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jazzthatonewriterchick · 1 month

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Hit ‘Em Up! (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Cowboy!Gojo Satoru x Cowboy!Geto Suguru x Black!Cowgirl!Reader (Slow Burn/Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You get to meet Geto & Gojo the Gunslingers, the notorious outlaws that have every town and law enforcement in a twist, when your bum-ass BF offers you as payment to avoid going to prison. Little do they know that this is only a part of your plan to get what you desire. But when you realize that the infamous gun-slinging, smooth-talking cowboys could be everything you want and more when they offer you a deal to team up with them, will you successfully be able to go through with it?

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINOS GTFO); poly!SatouSugu; Reader is Black & Fem; Mention of other JJK characters; Porn with Plot; Tragic Backstories; T/W for Childhood Trauma, Parental Death, Violence, Panic Attacks & Torture; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Hand Kink; Masturbation; Voyeurism; Gay Sex; Polyamorous; Double Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Fingering; CMNF; Spitroast; Riding; Unprotected PiV Sex; Creampies; Outside/Public Sex; Shotgunning; Multiple Positions; Spit Kink; Facials; MDom/fsub Undertones; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: LISTEN TO BEYONCE'S NEW ALBUM. -Jazz

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen PT I & PT II. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Epilogue. Soundtrack.

********

FOUR: SHE A TYRANT.

You pause, wondering if you heard Gojo correctly or if Valentine smoked you after all. “Come again?” you ask.

Your eyes switch like ping pong balls between the handsome strangers, wondering who will make the first move. Geto bites back a laugh while Gojo cackles to himself. “We said,” he repeats, humor in his tone which pisses you off, “we are here for you.”

You pause, processing their confusing words. “For what?” you bark. “To kill me? Have your way with me? ‘Cause I don’t roll like that, especially with outlaws.” Gojo shoots Geto a look, winking at him. “We know,” he chuckles. “You kill ‘em dead instead…which I’m kinda curious about. Why is that you–”

“That’s none of your business!” you snap. He puts his hands up higher.

“How do y’all even know where I was?” you demand, more upset than anything about your secret identity being exposed. You thought you were more careful! You’ve kept your face hidden behind a bandana for years as the Femme Fatale, never coming out of it unless you’re alone or no one knows who you are. You thought you were safe in Blackwater.

“It ain’t hard to ask around,” Geto explains. “We blew into Blackwater after a couple of folks in the next town over said they saw you headin’ South. Since this is close by, we figured if you weren’t here, you’d at least be seen here.” He gives you a smile, sweet despite the situation at hand. “How lucky were we to have found you?” he chortles.

You keep the gun trained on them, cocking it. “Seriously?!” Gojo scoffs, glaring at you. “After we already put down our guns, you still wanna kill us?!”

“I don’t trust outlaws,” you growl. “I’ve been waitin’ for y’all to come here to get Valentine, so I can finally cross y’all off my hit list…but I need some questions answered first.”

You watch the duo give you a questionable look. “I wanna know where Benji The Bandit is,” you say, your voice steely and cool. “Ya’ll work for him, correct?”

The duo share a troubling look with each other at the mention of their boss and the eviliest man in the wild, wild West. He robs the rich and the poor; decimates towns and villages; has killed dozens. Legend says that he can show up in a town only once and scare its civilians into silence which is why the law has been chasing him for nearly two decades now. Nobody will ever give up Benji the Bandit’s whereabouts unless they have a death wish.

“We did to work for him,” Geto answers, correcting you much to your dismay. “We did his dirty work for two years until he gave us a mission that we had to refuse.”

You cock your head to the side, curious. “And what was that?” But the duo stays silent on that and you sigh, exasperated. “Fine, don’t tell me that, but at least me where he is.”

“We’re just as clueless as you, doll,” he says with a shrug. “We’ve been lookin’ for him for three years since we left him, but you know Benji: if he don’t wanna be found, he won’t be. Now may we ask you some questions?”

“No,” you hiss, pissed that you didn’t get what you wanted. “I don’t wanna find out why y’all are here for me. Frankly, I don’t care and now you two definitely have to go if you know who I am.”

Even through his blindfold, you can see Gojo roll his eyes. “Drama queen,” he mutters. “We won’t tell anyone.”

You squint at them, sizing them up. “How can I be so sure?” you ask suspiciously. “How do I know that if I let my guard down now, y’all won’t put a bullet in me where I stand?”

Geto frowns at you, possibly wondering why you’re so difficult. “We wouldn’t do that,” he says, actually sounding offended. “But since you mentioned us takin’ you off guard…”

His foot only moves an inch across the carpet, but it slides across the hardwood floors anyway and takes you with it. With a shriek, you trip backwards and lose the grip on your gun, causing it to fly out of your hand. You manage to catch yourself with one hand balancing you and turn so your on one knee, staring up at Geto who bends down to pick up your gun. “Hey!” you bark.

He smirks down at you, his eyes gleaming underneath his cowboy hat. “Now that’s takin’ off guard, little lady,” he chuckles. “Just wanted to get the gun from you. It was startin’ to scare my ‘Tarou.” He looks back at Gojo with a smiling that way too intimate and personal to be platonic.

Flushing at the realization, you gape at them. “Wait,” you pause. “Are you two–”

“Together?” Gojo finishes with a smirk. “I’m afraid the rumors are true, doll: the famous gunslingers ride more than just horses. But you won’t tell anyone, will ya?” He gives you a wink.

You stand up with a grunt, angered at the subject being changed and being embarrassed by Geto’s move. “Listen, I don’t care about y’all’s love life,” you scoff. “Just gimme back my gun!”

Geto twirls your gun around his gloved fingers, his gaze teasing. “And if I do, are you gonna blow our heads off?” he asks. He and Gojo keep their eyes on you, sizing you up the way you do them, watching you to see what your next move will be. You have to be careful, so you shake your head.

But the long-haired outlaw isn’t buying it. “How can we be so sure?” he retorts. Gritting your teeth, you go to snatch it from him, but he holds it up out of your reach. “Ah-ah…I asked you a question.”

“I said give me back my goddamn gun!” you snap before kicking Geto straight in the balls. His pretty face screws up in pain and he grunts, dropping your gun as he cups himself and hunches in agony. You race to pick up the pistol, but Gojo’s foot sends it shooting across the floor to the other side of the room.

You glare at him, seeing red like a bull. “Oooh, she’s feisty,” he cackles, taking off his hat and letting it fall to the floor. “I like that. Just be careful, little miss. I happen to like what ya just kicked.” Geto groans as he rolls onto his side, still cupping his balls. You’d laugh if you weren’t so pissed off.

You stand before Gojo with your fists tightly palled up and your feet in a fighter’s stance like a boxer. “Goin’ against me?” you bitterly laugh. “I’d like to see you two try.”

You take the first punch at Gojo, but he blocks it with his hand as if he saw it coming a mile away. You take another; he blocks it again. Frustrated, you decide to switch it up and go for a kick at his head, but he ducks.

His next move is something you count on him doing: he yanks on your ankle, sending you careening backwards onto the floor. This time, you can’t catch yourself and fall onto your ass. You have no time to focus on the sharp pain shooting up into your behind because the outlaw quickly gets on top to straddle you.

“Usually, I don’t do this with girls I just met,” he chuckles, “but I think you’re an exception, little miss.”

“Bite me,” you growl before wrapping your legs tightly around his neck and squeezing your thighs around it. Using all the strength in your core, you bring yourself up to headbutt him with the top of your skull. You release him and with a gasp, Gojo falls backwards into the couch, clutching his head.

Quickly, you get up and head to the door to escape, but two strong arms wrapping around your midsection stop you. With a yelp, you’re shoved into the wall by Geto, pinned between him and the wall. “Get offa me!” you cry out, wriggling around to try and break free. But that becomes futile when you suddenly feel Geto begin to pin your arms behind your back, sending sparks of pain shooting into your body.

“No!” you cry out, near tears. “Stop!”

“Then calm the fuck down,” he demands, his voice firm in your ear. Though you do stop, you turn your head slightly to look back at him, seeing the warning in his eyes. “Or what?” you spit defiantly.

A terrifying (yet thrilling) fire alights behind Geto’s dark eyes just at the same time as Gojo comes to assess your restricted state. “Oooh, she’s a brat,” he chuckles despite just receving a nasty headbutt. “Now I really wanna keep her, Sugu.” He tugs his pink bottom lip between his white teeth.

“Chill, Satoru,” Geto firmly says, his eyes still trained on you. “We won’t hurt you, but if you’re okay with bein’ pinned against the wall, then by all means, sugar, we’ll get the whip.”

Gojo gives you a sly grin, his long, thick, black leather whip in his hand now. At the thought of being tied up and completely at their mercy, you let yourself go slack in Geto’s hold.

“Okay, okay, I’m calm! I promise!” You take a deep breath and relax yourself, much to your dismay and irritation. You don’t like listening to anyone, especially grown ass men, when you’re a grown ass woman.

But in this situation, you’ll have to. Satisfied, Geto releases you and you begin to rub the kinks out of your arms from his iron grip, turning to face them as you do. The duo gives you your space now, stepping to the other side of the room. A sudden knock at the door makes you jump. “Y/N!” Todo yells. “Everythin’ okay in there?”

“We’ll come in if you aren’t!” Mai calls through the door. “We’ll call the sheriff!”

“Mai, you idiot, don’t let them know that!” Maki criticizes. You look at the duo standing before, wondering if you should say yes. Finally, you call to the others, “It’s alright, y’all. We just dropped some drinks up here.”

The two still stand there, never getting their guns or taking a step near you. They leave the ball completely in your court. “Explain,” you demand, crossing your arms.

“We didn’t come to fight you,” Geto explains and the corner of his lips lift slightly, “though that was quite entertainin’. We came to offer you a proposition: you team up with us. Help us take out these other baddies.”

You raise your brows at them, stunned. After putting up that fuss, they still want you on their team? ‘They must want this pussy bad,’ you think.

“Plus, you’ll need us for protection,” Geto adds. “It’s only a matter of time till people find out who you are, especially when Valentine gets arrested. You think he’s gon’ keep quiet about your identity just ‘cause you shot him in the ear?” Your world once again crumbles when you realize that he could be right.

“Shit!” you hiss, pinching the bridge of your nose as a headache begins to thump-thump-thumb against your head. “Shit, shit, this ruins everything! I had a plan!”

“Well, whatever that plan is, we can still help you achieve it,” Gojo replies, “but you’d have to come with us. We’re not gonna go into detail now since I’m sure people are listenin’,” ––he nods at the door––”but with our skills and brains combined, we could be unstoppable!”

You look between the two, assessing their faces for something––a glint in their eye; a twitch of their mouths––to give them away. But you see nothing. “What’s in this for me?” you ask suspiciously. Geto looks like he was waiting for you to ask that question. “We can go into all of that if you agree,” he tells you.

They actually look like they want you to say yes to this and to your shock, you want to. You’re curious as to why they want you in the first place out of so many other people dying to even get their attention. But you can’t. You have a plan that you’ve been putting together for years now.

“No,” you laugh. “Sorry, fellas, but I work alone. I always have and always will. Plus, I’ve been runnin’ from the law for years now and they haven’t caught up to me yet.”

They look like they were expecting that answer. Gojo sulks while Geto gives you an understanding nod. “Can’t bash the confidence,” he says, “but if you ever think differently…”

He takes a moment to take something out of his pocket––a piece of paper––and takes a pen from the nightstand next to the bed. He scribbles something down before passing it to you. “Pay us a visit,” he finishes. “We leave tomorrow.”

You read the message in your hands, seeing a number and an address to a motel: 1211 at the Corner of Maplewood, Rm 201 - G &G.

Geto then moves to pick up his weapons, straighten himself up, and walk back over to you. His eyes on you longer than necessary as he watches you read the note, looking gobsmacked. “Think about it,” he whispers. “We hope to see you again, little lady.” He takes your hand and gives it a light kiss before walking off to the door.

Gojo gives you a wink and a tip of his hat as he follows his partner to the door. “Bye for now, doll,” he says. When Geto opens it, Todo, Shoko, Yuki, and the Zenin sisters stand in the threshold, wide-eyed and definitely eavesdropping.

“Ladies,” Gojo greets as he follows Geto out the door. “Y’all might wanna dial for y’all’s sheriff. I don’t think this establishment needs a wanted criminal as a boss.” He nods down at Valentine’s unconscious body before heading off, disappearing down the stairs.

You are immediately bombarded with questions as your coworkers rush you, but you can’t say anything. You’re too busy staring at the note, so much that you begin to memorize the hotel room number.

*******

That night, the Blackwater saloon closes early and Valentine is arrested.

As soon as Gojo and Geto leave as quickly and as quietly as they’d come, Choso calls the Blackwater sheriff who riles up his posse and quickly come on their horses, one of them dragging a steel box behind it to transport Valentine to prison.

The entire saloon erupts in whispers and shocked stares as they watch two officers drag Valentine’s body down the steps, his wrists cuffed.

For the next hour, the entire saloon is questioned––you, the bartenders, the dancers, the guards, and even the customers––about what happened tonight.

You tell the sheriff about Geto and Gojo’s arrival to find Valentine and Valentine forcing you onto the Gunslingers, but you don’t tell them anything about anything other than that. The sheriff doesn’t seem suspicious of you, only thanks you for your time and apologizes for this “huge mess”.

Later, you retreat to one of the empty bedrooms to watch Valentine be tossed into the back of the steel cart. As you watch from the window, Geto’s warning continues to haunt you. You can’t help but wonder if he’s right.

Will Valentine expose you to the law? Will you be arrested? That makes your want to flee even more tempting. Just leave without telling anyone where you are headed.

But what about Shoko and the others? What would you tell them? You look down at the note clutched in your palm, reading the hotel number over and over again. Can you really trust these guys?

The door to the bedroom opens and you quickly hide the note in your bosom just as Shoko comes. “Jeez, what a mess,” she sighs, hands on her hips. “This is gonna be the talk of the town for a week. I just spoke to Maki and she’s gonna be takin’ over the saloon till we get a new manager.”

“Why doesn’t she just manage it herself?” you ask. Shoko just gives you a look and you laugh, knowing damn well that Maki would cuss so many people out that she’d never be able to handle a managerial job.

“Came up to tell ya that the saloon is closing for tonight,” Shoko says, giving you a tender look. “We can head home.”

You nod, giving her a smile. “Thanks. I’ll change my clothes and say bye to the others then.”

Silently, you walk past Shoko and she lets you, watching you go. You can tell she is worried about you and wants to ask what happened tonight, but she doesn’t want you to feel attacked or cornered. But you also know that she’ll ask you later when you’re both home.

After saying goodnight to the saloon employees and pretending to vomit when Yuki giggles about going home with Choso tonight, you change into a simple, pink dress, pack your things, and walk home with Shoko to your shared home only four blocks from work.

When you moved to Blackwater five months ago, you bunked with Shoko in a 500 square foot room that you renovated into an apartment with a kitchen, a small lounging area, a bathroom, and two twin beds.

You couldn’t be happier to have such a great roomie and friend, but you know it can’t last forever. This is the thought you’ve had in your head for months now any time you acted as if you were “normal”, going with your coworkers to happy hour at another bar or gossiping with Shoko by the candlelight at home. And you can sense that Shoko feels the same way as you take the short route home together.

The dirt roads are quiet, the many stores, boutiques, and establishments closed for the night, and the street lamps surrounded with buzzing insects attracted to the brightness and alight with flames that light your way as you walk side by side. The night is warm, but not sticky and you can tell that rain is in the forecast judging by the smell. You’re originally from the South, so you know these things.

Shoko is concerningly quiet, something that is unlike her. You wait for her to ask the golden question, but she instead stays silent, looking ahead. “Alright,” you sigh. “Go on and ask.” she looks at you questionably. “Hm?” she asks.

You give her a long look, raising an eyebrow. “You wanna ask me about the Gunslingers, so go ahead! Ask me!”

But she doesn’t, probably because she figures that you need your privacy and that you have your reasons for keeping things from her…which you do. “We didn’t have sex,” you say. “And they didn’t force themselves on me if that’s what you’re worried about. They didn’t even really want Valentine.”

Shoko finally looks at you as she takes out a cigarette and lights it with a match stick. The end of the cigarette butt glows bright red, reminding you of a firefly in the darkness. “So what did they want?” she asks, confused.

You bite your lip, battling internally with yourself. You know that Shoko wouldn’t go running to the law if you tell her who you really are, but the life you live has taught you to never trust ANYONE. But even so, you can tell her some of the truth.

“Me,” you softly whisper.

Shoko stops walking and stares at you in awe, the cigarette dangling from her lips. “They asked me to come with them, Shoko,” you explain. “To join them and help them catch other wanted outlaws.”

She continues to stare at you as if trying to pull back the layers of your skin and bones and peer inside of you. You away to a nearby street lamp, watching the flame flicker in the gaslamp.

“Well, why don’t you?” she asks. You look back to her, shocked. She shrugs, puffing on her cigarette. “They may be able to help you get to Willow Springs like you always wanted.” She gives you a reassuring smile, probably to make you feel better about not telling her the entire truth.

At the mention of your dream, you feel an overwhelming sense of need come over you. You want that so badly: a life in Willow Springs, known for its quietness, away from the wild West and danger. Just a quiet life with a cabin by a waterfall and your own farm, ditching the Fatale Femme identity for good.

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “I don’t even know if I can trust ‘em.”

Shoko once again shrugs and takes a final puff on her cigarette before tossing it down and crushing it under her heel. “Well, you’ve got plenty of time to think about it, but I personally think you should do it. Throw caution to the wind and let ‘em take you away from here.”

She stares you down with her eyes, intense yet caring. “There ain’t nothin’ here for you, honey, and that’s the truth.” Then she walks off towards your apartment, leaving you standing there stunned but knowing that you’ll eventually catch up.

Something in you tells you that her words mean more than she lets on and they follow you all the way home and into your dreams that night.

#black fanfic writer #smutty smut #my works #black coded reader #my fic shit #black writers #jjk smut #cowboy gojo #cowboy geto #satosugu #satoru gojo x black!reader #suguru geto x black!reader #cowboy!au #cowboy!geto #cowboy!gojo #poly smut #poly love

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all-pacas · 2 months

Note

Got any widobrave in you? Been thinking about them lately.

You know, I don’t — but I also have a fic I never finished or posted anywhere! Actually I have a couple of them!

crooked kind

She expects it to feel different. Stepping onto a ship, now, after everything. And it does, kinda. The ship is darker, more shadowy. Quieter. The gunpowder smells different, less sharp, until she puts her nose up to it, enough that she gets a bit up her nose when she sniffs and then sneezes and then looks around to make sure no one is watching. Tugs at her hair anxiously. Back above decks.

She still doesn’t like the way the ship moves, rocking around, the water tossing it and pushing it and letting it know who is boss — the water, the ocean going hey now I can sink you any time I want — and she’d thought, for a second, about leaving her ring with Yeza since Luc insists on going swimming for some insane reason, but she twists it around her finger now and is glad she didn’t. Didn’t give it up. Didn’t think about it for long.

Fjord and Beau are running around yelling things about getting the ship ready to sail, Fjord yelling first and then Beau repeating him louder a second later. Caleb is over with Orly and Yasha, looking at a map or something, and she goes over to them. Weird looks from Marius and the crew as she passes. Not the same kind of weird looks as she used to get: a goblin! ahh! Something duller, more familiar: what are you doing here? I don’t know you. You don’t belong.

“An’ then we’ll be h… headin’ west, ‘round these, ah, shoals here,” Orly is saying as she approaches the little table they have set up on deck, near the ship’s wheel, a map held down with red weights. She picks one up, just to feel the heft of it. Orly clears his throat as the map curls. She puts it back.

“Veth,” says Caleb. He hesitates before he says her name. “Have you settled in?”

They haven’t even left port yet, the gangplank is still out: a few of the crew are rushing back and forth, loading last second supplies.

“Mm,” she says. “It’s basically the same as we left it.”

She thinks. It’s a lot harder to see in dark corners now.

Caleb smiles at her, and she puts her arms and chin up on the edge of the table as Orly resumes explaining their route, and Yasha nods along solemnly, tracing the path with her finger.

Yasha spends the first couple of days following everyone around. She’s not subtle about it, and also she’s gigantic. First she tries to build barrels and do carpenter things with Jester, but she’s unexpectedly clumsy with her hands. She follows Beau and Fjord around for a bit, which, because Beau also just follows Fjord around, ends up making him look like he has two bodyguards who are a lot tougher than he is. Next is Caduceus, and last is Caleb.

Veth also spends a lot of her free time around Caleb. So she watches Yasha try to learn to read maps, and watches Yasha and Caleb have quiet moments talking, and watches Yasha get really annoyed at the way Caleb will, whenever Yasha estimates a direction, immediately correct her with “actually it’s west-south-west” or whatever bullshit.

She loves Caleb. But he’s so full of it sometimes.

That’s what she says, out-loud, after Caleb spends ten minutes trying to explain to Yasha that actually she can tell that north is over behind his left shoulder, but two inches left of that, because he just knows, basically. She says: “Caleb, I love you, but you are so full of shit.” She turns to Yasha. “Want to play with explosives instead?”

And that’s how Yasha becomes junior assistant powder monkey.

It’s only until later she thinks about the way Caleb cut himself off, his startled expression, when she’d said that to him. Not hurt. It was something else. Surprise. Something different.

Here’s the problem.

The thing is, there’s lots of problems. The thing is, when she thinks about herself she thinks me, but she also thinks Nott more than she thinks Veth, and when the others all kind of decided on their own to call her Veth, she was glad but — she doesn’t know. Fjord yells Veth, you’re not supposed to play with explosives we’re on a ship, and she turns her head but her first thought is how does he know about Veth? and then she remembers that’s her now. The problem is that things taste different and look different and feel different. Some of it she remembers, from the last time, when she’d woken up to mud and jeering laughter and rope burns, to shadows being too bright and smells being too sharp and her mouth bleeding from the inside, from dozens of tiny tooth cuts. Some of it she’d forgotten. The way her fingers seem to just — feel more. The way she hears less. How her teeth feel in her mouth, how her ears don’t turn and swivel when she wants to listen. She’s a little taller now. She weighs more, she has tits and an ass and is frankly just incredibly hot. She’s still quick but it feels different, to run, to crouch. She gets an eyelash caught in one of her eyes and once she’s done rubbing it out she thinks: holy shit, I have eyelashes again, and runs to bum some mascara off of Beau. Her skin is softer and bruises easier. She doesn’t feel as hungry all the time. She’d never noticed how warm she always was when she was a goblin until she starts feeling chilly sometimes, out on the deck of the ship.

Here’s the other problem.

She feels things more. Not emotionally. If anything she feels it less, a little… slower, maybe calmer, like things aren’t always jumping up and starling her to death. It’s not emotions. Not exactly. It’s just — more.

She’d joked about it. Sunbreaker? Wow was he hot. But she hadn’t really… felt anything. Not like that. Yeza had never tried anything more than a chaste kiss or hug now and then, and she’d felt a guilty relief. How would it even work? Would it work? Or would it be painful and scraping and difficult? She might have tried if he really wanted to, but he didn’t and she was glad. And that was weird, because she had always thought of herself as really into that kind of thing. They’d been going at it since they were sixteen, you know?

So it’s Yeza’s fault, really.

She turns back into her true, hot self, and she feels things again, her body, you know, works again, and they fuck like gnomes for days, and then she goes onto a ship and the first night snuggles in with Caleb the way she always has, except he holds himself really stiff and she doesn’t notice at first until he accidentally brushes her boob and moves away and she thinks oh shit yeah I have tits now and starts thinking about other things, because Caleb is not bad looking now that he bathes sometimes and keeps his hair out of his face, and so the next day she talks loudly and often about her wonderful cannons belowdecks —

(“Veth, you are absolutely fucking forbidden from ever firing the cannons without express orders from me or—“ and Fjord had hesitated, looking over at a slightly-too-eager Beau, failing to stamp out her excitement in time, “Me. Just me. No explosives. Nada.”)

— and sets up a hammock there that evening.

And then three days later, she helps Yasha set up her own hammock, after giving a long speech to her about how half the job of the gunner or powder monkey was to, like, really understand your cannons, and how this was the best way. It’s a lot harder to set a hammock up for Yasha since she’s a giant, but they figure it out eventually, even if her butt ends up landing only an inch or two above the floor.

Here’s the problem.

After they figure out how to move shit around to set up Yasha’s hammock, they go to the galley for dinner with everyone. Night one, Veth jumped up on a table and gave the I used to be a goblin speech to everyone, so she gets less weird “why is there a smokin’ hot halfling hanging out with these idiots” looks now, and dinner is nice. She can actually eat Caduceus’s tofu without getting cramps now, which helps a lot. She jokes around with the others and sits next to Caleb, as always, because they’re not avoiding one another. They talk about the peace conference and have debate #582 about if Essek (codename: Kevin) is okay or not, if Kevin can be trusted. They talk about Yasha’s hammock. Invite Jester and Beau to join the girl’s only super cool cannon slumber party.

“I thought you two,” Beau says, gesturing at Veth and Caleb, “were like, joined at the hip or whatever.” And then she gives Veth a smirk that probably means Yeah I see you, and it takes Veth all she has to keep from turning to Jester and saying something awful like The Traveller is actually kinda hot, right? back. But she doesn’t, because she’s a good fucking friend.

“What are you talking about?” Veth says instead. “‘Lebby, are you mad because I want to sleep with my cannons?” She doesn’t look anywhere near him when she asks.

“Maybe this isn’t dinnertime conversation?” Fjord says.

“Of course not,” says Caleb, and she hopes he meant her thing and not Fjord’s.

And then they all start talking about Travelercon instead.

So now she has two options. Talk to Caleb, or never talk to him again.

No. Now she has three options. Those two, or…

She and Yeza weren’t, like, swingers. Not yet. They were too young for it, generally speaking: you were supposed to wait until your kids were out of the house and all that, focus on raising your family, and Luc was only five and that was assuming they didn’t have more kids. Once you get married, that’s supposed to be it until your kids were grown: it was supposed to be good for the family to turn insular like that. Nowadays some people Veth’s age did talk about open marriages like they should be part of the vows, but it’s not like she and Yeza ever really talked about it back in Felderwin. They both wanted kids. It made sense that they should focus on their family, and anyway, Yeza was the love of her life so it’s not like she really wanted to fuck anyone else.

Was the love of her life.

Still is.

Really.

But things are so weird now, and so after they’d fucked for the third to last time in Nicodranis, when they were talking about buying a house and investing in the timeshare market, Veth had added, as casual as she could: “And if you wanted to like, date around a little, as long as you don’t knock anyone up and go all family values on me…”

“Are you serious?” Yeza asked, and then sat up and pulled his glasses on from the side of the bed.

“What are you doing?”

“This is a conversation that I need to be able to see for. What are you saying?”

Veth had been briefly distracted, but then Yeza pulled the sheet back up. “I mean… are you mad?”

“No…” he’d let the word kinda trail there.

“I mean, you can knock someone up, I guess, it’s just no second families, so overall I’d prefer you didn’t,” she’d said, using this old-fashioned Halfling term that meant ‘the insular family,’ like they were supposed to be raising back home.

“I’m not going to knock anyone up.” Yeza hesitated, pushing his glasses up. “I didn’t think we’d have this conversation for another like, twenty years.”

“I didn’t think I’d be alive in twenty years, up until a couple of days ago,” she mentioned, and then winced when he’d looked hurt. “I mean, I’m okay with it. I keep running off on you and abandoning you and, and leaving, and dy — almost dying —“ because she hadn’t yet told him about that box, or even really about drowning, and planned to never, “and — and I mean, I know it can’t be fun, I would be like, what a selfish bitch, and so if you want to—“

“Veth,” he started saying, about halfway through. “Veth. I don’t think you’re a selfish anything.” He’d taken her hands.

Well, I do, she’d thought. Looking at their hands. The fine hairs on her arms that Nott had lacked. Weird, how even shit like body hair was somehow amazing now.

“I’m happy just — knowing you’re happy, and waiting for you.”

“But I’m not! I can’t just — look, I’m going to leave you money, so buy a house and get Luc into a really great school and then go party, or, or buy the _really fancy_ alchemy ingredients, or just… don’t just sit around waiting for me, because I don’t know when I’ll be back. I want you to fuck other people! Fuck everyone in Nicodranis! Fuck Jester’s mom!”

“I am pretty sure I can’t afford her.”

“I will leave you so much money.”

They both laughed, and Veth felt herself relaxing. A little.

“Okay,” he’d said. “I don’t know if I will or not, but—“ she’d been about to tell him to do it, and he’d raised a hand then, to shush her, “but if I meet someone I like, I’ll think about it very seriously. Okay?”

“Like, or find hot.”

“Like, or find hot,” he’d agreed. He’d hesitated, and then he’d smiled. “But… you too, okay? What’s an adventure on the high seas without a sexy sailor or two?” She’d smiled. He’d hesitated again, and then added: “Or… if there’s anyone else you have in mind. Whatever. It’s fine with me, okay? Screw insular families.”

And then they’d gone ahead and fucked for the second-to-last time.

And kind of, not in an asshole way, but she’d been thinking about that last thing he said as they did. Anyone else you have in mind. Just hanging out there. Unremarked on.

Look. Here’s the thing. Caleb is hot. In a disgusting, takes a bath but doesn’t do laundry kind of way. In a forgets to shave past the point where his stubble is attractive kind of way. In a too many ribs kind of way.

In a long fingers and very nice eyes and a handsome jawline kind of way.

And when she was Nott she knew it but it never really — she didn’t feel it, so it was pretty easy. He was both hot and completely unfuckable, even in her fantasies, and she was disgusting and a goblin and that made it all very neutral and safe. When she’d curl up next to him, sometimes he’d put an arm over her if it was cold out, and it would feel nice and comforting and she’d feel this warm tingling love all over, but there was never sexual tension, even in her head, even in her infrequent attempts at daydreaming.

Because there couldn’t be. She was ugly and disgusting even if he was kind and handsome. It was wonderful of him to even willingly touch her.

And then she and Yeza fucked for three days straight, and it was like, fuck, this is what that feeling is. Like a switch went off in her head: remember how great this is? How good it feels? How hot all your friends are?

And she’s pretty fine now herself. Curves for days. But —

It’s not like she’s a different person. Whoever she is. Even if she also is.

And it isn’t like just because she got laid, she’s not horny on main all the time, just looking for people to jump. It really isn’t. She’s not crazy, or Beau flirting with some temporary member of the party. Jester braids her hair up for her one morning and it’s all nice and Jessie’s hands in her hair, on her scalp, are very soothing but Veth doesn’t feel horny at all. She and Fjord fight over going swimming, and it’s not sexual tension.

“I love you, but you are so full of shit,” she says to Caleb, and he kind of half freezes, and she hears him say it to her with different ears and eyes and she is not stupid, okay? She’s not. She knows he did not mean it like that and will never mean it like that and that they are best friends and he probably thought she was dying, in a way she did die, and it was very sweet and does not mean—

She’s not in love with him. Not like that. She’s just…

Well, she isn’t. There’s no just.

She has a couple of ideas for spells in her head. They’re not fancy ones since she’s not great at magic, but she’s seen Caleb noodling around enough with his spells that she thinks it’s probably possible. If he does all the technical stuff for her. So she mentions it kind of in passing, and he gets really excited and she chickens out.

She’s not sure why. Only because immediately he looked so happy and she got scared, and because last time they’d done this she was different and — and it’s weird. The first time she’d used magic, just a little nugget of it, she’d figured it was probably him tricking her, the way he would sometimes use his light spell to make it seem like she was glowing, back when they were begging for coin. But he’d grabbed her and hugged her hard enough that she’d lost her breath, exclaiming, I’m so proud of you! You’ve done it!

And she’d been — well, at first she hadn’t believed him, obviously. But then she had and she’d felt herself smile and then laugh, from relief or fear or both, and he’d squeezed her hands and said, _now, we will work on a spell_.

And it was pretty stupid but it felt like it mattered. Like it was some big important moment. Not using magic, although that was cool. But the way he’d hugged her and her nose had squashed into him and he’d smelled like wet wool and she’d been happy. Really happy. For probably the first time since she’d died, you know?

So he gets excited when she says she wants to invent her own spell, and she’s not thinking about that until he demands they start practicing now, and then she is thinking about it and she gets scared.

So it’s avoid Caleb forever, talk to him, or knock on his door and say can you help me with magic?

And she wants so fucking bad to get drunk first, but she chooses the third option.

She knocks on his door. Which is super weird, because it used to be her door, and also she has basically never once knocked before going in to see Caleb, ever. There’s no reply, but she knows he’s in there — she _might_ have followed him and then spent half an hour getting up her nerve — so she thinks about leaving and instead just opens the door. “If you’re masturbating this is your two second warning!” she calls as she does.

Caleb is sitting on the bed, reading. He starts, kind of dropping the book, and even though he isn’t jacking it she kind of feels like she walked in on him anyway.

She tugs at her braid. “Hey! What’s up? What’s goin’ on?”

#widobrave #unfinished fanfic

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sallysoot · 3 years

Note

I had to disregard my anonymity to send in my Techno drabble since I don't have a secret writing blog or anything, but it was worth it to share my yearns for a domestic life in the wilderness with Techno ;; if you wanna copy what I wrote in the response to this ask that's a-ok! - 🐉

i would never expose you!!!!! but i absolutely loved this fic, TELL ME WHY THAT WAS SO CUTE. you say you don’t write much but BRUH you should!! it went so hard i’d love to see more from u,,,, <3 and ofc here IT IS FOR ALL Y’ALL TO FAWN OVER LIKE I DID!

Aurora Australis

tis I, dragon anon! No snitchin on my true identity now, my thirst must be kept SECRET…. I’m not the most experienced with writing but you’ve inspired me a lot over the past few days!!

Moments like these were rare up north, before the revolution. It was buzzing with people and activity, and Techno’s own preparations had kept him busy from one sunrise to the next.

But here, far, far south, the silence was near constant. The snow that blanketed the landscape quieted nearly all noise that fell upon it, save for the gusts of wind that raced through the trees. It was always cold, bitterly so, but it was worth it for the solitude.

Here, the two of you could sit for hours at a time, uninterrupted. No one to answer to, no schedule to follow. Just you and the miles of open sky, untouched by city lights.

Techno was built for the stark environment, so it’s no surprise that he’s the most comfortable person to sit with, especially out in the snow. Your back pressed against his chest, his cloak covering you, the feeling of dense fur on the back of your head. No amount of cold could touch you, even sitting out here in the dead of night.

“-but Orion was a bit of a cocky bastard, see. Not only did he die to a scorpion of all things, but he was a bit of a creep to King Oenopion’s daughter. Guy didn’t respect women like yours truly.” You giggled, vaguely aware of Techno explaining the stories of the constellations above you. You were drifting further just from the sound of his voice

“Mmm… yeah, didn’t the king blind him for trying to get with her?” You hummed, closing your eyes and settling further into his arms.

Techno barked out a laugh. “Yeah, he did. Not like it mattered in the end though, thanks to the oracle that helped him. Gotta give credit to the scorpion that offed him for that alone.” You felt him shift, running one of his hands through your hair. “Hey, you still with me darlin’? You ain’t gonna sleep through my stories, are ya?”

For some reason, your eyelids refused to open as you murmured back, “No, I’m not, just resting my eyes.” Techno hummed and continued to stroke your hair softly, and that only sealed your sleepy fate.

“Mhm, alright… we should be headin’ back soon anyway.”

“Hey, hey, wake up.”

You groaned, mind hazy with the lingering drowsiness. Techno’s rumbling voice stirred you from your nap, his hand gently shaking your shoulder. You were about to lazily tell him off for waking you when you were so comfortable, until you saw his face was turned skyward. Following his gaze, you were awake almost instantly.

“Oh, wow…” you breathed, taking in the sight above you. Time seemed to stop as different hues of bright green slowly danced across the sky, like neon ribbons suspended in the heavens. The fresh snow in the valley below you reflected the light of the auroras, draping the surrounding area in a soft green glow. You figured you’d see the auroras when you and Techno moved here, but nothing could have prepared you for how stunning they are in person.

Techno leaned down, resting his chin on top of your head. “Wow indeed. I’ve been looking forward to this since we came down here. I’m glad you got to see it.”

Your hand quickly found his, squeezing lightly.

“Me too.”

#asks #🐉 anon #bangin' authors #Anonymous

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garyofrivia · 5 years

Text

For They Shall Be Satisfied

Arthur Morgan x OC

Chapter 1

(masterlist in bio - find more chapters there!)

Summary: In the days before the Blackwater Massacre, everything was simpler. Life has never been about the delicacies of luxury for the Van der Linde gang. It’s about surviving. Annie Bolton is no stranger to survival. With a natural talent for robbing, killing, and con-artistry, she fit in perfectly when she fell in with Dutch and company 6 years ago. But with time, more than what meets the eye is revealed. Not everyone is who they say they are and everything is always more than it seems. What is uncovered from beneath the guise of freedom and liberty is a world full of chaos, death, and deceit. For Arthur, John, Dutch, and Annie, the struggle for power is coming to an end and the time to make important decisions closes in, quicker than any of them could prepare for. (Takes place just before RDR2 and then continues into the game's events - Arthur will get his happy ending if it's the last thing I do goddamn it)

A/N: soo this is my first chaptered RDR fic, heck! feel free to let me know what ya think, stay tuned for updates, she’s gonna be a long one, kids.

Warnings/Categories: Violence, Angst

(WC: 4,312)

The plains of West Elizabeth were just as they had always been. Dry, hot, barren, practically a desert. For miles, all you could see was grassland that seemingly swallowed the horizon. It gave the illusion of being flat, though jagged rocks stuck out of the earth like fangs. Steep hills and ridges disrupted the terrain and painted the picture of a wasteland, though it was quite the contrary. The wildlife that thrived there endured the elements as they came. When it rained, it poured. At night, the temperatures reached near freezing, a stark contrast to the scorching midday sun with rays that seemed to make its way through every cloud break in the sky. Even in early spring, it was unbearable. With the heat beating down on her shoulders, the hunter on the road finally gave into the temptation of shedding her jacket and slung it over her horse’s back behind the saddle. She was a tall, fair woman, with strong shoulders atop her lean frame and wide hips. Her long, deep brown hair was tied off her sweaty neck and tied into a braid down her back, and even without the jacket she felt as if she was baking alive in the dry heat. She wiped the sweat from her brow and grimaced. She truly did not miss the this climate.

Annie Bolton had gone out alone on a hunting trip for a few days to the northwestern part of West Elizabeth. She told herself that it was a way to get away from camp and seemingly everyone’s watchful eyes for a while and to scout the perimeter of the territory as she tracked herds of pronghorn. The trip had been relatively unsuccessful, and while she collected about a half-dozen jackrabbit pelts, the bigger game in the area had seemed to have disappeared. She was trekking back to camp on foot, leading her stallion, Nero, around snake holes and loose rocks. Her bowstring was rubbing her collarbone raw, but she didn’t care. The frustration of the hunt had sent her spiraling into a whirlwind of thought. The Van der Linde gang had retreated east to escape the long arm of the law in multiple. Dutch had thought it best, since that’s really the only direction they could go without running out of land. Civilization did not sit well with the gang; or rather, the gang didn’t sit well with civilization. While the area around Blackwater wasn’t as populated or industrialized as other places out east, it was still… different. On the other hand, cities and towns offered profitable more opportunities than the open frontier. Annie and Hosea made a killing in the towns. They were a good team when they worked together, especially considering he taught her everything she knows about running a scheme. She was a natural at it, sweet talking any unsuspecting businessman at a saloon she could to draw their attention and give them the rundown, but she preferred to remain in the background and watch from afar. The more information she could gather about her surroundings, the better. She never let anyone go into a job unprepared for a situation that could take a wrong turn. Almost every stagecoach hit, heist, homestead run, or bank robbery that she had taken point on had been a success. Even though she’d been running with the Dutch for less than a quarter of the time his right hand, Arthur Morgan, had been, she’d quickly risen to the top of the food chain under Hosea’s wing. She proved herself to be a valuable member of the team many times over. Although to her, nothing ever seemed to be enough. It’s not that Dutch didn’t like her. He called her his daughter and he trusted her with big jobs as much as he did Arthur or Hosea. But he was… off, as of late. He’d sometimes pull Hosea aside and they’d speak quietly about something in his tent and usually, the conversations turned into heated arguments. She never caught a full conversation, but for more reasons than one, she knew a lot of them had to have been about her. Annie was a loner, even within the gang. After 6 years with them, she still felt the need to keep to herself. This didn’t seem to sit well with Dutch. She’d never cross anyone, not even in her wildest dreams. She would, and had, put herself in any kind of danger to protect them, just as they would each other. Every time it came up with Arthur, which was rarely a conversation either of them enjoyed having, he assured her that her that Dutch loved her like his own. She never believed him, so she’d taken it upon herself to prove her worth. And that she did. But, the less than successful hunting trip had caused her to miss out on a caravan robbery near Blackwater and had barely any game to show for it. She and and her horse both felt defeated as they trudged on through the thick undergrowth and uneven ground. What at first seemed to be a gust of wind in the brush, she soon realized was a voice from over a small ridge to her left. She immediately halted in her tracks and whipped out the binoculars from her saddlebag. She crouched down and approached carefully. Two men came into view and she could just barely make out what they were saying. “I jus’ don’t think it’s a good idea,” the man standing next to a tree said loudly. He spoke in an Irish accent that sent shivers down Annie’s spine. It can’t be… “It don’t matter what you think, dumbass.” “That much is clear.” “Boss says it’s the best thing we can do right now. So we’ll wait up for Thomas and Connelly and the rest of their lot and just do what we’re told.” She peered through her binoculars and caught a glimpse of their faces and notorious blue coats, recognizing them instantly. O’Driscolls. Damn it. It somehow wasn’t a surprise, though it was a bit puzzling. What are they doing this far south? As if on cue, band of five men rode into view and towards the small encampment. “Howdy, Collins. O’Shea,” the man on the first horse greeted them. “Connelly is brining the rest of the boys right behind us. The pair of you ready to go catch us some Van der Lindes?” Shit. “Sure, their hit’s supposed to be just north of here. We scouted the area.” SHIT. Without wasting any time, she took off back to Nero and spurred him into a gallop towards camp. Panic was hitching in her chest. It’d only be a few weeks since they’d been camped near Blackwater and the O’Driscolls shouldn’t have been able to find them so quickly. And the chances of them catching wind of the caravan job were slim to none. Something was wrong. The sight of Charles standing guard just outside camp alarmed her for some reason. She figured he’d be on with the job, but they must have been shorthanded for guard duty. “Annie-,” he started to say something, but she sped past him and right into the heart of camp. “Dutch!” she called. The Count and Boudicca were hitched next to each other near Strauss’s wagon. “Dutch!” “Annie, why on Earth are you yellin’?” Dutch brushed passed the flap of his tent with Arthur on his heels. “It’s the O’Driscolls. They’re headin’ to the caravan. I don’t know what they’re plannin’, but it can’t be good.” “Shit. Where are they?” “East, down the river a ways. Arthur, let’s go.” Arthur groaned and jogged towards his horse. “Jesus.” “I need to come with you,” Dutch said, starting for The Count. “No, they’ll be gunnin’ for you,” Annie said. “And we need people here to protect camp in case they find it, and by the looks of it it’s only you, the Callander boys, and Charles.” “Were you followed?” Dutch says, narrowing his eyes. “No, of course not! We don’t have time for this,” she said a bit too harshly. Dutch opened his mouth to snap at her but Arthur cut him off. “She’s right, Dutch. Who knows how they found us, they might have more men than just the ones she saw.” “Fine,” Dutch said, nodding reluctantly. “Go on, then.” She took off again at full speed with Arthur at her side. He pulled slightly ahead, leading the way to the hit location. “Why aren’t you on the job, Arthur?” she said. “Who’s takin’ the lead?” “John is,” he replied, monotone. “Dutch wanted a few errands taken care of. Had to tend to that first with Bill, I was gonna catch up later.” “Didn’t seem like it. Since when are you an errand boy and John gets to run point?” “Since today, apparently. Since you wanna ask me all these questions, where the hell have you been?” “Hunting.” “Did you toss all the game back after reelin’ ‘em in? Or did they just get up to put their pelts back on and walk home?” “Shut up. I went ‘cause I thought there would be plenty of guns for this job. Not my fault the fields are dry as hell.” “I told you, I was gonna go!” “Either way, it’s done with now. All that scouting for nothin’. Damn it.” “Well…” She glanced over to him and saw the familiar, sly gleam in his eyes. “What?” “We could cut these boys off. Save the job from goin’ sour. Lord knows we need the money.” Annie paused to think and slowed Nero to a canter, Arthur following suit. “What if they have more men, like you said?” He shrugged. “What’s that magical gut of yours tellin’ you?” “We could… split up?” “Neither of us are that good with a pistol to take on that many O’Driscoll boys alone. I appreciate the sentiment, though.” “Well, I could ride up on that ridge with my rifle just before where the hit’s gonna go down. Pick ‘em off as they come in, with you on the ground to round up the stragglers.” “Now, there’s an idea,” he said, satisfied. “You wanted a hunt, didn’t ya?” Annie smirked and kicked Nero to a gallop again, leaving Arthur to make his way to the rest of the gang. It was about a five minute ride by the time she got to the ridge. She pulled her worn, black bandana over her nose and mouth and dismounted. With a quick survey of the area, she pulled the sniper rifle from her saddle and began aiming to adjust the scope, finding the gang in her sights, just around the bend that would hide them from the oncoming caravan. Arthur tipped his hat when he saw her wave from the ridge and returned to arguing with John. No sign of the O’Driscolls or the stage coaches yet. Annie sighed with relief. They’d gotten there with time to spare. She kept an eye on the gang. John had brought Sean, Micah, Javier, and Lenny. “Idiot,” she mumbled to herself. It wasn’t nearly enough men for a robbery like this in broad daylight. He and Arthur both looked heated, which was nothing new. A few years before, John had run off for a while, longer than he should have according to Arthur. They’d been at each other’s throats since he got back. Annie saw Arthur point to her and across the fields, probably telling the rest of them what the plan was. As he ran off to get in position, she turned her attention to the east. It wasn’t long before the onslaught of O’Driscolls came riding across the plains. Annie quickly counted ten of them in total. This wasn’t going to be easy. She took in a deep breath and lined up her first shot, firing with a steady exhale. One down. The man’s head bobbled, his body immediately going limp and falling sideways off his horse. The piercing sound of the sniper rifle took the rest of them by surprise, but they kept formation, not knowing where the fire was coming from. She pulled the trigger twice more, dropping another two men. Seven more to go. They scattered with the third shot and Arthur instantly took off towards the four riders going south, while Annie focused her fire on the three fleeing north. From her peripherals, she saw the gang fall into motion as the first stagecoach entered the valley, John at the head. She was surprised they hadn’t stopped and turned around the wagons at the first sounds of gunfire. City folk had once again proven themselves to be notoriously naive. One of the O’Driscoll boys ran right past the disoriented escorts, but Annie splattered his brains on the road right next to them. She didn’t miss a shot, even from this distance with moving targets. Though Arthur and the rest of the boys would never admit it, she was the best sharpshooter in the gang. If there was one thing she was sure of about herself, it was her steady aim. She picked off the last O’Driscoll in her sights and turned her attention back to the heist. The three moronic escorts were off to the side in front of Micah on their knees, clear of the robbery. Three coaches full of rich travelers and precious cargo meant a huge haul for them. This was the biggest job they’d done in a few months and she prayed nothing more would get in the way as she packed her gun onto her saddle and began to mount up to help Arthur. “Long time no see, Bolton’.” She froze. The eerily familiar voice came from behind her. A revolver hammer locked into place and a chill ran down her neck when she felt the barrel turn its aim on her. “Gregory,” she said, glancing over her shoulder and raising her hands. “What brings you boys to these parts?” “Just on the trail of some vermin. Looks like I caught myself some. Why don’t you come on home with me?” “Why? You miss me?” “I sure as hell don’t. Colm do, though. I’m just doin’ his biddin’,” he scoffed Anger rose up within her at the mention of Colm. He’d taken her in when she was a child, but not in the way Dutch did with orphans who need a home. He was more like her owner, making her dress up for jobs to use her as bait, training her to kill, steal, and fight. If she did do it the way he said, she earned herself a beating, if he was feeling kind. She eventually was able to get out when she was about 13. They’d had a few run-ins since, but she always somehow managed to escape. But it came close once. Too close. About a year ago, she was laying in her bed, mending the gunshot wound that should have killed her. The bullet somehow left all vital organs undamaged, missing her left lung by just under an inch. It still gave her a run for her money when it got infected after being stranded out in the elements for a day or two. Hosea found her facedown in the mud, 40 yards from camp. She didn’t remember how, but she walked and dragged herself the whole way from town, nearly six miles away. How she didn’t bleed out was beyond anyone. By some unruly stroke of luck, surely. She slowly turned to face the man she once knew as Joseph Gregory. His left shoulder was shot, likely in the collarbone from the way his arm was limp at his side. He must have been one to get away from Arthur. Now that he had her cornered once and for all, the manic grin across his face was hauntingly overjoyed. “You boys been followin’ us, then?” “‘Course we have,” he said. He’d lost a lot of blood, but he seemed more angry than concerned. “There’s a price on your head in two different states. Figure it’s easy money.” “Well, seems like nothin’s changed with you. You can’t take me in to the law if Colm wants me. Where’s your loyalty lie, Joey? With Colm or with the money?” Gregory smiled. “Colm says he’ll let me have you after he’s done with what he needs to do witcha. I’m gonna call the bounty money a bonus.” “We both know that’s a damn lie.” “It ain’t!” “So you intendin’ to take me alive, then?” “So long as you cooperate. I’ll shoot them pretty little legs right off ya if you don’t. He only needs a part of you still breathin’.” “C’mon now, you don’t think I’ll willingly get on that nasty ole nag of yours, hands tied with no way of defendin’ myself, do you?” His smile faded. “I don’t see how you’re in any position to be makin’ demands, bitch.” “Go on, then,” she taunted, dropping her hands to her side. “Shoot my ‘pretty little legs’ off.” He frowned and cinched his eyebrows together in frustration. It was a thin line she was treading, but she knew Colm O’Driscoll. He wanted her for himself. And Gregory was afraid of Colm more than he hated Annie. “You can ride your own horse,” he mumbled, reluctantly. “But I gotta tie your hands to my saddle.” She smirked and held her hands out. “See? That seems reasonable.” He holstered his gun and started to restrain her. Annie smiled when she saw the rider in the black hat pop up over the hill, just behind Gregory. Arthur pressed a finger to his lips and crept towards them, revolver in hand. When he was in position he nodded and Annie made her move. “Achoo!” she sneezed right into Gregory’s face, stunning him for half a second. It was enough time for Arthur to jump into action and pressed the gun right into the O’Driscoll’s spinal cord. Annie rubbed her nose, mockingly. “Sorry, must be all the dust.” “You goddamn bitch! I’ll gut you for this!” “Hey now, didn’t your mama ever teach you how to talk to a lady?” Arthur said. He grabbed Gregory by his arm and forced him to the ground, face down. “That ain’t no lady,” Gregory snarled. “That’s a damned she-devil.” Annie chuckled as Arthur smashed the butt of his gun into the man’s head, making him yelp like a dog. “Nah, he’s right, Arthur. I ain’t no lady. I’m so, so much worse.” She approached him and knelt so that he could see her face clearly. “Now, if you survive this, you tell Colm we’re far too smart for him. We’ll always see him comin’. We’ll always be one step ahead. Always.” She nodded to Arthur and he hogtied him without struggle. “C’mere,” he said, slinging Gregory onto his shoulder and walking him down the hill to the his horse. He threw him on the back and secured him to his own saddle. “Have a good trip, now. Make sure you take a left at the crossroads.” With that, Annie slapped the man’s horse and they took off into the distance. “You shoulda shot him,” she said. “I didn’t wanna miss and accidentally hit you.” “All the same.” “You okay?” She shuffled her feet and adjusted the brim of her hat. “Yeah, no reason why I shouldn’t be.” “Well, you were just starin’ down the barrel of that bastard’s gun.” “Nothin’ new. Concern’s not a good look for you, Arthur.” “Sure. How many you get?” “In all? Six.” “How many shots?” Annie grinned deviously. “Do I really need to answer that?” “No,” Arthur laughed and shook his head. “You sure don’t” Annie’s smile faded and she sighed. “They’re trackin’ us. Bastard said so himself. They’re… uh, tryin’a get to me.” “Shit. I knew Colm to be vengeful, but not like this. What did you even do to the man, again?” “I left him, joined up with his sworn enemy, and started killin’ his men. I reckon that’d make him pretty mad.” “This ain’t mad. This is crazy.” “There a difference?” Before he could respond they saw John ride up to them from around the side of the hill, followed closely by the rest of the gang on the job. “Thanks for havin’ our back, you two,” John said, nodding to the pair of them. Javier tossed them both a single stack of bills. “Here’s your cut. We should be gettin’ outta here.” “Right, Arthur and Annie, always there to save the goddamn day.” Micah said, a bit too loudly. “We didn’t run it, why do we get a cut?” Annie asked, ignoring Micah’s jab. “There wouldn’t have been a bloody job if it weren’t for you two bastards,” Sean chimed in. “Why are you arguin’? Let’s get a move on!” “I ain’t arguin’,” Arthur said, shrugging. He whistled for his horse and Annie did the same. “Let’s go, law’ll be here any minute on account of all the gunfire. Separate ways everyone. Stay outta sight and outta trouble.” Annie mounted her horse and turned to ride off with the rest of them when she noticed Arthur hanging back, taking in the view of the scattered O’Driscoll corpses from the ridge. She rode up to him and noticed a puzzled look on his face. “What is it?” “Oh, uhh… I was just… wonderin’ about how they heard about the heist. Kinda suspicious, don’t ya think?” Annie sighed. “We can figure all that out at camp. There’s nothin’ here that’ll help.” “Maybe there’s -.” “Arthur,” she said, cutting him off. “What is it?” He sighed, hesitating. “It’s Dutch. He’s concerned for… well, us. You and I.” “Why’s that?” “A while back he told me that Colm’s apparently been hearin’ the message that you’re close with me. Dutch says he’ll try to use me to get to you. Now I don’t rightly worry about myself in that regard. But the way Colm’s been gunnin’ for you… It’s unsettling.” Annie shifted in her saddle, a bit unnerved. “Why’s any of this on Dutch’s mind?” “Don’t be like that, Annie, he’s only lookin’ out for the gang.” “Just seems he shoulda come to me about it, seein’ as it’s my responsibility.” “It’s just as much mine as it is yours.” “Is it? You don’t know what Colm’s capable of, I can guarantee you that much.” Arthur narrowed his eyes. “You don’t think I know what he’s done?” “No,” she said, plainly. “I don’t. The next time you or Dutch have a conversation about who will be dyin’ ‘cause of me, I’d like to be there for it.” “We weren’t talkin’ about-.” “About what? Throwin’ me out?” “Jesus, no! Of course not, Dutch’d never do that to one of his own.” “Really?” she scoffed. “I was an O’Driscoll once, you think he’s forgotten about that?” “He ain’t Colm. You were a kid, same as all of us when we fell into this life. Dutch knows that, he knows your story, how it went for you. It’s bad business.” “He ain’t know the half of it. Neither do you.” “Tell me then,” he challenged, raising his hands in exasperation. “If you’re so hellbent on us knowin’ the whole story.” “I ain’t,” Annie snapped. “Look. I know what Colm’ll do once he’s got his sights set on someone. He’ll use anyone he can, anyone you’re close to.” “Is that what we are then, Arthur? ‘Close’?” He paused, taken aback by the question. “Well, I don’t know, are we?” Annie shook her head and sighed loudly. She felt a confusing mix of anger and sadness swirling in her stomach. If the two of them had anything in common, it was their temper. “Arthur, you gotta understand, if anything happened to you… or the rest of the gang for that matter... because of me, I’d never forgive myself. I was a fool for hopin’ it’d be different. After everything I’ve done…” Arthur didn’t seem like he knew how to respond. He just looked at her with longing eyes, begging her to not finish building the wall she’d been putting up between them for as long as he’s known her. The silence grew more and more tense between them. But she realized she knew what she had to do. “I’ll talk to Dutch and Hosea,” she continued, her voice suddenly weak. “I’ll do a few more jobs with you all, help you out some while I make what I need to be on my way.” Arthur shook his head in denial. “No, Annie. That ain’t gonna go over well.” “Damn what Dutch says then. I won’t do that to everyone. We have our differences he and I, but you all are fine people. Hosea will-.” “No, not with Dutch. Not with Hosea. With me, with John and Charles, Lenny, and Tilly and the rest of everyone-.” “I just-.” “Shut up for once, will ya?” he snapped at her. Her breath hitch on the lump forming in her throat and she suddenly couldn’t speak even if she wanted to. “Annie, we’re family now, ain’t we? We’ll protect you. I will. I won’t… I can’t do none of this without you. None of us can, we need you.” “We should go, Arthur,” she said, her voice cracking. The feeling of dread sank in her stomach like a rock. She lowered her head so her hat hid her face, fearful of what her expression might reveal. “Please, can I see you at camp? Can we talk about this?” “Since when are you one for talkin’?” She cleared her throat and hesitated. “I’ll meet you back there.” With that, she took off towards Blackwater, mustering all her strength to hold herself together. She knew it wouldn't last very long.

#rdr2 fic #red dead redemption fic #rdr fanfic #red dead redemption fanfic #arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan fic #rdr oc #my fics #my oc #annie bolton #for they shall be satisfied #ftsbs

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