#this page is so old i’ll post my newer ones here eventually i promise

[rona-eser]

K4K (knight 4 knight)

[love-fireflysong]

Day 18: Photo

Fandom: Until Dawn Character(s): Chris Hartley, Josh Washington, Ashley Brown Words: 1962 Rating: Teen (language bitches!) Author’s Notes: *Nickelback’s ‘Photograph’ plays in the background* Still alive over here! And it’s not angst this time! Amazing, I know. Big reason this one is so late is because after spending 3 days thinking about what to do for this, I still had nothing. And then I inspiration came to me in the shower so here we are: the follow-up to Deals and Arguments that probably no one wanted! Because lets be honest, if Ash is the one who writes ‘Ashley Hartley’ in her books, then Chris absolutely scribbled a heart with their initials by accident once. And that’s all it takes for Josh...

For almost as long as Chris had known him, Josh had always been obsessed with the idea. He wants to say that it started when they were in fifth grade, when their teacher, Ms. Franks, announced to the class that since she was pregnant, that she was going to be taking a leave of absence just before the end of the school year. Someone, he couldn’t recall who, had asked if they had a name for the baby picked out, but he could recall the response as though it had happened only yesterday.

“It’s still a little too early for names, but if they’re gonna be a girl, we’re thinking of naming her after a mutual best friend of ours.”

Ever since then, Josh had been all over the idea. Every dare, every piece of blackmail, every ‘dying’ wish was the same: “Name your kid Josh.” When he was younger, Chris would laugh and shove Josh away with a roll of his eyes. It was funny back when he was like ten or eleven, or hell, even when he was thirteen! He was gonna be a super cool app developer, he wasn’t gonna have time for marriage, much less kids. All of his time was gonna be spent developing super awesome games and apps that were gonna save the world! Or something. 

While his mind didn’t exactly change the moment he met Ashley the summer after he turned thirteen, he is ashamed to admit it was pretty dang close. Josh introduced Ash to him in their favorite fast food diner, and declared the three of them to be best friends, til death do us part, yada yada yada. At the end of July, the three of them were inseparable, and by the beginning of school that September, he was gone. Donezo baby! Head-over-fucking-heels for the little braces wearing, red-head that read Sherlock Holmes and Shakespeare for fun.

And unsurprisingly, Josh never let up on his demand. Nope, he did not! In fact, he got even worse about it. 

He needed to borrow a pencil for math? Name your kid after me. 

Can he spot him a couple of bucks for ice cream? Only if you name your kid Josh. 

When did the Battle of the Alamo take place? 1846. But I’ll tell you the right answer if you swear to name your first-born after me. 

While extremely exhausting to try and avoid, Chris was able to do so easily. He just started asking the kid who sat behind him in class for pencils, borrowed money from Ash instead, and he’d rather fail history then name his kid after Josh. Thankfully, after his first bombed history exam, Ash made all three of them do their homework together constantly, so the last one became a moot point. Barely.

Eventually, Josh tapered off on the demand, but not until after the start of the next school year. Most people probably would have stopped a few weeks in, but most people weren’t Josh Washington. When he wanted something, the guy stuck to his guns and didn’t give it up for nothing. Not that he stopped entirely of course, Josh still brings it up during dares and shit but it becomes immensely more manageable. He notices that he doesn’t ask it of Ash during these game, but when he considers the completely mortified look she gets on her face when ever he gets asked, Chris figures that its probably for the best.

(The fact that he not only stops that day Chris walked back into Ash’s bedroom and she’s as red as her hair while shoving something into her desk drawer, but that’s also when the mortification starts, he doesn’t clue into until years later.)

So when Josh walks up to him during their first period together with the absolute shittiest of shit-eating grins on his face, Chris is on red high alert.

“Oh no. What did you do?”

The laugh Josh gives is low and dark, and if Chris’s hackles weren’t raised earlier, they sure as fucking-hell are now. “Oh no, Cochise. It’s not what I’ve done, it’s what you’ve done.” With that, Josh proceeds to just slam a binder onto Chris’s desk, and he looks to see that he recognizes it easily.

“Okay...? I don’t see what my math notes have to do with anything.”

Another laugh, this one somehow darker and eviler then the first. Oh boy, those alarms going off in his head aren’t getting any quieter. “Oh, it has absolutely everything to do with you.” Before Chris can even respond, Josh is already flipping through the pages, past older pieces of loose-leaf that ripped from the binder coils that he hadn’t bothered to repair and and the newer notes with their edges still intact, and stops at the most recent. At first Chris doesn’t see anything, it’s all his notes about logarithms that he had taken the previous day, blue ink scratchy and messy all across the page, and then he does. And he absolutely blanches at the sight and hurriedly slams the binder shut, putting his face in his arms as he covers his head, actually whimpering as he refuses to look at Josh.

He doesn’t have to look to see the triumphant grin on Josh’s face, he can already imagine it pretty clearly. 

“Oh fuck me.”

The worst part is that he didn’t even know it was there in the first place, he never would have lent his notes out otherwise. Josh had been missing more and more school recently, claiming that he was having killer headaches and they were making him sick, so Chris had done what friends do for each other and lent him his notes. What he didn’t realize was that at some point when he had been taking notes down, he had drawn a little heart in the margins with the initials CH+AB inside. Something he never would have done if Josh had been there with him, but he hadn’t been, so Chris had zoned out thinking about meeting up with Ash after school to bring Josh his homework.

He was so dead.

“What do you want?” Though muffled through his arms, he cringed at how small and weak his voice came out.

God, he could hear the stupid grin in Josh’s voice when he answered. “You know exactly what I want, Cochise. What I’ve always wanted.”

Chris didn’t remove his head from his arms on the desk, but he did turn it enough to narrow his eyes at Josh. “Are you fucking serious dude? Really? You’re still on about that shit?”

“I will never stop. You know this to be true.”

“I am not naming my stupid kid after you! I mean, maybe I won’t ever have kids. I’m certainly not gonna if I have to name them Josh!”

Josh rolled his eyes, but the wide grin never left his face. “You don’t have to name all of them after me. Just one.” Somehow, Chris watched the grin get even wider as a thought came to him. “Maybe two, if they’re twins. Can you imagine? The twins, Joshua and Joshlynn, it’ll be great!”

“Okay, now I’m definitely never having kids.”

Josh gave a short bark of laughter. "Please, like that’s ever gonna happen. You wanna know why, Cochise? Cause if Ash is gonna want kids, then you’re gonna want kids.”

He couldn’t help it. He really, truly couldn’t help it. The image of little kids with bright red hair and glasses flashed through his mind unbidden, and he groaned loudly and put his face back into his arms to hide how red his face had gotten.

“Anything else, dude. Make me do anything else. I will strip and run through the entire school naked if you want, just don’t make me promise you this stupid shit.” God, if only he hadn’t drawn that stupid heart on his stupid notes, then none of this would be happening right now! He sat up in his seat at the revelation. “Wait. I can just rewrite the page and burn this one.”

“Oh, Chris Chris Chris.” They way Josh shakes his head in disappointment sends around a million different alarm bells ringing. “Do you really think that little of me? I took like a million pictures my dude. This shit is saved forever. I can send this to Ash whenever the fuck I want. I can post this on whatever social media I feel like and it will live on the internet forever, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Oh. Right. Shit. “I can’t believe that you can literally blackmail me with anything right now, and this is the hill you’re dying on.”

“So are we in agreement then?”

“I cannot believe I’m saying this, but yes. Fine. I will name my stupid kid after your stupid ass.”

“Oh please. Your kid may be stupid, but there is no way that any kid of Ashley’s is gonna be.”

“...I hate you so much right now.”

--------------------------------------------------

Chris hadn’t meant to respond the way he did when he found the old notebook he had bought for Ash years ago. He really hadn’t. He had just been excited to find out that she had kept the stupid thing after all these years, he hadn’t even been joking when he told her that he had spent ages in the store looking for it. (”It has to be perfect, Mom! I can’t just buy her any stupid old journal, she loves these things! I mean, what if she hates it?”) So he had opened it and started flipping through the pages, laughing with her at all the stupid misspellings and bad grammar that her thirteen year-old self had written.

And then he reached the last page.

Things had really been out of his hands at that point. Something about seeing her writing her name down as ‘Ashley Hartley’ had just ignited something in him. The images of her walking down an aisle, of them with matching rings on their fingers, of kids running underfoot, was too much for him to handle. So Chris had kissed her. Kissed her like he was never gonna be able to do it again. Them falling onto her bed had been an accident, though a happy one, as they both didn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss.

Finally, he had pulled away and her giggle when she moved to fix his glasses had taken his breath away. It had quickly returned when his eyesight improved enough to really take in the image of Ash flushed pink with her red hair spread out under her on the bed, and he was suddenly reminded that she was going to be living with him soon! That this was a sight he was going to be waking up to every morning at the end of the month, and he had never wanted anything so bad in his life.

“So,” his voice is rougher than usual when he speaks and he can feel her shiver under him at it. He makes a note for future reference. “Ashley Hartley, huh?” 

He watches her bite her lip, and it takes everything in him to not kiss her again. Two years in, and he’s still amazed that he’s allowed to kiss her whenever he wants, that she encourages it even! “Be honest with me,” she starts off and Chris has never been told to do something so easy in his life, “what do you think of the name Joshlynn?”

He stares at her for just a moment, just letting her words sink in, and then falls forward to smother himself in her hair, his shoulders shaking he’s laughing so hard. Of course. Of fucking course he did.

“So he got you too, I see.”  

[garyofrivia]

For They Shall Be Satisfied

Arthur Morgan x OC


Chapter 4

(masterlist in bio)

A/N: boy howdy, it’s been a minute on this one, huh? i’ve decided to not post this on AO3 anymore due to incredible typos and posting issues that i ran into. also, if you want to check out the other chapters, check my bio/page for the masterlist! i’m pretty sure tumblr is still weird with links in posts so this is likely how i’m going to handle chapter postings from now on. thanks to whoever reads, feel free to lmk what you think! i want to keep this one going for as long as i can... hopefully. Annie is a special one. enjoy <3

Warnings/Categories: Violence, Blood; Angst

(WC: 6,037)

“You boys ready to ride tonight?” Dutch boomed as he slung his saddle over The Count’s back. Annie looked up as she combed out Nero’s tail, studying Dutch as he worked.

“Aye, aye, cap’n,” Davey said, raising his hand in a mock salute while Mac giggled at his brother’s antics. Dutch just winked at the pair of them and carried on with his business.

 Annie and the rest of the gunmen stood around talking for a while, double and triple checking their guns and ammo as they waited for the sun to sink down over the horizon. The temperature would surely drop once night fell, so she slipped on her dark jacket over a black shirt. Even on a ridge, her dark outfit would help her blend into her surroundings once the sun went down. 

They decided to go with the original idea: three groups with three lookouts ready to raise the alarm at any sign of danger. They were to meet Benson and his men at the crossroads and head to the ambush site together. It was strange, being so uneasy about the plan. It was her idea, sure, but it wasn’t a good idea to move on it at all. The sunset caught her eye for a moment, all the orangey-red colors erupting over the Earth as a moment of clarity came over her. She couldn’t be distracted if she wanted this to turn out well. It was a silent promise she made to herself. 

“It’s more beautiful that I’ve seen in a while,” Charles said, joining her at her side as she gazed at the horizon.

“Yeah, I haven’t seen it this red in quite some time.” Annie said, glancing at him as she absentmindedly adjusted the buckles on her saddlebags.

“Supposedly that means we’ll be getting good weather soon.”

“Good weather? Here? That’s likely.”

Charles chuckled lightly and returned his attention to oiling his gun. Annie caught Arthur’s eye as he was saddling Boadicea, strapping the girth as tight as he could. He hadn’t said much to her outside of hesitantly discussing details for the job. He glanced at Charles as he stalked away, and then back at Annie with a new look of tension in his eyes. She watched him angrily jam the buckle into place on his saddle and begin to adjust the rest of his gear. 

“You good, Morgan?” she called.

He didn’t look up to meet her eyes. “Yep. You?”

“Yep.”

“Great.”

Annie nodded and hid a sly smile. Whatever he was upset about, it was something trivial for sure. He wasn’t one to keep his opinions to himself unless it meant he knew it was about  something foolish. Not wanting to jump to conclusions, she bit her tongue as she thought of ways she could eventually confront him about his sour mood as of late. 

“What are you laughin’ at, Princess?” Micah drawled, making Annie’s skin crawl.

“I caught a glimpse of your ugly damn face,” she said, eliciting a snicker or two in the background. “Couldn’t quite help myself.”

“Yeah, ha-ha, very funny. You’ll be thinkin’ about my face tonight in your dreams… amongst other things.”

Sean and Charles snapped their heads up in horror to watch what would happen next, but Annie simply chuckled. “You’re right! I’ll be dreamin’ about your face and how twisted it’ll look when I’m skinnin’ you alive.”

Micah laughed. “You’re a little firecracker, ain’t you?”

“Micah,” Dutch warned. “You keep provoking her like that, I’ll be tempted to cut her loose on you.”

Annie tauntingly snapped her teeth at him as he stalked away to finish readying up. Dutch shot her a knowing smile and she just shrugged. Even though he was newer to the gang, it was a common thing for Micah to let his mouth run longer than anyone wanted to hear it, especially if it was directed toward Lenny, Charles or any of the women. Annie enjoyed putting him in his place, though admittedly, he figured out how to push her buttons fairly quickly. It was almost admirable. 

By the time the gang had shared cigarettes and a small bite to eat, it was dusk and Dutch called for them to mount up. As they took formation to ride off, Annie nodded to Karen who winked and cocked her shotgun to assume her place guarding camp. “Come back safe, y’all!” 

“Men! Let’s ride!” Dutch bellowed and spurred The Count to a gallop and the wild faces of the Van der Linde Gang cheered and took off after him.  

The thunder of thirteen horses racing across the plains would have been a fearsome sight to anyone. The ground trembled as they moved swiftly up the road in a tight two-by-two formation with Dutch at the head, Hosea and Arthur just behind him, and John and Annie taking up the rear. The rendezvous point was about a forty-minute ride north, though, it felt longer with the building anxiety in the air, no matter how hard Annie tried to ignore it. Arthur and Dutch began exchanging words up ahead, slowing the pace to a steady jog as they neared the location. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but 

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” John mumbled, low enough for only her to hear. 

“Yeah,” she said, glancing over to meet his fickle eyes. “Me too. I… Let’s just get it over with.”

John looked nervous, but he nodded in agreement all the same. For a moment, she swore she saw Jack’s face flash before her. John had to stay safe for his son’s sake, if not his own.

Their posse moved at a steady pace down the road and with a glance around at the surrounding landscape, Annie knew they were getting close. Eventually, she heard a familiar whistle from up front. The riders slowed as Benson and a few of his men came into view just ahead on horseback. 

“Hello, gentlemen,” Dutch said, riding up next to them.

“Mister Kilgore, so nice to see you again!” Benson said. 

“I believe we can be straight with each other now, Mister Benson,” Dutch said, sliding down from The Count.

Benson sighed, resigning himself to the failure of his ruse. “Yes, I agree, Mister Van der Linde. I trust we can count on each other’s discretion.”

“Glad to see we have an understanding, then.”

“Certainly. Shall we proceed?”

“Of course.”

Annie was surprised to see that he only had three men with him. Though, that’s most likely why his “employer” was seeking the help of outlaws. He tensed when he recognized her, but he managed to smile politely. She tipped her hat and smirked, subtly reminding him that he was outnumbered if he felt the need to try anything.

Dutch confirmed the details of their plan and the diversion with Benson. There was an old abandoned house a few hundred yards off the road from where they would launch the ambush. Benson’s men would blow it up and make sure it caught fire to catch the attention of the escorts that were now all suspected to be lawmen. 

“Lawmen?” Dutch asked suspiciously. “All of them?”

“We have scouts along the route,” Benson said. “In Van Horne, they traded their hired guns for deputies. Not to worry, this shouldn’t change a thing. In fact, we can use this to our advantage. Deputies will be more inclined to answer a call for help along their journey. It will work.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that it’ll work,” Dutch said. “I’m sure everything will go according to plan.”

“Indeed, Mister Van der Linde, it shall.”

“What my friend here is too polite to say,” Annie said and cleared her throat, drawing everyone’s attention to her, “is that if it don’t go according to plan, you’ll be the first one we come lookin’ for.”

Dutch turned back to Benson and clapped him on the shoulder. “She’s right, I am too polite to say it. But we have… an understanding. So surely that is not a situation that we will come across.” 

Benson avoided her eyes and cleared his throat. “I assure you, I anticipate this to go off without a hitch. I know you all to be true to your word.”

Dutch laughed and mounted his horse. “Yes, that we are, my friend. Let’s get this show on the road, then! Shall we?”

“Alright, everyone split off,” Arthur said. “Mac, Bill, Hosea, Javier you’re with me. John, Lenny, and Davey, you’ll go with Dutch and Charles, Sean, and Micah are with Annie.”

“Cream of the crop,” Micah grumbled to himself but loud enough for everyone to hear. Annie glared at him as he rode over to join her, Sean and Charles not far behind. “Who organized these damn groups, anyways?”

“I did,” Annie deadpanned. She wanted to keep an eye on the loose cannon of the crew and Hosea had been more than happy to let her take that responsibility.

“Aw, you really are sweet on me, ain’t ya?” he winked at her.

Charles groaned and Sean chuckled. “Last person she’d be sweet on is you, ya ol’ sack o’ shit.”

Annie chuckled quietly. She always had a fondness for Sean and his lack of a social filter. Silently, she motioned for her counterparts to follow and started off to the top of the northernmost hill.

“Watch for Hosea’s signal,” Annie said. They could see the silhouettes of the men on the opposite ridge illuminated in the moonlight, one of them waving. She waved back to confirm they were in view.

“This could take a while,” Sean groaned.

“Yes, and you’d do well to keep quiet,” Charles said. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Ambush, or whatever. That Benson fella seems a bit curious, don’t ya think?” 

“Shut up, Sean,” Annie said. 

“I’m jus’ sayin’.”

“Hmm, I agree,” Charles added. “He was a bit fidgety. This could turn out to be more than it seems.”

“I’m countin’ on it,” Annie mumbled. 

“That why it took so damn long for you fools to jump on this thing?” Micah asked.

“Shut your damn mouth and focus, idiot,” she snapped, shooting him a glare that could kill. 

They finally fell silent and Annie turned her attention to the horizon where the house was set to blow. Any minute, they would be coming up on the horizon...

There they are. About a mile off, she saw the first of the riders pull into view, illuminated by their lantern lights. She counted six escorts and four wagons. Hosea waved his hat and she returned the gesture and while Lenny was out of view, she prayed he saw him. 

“Here we go,” she said. “Masks up.”

“Oh, I’m fuckin’ ready,” Sean said, bouncing in his saddle. 

Waiting for them to get in range seemed as if it took forever. Annie’s heart quickened with each passing moment, filling her with anxiety where there’d usually be adrenaline. The seconds ticked by excruciatingly slow, yet so incredibly fast. She could feel the tidal wave of chaos building and building, waiting to crash down into the gully at any second. 

Hosea and he gave the first signal to Benson’s men, waving his white handkerchief. Within a few seconds, there was a massive explosion on the ridge behind him. The fire was quick to start, illuminating their silhouettes against the night sky with a haunting orange glow. Annie heard voices, Benson’s men, calling for “help”. The caravan stopped in its tracks and all but one rider took off immediately. She was almost shocked that it worked.

Hosea waved the rag in the air once more. Show time. 

Annie sucked in a breath. “You’re up, boys. Get goin’.”

Micah, Sean, and Charles raced down the hill to meet the rest of their Van der Linde counterparts and Annie whipped out her sniper rifle. She’d removed the scope since it would just limit her visibility in the darkness of the new moon - It’s a trick she learned while hunting at night, even though it was far more difficult to hit a shot without the proper sights for most everyone. But she wasn’t most everyone.

The fire in the background illuminated the scene ever so slightly as the horizon glowed like an inferno. She scanned the terrain, alternating between her binoculars and bare eyes, looking for any sign of movement. They were clear for now, so long as they worked fast. 

She kept on looking up and down the road and back at the gang. At the hills. Towards the horizon. Nothing. It seemed too good to be true. Surely someone would have heard the blast and would come to investigate. How much time had passed? It felt like it’d been an eternity.

The sound of snapping twigs behind her nearly made her jump out of her own skin. She whipped around, frantically shoving the bolt action of the rifle into place and bringing her grip up to aim.

“Who’s there?” she demanded a bit too loudly.

“Don’t shoot,” a familiar voice said softly. 

“What the hell?” Madelyn. 

The girl stepped into view from behind a tree. Her hands were raised in surrender and her fingers were trembling in fear. Even though Annie could barely see her face, it was certain that she was terrified out of her mind. 

“Give me one goddamn reason I shouldn’t shoot you right here,” Annie threatened in a low voice.

“They’re comin’. The O’Driscolls, t-they know about the job.”

“What?”

“They… took me… and I-I was-. They’re comin’. You gotta get outta here. They wanna kill the lot of ya.”

“Why should I listen to you?”

She seemed exasperated and desperate as she spoke.“Why the hell else would I come up to you like this? I ain’t got no gun. I’m just tryin’a help.”

Annie thought for a split second. She was right, but nevertheless. this could be a ploy. Though, then there’d be no way Colm would ever pass up an opportunity for 10,000 dollars to risk sending someone to warn them as a distraction.

Annie made a split second decision, one that likely saved the lives of everyone in the Van Der Linde gang that night. She barely noticed Madelyn flinch as she swiftly traded her rifle for her revolver. She turned her aim to the sky and fired three times. She turned toward the road to make sure the boys were preparing to make their escape.

When a few moments passed, her stomach started to churn. No one was leaving. She heard someone shout but couldn’t make out who or what they said. She looked up to where Hosea should have been, but he was sprinting down the hill on horseback. She jumped into action, leaving Madelyn in the dust.

“What the hell is going on?” She heard Hosea yell as she rode up. “You heard the signal! We need to move!”

“We’re almost… finished,” Dutch panted as he slung the first saddlebag full of cash onto his shoulder. 

“What is it, Annie?” Charles asked uneasily. “Why’d you sound it off?”

“It’s Colm,” she breathed. She could hear her own heart pounding in her ears. “He’s here.”

“Goddamnit!” Arthur cursed, kicking the wheel of a wagon. “That English bastard set us up.” “You seen ‘em yourself?” Micah said.

“That girl from the saloon found us and warned me. We gotta get outta here, now.”

“Annie, you can’t be serious,” Dutch said.

“Dutch, we don’t have time for this,” Annie said. “Why would she risk tellin’ me if it weren’t honest?”

“We stick to the plan,” Hosea declared, before Dutch could protest. “Split up everyone, and meet back at camp. C’mon!” He kicked his horse to a sprint. Lenny immediately followed, while Charles, Davey, and Mac swung up on their horses and chased after them. Javier hesitated, looking between them and Dutch, but eventually decided to take off.

“Damn it! We were so close,” Dutch said. He went to swing the saddlebag over his horse’s back, but a shot suddenly rang out through the pass. The bag exploded next to Dutch’s head, sending cash and coins flying in every direction. The Count reared, neighing loudly. Nero, as steady as he usually was, had also been spooked and started to pace. Annie tried to calm him as she turned and saw a horde indistinguishable silhouettes swarming the road from the west. 

“Go, get outta here! Now!” Annie cried.

The remaining members of the gang jumped onto their horse’s back and took off in the opposite direction. She glanced over her shoulder and watched as Boadicea carried Arthur down the dark road. Everyone was in the clear. Wait… Not everyone. 

Annie raced back up the hill. She didn’t know what came over her, but she knew she had to help Madelyn. If the O’Driscoll boys found her after she helped them, they’d most definitely kill her. Or worse.

She halted next to Madelyn and reached down with a steady hand. “Get on.”

“What? Why are you helping me?”

“Christ sake, get on the horse or get killed, I don’t rightly care.”

Madelyn nodded and hastily hoisted herself into the saddle behind Annie. She kicked Nero to a gallop and they started to make their retreat.

A shot rang out.

Annie cried out in pain and involuntarily kicked Nero’s side, making him skid into a sharp left turn. She toppled off his back and hit the ground with a thud, rolling clumsily to a stop, face down in the dirt. An indescribable pain overtook her body and her worst fear had been realized.

“Fuck! Fuck, I’m hit!”

Madelyn yelped and struggled to stay stop Nero’s back, but she gripped the reins so he would stop pacing nervously. “Shit! Are you okay?”

Annie ignored her and struggled to her feet, clutching her side where the bullet had torn apart her flesh - in through her back and out the other side. Warm blood was quickly soaking the inside of her shirt and started to pool where it was tucked into her pants. This ain’t good. This ain’t good, at all. She poked a finger through the hole in her jacket and groaned.

“Damn it, this is my favorite one,” she muttered. Her vision narrowed and everything suddenly seemed slower as the adrenaline started to kick in. 

“What do we do?” 

“You know how to ride a horse?”

“Y-yes.”

“Help me up, then.”

Maddie shifted her position into the saddle and held out a hand for Annie. She sucked in a breath and lifted herself onto her horse’s back, grunting as she held back a scream of agony. Her abdominal muscles were shredded just below her rib cage and she silently prayed that nothing important was harmed.

“Jesus Christ,” she growled through gritted teeth. They were chattering with the tension in the rest of her body, her mind getting blurrier with each wave of adrenaline being pumped through her veins. “Go that way ‘till you hit the river. Don’t stop.”

Doing as she was told, Madelyn urged Nero to a sprint and Annie clutched her side, trying to keep the bleeding to a minimum and to keep her balance on horseback without stirrups. 

She took a breath and clenched her jaw. In a flash of urgency, she turned behind her and fired in the direction of the pursuing O’Driscolls, managing to tag one on the shoulder and knock him off balance. Aiming as steadily as she could, she fired again and brought him to the ground. She snapped her sights on the next target like she was aiming down a long tunnel. All she could hear was the sound of her own gun as it went off in her hand again and again. 

BANG. BANG. Click. Reload.

Frantically, she grabbed six rounds from her belt and shoved them into the cylinder as fast as her fingers could manage. The pain - or maybe the blood loss - was blinding. Her vision was fading, slowly… and then quickly, in and out. One more shot. One more. 

One more… Another rider toppled off their horse as she found her mark.

“Keep goin’,” she grunted as Nero started to slow his pace. They’d been running for a while and he wasn’t used to carrying two passengers. 

C’mon boy. You can do it. She started to fire blindly to cover their backs, again and again. Her hands were shaky and slick with blood. Fumbling a bit more with her gun, gasping and grunting through gritted teeth, a few rounds slipped from her fingers as she reloaded. Focus. Focus, focus, focus… Feeling more and more unsteady, she gripped the saddle and tried to regain balance. 

“You alright back there? Annie?”

She shook herself to consciousness. “They still chasin’ us?”

“No, they’re gone. I think you scared ‘em off.”

Annie tried opening her eyes, but she couldn’t even lift her forehead off Madelyn’s shoulder. “Keep… goin’.”

Each stride her horse took was a dull stab of agony. The constant movement was ripping apart each attempt her body was making to stop the bleeding. She didn’t even realized she’d fallen until she slammed into the ground like a sack of grain. It was a haze. The stars in the night sky swirled around her as if she was at the bottom of a tornado, looking up into the spiraling whirlwind of chaos.

“Annie! Shit!”

“Bedroll…”

“What-.”

“Bedroll. Get it… and a shirt… in the saddlebag.”

Madelyn did as she was told and retrieved the bedroll and extra shirt. She and spread the roll out and tried to help her move on top of it, but she swatted her hands away. Grunting, Annie took out her hunting knife and managed to cut out a long strip of the padded canvas, slicing it in half, working with her eyes half open and her whole world spinning.

“I can do this,” Madelyn said, trying to take the knife from her.

“No just-,” Annie groaned. “Help me patch it up.”

The blood on her black shirt made it look like an oil slick, as if she was an automobile leaking fuel. Maddie lifted it and there was a flood of red. It stuck to her fingers like tree sap, thickening every time she touched the fresher blood that oozed from the wound. She carefully placed the canvas padding on the dime sized opening in Annie’s abdomen. It was a scary thing that something so small could cause so much trouble.

“I’m going to roll over,” Annie mumbled, “and you need to get the other one on my back.”

Madelyn nodded and gulped, her hands shaking uncontrollably. She inhaled sharply and heaved herself off the ground, crying out as her weight shifted. Maddie helped her shed her jacket and pressed the second square into place, holding them together as if Annie would crumble into pieces if she let go.

“The shirt…” She tried to speak, but Madelyn was already tying the patches in place with by the sleeves. Annie had lost so much blood already, that she was starting to see in distorted colors. Red. So much red. It consumed everything, as if the earth had been swallowed by it. She knew she didn’t have long.

“Go on, get out of here,” Annie breathed. “I can’t…”

“No, no, no, we didn’t spend all that time patchin’ you up just for you to give up.”

“You can’t... lift me.”

“You’re gonna have to help me, then. C’mon.” She put Annie’s arm over her shoulders and snaked her own around her waist, careful to not put pressure on the patches. “One, two, three!”

Annie cried out as she stood, unable to form a coherent, thought let alone see anything beyond a few inches in front of her own face. Another round of adrenaline must have kicked in and she somehow made it onto the saddle, grasping onto the horn for dear life. Madelyn mounted behind her and put her arms around Annie, holding the reins out in front in case she fell again. She put her feet in the stirrups and peered over Annie’s shoulder, getting a clear view of the path ahead.

“Stay awake now, ya hear?”

Annie struggled against entering into a state of delirium. Trying to ground herself in reality, she realized something was missing… My hat! She groaned and let her head fall back against Madelyn’s shoulder. Madelyn… How kind…

“Annie! C’mon, stay with me.”

Annie ignored her panicked voice and said the only thing that came to mind. “Your name ain’t really ‘Madelyn’, is it?”

“No. It ain’t”

“What is it… then?”

“Jenny. Jenny Kirk.”

***

Arthur tapped his foot in anticipation as Dutch paced between the fire and the camp entrance. After everyone had split up, all but Charles, Javier, and Annie had made it back safe. It was risky returning to camp this early after a job gone bad, but they hadn’t been followed. Arthur figured that must have been what was holding up the rest of them.  

“Damn it, Dutch, we had a plan,” Hosea said as he massaged his temple. “Why’d you pull that shit back there?”

“Pull what exactly, Hosea?” Dutch said, whipping around to face him. Arthur had been listening to them go at it since they returned. “You need to calm down, my friend. Everyone here is capable of handling themselves.”

“Dutch, he’s right,” Arthur interjected. “We knew Benson wasn’t trustworthy. It ain’t a matter of how well we can handle ourselves, cause that wasn’t no gunfight. It was a setup, plain as day.”

Dutch shook his head. “We needed that money, boys. If you’re not prepared to take a little risk for that, then I don’t know what to tell you!” 

“It already was a risk!” Hosea said, exasperated. “That’s why we needed to stick to the plan.”

Dutch threw his arms up in defeat. “Well, it failed anyways, so why are we still arguin’ about this?”

The rest of the camp had gathered outside their tents to see what all the commotion was about. “What happened, Arthur?” Mary-Beth asked, pulling his attention away from the two men arguing. 

“Just a job gone bad.”

“So no money?” Karen asked. 

“Only a bit. Not nearly as much as we were countin’ on.”

Tilly joined them. “Have y’all seen Charles yet? Or Javier and Annie?”

Arthur looked through the trees and caught a glimpse of the empty road. “Not yet.”

“I hope they’re alright,” Mary-Beth said.

“I’m sure everything’s fine, Mary-Beth,” Tilly assured her, but her voice wavered enough for Arthur to tell she wasn’t entirely sure of her own words. 

Just ask she said it, two riders appeared on the road and made their way through the trees. Charles and Javier. 

“Boys!” Dutch called. “Good to see you back.”

“Sorry we’re the last ones to the party,” Javier said. 

There was a pause and the air grew tense. 

“You mean Annie ain’t with you two?” Karen said.

“No,” Charles said. “She’s not back yet?”

“We ain’t seen her, but I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Dutch said.

“That’s it, I’m goin’ after her,” Arthur stated, starting for his horse.

“Are you jokin’?” Dutch said, raising an eyebrow and stopping Arthur in his tracks. “O’Driscolls and lawmen are crawling all over these parts.”

“She’d do it for one of us,” Charles said. He nodded at Arthur. “I’ll go with you.”

“No, no, I need you both here,” Dutch said. 

“He’s right, boys,” Hosea said. Arthur glared at him. “We can’t risk any other wild adventures tonight. She’s capable, she’ll make it back in one piece.”

Arthur let out a sharp exhale and eyed the two of them, unable to think through his own rage. Annie was capable, sure, but this didn’t feel right. Dutch had screwed her, screwed them all. He told them to keep on with the robbery when she gave the signal. If they’d just listened to her signal...

The energy of the camp rippled, voices murmuring around Arthur, wondering where Annie had gone. The atmosphere was growing thicker with tension and the anxiety welling in his chest made it so he could hardly breath. He couldn’t take it anymore. Just as he turned away to get some air, he saw something down the hill, across the river. A single black horse with two riders. Holy shit…

“Hello?” a small, female voice called out, just barely over the sound of the rapids upstream. 

“Who’s that?” Dutch bellowed as Charles drew his rifle to his shoulder.

“It’s Nero…” Hosea said, his voice flooded with concern.

Arthur ran over to the ridge to get a clearer look. The black stallion was breathing heavily, glistening in sweat as he bowed his head in exhaustion. 

“M-my name’s Jenny. Annie’s here with me, but she’s hurt real bad.”

“No, Arthur, wait!” Dutch said, trying to grab Arthur’s shoulder as he rushed forward. He shook the hand off and took off down the hill to the riverbank. 

“Can you get him across?” he said, trying his best to hide the dread in his voice as he saw the limp body, slumped against the stranger’s chest.

Nero didn’t hesitate as he crossed the water, even though it was somewhat deep. The horse plowed through the flowing water and onto shore, almost as smoothly as if he was on land.

Annie was unconscious and the blood on her shirt glistened in the dim light of the distant campfire. Her face was white as a sheet and covered in a cold sweat. “Charles! Could use your help here!” 

He heard Hosea call Grimshaw for assistance as John and Charles came rushing down the hill. They took in the sight of the wounded woman, speechless. 

“Arthur?” Annie murmured, reaching out her hand to touch what she didn’t think could be real. “That you?”

“It’s me, alright.” He took her bloody fingers in his hand and squeezed. 

“Damn it, I’ve died and gone to hell,” Annie said, a hint of a mischievous smirk on her face. 

He smiled and shook his head. “No, not quite yet, Annie girl.” 

Even though she was dressed in black, the slick stain of blood covered most of the right side of her body, from her ribcage to her thighs. Streaks of red matted stray hairs against her forehead, mixed with the tear marks on her cheeks and the sweat on her neck. He wanted to say he’d seen worse, and he probably had. But this, for some reason, shook him to the core. 

He lifted her off the back of the horse and cradled her in his arms. She wasn’t light and his front was now soaked in blood, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Charles, hitch her horse at the posts, make sure he’s watered.”

“What about her?” John asked, gesturing to Jenny who was covered in blood herself.

“You, Miss Jenny, are with us now,” Dutch said, walking down to join them on the riverbank. “Go wash up, Miss Jones here will help you. You can have Annie’s spot until we find you a place.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jenny said with a breath of relief.

“‘Sir’ was my father,” he said. “You can call me Dutch.”

Arthur brought Annie up the hill as most of the camp watched. She was drifting in and out of consciousness, but at least she was alive. He gently laid her down on his own cot, making sure she was comfortable. She winced and her eyes fluttered open slightly.

“Step back, Arthur,” Grimshaw said, pushing her way into the small area, fresh bandages in hand. She replaced the bedroll patches slowly but securely, cleaning the wounds with what Arthur figured was gin as she worked.

“Ahh!” Annie yelped as the alcohol splashed into the open wound. “Huh. Nice to see you, Susan.”

“You too Annie, you lucky, lucky girl,” Grimshaw said. “Can I use your jacket, Mister Morgan? And will you give us some privacy?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” He said, shedding his coat and handing it over and turning away as Grimshaw carefully removed Annie’s tattered and stained shirt. She covered her so that only she could see as she wiped away the blood from the wounds with a wet cloth.

“Tilly, can you get one of Miss Bolton’s shirts from her things, preferably a light one?”

“Is she gonna be okay, Miss Grimshaw?” Mary-Beth asked with a look of horror on her face.

“Yes, Mary-Beth, she’s gonna be just fine.”

He saw her nod and bring a hand to her mouth, holding back a sob. The rest of camp was watching, but keeping their distance. He saw John say something to Abigail as she tried to walk over to help. She protested for a moment, but he pulled her into a small hug and shuffled her and Jack back into their tent. The suspense had settled since she was back and more or less in one piece, but Arthur’s own fists were clenched with anxiety. 

“Arthur,” Dutch called, snapping his attention away from the scene. He and Hosea were standing back, trying to keep everyone from crowding around the lean-to. 

Arthur sighed with frustration and walked over. “What is it, Dutch?”

“You alright, son?” Hosea asked. 

“Yep.”

“Arthur…” Dutch said, studying him.

“I’m good.”

“She’s gonna pull through.”

“Yeah, I know.” The shakiness of his voice was hard to disguise. “She knew it was a damn trap, too.”

Hosea furrowed his eyebrows, giving him concerned look he hadn’t gotten in a while. “We can get you a bedroll. You can sleep in the-.”

“I’m good,” he said, cutting him off. “I got the chair.”

“Arthur-,” Dutch started.

“I know what my goddamn name is, Dutch, quit sayin’ it,” he snapped.

Dutch sighed and raised an eyebrow. “I was just gonna tell you to keep an eye on her for the night. That’s all. Make sure you get some rest.”

Arthur sighed and ran a hand through his hair, lifting his hat slightly. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Dutch squeezed his shoulder and sent him back to Annie’s bedside. Grimshaw finished with the buttons on the fresh shirt and stepped back.

“I can keep an eye on her, Miss Grimshaw.”

“Thank you, Arthur. When you can, try to get her on her side, she won’t listen to me. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Of course,” he said. He suddenly recognized the white button up Annie now had on. “Hey, is that my shirt?”

“Yes,” Tilly said as she balled up a few bloodied rags to be washed. “I couldn’t find any clean light ones of hers, I’m sorry.”

He shook his head and forced a small smile. “No, Tilly, it’s fine. Thanks. Get some sleep, I’ll take it from here.”

Tilly nodded and took her leave. Arthur turned back to Annie, hesitantly. Her eyes were closed but she had a slight grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. He reached down to the end of the bed and pulled the thin wool blanket up to her shoulders.

“They put me in your shirt?” she mumbled, eyes still closed. “You’ll have to burn it now, surely.”

“Do you ever stop jokin’?”

“Only when there’s nothin’ to joke about.”

Arthur chuckled. When this had happened before, she almost didn’t make it. It was terrifying to watch her fight against seemingly unbeatable odds. But nevertheless, she fought hard and won. He feared she wouldn’t be so lucky this time around. He felt a sudden urge to take her hand. Like his, it was calloused and rough, but smaller and somehow more delicate. He held it gently and she absentmindedly squeezed one of his fingers. 

She met his gaze and for a moment, Arthur saw the same sadness reflected in her cloudy, hazel eyes that had always been in his own. In a strange way, it was comforting to him. To know that he was just as afraid as she was, to know that the path ahead of her could prove to be treacherous. It meant she still was still breathing, her heart still pumping. It meant she had a chance. In that moment, somehow, they both knew everything would be okay. 

“Get some rest,” he whispered.

She grinned and her eyes blinked closed. “I’ll rest when I’m dead.”

[simplyshelbs16xoxo]

Delayed Love

Post-TFP. It's Sherlock's birthday, nearly a year since the phone call. Molly's finally ready to open her heart to him again, surprising Sherlock.

I wrote this originally for the Sherlock birthday celebration, but I actually hated this fic at the time for some reason. Now, I love it, and so, I decided to post it.

               Freshly baked ginger nuts? Check. Birthday gift? Check. Fireplace lit? Check. Molly Hooper used her key to 221B to set up everything. It was Sherlock’s birthday and he had been away on a case for nearly a week. She hated that it took her this long to get to this point, but they had both needed time after the events that transpired at Sherrinford. Well, her more than him, surprisingly. She hated how it had hurt him that she wasn’t as enthusiastic about a relationship as he was. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be with him, but she was terrified. Molly never thought there was a chance, and once it was possible, she had no idea what to do with it…

               The first few months after the phone call, Sherlock and Molly had both agreed to work on their friendship, rebuilding it from the ground up. They became closer than ever. They were best friends and completely inseparable. They both knew the truth of each other’s hearts, resulting in cheek kisses that lingered a bit longer than usual. Sherlock had decided to go back to rehab to clean himself up for good and he continued to communicate with Eurus through music. He spent time with his family, all of them slowly, but surely healing together properly.

               Molly took some time for herself, spending time with Meena and doing new different things. She joined a book club, took a couple dance classes, and picked up extra shifts at Bart’s to save up for a shopping trip with Meena. She felt like adding some new things to her wardrobe as well as look for a couple of new jumpers. She could hardly look at her favourite striped one without feeling sick. Funny how that old striped jumper had good and bad memories attached to it, from her day of solving crimes with Sherlock to that damn heartbreaking phone call.

               Despite their very separate lives, weekends were reserved for each other. Late nights filled with take away or the occasional home-cooked meal, along with murder documentaries, classic films and board games. They’d sleep in the same bed. They’d cuddle. But nothing more transpired. It was a comfortable routine. There was a moment one weekend when Sherlock came out of her bathroom, freshly showered and in his pajamas, when he caught her dancing to an old Sinatra song. He had surprised her by taking her hand in his and pulled her into his arms. They danced for a long while, taking comfort in each other’s arms.

               When July rolled around, there was an awful heatwave. Molly had been wearing a pair of jean shorts and a bikini top with her hair up in a bun on top of her head. Sherlock had let himself in with the key she gave him.

               “Molly, there’s something I need to say and—“ he stopped short, his brain feeling as if it had short-circuited. He was dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt, an unusual choice for him, but the sight of Molly Hooper not covering her curves up for once sent him into buffering mode.

               “Sherlock?” she asked in concern. Following his gaze, she noticed his eyes wander over her in entirety. Feeling self-conscious, she had attempted to cover up her chest with a dish towel.

               “Don’t,” he spoke suddenly. “I apologize. What I meant was that you shouldn’t feel insecure.”

               Before really thinking, she spoke out, “I’m not compensating for size then?” It came out harsher than she wanted it to. Bad memories tended to do that to you.

               “Molly, surely by now you know I was being a jealous git. That’s not an excuse for my behaviour, merely in explanation. I never meant what I said that Christmas. You have lovely breasts,” he blushed at having said that out loud as he spoke quickly.

               “You said there was something you needed to say?” she asked, changing the subject.

               “Yes!” he exclaimed. “Molly, I—well, would you like to—“

               “Solve crimes?”

               “Have Dinner?” They spoke in unison, the roles reversed.

               “As much as I would like to, I just don’t think I’m ready, Sherlock,” Molly told him softly. “I need more time.” She watched his face fall as she unintentionally broke his heart. “Please, understand that this doesn’t change the way I feel.”

               “I understand,” he replied. He then laughed in disbelief. “Who would’ve guessed I’d be ready before you were?” A look of panic crossed his face. “I didn’t muck up our friendship, did I?”

               “No,” she assured him. “Never. You’re my best friend, no matter what.” Despite it being sticky and hot, Molly wrapped her arms around him. “I promise I’ll be ready eventually. My heart is and always will be yours, Sherlock.”

               Snapping out of her memories, Molly hoped he would be surprised for once. It took her almost a year to be ready for this...whatever it was they had. Her hair was up in a bouncy ponytail, as she had loose curls in her hair, and she wore a pair of jeans with one of her newer jumpers which was a cable knit in bubblegum pink. The key turned in the door, and she braced herself for the moment at hand.

               “Molly?” his tone was gentle, curiosity shown plainly in his eyes.

               “Happy Birthday, Sherlock,” she smiled shyly. He stepped closer to her, slowly, as if he was afraid of frightening her. Molly closed the gap between them, hugging him to her. Sherlock allowed his hands to touch her—one on the small of her back, and the other in her hair.

               “I’ve missed you so much,” he finally spoke.

               “I missed you too,” Molly replied. “I’m so sorry it took this long. I was scared and completely lost, and—”

               “I understand,” he said softly. Acting on instinct, he pressed a kiss to her temple, unwilling to let go of her. It seemed that Molly was content with staying in his arms, for she showed no signs of wanting to end it. “You made gingernuts.” She could hear his smile in his voice.

               “I also got you a gift,” Molly added, stepping out of his embrace to retrieve it. She felt so cold without him, already. “Please try not to deduce it and open the bloody thing.” She laughed nervously, as if she were having second thoughts.

               “I promise,” he smiled. Sherlock carefully unwrapped it, revealing a lovely black moleskin journal. There was an engraving in gold on the cover.

               For Sherlock.

               I hope this will be a reminder that you are loved, and more importantly, worthy of that love.

               Love, Molly xxx

               “Open it,” she encouraged him, feeling braver. He did as he was told, his lips parting slightly in surprise. Every page was filled with photos and mementos from all the years they knew each other. There were even photos of them with John, Mary, Rosie, Mrs. Hudson and Greg. His family was featured in a couple as well. There were little notes, written in Molly’s hand, about what she loved about him. He found a photo from that awful Christmas party where he practically deduced her to tears. It was a picture of himself with Molly and John. The message she wrote beneath it had him finally forgiving himself for his cruel words.

               Who you are is not what you’ve said or done. I realise now that it was jealousy that caused you to react the way you did. I forgive you, my love. It’s okay.

               “Molly, this is…” he trailed off, unable to find the words. “Thank you.” The last page was empty, but was obviously laid out in pencil. “What photo goes here?”

               “That’s for me to know and you to find out,” she smirked.

               Six months later, Sherlock was holding Molly close to him in bed. Their hands were laced together, two beautiful rings on Molly’s finger glittering in the moonlight, as well as his own ring. Though Molly was sound asleep, he was wide awake, wondering how he ended up here, with the love of his life. His eyes gazed upon the photo on his nightstand from their wedding last month. It was taken the moment they had kissed, sealing their marriage vows. Both of them were smiling, eyes crinkling on both of their faces.

               This was real. He was Molly’s husband, and she was his wife. He moved his free hand to settle over her belly. She wasn’t showing yet, but in eight months, there would be another Holmes in the world…and he couldn’t be happier. There were no more regrets of having waited so long—Molly had convinced him to just let it go and start living in the present. And it wasn’t so hard to do just that when she took his hand in hers. Sherlock Holmes was truly happy for the first time in his adult life. Meeting Molly Hooper, now Holmes, was the best thing that ever happened to him, of that he was sure.

ao3