confessions of a dance floor

I think it speaks to the mixture of Madonna's timeless melodies and Stuart Price's perfect production and the fact that disco music will never sound bad, but it's amazing how Confessions on a Dance Floor simply refuses to age and sound any less magical than it did in 2005
Pour Me Out(John Laurens x Reader)


Here’s the long awaited part two to Pardon Me. I’m sorry it took so long.

Special thanks to @thinkabout-dreams @always-blame-jefferson @magicalcloud16

Words: 6000 (SCREECH)

Song: Pour Me Out by He Is We

Warnings: blood, angst, flashbacks, cursing

Wake up in the morning it’s not so bad

 “Miss (Y/N), there’s a letter for you!” You dragged yourself out of bed and slowly got dressed. Your leg usually cramped up in the morning, and today was no exception.

“I’m coming, hold on!” The sun was just rising over the horizon, and with it your spirits. The wardrobe groaned as you opened it, and you shuffled through frilly, annoying dresses. In the very back, a pair of pants and a man’s shirt gathered dust. You slowly stopped shifting, and sighed in defeat.

I can taste you on my lips and it makes me sad

 As you buttoned the shirt, you thought back to your dream the night before.

John quickly pushed you to the ground.  

“I’m not letting you get away again.” John pinned your hands above your head.

“John, wh-what are y-you doing?” He leaned down close to your face as your chest heaved.

“Something I should have done a long time ago.” Then, he slowly pushed his lips onto yours.

Your hands stilled as a tear dropped down to the floor. Your lips twitched, in need of something they’ve never had. After a brief pause, you wiped your face and left the room.

There’s a part of me that just wants you back

 “Ah, thank you Michael.” The mailboy nodded, then hurried off to finish his deliveries. The calm street was groggily waking up, and the early risers were already heading off to work. A few of the more accepting neighbors waved at you, and you waved back. Others saw you and sniffed at your choice of dress. A flash of blue as it turned the corner had you drowning in the past, and your breath shuddered as you dragged yourself back to the present.

“Is that (Y/N) I see?” A friendly face joked as you met her eyes.

“Is that Peggy Schuyler I see?” Your longtime friend laughed, and made her way over from across the outside of the street.

“How’s your leg, my dear friend?” She gestured towards your leg and screwed her face up. “I still can’t imagine the pain you went through.”

“Ha, yeah.” Your voice sounded fake even to your ears, and apparently Peggy’s too. She dragged you inside your home and slammed the door shut.

“This is about that soldier, isn’t it?” Damn Peggy, she was too observant for her own good. The waterworks started up again, and she dragged your head against her shoulder.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok.” You shook your head.

“It’s not. I-i just left them. I’m sure they think m-me d-dead.” Her dress darkened as you let out your sorrow out. You were glad your father gave you this house after you returned from the war. He had said something about how you deserved it, and that no matter what, you were still his daughter. The only other resident was your childhood maid Juliette. She looked after as if you were her own.

“Shh, shh.” Peggy lead you into the sitting room, where she set you down on the couch. “I came here to see if you would like to come to Eliza’s wedding.” You sniffed, and furrowed your eyebrows.

“Eliza is to be married? Since when?” Peggy laughed at the confused expression on your face.

“She had only known the fellow for 3 weeks when he proposed. But, she says she’s happy so I won’t discourage her.”

You giggled at Eliza’s antics. “If it’s that’s what she wants then who am I to judge.”

Keep reading