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clareguilty · 3 years

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Sadie Adler/reader, a/b/o, werewolves

Prompt number 9 for kinktober this year!

Sadie Adler/fem!reader | werewolves, a/b/o Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~1400

“Come on!” you cheered. Your laughter echoed through the trees as you ran. The moon was full and bright and high in the sky, and you had the entire forest just to you. You and your mate.

Sadie didn’t respond, but you heard her pace quicken as she kept up after you. She could probably have overtaken you easily -- Alphas were just generally the fastest -- but she let you keep the lead as you ran down the mountainside.

Despite the cool mountain air, your skin burned as you flew through the brush. It was noticeable, but not uncomfortable. You passed it off as an effect of your transformation. All that mattered to you now was the shining moonlight and Sadie racing behind you.

You skidded to a stop right at the edge of a steep slope, gazing out across the Heartlands on the horizon. You could smell the flowers and the receding trails of wildlife as they fled to safety.

Sadie came to a stop right beside you, ears twitching as she listened to the sounds of the night. Her tail swished back and forth in eager anticipation. She sniffed the air as well and snapped to look at you, her eyebrows furrowed.

You grinned and grabbed her hand, tugging her down the slope to the glistening pool of silver light.

Moonstone pond was one of your favorite places to come on the full moon. You and Sadie had discovered it by accident one night. The smooth, white stones and still, clear water reflected the silver light to create the most magical sight. The whole pond glittered and shined, and you loved to sit with Sadie and pass the night away.

Just a little ways away from the pond were the ruins of a cabin. A storm or something must have blown a nearby tree over and it had fallen right into the roof of the old building. At first, it had spooked you. Now you didn’t mind it at all and the sight of the smashed wood was like an old friend to you. Despite having been knocked over, the tree still had enough roots in the earth to stay alive, and the branches were bright and full with whispering leaves that grew despite the roof they were trapped in.

You hadn’t been able to come in quite a while with the weather and your trip out to the west, and it was so nice to just have this night to yourselves.

“Sweetheart,” Sadie tugged on your arm. “Are you feeling alright?”

You grinned and nodded. “Of course!” Sure, you were still warm, and a little lightheaded, but you just brushed it off as excitement. She must have seen right through you though; her expression was wary.

Sadie frowned, looking off into the distance for a moment deep in thought. Her eyes widened, and she gasped. “Your heat…”

“Oh,” you breathed. How could you have forgotten? As an omega, you were due for a heat this full moon. You usually kept track, but you were so excited for tonight that it hadn’t even crossed your mind.

Sadie grinned. “I thought you were more excitable than usual.”

You shrugged and nuzzled against her. Now that you knew what it was, the persistent ache and need in your belly was becoming impossible to fight. How had you managed to ignore it for this long?

She pulled you into her arms, gently scratching just behind your ears. You hummed in satisfaction, tail thumping hard against the ground. “Do you want to go back home?” she asked.

You shook your head. That was way too far to travel. You had somehow made it all the way to the pond, but there was no way you could get home before you were totally overcome by your heat.

“That’s okay,” Sadie kissed your forehead. “I’m just glad I’m here. I’ll take care of you.”

You shuddered at the thought of being alone during your heat, especially out in the wild. You would have been totally vulnerable and disoriented, and suffering through heats on your own was frustrating and painful. Even just having your Alpha nearby would be a great help.

You made yourself as comfortable as you could in Sadie’s lap, gazing out at the beautiful night. Much to your surprise, Sadie’s fingers trailed over your stomach and slipped between your legs where you were already wet and aching.

“You don’t have to…” you kissed her cheek. “I’ll be alright.”

She tsked and dipped her fingers into your slick, swirling them around your clit with a firm press. “What kind of Alpha would I be if I ignored my sweet omega in heat right here with me?” Her fingers continued to make small, precise circles until you moaned softly and shuddered in her arms. “I can make you come all night long.”

You were so caught up in the satisfaction of being touched, you couldn’t even speak. You just buried your face in the crook of her neck and breathed in her scent. There was always something so overwhelming about that first touch during a heat. Your body amplified everything tenfold: pleasure, desire, desperation. You had been fighting it without knowing on your way down the mountain to the pond, but now you were totally at the mercy of your heat.

Sadie knew you too well, had made you come countless times both in and out of your heat. She tried to draw it out as long as possible, lazily toying with you and giving you just enough stimulation to satisfy the ache, but it only grew stronger and more persistent. Her slow, gentle touches were nothing compared to what your body needed, and you softly pleaded with her.

She kissed you as she made you come, lightly nipping at your lip as you gasped and moaned into her mouth. “Need to taste you,” she hummed.

You heartily agreed with her, spreading your legs so she could nestle between them and eat you out. Her hands were strong on your thighs as she held them apart. Her gold eyes gleamed up at you, a teasing smirk on her lips before she leaned in and wrapped them around your clit.

Your fingers wound into her hair, pulling her closer. Even though you had just come, you needed more. Your heats were always like this. Insatiable, overwhelming. You would be exhausted by dawn, and when you finally made it home it would probably take a day of rest to get you back on your feet again.

But you didn’t care to think that far ahead, all you wanted as Sadie. You needed her. “Alpha, please,” you begged. She soothed you with a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh.

You came quickly over her lips. The rush and the pleasure seemed to abate the frustration of your heat, and you found yourself wanting something different.

“Sadie,” you pulled on her hair. “I want you- want to make you feel good.” Now that your own needs were tended to, you wanted to return the favor, to serve your alpha.

She let you pull her up for a kiss, licking your own taste into your mouth. Your wandering hands made her laugh, and she pressed her forehead to yours. “You want to be good for me? Don’t worry.”

She climbed over you and turned so that she could eat you out at the same time that you could her. You grabbed her thighs and pulled her closer, desperate to make her feel as good as she had done for you.

The night passed in a lust-filled haze, you and Sadie giving into your heat and the pleasure of one another. By dawn, you were curled against one another, dozing and lazily exchanging kisses and touches. Moonstone pond gave way from silver to black to brilliant pink and orange as the sun began to peek over the mountains.

“I’m hungry,” you said. Your stomach punctuated your statement by giving a growl.

Sadie laughed. “We’ll hunt on the way home. Do you think you’ll have the energy? I can catch for the both of us.”

You shook your head. “I’m worried I won’t even be able to make it home. I’m sorry I forgot about my heat.” You felt bad because now it would take a while to get home. You were exhausted and weak from your heat, and you would be useless on a hunt as well.

Sadie kissed the corner of your mouth. “You’re fine. Don’t feel bad. I like caring for you. It’s my job to hunt for you and make sure you’re okay.”

You smiled and nuzzled against her. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

#sadie adler #sadie/reader #sadie adler/reader #sadie adler x reader #werewolves #alpha/beta/omega au #a/b/o #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #kinktober 2021 #smut #lemons

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astrovian · 4 years

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Richard Armitage article in Metro UK (22/10/20)

Transcript:

A common feature of many of the greatest works of art is that they are so rich as to constantly acquire new resonances. That is certainly the case with the Chekov classic Uncle Vanya, as the actor Richard Armitage discovered when playing Astrov, the countryside doctor, in an acclaimed new production earlier this year.

When the run began back in January, the Australian wildfires were blazing – which made the moment when Richard’s environmentally minded character warns against the dangers of deforestation particularly stark. As the weeks progressed and coronavirus became headline news, it was another section that began to hit hardest.

“My first speech [in the play] is about the doctor having to visit an epidemic area and help patients that were being packed into barns and laid on the floor because there was nowhere to treat them. You could hear the audience suddenly start to understand what that was like because they were seeing it on the news.”

Eventually, of course, the play was shut down, as with the rest of the West End. Now, though, a filmed version of the production is being released in cinemas to compensate for the curtailed run. The idea came together very quickly during the summer, and the shoot took place over four days on the original set in the Harold Pinter Theatre.

“For a film that’s going to be show in cinemas, I think it’s probably the fastest film ever made,” says Richard.

The finished product is not a simple recorded version of the original play, but a hybrid of theatre and film, with cinematic camera work roving around the stage and zoning on intimate details. The main difficulty for Richard in returning to his role was that, because he was flying in from New York, where he lives for much of the year, he had to quarantine for 14 days – and so missed the pre-filming re-rehearsal period.

“I had to do my work alone at home but that was useful because this is kind of the doctor’s story,” he says. “He’s an outsider.”

When Richard did finally return to the theatre to join his fellow cast members, he found it an emotional experience.

“Looking at that empty [auditorium], remember what it was like when there was a full house, almost being able to hear the echo of that audience, was really quite heartbreaking,” he says.

Filmed or not, it’s a rare treat to see Richard on stage. A few years ago, he made a blisteringly intense John Proctor in The Old Vic’s revival of The Crucible, but otherwise is better know as a screen star, from this breakout role in BBC spy drama Spooks to his Hollywood calling card as dwarf king Thorin in The Hobbit trilogy. This year, meanwhile, he has kept audiences around the world gripped during lockdown as the lead in the hit Netflix crime thriller The Stranger.

Richard has also cultivated an image as a bit of an action man – though he protests that he is far from a tough guy in real life.

“It’s so not me,” he says. At 49, he’s also unsure for how long he will continue to do such high-octane parts.

“When I was doing The Stranger, there was a big running sequence, and halfway through the day [filming it], I pulled a hamstring,” he recalls. “I realised, ‘Oh no, I’m getting old now, this is what happens.’ So, I’ve got to be realistic about it…”

Richard’s role in The Hobbit was, he says, and “untouchable fantasy for me because it was one of the first books I ever read.” What he never expected, however, with his broad 6ft 2in frame, was to become internationally famous playing a dwarf: “It was almost a joke when I got cast. I thought, ‘How are they going to do this?’”

Though he was simply shrunken in post-production, a greater challenge was having to act through prosthetics.

“It’s almost like having a completely Botoxed face, you can barely move it,” he says.

Having returned to New York, Richard is now holed up in his apartment, though he has found this strange year more tolerable than many. “I realised that I’m quite a socially distant person anyway,” he laughs.

Thanks to his sideline in reading audiobooks which he can record in a sound boot at home, he has kept busy during lockdown and has been preparing to produce two TV shows, while also writing his own crime thriller novel.

These extra strings to his bow are an “investment for the future when I’m not wanted on screen any more,” he says – even though that eventuality is very difficult to imagine, for others at least.

#long post #richard armitage #a crime thriller novel???

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xietyflix · 4 years

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Hidden Shadows | 01

⇢ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

⇢Genre: werewolf au

⇢word count: 1.5k

⇢ warnings: mentions of bone cracking...

⇢ synopsis: He’s different, yet he seems to be attached to you. The kindness, the care and the boldness that you have seem to make him stick around longer than he has to. The longer he stays the more you notice what come out of his shadow... his shadow that he wanted to stay hidden.. For your safety and his.

a/n: I’m still ALIVE I’m working on a few things so stay with me! Taglist is in my NAV.. I have improved a lot... and I’m proud... :) —————————————————————

3 am

Remember when our parents not to talk to strangers but how are we supposed to make friends?

Remember when they told us not to get in the car with strangers, yet there were apps created for a stranger to drive us to our location.

Remember when they told us not to travel at night because it’s dangerous.

Yet we still do it.

“Y/N are you sure you don’t want to stay any longer?” Melanie says pouting.

“No it’s getting late, plus you seemed occupied.” I spoke pointing towards the guy she was talking to earlier.

“Well let me at least call you an uber.” She said pulling out her phone but I stop her. “That will have a higher chance of me getting abducted. My house is only 10 minutes away I will be fine walking.” I said pushing her towards the club.

“Just text me when your home.” She said running back towards the door dragging the guy back inside.

I let out a sigh and began walking listening to my music playing kehlani’s song honey. I’m only five minutes into my walk and didn’t want to walk in the streets any longer.

I walked into a familiar ally way knowing it will take be to my apartment quicker.

“I countdown to the clock, saw you awake Don't walk away- AHHHH.” I stopped my tracks and pulled out one earphone. I didn’t hear anything so I put it back in and began to walk once again.

“Oh, I'm a beautiful wreck A colorful mess, but I'm fun- HELP ME PLEASE.” This time the voice was louder than my headphones which caused me to stop, I pulled out my headphones once more yet just in time.

“I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me.” The voice pleads and I took a peak around the corner.

“Wrong answer.” The man hovering over him lifts the poor mans hand. “I’m going to need the correct answer Blake or I’m gonna break those lovely fingers of yours.” The guy began shaking his hair out a bit.

I place my hand on my mouth afraid that if I make any sound I’m going to be the next one losing a finger.

“Where is our money?” The voice demands. “I don’t know i-“

“Wrong.” CRACK I flinch back and Blake lets out a scream.

“I said I don’t-“

“Wrong.” CRACK I flinch once more as Blake lets out another scream.

“Their on a boat for fuck sakes!” Blake confesses, why didn’t he just say that from the beginning?!

“On a boat where?” The voice growls preparing to break another finger.

“At the west loading dock.” He pants, oh god he’s gonna pass out.

“There’s more to it.” The voice says fixing himself in his squatting position.

“No thats-“

“Again Wrong.” CRACK

“It’s leaving tomorrow at noon!” Blake says swallowing nervously before continuing.

“Container 203. That’s it man that’s it.”

“I swear Blake you like to lose your fingers.” The voice said before snapping another and Blake screams in pain.

“I told you everything! Why’d you- My Damn hand man!” Blake said crying.

I should call the police? I need to leave without him noticing.

“That's because I felt like it.” He said picking up a biker helmet.

“I swear boss hates working with your kind. Your just like the rest of those do- AHHH.” The sound of flesh tearing causes my heart to beat loud in my ears.

“Wanna finish that statement Blakey?” He growls loudly Blake whimpers out a ‘no’

“Blake has anyone told you snitches get stitches?” He says looking down on him

“JK Wait I told you everything wait-WAIT.” CRACK CRACK CRACK.

I look away as the Blake gets his head bashed in, I guess I won’t be calling the police. I look around and notice I’m only a good running distance from my house,

Before I could even move I heard his voice once more.

“I hope you enjoyed the show. I usually don’t have many last this long.” I froze. He’s not talking to me. He doesn’t know I’m here.

“I know your there, your racing heart and your scent is giving you away.” He spoke causing my eyes to widen, How can he smell me from over here?

“And May I add that you do smell sweet.” He said. I stayed quiet.

“Are you lost? You know it's not nice to ignore people.” His footsteps seem to get closer I took off into a full sprint towards my apartment.

“You can’t hide!” He yells as I ran away from him.

I ran the fastest I could in order to get home, every second I looked over my shoulder to see if he was following me, and nothing.

I reached my apartment building ran up the stairs and punched in the password, I closed the door and quickly headed towards the elevator. Once I got into my apartment I locked my door and locked myself in my room I let out a long sigh.

“JK…” I mumbled remembering what they guy said before he became headless.

————————————————————

“You can’t hide forever.”

I gasp outta my sleep quickly turning on my lights, I look around my room just to see nobody but me in my room.

“Just a nightmare.” I spoke looking towards the clock just to see it was 6:50 am, I looked out my window just to see the beautiful sunrise.

I tossed my sheets off my body and began to head towards my shower. I proceeded to get ready for work, I heard my phone ringing I placed down my flatiron and answered the phone.

“Hell-“

“Why didn’t you call me last night!” Melanie screamed into my ear.

“I’m great thanks for asking.” I sighed putting on my pumas. “_____ I’m serious.” Melanie spoke.

“I went to sleep straight away, sorry.” I lied grabbing my hat along with my keys and bag.

“Well I’m glad you made it, there was literally a murder down the street from your apartment. But I’m glad your okay, see you at work.” Melanie said before hanging up.

I walked out of my apartment locking the door behind me. “Time to go to work.” I exited the building to see police everywhere, questioning everyone on the block.

“Excuse me miss.” I turned around to see a cop walking towards me.

“I have some questions.”

“I can’t answer them right now, sorry I’m going to be late for work.” I said backing away.

“Well give me a call when your not busy.” He said handing me a card and I took it before walking away.

If they don’t know anything yet means whoever it was is clear, and me telling what I know will only put me in more danger.

—————————————————————

Everything was going pretty fast at the coffee shop, I only have another hour and then I’m back home.

“______ can you please take the next customer while I go on break?” Jennie says and I nodded before taking her place.

“Welcome! would you like to try our velvet cupcake?” I said looking at the older lady.

“No dear I would just like one of your croissants, and I will be on my way.” She said handing me $2. I smiled, taking the money before sending her to pick up her order on the other side.

“Next.” I said putting the money away.

“Can I have one of those velvet cupcakes and banana milk.” I familiar voice said causing me to look up. My eyes met with a set a chocolate brown ones, he’s wearing a loose button up with a pair of black jeans.

“Like what you see?” He said pulling out his wallet. “T-That would be 7 dollars... C-Cash or Card?” I spoke avoiding eye contact.

“Cash.” He said looking through his wallet.

“Name please.” I said pulling out an order sheet writing the velvet cupcake on it.

“Can I give you my initials?” He says and I nodded.

“How about… JK.” He says causing me to freeze. I look up once more and see him smirking. “What’s the matter? You look at little spooked, didn’t expect me to find you?” JK says as I placed the order.

“I didn’t say anything.” I spoke truthfully. Causing him to nod, “You have said anything yet.” He said placing his hand on the counter.

“I don’t plan on it.” I spoke getting nervous by the minute.

“You can calm down I’m not gonna kill you… yet…I’m not sure.” He spoke causing my eyes to widen.

“7 dollars p-please.” I said and he laughs handing me a $100 bill. “We don’t-“ before I could deny the bill he gave me a look and immediately closed my mouth.

“You don’t what?” I shake my head taking the bill but he suddenly grabs my wrist.

“I’m not letting you off the hook. I’m gonna keep you around until I get bored of you or possibly give you the same treatment Blake had gotten.” He spoke letting me go to go pick up his order.

“See you around _____.” He says causing me to shiver.

I’m officially screwed.

#jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook series #jungkook scenarios #jungkook reaction #jeongguk #bangtan #werewolf jungkook

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thtwsnttchngthtwssmthngwthstyle · 4 years

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Meme kid emailed me and the rest of his teachers this at exactly midnight with the caption "fastest spook in the west". I emailed him because I was curious about whether he scheduled the email or manually sent it at midnight. He confirmed he did it manually and I'm telling you, this was the start to my morning I needed.

Happy spooky month 😂😂

https://youtu.be/K2rwxs1gH9w

youtube

#Youtube

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memescog · 5 years

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Fastest spook in the west

#dankmemes #Meme #dankmeme #Funny #Fun #MemesCog

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gingerbread-frogsu · 5 years

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You know guys I thought about changing the theme and icon of my blog, but then I realized... Its fall-themed and the fall is already started. I kept it fall/Halloween themed for all year. Well, I guess I’M THE FASTEST SPOOK IN THE WEST.

#shitpost #frog says stuff #Halloween

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michellemccarthy · 5 years

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My London Bucket List

I moved to London in April when the company I worked for in Ireland offered me the opportunity to work for their UK office for 2 years. When I moved, I created a bucket list for my London Life, to make the most of my time here. London is such a vibrant, buzzing city with so much to do and explore and so many exciting experiences to be had. I have been gradually making my way through it, ticking stuff off, as well as adding to it as I get new ideas. This is my current list, with more details to come on my actual experiences...

1. Eat curry on Brick Lane

2. See a West End musical

3. Go to platform 9 and 3/4 to visit Warner Bros and enroll in Hogwarts

4. Pig out in Borough Market

5. Have a drink in the Shard, looking out over London

6. Watch the tennis live at Wimbledon (queuing up a ghastly hour to get tickets)

7. Visit the V&A to see the Dior exhibition

8. Walk across the Tower Bridge and see it lift up

9. Step back in time at the Tower of London

10. Visit Stonehenge

11. Hike the Isle of Skye and stay in a Wigwam

12. Camp out (and rock out) at Glastonbury

13. Visit Camden Market and buy a trinket to bring home

14. Explore the Imperial War Museum

15. See the Rosetta Stone and Egyptian Mummies in the British Museum

16. Visit the colourful houses of Notting Hill

17. Buy something for my apartment at Portobello Road Market

18. Go to the Graham Norton Show live (no red chair for me please)

19. Visit the Chelsea Flower Show and admire the amazing shop fronts

20. Visit the beautiful Lake District and hike Skafell Pike

21. Watch the Cambridge and Oxford boat race

22. Go to a cricket match (with a picnic and bottle of wine)

23. Dance in the streets at Notting Hill Carnival

24. Visit Hyde Park Wonderland at Christmas

25. See the lights of Kew Gardens at Christmas

26. Go to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival and laugh until my face hurts

27. Picnic in Hyde Park

28. Fly over London in a Helicopter (bit OTT I know - unlikely)

29. Eat in the dark at Dans le Noir

30. Go on a London Ghost Bus Tour and spook myself out

31. See the Book of Mormon live (and laugh when you feel you shouldn’t)

32. Eat Michelin star food in Mayfair

33. See Buckingham Palace and wave to the queen

34. Run along South Bank as the sun rises

35. Watch an outdoor film at an open-air cinema

36. Have afternoon tea in a posh London hotel

37. Walk across the top of the O2 Arena

38. Go salsa dancing

39. Visit the Ritz (even if it’s just walking into reception)

40. Go to a speakeasy bar

41. Roller disco in Vauxhall

42. Take an exotic cookery class

43. See a Shakespeare Play for £5 at the Globe Theatre

44. Row a boat on the Serpentine

45. Ice skate at Somerset House

46. Vintage shopping in Shoreditch

47. Snap that iconic Beatles photo at Abbey Road Studios

48. Attend at yoga class at the Sky Garden

49. Eat at Shoreditch Boxpark

50. Live it up at the Royal Ascot

51. Stand under the Oxford Street Christmas lights

52. Go to the Summer’s Underbelly festival

53. Stand on either side of the Greenwich meantime line

54. Snap the Shoreditch Street Art on a walking tour

55. Sip a cocktail at Sushi Samba

56. Cruise the River Thames

57. Experience the Chinese New Year in Chinatown

58. Go to a London music festival

59. See the battle of San Romano at the National Gallery

60. See both parts of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child in one day

61. Hike Snowdon

62. Ride the World’s fastest zip line Velocity 2

63. See the deer in Richmond Park

64. Ride on the Eurostar to Paris

65. Attend a new creative class each month

66. Look out at London from Primrose Hill

67. See a match live in Twickenham (and Wembley too)

68. Take that classic tourist photo in a red phone booth

69. Eat an ice-cream and play vintage arcade games in Brighton

70. Eat Fish & Chips (yummy)

71. See an Andy Warhol at the Tate Modern, appreciating modern art

72. Enroll in Oxford (for a day)

73. Pretend to be in the movie the Holiday in the Cotswolds

74. Visit the fairytale town of York

#bucketlist #londonlife #mylondonbucketlist #london #travel #explorebritain

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charcoalthekobald-blog · 5 years

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I'm just gonna say it “this is the fastest spook in the west I have seen to date”

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rainythefox · 5 years

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Oh, Brother (RDR2 Fanfic CH.5/Final Chapter)

Synopsis: 1885, Illinois. A young Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur wander into a country town following a lead to swindle a wealthy homestead and break their control over the town. But while scoping it out, Arthur encounters a young John Marston, setting fate in motion that will eventually become a rocky, yet loyal brotherhood. A short multi-chapter story revolving around how Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur met John. (Rated T for violence and swearing) (Mostly Adventure/Friendship/Humor)

Ko-Fi page

AO3 Link

Chapter 5

Six months later...

"Relax."

The breath that came from John's lips was shaky. Arthur reached out and cupped a hand over the drawn revolver that quivered in John's fingers. He steadied the boy, looking down the range where the bottles sat atop the fence.

"Keep steady now. The key is to breathe in and then release it slowly and pull the trigger. Don't anticipate the kick, or you'll always miss your mark. You gotta get used to it."

Arthur stepped back, allowing John some space. John stared down the bottles with a determined gleam in his eye. He fidgeted on his feet, arm extended out with the revolver.

Arthur smacked the boy upside the head.

"Ow!"

"Steady, I said, boy!"

John focused again, letting a breath slip from his lips. He pulled the trigger. The revolver went off, a loud bang to their ears, the kickback tossing John's arms up.

All bottles remained unscathed. John growled in frustration.

"I killed a man with one of these things but now I ain't got the nerve to shoot a bottle."

Arthur chuckled. "That was luck back then. And luck's nice to have, but it ain't always gonna save you. You got plenty of nerve, kid. It's confidence you lack. Here."

Arthur picked his hat off his head and plopped it on John's head, grinding it down on his scalp and getting a small giggle out of the thin boy.

Arthur wasn't sure why, but John liked his hat, even still after running with them for six months. He never gave a reason to Arthur on why, but he guessed it didn't really matter. He'd let John wear it time to time, and it gave the boy a boost of confidence needed in his teachings.

"Now, let's try again. Spread your feet a bit further apart. There ya go. Aim with a steady hand."

Arthur fixed how John held his arms out with the gun aimed.

"Good. Now remember the breathin'. Don't anticipate the kick. Shoot that green bottle now. Go on. You can do it."

John sucked in a deep breath and released it. He pulled the trigger and the shot rang out across the valley. The green bottle shattered on the fence.

John's mouth opened wide with a grin as he jumped in victory. "Yes! I did it, did you see it, Arthur?!"

Arthur walked over and patted him on the back. "Damn kid, good shot! You keep that up, you'll be shootin' better than me."

John laughed. "I wish. There's no way I can shoot like you or Dutch. And I don't even wanna think 'bout tryin' to beat Hosea. You're the fastest I've seen with a six shooter and I saw Dutch shoot a bird out of the sky through the trees with his revolver. And Hosea hit a deer in the eye on a runnin' horse with his rifle."

Arthur took back his hat, ruffling the boy's hair. "Hosea will probably outshoot us well after he's old 'n gray."

"Probably."

Arthur nodded his head towards the grazing horses. "C'mon. I reckon we better get back to camp and skin that pronghorn or we'll be goin' hungry tonight. Besides, you got more lessons comin' up."

John groaned. "What's so important about readin' and writin' anyway?"

They mounted their horses and started back towards camp. John guided his horse to canter alongside Arthur's horse, where their freshly killed pronghorn was stowed.

The Wyoming valley extended in rolling, grassy hills around them within clusters of trees and surrounding mountains. The sun was high with not a cloud in sight, but the wind nipped hard on their skin, warning of coming winter.

Arthur took a drink out of his water canteen and passed it to John. "If Dutch and Hosea say it's important, then it's important. Ya need to be literate in the jobs we do."

"Sometimes I think that's harder than learnin' how to ride a horse or shoot a gun."

Arthur nodded with a soft laugh. "Yeah, it's hard sometimes. They taught me, same as you. I reckon if they can teach a dummy like me, then they can teach you too. I mean look at you. It didn't take long for you to learn how to ride a horse."

"I guess so…"

They rode together side by side while chatting. John could be a talkative boy and today he was full of questions. Arthur kept an eye out around them as they crossed a bridge over a low-running creek into a field of sagebrush and boulders.

His eye caught something down near the water and he quickly pulled on the reins to stop his horse. He recognized the familiar flower that bloomed there, the soft pink petals and dark anthers stood out amongst the reeds and mud.

Arthur got off his horse. He couldn't believe it. He didn't think he was far enough west yet to find one. The flower was his mother's favorite, and he remembered her telling him it brought good luck. He was so young when she passed, it was one of the few precious memories he had of her.

"What is it?" John asked.

"I'll be right back," Arthur replied, sliding down the slope into the creek bed.

Arthur wasn't surprised that John's curiosity and stubbornness got the best of him. He followed Arthur down into the creek bed on his horse. The steed nickered nervously around the reeds and muck.

"John, better not get down in this on that horse," Arthur warned.

"I'm fine."

Arthur bent down once reaching the flower. He admired it for a moment, caressing its petals. He reached down and grabbed the stem, carefully pulling it from the soil.

Just as Arthur stood his full height, he heard it. The unmistakable, nerve-shattering, dreadful noise of a vibrating rattle. He froze, looking into the reeds, but John's horse spooked. The gelding reared with a loud neigh, tossing John of its back and bolted.

John fell with a yelp into the reeds and muck. Arthur scanned the green stalks for movement, his hand hovering over his holstered revolver.

"John, don't move!"

He saw the serpent, the bend in the reeds as it slithered by in haste. Arthur drew his gun and shot it. John got up, his body and clothes now covered with muck. He flicked his hands to cast off excess mud, curling his lip in disgust.

"Ew!"

"I told you not to bring that horse down here, boy."

John spat out mud from his mouth. "Yeah, yeah."

Arthur picked up the rattlesnake, looking the limp body over. He grinned at John and his now even dirtier appearance. "Miss Grimshaw ain't gonna allow that, ya know."

"I'll wipe it off as soon as we get back, don't worry."

"Somehow, I don't think that's gonna be enough."

Arthur cut the rattle off the dead viper and extended it out towards John. John smiled and took it, testing the rattle out with a shake.

"Neat!"

"C'mon, best we get back and clean you up."

Arthur looked over the flower one last time before slipping it inside his satchel. Luckily, John's horse didn't flee far, taking comfort next to Arthur's horse. They climbed up and headed out once more.

"So, what's with the flower?"

Arthur frowned, wondering if he should tell him or not. "It was my Ma's favorite flower. One of the few things I remember 'bout her. She died when I was real young. I always pick one when we come out this way. They only grow out west."

"Oh."

Arthur glanced over at John. The boy became solemn, his eyes falling to the mane of his horse.

"What is it?"

"I never knew my Ma. S-She died havin' me. My Pa never told me much 'bout her."

Arthur understood how the poor boy felt, and sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Me too."

They were quiet for several minutes. Arthur scratched his cheek, uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. "Susan's strict but she cares a lot more than she lets on. And-And Bessie, well, she's the gentlest woman I know. I've come to care for them as mothers, in their own ways. I'm sure you will too. Them two ladies would never let anyone touch a hair on your head. Bessie for sure. She has quite the soft spot for you."

John smiled. "I like Bessie a lot. She's the nicest lady I've ever met. I-I like Miss Grimshaw too. I know she cares, even when she's bein' tough on me."

Arthur chuckled. "I'd be pissin' my pants more if I saw them two comin' after me after you were hurt even over Dutch 'n Hosea. You ever see Miss Grimshaw grab a shotgun while fumin' you better hunker down, boy, 'cause things are 'bout to get ugly. Hah!"

John laughed with him. "I wouldn't doubt that! She can be scary."

They took another trail going up into the evergreen forest along a rocky ridge. The path was worn down to dirt and rocks that jutted out from the soil, so they had to slow their pace some for the horses. Camp wasn't far now.

"I overheard Hosea and Bessie talkin' a couple weeks back, not long after we got here."

"You're a nosy little bugger aren'tcha?"

"Hey, they thought everyone was sleepin' and I happened to not be. But anyways, well, it worried me a bit. Sounded like they wanted to leave us."

Arthur shot his eyes over at John from those words. "Surely, you misheard. What did ya hear?"

"Bessie asked Hosea if they would ever try again. To leave this life behind and start their own family. Hosea asked her if she wanted to, but I didn't hear an answer. I dunno if she shook her head or what. But it's what Hosea said next that confused me."

"What did he say?"

John thinned his lips, thinking back. "He said…he said there's an internal conflict within Dutch, one that he doesn't even know about. And Hosea said he has to stay by his side…to keep Dutch from feeding an inner wolf…whatever that means. That he has to guide Dutch as well as protect us. He said he fears that Dutch is becoming disillusioned with his own beliefs, but I don't know what he means."

Arthur scowled, not sure what to take from those words either. For some reason, he thought back to Dutch's behavior at the Warren homestead when they saved John from being hanged. Arthur didn't see anything wrong with what Dutch did, seeing it as an "eye for an eye" for what Mr. Warren tried to do to a young boy, for all the corruption he was behind in Hickory and Andell. But there had been a certain…burning in Dutch's eyes that Arthur had never seen before.

Arthur shrugged. "Eh, Hosea worries too much sometimes. I'm sure it's nothin'. He and Bessie tried goin' straight once and came back. The thing is…Dutch and Hosea are a package. One cannot function without the other. Like buddy-sour horses if you try and separate 'em."

"So, it's nothin' to worry 'bout?"

"Nah, 'course not."

"Oh, good."

They came upon the camp, hidden in a glade within the spruce forest and half surrounded by an overhanging cliff. The tents and wagon were stationed around the rocky opening. A campfire was smoldering near some sitting stones and a log. The horses were hitched in a grassy patch near the cliff.

The gentle rumble of a small waterfall sounded on the other side of the cliff as the water cascaded into a basin next to the camp before flowing out into a large river.

Arthur and John hitched their horses with the others and got off. Arthur took the pronghorn off his horse and carried it over to the butcher table to skin later.

He looked around camp. Bessie was washing clothes in the basin while Susan hung some sheets up to dry. Hosea and Dutch were at a table, a chessboard in between them. Both looked to be in deep thought as they considered their tactics. Dutch was black and Hosea white, but Arthur didn't understand chess too well and so was lost at who was winning.

Arthur and John had just taken off their satchels and gun holsters when Susan stamped their way with a look in her eye.

"Uh oh," John muttered.

"John Marston, look at you! You look like you've been in a pigsty!"

"Sorry Miss Grimshaw, my horse threw me on the way home. I'm goin' over to the water barrel right now."

"Oh no! That won't do. You need a bath!" Susan pointed down nearby at the basin of clear, cold water.

John's eyes went wide. "What?! No way! I'd rather be eaten by wolves!"

John slipped behind Arthur to avoid Susan's grabbing hands. Susan stepped around Arthur's back, and the two preceded to chase each other around, using Arthur as an obstacle. Arthur watched them go round and round while arguing, catching Bessie's and their leaders' attentions.

"Arthur, help me!" John cried.

"It's just a bath, you little imp!"

Arthur groaned. He reached out and grabbed John, picking the boy up off the ground easily. He started walking for the basin with John fighting his clutches.

"There's no use fightin' it, John. Let's just get this over with."

He stopped at the water's edge. The water was clear and clean, but the basin sloped fast, becoming deep and turning dark blue in the middle. There were tons of fish in the water, and a gentle ripple came from the waterfall.

"I know you don't like water, but the sooner you get clean, the sooner we can get about our business."

"It's not that!" John hollered, squirming. "I…I can't swim!"

Arthur narrowed his brows. "Whatchu mean you can't swim?"

"Just that, ya dummy! I never learned and ever since I almost drowned, I've been scared to! Now let me go!"

"I know how to fix that."

"Wha-?"

Arthur tossed John into the basin. Susan gawked, jaw going wide as the splash sounded across camp. John burst out of the surface, gasping, limbs flailing. Soon Dutch, Hosea, and Bessie ran up.

"Kick them legs and move them arms, you'll learn!" Arthur yelled.

"You're evil!"

"Arthur, what the hell are you doing?!" Dutch snapped.

"What? That's how my Pa taught me," Arthur defended.

"Your daddy wasn't exactly right in the head then!" Hosea exclaimed.

"Well, he-" Arthur started, but Dutch smacked him hard across the back of the head. "Ow, hey!"

"Get in there and get him before he drowns!"

Arthur jumped into the water and swam the short distance to John. The clean, blue water turned brown from the muck washing away from the flailing boy. Arthur reached out and snagged John, and like a prickly bur, the wild boy seized onto him and wouldn't let him go.

He got to the basin edge and was helped out by Dutch and Hosea. John clung onto Arthur's back, terrified, soaked, and shivering.

"Sorry, John. I thought it would work with you too."

They helped John down. The boy glared up at Arthur, still shivering and dripping wet. "Your pa was an evil bastard, Arthur!"

Arthur shrugged. "I mean, ya ain't wrong."

"You alright, John?" Hosea asked.

"I think…so."

Dutch sighed. "Susan, Bessie, could you please clean him up?"

"Sure, Dutch," Susan replied.

Bessie took John's hand and guided him for the wagon to clean him up and get him fresh clothes. John followed silently, leaving a dripping trail behind.

Arthur felt Dutch's and Hosea's chastising glares on him. He blinked at them. "What?! He got clean didn't he?!"

Dutch shook his head. "You just graduated to a new level of big brother."

"Try to refrain from throwing John into bodies of water in the future until we can teach him how to swim…the proper way," Hosea said.

"Alright, sure." Arthur scratched the back of his neck, looking down at his own soaked form. "Well, s'cuse me, gentlemen. I better change and get to skinnin' an animal."

The sun had disappeared beyond the western horizon, and the stars glowed like perfect orbs across a black sky. Like infinite shining jewels, they lit the sky up in a spray of brilliance. They glimmered so vibrantly, Arthur felt he could reach up and pluck one from the heavens. He admired their beauty while eating his supper. They seemed so…endless.

John sat beside him, wolfing his stew down. The boy still ate like a starved dog, and Arthur was sure the boy ate nearly double he did. He had gained a little weight since being with them, but was still a scrawny twig.

He was clean now, even his hair seemed a bit less greasy. Arthur was surprised he was even sitting next to him. John sure had been mad for Arthur throwing him into the basin.

"John, I'm…sorry for that. I didn't know that almost drownin' freaked you out that much. Ya know, when my Pa did that to me, I panicked, but…but I learned. I guess."

John wiped his mouth with his sleeve, looking up at him. "It's alright. I know you meant well, even if it was really mean. But your Pa…well he weren't right in the head!"

Arthur laughed. "Not arguin' with ya there. But hey, we'll teach ya properly, whenever you're ready."

"Okay."

Dutch approached them at the campfire, a cigar curled in a finger. Hosea and Bessie played dominoes at the table while eating, and Susan read at the other end of the campfire while she ate.

"Arthur, I'm going to need you to come into town with me tomorrow."

Arthur sat his empty plate aside, nodding. "Alright, sure, Dutch. What're we doin'?"

"Meeting a man named Colm O'Driscoll. Supposed to have a good handle on any jobs out this way. We could help each other. He mostly works in California, which is where we're headed. So…could be a promising start."

"Oh, can I come, Dutch?" John asked, thrilled.

Dutch smirked, flicking the ash of his cigar into the campfire. "No, son. Not this time. It may be dangerous. I appreciate your enthusiasm though. Don't worry, you'll get to come with us soon enough."

John frowned. "Okay."

"How's your shootin' coming along?" Dutch asked him.

John glanced up at Arthur then smiled at Dutch. "Comin' along real good, Dutch. I'm gettin' better!"

"Good to hear. Say, how about you and I go out shooting when we get back from town tomorrow? I think it's my turn to give Arthur a little break anyways. I can show ya a little trick you may like."

"Really? Sure!"

Dutch chuckled, ruffling John's head. "That's my boy. Now, don't forget you have a study session with me and Hosea after supper, ya hear?"

"Oh, right. Yes sir."

"Arthur, try to get to bed at a decent time tonight. I need you well-rested for tomorrow, son."

"Don't worry 'bout me, Dutch. I'll be ready."

Dutch patted his shoulder and left the campfire. Arthur sighed and scooped up his empty plate and spoon. John handed over his empty plate as well.

"You want seconds?" Arthur asked.

John shook his head. "Nah, I better get my study over with."

"Yeah, I better get my chores done."

"Will I ever get to go with you and Dutch on jobs?"

"Well, sure. You just got to get better at shootin' and readin' and writin'. You're getting there, John. Dutch is real proud, he praises 'bout you all the time. You'll get to come with us before you know it."

"Ugh, just seems like I'll never get the hang of it."

"You will. I thought the same too. Dutch and Hosea and well…me also…we just don't want anythin' bad to happen to ya. We're just bein' protective, is all."

That got a smile out of John, and he looked grateful. "Thank you, Arthur."

Arthur playfully smacked the boy on the arm. "Course! Now, get over there and learn some readin'. Maybe we can play some dominoes later."

John left to go to Dutch's tent. Arthur took their plates to the wash bin and went to feed and brush the horses. Since the sun went down, the temperature dropped considerably. Arthur knew that winter was getting close, and hoped they would make it to California before the first snow.

After tending to the horses, Arthur helped Susan and Bessie with the laundry and dishes. He stopped to peak into Dutch's tent. A lantern lit the tent up, and showed Dutch sitting next to John and Hosea sitting across from them. John looked like he was mouthing something from a book.

"He's such a good kid. I'm so glad we found him," Bessie said, looking over at the tent as well. "He deserves much better than what's he had growing up."

Arthur slowly nodded. "Yeah. We all had it rough, but he…well, it ain't been easy for the boy. You can tell he ain't used to nobody carin'."

"You're right. He's sure has taken to you though. Follows you all over the camp…eager to go with you hunting or shopping."

Arthur rubbed his neck. "Yeah, well, he likes to follow Dutch around too, ya know."

Bessie giggled. "Ain't nothin' to be embarrassed about, Arthur. He looks up to you. That's always a nice thing."

Arthur softly snorted a chuckle, lowering his head. "Well, he likes you a lot, Bessie. I think…I think he may see you as a mama he ain't never had."

Bessie put a hand over her heart, a smile gracing her beautiful face. "That…That means so much to me. I'm happy to hear that."

Bessie stood up on her tip toes and kissed Arthur on the cheek. "G'night, dear. You boys be careful in town tomorrow, ya hear?"

"Yes, ma'am. G'night."

Arthur went to his tent to do some writing in his journal. He kicked his boots off and took his hat from his head. He pulled the flower from his satchel and admired it for a moment, thinking back to the blurry memories of his mother. He placed the flower in a jar and sat it to the side by his bag and weapons and his pictures.

John's writing and reading lesson went on longer than Arthur thought it would, and so by the time he was done scribbling in his journal, John finally appeared and crawled into the tent with him. Arthur wasn't surprised. The boy had his own tent now, but there were many nights that he slept with Arthur in his tent. It annoyed Arthur at first, but he had come accustomed to it and didn't gripe about it…too much.

"How'd it go?" Arthur asked, shading the sketch he drew of his Ma's flower.

"Good, I s'pose. Went on longer than usual. We didn't even get to play a game."

"Maybe tomorrow then."

"You draw really good."

Arthur pulled the journal closer to him so John couldn't see. "Don't be peekin'. This is for my eyes only."

"Dutch has a similar journal. He has some drawings in there, but not as much as yours. He writes real fancy though. Maybe one day I'll be able to read what it says."

Arthur heaved a sigh. "You ain't supposed to read or go through other people's things. It's rude and wrong. Better not let Dutch catch ya doin' that, or he may tan your hide."

"Ain't that what we do though? We go through folks' things and steal them?"

Arthur snorted. "Gotta point there. I meant your friends' things."

"Do they always stay up late talkin'?" John asked, looking out of the tent.

Arthur followed his gaze out of the tent and across the way. Hosea and Dutch sat at the table, both peering at the stars as they smoked on cigars. Hosea pointed at something in the sky while talking, but Arthur couldn't make the words out.

"Most nights, yeah."

"What do they talk about?"

Arthur grumbled. "I dunno. Life, philosophy, their dreams. All kinds of things."

"Must be nice to have a friend that you can do that with. To have all your trust in, to care for you and have your back. That you can tell all your hopes and fears to and-and know they will do anythin' for you."

Arthur closed his eyes, releasing a quiet breath. He reached over and grabbed his hat. He placed it on John's head. John smiled, his eyes tearing away from Dutch and Hosea to look up at Arthur.

"You have that right here. We all got your back, kid. We all care about you, and will never let anything like what happened back at that homestead ever happen to you again. You need someone to confide in…we're here."

John's cheeks flushed, but he looked so happy as he reached up at felt Arthur's hat. "Thanks…Arthur. I…I never thought I would find a place I could belong."

"Well, now you have."

"I promise, I will learn and become strong like you and will return it...I'll be loyal and strong and do anything in my power to help and protect you folks. I care 'bout all y'all very much."

Arthur chuckled. "Alright, alright. No need to get all emotional. I get ya and I have no doubt in it. Now, c'mon, let's get some shut eye. We got a long day tomorrow."

Arthur laid on his pallet and fluffed his pillow. He sat his journal aside by his satchel. John got comfortable on the other side of the tent on his own pallet, still keeping Arthur's hat on his head.

"Why do you like my hat so much anyways?" Arthur asked as he snuffed out the lantern.

"I don't really know. When I first saw you in Hickory, I just thought it was neat looking, and wanted it. But now…I think it's 'cause it's yours, and it makes you look like one of them legends or heroes you hear in them wild west tales. And when I wear it…I feel like maybe I can be like you one day. Brave, and strong, and loyal. That I can be a good man."

"Not sure if I'm any good. What we do ain't good. But you'll be a man one day. I plan to give that hat to my son, if I ever have kids that is. But who knows…maybe one day, I'll give it to you instead."

"I always wondered what it would be like."

Arthur glanced over John's way, but couldn't see him in the dark. Only the dancing of flames shimmered within the tent.

"Wondered what?"

"What it would be like to have a brother."

Arthur softly smiled. "Me too."

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 fanfic #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan #john marston #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews

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badnovels · 7 years

Text

shoot first

Retiring from a hard life as a gunfighter in the Wild West, Peeta Mellark finds one last wild thing he might never learn to tame.

Rated M.

A/N: I’m definitely not a historian, so please forgive any glaring accuracy errors. It’s all for the sake of fanfic entertainment!

—-

“Another. Over ice.”

You’d think a man with his reputation would warrant a few more cubes in his glass of whiskey, but the surly barmaid with eyes like daggers plopped two measly pieces into his drink before sliding it down the bar with an expert flick of her slim wrist, sending it sailing toward him along with a complimentary scowl.

Over ice? The Widowmaker squinted and held his whiskey up to the light. More like melting pebbles.

He swirled the amber liquid and took a swallow before letting the glass land on the scarred plank of wood serving as a bar—not that he hadn’t seen worse. He’d had drinks at establishments far less clean and tidy than this one, saloons with pox-ridden whores lining the staircase and flies swimming belly-up inside stinking steins of beer. They’d certainly not had an ice house at their disposal.

No, this place—Sae’s Place boasted the flashy, gilt-edged writing on the shingle hung outside of the saloon—was a damn pretty sight for sore eyes. And a sore leg.

He rubbed his thigh absently and not for the first time cursed the stray shot a couple months back that had all but ended his career as the fastest, most notorious gunslinger in all the Western territories. Oh, he could suffer through a few more jobs. Answer the distress call of another small town like this one and effortlessly clear out a handful of bandits menacing the population. Earn a wage, move on, rinse, and repeat.

But he was tired. It was time to face the facts: old gunslingers made dead gunslingers. And while at thirty-four he wasn’t exactly an old-timer, he wasn’t a spring chicken, either. His hand was as swift as ever, and he could ride, but mentally, he wasn’t in the game. The thrill had long since abandoned him, and whatever adrenaline rush and sense of accomplishment he’d once felt had disappeared with his foolish youth. What was left was a spotty conscience, a faulty leg, and a scarred, fearsome face that shook even the most professional of doxies.

And of course, there were the letters. He patted the pocket of his duster and grimaced, feeling the lump there.

The goddamn letters. He’d spent half of his life running from the responsibilities of home, but his past had come a-callin’ to hunt him down in the end—something no lawman, dueling desperado or bandito had ever accomplished. Guess that’d be what you call irony.

He drained his drink.

“One more,” he rumbled to the barmaid. “Now.”

The girl gave him a dirty look in return. An old saying crossed his mind, something about catching more flies with honey, but it’d been a long time since he had to use gentler means to bring a horse to water.

He watched her approach with the closest thing he’d felt to amusement in…Jesus, had it been years since he’d had a good laugh? He struggled to recall a blond, fresh-faced boy who’d always been good for a lark, and swiftly dismissed him to the furthest recesses of his mind, to where his past self had been banished.

But there was something about the way the barmaid sidled down the bar, reaching for his glass with slim fingers that somehow conveyed every bit of her aggravation with him. He was fascinated by the way they wiggled before wrapping around the handle of the cup. Enjoyed how she mulishly flipped that sleek, dark braid around. He liked how she sighed and her little pink tongue stuck out, as if pouring his drink was a hardship.

He especially liked to watch her walk away.

“This is your sixth drink. Don’t you think you’re milkin’ it a bit, Widowmaker?” She pulled down a bottle from the end of the bar and filled his glass again. Flick. The glass flew across the wooden plank and landed in his hand, but he almost missed the catch when he heard her speak.

“How so?”

“Even famous gunmen—” this she said with a roll of her silver-dollar eyes “—gotta get cut off eventually. This here is premium liquor. You done had more shots of it than the amount of men you ran outta town.”

It was official; he was in a bad way if his dick was made hard by the low, modulated voice of a surly lil’ barmaid from a know-nothing town like Twelve Rocks. But it’d been awhile since he’d been with a woman and his body was telling him he ought to pursue that interest, to soften her a bit, work her up to accepting one of the brothel tokens the grateful sheriff had stuffed into his pockets before shoving him toward Sae’s Place.

“You’ve got a real smart mouth,” he finally said. Well, no one had ever called him a charmer.

She scoffed. “You’re the first who’s told me so.”

“Really.”

She gave him another one of those scornful looks. The pressure at the seam of his trousers grew more intense.

“No,” she deadpanned, turning away from him to serve another customer.

He took the opportunity to look the girl up and down, taking in her low-cut dress. The garment was much like the ones worn by the saloon girls lounging on the laps of men they would eventually trickle upstairs with. It was a puzzle; the barmaid’s clothing proclaimed her to be available, but her demeanor did not.

His eyes drifted over to the wall beside the bar, where keys attached to tags hung from pegs on the wall. About half of the pegs were empty. But his eyesight was excellent, and from there he could read the minuscule writing etched onto the remaining copper tags: Lola, Rose, Belle…

“What’s your name?” he asked curtly, raising his voice to be heard over the din of the saloon.

She stiffened.

“What’s yours, Widowmaker?” the girl shot back, a note of suspicion in her voice warring with a hint of smugness, as if she had gotten one over on him. Well.

He took a sip from his glass. “Peeta.”

She blinked at him, and he felt real pleasure when her mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Yours?” he asked again, his stare deliberate. Peeta waited. When no name was forthcoming, he challenged her, “Believe that’s how name exchanges work.”

She gritted her teeth in response.

“Katniss!” hissed a dry, crackling voice. “What’re you doing, girl? Gettin’ on the last nerves of this fine fellow, I s’pose. Leave ‘em alone and let ‘em mix with some of the other ladies.”

The barmaid—Katniss— met his eyes, and they both turned to look at the wall of keys. His gaze drifted over tiny names, until he landed on one that made his heart pound and his pulse race like he was a green, wet-behind-the-ears virgin rather than a hardened gunman.

Katniss. Room 4. No guns allowed in room.

No guns? That’d be a problem. He paused. Looked at the lil’ barmaid with the smoky voice and breasts like two ripe plums and a smart mouth he had thoughts about.

Then the owner of the reedy voice joined Katniss behind the bar, jarring him from his daydreams about hard-to-get saloon girls with tempting lips and olive skin.

“Good sir,” crooned a crone with garish red cheeks and a purple dress. Her white, powdered face was lined with age and greed. “I’m Madam Sae, the proprietor of the place. Let me show you some of our finest girlies—the best you’ll find this side of the Mississippi.”

He calmly took his gun from its holster at his side and slid it across the bar along with a pocketful of brothel tokens, exchanging every one of them for a full night of favors with the surly girl with a smart mouth.

Katniss gaped at him in return.

“No need,” Peeta said. He stood and walked toward the wall and plucked a key from the wall. “Made my choice.” He glanced at Katniss out the side of his eyes as if she were a spooked mare. “If she’ll have me.”

Sae recovered quickly, a consummate professional. “Course she will,“ she said briskly, scooping up the tokens. She left the gun on the bar top. “Take your piece with you, Widowmaker. I make exceptions for heroes.”

“‘Preciate that.” He reholstered his gun. “Just wanted to be above-board.”

“Madam—” Katniss protested.

“Get up there now, girl.” The madam lowered her voice to a deadly warning, her hand raised as if to slap the barmaid. Peeta tensed, poised to interfere. “You’re ‘bout useless to me. Hadn’t had a man in an age. Do this or you’re out, y'hear me?”

“Yes,” Katniss replied, subdued. She turned away and busied herself with choosing a lemon from a bowl on the bar, which she then slipped into her pocket.

Odd, he thought.

“Go on, now. Get your room ready,” Sae commanded, and the girl walked toward the stairs and ascended them without looking back.

Peeta ambled over to his stool and finished his drink with one swill. He gave the madam an assessing look. “Doesn’t seem too willing.”

Sae waved her hand. The loose flesh of her upper arm moved with the motion. “Pah. She’s just a contrary one. Girl don’t know how to act when someone picks her up, happens so rarely. Don’t let ‘er fool you, though. Prolly relieved to be of some worth.”

“You’d kick her out?“

She shrugged and picked her stained teeth with one long, yellowed fingernail. “She’s good at the bar and with a broom. Depends if another girl needed the room. One that can bring in some decent scuds.”

“Hm.”

“Lemme know if she gives you a set-to. I’ll have words with her.”

He bounced in his palm the copper key that proclaimed he was the guest of Katniss, Room 4, No guns allowed in room. “Sure we’ll get along just fine.”

Sae nodded a bit doubtfully. “Even so.”

He retrieved his hat from where it sat on an empty stool and nodded at the madam. He wound his way through the crowded tables littering the saloon floor, and when one of the drunk, flailing men accidentally clocked his bad thigh, Peeta hissed out a stream of air.

“S-sorry,” the other man said, his glazed eyes widening in fear. He leaned back in his chair, and a bead of sweat glistened on his dusty cheek. Everyone in the room seemed to hold their collective breath.

“It’s fine,” Peeta ground out, clearing the tables and heading up the stairs.

It was ridiculous, how these grown suckers acted. As if he’d have a shoot out right there in the saloon over a stray elbow. He’d always appreciated, if not enjoyed, the wide berth his reputation afforded him in the past, but now that he was on his way out of the profession, he found it…exhausting. Tiresome.

He cleared the steps and entered the long hallway, almost running into a saloon girl and her john as they rounded a corner.

“Apologies, lover.” Her heavily made up eyes followed the line of his sturdy, finely made boots, the legs of his buckskin trousers, up his vest and then stopped like a wayward train off its track when she reached his face. He knew what she saw there—zippered scars bisecting his left cheek, a thick, puckered mark running from his right eyebrow down past his chin. A permanent, disdainful twist to his lips courtesy of a knife fight gone wrong. Nose thrice busted, set only once. A cold look in his eye that had come home to roost permanently after his dozenth or so kill.

“Oh,” she breathed, twirling a thick, blonde curl around her red-tipped nail. The fear in her eye gave way to a sick sort of excitement, the type of look he had come to recognize in a certain kind of woman. She stepped away from her john. “Fancy a roll with Glimmer? Best in the house, yes siree. All the fellas say so.”

“I’ll pass, thanks.”

Peeta moved to walk around the her, but she stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“Sae’ll tell you. You won’t find better.”

He stepped back deliberately, letting her hand fall away from his body. “I said no.” Then Peeta pushed past her, ignoring her insulted exclamation. He knocked on the door of room number four.

“Her?” Glimmer scoffed, stamping her barefoot on the floor with an affronted smack. Her john slinked down the stairs, reeking of sweat and cigar smoke. “But she’s—”

Out of patience, Peeta turned his head and fixed the woman with a look. She lost her color and fled down the steps after her john.

The door opened to room number four, revealing his small, frowning barmaid wrapped in a blue, silk robe. The tension in his body eased, to his consternation and befuddlement. Must be the scent of lavender wafting from inside the room.

“You need an engraved invitation to come in?“

He gave her the same look he’d just given the other saloon girl, and Katniss laughed.

“Oo-ee, gunslinger.” She walked backward, her hands held out in mock supplication. “That’s a scary face.”

His eyebrow twitched. “Thanks.”

“Shut the door, would you?”

He did as she asked, and there was a hushed moment as they both stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. The bed in the corner was all but taunting him. He hadn’t slept on a real mattress in well over a fortnight.

Katniss toed off her slippers, and her eyes landed on the holster on his hip. “If you wouldn’t mind taking that off and placing it over there.” She pointed toward a small table by the window. “I’d be much obliged.” She shrugged out of the robe, and his mouth went dry. All he could see was delicate lace, silk and soft olive skin.

“Scared of guns?” he finally asked. Only the moans and squeaking of bed springs in the nearby rooms intruded in the silence between them.

“Daddy was shot and killed.“ Her reply was curt while she hung her robe on a hook, presenting him with the scantily clad back of her. Peeta didn’t know whether to look or to listen. His brain and his dick had opposing thoughts on the matter. "Tend not to think much about guns when you see the holes they make in your loved ones.”

“That’s fair.”

She made a huffing sound out of her nose, not unlike a wild mustang he’d once broke way back when Peeta was just a small shaver on the family farm. Then there was just the tense quiet all around them as she regarded him in her underthings. It struck him then that she looked like a very brave girl. Just a girl.

But a pretty one, even with that scowling, stubborn face. Maybe because of it.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want.” It took an act of God to get the words out from his raspy throat.

The look she gave him was pure skepticism. “You just wanna stay up here playin’ pattycake all night?’

"No.” An truthful answer. “But I’d…settle for holding you a little.”

“Which part of me?"

He sighed in response, and her faced softened a fraction.

"Don’t mean to be difficult,” she muttered, lighting the wick of a half-burned candle. “Just…what d’you want from me? Just tell me exactly how you want me—it’s easier that way. I feel like the other shoe is gonna drop with all this nicey-nice.”

“I’ve been on the road for weeks. I’m tired. And a bit lonesome,” he said, the words blunt. “Haven’t felt the kind touch of a woman in awhile.”

“Oh.” She looked at him as if he were a particularly difficult riddle.

“Been even longer since I’ve found anyone I spark with. And you’re…” He struggled for the word, his voice gruffer than he’d like. No helping that. “Clean. You have an honest face. Different. But I won’t force you.”

“Different.” She sounded out the word, as if tasting it and finding the flavor lacking. “Sounds about right.”

“Didn’t mean it as an insult.”

“No. I figured. Just heard it all my life. Happens when your daddy is half native,” she explained, matter-of-fact. She watched his face for some kind of cue. “Changed your mind yet?”

“Bout what?"

"Playin’ pattycake with me. Since I have Indian blood and all.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” he asked blandly.

“Turns some people off. Others, makes ‘em more interested. Gives ‘em a thrill to have something different from blonde little Sally at home.”

Both the former and the latter made him feel a flash of anger that he worked to keep out of his expression.

“Doesn’t bother me.” Peeta looked toward the bed again. “I’m a murderer and an outlaw, depending on who you ask. Bother you?”

Katniss laughed wryly. Funny how that sound made him want to smile. “Nah, gunslinger.” She nodded once, the movement as sharp as her blade-like nose. “Alright, then. Guess we can get down to business.”

It occurred to him that he could be a gentleman and protest. But the girl was half-naked, willing, and…well. He was no gentleman.

“Sit down,” she invited, taking his hand and leading him toward the bed.

His fingers gave a curious tingle when her long brown ones wrapped around his, and he imagined tiny sparks between them before cursing his flight of fancy. A handful of months without sinking into a warm body and he was seeing fairy tales. There was something wretched about that.

He sat down on the sagging mattress, and watched warily as she knelt down in front of him. Was she going to…? He’d only had a woman take him in the mouth a couple times in the past, and he’d had to pay extra for the service.

“Lift your foot,” she said instead, and Peeta’s disappointment was tempered by puzzlement. He did as she asked, and she worked off one boot, then the other. When she reached for his socks, he almost balked. He was more surprised by the intimacy of having a woman remove his footwear than having one lick his spout. He’d rarely if ever removed all of his clothes when lying with a woman.

He took the liberty of pulling off his shirt and vest while her nimble fingers worked at the button of his trousers, and he lifted his hips so the wool slacks pooled down around his bare, uncomfortably exposed feet.

She stared up at him for a moment, her eyes traveling over his body.

“It tickles me,” Katniss said, sitting back on her heels, “to see you in your union suit.”

He thought he liked hearing genuine delight in her voice, rather than that dry, jaded cynicism. If only it wasn’t aimed straight at his dignity.

“You thought I didn’t wear underclothes?”

She shrugged her smooth shoulders, and his eyes followed the rise and descent of them. “Dunno. Guess I thought the Widowmaker would’ve had on metal plates. Nothin’ as ordinary as those.” Her lips curved again.

“I’m a gunman, not a knight of the round table. Hate to disappoint, but we wear long johns.”

“Aw. Don’t get testy, pal. I was just funnin’ with you.” Katniss watched him as he started unbuttoning the union suit. She rose to her feet. “Need some help with that?”

“No.” He stood and stepped out of the underclothes, baring himself completely. “Better? Or am I still tickling you.”

She chewed her lip, all amusement fleeing from her grey eyes. “You’re…big.”

“Some have said.” Peeta reached out with a scarred hand and tilted her chin up.

Then he did something truly unusual. He kissed her.

He remembered every kiss he’d ever had. Lavinia Halleran at a barn raising when he was fourteen—she bit his tongue and made him bleed. Clove the whore when he was fifteen. Her lips tasted like cheap perfume, and her tongue was cold. And Mirabelle Madison, a married lady of distinction who wanted to ride the legendary Widowmaker. That was the best kiss of the three, but still unsatisfying and vaguely unpleasant. He begged off kissing after that, especially the whores. Kissing was unnecessary to the act of sexual relations, and he always discouraged the doxies from trying.

But he’d had a powerful hankering from the moment he laid eyes on his barmaid, borne from some bone deep desire to touch her. And fucking didn’t seem like enough.

He wanted to wrap that sleek braid around his hand, so he did. He wanted to pillage that smart mouth of hers, so he did. When she whimpered against his lips, he licked at hers in response. Frustration set in, because he wanted more, but wasn’t experienced enough in that particular art to follow through. For not the first time that day, he felt like a boy rather than a grown damn man.

“Wait,” the girl said, pulling away. Peeta tugged her back and pressed his lips to hers again, his hands skimming up her sides and snagging on the stiff material of the corset. He wanted the thing, off. “No, wait,” she said again, laughing against his mouth. He liked that. She looked up at him with a red, puffy mouth. “Like this.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” She kissed him again and worked his mouth open with her lips, and then slipped in her warm tongue and touched the tip of it with her own. His hands dug into her hips. The crisp smell of burning beeswax and cinnamon from the burning candle wafted into his nostrils as he inhaled deeply. He dimly registered the tune of a piano downstairs and the lusty sounds from the bedroom next door, but the slick music of Katniss’s tongue working against his was a louder melody.

He was the one who pulled away that time. He sat down on the bed behind them and cupped her hips, looking up at her with a face Peeta was certain looked even more hideous by the shadows of candlelight. Scars were made deeper, lips more twisted.

But if she was discouraged, her expression didn’t show it. In fact, he was downright mystified by the flushed, panting desire he saw. He’d only seen something even close to it on the girls who found pleasure in pain, and he hadn’t pegged Katniss for the type.

He tugged at the strings of her corset with one hand. “Can I take this off?” he asked, voice gruff. His cock was hard as a tack.

“Yes,” she said, her eyes conflicted, like she was trying to call back some composure. She watched his hands as they started to unlace the satin thing. One of his big, rough fingers brushed at the newly revealed skin, and she trembled. “I—yes. Whatever you want, gunslinger.”

“No. Tell me you want it.” With self-control he hadn’t known he possessed, Peeta let his hand fall away. He focused on the faded wallpaper behind her rather than her tempting, half-exposed chest, taunting him like a partially unwrapped birthday present. “You tell me, dammit, or I stop.”

She huffed. Lightly stomped her foot against the wooden slats of the floor. Glared down at him and looked away.

“I’m not supposed to want it,” she finally said, something like shame in her voice.

Ah.

“Yeah? Says who?” He slid his hand up her thigh, past her garters and stockings to the place that he hadn’t allowed himself to look at yet. He looked at her and pushed aside the thin material covering the shadowed triangle between her legs, and she nodded ever so slightly. Then he slipped a finger into soft folds. “You’re warm, and wet,” he said lowly. She met his eyes and stared, listening intently. “That tells me you want me, too. And that’s real good, because I need you slippery, because like you said. I’m real big, honey.”

“Yes,” she said, as if mesmerized.

“Can I take your hair down?”

She nodded, her expression dazed as he reached up and slowly unwound her thick, woven braid. His fingertips brushed against the silky ends, a warm feeling trickling through his gut and suspiciously north of his groin where the usual pit of desire was located. He met her eyes and an electric charge passed between them, and the unfamiliar tenderness creeping over him turned to something else as he wound her hair around his hand.

“Peeta,” she said, her lips barely moving.

Something about his name on her lips and the waterfall of inky black strands in his fist set a primal fire in him, and he lifted her up with one strong arm and down onto his lap as easily as if she were a doll.

He groaned when his cockhead brushed against her bare slickness, and he tilted her neck to the side and bit it, wanting, needing, to claim the girl.

“Wait,” Katniss gasped, scooting back on his thighs and away from his straining hardness. “Not like that.”

“Like what?” He was hanging on by a thread, gripping her hips with a pressure that he was afraid would leave bruises. He eased up, but she grabbed his hands as if to say it was okay.

“I need this,” she said, twisting toward the small table beside the bed. He watched in confusion when she picked up the lemon he had seen her take from downstairs. “You got a knife?” she asked with difficulty.

He was gratified to see she was as wound up as he was, her olive cheeks burning and her nipples hard little points he wanted to bite.

“A knife?” Peeta asked, distracted by the red tips. He took one into his mouth and she sighed. Not a mewling whimper or theatrical scream from Katniss like the last woman he’d fucked—a widow some nine months past—but a breathy, shivery little gust of air, like she was falling apart.

“I need it to…to cut up this…this…” She dropped her head back and ground down onto thigh, so wet that he could feel the moisture on his skin. “The lemon.” The fruit in question fell from her hand and rolled across the wooden floor when he nuzzled and sucked at her breast.

“Darlin, I’m not followin’ you,” he gritted out, releasing her nipple with a pop. “What in hell’s name are you talkin’ about? I don’t even like lemons. Or lemonade.” He scooted her closer to him, his cock searching out her folds again. “I hate em’ even more now.”

Katniss put both hands on his chest. “I can’t have a baby.”

He stared at her, his face blank. “That’s good. Real good.”

“No. The lemon, we slice a piece. Then…I stick it up…you know.” She looked flustered and beautiful, and if he wasn’t so disturbed by the sudden realization of what the lemon was for, he would have kissed her pretty, flushed cheek. “I just need some help because I’m not too sure how to go about it by myself. But I can’t have a little one—”

“I’ll pull out,” he said, covering her mouth with a big hand. “I’m not puttin’ a lemon inside you.”

She looked at him doubtfully. “I don’t know.”

“Haven’t been with a woman in ages. No diseases.” His jaw twitched. “Normally have a rubber on me, but even still. There’s been no trail of bastards behind me. Don’t reckon I can have them. Childhood illness,” he explained shortly.

Katniss chewed her lip, already made red by his clumsy mouth. “I ‘spose that’s okay,” she said. “Just this time.”

Peeta tweaked her nipple. “Yeah?” he asked lowly. “You sure?”

She nodded and then gasped when he wasted no time, lifting her up and then down onto his hardness.

“Damn,” he swore, his hands tight around her hips. “I didn’t…you feel so…” He bucked upward and she went along for the ride, a passive, gasping participant as he worked her over his cock as if she weighted nothing more than a sack of flour. Long minutes passed in a series of grunts and prayers and exhalations.

“Wait.” Her eyes were screwed tightly shut and her hands scrabbled at his shoulders. “Wait, something—something is happening.”

“Good,” he ground out. “Let it happen. Let go.”

“Peeta- oh…” Katniss stiffened and her body shook with tiny tremors, and the sharp clench of her fingernails into his skin sent him into a sudden release right along with her.

“Fuck,” he said, lifting her from his still-spurting cock. “Sorry.”

She climbed off him and padded over to a small table and brought back a cloth. She wordlessly cleaned him off while he stared at the crown of her dark hair.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. He hadn’t spilled like that since he was a boy with his first woman.

“It’s okay,” she said, standing straighter. “You were…that was real nice. You were nice. I’ll remember that.”

Peeta grabbed her wrist when she turned away. “Let me clean you up.”

“I’ll need to wash this off first,” Katniss said, gesturing toward the basin.

“No,” he said, drawing her down to the bed. “With my mouth.”

—–

The sunlight streaming through the smudged window of room number four sent Peeta’s eyes into slits as he woke up from one of the best night’s sleep he’d ever had. He lifted his head and looked hard at the face of the girl lying next to him.

Then he rolled off the bed, dressed, availed himself of her tooth powder, and walked downstairs to find the whoremonger Sae.

“Here,” Peeta said, turning a bag upside down onto the bar counter top. The old woman blinked down at the pile of coins.

“That good?” she said, a greedy gleam in her eye that he didn’t much care for. It said she was thinking about squeezing the goose until it laid more golden eggs.

“This is enough to buy a year of her time.” His voice was cold and absolute. He put as much murder into it as possible. “No other men. I’ll be back around to check on her. And if there’s even a hint of her bein’ mistreated, I’m gonna know. And I ain’t gonna be happy. Understand?”

“Yes,” she whispered, shrinking backward even as her shaking hand reached out for the gold coins.

“Treat her nice. Treat her like a daughter,” he suggested.

She nodded so hard her jowls quivered. “I will.”

—-

Seven Months Later

Peeta meant to come back long before this. He’d thought about the girl at the saloon far more often than he cared to admit, but being back at the family homestead had taken up the bulk of his time.

The letters from his father had spoken of dire things— his own failing health, a dead brother, and a desperate need for his youngest son to come home and take care of matters.

Peeta thought it would take a month, maybe two at the most, to settle things at Mellark Ranch, but two months had quickly turned into double that, and before he knew it, he was a rancher instead of a hired killer. Foals needed to be born, and stallions needed to be broken, and crops didn’t just tend to themselves.

But then he finally had a moment to breathe, and with that came an aching inside of him that he could only chalk up to being hard-pressed for a warm body to slip into. And since the body of his choice was only a day’s ride away, well, why not?

Now he was walking into the batwing doors of Sae’s Place, his hair freshly combed hair and a pep in his step that was unbecoming for the scarred-up bastard who was once the Widowmaker. He was practically whistling, for fuck’s sake.

Peeta pushed his way through the crowd and headed toward the familiar countertop at the front of the room.

“Lookin’ for a girl,” he told a barkeep pouring beer into a glass.

“Ah, yes. We got a lot of those,” the man replied with a knowing smirk. He nodded at the wall of keys, where Peeta had once found one labeled Katniss. “Nice ones.”

“Don’t want a nice one. Lookin’ for Katniss.”

The barkeep’s face went blank. “Oh- that one…she’s not for sale.”

“Glad to hear it.” Peeta gestured for the beer that had just been freshly poured. The bartender took a quick look at the man who’d originally asked for it, who in turn sized up Peeta before shaking his head and walking away. The barkeep wisely pushed it toward him. “She belongs to me.”

“That so?” came a voice behind him.

Peeta took a long pull from beer and turned away from the other man’s surprised face. He felt a thump of excitement thrum through him as he faced the familiar voice. He’d been looking forward to this moment for—

He opened his mouth and closed it.

She was beautiful. Just as he remembered. Except one detail.

She was heavily pregnant.

“That go for both of us?” Katniss said, putting her hand on her stomach.

Well, damn.

—-

“Your family ain’t gonna like this.” Katniss took his hand and climbed into the wagon he’d haggled from a local seller. She was clumsy with child -his child- and his big hands hovered even as she settled into the worn seat. He placed her pitifully small bag into the back of the wagon before jumping next to her and taking the horse’s reins.

“I’m a grown man. No one has to like it but me.”

She was quiet as they drove away from the dusty little town she’d called home.

“Do you?”

He looked at her.

“D’you like it?” she repeated. Then Katniss looked away. “Never mind.” Her voice was a low mutter. “Was a stupid question. I know you don’t like it. No man would. I’m just…I shouldn’t have left with you. If I’d had the luxury of pride, I’d have said no!” She looked at him with defensive grey eyes. “You-”

“Katniss.”

She stopped talking.

He kept his eyes straight on the path ahead as he spoke. “Didn’t think I could have kids. Never thought about it, ‘specially with the life I lived. But now I’m just a rancher. But it’s a good living. Got a lot of space for a kid to run around. Yeah. Never thought about it before, but…now I’m thinkin’ about it. And I’m thinkin’ I like it.”

Her small hands crept to her stomach. Peeta smiled and flicked the reins.

They moved forward and onward, together.

—

Thank you for reading Shoot First; also known as The One Where He Can Handle a Gun But Doesn’t Know When to Blow His Load. :)

#im not an old west expert obviously but i tried #for gunslinger peeta reasons #everlark #fanfiction #hunger games #ficlet #happy Labor Day

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