Absolutely love your writing! Everytime you post, I get so excited :) Could I request a John Dutton fic where the reader finally gets to the point where she dares to tell him she loves him. And he rejects her at first, because he of course still loves his wife as well. But then eventually he apologises and they make up? Can be angsty if you’d want :)
I've Waited For You Forever
Hey there Anonymous asker, thank you so much for saying such a nice thing about my writing. I really enjoy seeing comments like this 😁 here's your request I hope you like it
Tags [ @kmc1989 @tallrock35 @pear-1206 @child-of-of-the-sunshine
Comments or reblogs with your thoughts are always welcome ❤️
Nobody plans to break up someone else’s marriage.
People just fall out of love with each other, that’s all - or at least that’s what I started telling myself when I ran into my best friend John Dutton from high school one day when the sheriff and I got a call from him saying that his daughter Beth had gotten drunk at a bar and she’s only sixteen.
The drive to the Bozeman bar was quiet between me and sheriff Haskell. I had just started working alongside him as his deputy after working as his receptionist for a few years before he finally gave me my current job. That night when I stepped out of the police car the wind blew some of my hair in front of my eyes making me distracted as his gruff voice met my ears. “Y/n, well I’ll be. The badge looks good on you.”
“It’s been a while hasn’t it, Commissioner Dutton.” Tying my loose hair up into a messy ponytail I nervously smiled up at him.
John strides up to me in his signature light brown jacket with white fur on the shoulders and around his neck. A thick black vest underneath that jacket and some dirty blue jeans and muddy brown boots. Completed with his familiar dark brown cowboy hat planted on his head - a true cowboy always stood in front of me every time I interacted with him.
And I have to admit that I always have a thing for cowboys - especially him.
I know what you’re thinking Y/n. You live in Montana and are surrounded by cowboys and ranchers your whole life. How could you not want one for yourself? But in my case that’s only half of the massive crush I have had on my best friend for years.
John simply has a seemingly intense and intriguing personality about him that draws me in. He has always been extremely loyal to keeping his family’s ranch alive and his family name intact in Montana. He yearns to develop a deep family connection with his wife Evelyn and their children Lee, Jaime, Beth and Kayce. And truthfully be told I wished it was me the one calling him husband the day he married Evelyn.
Sheriff Haskell shut his car door walking past me and his friend, focusing his attention on the sixteen year old girl who was puking in the parking lot of the bar. “We’ll take her to the station and get her some water and a change of clothes. And don’t worry about charges, I’ll let this one slide.” He went over to young Bethany helping her up from the ground and getting her into the backseat of the police car, leaving me and John alone for a brief moment.
John simply nodded his head in understanding, keeping his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. His intense gaze shifted back on me. “I meant what I said earlier. I always knew you’d look good wearing a badge.”
“That’s high praise coming from you, Commissioner."
He sent me a genuine smile the next time he spoke to me. “You don’t have to call me Commissioner, Y/n. You know me as well as my wife, hell maybe even better than she does.”
“Oh I don’t know about that-“ Kicking some gravel with one of my boots.
John focused his gaze on mine and forced me to look into his eyes once he raised a hand and tilted my chin up so I’d look him in the eye. “I am. You are one of the few who gets to call me John.”
“J-John.” I breathed out feeling my cheeks heating up by how physically close we were. I wanted to say more than that but I knew I shouldn’t - correction couldn’t. I couldn’t break up his marriage with Evelyn and possibly ruin my lifelong friendship with him. So I’d just bite my lip and keep quiet.
God, how wrong I was about that.
Not two months later I was sitting on his front porch at 1am cuddling up with him on the swing underneath a blanket while Evelyn and his kids were sleeping right inside the main house. I wasn’t supposed to be at his ranch this late. But the night we brought Beth back he asked me to stay for a few hours and I couldn't say no to him. We both knew if Evelyn caught us she'd lose it and likely cause so much shit around Montana.
Playing with the blanket I muttered out into the air, not daring to look him in the eye as I spoke. “John, can I ask you something?”
“Sure. Anything.”
I paused, taking in a long breath searching for the right next words to voice. Starting from seventh grade in middle school I started having a massive crush on the rancher sitting beside me and he still doesn’t know that I love him after all these years. Shifting my body so I was facing him more directly with us both sitting side by side on the swing I uttered the words for the first time. “I love you, John.”
“I love you too, Y/n.” He responded but I knew by his tone that he meant it as my best friend and not the other way around.
“I mean more than a best friend, John.” I stutter out finally focusing my attention up to meet his intense gaze. “I have for a long time actually - I have since our sophomore year of high school but was too afraid you’d reject me after you started spending so much time with Evelyn. And I know now isn’t a good time to be telling you this after you’ve married and have four beautiful children- it’s just - I can’t keep this secret anymore.”
John blankly stared at me for so long creating the most uncomfortable tension I have felt and I almost got shot at my job on my very first day. His eyes focused on me but he didn’t say anything which made me begin to get sick over how uncomfortable and awkward I had just made our relationship. And the next words that flew from my mouth cut through the nerve wracking silence so thick you could cut it with a knife. “John, please say something cause I can’t have you lookin’ at me like I just spit in your coffee.”
“I don’t - I don’t know what you really want me to say here, Y/n.” He shrugged his shoulders in response.
Feeling tears beginning to well up in the corners of my eyes I struggle to keep my voice from cracking up in the process. “Just say how you feel.”
“I - I’m - I’m sorry Y/n. I - I don’t feel the same way.”
“Why the hell not!” Clasping my hands over my mouth I gasped in horror when I realized what I just said. Jumping up from the swing I began backing away from him seeing how my emotions were getting the better of me.
John began explaining softly. “I’m married to Evelyn. We have been together for years and have children together.”
“Then what the hell has been going on between us for years, John!” Throwing my hands up in the air I raised my tone at the cowboy. “What were all the late night phone calls after Bea Norris broke your heart in fifth grade, or all the times you would get jealous when another guy would try to talk to me, or how about when we accidentally shared our first kiss with each other after falling down from the haystacks in the barn loft. Did none of that mean anything to you?”
My voice cracked on the last word, and I felt the first hot tear escape, trailing down my cheek. The air between us was suddenly heavy with unshed words, unspoken feelings, and a decade of shared history that he seemed to brush off like dust from his hat. I watched him, searching his eyes for even a flicker of the confusion or longing that was tearing me apart, but all I saw was a deep, unreadable sadness.
“Y/n…” he started, his voice a low rumble, but he trailed off, rubbing a hand across his jaw. He looked away, out towards the sprawling, silent ranch, as if the darkness held the answers he couldn’t give me. “It meant, it meant a lot. You know that. You’re my best friend. Always have been.”
“And that’s enough for you?” My voice was barely a whisper now, hollowed out by the pain. “Just ‘best friend’?”
He turned back to me, his gaze finally meeting mine, and I saw a flicker of something, perhaps regret, perhaps a terrible weariness. “It has to be, Y/n. I made a promise. I have a family.” His eyes drifted towards the house, where four sleeping children, his children, lay oblivious to the quiet devastation unfolding on their porch. “My life is here. With them.”
The words were a hammer blow. My throat tightened, and I couldn’t speak. I just nodded, a slow, jerky motion, trying to hold myself together. My mind raced, searching for an escape, a way to disappear from this moment, this ranch, this whole damn county. How could I have been so foolish? So utterly blind to the reality of his life, to the solidity of his choices?
“I-I should go,” I managed, backing away further, my foot finding the edge of the porch.
“Y/n, wait.” He reached out, but I flinched, pulling back as if burned. The raw hurt must have shown clearly on my face because his hand dropped, his expression twisting in genuine pain. “Please, don’t… don’t let this ruin things between us. You’re too important.”
“Important?” A bitter laugh escaped my lips, devoid of humor. “You just broke my heart, John, and you want me to pretend like it didn’t happen? Like we can just go back to sharing secrets on the porch?” The idea was unbearable. My best friend, the man I loved, had just told me unequivocally that he didn’t love me back, not in the way I needed, not in the way I’d dreamed. How could I ever look at him, at his family, the same way again?
Without another word, I turned and stumbled off the porch, feeling the cold night air sting my face. I didn’t look back, didn’t respond to his soft “Y/n, please.” I just walked, faster and faster, until I was practically running to my patrol car parked discreetly down the lane. The engine roared to life, a discordant symphony to my shattered emotions, and I sped away, leaving the Yellowstone behind, leaving him, and leaving a piece of myself on that damn porch swing.
The next few months were a blur of work and deliberate avoidance. Sheriff Haskell noticed my quietness, the new intensity in my movements, but he was wise enough not to pry. I buried myself in my duties, chasing down petty thieves, mediating neighborly disputes, and filling out endless paperwork. It was a good distraction, a shield against the aching void in my chest. I saw John, of course. Montana wasn’t that big. Our paths crossed at the county office, at livestock auctions, even sometimes on the road as I patrolled and he drove his truck, a blur of familiar dark blue against the golden fields. Each sighting was a fresh stab, a reminder of what I had confessed and what I had lost. He’d try to meet my eyes, sometimes offer a small, hesitant nod, but I’d turn away, focusing on a report, on the horizon, on anything but him. I couldn’t be his ‘best friend’ if it meant watching him live the life I craved, with the woman he’d chosen.
Word trickled through the grapevine about the Duttons. Evelyn, ever the stoic, was even more withdrawn than usual. The ranch hands whispered about late-night arguments, about John spending more time in the fields, working himself to exhaustion. I saw it too. His face, already etched with the responsibility of the ranch, seemed even heavier, shadowed by a burden I couldn't name. He looked tired, perpetually so, and sometimes, just sometimes, I’d catch him looking at me across a crowded room, a raw, searching look that made my breath hitch.
I fought it. I told myself it was guilt, regret, nothing more. He made his choice. I had to make mine – to move on. I even went on a few dates, awkward dinners with men who were perfectly nice but couldn't hold a candle to the ghost of a cowboy in my heart. They’d talk about small-town gossip, about their cattle, about the weather, and all I could hear was the echo of John’s voice, the memory of his hand lifting my chin. It was hopeless.
One blustery afternoon, a call came over the radio: a small plane went down deep in the backcountry, near the Dutton border. Search and Rescue was mobilizing, and Haskell wanted me on the ground. When I arrived at the staging area, John was already there, his face grim, coordinating with the SAR team. It was his land, his responsibility. Our eyes met across the chaotic scene, and this time, I didn't look away. There was no awkwardness, no pretense. Just the shared urgency of the moment. He walked over, his usual cowboy stride purposeful.
“Deputy L/n,” he acknowledged, his voice deeper than I remembered, or perhaps it was just the intensity of the situation. “Glad you’re here. Terrain’s rough. Got a feeling this is gonna be a long one.”
“Commissioner,” I replied, the title feeling too formal but a necessary barrier. “I’m ready. What’s the latest?”
We worked for hours, pushing through dense brush and rocky inclines, the biting wind whipping around us. John was tireless, his knowledge of the land invaluable. He scouted ahead, helped clear paths, his leadership quiet but absolute. At one point, we were separated from the main group, climbing a steep, treacherous ridge. A loose rock shifted beneath my boot, and I cried out, losing my footing. Before I could fall, John was there, his strong arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me hard against him, steadying me. My face was pressed against his chest, the familiar scent of leather, pine, and honest sweat flooding my senses. My heart hammered against my ribs, not just from the near-fall, but from the sudden, undeniable proximity.
“Careful, Y/n,” he murmured, his voice rough against my ear. He held me for a beat longer than necessary, his grip firm, protective. I could feel the warmth of him through my uniform, the solid strength of his body. When he finally loosened his hold, he didn’t let go completely, his hand resting on my arm, his thumb gently stroking my sleeve. Our eyes locked, and the world outside of us faded. All the pain, all the distance, all the unspoken words were suddenly laid bare.
His eyes, those intense, ocean-blue eyes that had haunted my dreams for years, held a depth of emotion I hadn’t seen before. Regret, yes, but something else too. A desperate yearning that mirrored my own.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, so low I almost missed it. “For everything. For how I hurt you.”
My breath hitched. “John…”
He squeezed my arm, then let go, stepping back, but his gaze never left mine. “No. Let me speak, Y/n. I was a fool. A damn fool. I heard everything you said that night. Every single word. And I pushed it away because… because I was scared.” He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging his hat for a moment before settling it back. “Scared of what it meant. Scared of what I felt. Scared of tearing my life apart. Evelyn… She's a good woman. And she’s given me a family. But… but it hasn’t been enough, Y/n. Not like this. Not with you.”
My vision blurred with tears, but this time, they weren’t tears of fresh heartbreak, but of agonizing, dizzying hope. “What are you saying, John?”
He took a step closer, his voice raw with emotion. “I’m saying I spent weeks trying to convince myself what we had was just friendship. What I felt was just habit. But it’s not. It’s never been. I watch you, Y/n. I see the woman you’ve become, the deputy, the one who carries herself with such strength and grace, and all I can think about is how I let you walk away.” He reached out, his hand hovering near my face, then gently cupped my cheek. His thumb traced the line of my jaw, sending shivers through me. “That kiss in the hayloft wasn’t an accident for me, Y/n. Not really. It was just… the wrong time.”
“And now?” I choked out, my voice trembling.
His gaze was steady, unwavering. “Now, I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m going to do. But I know I can’t keep living a lie, not to myself, not to you. And I can’t live without you, Y/n. Not like this.”
It was agonizing. It was everything I had ever wanted to hear, delivered in the cruelest, most complicated way. He was still married. He had children. But he was admitting it, admitting his feelings. The world felt like it was tilting on its axis.
“John,” I whispered, tears finally falling freely. “What about Evelyn?”
His eyes closed for a moment, a deep sigh escaping him. “That’s… that’s a conversation I have to have. And it won’t be easy. She’s not going to take this well. You know that.” He opened his eyes, and the pain there was stark. “But I can’t stay in a marriage that’s… that’s just a shell. Not when I know what real connection feels like. What we feel.”
The search and rescue team called out to us, reminding us of our duty, of the world outside our emotional storm. We spent another six hours combing the terrain, finding the wreckage and, heartbreakingly, the pilot. The shared trauma, the bone-deep weariness, only intensified the unspoken understanding between us. We spoke little, worked in sync, and every time our eyes met, the promise, the agonizing possibility, hung heavy in the air.
Days turned into a week. The tension in Bozeman was palpable. Rumors flew, whispers about John and Evelyn, about the cracks finally showing in the Dutton family facade. I kept my head down, doing my job, but my heart was a frantic bird in my chest. Then, one evening, a call came to my small apartment. It was John.
“Can I come over?” he asked, his voice tired, yet resolute. “I need to talk.”
I knew. I let him in without a word. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. There was a faint bruise on his cheek, a cut on his lip. My breath hitched.
“Evelyn?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
He nodded, running a hand over his face. “She knows. She’s… she’s furious. Said things. Broke things. It was… hell, Y/n. It was hell.” He looked up at me, his eyes pleading. “But it’s done. I told her I couldn’t do it anymore. That I needed to be honest, with her, with myself.”
My eyes welled up again. “And the kids?”
“That’s the hardest part,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “They don’t understand. Beth’s angry, Jamie’s retreating, Lee’s just confused. Kayce’s too young… This isn’t going to be easy, Y/n. It’s going to be a long, brutal fight.” He stepped closer, reaching out, his hands finding my shoulders. “But if I’m going to fight, I need to know… I need to know you’re in this with me. That what I feel is real, for both of us.”
I didn’t hesitate. I threw my arms around his neck, burying my face in his shoulder. “Oh, John,” I sobbed, the dam finally breaking. “Always. Always.”
He held me tight, his arms crushing me against him, and I felt the tremor in his body, the release of tension that had been building for years. We stood there for a long time, just holding each other, letting the tears fall, letting the weight of the moment settle.
It wasn't a fairytale ending. The fallout was immense. Evelyn Dutton, as expected, was a force of nature, her anger a storm that raged across the valley. There were whispers, judgment, and the painful reality of a family split apart. I was suddenly branded the 'other woman,' the one who broke up the Dutton marriage, despite the quiet, private truth of a love that had festered beneath the surface for decades. John himself navigated a minefield of guilt and the fierce protectiveness of his children, who were, for a long time, confused and hurt.
But through it all, there was us. John and I.
Months later, we sat on my small porch, not the grand Yellowstone one, but a modest one with a view of the distant mountains. He had his arm around me, my head resting on his shoulder, just like that night two months ago, and so many nights before. Except this time, there was no secret, no fear, no painful unrequited love.
“It’s quiet here,” I murmured, listening to the crickets.
“Yeah,” he rumbled, pressing a kiss to my hair. “Good quiet.”
I looked up at him, studying the lines around his eyes, the slight silvering at his temples. He was still the cowboy I’d loved since I was a girl, but now, he was mine. Hard-won, complicated, but wholly mine.
“You still think the badge looks good on me?” I teased lightly.
He chuckled, pulling me closer. “Looks even better now, Deputy L/n. Everything looks better now.” His eyes, no longer shadowed by conflict, held a deep, profound peace. “Turns out, I didn’t just want to be good, Y/n. I just wanted to be honest. And with you… with you, I finally am.”
He kissed me then, a slow, tender kiss that spoke of patience, of understanding, of a deep, abiding love that had weathered years of silence and finally, finally found its voice. It wasn't the easy kind of happiness, but it was real. And in the vast, wide-open landscape of Montana, under the endless sky, that felt like everything.
