#i got a soft spot for gunslingers
Note
Okay but Billy with an innocent reader>>>>>>>> LIKE HES SO PROTECTIVE OML
billy + innocent!reader
stop i love this. this should be an au hell i may just write more for it
tw— for use of a gun, toothrotting fluff
request
"go ahead, honey. pull the trigger." billy's voice is sweet against your ear.
your face morphs into a coy apprehension, "and you're sure this won't send me flying on my rear?"
he chuckles, straightening your arms a bit, "m'right here, i won't let that happen."
your eyes focus in on the three rusty cans in the distance, set atop a dry rotting log. you know there's no way you're going to hit them all. you'd be lucky to hit one.
but billy is adamant in both that you need to learn how to shoot, and that you’ll be a ‘natural’. his driving objective, however, being that since he can't be with you from sun up to sun down, he'll have to settle with teaching you how to fend for yourself.
it's not unlike him to behave this way. in the months you've known the gunslinger, you've come to find that his urge to protect you is enormous.
his protection isn't reserved just against the infamous wild men of the west, but rather, anything and anyone. if it could possibly do you harm, physically or mentally, he's there to guard and defend.
like a knight out of the princess tales your mother used to tell you.
you let out a harsh breath before your finger begins to press into the trigger. too soft at first, the metal remains in its' spot, you muster up all your courage and pull the trigger. your eyes are screwed shut as the bullet whistles away, and you quickly turn into billy.
his arms ensnare you, wrapping you tight, "what're you hidin' for? you hit it dead center, sweetheart!"
you lift your head, staring unabashedly into his blue eyes, "did i really?"
he hums, using his dominant hand to steer your gaze away from him and toward the target. sure enough, the can on the left side has a small hole right in its middle.
billy chuckles, his chest rumbling against your back, "told you, my girl's a natural."
you can't help but grin, the tension releasing from your shoulders, "or i've got a good teacher." you tease.
he gives you a squeeze before letting go, gesturing toward the cans, "c'mon, let's see if you can do it again."
emboldened by your first success, you square your shoulders and take aim. this time, you focus a bit more, remembering the sensation of the recoil and trying to replicate it. the shot rings out, and you open your eyes to find another can hit.
billy lightly claps you on the back, "see? just like that, sweetheart."
as you reload, you can't help but appreciate the way the afternoon sun plays on his weathered hat, casting thin rays upon his lips, "m’not as hopeless as i thought."
he grins, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "do i e’ver lie to you?”
you ignore his sly remark, focusing back in on your targets. with newfound confidence, you continue to practice, the rhythmic sound of gunshots filling the air. as the sun begins its descent, casting a warm glow over the landscape.
the sounds of gunfire continue, each shot feeling more controlled and confident than the last. with every successful hit, billy's pride in your progress shines through his loving stare. he stands by your side, offering guidance and encouragement, a quiet guardian in the backdrop of your learning.
as the sun dips even lower, casting a dim hue over the landscape, you catch a glimpse of billy watching you with a softness in his eyes. he often got this way, completely lost in you. especially when you're doing things his way— not in the way you'd normally feel inclined. you're rather tame and harmless in comparison to billy, the entire west, really.
growing up away from the fast-growing townships and travelers, when you met billy he completely flipped your world upside down. you gave him all your firsts, shooting his pistol only adds to the expansive list of firsts you've given him.
you go to take aim again, eyes closing as you shoot, still too frightened to keep them open— your bullet flies past your targets, missing entirely. you've grown used to the sound of a hit and when you open your eyes to find the miss, you groan.
billy's safeguarding nature becomes even more apparent as you meet his winsome eyes, his gaze lingers on you, subtle worry etched on his features.
he knows you're inexperienced, a stark contrast to the harsh realities of the world he's accustomed to. he knows it isn't, but if this were a shootout, that big of a miss would have cost you your life.
the mere thought of you in that situation is something he's not willing to entertain.
"you're doing mighty fine, sweetheart," he reassures, a tenderness in his voice that speaks volumes, "but remember, there's more to this than cans and targets. gotta keep those pretty eyes of yours open, alright?"
you nod, appreciating his concern and the earnest care he extends. it dawns on you that learning to shoot isn't just a practical skill— it's a testament to the depth of billy's affection. he's arming you with more than just a handgun— he's giving you a piece of his own resilience and determination.
as the sun sets, casting long shadows across the landscape, you take a moment to stand side by side with billy, appreciating the warmth of his presence. the sky paints hues of orange and pink, a picturesque backdrop to the bond that's been forged between you.
"thanks, billy," you say, sincerity lacing your words. "for teaching me, for being patient."
he smiles, a softness in his expression that contrasts with the rugged exterior, "my pleasure, sweetheart. always want you to be able to take care of yourself."
with the last rays of sunlight fading, you holster the gun, feeling a newfound sense of empowerment. billy wraps an arm around your shoulders, guiding you back towards the homestead. as you walk together, the echoes of gunshots in the ears serve as a reminder that you're not just learning to shoot— you're learning to navigate billy's world, and with his protection, you're sure you'll do just fine.
—reblog and like if you enjoyed, let ur local writer know you like her work !
#billy the kid#billy bonney#billy the kid x reader#billy bonney x reader#william h bonney#william h bonney x reader#tom blyth!billy the kid#tom blyth#coriolanus x reader
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The Gunslinger
Boxer!Abby Anderson x F!Reader
Main Masterlist | Abby Anderson Masterlist
Author’s note: From the results of my poll! Next up is Gym Owner!Abby and an Abby x Reader x Ellie roommate threesome!! (｡◕‿◕｡)
Summary: Your friend, Tyler, drags you to your first boxing match one night. You're expecting to not have any fun at all until you lay your eyes on The Gunslinger also known as Abby Anderson. She spots you during the match but you chalk it up to random eye contact she makes with her fans. What happens when she finds you alone after the match?
Word count: 2.7k
Warnings: reader is able-bodied, no outbreak au, idk if the boxing rules + the match are accurate I am but a simpleton, soft dom!Abby, dub con (reader has consumed alcohol), semi public sex, oral sex (reader receiving), strap sucking, strap fucking (reader receiving), Abby refers to the strap as her cock, reader is shorter than Abby but than that no physical descriptions used, nipple play, pet names (good girl & pretty girl), slight degradation (whore), no aftercare, no use of y/n
You’re not going to enjoy yourself. No one in their right mind wants to spend their evening sitting shoulder to shoulder in uncomfortable stands, surrounded by drunk assholes screaming their heads off. And yet here you are, sitting shoulder to shoulder in said uncomfortable stands, holding your overpriced beer in one hand and covering your ear with the other. You’re wearing a skirt and the itchy wood is irritating the back of your thighs. This was all a mistake. Why did you agree to this?
Oh right, it’s because your friend Tyler convinced you to come.
“Can you at least act like you’re having a good time? We’re right in the front row,” he says, pulling your hand away from your ear.
“I’ll try but no promises.”
“You’ll change your mind once you see the Gunslinger, trust me.”
“What’s so special about her?” you ask, chugging your beer so you don’t have to hold it any longer.
“One of the best sluggers I’ve ever seen. Seriously, her uppercuts are devastating.”
“Whatever you say,” you respond, rolling your eyes.
“Do you wanna know why they call her the Gunslinger?” he asks. After every response he turns his gaze across the ring, staring at something but you can’t make out what.
“Sure.”
“Because she’s got the fucking cannons, man.”
“Cannons and guns are two different things.”
“You know what I meant. Seriously, the biceps on this woman are insane.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“You’ll be eating your words later.”
He turns his gaze away from you again and this time you see what he’s looking at– a woman sitting in the front row on the opposite side of the ring. She notices him and smiles. You recognize her as the woman he was chatting up when he was in line grabbing your beers.
“You’ve been making eyes at her since we got here.”
“I have not.”
“Yes, you have. And I’d be willing to bet she’s into you, too.”
“...You really think so?”
You open your mouth to respond but Tyler interrupts and so does the crowd, your ears ringing from their boisterous shouts. The announcer steps into the ring, microphone in one hand and the other raised in the air. He’s wearing a black suit and a wide grin, just admiring the way the audience cheers for him, not even one of the boxers.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! And welcome to tonight’s match. Tonight promises to be a classic with the lineup we have for ya.”
“First up we got a rookie in the ring. Fighting out of the blue corner is the Iron Fist, Fiona Finster!”
You turn your head towards the hallway the announcer is pointing at where you see the silhouette of a woman; tall, bulky, a fucking unit. She steps into the ring and sheds her silky white robe, embroidered with The Iron Fist in royal blue lettering. She’s wearing a black sports bra, royal blue shorts, and gloves to match the lettering on her robe. The audience cheers for her but you’re stuck staring at the sheer size of her. If this is a rookie… then what does the Gunslinger look like?
“Next up we have a legend entering the ring. You know her. You love her. Fighting out of the red corner. It’s the Gunslinger, Abby Anderson!”
Entering the ring is a woman who makes the Iron Fist look like a wimp. She’s taller and absurdly muscular, wearing black boxing gloves. Her robe is also black and on the back, in shiny silver letters, it reads The Gunslinger. She takes it off and hands it to who is presumably her coach. Once the robe is gone you can see everything much better and Tyler was right. She really does have the fucking cannons. Her skin is shiny, the bright lights reflecting off her muscles, and her dirty blonde hair is pulled back into a braid. She scans the crowd, mouth curled into a smirk as she watches how the audience cheers for her. She’s confident, well-liked and she knows it. You feel no better than a man the way you’re ogling her, admiring the way the muscles in her back stretch out the fabric of the charcoal gray sports bra she’s wearing. She’s just… impressive in every way and with a body like that the nickname Gunslinger feels earned.
Before she’s finished showing off for the crowd her eyes land on you, meeting your gaze and flashing you a smile. Your cheeks heat up in… embarrassment? No, that’s not right. Flattery? Maybe.
Or it’s probably because you just formed a strong attraction to this woman. And it’s probably the look on your face that gave it away. Your eyes go wide as you stare at her, your mouth falling open in a soft O.
Whatever, the eye contact probably didn’t mean anything. She probably does that with lots of people in the audience; her fans. Unless…
No stop right there. She’s a professional and you’re just a spectator, nothing more. That meant nothing.
The referee enters the ring and goes over the rules with the two women. And once again as she’s listening to the ref she looks past his head and glances at you again. The eye contact is intense, almost too much to bear but you can’t look away. It’s the type of eye contact one would show someone if they’re trying to assert their dominance. As far as you’re concerned, she can dominate you all she wants.
The boxers bump gloves and the first round begins. It’s one of the most enthralling sporting events you’ve ever witnessed. Tyler hands you his beer, too focused on the match to worry about drinking it. But you’re not about to waste the shitty, overpriced beer so you down it, setting the plastic cup on the floor. Despite being an absolute unit, the Gunslinger is quick on her feet, evading most if not all of the Iron Fist’s punches. Every blow the Gunslinger delivers is powerful, making you wince just from observing them. You’re actually enjoying yourself but you don’t know if it’s from the riveting match or if it’s because you’re a little tipsy. Regardless, this is the best turn of events. And the Gunslinger is easy on the eyes.
The match flies by round after round until it’s the final one. You’ve never been to a boxing match before but supposedly the judges don’t announce the score until the match is over.
But that wouldn’t even matter.
Because the Gunslinger delivers a devastating blow to the Iron First– a knockout, right in her jaw. The opponent is off her feet for more than ten seconds. And once the referee finishes his count to ten the match is over. The crowd erupts into overwhelming celebratory cheers.
“And the winner is Abby The Gunslinger Anderson!” the announcer exclaims.
Everyone rises from the stands, hands in the air and cheering loudly. The Gunslinger is presented with a gold belt, throwing it over her shoulder like a sash. She raises her gloved hands in the air, basking in all the applause. She makes eye contact with you again for the third time. This has to mean something, right?
Before she exits the ring, she winks at you, smiling once more. And with that, she’s gone and while you’re left reeling from the intense eyefucking the crowd starts to leave, moving as a large hoard.
“Fuck, Tyler! Go find that girl before she leaves!” you say, elbowing him.
“Really? You’ll be okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll meet you out front. Just go talk to her before she leaves,” you say, urging him to go.
You remain on the bench, waiting for the crowd to dissipate before moving. The night’s events replay in your mind and you’re amazed you had any fun. Though, it’s hard to tell if you had fun because of the boxing or because of subtle flirting from the Gunslinger. Either way, you’d come back for another match.
Eventually, the crowd disperses and you start to leave, heading to the parking lot to meet Tyler. You’re about to push the door open when a hand on your shoulder stops you in your tracks. Expecting it to be Tyler you turn around and ask, “Did you get her number or what?”
“Whose number?”
Except it’s not Tyler. It’s the Gunslinger.
“Oh, I’m sorry! I thought you were my friend.”
“It’s just me.”
You’re stunned, mouth opening to speak but no words coming out.
“Abby,” she continues.
“Right! That was a good match,” you say, struggling to form a coherent sentence.
“Thanks,” she chuckles, “I’ve never seen you here before. This your first one?”
“Yes,” you admit.
“Did you like it?” she asks, raising her arm above her head and leaning against the wall, inching closer to you. She towers over you but you catch a glimpse of what’s behind her— people who are still lingering around, just like you.
She catches you looking past her and looks over her shoulder. She exhales and says, “Don’t worry about them. Focus on this.”
“Right,” you say with a shaky breath, painfully aware of all the eyes on you. She turns her gaze back to you, blue eyes staring into yours. Now she’s closer you notice the freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose and her cheeks.
“Or I can take you somewhere that’s more… private?”
You pause for a moment, thinking about Tyler before quickly deciding that he’s still talking to that girl. You didn’t get a text from him either.
“Please,” you say.
She stands up straighter, removing her arm from the wall and grabbing your hand. She leads you away from the exit doors and towards the hallway she entered, walking right past the group of people who noticed you two in the first place. She holds her head high, not caring about the stares as she brings you to her locker room.
She shuts the door behind you and immediately presses you up against the wall. She palms your thigh, hand inching up closer towards the hem of your skirt.
“You didn’t tell me your name,” she says in your ear. You don’t need to see her face to know that she’s wearing a smirk.
You tell her your name with a shaky breath and she repeats it to herself before saying, “Are you gonna be my good girl?”
“Fuck,” you curse under your breath, a shiver running down your spine.
She grabs you by the waist, dragging you to the bench and forcing you to sit down. She kneels on the floor, one hand rubbing your inner thigh and the other pushing you so you’re lying down on the bench. You hear her reach for her bag and out of the corner of your eye you spot her grabbing a pair of trainer’s scissors, like the kind used to remove gauze and tape from wrapped hands. She hikes up your skirt and you feel the cold metal slide across your skin as she cuts off your panties.
“Shit,” you breathe out, feeling her muscular hands pull the fabric off of you.
“Look at you, already dripping for me,” she says, pulling your thighs apart. “Did you get wet watching me fight?”
“Fuck… Yes, I did,” you admit.
“Eyeing me up and down like a whore in my own ring?” she says, getting closer to your pussy. She goes to eat you out, mouth hovering over your clit and warm breath sending a shiver up your core.
“Eyes on me or you don’t get cum. Got it?”
You rest on your elbows, propping yourself up to get a good view of her face buried between your thighs. Her tongue laps at your pussy, swirling around your clit all while her eyes are on you, watching the way your mouth falls open and the way your chest heaves. Her tongue circles your entrance, nose grinding against your clit as her strong arms wrap around your thighs. Fuck, her arms. The veins bulge from her muscles as she keeps a firm grip on you, keeping you flush against her face while she eats you out. The pleasure builds and for a split second close your eyes. But that just won’t do.
She stops, pulling her face back slightly and saying, “What did I say, pretty girl? Eyes on me.”
You open your eyes again, meeting her stern gaze before she goes back to licking your cunt. She squeezes your thighs tighter as she flicks her tongue around your clit before sucking it. A loud moan escapes your lips as she brings you to the edge of orgasm. You cum hard against her face, pussy clenching around nothing and thighs shaking under her grasp. She laps up every last drop of your release before letting you go, rising from the floor and reaching for her bag again.
“Strip for me,” she commands while searching for something.
You pull yourself off the bench, legs shaking underneath you. As you strip your clothes you watch her grab a black strap-on from her bag.
“Do you do this with all your groupies?” you tease.
“Just the pretty ones,” she says, shedding her clothes and putting on the strap, “Now, back on the bench.”
You sit, waiting for further instructions, but instead, she grabs the back of your head and brings you to the tip of her strap.
“Be a good girl and suck my cock,” she says, stroking your cheek lovingly.
You open your mouth and take the tip of the strap in your mouth, wrapping your hand around the base. You bob your head up and down, making sure the strap gets nice and slick, all while maintaining eye contact like you know she likes. Her hand continues to caress your cheek as you suck her off, putting effort in like it’s a real cock she can get pleasure from.
But once she’s decided you’ve done enough, she pulls out of her mouth and pushes you down on the bench. Her strong hands pull your thighs apart again, the tip of the strap aligning with your entrance. Her hands grip your waist as she thrusts into you in one swift motion. You gasp at the sudden length and girth but she brings a hand to the outline of your breast, caressing it before pinching your nipple and saying, “You can take it.”
You nod, looking into her piercing eyes and spreading your legs even wider to accommodate how broad she is. She pinches your other nipple as she draws her hips back and slams into you. Off to your right, you hear people outside the door, shuffling down the hallway. But you’re unable to hold back your moans, not with the way she’s fucking you.
“Abby, what if someone hears?” you manage to choke out.
“Let them,” she says, thrusting into you harder.
“Oh, fuck,” you curse, stars dancing in your vision.
Her hands move to your waist and her strong arms hold you down, her fingers sinking into your skin as she grips you tightly. She pulls you into her all while she thrusts into you. And with one last slam of her hips, you come undone around her, pussy clenching her cock while she fuck you through your release.
“That’s right. Cum on my cock, pretty girl,” she says, her jaw slack and watching how pretty you look when you cum.
Once you’re done, she pulls out of you, standing up to take off the strap and get dressed again. You lie there trying to catch your breath and once she’s clothed she kneels by your side, handing you your clothes and saying, “Come to another match sometime.”
She kisses you, hand gripping your grin before she rises from the floor and grabs her bag, leaving you there in the locker room; a naked, shivering mess.
You sit up and reach for your phone, hastily texting Tyler to tell him you’ll be out front soon. While you wait for his response you notice that your shredded panties are gone, meaning that she must’ve taken them, another kind of trophy for her from this evening. He responds with a thumbs up and you collapse back down onto the bench, giving yourself more time to recollect yourself and replaying the night’s activities in your head.
Maybe boxing isn’t so bad.
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#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson x you#abby anderson smut#abby anderson fanfiction#abby anderson x f!reader#abby anderson x female reader#tlou fanfiction#the last of us fanfiction#abby tlou#abby anderson#tlou 2 remastered#tlou 2#abby anderson fanfic
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Hi there! Saw your request for ideas, maybe smutty ones….what if Arthur and s/o have a bet or challenge for trying to entice the other into sex is a public place? The fear and/or embarrassment of getting caught? Doesn’t matter where-in camp, in an alley in town, in some random person’s barn….can’t keep their hands off each other, yet trying to see how far the other is wiling to go. You can make this a headcannon, one-shot story, or weave it into something else?
Just an idea. No pressure. 😉
Ohh - I kinda did a little twist on this, I hope you still like it!
Barely Hidden
Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader
Smut (18+), MDNI
There’s a certain thrill with getting away with it. Like robbing an idiot blind or sneaking away right from under the law’s nose. It should be no surprise that outlaws like to live on the edge, always on the verge of getting caught.
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Your nails dig into the bark of the tree as Arthur’s breath ghosts over your neck. His large hands encircle your hips, as he presses his up against yours, breathing heavily, gritting his teeth, trying to keep quiet.
He fists your skirts in one hand, the other spread wide over your back, as you’re bent halfway over, leaning on the tree, his large frame moving behind you.
A soft, quiet moan spills from your lips as he slides his cock in and out of your warmth. His hand moves from your back to cover your mouth.
“Swear, agh, yer tryin’ to get us caught.” He whispers, leaning to plaster his front against your back.
“You’re the one, oh, that couldn’t wait-” You hiss back at him, nudging his hand away from your mouth as you press your hips backward to meet his thrusts.
He rolls his hips against your rear, his breathing getting heavier as he increases the speed of his thrusts. You want to mewl aloud, he’s hitting that spot with every stroke.
“Who’s there?” John calls out into the night from his post of guard duty.
Arthur grunts, jutting hard into your hips in surprise, and before he can slow himself down or collect himself, he’s rapidly jerking his cock from your hips, spurting on the backs of your thighs seemingly without warning.
You gasp, pulling away from him, letting your skirts fall to your ankles as the uncomfortable dribble of his hot spend trails down your thighs. Leaning your back against the tree, you catch your breath, facing him.
“It’s just me, idiot.” Arthur calls into the night, very quickly collecting himself and tucking his still-hard cock into his pants and rebuttoning them.
“You - you liked that.” You point at his chest, “We almost got caught and you…”
“Hush, woman. We’ve done enough tonight. Back to your tent before someone really catches us.” Arthur pushes you back toward the camp, and in the dark night, you cannot see how deeply he’s blushing.
But you have an idea. A terribly wonderful idea.
-
Several days pass before you have a chance to test your idea. Clemens Point was blessedly spread out along the shores of Flat Iron Lake, with a ridge just north of the camp that served as a place of refuge should someone from the gang want to be alone.
“Hey there, darlin’. What’re you doin out here?”
You squint against the setting sun in the west, placing your hand in front of your face looking up at your gunslinger, as he moseys toward where you sit, at the bottom of the small ridge where the dirt meets the sand.
“Waitin’ for you there, cowboy.” You smile as he stands several steps in front of you, blocking the sun from your eyes.
“Waitin’ for me to what?” Arthur asks, hands on his gunbelt.
You give him a sweet, overly saccharine smile.
You pull your skirts up, baring your knees, then your thighs…
“What are you doin?” Arthur’s eyes widen as he jerks his head to see where people are mulling about, not fifty feet away in the evening sun, just over the ridge of rock along the shoreline.
“Mmm, nothin.” You sigh, your skirts flicking upward to show him that you forewent bloomers today. A devious smirk crosses your face as you expose your cunt to him, your folds glistening with moisture, already aroused thinking of him taking you in the daylight, just on the outskirts of camp, with everyone awake.
“You goddamn tease.” He grits, narrowing his eyes as he stalks closer to you. You would think he’s angry, but you don’t miss the growing bulge in his pants and how his hand nudges at it to adjust himself.
“Ain’t a tease if I put out for you, love,” You lay back against the stone, opening your legs wider, “Come and get me, Arthur.”
His gunbelt is on the ground in a single step as he starts unbuttoning his pants. Before he sinks to his knees, he gives one last look over the ridge, scanning the gang finishing their dinner and mulling about the campfire before the sun sets.
“Scared of gettin’ caught?” You ask in a kittenish way, baring your neck as your knees swing open and closed, open and closed, as he gets on his knees a step away from you.
“I think you like that idea, woman.” With one hand, he pulls his cock from his trousers, the other, he grabs your thigh, pulling your body closer to his.
“Mm, I think you-” You are cut off as you gasp, he presses the head of his cock within you with the practiced ease of being lovers, so intimately familiar with each other’s bodies.
He spreads himself over you, pressing his lips to yours, his days old beard scratching against your chin. You grab at his hat, tossing it to the side, and run your fingers through his short hair as you open your mouth and let his tongue press against yours as he slides completely within you.
You cant your hips forward, taking him deeper, and a rumble moves up from his throat into your mouth as he starts to thrust his hips into yours, digging his hands into the sandy dirt beneath you.
You moan into his mouth as he moves above you, thrusting hard and fast, and the excitement of it all has you careen headlong into an orgasm that makes your back arch and him grunt in approval.
He retracts his hips just in time, shooting his spend on the ground between your legs, panting, his forehead pressed against yours.
You smirk against his lips as he pants, giggling softly.
“Yer a goddamn minx, woman.”
“Yeah, and you like it.”
-
Arthur knew what you were doing the second he saw that glimmer in your eye. Two could play at this game.
You should have known what this would turn into.
It was turning into a raging, burning fire between the two of you, reigniting passion and neediness like in the beginning of your relationship, when you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other.
Which is exactly the problem you have now.
It was just a ride to Rhodes and back. Just to check the mail. But as the moon shone high above Scarlett Meadows, Arthur swings off his horse outside a work barn outside of town, dragging you down before handily hauling your body against him.
“You keep talking like that, woman, I swear, I’m gonna-”
“You’re gonna what, cowboy?”
Arthur nearly growls, shoving his mouth against yours and near devouring you whole. He walks you backwards, taking only a moment to unlatch the door to the barn and pushing you inside before closing it behind him.
He grabs your shoulders, manhandling you into a shadowed, empty stall as he presses himself against you, the long line of him hard and ready.
“C’mon, little lady.” He rumbles and a shiver of delight rolls down your spine.
“Get on the floor. Gonna ride you the way you deserve it.” You pant against him, your hands pressing against the hard muscles of his abdomen, in vain trying move the mountain of him.
Arthur grins like a damn Cheshire cat, moving himself next to a crate and sinking down to his knees as he undoes his gun belt, tossing it next to him as he lays out on the wooden floor. You hike up your skirts as you stand above his hips, to show him, again, that you forwent bloomers.
“Christ, woman.” Arthur’s eyes widen as he desperately shrugs his suspenders down his arms before unbuttoning his trousers and shoving them down his thighs, his heavy, engorged cock bobbing against his stomach.
You lower yourself to your knees, and without pretense or preamble, grasp his cock and guide yourself onto it, sliding down his hard inches until your rear meets his hips. He swears, blinking up to the roof, his hands flying to your waist as you place yours upon the planes of his hard chest, your fingers grasping at the black work shirt he was wearing.
You roll your hips forward, slowly at first, as you grow used to the stretch of him within you, but soon enough, your speed picks up, and he pants, his mouth falling open as you gyrate over his cock.
“Tha’s it, that’s it, come on, ride me-” Arthur groans, thrusting his hips upward against your movements, until, that is, the barn door swings open.
“Whoever’s in here, get the hell out before I shoot ya!” A voice calls out in the stillness, and you hear the racking of a shotgun and heavy footfalls as a man enters the space.
You slap a hand over Arthur’s mouth, as his eyes widen. You try to sit still, splayed over Arthur’s hips, but you can see his eyes flutter and feel his stomach muscles clench against your other hand.
You give him a warning look, and he squeezes his eyes shut, his fingers tightening almost painfully around your waist.
The farmer walks past the stall, the rifle in his hands as he scans the barn. All he would need to do is take one step in your direction and he would find you two behind the crate, Arthur laid out with you atop him, blessedly hidden by your skirts, but it would be obvious what you were doing.
Arthur’s hips jut up and your eyes shoot back to him, about to throttle the damn man, when you see it's a lost cause. With the farmer only a few steps away, Arthur’s eyes cross and you can feel his cock twitch within you, warmth flooding your hips as he spends himself buried in your cunt.
It's everything you are not to moan aloud, and with your free hand, you cover your own mouth as you watch the man unravel beneath you, breathing hard against your palm, his eyes rolling back into his head, his hips giving little pulses upward as he fills you, unable to hold back, utterly and completely wrecked.
The farmer is still mulling about the barn, and you’re close to yanking one of the revolvers from Arthur’s discarded belt and shooting the man dead so you can continue to ride this man as his convulsing cock finally stills.
Arthur seems to regain some of his wits, but none of his caution, as one of his hands leaves your waist and burrows under your skirt, his thumb pressing right above where he’s buried within you. You jolt as he finds what he’s looking for, that nub of nerve endings that drives you wild.
Your eyes widen as your breathing gets shallow, the damn farmer is still in the barn, and Arthur is hell bent on making you come. If you two get out of this without getting shot, lord, is he going to get it from you.
You grind down on his hand as he feverishly rubs at you, throwing your head back, your hands still covering both of your mouths.
When you fall over that edge, it’s everything you are not to cry out, not to scream his name, not to gasp and moan and cry and tell him you love him as he works you through a shuddering release, his blue eyes locked on you and his head nodding back and forth to spur you on.
You basically collapse over him, his arms wrap tightly around your waist as you try to control your breathing.
The barn door shuts and you give a sigh of relief.
“I cannot believe you, Arthur Morgan.” You scold him, finally removing your hand from over his mouth. You press yourself up on his chest to sit above him.
Arthur pants, a smile crossing his features before he sits up and chases your lips. With him still nestled within your hips, he tangles his hands in your hair as he kisses you with a passion not nearly fazed by coming down from his orgasm. He pulls away only slightly, kissing the underside of your jaw.
“Maybe I do enjoy it.”
#rdr2 fanfic#arthur morgan x reader#rdr#red dead redemption#red dead fandom#red dead redemption 2#red dead fanfic#red dead smut#arthur morgan smut#arthur morgan x female reader#twolafic#tumblr prompt#voluptatem
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Maybe pt. 7
Pairing: Norm MacLean X Female Reader or OC if you squint
Former friends to a relationship?
Life is pretty easy in Vault 33 until you're trying to rekindle a former friendship and Raiders attack. Now, our main characters are trying to navigate newfound feelings, all while undercovering the mysteries of Vault 33. Stay tuned. Follows the main storyline of season 1; some events may be reordered for plot.
Norm navigates his decision to aid Lucy's escape from the Vault with help from his friends, finding comfort and another demotion on the table.
Part 1 Here. Part 6 Here
Part 2 Here Part 8 Here
Part 3 Here Part 9 Here
Part 4 Here Part 10 Here
Part 5 Here Part 11 Here
Norm had quite the day and was ready for it to end. The post-events of the raider attack and his sister leaving the Vault to find their dad had left him physically and emotionally exhausted. He didn’t know how much more he had left in him. So when he heard a soft knock at the door of his outer living space, he wasn’t sure if he was in the headspace to deal with a visitor inquiring about his dad… or sister, for that matter, as it wouldn’t be long before the word on her rescue mission got out.
When the pressurized door unlocked, he was relieved to see it was you standing at the threshold.
“Hey, I don’t mean to bother you,” you started, but he waved off your apology. “No, it’s alright. What’s going on?” He asked, genuinely curious.
“I came by to check in and see if you needed anything or wanted to talk—or not talk,” you added quickly. “I can do that too if you want some company.” You fidgeted with your hair, not quite knowing how to word the next part. “I just know how weird going from a full house to an empty one can be,” you trailed off.
Norm perked up at the thought of spending time with you; maybe he had a little more social battery left. “Yeah, actually, that sounds nice,” he mused, stepping aside to let you in. “Though, I don’t think I have it in me to do much talking. I can put something on if that’s alright with you?”
“Sounds perfect,” you reply, moving into the MacLean’s living room and claiming a spot on the couch.
Norm flipped on the Radiation King television set, the box coming to life with grey images of cowboys fighting gunslingers from an old copy of “The Man from Deadhorse,” his dad’s favorite already queued up. Immediately no. “Let’s try something else. Any requests?” Norm asked, not feeling like dredging up any emotions associated with putting on a Western.
“Dealers choice.”
“Communists from Space! It is,” Norm decides, grabbing the next available tape, popping it in, and joining you on the couch.
The two of you start off silent, attempting to enjoy the film with the limited social interaction Norm requested, but before long, neither of you can resist adding your own color commentary to the events on the screen.
“I’m confused,” you interrupt. “Doesn’t a communist invasion from space imply that the containment policy failed in Europe, Asia, and now space? They’re suggesting America is losing on all fronts.”
Norm snorted. “I appreciate that your suspension of disbelief stops at American geopolitics and not at the fact that those space helmets aren’t connected to any source of oxygen.”
“I’m asking the real questions here, Norm,” you giggle back.
“I think the bigger question you need to ask is how the communists even managed to get the alien forces on their side? Cause there’s no way there’s a shared language.”
“I’d guess propaganda and the universal promise of American government secrets,” you deadpan.
That sent you both into a fit of roaring, sidebusting laughter.
As the laughter subsides, Norm announces, “Thank you for this. I didn’t realize how much I needed it until now.” He was grateful for the company but also for your ability to make him feel whole after the events of the last couple of days. No obsessing over the concerns about his family or what you two saw in 32, just time he was able to be Norm.
“Of course, if you haven’t noticed by now, I really enjoy our time together,” you say, unable to control the blush rising to your cheekbones.
“I do, too, and I hope I’m not being presumptuous by saying I would like to continue spending more time like this together,” Norm stated, trying to gauge the status of where the two of you stood. Was this friendship, or were you moving into the “something more” territory?
“Not presumptuous of you at all,” you affirm, taking the opportunity to position yourself closer to Norm on the couch. He stiffened slightly, surprised by the contact of your vault suit against his, but took your repositioning as a sign to wrap his arm around your shoulders, “Is this alright?” he questions, ever the gentleman.
“Perfect,” you respond as you lean in to rest your head on his chest and watch the rest of the movie.
Something more, alright, noted.
________________________
Norm is awoken by the sound of static on the television set and is momentarily disoriented when he realizes one, this wasn’t his bed; he was out on the couch, and two, the weight on his chest preventing him from sitting up was you curled up under his arm sleeping at his side. The two of you had fallen asleep on the couch sometime during the second movie you put on. He eased back down onto the sofa, intent on enjoying the moments before you both woke up.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
He feels you stir at the sound of your alarm and begin to reach over him to shut off the device. No, just a few more minutes, he wished.
“Sorry,” you manage sleepily, rolling the upper half of your body over Norm, grabbing the Pip-Boy, and quieting the beeping. Norm does his best to suppress his imagination from running wild over the nature of your position hovering over him as you turn off the alarm. In another swift motion, you move to sit up and stretch away some of the sleep. Norm does the same, hoping you won’t notice how much your simple actions affected him this morning. “I didn’t mean to stay the night and keep you out on the couch,” you continued, unsure if you overstayed your welcome.
“If it means you staying over, I’d gladly take the couch,” Norm replies, causing both of your cheeks to redden.
You linger, not wanting to leave but knowing you’d be late if you dawdled any longer. After checking the time on your Pip-Boy, you decide it’s time to get up from the sofa and move to the front entryway. “I’ve got to run and get cleaned up for work, but we can meet up after my shift if you’re up for it.”
“Definitely,” Norm assures. Everything else in his life might be turned upside down, but this was his one piece of solace.
“Okay, it’s a date,” sealing your statement with a kiss on Norm’s cheek before pressing the release button on the door. As the door slid open, you both were surprised to see Chet waiting outside, arm raised, ready to knock on Norm’s door, and he looked equally as surprised to see you leaving the MacLean residence so early in the morning. You decide to play it off as nonchalantly as you can.
You greeted Chet with a wave and a sweet, simple “Good Morning, Chet” as you hurriedly exited the hallway and headed toward your place. You trusted Norm could navigate a conversation with his cousin without your help.
Chet didn’t wait for Norm’s invitation to enter. He rushed into the MacLean domicile, making sure you were out of hearing distance, before he exclaimed, “Now, what’s going on with that?!” Gesturing wildly towards the direction you left from. “You had (Y/N) stay over? When did that start?”
Norm sighed and closed the door behind him, not eager to try to explain himself to his cousin. “It’s not like that,” he said, emphasizing the suggestive “that” Chet implied. “Nothing happened; she came over to watch a movie, and we fell asleep. Nothing to tell,” he wrapped up with a shrug. He wasn’t optimistic about his chances of ending the conversation with that explanation.
Chet looked at him and said, “Come on, Norm. You and I both know that when you invite a girl over to watch a movie, you’re not actually doing much movie-watching.”
“Gross,” Norm rebutted, knowing who the girl in question was. “Is this what you came over for? To traumatize me and dissect my relationship with (Y/N)?”
Chet frowned, not because of Norm’s taunting but because he was reminded of why he was here in the first place. Norm’s love life was a welcome distraction from the news he had to share. “No, I was supposed to inform you that the Vault council has summoned us for a hearing this morning. I’m starting to think they’re not pleased we helped Lucy.”
“Of course, they’re not. Did you think they were going to be? That we’d help her escape the Vault, and they’d give us a thumbs up and a sticker?” Norm asked. There was no way he was that naive.
_____________________________
Norm waited outside in the hallway while Chet took his turn meeting with the council. Suddenly, the silence in the corridor was broken by the sounds of sobbing and hyperventilating from behind the door. He guessed the council had made their decision.
The council room door slid up slowly, and Chet exited. His face was puffy, and his eyes were red from the bouts of crying behind closed doors. He wondered if they were particularly tough on him.
Norm decides to do the polite thing and asks him if he’s okay, even though his emotional state clearly displays the answer.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m being reassigned,” he replied with a strained thumbs up. “ You were right; the whole “opening the Vault door for Lucy” thing didn’t sit too well with the council, so I guess I’m not gatekeeper anymore,” he said, trying to hold his composure.
“It’s not a big deal.” Norm could see right through that lie. This was a massive deal. For most people in the Vault, their identity was intricately intertwined with the position they held in the Vault. Take that away, and you’ve got all the material for a full-blown identity crisis.
“I’m just not really sure who I even am anymore. Sorry…I. Mmhm.” Chet couldn’t hold himself together any longer, excusing himself from the conversation.
Woody appeared in the doorway, summoning him into the meeting. “Norman, you’re next.”
Norm finds his familiar seat in front of the council, and Reg wastes no time kicking it off. “You know why you’re in here?”
“Cause I helped my sister escape the Vault.” Cause I couldn’t just ignore my family in trouble.
“Escape?” Woody laughed. “ You and Chet put your sister in incredible danger by helping her out that Vault door. The rad levels up there alone….”
“Worse,” Reg interjects, trying to highlight a larger point,” you could have killed us all. What do you think started all this? These Vaults are impenetrable, meaning that those raiders could have only gotten into Vault 32 because some bonehead opened the door to the surface.” He wasn’t like they didn’t take this into consideration, but some things are worth the risk.
Betty, who had been quiet until now, shooting Norm a glare that threatened to burn through him, piped up. “A single bad decision put everyone at risk, not just Vault 32 but 33 and 31 as well. I telegrammed with the Overseer at Vault 31. Thank goodness, they’re unscathed. But you could have destroyed the last vestiges of civilization.”
“It was Lucy’s idea.” Maybe playing the dumb coward could work in his favor.
“And you didn’t think to at least try and stop her?”
“No.”
“What are we going to do with you?” Betty asked. He wasn’t quite sure if it was rhetorical.
“You were going to reassign me a couple of weeks ago; move forward with that, I guess,” Norm resigned, but he was growing tired of the council’s hypocrisy, and the next lines just slipped out. “I’m just glad to hear that we punish people down here for breaking the rules. Is that just for Vault dwellers or people who come down here and murder vault dwellers?” He made his position on the matter as clear as possible.
Betty smirked at his statement, “Now that I think of it, we’ve got a job for you, after all,” as if she had been waiting for a chance to punish his insolence.
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Letters Keep Me Warm
♡o。.✿ฺ Paring // Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader
♡o。.✿ฺ Summary // Johnny catches sight of Ghost writing to a special someone.
♡o。.✿ฺ (A/n) // Inspired by “Gunslinger” by Avenged Sevenfold. Again Tumblr is being a huge pain. Is anyone else having problems with Tumblr?
♡o。.✿ฺ Word Count // 413
♡o。.✿ฺ Content Warnings // Gender neutral reader, established relationship, very fluffy…
“For someone who seems cold…” Johnny peers over Ghost’s shoulder, “You do love writing letters to this (Y/n).” He dodges Ghost’s fist, “Sorry mate!” He nervously laughs, keeping a good distance between him and Ghost.
“What do you want, Johnny?”
“Jus’ wanted to see what was keepin’ you busy.”
Ghost continues to ignore Johnny’s questions, whacking him whenever he gets too close. He sealed the letter, writing the address and sending it off. It wasn’t long before Johnny began telling Gaz about his findings, but it was only him who had the nerve to pester Ghost about it. That’s until…
“Letter for Ghost!” A soldier shouted, the letter in hand. Ghost didn’t bother to silence the soldier, all he cared about was the letter.
He found a private spot, ripping open the envelope.
Sorry for writing so late. I would’ve written sooner if it wasn’t severe weather. Don’t worry, everything is perfectly fine. Now I hope this letter arrives on time. I got your book that you ordered, should’ve known you were into the sickening love story of friends to lovers. Classic Simon. The puppy you brought before is doing well, she’s quite an eater.
But I’m sure you didn’t wait months for my letter just to hear about the puppy, even though you do have a soft spot for her. I miss you, Simon, and even though it’s your job, I can’t help but worry. I trust you, and I know you always come home. I’ll be waiting for you.
With love, (N/n)
P.S, a ‘friend’ of yours stopped by, it was hard to understand what he was saying because of his scottish accent.
“You’re not a lap dog!” You wince and laugh, watching the large dog get comfortable on your lap. You didn’t have the heart to tell her to get down, she was too cute!
Simon’s letter, you held tightly onto that, afraid to let it go.
Hey love, I know I was supposed to arrive weeks ago but we got held back. This will probably be the last letter before I have to go dark again. I know it’s difficult for you, and I’m sorry. I’m just happy that you are willing to wait for me. You know writing small isn’t my best ability and with this small paper, there’s only so much I can tell you but, I will forever love you.
From, Ghost
It was clear from the start how little information Ghost tries to leave behind, he’s worried about enemies intercepting the letters. Which is why you sighed with a nickname and not your full name.
P.S, the ‘friend’ won’t bother you anymore.
“What?” You stared at the letter, confused, flipping around trying to find out what he meant.
“I don’t know what yer talking about.” Johnny silently snickers, “I haven’t left the base in the past week.”
“I ain’t talking about the past week, I’m talking about the past few months.” Ghost crosses arms as he glares at Johnny, “How’d you find her?”
Johnny jumps to his feet with a cocky smile on his face, “Let’s just say it’s a brother’s intuition.”
© Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without permission.
…
#x reader#fluff#cod mw#cod mw22#cod modern warfare#cod x reader#cod x you#cod ghost#cod soap#johnny soap mactavish#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#ghost x y/n#ghost x reader#ghost x you#x gender neutral reader
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Trouble makers (Zolu x reader)
Zoro x Luffy x Reader. Reader is GN and a gunslinger of the crew. polly relationship, established releatinship.
Plot: The new island you docked on seems peaceful until a strange rumble catches you all off guard.
Warning: none.
part 2 Part 3
The most beautiful island you have ever seen was right in front of you. The sky was a light blue with only a few white puffy clouds that touched the top of a large pointed mountain on the other side of the island. Small houses lined perfectly across the front of the island, a large forest in between the village and the mountain, even though it was dense it was bright with large white birds you have never seen before flying over head. Its sights like this that made you want to join the crew in the first place and your glad you did. This place was beyond stunning and with the wind lightly blowing the salty sea air in your face it gave you a sense of peace. Your mind only focused on the sight before you from the sunny, it docked almost thirty minutes ago but you couldn't pry your eyes away form the island. no matter how long you looked you noticed new things, new animals and smells. you let out a soft breath as you leaned your hands on the sunny's railings basking in the sun.
Zoro had just woken up from his nap to find they were docked on a new island. it seems they didn't need his help docking or they couldn't wake him to help either way he didn't care. Adjusting his swords on his hip the swords man made his way down the steps onto the grass of the sunny's main area spotting his two lovers, one looking out at the island and the other sitting on the mast's round bench pouting looking over at Y/N. A small smile appeared on his face approaching his captain "You ok Luffy?" the words seem to shock Luffy out of his trance and pounced on Zoro giving him a hug "Your awake. i tried waking you but you didn't budge" his arms and legs wrapped around the large man slightly pulling away to poke Zoro's face, now with the pout back on his face. Zoro raised an eyebrow one arm under his captain keeping him up and the other leaning on his swords "we'll im awake now. What's got you all pouty?" he asks knowing there's more too it than just him not waking up. Luffy looks back at you with a sigh "I keep calling them but they won't answer or even look at me" Zoro lets out a small laugh "Captain, you know how they get when it comes to a new island. Y/N is probably in their own little world right now" The captain looks back at his first mate, he new you loved the sights but you never ignored him. "Come on lets go snap them out of it" Zoro says running a finger under luffy's chin before kissing him lightly on the lips. Luffy smiles at this and kisses back before nodding.
Your snapped out of your little world by a strong hand gripping your shoulder squeezing it to get your attention. You turn to see Zoro, his hand on you shoulder and Luffy with his legs wrapped around Zoro's torso a big smile on his face that turned into a pout once he noticed you looking at him "You were ignoring me" he simply says making your eyes soften and place a hand on his cheek "Im sorry my captain. i didn't mean too, its just so beautiful" you say rubbing your thumb across his cheek "Your missing something" he says trying to stop a big smile form forming on his face but it didn't work. You laugh before placing a kiss on his cheek then his forehead and lastly his lips "Forgive me?" you asks after pulling away earning a nod from your captain. "Ok lets go on an adventure" Your captain drops out of Zoro's arms and points out to the island. it was sweet of him to wait for you two but he wanted to explore with the both of you by his side, his swords man and his gunslinger.
The town was some how quieter than you thought, it was a small town for an island of this size but there didn't seem to be many people on the streets, shops seemed closed down but that didn't bother you three, you knew the only ones it would bother would be Nami and Sanji who went out shopping as soon as you docked. Luffy was leading the way with you and Zoro behind him, your hand grasping onto the sleeve of his kimono making sure he doesn't go the wrong way. The towns people seemed friendly to your new faces so it put you at ease a bit more than you were before, Zoro was on edge though his eyes shifting to look at every place and every person, his eyes lingering on alleyways or dark areas a little longer. Luffy didn't notice anything strange, he was just happy to see a new place, maybe eat some food, he was trying to smell out food but there wasn't much to smell. A smoke like smell was the only thing that hit his nose, it wasn't a cooking smell though maybe a fire but there was no meat or fish smell that went along with it, he found it strange although didn't think too much of it. There were no marine bases or other pirate ships to worry about so you could all just relax and enjoy yourselves.
A while of walking later and you reached the edge of town looking into the forest. Just like you saw back on the ship it was dense and yet light still filled the forest. The light though was coming from the ground beautiful small flowers almost daisy like seemed to reflect and magnify any kind of sun light that hit them bouncing off to another flower who did the same almost like they were mirrors. The sight caught you off guard, you never knew this was possible and yet here it was, the light was a soft white hovering over the ground as green short grass swayed with the wind. Almost in a trance you let go of Zoro walking over to the forest and bending down to one of the small flowers. "Wow" you whisper to yourself catching the attention of Luffy how laughed and placed his hands on his hips "You want some?" he asks offering to pick some for you but you shook your head not wanting to disturb this forest "Thank you for the offer but... their to pretty to pick" you comment making him laugh again. Zoro walked up next to Luffy looking down at you before looking back up at the forest "Luffy, Y/N" he states grabbing a hold of his swords indicating that something was wrong. Luffy bunched his hands up into fists ready to punch what ever came your way. You stood up and put a hand on the gun on your waist just about to pull it out of the holster when a loud rumbling started, soon followed by the ground shaking violently. You all struggled to keep your footing a loud cracking noise came from different areas around the town, screams where heard some dissapearing. Your heart dropped feeling the ground beneath your feet open falling threw the ground, only a gasp left your lips the light fading as the ground above you closed over. You fell for a while only stopping when body hit hard angled rocks, the force rolling you until you splashed into freezing cold water.
Luffy noticed the ground bellow you open dropping you into it, he stretched his arm out to you the whole closing on his arm causing pain to shoot threw his body "Y/N" he screamed using his other hand to try and pry the whole open, He tried to stretch his arm down trying to reach you but it something on the way unable to force his arm threw it. The sounds and shaking stopped, Zoro realizing what happened pulled out two of his swords and stabbing them into the ground one on either side of Luffy's trapped arm. "On three pull" Zoro yelled counting down to three them both pulling at the same time, the hole opened only revealing dirt and rocks. It was closed off just before luffy's finger tips, both boys stared in disbelief, you were gone "Y/N" Luffy loudly screamed your name slowly pulling his hand back, he wanted to cry, why couldn't he have grabbed you. Zoro getting out of his state of shock placed a hand on Luffy's shoulder a look of determination on the sword mans face. once Luffy's arm was fully out the hole it slammed closed no trace of it once being there. Anger sparked in Luffy's chest, not only was one of his crew taken but it was you, One of the only two people he loved most in this world. "Lets get them back" Zoro states taking his hand off Luffy's shoulder, standing up and pulling his swords out of the ground. Luffy stood fixing his hat and nodding. The captain and his swords man were about to cause hell until they got you back.
#zoro x reader#polly relationship#one piece#imagine#one piece imagine#roronoa zoro#zoro x luffy x reader#luffy x reader#zoro x luffy#monkey d. luffy
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Bad Bet
William beats you in a poker tournament, but you just can’t accept defeat, not yet…
Themes: DEAD DOVE - DNE f!reader, Dark!William, stealing, kidnapping, bit of violence (reader knocked unconscious, a headbutt), bondage, teasing/degradation, a spank, use of honorifics (good girl, attagirl), heavy eye contact, choking, nipple play, non-con, pinv, ruined orgasm
Wordcount: 2.6K
A.N: Huge thanks to @lunar-ghoulie @lunar-ghoulie4art ! I loved working together with the artwork and the fic! The Circle of Smut continues 😘
No, no this couldn’t be happening. How were you losing! You’d studied every player, every little tick and tell, and now you were losing to this guy?
You glared ahead at the man taking your money hand over fist. His slicked back salt and pepper hair shone like silver in the dim lighting of the casino. Piles of poker chips sat in-front of him and mocked you with every card dealt. Those had been yours… That was you’re fucking money stacked in-front of him…
All that money you’d so confidently walked into the casino with, all those chips - were gone. That son-of-a-bitch had taken of it… You stood slowly as you glared across the table, and this motherfucker had the nerve to give you a flat smile and a dismissive nod.
That was it, the final thing to snap your resolve. There’s no way he was keeping your money… You stalked to the edges of the tournament and watched it finish out from the shadows. This guy didn’t even win the damn tournament. He’d stopped during a hot streak and bowed out. You heard his name through quiet whispers of on-lookers next to you, William Tell.
You continued to lurk just out of sight as he sat at the bar. Adjusted from machine to machine to keep line of sight without drawing attention. He sipped on his whiskey like he was purposefully trying to waste the night away. Finally after what felt like an eternity he cashed out. The cashier piled stacks and stacks of your money onto the counter. He stuffed it unceremoniously into his jacket, flicked his sunglasses on and strolled out into the frigid air.
You followed several lengths behind and squinted in the abnormally bright winter sun as you stepped outside. After a few moments blinking away the sudden adjustment your heart nearly stopped as William passed you in his silver sedan. Quickly you found your own car and trailed behind him, keeping a few lengths back until he pulled into a shitty motel. Bingo… The wheels in your head churned as you passed by and found a decent spot to U-turn. Not only were you gonna get your money back, you were gonna take a little extra for your bruised ego.
~~~~~~~
Hours passed slowly as you sat at the far end of the parking lot, watching his shadow move back and forth across the drawn curtains of his room. Finally, a crack of light crept across the lot as he came out into the bitter night. Your leg bounced in anticipation as he got in his car and drove off. You had to be smart about this, wait a few minutes to ensure he wouldn’t double back in case he forgot something, then get in.
A couple minutes felt like a lifetime and you just couldn’t wait any longer. Streaking across the lot like a shadow you jimmied the already busted looking lock on the door and made your way inside. What you saw froze you in your tracks.
All of the furniture in the room, including the bedside lamp, has been meticulously wrapped in white sheets and tied with twine. “Fucking psycho.” You muttered under your breath as you made your way inside. Your eyes flickered to the movie playing on a beaten down dresser. Some old western with a few too many gunslingers, the noise louder than you’d like for your already fried nerves. You looked around for bags, a suitcase, something - but the room appeared to be bare. Then your eyes connected with the closet, there had to be a safe…
Unease made your movements uncoordinated as you peered inside, unsure of what exactly you’d find. A soft sigh left your lips as your eyes lowered and settled on a small dingy hotel safe. “Jackpot.” You muttered with a smirk. Gunfire went off in the background and jolted you forward into the small closet. You shook off your nerves and settled back into your assessment of the safe.
It was a tiny black thing that looked like it’d been beaten within an inch of destruction. However, while the outside was dented the lock itself held steady against your prying fingers. You shook it out of sheer frustration and realized it wasn’t actually secured to anything. “Fuck it.” You muttered as you lifted the small safe up out of the closet and set it onto the bedside table. If you couldn’t crack it here, better to take it home.
The tension in your chest settled now that you had your prize. With no movement outside you grew bolder and decided to snoop. You found his suitcase and duffle bag tucked behind the sheet covered armchair in the corner. The suitcase was light when you pulled it out and set it atop the chair, the only things left inside was another white sheet and a spool of twine.
The dufflebag however, was much heavier. You lifted the brown leather bag with a huff as you set it beside the suitcase and opened it. Confusion knitted your brow at what you initially saw: pliers, a hammer, medical shears, gloves, and a black sack. Your heart thundered in your chest at the uses you imagined for all this. Then, be it bravery or stupidity, you dug around past the layer of torture tools till you hit something different, cash. Stacks and stacks tucked neatly underneath the grizzly tools.
You rummaged around to see just how many layers there were when another round of gunshots rang out from the tv. Unbeknownst to you they covered the sound of the door as it swung open. It was too late when you heard the rustle of clothing behind you a second before blinding pain exploded in the back of your skull and sent your world into darkness.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The first moments of regained consciousness were hazy. Sensations came first, pain pounded in the back of your head, a soft fabric loosely around your head, rope bit into your ankles. You went to sit up until the similar bite of rope around your wrists stopped you.
“Don’t bother.” An apathetic voice muttered behind you.
You twisted slowly, the pang in your head sent your vision blurring despite the only thing you could see was darkness. A vague shadow passed infront of you. “Will-iam?” You groaned.
“Who else, you did break into my room.” His footsteps drew nearer and your heart nearly lept from your chest. “It was cute you know, watching you as you lost all that money.” You watched the shadow on the other side of the fabric. “I thought I would enjoy just watching you. Enjoy watching your nose wrinkle and that little snarl on your lips. That look when you left the table.”
One rough tug and the bag was pulled from your head. William slowly came into focus as he leaned forward, his dark eyes peered into your own. You held his gaze as you tested your bonds behind your back. “What wasn’t as cute, but far more interesting, was catching you following me here. I thought you’d just tail me for a bit then peel off, but you didn’t -”
You took the moment of him monologuing and lurched forward. Your forehead connected with the bridge of his nose. He stumbled backward and caught himself, holding his face as he stood. Tension drew his shoulders up as he turned his back to you and walked over to the dresser. The sound of metal on wood felt like it scraped across your nerves.
He turned on his heels, a slow red trail flowed down over his lip. A tight grin revealed the tint of red spread across his teeth. You shivered at the sight of him as he adjusted those blue gloves over his fingers and squinted for a moment. He assessed you, curled and tied on the bed, seemingly made some decision and turned to grab the medical shears off the dresser.
As he dragged his gloved fingers across his lips it left a crimson streak across them. William strode over slowly, grabbed hold of your ankles and twisted till you laid on your back. Your bound hands dug uncomfortably into your spine. You went to kick but the combination of his eyes boring into yours, his grip tightening, and the snarl on his lips made you still.
“Hours later, after you should’ve lost your nerve and left, there you were in your car, waiting.” He slotted the shears at the cuff of your pants and cut slowly. “You’re not nearly as inconspicuous as you think you are gorgeous.” His breath left him in a slow sigh as your bare leg came into view. His tongue dragged across his upper lip to clean the scarlet stain.
“So I gave you a hand. Busted the lock on the door just in case your burglary skills matched your ability to blend in.” His cuts were steady till they hit the band of your underwear. His smirk shifted to another quick snarl as he pressed the scissors against your skin, caught the edge of your panties and in one swift motion your right leg was free from ankle to hip.
“When I pulled in and saw your shadow across the blinds I thought I was imagining it. You really had the guts to try to steal from me.” Panic set in as he moved the shears to your left pant leg and began to cut. You wiggled despite the vice-grip he had on your ankles, which earned you a low growl. His hand shifted to a bruising grip on your hip to steady you. With another firm cut your left leg was freed and a wicked grin spread across his face.
In one swift motion he yanked your tattered pants, the chill from the stale hotel AC ghosted across your exposed pussy. “You sick son of a bitch!” You spat.
His grin twisted your belly as he gripped your bound ankles and lifted them straight up. “I like guts. In fact, that’s how I know you’ll be perfect for what I have in mind if you can manage to behave.”
“Let me go!” You arched and twisted till a harsh slap cracked across your ass.
“Enough!” He pressed forward till your knees touched your chest. Your breathing came in short gasps as he continued. “I need you to do as your told. I promise you, you don’t wanna know what’ll happen if you don’t.” Your gaze flickered to the brown leather bag sitting open on the armchair. The image of what it contained stilled your movements. “Ahh good girl, you remember what you saw in there?”
Your eyes grow wide as you nodded. You looked back as him leaned over your legs, his groin pressed against your bare core. “You’re mine now. Understood?” You nodded again.
“Attagirl, I like a quick learner.” His voice was low as he quickly undid his belt and zipper. His length came free and pressed against your soft folds. “Been needing someone to bury my cock in.” He rolled his hips slowly, gathered slickness along his girth before the fat tip pressed into you.
The stretch of him stole the last bit of air you had. He smirked at your shallow breathes but relented, leaned back a bit and kept your ankles on his shoulder. You filled your lungs greedily before a snap of his hips punched the air from you. “I’m taking you on the road with me. If you’re good, I’ll even teach you how to play poker.”
“Fuck yo-uuu.” He sunk further twisting your curse into a groan.
“Gladly.” He leaned back, grabbing the shears and raised a brow. “Behave.” In a quick cut your legs fell to either side of his hips.
A thought flickered in your mind, if you could just wrap your legs around him and squeeze as hard as you could you might be able to -
William leaned forward and wrapped his hand around your throat. “I see those wheels turning. Whatever it is your thinking, don’t.” His hips snapped forward again and set a steady pace as you grew lightheaded. You were so preoccupied with the buzzing in your head that you hadn’t noticed his other hand. Dexterous latex covered fingers met your clit and rubbed firm circles over it.
The pressure, the angle, the stretch of him. It was too much. You felt your eyes nearly cross as you looked up at him. Mouth agape in a silent plea as he shoved you closer and closer to climax with every buck. “See? See what happens when you behave?” He breathed between thrusts.
Fuck him for doing this to you, fuck him for making you feel so damn good. Fuck him for - With a final press he sent you over the edge, your head thrown back and a choked groan escaped your throat as he let it go. “Good girl,” He cooed. “Give in.”
Your muscles melted as you came down from your high, only vaguely aware of him shifting positions. He lifted your legs over his shoulders and leaned in. “Look at me baby, eyes on me.” His gravely tone brought you back to the moment. You looked up at him. His silver hair fell forward and a tinge of red remained on his upper lip. You groaned as he lean further still, deliciously deep in your channel. “That’s right, look at me as you take it. Take all of it.” He buried himself as deep as he could. The stretch almost too much as you quivered around him.
“F-fuck.” You whimpered as he began a slow, deep rhythm. The part of you that wanted to protest became a soft, distant whisper somewhere in the back of your mind. His hands snaked up to your collar and ripped the fabric till your breasts fell free.
“Perfect.” He whispered as his gloved fingers gripped your breasts. You arched into his touch as the latex grazed against your hardened nipples. Eyes squeezed shut as you bit your lip. A hard twist made you gasp and jolt forward to give him an angry glare. “Eyes. on. me.” He growled as his thrusts grew harsher.
Frustration and pleasure roiled inside you as his pace quickened. You held his gaze with as hard of an expression as you could muster until his touch suddenly grew gentle on your sensitive peaks. Your brows tilted up as you bit your lip to stop the whimper he tried to draw from you. “Let me hear it.” He growled.
You shook your head as your bite teetered on painful. His cock hit that spot deep within you as he churned, his pelvis grinding against your clit. Your breath quickened despite your attempt to fight off the pleasure he brought. “Last chance, let me hear you.”
A metallic tang spread across your tongue as you bit down harder and shook your head. “Fine.” His pace quickened, sent you right to the edge before pulling completely out. Your heels hit the bed as you whimpered and groaned. Channel clenched around nothing, orgasm completely ruined. Tears stung your eyes as you glared at him.
“Should’ve listened.” He smirked as his cock twitched, covered in slickness. Your gaze remained on his length. “You gonna listen this time?” He mocked as he took off his tie. He waited for your response with a confident smirk and slowly took off his dress shirt. Your gaze flickered to his muscular torso as it came into view then back down to erection still hard and throbbing.
You swallowed the metallic taste in your mouth along with your pride, and gave a curt nod. That one minute motion sealed that evening and many more to come. Or in your case, not to cum.
————————
Taglist: @melodygatesauthor @ominoose @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @romana-after-dark
#artists feed writers and writers feed artists 🤝#🎶it’s the circle of smut🎵#william tell fan fiction#william tell#william tell fanfiction#william tell smut#william tell#the card counter fan fiction#the card counter x you#the card counter x reader#the card counter fanfiction#the card counter fic#the card counter#william tell x reader#William tell X you#deaddovedecember2023
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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: Once again, thank y'all so, so, so much for the continued love & support! Just an update for everybody: I'll be going back to school in about 3 weeks so updates might slow down, BUT I will continue to upload when I'm free & have some time. Thank you again! And happy 4/20!! -xoxo, 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.
********
FIVE: NO TELL MOTEL.
“My, your such a good little cocksucker, aren’t you, sugar?”
Gojo’s silky voice forming those dirty, nasty words only makes you suck on his thick, hard, beautiful cock a little more eagerly than before. He kneels in front of you, his hips and toned stomach in your face, letting you freely drag your hands over his six pack much to his enjoyment.
He watches you with those alluring blue eyes as you gag all over his shaft and bounce on Geto’s dick at the same time. “And a good little cowgirl too,” the long-haired outlaw chuckles, soft moans and gasps leaving his lips as your warm, soft, velvety walls squeeze around him whenever you slam your pussy and soft, cushiony ass down onto him. “I should’ve known you’d be good at ridin’ dick too, little lady.”
SMACK!
His hand comes down to slap your ass, emitting a muffled moan from around Gojo’s cock. The white-haired outlaw groans, gripping the back of your hair and pushing himself deeper into your mouth. “Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ sexy,” he moans. “You seem to be missin’ somethin’ though…I’ve got it!”
He takes off his cowboy hat and puts it on your head, making Geto laugh as he begins to pump his hips up into you from below, fucking you back. “She looks so adorable,” he groans. “Just seein’ her like this makes me wanna cum.”
Gojo hums in agreement, thrusting into your mouth in time with his partner’s dick pumping in and out, in and out, of your pussy, sinking you deeper and deeper into immense pleasure. “Me too,” he says and lifts your chin up to look at him and the way the moonlight illuminates his hair, turning it silver. “And you’ll cum with us, won’t you, cutie?”
“Be as loud as you want, darlin,’” Geto moans, gripping your hips for dear life. “There ain’t nobody to hear you for miles. Just us and the stars.”
Hearing that and knowing the fact that it’s just you three alone among the moon, the stars, and the quiet forest makes me you want to cum. You can feel your orgasm quickly approaching the louder Geto and Gojo’s moans become and the more Geto’s dick glides against your G-spot.
“Fuck!” Geto gasps. “I think our little cowgirl is close, Satoru. That sweet little pussy is squeezin’ around me so tight!”
Gojo stares down at you adoringly and hungrily, slamming his hips into your mouth. “Cum with us, darlin,” he demands. “Don’t let us do it alone. Give us what we want like a good little slut, hm?”
Suddenly, the two begin to moan louder and warn you that they’re about to cum, using your holes to chase their highs. You can feel yourself being pushed closer, closer to the edge of bliss, about to fall off with them–
With a gasp, you sit up in your bed adjacent to Shoko who has her back to you and is snoring so loud that it overshadows the buzzing of cicadas outside your window. You are coated in sweat, a normal occurrence for summers in the West, but you know that it has everything you do with your dream.
“What the fuck?” you think, confused and flushed…and extremely bothered. Your pussy throbs annoyingly beneath your silk nightgown, even more so without your panties. It’s too hot for undies.
You’ve never had a dream like that before about anyone, especially two outlaws that you were supposed to merk earlier!
The only dreams you have are about your childhood, your mother, and the night both were taken from you. They don’t happen every night, but they are the only dreams you have. You don’t have happy dreams and can barely have a good night’s sleep without your mind going a hundred miles an hour.
But something about this dream, something about this duo, brings something out of you. A need to throw all caution to the wind. You don’t want to think that it’s because of your attraction to them. You tell yourself that it’s nothing; just a biological need as humans have. The dream meant nothing but to show you what you could be missing…right?
You look at Shoko, thinking about her words of wisdom to you earlier. Could she be right? Could these men be the ones to help you reach that happy ending? ‘Only one way to find out,’ you think.
You roll out of bed and, keeping your footfalls quiet, you begin to pack up. You pack some dried snacks, a canteen of water, and a clean pair of clothes in your bag before changing out of your sweat-soaked nightgown and into some clean, black riding gear. You then bend down in your closet to retrieve a dusty box hidden behind Shoko’s shoes and a key hidden beneath them.
You unlock the box and smile at the contents inside of it: a silky, pink bandana and a black cowgirl hat. You take out each and put them on, already feeling more like yourself. Like the Fatale Femme. After you finally finish, you take a piece of paper with an ink pen and quickly scrawl out a note to a sleeping Shoko before leaving:
Dear, Shoko,
I’m so sorry I’m leaving you like this and that it took this happening to tell you the truth. I’ve been wandering the wild West for years, hunting down outlaws and running from the law as a living.
I came to Blackwater to not only kill Valentine but to find Gojo & Geto the Gunslingers and get some answers for my plan to kill Benji the Bandi. I have been hiding my true identity from you in fear of bringing trouble to your door.
I care for you and those at the Blackwater saloon so much which is why I must leave. Please don’t try to look for me. If I’m alive, I will write and even visit (eventually).
Thank you for the friendship you’ve given me. Take care of yourself and don’t stay in Blackwater forever. The ain’t nothing here for you either.
Sincerely, Y/N aka the Fatale Femme.
You leave the note by her beside. Then, in a flash, you take your bag and head out the door. The complex is dark and quiet when you leave, making it easy o slip ou ino he nigh. Behind the complex, tied up to one of the lamp posts, is your precious black horse who has been loyally and patiently waiting here at her post for five months since you came to Blackwater on her back.
You’ve been leaving her here, only releasing her o ake he on lae nigh walks and feeding her apples and oas. Bu now, you’re ready to leave and so is she. Her ears twitch at the sound of you boots thudding in the dit and he tail begins to wag excitedly, knowing it’s you. You press a hand to her side and stroke her soft fur.
“Hey, Reneigh,” you coo to her. “You ready to go, darlin’?” You take her reigns out of your bag and clip them on her before getting her saddle from behind a tree. As you place it on her back, she huffs, steam coming out of her nostrils. “You’re right,” you giggle. “I should’ve left this dumbass town a long time ago.”
You kiss her snout, thanking her for waiting, before hopping ono her back after lacing one leg over her side. Once you’re on, you cluck your tongue against the roof of your mouh and snap the reigns once. Reneigh understands immediately and takes off down the road, he hooves clicking against the road. You guide her in the direction of the Maplewood Motel, knowing where it is due to the brothel you used to occupy at being two blocks up from it.
‘1211 at the Corner of Maplewood, Rm 201,’ you think, keeping the numbers in you head even when you finally make it to the small, quiet motel. Not a peson no animal stis when you leave Reneigh outside in an empty cubby where other horses have their own. “I’ll be back,” you tell her, earning a headbutt from her in response.
“You’d better,” she wordlessly says.
You keep your gun a your hip as you walk ino he moel, past the sleeping desk clerk, and then up the steps to the second floor. You ignore your pounding heart as you walk to room 201 and give three knocks. “Comin’!” a silky voice calls out. Gojo Satoru.
When he opens the door, he is only in his trousers and riding gloves, exposing his toned body and abs to you. That damn dream comes back to haunt you and you attempt give him a poker face despite your mind’s eye being filled with images of his naked body and cock.
You’re so entranced by his body that you almost miss his eyes. You’ve never seen them before since he’s always wearing that blindfold. They are a gorgeous, hypnotizing blue, as blue as the crystal waters in the Bahamian islands. They widen an inch at sigh of you at his door. “Well,” he begins, “this is definitely a pleasant surprise.”
“Who’s at the door, Satoru?” Geto calls from inside, sounding suspicious. He comes to the door too, luckily not shirtless but still looking hot in his cotton shirt and riding gloves, his long hair pulled back into a silky, glossy ponytail. “Oh, hey,” he greets, sounding shocked to see you. “So you kept the note.”
“I did,” you reply rather sharply, you pulse jumping anxiously. “‘Cause I need some answers. Before I agree to this, I’ll need some information first.” The duo looks at each other as if asking one another if they should agree.
“Anybody follow you?” Gojo asks, looking up and down the hallway. You shake you head and he opens the door ajar for you. “Come on in, then.”
You do so, not thanking him, but he doesn’t mind. When the door shuts, you take a look around the motel: it is rather spacious and clean with a small kitchen, a wooden table sitting near the window overlooking the horses outside, brown, shaggy floors, and a big king-sized bed matching the beige walls. The duo has made their home in this room, two backpacks, clean clothes, and shoes lying about the bed and floor.
Gojo follows you into the motel, clapping his hands together once. “First thing’s first: ya want some dinner?”
You blink at him, wondering if he’s serious. Wordlessly, you shake your head and he rolls his eyes at you. “What, you don’t want some good food before you start interrogatin’ us?” he chuckles. “We’ve got somethin’ cookin’ up over here.”
He nods at Geto in the kitchen, cooking something savory-smelling on the small stove. His hulking frame blocks it from view, but it makes your stomach growl. Gojo nods at the wooden table and the chairs there. “Go on, take a seat and get comfy. I’ll take your bag and get you some water.”
He goes to take your bag from you, but you grip it to your chest. “My bag is good here,” you argue. “And I don’t need anything, thanks.” Your stomach exposes you by gurgling loudly, making you flush.
“Uh-uh,” he sniggers before he walks off to get you that water and a plate. The duo leaves you to sit alone to sit as they fix you something to eat and drink, much to your surprise. You didn’t think outlaws could be such gentlemen…unless something’s up.
Minutes later, after listening to Geto hum a tune and Gojo crack jokes while he tosses on a shirt, your dinner is finally presented to you: a plate of Salisbury steak oozing with gravy, roasted potatoes, and green beans. “Here ya are, little miss. Made by yours truly.” Gojo gives a charming smile as he places a glass of water in font of you.
“He’s lying!” Geto calls from the kitchen. Gojo puts a finger to his lips, winking.
You stare suspiciously down at the delicious-smelling food and gingerly take your fork to stab into the smallest tater. Gojo watches you weirdly as you sniff the potato and then place it in your mouth, slowly chewing it. “Had to check if it was poisonous,” you explain with a shrug.
The white-haired outlaw looks hilariously offended by that. “Why would we do somethin’ so fucked?” he scoffs. “Jesus, girl, you are so paranoid!” You glare up at him, swallowing the potato. “With the work I do, you have to be.”
Geto walks over with two more plates and glasses of water, placing them on the table. “I agree, especially in the state this world is in.” He sits down across from you along with Gojo, folding his hands under his chin. “Hope you don’t mind, but I’d like the say grace first.”
Gojo dramatically groans, but bows his head anyway. Geto does the same while you keep your eyes open, watching them. “Dear Lord, thank you for allowing us another day to consume such a delicious meal with good company,” Geto prays. “Please give us more of these fine days with your blessing. Amen.” He lifts his head with a content, satisfied smile. It makes your stomach flip for some odd reason.
“Ugh, finally,” Gojo sighs. “I’m fuckin’ starved!” He goes to finally dig into his food, but then stops and instead raises his glass of water. “Cheers to new friends,” he chirps and then frowns when he sees your face. “Acquaintances then. C’mon, you’ve gotta toast to that one!”
Though you’d rather not, you did agree to be here. So begrudgingly, you raise your glass and so does Geto. “Cheers,” he chuckles and you clink glasses. “Enjoy, little miss.”
And you do though you don't tell him and your poker face is A1. However, the steak is savory and juicy, the potatoes are crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, and the beans are salted to perfection. If Geto wasn’t an outlaw, he’d be a great cook.
Though the food is good, your impatience gets the best of you the longer dinner goes on and you can’t enjoy it without your stomach roiling for answers. “Sooo do y’all wanna start talkin’ or should I?” you ask, rather impatient. The men look up at you, still eating. Insead of looking shocked, they look amused. “Well, if you insist on givin’ us the floor,” Gojo chuckles. “Whatcha wanna know?”
You swallow some wae to give you some courage, wishing it was liquor. “Just out of curiosity, as well-known as y’all are, why’d you decide to work with Benji and Valentine?” you ask, getting straight to the point.
Geto is happy to enlighten you as he sips on his water while Gojo finishes chomping on his steak like a wild pig. “When we met Benji, we were young and dirt poor, robbin’ anybody just to eat. One day, we robbed a banquet of rich folks not knowin’ that they were Benji’s people. He beat us to a pulp and had his crew tie us to railroad racks.”
You nearly choke on your piece of steak. Geto shrugs like it’s nothing. “However, he gave us a proposition: he could either kill us or we work for him and pay off our ‘debt’ to him. As two teens with nothin’ to lose, how could we say no?”
“We worked for him for two years, helpin’ him rob banks, beat people up who owed him money, etc, etc,” Gojo adds, “but we never killed no one. That was somethin’ we fused to do…until we had to.” His ocean-blue eyes look down at his water, fiaxating on it. You have a feeling that this is a hurt piece for them, especially when Geto gets up to clean his and Gojo’s empty plates.
You watch him walk to the kitchen in silence, his big boots thudding across the floor. He turns on the sink and begins to soak the dishes in hot water.
“We were in Bull’s Creek chasin’ down a guy that owed Benji money for savin’ his farm,” he explains as the water runs. “He had moved himself and his family into hidin’, but we found ‘em and dragged them all outside, hogtied…includin’ the kids.”
You bite back a gasp, a vision of your small town popping into your head the night your life changed: burning homes and businesses; kids crying for their parents in the street; families beaten in front of their children; your mother’s arms stretched out to you as her neck bursts with blood.
You swallow hard, not sure if you want him to continue, but you listen anyway. “We thought Benji just wanted the husband, but imagine our shock to find out he wanted everyone,” Geto continues as he scrubs one of the plates with a sponge. “Told Gojo and me to put a bullet in all of ‘em, make sure that thee we no survivors that could place his face. In reality, I think he just wanted to test us.”
“And ‘cause he’s a sick motherfucker that gets off on the death of innocents,” Gojo adds. He sounds nonchalant, but you can tell he’s angered by how hard he grips his glass. “We didn’t do it, so he forced us to watch his minions do it. They left their bodies to bake in the sun, not even givin’ the kids a grave.”
You’re silent, processing the awful yet confusing information. Could they really be different from the outlaws like Benji, Valentine, and the ones that destroyed your home? Could these two really have morals?
Geto finally stops cleaning and comes back over to the table. “After we realized how crazy Benji was, we left and haven’t seen him since,” he explains as he sits. “That’s when we made our business targetin’ the baddies across the West and made a name for ourselves. People started comin’ to us for help.”
That explains why so many corrupt people were showing up in the papers, dead. Maybe…just maybe…they could be different.
“So what about Valentine?” you ask, pushing your plate aside. “How’d you meet him?”
Geto leans back in his chair, crossing his leg over the other. “A year ago, he came to us askin’ us for help to get some trafficked money off of a Cherrywood train that was stolen from his land.”
“Such a big, fat fuckin’ lie,” Gojo sighs disappointedly, shaking his head. “But because we were stupid, we said yeah and he agreed to cut us half of the money if we helped him. We teamed up with his crew with no problem, not realizin’ that we had been set up from the jump.”
He then pulls a cigarette and a matchbox out of his pocket. Before he lights it, his blue eyes tick to yours expectantly. "You don't mind?" he asks and you shake your head, so he strikes a match, lights his cig up, and takes a puff. Geto walks over and Gojo passes him the cigarette which he gladly takes a drag of.
When Geto speaks again, you see the entire scene flash in your head down to the last gruesome detail: “As soon as we got on that train, he took everyone hostage, includin’ the conductor. We tried to stop him, but he and his guys massacred every person on that train and then escaped before the train went off the rails. It crashed, but we survived and woke up in a cell.”
He pauses, taking a sip of his water. With Valentine MIA, we were forced to do some time before the sheriff cut us a deal: if we help bag Valentine and keep up good behavior aka no killing, we stay out of prison.”
He shrugs passively. “Seemed easy enough, so we took it and now, here we are with you.” He gives you a smile as does Gojo, warm and friendly despite the horrible, complicated story they told you about Benji’s sadistic ways and being framed by Valentine.
You look between the two of them, even more confused than before. Their smiles fade as they read your expression, probably thinking the worst. You put your hands on the table and interlace them as you lean in toward them. “You barely know me and you’re tellin’ me this,” you point out. “Why?”
The two share a glance, probably not expecting this question. But Geto answers you regardless: “Because we want you to make this decision. We want your help, Y/N, but we won’t force you. If you want to walk out that door, you can.” He juts his chin at the motel door, your exit from this conversation AND possible agreement.
But something, whether it be their honesty or the way they look at you with such genuine warmth, keeps you there. You look down at your hands. They are shaking.
“You wanna know why I want Benji?” you ask, not waiting for a yes. “While it may be a stretch, I believe takin’ him out would let every other fucker on this God-forsaken planet know that their sins and crimes will not go unpunished. It would scare them to know that such a powerful man like Benji the Bandit was taken out by someone, let alone a woman.”
You raise your head to look at Geto and Gojo again, still seeing those genuine, soft gazes.
“I’ll help y’all,” you firmly say, “but on one condition: y’all help me get out of the county and to Willow Springs.”
Gojo raises an eyebrow, confused and curious. “What’s in Willow Springs exactly?” he asks.
You nearly smile at his question, picturing the beautiful town located in the North already. “Freedom,” you answer. “A life without constant runnin’ and dodgin’ the law. A quiet life out of the West…but the only way there is through the Devil’s Trail.”
Aka the hardest, roughest trail in the West. It is known for its treacherous heat, barren, dry lands, and predators lurking around every rock and cactus. There is no way you could ever survive on your own.
You look at Geto, crossing your arms over your bosom. “I thought about what you said: if Valentine does talk, I’ll need the protection, especially on Devil’s Trail. When we catch Benji, you’ll take me to Willow Springs. Then we’ll part ways, forget this ever happened, and live happily ever after.”
You stick your hand out to them, wordlessly asking for a deal. The two share a glance before they each smile. “You’ve got a deal then, little lady,” Geto says before he shakes your hand.
Gojo does the same and you ignore the tiny spark of electricity you feel zip up your arm when you hold each of their leather-covered palms.
“Now let’s get some sleep,” Gojo announces, looking pleased. We’ll need all the rest we can get ‘cause tomorrow will be a long day.” He nods at you, smiling. “But first, you need a room.”
#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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speaking of lab babies I've been thinking about engie and medic making their own lab baby.. realistically i dont think theyd want kids but whatever why not
I think realistically they wouldn't too, especially Medic.
But
Like hell
It ain't stoping me and @0straycat0 from brainstorming about it
I even have a sims 3 world with them and recently they got a kid 😩
I think they'll be adorable crazy parents. Since their kid would inherent their crazy-
I imagine that slasher movies would be like fricking night time cartoons for her- and they have to shoo her back to bed.
Blood and things other babies would scream like crazy ain't scary to her. Shes curious if anything.
She loved Engis gunslinger a lot, I even imagined with Cat her teething on it-
Dell loved her on the spot, meanwhile Medic needed more time to agree on having kids.
We imagined that she grew idfk in a tube or something???? It sounds weirder than it is-. And he was calling her their ' beautiful creation' , instead of their kid.
But thanks to Engies help and him getting to hold her he became more soft and now wont stop talking peoples hear off about how amazing she is-
They spoil her but not to the point shes 'that' kid.
So shes a cute baby with attitude that for hell wouldn't find something like a chainsaw roaring or bloody screams scary-
#im sorry im insane-#I'm a sucker for domestic scenarios#even if they're not possible in cannon#fuck it we ball domestic aus
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High Noon, All In
Valentín Ruiz leaned against the kitchen counter. He slipped his leather jacket open, exposing the holstered gun on his belt, like a gunslinger in a Western movie showing his opponent he was armed and a force to be reckoned with. His gaze swept over Chloe Grant’s belongings, stopping on another cardboard box in the corner, and locking onto the contents he could spot in its open topside.
She had still been unpacking. Still moving into this new home. The knife block sat at the top inside that box, still wrapped in newspapers. Both of them could see hints of knife handles through the crumpled paper.
He peeled his sight away from the open box, and their gazes met. He scratched the stubble on his chin, then sighed. A long, weary sigh.
Though she remained speechless, Grant’s most prominent thought echoed like a scream inside her mind.
Her gun was upstairs. His was right at his hip.
It wouldn’t have looked good for him if he were to shoot her in her own kitchen, but they both had sophisticated military backgrounds, and both had been working in private sectors, shrouded in secrecy. To some extent, they both had the skills and knowhow of spies, and could make each other vanish from the Earth without a trace if they just tried hard enough.
Grant considered herself a good judge of character. But in a situation like this, all bets were off.
Their previous banter, paired with the flirtatious glint in his eyes, could have meant anything. Maybe he was always just like that, using it to disarm situations and make friendly. Or maybe he was a good actor, using it all to conceal more nefarious intentions, allowing the wolf to creep closer before it pounced. Or maybe it was entirely genuine.
She found Ruiz hard to read now. His poker face gelled well with his model’s face.
Eyes still locked onto her, he finally broke the awkward silence by saying, “I never asked, did I? You aren’t from around Texas.”
“Nope,” she said, popping the single syllable like a balloon. “You never asked indeed.”
He emitted something that died halfway between scoffing and a chortle. He chased that with a wam smile.
“Okay, well, are you from Texas? Or not?”
Grant’s phone buzzed. A short message. She hesitated to check.
Instead, she countered his question. “You said the job and HQ can wait, you needed to talk. Almost had me convinced it was something serious, but now we’re small-talking in my sorry excuse of a kitchen?”
She leaned against the other counter, opposite Ruiz, and crossed her arms. She sold her words with a crooked smirk.
He bought it.
“I’m from Cali,” he said, “and figured you were too, based on how you talk. Or maybe it’s Nevada?”
Her smirk transformed into a genuine smile.
A good guess.
He was good, after all.
“Yeah. L.A. You?”
Another half-chortle, half-scoff.
“Same. People say it’s a small world, but a city like that’s big enough for us to never meet before this job a couple o’ states over. How about that, huh?”
The phone buzzed again.
“Maybe we just got around a lot,” she said, her smile fading. “Is this… going anywhere?”
His sunny demeanor also faded. With a thumb hooked into his leather pants’ pocket, his right hand hovered dangerously close to his pistol all the while.
“What? I thought you wanted me to ask you out for drinks, off the job, sometime. Wasn’t that what you implied at Carrington’s?”
“I didn’t imply anything, I flat-out said it. But tell me something, now. You go to a lady’s home first to ask her out for drinks? Is that how you roll, cowboy?” Her lips twitched until they formed another crooked smile—keeping her cool, trying to lure his motives out into the open. “How’d you find this place anyway? You following me around now? Are you stalking me?”
He tilted his head, then shook it, averting his eyes. Like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he played it off with natural charm. A wide smile revealed a perfect set of teeth, just adding to the pleasant image. And he employed a soft, smoky chuckle to punctuate it all, to downplay everything.
Her phone buzzed again.
“Yeah, okay, I admit, I followed you here from Carrington, figured I wanted to ask in private,” he said. He was good. She had not seen his motorcycle on her tail for the entire ride. Offering Grant a sliver of relief, he unhooked his thumb, removing his hand from the vicinity of his gun, to wag a finger at her—to point at the phone in her jacket, specifically, just as it buzzed yet again. “You gonna get that?”
She grinned and grimaced both.
“You know, it’s work. Our work. I’m surprised your phone isn’t blowing up right now, too.”
He shook his head, still wielding that charming smile. “I prefer to keep it off when I have more important people to see.”
Oh, he was good. If he suspected that she knew anything about his espionage at Future Proof for Corsino, he was burying it under mountains of flirting.
Under other circumstances, it might have worked.
She slowly fished the phone out of her pocket, and it buzzed for the umpteenth time, now in her hand.
New messages flashed on-screen.
“We should be getting to HQ, saddling up already. And if you’d been paying attention to our employer, you’d know. We’re headed to the Appalachian mountains? Gonna be a long ride. So, I’m flattered you rate this…” she paused, using a gesture to bounce between the two of them, “as more pressing than your seriously lucrative job, but… I, for my part, would like to see those fat paychecks keep rollin’ in.”
He raised his hands like she had him in a stickup, palms facing her in surrender. With a nod of his head, he encouraged her to check her phone.
11:59, said the display.
High noon.
She fought the urge of looking up, to keep an eye on his right hand and the holstered gun.
As expected, messages from HQ were flooding her lock screen. Two of them in between had come from Danielle Bennett—from her own private number, not work.
Where ARE you? —Dan, 11:57
Grant held up a hand before Ruiz could say anything else. He shrugged in response. She took a moment to reply to Dan’s message.
Her heart was racing, but not because Ruiz was such a heartthrob. The silvery iron on his hip still kept her nervous enough, the subterfuge put all his flirting into question, and she still considered finding a way to elegantly excuse herself, to retrieve her own piece from upstairs.
For all she knew, she was about to take a bullet. Or ten.
Grant permitted none of this to surface in any shape or form. She bit her lip and answered Danielle, not HQ.
Had to make it snappy. Had to word it just right.
Her thumbs raced at a pace to match her heartbeat, tapping out a swift reply.
If anything happens to me, he’s at my place right now, and he’s got a private semi-auto 45 ACP, not issued by FP.
Message sent.
Grant quickly stuffed the phone back into her pocket. It soon buzzed more with a flurry of incoming messages. She knew they were all sent by Dan.
Without commenting on the flood of texts that kept her phone abuzz, Ruiz only arched a brow.
He stared into her eyes.
“Listen,” he said. A deep, shuddering sigh escaped him. The sheer power of it stunned her, and made her racing heart skip a beat.
He pulled off his beanie cap and ran a hand through dark hair, ruffling it as he visibly struggled to find the right words.
That sigh had blown away all flirtatious air about him. He shifted uncomfortably where he stood, still leaning against the counter. The hand so dangerously close to his pistol, it joined the other, folding in front of him and guiding his sight to the checkered floor between them.
“I am a spy,” he said. Each soft word landed like thunderclaps. “I work for an industry rival of FP’s.”
Her stomach knotted. The pause he allowed to follow only fueled her paranoia.
Was this another play?
Was he fishing for something else? Was he onto her, trying to find out who knew that she knew, to find whom she answered to?
Her mind flashed to Danielle Bennett, an innocent face on the surface of a sea of secrets.
Emotions started bubbling up from the depths.
Social engineering and confidence plays were tricky business, and whether this was a play of his or not, it had worked wonders in robbing Grant of her cool. She couldn’t think of any cards to play, and the sheer possibility of him being this stupid made her angry. It also somehow made her angry that his flirting might have all been hot air all along.
“What the hell?” she blurted out. “Why would you tell me that? Why me? Are you stupid?”
Another sigh escaped him.
He avoided eye contact.
Between her simmering sources of anger, and the very surprise of it all, she struggled to sense any deception. It was either a very good, aggressive bluff on his behalf, or her instincts were right, and he was coming clean to her in earnest.
Still, the question lingered. It compelled her to repeat it.
“Why? Why me?”
Another sigh from Ruiz now shuddered with gravity. He finally met her gaze again. The wet glitter of sorrow in his eyes hinted at a deep ocean of its own, an untapped well of tears, and a conflicted man hidden behind it all.
Everything he’d say would feel so very, deeply honest.
“When Spencer hired you, I… convinced Singh to let me get my eyes on your file. And when I saw that, I figured you were hired to ferret out any potential leaks or whistleblowers or spies in the organization. That’s kind of your specialty, isn’t it?”
Grant clenched her jaw so hard that her teeth almost started hurting from the pressure.
The look in his eyes reminded her of a puppy dog.
This, she hated. She really didn’t like dogs, not even in such an abstract sense.
“Well, I didn’t really sign up for that,” she snapped, “but I can see why you’d arrive at that misconception.”
Averting his gaze again, he shook his head.
“You know, I used to think it was the right thing to do. Everything about our company is shady. It’s shady as all hell,” he said. The words he used somehow dulled the edge. Maybe it was the softness in it, the sense of vulnerability he projected. His gravelly voice cracked, if ever so briefly. “Who’s the good guys, really? Who’s the bad guys? Sure, the extra pay didn’t hurt. It didn’t hurt one bit. But I was convinced it was better for this to be out in the open somehow, that it might be dangerous if Spencer held all this power in his hands, all this knowledge. Y’know?”
It was a lot to process. If this was a play, then he had gone all-in, put all his chips on the table, and asked to see Grant’s hand.
She had nothing. Nothing to match it.
It didn’t even feel like a play. It was probably more apt to understand it as someone who was quitting the game altogether.
Where she failed to reply, he continued speaking.
“Now? Carter was shot. Dead. We buried him after some gung-ho military asshole shot him, and I think it’s my fault—no—I know it’s my fault. And Singh’s behind bars, and this fucking shake—”
He raised his hand. His left hand—the one she had not been watching as closely, as it had been farther away from the holstered gun on his hip—now that she focused on it, she could see that it shook.
Tremors shook it.
Ruiz balled his hand into a fist but the tremors remained. His eyes sparkled brighter.
“This fuckin’ shake doesn’t go away anymore. I fucked up, Grant. I want you to turn me in or whatever, or just hear me out. Fuck. I don’t even really know you. I’m sorry I’m dumping all this horseshit on your lap. I just… I need someone to talk, I guess.”
His words fell the softest he had ever uttered. He rubbed his forehead, hiding his eyes behind his hand.
It was the least rehearsed thing she had ever felt coming from him.
This player had quit the game. He was on the verge of breaking down in her half-furnished house, in her sorry excuse of a kitchen.
She bit her lip. The ball of anger dissipated into a much milder frustration, a tinier pit, churning in her stomach.
In that moment, she decided to take him at face value. She could have gone on and continued questioning his motives and his every action, but the puzzle pieces fit into their rightful places.
Grant didn’t really know him either, but… this…
This felt honest.
“Shit, man,” she muttered, stirring as she broke free from her quiet shock, “this is so, so much to take in right now. You have no idea.”
It was her turn to release a deep sigh. Part of it was relief. She didn’t want to be cynical.
“Can I—do you mind if I smoke in here?” he asked. He blinked many times, blinking away the glitter in his eyes before he’d dare show any tears.
“Yeah, I mind. There’s no smoking in my house,” she answered with firmness.
He wiped his lips with those trembling fingers.
The gun at his hip no longer exuded a tangible threat. It just rested there. Just like the gun upstairs, in her bedroom. She would fetch it later, after he left.
“Shit, man, we got a lot o’ shit on our plate as it is. Now you come to me with… this? Like I said, it’s gonna be a long ride to the Appalachian, we need to get to HQ, and I need to think about what you said. I’ll tell you this, though, I wasn’t hired for counterintelligence,” she said, omitting the part of her having been doing that without being asked to. And as much as she disliked dogs, the look he then cast her way made her think of a kicked puppy. She swept her hair back, suppressed a groan of frustration, and the harsh tone faded from her voice altogether. Everything softened. “We’ll talk about it more, okay? But we also need to do our job—the Anomalies, the specimens and incursions—people’s lives are on the line, and we gotta hustle. See you at HQ, okay? Let’s talk shop after we get back from the field. Okay?”
Instead of tears, he broke out into another hybrid between scoffing and a chuckle. There wasn’t anything flirtatious or playful about it, instead having turned into something resembling relief.
He’d soon leave. She’d soon have packed and left as well, heading downtown to Future Proof’s towering skyscraper. And soon after that, they’d be en route to Kentucky.
They exchanged furtive, secretive glances during briefings in the boardroom and briefings in R&D, and between every step of travel where they looked each other’s way.
Grant now shared the burden of his secret. They did not speak about it at all. She felt watched all day, all night, all flight.
The tremor in his right hand remained, visible to her despite all attempts at hiding it. On the final stretch of flight into the Appalachian mountains, only Grant saw it.
Mischchenko chewed over their field operation orders from Spencer while they performed a final check on their EMD rifles. Pruitt was busy piloting the airlift chopper.
Max Carter was conspicuously absent. It felt like he should have been there. Instead, there was just an empty spot on the bench next to Ruiz.
That conversation in the kitchen had been haunting Grant all the while, all journey long. Everything else since had flowed past her in a blur. The most she remembered was trying to calm Danielle down, saying they’d sort things out soon enough.
She went through all the necessary motions. Kept to herself otherwise.
Grant kept her masked, helmeted head down, and followed Mischchenko’s instructions. Checked and re-checked her EMD rifle. Their battery packs whined as they powered their weapons up.
By the time the black, unmarked chopper swooped down over foggy Kentucky woods in the middle of nowhere, it was noon again.
The Anomaly glittered below.
That terrible, beautiful globe of splintered, slowly spinning lights, like glass shards shining with brilliant reflections of the sun…
Reports indicated pterodactyls in the area as a primary threat in the incursion. Burch confirmed the veracity of the images, and Stantz was busy having Bennett and their other minions scrubbing all video and image footage from the ‘net.
For the operators on site, the helmet visors concealed their faces. This kept the warmth inside their body armor, and it also hid all their facial expressions.
Even so, Ruiz’s stare lingered on Grant every now and then.
And she thought back to the kitchen, and how he had played his final hand, laying all cards out on the figurative table between them. It made her think of the blue-white checkered floor.
Would she tell Spencer? They needed to make a decision. A very cautious decision.
Some part of her related deeply to Ruiz. In all honesty, she didn’t trust Spencer herself. The power of these Anomalies, the power to affect time itself…
On the ground, she looked up at the Kentucky Anomaly in awe. It shimmered where it revolved mid-air, hovering inches above the frosted forest floor. This scintillating sphere was big enough to let another T-Rex escape from the past into their present.
Mischchenko was busy handling Doctor Solomon’s new variant of the ALM—what he had been so excited to share with the class. His new “innovation”.
This new variant could not only lock the Anomaly to prevent things from passing through the breaches in time—it could alternatively enforce stability. They could effectively stabilize a Flicker, what the R&D team had labeled an unstable Anomaly, which would work wonders if they ever needed to herd dinosaurs back through a Flicker again.
Ruiz returned from a sweep of the perimeter.
“No eyes on our big birds,” he reported. “But you’d think we’d hear ‘em make big shrieks to match.”
The ALM refused to lock the Anomaly. Mischchenko jiggled a cable. Slapped the side of the futuristic device.
She answered with frustration ringing in her voice—not over Ruiz’s report—but the ALM’s refusal to obey. “Burch said they’d be more silent hunters. Might not hear big wings until it’s too late.”
“These woods are pretty quiet today,” Grant remarked.
And with that, Mischchenko froze. The helmet kept her face as unreadable as everybody else’s, but Grant sensed the sudden shift in her superior’s air.
“You’re right,” Mischchenko said. “And now that you mention it, it’s too damn quiet. Keep your eyes peeled.”
Her movements turned hasty. She slapped the ALM’s metal case again, this time prompting lights to flare up on its top. The spiky sphere at its front starting spinning, and the Anomaly reacted—
The mighty, scintillating ball of light collapsed, compacting, shrinking from a huge, spinning sphere into a suitcase-sized orb, frozen and immobile mid-air.
The ALM hummed in chorus with the chugging generator wired up to it.
“Shit,” Ruiz muttered, so quiet that Grant only heard it over the radio bud in her ear. “I only now got what you mean, Mischchenko. Something’s wrong. We should be hearing… I don’t know what. It’s too damn quiet out here. I don’t hear Jack or shit.”
Mere seconds later, the chirping started. Chittering and scuttling sounds, drawing closer, ever closer. Shuffling, squeaking, and above all, chirping.
Not the chirping of birds.
Chirping of things on the ground. Buzzing.
Wings, far tinier than those of pterodactyls.
The mist around the Anomaly’s site roiled. Things emerged from it. Many, many things. Things that caused that symphony of buzzing and scuttling and chirping.
A living flood neared from every direction around them. The forest grounds teemed with life. Insects, the size of dogs, swarmed those frozen grounds.
Their three-person team was surrounded.
Ruiz shot first. Then the two women followed suit. Their EMDs flared up, discharging bright bolts of energy into the crawling swarm of weird locusts. The earth crackled with electricity, and those bugs were slowed, sometimes stunned… but the rest of the living tide swarmed every closer.
And quickly.
“Open the Anomaly back up,” Grant shouted between shots into the swarm. Then, as Mischchenko failed to comply, she repeated herself. “Open the damn’ Anomaly!”
Mischchenko stopped shooting and swiveled. She backed up, then hammered the device, shutting down the ALM.
The locked orb of the Anomaly exploded, expanding back into the brilliant, rotating sphere it had formed before.
The three field operatives continued firing shots in a futile attempt at stemming the tide, but they would never stop it like this—only slow it down, at best. Backing up all the while, shooting into these alien hordes of insect-like mutants, the light of the Anomaly engulfed them.
Pruitt was shouting over the intercom for a sitrep, but he would receive none as they shouted at each other in their desperate retreat, then all communications died.
The team vanished into the Anomaly, and the swarm followed.
#spoospasu#spookyspaghettisundae#horror#short story#writing#literature#spooky#fiction#mystery#thriller#spy#espionage#scifi#science fiction#Primeval#Future Proof#Grant#Ruiz#cat and mouse#flirting#play#counterintelligence#admissions#deception#honesty#coming clean#confiding#confidence#trust#Anomaly
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“Weird West” Taiwanese first-generation gunslinger
Anonymous asked:
Hello, I’m writing a weird west story. One of the main characters is a first-generation Taiwanese gunslinger and I have a few concerns regarding how I should tackle their arc and character. They’re non-binary and their full name is Huang Hsiao-Ling. Full disclaimer that while I’m non-binary, I’m not Taiwanese.
They have complicated but ultimately strong family ties, having prompted their parents to pick one of their names as an act of respect towards them. Their own choice was Hsiao (骁) while their parents chose Ling (玲), making their full name “黃骁玲”. I was able to find people with the same romanization, but I don’t know whether the hanzi works or not and I’d hate for it to be clunky. The literal name being “valiant tinkling gem” is deliberate as it shows both the adversity between their chosen path (骁) and their parents’ wishes for them (玲).
There’s some family tension but it comes from a place of worry concerning their dangerous career rather than a sense of strictness or tradition from their parents. Their older sister followed a wholly different path, which veered in a much safer direction to their parents relief. Despite this, both siblings have a close relationship and I plan for their sister to make multiple appearances throughout the story. I don’t want to fall into the trope of the main conflict being them distancing themselves from their family due to pressure. Their arc does however deal with their struggle in accepting their family’s concerns, and their disregard for their own safety. What should I remain conscious of as I write this arc?
Regarding their occupation, they’d already be a highly sought-out, seasoned sharpshooter with years of experience behind them at the story’s start. Since they’d have mostly worked solo over the years, they wouldn’t be much of a conversationalist to begin with. I can see how this could easily fall into the “overly competent aloof East Asian” trope and I was wondering how to make it clear that it has much more to do with years of experience turning them a little dour and their occupation requiring a certain level of inscrutability. I was thinking that scenes with their sister would show another side of themselves, a much more open person who’s got a soft spot for their sibling. Similarly, regardless of their relationship with them they’d always worry for their parents.
Thank you for your time and all the work you pour into this incredible resource!
Regarding the style name: I would like to note that none of us here really know much about it, because the practice stopped around the turn of the 20th century. I have heard, though, that any hanzi can be used, and the name itself looks fine to me. However, when writing the names of Taiwanese people, make sure you’re using the Traditional system vs. Simplified, as the Traditional writing system is currently still in use in Taiwan. Therefore, the name would be written as 黃驍玲.
Another thing to note is that while I don’t know much about the “Weird West” genre, I’m assuming this is using turn-of-the-century aesthetics and history as influences. If that’s the case, you may want to look up the Hokkien pronunciation of your character’s name, as Mandarin wasn’t widely used in Taiwan until after 1945, and it’s more likely they’d be speaking Hokkien instead.
When it comes to parents, I think you’ll be okay so long as the conflict between them and your character hinges on their safety and the parental concerns vs. wanting them to enter another profession due to either prestige or higher income. This was the main concern my parents had when my brother decided to enter the military because of the high safety risks he was subjecting himself to. I’d say so long as you have the parents coming toward this as being worried for their child’s safety and pointing out your character’s tendency to disregard it, you’ll be fine.
(tbc on personality aspects and how maybe including flashbacks and past experiences leads character to harden up, along with maybe showing their softer side to others)
--mod Jess
Just a note (which could have been intentional on your part) from a nonbinary Taiwanese perspective about ‘gendering’ in the characters: 玲 is typically assigned to girls and 驍 to boys in binarized naming. Obviously, gendering in names is a weird concept, and I myself (and many other nonbinary Taiwanese people) don’t adhere to the system. So, I’d say it works!
I also agree with Jess- Taiwanese culture is very family-orientated and so long as they’re characterized as a complex human being with goals, bonds, experiences and whatnot.
--mod Em
#Taiwan#Taiwanese#Names#Taiwanese names#nonbinary#genre#weird west#languages#Taiwanese families#asks#guns tw
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Imagine if Tim tried to organize a DnD campaign for the BatFam
- Tim is of course the DM, though when he is a character he's either a sorcerer a blood hunter or an artificer.
- Babs likes switch out DMing with Tim, if she plays she's an artificer or warlock.
- Dick loves loves loves playing bards but he is always way more than willing to play a cleric if no one else will. He also really likes playing a Swashbuckler rogue.
-Cass plays a monk or a rogue. She likes dex based classes.
- Jason plays a wizard. That's all. You can add to this, but he 1000% plays a wizard, the fucking nerd. I will also take a fighter gunslinger (or if you're me and have it saved before WOC took it down, a renegade).
- Jason only plays a fighter for one shots, he'd much rather focus on spells and what he can get away with with them.
- Damian complained for a solid hour and then Tim told him he didn't have to play and then Damian complained for another hour about how dare Tim try to exclude him from this game that could help improve his strategizing.
- Damian loves playing a ranger and will fight you if you insult the class. He likes Shadow Monks and Rogues too, but rangers are his favorite. He won't admit he likes druids. He likes druids.
- Bruce is tired and tried to get out of it until Dick brought out the puppy dog eyes. Bruce plays a Barbarian or a rogue depending on how involved he can be in the game. He has a soft spot for monks.
- Bruce likes to play as Orcs or Haflings. He won't explain why he likes Haflings. He also enjoys Warforged and Dragon Borns.
- Dick plays as an aasimar almost all the time. He also likes Changelings and Kalashtar but stopped playing as a Kalashtar after Spyral.
- Jason plays reborns at first to make Bruce uncomfortable. He now mainly plays as a gnome or firbolg. Also Genasi, but that's because I find them sexy and Jason deserves that.
- Damian first played as a human but when he got more comfortable he started branching out. He's now on a quest to find the best folktype to play as. Yes, he min maxes. No, he isn't annoying about it.
- So far Damian likes firbolgs the best.
- Tim mainly DMs, but if he and Babs switch out he plays an elf or a tiefling. He also likes Dragon Borns and playing unearthed arcana stuff. He likes to play as a changeling only to pretend to be a different folktype and see how long it takes everyone else to figure it out.
- Cass really likes Kenkus, they're her favorite. Satyrs are also fun for her.
- Babs plays as anything and everything. She usually just plays a human though.
- Duke likes to watch, he cannot handle playing with these freaks. He likes to add commentary though and anytime Tim talks to him while playing it just means Tim's character can break the 4th wall.
I'm sure I'll have more later but fill free to add your own stuff
#robin#dc comcis#tim drake#damian wayne#jason todd#barbara gordon#cassandra cain#dnd#headcannons#headcanons#dick grayson#things i say#ace rambles#BatFam#batbros#batman#bruce wayne
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Ashe x male gunslinger s/o
Ashe first met s/o when she and the rest of the Deadlock Gang began hearing rumors of some mysterious gunman causing trouble all across the southern states.
Intrigued by this fellow outlaw, Ashe began searching for s/o in the prospect of having him join up with her gang.
Word traveled quickly as s/o caught wind that the infamous Deadlock Gang is looking for him, much to his amusement.
“Interestin’. Well then…”
He grabs his weapons and twirls them around before putting them in their holster.
“If they’re lookin’ for me, it’d be mighty rude of me to ignore ’em.”
He says with a grin before saddling up and heading off on his trusty horse.
Later on after a successful heist, Ashe finally comes face to face with s/o, who cautiously has his hand near his revolver in case things go south.
“Howdy there ma’am, I take it you’re the leader of the Deadlock Gang? The name’s s/o, I heard it through the grapevine that you were searchin’ for me?”
Ashe is immediately taken with s/o due to his smooth southern drawl and charm, not to mention his incredible good looks.
Trying to maintain her composure and hide her blush, she explains that she wants to offer s/o a place in her gang.
S/o hesitantly pulls his hand away from his gun and thinks for a moment.
After taking Ashe’s offer into consideration, he turns to her with a smile.
“Alright. I reckon joinin’ up with y’all sure as hell beats being all on my lonesome. You got yourself a deal darlin’, s/o is at your service!”
He says as he tips his hat to her, making her chuckle and blush faintly.
“Excellent, you made the right choice. Welcome to the family s/o.”
As months pass since s/o joined up, Ashe’s attraction to him grew stronger and stronger, eventually leading her to fall in love with him.
Eventually, Ashe decided to confess her feelings to s/o and called him to her quarters to discuss something privately.
“Hey boss, is there somethin’ you needed from me?”
“Yes s/o, please take a seat. There’s something I need to tell you.”
Ashe proceeds to take a swig of bourbon before staring directly into s/o’s eyes.
“I’m not going to beat around the bush, I’m in love with you s/o. I was attracted to you ever since we first met, and my feelings for you continued to deepen since you first joined up with us. If you don’t feel the same way that’s ok, you’re a valuable member of this gang and nothing short of betrayal will ever change that.”
Ashe looks at s/o in anticipation of his response as he processes everything he was just told.
“W-wow boss, I certainly wasn’t expectin’ no love confession when you called me in here. I’m gonna be honest with you boss, I feel the exact same way. I’ve had a crush on you for the longest time, but I never spoke up because…y’know…you’re the boss and I didn’t wanna make things weird. What I’m tryin’ to say is that I love you too boss, I mean…Ashe.”
She blushes slightly before a seductive smirk forms on her face as she pulls s/o into a passionate make out session.
After that, Ashe and s/o spend the night together, officially announcing their relationship to the rest of the gang in the morning.
As a couple, Ashe and s/o work well together during heists and always have the other’s back.
Despite s/o being a really skilled fighter and gunslinger, Ashe is still protective over him and if he were ever to get injured, no mercy will be shown to whoever hurt her boyfriend.
Likewise, anyone foolish enough to try and make an attempt at taking Ashe down, whether it be a rival gang or an Overwatch agent wanting to take her into custody, will quickly be dealt with by s/o’s pinpoint accurate shots.
Ashe also has a huge soft spot for s/o’s horse, always helping him with feeding and washing him/her when they have free time, leading to her and the horse forming a close bond.
Dates often include spending alone time and drinking together in Ashe’s quarters after successful heists, as she and s/o can’t really go out for dates due to being wanted criminals.
On their second anniversary of becoming a couple, s/o suddenly gets down on one knee in front of the entire gang as B.O.B. hands him a tiny ring box, causing Ashe to gasp in surprise.
“S/o! W-what are you…”
He cuts her off by opening the box, revealing a very beautiful looking ring.
“I’ve been savin’ up for a long time to get this here ring, and I feel that now’s the perfect moment to do what I’ve been preparin’ for. I love you Ashe, and I wanna spend the rest of my life with you darlin’. With all that said, will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?”
Tears form in Ashe’s eyes as she nods rapidly.
“I love you so much s/o, of course I’ll marry you!”
She kisses him deeply as their fellow gang members clap and cheer for the two.
Ashe puts the ring on her finger and looks at it with a warm smile, happily reminiscing about the day her gunslinger s/o came into her life.
#overwatch#overwatch x reader#overwatch ashe#overwatch ashe x reader#ashe x reader#ashe overwatch#elizabeth ashe#overwatch imagines#deadlock gang#male reader#overwatch ashe x male reader#ashe x male reader#overwatch x male reader
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@nyxokal
OH BOY ALL THREE
Buckle in, this is probably gonna get long (and probably a little messily worded so apologies in advance for that) --
1.what drives them? what’s their ultimate goal?
I think for all three of them 'stopping the cult of Orcus' is, pretty much the goal in general? But their reason/motivation for doing so is a bit different.
Arolas: Ensuring that what happened to him doesn't happen to anyone else
Halcyon: Stopping the cult from hurting anyone else, and after that? She mostly just wants to go home.
Sigurd: For him - I guess it's more of a case of repentance, in a way. He's done… a lot of harm in the past. Don't think he'll truly be able to relax until he's done "enough" to make up for it. also maybe a smidge of revenge, dw about it
2. what was your original concept for this character? how did playing them change that concept?
Arolas: Oh boy - Arolas is kind of like, a progression of an OC I've had for over a decade now. A couple of things have remained pretty consistent with him. Largely: Anxiety, scars, being far less intimidating than he initally seems from appearance.
With how he is now, the general idea I was running with was like -- for lack of a better way of wording this a "lone wolf" character but -- played more like an actual wolf in that they're social animals. Don't do so well if they're alone for too long.
Halcyon: ngl i kinda just wanted to make a gunslinger (and also some other plot ideas arguably got out of hand)
Sigurd: The initial concept for Sigurd was basically just: what if pretty much everything went wrong for the guy? Can't elaborate too much there, unfortunately. Spoilers :3c
6. how have they changed in the last year? how about the last five years?
I am going to assume in-universe for this because with the exception of Arolas, I've not had any of these guys around for quite that long.
Arolas: Stagnated a little over the past five years but the past year? He's actually letting himself get close/attached to people now instead of near constantly isolating himself from other people. His self-confidence has improved a lot too. He still struggles, sure, but he's stopped hiding his face behind a mask all the time at least.
Halcyon: A lot of the change is down to her age, I suppose, since 5 years ago she'd have been about thirteen. She's a lot less timid than she was when she was younger, or she tries to be anyway. Also she has a gun now. The past year has been… rough, but she's getting there.
Sigurd: Well he's no longer a warlock, for one. Also a lil bit just his 'fake it til you make it' confidence has becoming something he's far less willing to force. He's had a real drastic change in cirumstances and it's honestly done a lot of favours for him. He's a lot more rilling to just, be himself and be honest about things. Again mostly just stuff that's happened in the last year or so with him.
15. is there something that never fails to make them laugh?
Arolas: His boyfriend's stupid goddamn jokes/puns.
Halcyon: Don't know if there's anything that's guaranteed to make her laugh, but despite what she says, she does have a bit of a soft spot for really stupid jokes.
Sigurd: Lighthearted pranks, mostly.
17. they’re crying—what did it take to make them cry?
Arolas: Oh that, depends, really. Often it'll be because he's anxious and/or triggered one way or another. Assuming he's allowing himself to get upset ayways.
Halcyon: Not exactly hard to do, she's a little bit of a crybaby :') Usually it'll be because she got overwhelmed, one way or another.
Sigurd: Someone or something probably pissed him off. He's got a bit of a tendency to bottle up his emotions but that kinda falls apart when he's sufficiently annoyed.
19. what sparks genuine, unadulterated rage in them?
Arolas: Hurting the people he cares about, more or less.
Halcyon: I feel like she's probably kinda difficut to genuinely anger like that but-- messing around with undead is an easy way to get there.
Sigurd: Anyone using/exploiting other people certainly get him close to rage. Almost guaranteed to flip his shit if someone's hurting kids though, doubly so if they're hurting their own kids.
#I'M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG#and for it being a damn text post but tumblr will not behave today apparently#oc stuff#Arolas#Halcyon#Sigurd#this is gonna have to be in two parts
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08 Jan 2024
Playing around a bit with formatting since I seem to like doing the liner notes but maybe not fill your dash with one post. Anyway, lemme know what you think
This week’s playlist:
Holding Patterns by Rise Against
Bde Maka Ska by Atmosphere
Hanging On by Sophie Lloyd & Lauren Babic
Footsteps in the Dark by Goodnight Sunrise
Bang Bang by Momma
Speak of the Devil (feat. The Score) by Magic Whatever
When You & Me Dance by Grabbitz
Eat U Alive (feat. Steve Davit) by Marian Hill
Until I Come Home by Two Feet & grandson
Quiet Little Voices by We Were Promised Jetpacks
Lunar Rotation Weekly by Winifred Yost
Liner Notes (beneath the cut):
Holding Patterns : A playlist needs a strong start, right? Well, I don't think that there are many songs strong than Holding Patterns. I've got a soft spot for rebellion punk and this is that 10000%. Makes me want to headbutt a fascist lol.
Bde Maka Ska : Now we switch gears real hard to a Minnesota rap song about survival and going with the flow. Unlike another song I have talking about BDE, this one is referencing a lake.
Hanging On : It's an epic kinda song with a Wild West feel but also metal and scream. It's a lot. But also really cool.
Footsteps in the Dark : I think I've already written about Timesick, which is the song that put Goodnight Sunrise on my radar. Where that one is much more of a nineties garage rock ballad, this one has a Neo-eighties feel. Still rock. But like. 80s influenced.
Bang Bang : This song is about fucking. Especially as someone's dirty little secret. Mamma once again graces the rotation, this time with a song that feels like it's a bit more influenced by Hole than Verruca Salt. Basically still music that came out before most members of the band were born.
Speak of the Devil (feat. The Score) : Continuing the songs about fucking and desire, this one is about forbidden fruit and being irritatedly attracted to someone. I love a song that has guitar riffs but also a very strong dance beat. Not sure what genre that is. But it's one I like
When You & Me Dance : This song is less about fucking, but more and more about being close to someone in a moment of time. Definite dance song. The music video is wild. Fun fact, I make character playlists for all my TTRPG characters, and this one appears on one for an emotionally stunted gunslinger that sees fighting as "the dance"
Eat U Alive (feat. Steve Davit) : Marian Hill is really good a making songs that are a fusion of thirsty and something else. Most of my favorites are either thirsty and funny or thirsty and foreboding. This one has a bit of a foreboding feel to me. She does a good job of capturing the craving of stupid desire. Plus gotta love the saxual innuendo (no that's not a typo lol)
Until I Come Home : This song brings together two of my favorite artists. There's this feeling of loneliness and separation. The whole thing is very cinematic and just powerful
Quiet Little Voices : Okay, this one isn't really an indie artist or anything. Like, even I know they had radio play. But still, it's a fun song, and one that a lot of you might have missed maybe. It's that same kinda brit rock (Scottish specifically but you fall under brit rock until you're independent sorry) that gave us little lion man.
#Rise Against#Atmosphere#Sophie Lloyd#Lauren Babic#Goodnight Sunrise#Momma#Magic Whatever#Grabbitz#Marian Hill#Two Feet#grandson#We Were Promised Jetpacks#discover music#discovery#lunar rotation#music#music monday#song#songs#new music
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love my strategy when i played on my musketeer which is called 'send out my only swashbuckler into the front lines as bait while the rest of us shoot them to death'
#val.txt#its sooo funny but also how i managed to get a soft spot for ridolfo#his team is also known as 'ridolfo lesbian protector' because he is protecting the lesbian gunslingers in the back#this strategy also got him killed so many times but thats FINE
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