An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Written for Mag7Week; Day1; Fall || Proposal
Pairing: Goodnight Robicheaux/Billy Rocks
Warnings: minor violence
Summary: “The day he arrives is hot, the sun in merciless, and all in all it seems that nature tries to cling to summer with all the strength it has, heating up the air and the ground, shining down on the farms, the towns, the roads, and the lone rider on one of them.”
This started out as an anatomy practice (which failed) and then I was like “why not turn this into a mag7 fanart?” So here it is.
I can’t draw wings for shit. Maybe one day I’ll try and correct it
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Written for Mag7Week; Day2; Together || Self-Sufficiency
Pairing: Billy Rocks/Original Male Character; Goodnight Robicheaux/Billy Rocks
Warnings: minor violence, minor character death
Summary: in·de·pend·ent: not dependent; not depending or contingent upon something else for existence, operation, etc.
Summary: When Goodnight is backed into an alley and forced to defend himself, he just can't. Fortunately, a stranger comes along.
So this is the first fic where I explicitely write PTSD, so it's possibly not too accurate. This pairing is still too foreign for me...
Read on AO3.
Breathing was becoming harder by the second and his hands holding up his guns were trembling. Goody felt fear taking over him, panic burning in his stomach and squeezing his windpipe, and for the love of God, he was going to faint before those two thugs shot him.
“Come on, gentlemen…” Goody tried, but he heard his own voice, nothing like its usual smoothness but a coarse, trembling imitation of it. This was so not going to work. “Let’s think it through again…”
“Shut up with that! We gonna get you! You cheated!” one of them snarled, then spat on the ground. It was only the immense fear rising in his chest that stopped Goody from rolling his eyes.
“Oh, I’m sure there is a way to settle it…” he tried, his voice trembling even worse than before and he focused on trying to keep his hands still and his guns pointed steadily on the thugs.
“It’s not ‘bout the money! It’s ‘bout respect!” the other thug added and cocked his pistol, clearly ready to shoot.
Goody knew he could get out of it. He knew he would be able to shoot both of them before they could take a breath. But he just couldn’t. Every inch of his body ran cold at the idea of murdering anyone ever again. It numbed him completely and messed up his thoughts. He was practically frozen there, with his hands holding the guns that could save him, trembling like a child and staring his end in the eye. He had always hoped for a glorious death, and not being shot to death by two idiots in an alley…
“Is there a problem?” a voice suddenly called out from behind the two thugs, and Goody, too focused on staring at the two guns, only now noticed a man standing right behind them. At his voice, the two men turned around but they were too slow. The stranger hit one of them with his free hand hard enough that he slammed into the wall of the house, dropping his gun, while his other hand drew a knife from his belt and moved towards the other, leaving a huge cut on his stomach. It was clearly meant to intimidate and not kill, because the way the stranger moved, he could have just as easily disembowel the man if he wanted to. The one that had a close encounter with the wall turned around, his nose bloody and broken, and took in the other, clutching his stomach, then looked at the stranger, completely frightened.
“Do you wish to die? Or was this enough?” the man asked curtly and his free hand reached for another knife.
“Actually, I… I think we’re fine…” the thug with the broken nose stuttered, then ran out of the alley, not even bothering to pick up his gun or wait for the other, who just quickly followed him without a word.
Then the stranger turned to face Goody and he could finally have a good look at him. The man was Asian, he could only tell that, well-dressed, and had several knives strapped onto his body but no guns. He had dark, mysterious eyes and his equally dark, silky hair was tied back in a bun. He, too, was levelling Goodnight with an analyzing gaze, but he couldn’t make out any other emotion on his face.
Goody collapsed to the ground, dropped his guns, and buried his face in his hands. He was saved. He knew that he was now safe, that he should just thank this stranger and flee, hide in his room and have this humiliating breakdown there, but he felt the last waves of terror still in his blood, spreading through his body. He tried to take deep breaths to calm himself down and concentrated on anything that could calm him…
“You alright?” he heard a low voice, coming from very close. He looked up to find the stranger crouching in front of him, studying him with a frown.
“Yes… I am” Goody rasped, lowering his hands from in front of his face. “Excuse me for this… I just…” he tried to put a sensible sentence together but couldn’t. He sighed and started again. “My name’s Goodnight Robicheaux. Thank you for saving me.”
There. So much better.
“Mine’s Billy Rocks” the stranger nodded.
“A pleasure meeting you, Mr. Rocks” Goody managed a smile, as charming as he could in this state.
Billy just let out a laugh at that, then stood up and offered a hand for Goody. He quickly put his pistols back to their holsters, then gladly accepted the hand. Once on his feet again, he dusted off his clothes and adjusted them to look proper. He noticed Billy still watching him intently, and it came to him that he should probably offer him a reward or something for saving his skin just now.
“I am grateful for your help just now” Goody smiled at him again, and straightened his back, finally feeling like the last drop of fear just left his body. “What can I offer you in exchange for that?”
Billy didn’t say anything to that, just let his eyes take in Goody’s form in a way Goody could only describe as appreciative. He blinked in surprise at that, but before he could get out another word, Billy looked up in his eyes and gave him a seductive smile that completely took his breath away.
“A drink would suffice.”
“Then a drink it is” Goody said, finding his voice again, and smiled back. “Lead the way.”
