction#canon x canon#corey cunningham#michael myers#bo sinclair#vincent sinclair#jack dante#sheriff brackett#charles lee ray#brad dourif#alex brightman#doc cochran#beetlejuice#tommy ludlow#grima wormtongue#carrie white#chop top sawyer#otis driftwood
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i waste my time dreaming of you (part 4)
sheriff brackett x f!reader. the awkward morning after chapter. but sheriff is way to nice to let you be worried. WARNING for cringe but nothing else.
The morning light streamed in through the open curtains. A watery light that seemed to move around you.
Squinting tiredly, you froze for a second in this unfamiliar place, until you remembered where you were. Sheriff Brackett’s bed.
You weren’t really sure what to do. This wasn’t a one-night stand, right? You didn’t have to quietly gather your things and politely leave before he woke up. Right?
Shifting to lie on your back, you kept your breathing shallow, as not to wake him before you had fully got your thoughts in check. What were you supposed to do now?
You decided to wait it out. You’d pretend to be asleep until he woke up, and then just roll with it, as though this wasn’t the first time you’d woken up in someone else’s bed, even though he knew full well that it was.
You looked around the room as much as you could without moving too much. There was a stack of folded brown shirts on the chair in the corner. A worn paperback on the night stand. His reading glasses. Two neat stacks of quarters. Alarm clock (10:30 AM). The empty condom wrapper. A framed school picture of Annie.
You looked back at the ceiling.
After a while, you genuinely did almost drift back to sleep, the warmth of the bed and the pale morning light having a lulling effect on you. You were woken again by the Sheriff stirring beside you.
Any confidence you gained last night immediately dissipated. You felt Lee turn over, looking at you.
“Good morning.”
You turned your head, meeting his gaze briefly before looking just over his shoulder instead, “Good morning.”
“How are you feeling?” he asked gently.
“I’m okay.” You felt a little sore, but otherwise, you were fine. You felt sort… liberated? Like a huge weight had been lifted from you. Not because you’d finally had sex, no that was the last thing that mattered, but because you’d somehow ended up here, and Lee had been so sweet, and for the first time your love was not unrequited.
“Sweetie,” Lee started, and you sensed he was maybe worried.
You looked at him properly, a smile creeping over your face.
“I am okay, I’m great. I’m just a bit,” you laughed, a little embarrassed, “I guess I’m sort of star struck.”
Lee raised his eyebrows in mild surprise, “You don't have to win me over with flattery, sweetie. You’ve already had me won over for a long time.”
Looking away again, you felt a blush rise on your cheeks.
His hand reached out slowly to stroke your cheek.
“It’s true. I’m a lucky man to be chosen by you.”
“Stop,” you giggled, your hand covering his before you moved it, lacing your fingers through his.
He smiled lightly, “How about we make some breakfast?”
“Do you not have to go to work?” you asked. You’d just kind of assumed that, as Sheriff, he never had days off.
“Surprisingly enough,” he began, swinging his legs out of bed and reaching for his boxers. “Even as Sheriff, I do get some time off, too.”
You followed suit with getting dressed, quickly finding your panties and bra. Feeling exposed, you searched for the rest of your clothes, even though the skirt and top you’d worn the previous night weren’t the most comfortable for a casual breakfast.
Lee noticed you hesitate and, pulling a t-shirt on he said, “I can lend you some more comfortable clothes for today, if you would like, sweetie?”
“Only if you don’t mind.”
“Of course I don't, it’s the least I can do.”
He went over to the dresser and pulled out two pairs of pyjamas pants and a t-shirt. He hands the pyjama set to you and pulls on the other pants.
Holding his clothes for a second, you thought about all the clichés that were strangely coming true. Nice sex. Clothes sharing. Breakfast?
Quickly, you got dressed, pulling the drawstring on the pants tight to hold them up.
“So, breakfast,” Lee said again, as you both headed downstairs, “Now, I’m not much of a cook, but what can I perhaps tempt you with?”
“Whatever you want,” you said. Normally you didn’t eat breakfast, you’d stopped doing so in high school (with early mornings not being conducive to your appetite) and it had stuck around as a habit. “I should probably let my parents know that I won’t be home till later on.”
Lee almost seemed embarrassed, cringing for a second before relaxing, as not to worry you. “Of course, sweetie. I’ll get started on the,” he pauses for dramatic effect, “Toast and jelly?”
You laugh as you search for your cell phone in your coat pocket, “Sounds divine.”
Sending a text to your mom, letting her know you’d likely be home that afternoon at the earliest, you put your cell back in your coat and joined Lee in the kitchen.
As promised, he was making toast, a few slices already done and put on a plate whilst more cooked in the toaster.
“There’s butter and jelly in the fridge, if you want to get it?” he suggested, getting a knife from one of the kitchen drawers.
“Sure,” you replied absently. You had to psyche yourself up while your back was turned to him before saying “I told my mom I wouldn’t be home till this afternoon.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” you returned to the counter with the butter and jelly, strawberry flavour, “So I can stay here for quite a while.”
“I can’t say I'm disappointed by the company. Especially on my day off.”
You smiled at his flattery.
***
Together you ate breakfast, which felt like something of a novelty to you. You buttered your toast lavishly, enjoying the warm domesticity it stirred within you.
After eating, you sat for a while, your legs slung over his lap, in the living room. Daytime TV played idly in the background as you and Lee talked. Talked about your jobs and what you had been reading lately and that you had started to think about what you maybe wanted to do in life.
“You’ll figure it out,” the Sheriff said sincerely, his hand running over your calf reassuring. “I didn’t know what I wanted to do for a long time.”
“You didn’t always want to be Sheriff?”
“No, no,” he shrugged, “My dad was Sheriff, back in his day, and I didn’t have much of anything going on so I joined and now, here I am.”
“That is pretty reassuring.”
He seemed satisfied by your answer. You wasted away some more time just sitting comfortably together until lunch time rolled around. Lee reiterated that he wasn’t much of a chef, and you laughed, agreeing that sandwiches were more than good enough for you.
As you stood at the counter, buttering slices of bread, Lee said, “Sweetie, I think we should talk about what’s going on here.”
That didn’t sound good?
“What do you mean?” you asked. The worry in your voice was apparently more evident than you thought it would be, as Lee’s eyes widened in a mild panic.
“Oh no, sweetie, nothing bad. I just mean, I have… enjoyed our time together, very much. But I want you to know that you don't have to feel obliged to – to do anything. See me again, I mean.”
It was almost funny how relieved you were, but you quickly replied, as to not make him think you were reconsidering. “I definitely want to see you again. I’d be happy if I only ever saw you again.”
He chuckled bashfully, but there was a deepness to his voice when he said, “You don't know what that does to me, hearing you say that.”
You stopped what you were doing in the sandwich preparing sense and looked over at him. This was a sign, right? “I think I do.”
#sheriff brackett x reader#sheriff brackett#brad dourif#brad dourif x reader#reader insert fanfiction#halloween 2007#rob zombie's halloween#sheriff continues to be the real sweetie here#and who doesnt love a fluffy breakfast chapter#hope yall still enjoy this series#i was very happy after the last ask that someone did specifically enjoy it !!#and as promised my doc cochran fic will be out soon#i waste my time dreaming of you#it's you and me
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the ghost of you, it keeps me awake (part 1)
doc cochran x f!reader. here it is. my sort of first request, in a way. doc is so lovely! i'm sorry for all the exposition but is it even possible to have anything other than a slow burn with a man like doc?
You first met Doc Cochran, properly, when your mother took ill.
Despite all the evidence to suggest otherwise, your father had heard about the gold rush in the Black Hills, and decided it was a good idea to move to the camp of Deadwood, bringing with him you and your mother.
Deadwood was not a civilised town. Few families stayed for very long, even considering the camp had only been established for a few month. Most men travelled there alone and had yet to make a fortune substantial enough to send for their wives and children.
But, in your father’s footsteps you followed, having not yet married, and took up residence in a boarding house with your parents.
Your father could not be described as a lucky man. After just a few months in Deadwood, he died in a prospecting accident.
With no other way to support yourself, you took over the claim your father owned and continued prospecting, turning in the gold to Al Swearengen for a fair enough sum.
It was enough to keep you going, until your mother took ill. Besides when your father died, you’d never had reason to converse with Doctor Cochran (the only physician in town) and that was a particularly brief conversation, merely the Doctor examining your father’s body on its way to the undertaker. At the time, you were in a much too delicate state to notice much of anything about the proceedings, beyond the Doctor’s kindly condolences and tipped hat.
When your mother began to cough, a dreadful rattling cough, you sent immediately for Dr. Cochran. You knew better than to wait, your grandmother had died not two years ago of consumption.
“Dr Cochran?” you inquired, knocking gently on the door of his surgery. There was no answer. You pushed at the door and it opened slightly. Peering into the dim surgery, you called again, “Doctor?”
A rustling sound came from the back of the room, behind the shelves lined with bottles and tins. The Doctor appeared, wiping his hands on a white rag, “Yes, yes, yes,” he said impatiently, before looking up to see who had entered. “Oh, Miss (Y/L/N), what brings you here?”
“I’m afraid my mother is ill. I think it might be consumption.”
His face softened, “Well, I can come and examine her, one moment.” He returned to the back of the surgery, before coming back in his coat and hat, leather bag held tight in his hand. He led you swiftly out the door, following you back to your room to see your mother.
You waited outside, hearing your mother’s coughs through the door.
When the Doctor came out again, he looked hesitant to reveal is diagnosis.
“I’m sorry to tell you Miss, but your mother definitely has tuberculosis. And I’m afraid it may be far worse than she appears from the outside.”
You’re face fell. It’s not like you had expected good news, but someone else, the Doctor, putting into words your worst fears, that you’d be losing your mother too, hit you far harder than you could have imagined.
“Thank you, Doctor,” you said anyway, taking out your coin purse for the $3 you owed him.
“Free of charge,” he waved you away, “I’ve not been put out, and I’m stopping by the Gem next anyway.”
“Doctor, I can’t –,” you tried to protest, you couldn’t let him work for free.
“I insist, Miss (Y/L/N),” placing his hat back on his head, he bid you farewell, carrying his case in front of him as he descended the stairs of the boarding house.
Over the next few months, you saw the Doctor – Doc – more frequently. Calling on him when you couldn’t adequately care for your mother, or simply to converse with him. He was an interesting man, you thought.
#doc cochran x reader#doc cochran#brad dourif x reader#brad dourif#deadwood#deadwood hbo#reader insert fanfiction#slow burn#the ghost of you it keeps me awake#plz let me know if yall like this !! i want to do doc justice as its the first character anyone has asked for :)))
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Being a huge Brad Dourif fan myself, reading your fiction has been a pleasure for sure. Love the Sheriff Bracket series! Any chance of a Doc Cochran fic?
💓 Ah thank you so much, i'm so glad you've been enjoying my work!!
i've really enjoyed writing sheriff brackett (and hopefully there is more to come) and all the brad dourif fans here are so supportive (including yourself, thanks again for taking to time to drop an ask 😊)
i've not seen deadwood yet, but i'm starting it this weekend, so hopefully i will get to grips with doc soon and will have something written for you! if you have any ideas feel free to share, it might help kick-start my writing flow 💜
if anyone has any other ideas they want to share, feel free to hmu, i'm also down to chat about my fics or anything re: brad ✌
#ask#brad dourif#brad dourif x reader#doc cochran#deadwood#reader insert fanfiction#thank you all for your support#yall are always so nice and the fact that people keep up with my work is v heartwarming#yall are the reason i keep writing honestly#ask box is always open and i am always ready to talk aboit brad and hear your opinions on my fics and ideas i could work wirh in future !!
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behind the scenes: okay so i've finished the first season of deadwood and i am loving doc's character! he really just doesn't take anyone's shit!
i'll probably watch 2&3 before i post anything, though i have a lot of exposition (i'm sorry all my first chapters are so exposition heavy) already written for how reader would meet doc.
#doc cochran#doc cochran x reader#deadwood#brad dourif#brad dourif x reader#fanfiction behind the scenes#doc is so cynical but he is such a sweetheart#i say that about all of brads characters but doc really is a sweetheart#and people respect him#like they should !!#and he's so nice to all of the girls at the gem#plz hmu with opinions about doc and head canons or anything because i need more content to fuel my love
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