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sad-sweet-cowboah · 2 years ago

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The Heart of Your Home Pt 1

Summary: Arthur comes across a woman in need. What he thought was a simple good deed would take him down a much further path than anticipated.

Warnings: Cursing in this chapter, eventual canon-typical violence, eventual smut.

Word Count: 6,250

A/N: I have been working on this on the wayside for the past few months. I'm excited to continue working on this, so please sit tight!

The steady trot of the beast was all that filled Arthur’s ears. Bright sunshine warmed the otherwise cool air that blanketed northern New Hanover. His stallion’s hooves kicked up slight clouds of dust as they traveled the well-beaten path stretching out before them. The swaying trees of Cumberland Forest waited up ahead, teeming with life.

It’d been a few weeks since he’d last come up here; originally traveling up this way to clear out a group of O’Driscolls, like flushing foxes out of a den. He intentionally kept away in case any stragglers decided to return in revenge of their fallen brethren. Not that a man like him would have trouble disposing them just as well as the former assault, however, his goal was different today. Pearson needed meat, and the northern forest was rich with elk.

A strong gust of wind swirled around him, sending a chill down his spine and reminding him of those bitter weeks in Colter. God forbid they’d be driven into the snow again.

As the wind calmed, a different sound carried across the terrain. An unmistakable chorus of wolves howled. Arthur tensed, knowing that was their signal of easy prey, and he glanced around while his horse’s head shot up and began to squirm apprehensively.

No pack in sight, the haunting melody seemingly originating from the plateau to his right. It would take any man or animal more effort than it was worth to stagger down the jagged path to even reach him. He was safe, sliding his gloved hand along the stallion’s neck to soothe.

“Easy, boy,” he cooed. “You’re alright.”

No sooner did those words leave his mouth, a shrill scream pierced the otherwise still air. A scream of pure, utter terror. The scream of a woman. The desperate cry for help.

He knew better than to meddle in other’s affairs. Why should he care if some stranger became a predator’s next meal?

Perhaps he cared more than he liked to admit.

Turning his horse toward the nearest pathway up, he snapped out a command to go, his steed jolting forward despite its previous anxiety. The stallion expertly navigated the steep, rocky terrain until the land smoothed out, peaking to a flat expanse that seemingly went for miles with the cloudless azure sky.

Another sharp wail. His head turned, spotting the culprit just a few yards away. A pack of three timber wolves, all facing away and slowly stalking toward their prey beneath a large tree.

Arthur had no time to waste. He whistled loudly, catching the attention of the closest. It spun around and stared at Arthur with fierce amber eyes, lips curled back to bear a hungry, toothy grin.

A deft hand was on his revolver in a split second, drawing it from his holster and landed a bullet right between its eyes. The gunshot alerted the other two, turning away from their original prey to now target him as well.

He didn’t give them a chance. Expertly wielding his firearm to dispatch them, their now lifeless bodies falling limp to the grass, the surrounding forage painted a deep scarlet. The gun slotted back to its home.

The air was silenced again, barren of songbirds and woodland creatures, undoubtedly frightened by his interception. His eyes shifted, scanning the open area for any additional threats.

There was a squeak, as timid and frightened as a mouse. His gaze settled upon its origin, the woman that was just seconds away from being mauled to death.

Dressed in a simple button-up blouse and a vibrant skirt and hair tied back into a neat bun, you were more out of place than a rancher was in the city. Your eyes were wide with terror, hands up in attempt to defend yourself, though one fist clenched and full of what appeared to be leafy sprigs.

“Are you okay, miss?” Arthur quietly asked.

He watched as you slowly lowered your hands, your gaze fixated on the dead wolves. “I...” you started, before taking a shaky breath and looking to him directly. “I-I'm okay...thank you.”

He nodded in response. With the deed done, he should be on his way, but the curiosity was beginning to gnaw. It wasn't his business why you were out here, and he should just leave it at that. He should turn and continue along his path.

However, the thought of a woman alone and defenseless out in the wilderness didn’t exactly sit right with him. “This ain’t exactly the safest place to be,” he commented. “Why’re you out here?”

Your eyes averted immediately, and your head hung, reminding him of a child being scolded. “Looking for herbs,” you say rather quietly, your left fist opening to reveal more of the leafy stems laden in your palm, before tucking them into a small leather satchel attached around your waist. “I don’t normally venture so far from home, but—”

The glint of a silver ring on your finger caught Arthur’s attention. “Your husband don’t help?” he guessed, leaning onto the horn of his saddle.

“My husband? Hah!” your demeanor changed immediately, tilting your head back in a scoff. “Please, my husband doesn’t know a dandelion from a daffodil! No,” you sighed, shaking your head in disappointment. “As the dutiful wife, I keep the house clean and our bellies full.”

“So...you came out here jus’ to look for ingredients?” Arthur asked. “With no proper protection?”

Your brow furrowed into a scowl, the corners of your lips wrinkling. “Had I known there were wolves out here, I wouldn’t have bothered. Like I said, I don’t usually venture from home. But our herb garden died after last week’s frost.”

“There's supplies right in Valentine,” Arthur pointed out. “Would be much less dangerous than bein’ out here.”

“Ah yes, that muddy little farming town,” your nose wrinkled in disgust. “We arrived there by train when we first moved out here...” you shook your head and sighed, turning to gaze across the plateau. “Guess I have no choice now...” you glanced around wildly and frowned. “Those damn wolves scared away my horse!”

Arthur held back a sigh. The last thing he wanted to do was to traipse around New Hanover in search of a frightened steed. Poor thing is probably halfway to Ambarino by now or got cornered by something else.

That didn’t solve the matter at hand, however. To leave you alone even after killing those mongrels would fill him with unnecessary guilt. He didn’t have to continue, but that small part of his conscience convinced him otherwise. “Would you, uh, like a ride back to town?” he offered.

Your gaze fell to him immediately, your expression brightening. “If you would, please.”

Arthur nodded and held his hand out, and you stepped forward to grab it, using the freed stirrup to hoist yourself onto the back of his Andalusian. As you settled behind him, Arthur took a glance at the wolf carcasses, making a mental note to return here later. Pearson surely would appreciate having some extra pelts on hand.

He turned the horse around, spurring it into an easy lope back toward the pathway.

“I can’t tell you how grateful I am for this, mister,” you say. “I can’t imagine the thought of having to hoof it to Valentine on foot after that ordeal. My poor horse…I hope she’s okay.”

“Jus’ don’t make it a habit of makin’ trips out here, at least without somethin’ to protect yourself with,” Arthur pointed out. “It’s more dangerous than you’d think.”

“I think I got plenty of that in one day,” you sighed. “You might see me as some foolish woman, and I know I am. My husband and I have been out here for two months, and I still haven’t completely adjusted,” you laughed dryly. “See, we’re from out East, him and I.”

Arthur didn’t respond. Easterners, civilized folk that had no business being out here. Businessmen led out West with the promise of opportunities, reaping the land of its riches.

“Was all his idea to move out this way,” you continued over his silence. “I tried to make the best of it. It’s not like back at home, some days I do miss my cozy apartment...but as my husband said, there’s no point in returning when there’s something better out here for us.”

From the tone of your voice, Arthur could tell you rolled your eyes. “That’s what a lot of folk say,” Arthur mumbled. “In the end, it don’t always work out and they go back, tails tucked between their legs.”

“You don’t know my husband then,” you respond with a dry laugh. “Ambition is his game, and he’s one smart gambler.”

“For your sake, I’d hope so,” Arthur said, peering ahead to see Valentine’s rooftops appear in the distance.

The remainder of the trip fell silent. Arthur was thankful you hadn’t strayed too far from town, since this minor detour would still allow him ample time to return to his original trip.

The offending scent of the stockyards was the first to hit his nose to announce their arrival into Valentine. Mud slopped around the horse’s hooves as they trotted further into town, sidling along the edge to clear the path for the stagecoaches rolling past. He turned right, facing the bustling street. He stopped at the nearest post, avoiding the rest of the traffic.

You slid off and landed delicately, smoothing your skirt out before looking back up to him. “Thank you, mister,” you say with a smile. “Um...would you mind if you took me home too? I don’t live too far from here.”

Well, shit. Seems like this detour would take longer than he’d anticipated. He’d already done enough and removed you from any immediate danger. “Sure,” he answered, waving his hand with a half-hearted flourish.

Your smile only widened. “Thank you again, I won’t be long!” You hurried along, excitedly popping up onto the wooden walkway and disappeared into one of the shops.

Arthur sighed, dragging a palm across his face. He truly had no business escorting folk, especially someone who seemed so out of her element. However, he felt the need to at least carry through, provide you with safe passage home to your foolish husband. Perhaps today may be a lesson for you to stay safer, or even compel the two of you to move back East.

Just as you promised, your venture into the shop did not take long at all. A mere five minutes passed before the door creaked open and you reappeared, making a beeline toward him. The relief was plain on your face.

“Find what you needed?” Arthur asked.

“And much more!” You exclaim. “I think I’ll be set for the week.”

Arthur nodded in approval and held his hand out for you to take. Instead, you placed your hands along his horse’s rump and hoisted yourself up with one smooth motion.

You settled behind him once again and pointed westward. “We live that way, couple miles out of town.”

He didn’t hesitate to follow your direction, wasting no time to leave Valentine in his wake. The buildings gave way to an open field with trees in the distance, leading off to the mountains of West Elizabeth further out. It’d only taken an extra twenty minutes at a steady trot along the path until you instructed him to veer off into the trees, following a much narrower path. Up ahead, the forage began to thin out to a small field with what appeared to be a small house, and an even smaller barn sitting quaintly behind it.

He emerged from the tree line, allowing full sight of what he presumed was your home. The outside seemed to be kept neat and orderly, with an immaculate fence offset from the porch full of greenery. As he approached closer, he realized they were half-wilted.

“Home sweet home,” you sighed as you slid off the horse, stepping toward the house. Only to pause and look back at him. “Thank you so much, again. You’re the kindest person I’ve met out here so far.”

Arthur chuckled humorlessly at your comment. “Ah, I don’t know about that, ma’am.”

“Nonsense,” you brush away his refute. “You showed up at just the right time, I’m sure anyone else would have left me to the wolves, all for some stupid plants...” you glanced back toward the garden with a grimace before turning your attention back to him. “Hey, won’t you join me for dinner? I’d like to repay you.”

Arthur hadn’t expected that. Heading back out would be ideal, at least to try and hunt before evening settled in. He also hadn’t eaten since breakfast back at camp. Even though he had some fruit in his back, it would not be enough to satiate him for the next few hours.

Another thought crossed his mind. “Your husband won’t mind the company?” he carefully asked, knowing a face like his appearing in a comfortable homestead may be unsettling.

“Oh, he’s not home tonight, out doing business as usual,” you sighed. “I always make more than enough, just in case, but I’m tired of letting some of my hard work go to waste.”

Something about that statement irked Arthur. From the information you’ve told him so far, it seemed your husband was painfully oblivious to what life really was like out here, most likely having no inkling of his wife ignorantly exploring the wilderness just to make a tasty meal.

The rumble of his stomach cut his thoughts short, and he pressed a hand to his abdomen. It’d been at least a half-day since breakfast, and with the past hour or so spent on a detour, the opportunity for a hot meal was difficult to pass.

“Sure, why not?” he finally said. “I’ll have a plate.”

You flashed a beaming smile at him. “Excellent. Here...” You pointed to the small barn behind the house. “You can put your horse in there for a bit, I’m sure he’s just as hungry as you are. You can come in when you’re done.”

You turned on your heel, bounding up the porch steps to disappear behind a door. Arthur did as he was told, dismounting his horse and leading him toward the barn. He shoved the door open, peering into the tiny, two-stall building. One stall stood completely clean, devoid of any sign of use, while the other had a mess of half-eaten hay, most likely from the horse you’d claimed ran off earlier. He led the stallion into this stall, and the horse immediately dove into the hay.

Arthur patted the horse’s neck with a small smile. It wasn’t too often that a stranger’s hospitality also extended toward his steed as well. He left the stallion to enjoy the hay, stepping back out and heading toward the house.

He stepped onto the porch, panels creaking beneath his weight. The door opened easily, and he stepped inside, greeted by the cozy, bright interior. It was almost as if he stepped inside a dollhouse.

You were at the stove directly opposite him, leaning over a large pot, sprinkling a few leaves into what seemed to be a sort of stew. Upon his entrance, you turned and gave him another smile. “Won’t be much longer. If you’d like to wash up, there’s a wash basin in the next room,” you gestured with a flick of your head towards the right.

Arthur once again wordlessly followed your direction, setting his sights toward a door standing ajar in the corner. He absorbed the scenery before him as he moved. If he hadn’t known you were in the middle of the woods, he would have guessed he was somewhere like Blackwater. It was evident you were not ready to transition from your previous life, as almost every surface seemed to be meticulously kept and covered with décor.

He pushed the door open to reveal a bedroom that was oddly plain compared to what he’d just witnessed in the kitchen. The bed was neatly made, an oak armoire sitting directly across from it. In the corner next to him sat a small porcelain and golden wash basin, already filled with water.

He took caution when washing up, not to spill any dirty water upon the swept floors. Though he supposed it didn’t matter, given how much dust coated his worn leather boots. Once finished he made his way back into the kitchen, just in time to witness you ladle stew into two bowls. The small table was the only thing separating the two of you, and Arthur took a seat.

Placing a bowl in front of him, you moved to sit opposite. “It’s not much, but I hope you enjoy it.”

The savory aroma only made his stomach gurgle again. He peered down to observe the dish. The browned liquid swimming with a medley of vegetables and meat, with speckles of whichever herbs you’d added. He took a spoonful and placed it in his mouth, his tongue delightfully greeted with rich flavor.

Enjoying it was an understatement. He would have shoveled the whole damn thing into his mouth if maintaining politeness wasn’t a factor. “No complaints here, ma’am,” he said after swallowing. “This may be the best stew I’ve ever had.”

Your smile was bashful, but the light in your eyes told him how you appreciated the praise. “Glad to know my husband doesn’t lie to me when he says he likes my cooking,” you giggled lightly. “I appreciate it, Mister...” you trailed off, giving him a hopeful look for a proper introduction.

“Arthur,” he answered.

You nodded and gave him your name in response. “Thank you for not letting this go to waste.”

Offering a small smile, Arthur then took another bite. It was tempting to ask for the recipe to pass along to Pearson for ideas. “It’d be a shame, especially after almost gettin’ eaten.”

You giggled again, your voice ringing melodically. “Well Arthur, I’m glad you could join me for dinner after that nonsense. It gets quite lonely living out here sometimes.”

“Your husband often leaves you alone like this?” Arthur asked.

There was a pause. The open and friendly demeanor you possessed suddenly vanished as you sat up straight, giving him a cautious stare. “Don’t mistake my hospitality as vulnerability, Arthur. My husband may be away, but I promise you my intentions are not what you're assuming.”

Arthur was taken aback by this, having not realized his words might’ve had another meaning. “Oh no, ma’am!” He dropped his spoon and held his hands up defensively. “That ain’t what I meant at all, believe me. My intentions ain’t nothin’ of the sort.”

You seemed to be satisfied by his answer as the rigidity of your body eased, though the look of caution remained. “I’m no fool to the desires of men,” you say. “Doesn’t matter where I am, they’re almost always the same.”

As unfortunate as the statement was, Arthur had to agree with you. He’d witnessed it more times than he’d cared, though never taking part for himself. It was often those who held a position of power, abusing it as such to have their ways. He despised men of the sort. “You don’t have to worry, I swear I ain’t like that,” he responded.

The gaze you held on him was steady and scrutinizing, as if searching his face for any tale of a lie. Soon the lines of worry began to soften, your lips hinting the ghost of a smile. “I suppose I should believe you, otherwise you would’ve had me after taking care of the wolves. You’re a man of honor, Arthur.”

A dejected chuckle left his throat as he shook his head. He cared little to argue, as you’d only seen just a fraction of what he truly was. Had you known he was a wanted outlaw, your perspective would change in a heartbeat.

Still, he’d come across a myriad of people from different walks on his travels. Those who either welcomed him with open arms or pointed a gun to his face, most of which didn’t know his true identity, and they never had to, to determine what sort of person he was.

Without a reply, he settled into a comfortable silence to finish his meal. You simply followed suit, leaving the conversation to rest.

Arthur took his time with the stew, savoring every bite knowing he may not receive another one just as delicious. The sun settling through the west-facing window indicated just how much time has passed since this initial diversion. It had to be late afternoon now, had those last few hours flown by that quickly?

With the bowl empty and his once withering stomach now satisfyingly full, Arthur leaned back in his seat and gave a content sigh. “I suppose I should be gettin' back on the road,” he said to catch your attention.

You looked back up, and Arthur caught a flicker of emotion on your face, but you smiled before he could determine what it was exactly. “Of course, seems to be getting late,” you glanced at the window. “I hope I didn’t keep you from anything important.”

While it certainly took away a few hours' worth of hunting, he couldn’t readily admit that. You were kind enough to offer hospitality in return to his decided kindness, much different than a few billfolds or a piece of jewelry that would normally accompany these rare occasions. A full stomach and a rested horse, however, that was rare.

“Nothin’ too important,” Arthur assured you. While the camp’s coffer was low, there was no immediate need for fresh kill that same day. He could attempt to make it back up to Cumberland before nightfall and set up camp for a fresh start tomorrow.

You escorted him back to the barn where his horse was still working through the remnants of hay. The stallion left it rather reluctantly as Arthur pulled him back out into the open. As he mounted and glanced up at the sky, making a note of the time. It wasn’t quite sunset just yet; the bright blues were beginning to fade into a fiery orange.

“Thank you, again, Arthur,” your voice drew his attention. “Not just for helping me, but providing me with some company as well.”

Arthur nodded to you. “Try to stay outta trouble, miss.”

You giggled and shook your head bashfully. “I think today was enough trouble for a lifetime, I’ll be sticking to the safety of stores from now on.”

Arthur offered you a half-smile. “Good luck to you.” He bid his farewells and turned his horse away from the homestead, making his way back to the worn path.

---

The wooden shops and stands of Valentine were bathed in a slight golden glow, tale of the sunset to Arthur’s back by the time he’d reached the town again. He could travel just a little bit further and set up camp for the night for a fresh start tomorrow morning, but his mind had been elsewhere since he left your house.

The idea of a woman out of her element living away from civilization without protection didn’t sit right with him. He wondered how long it’d been since you settled out here, and how often your husband left you to your own devices. Had he not been there to rescue you today, how much time would have passed until your husband came home to an empty house, without a clue what happened?

How could that damn fool not know what he was getting himself into? A businessman had no business trying to adapt to the ways of the rugged.

Arthur shook his head to himself. The vulnerability you presented yourself with today would hopefully harden with more time spent out here, and preferably before you landed yourself into trouble again.

He sighed, skirting around the town rather than subjecting his horse to trot through that muck a second time. It was best to not worry about the affairs of strangers, especially those he may never even see again.

His thoughts occupied most of the remaining journey. The sky steadily darkened as the hour grew later, and the familiar reaches of the emerald pines that outlined Cumberland once again came into view. He considered taking the path back to those wolves, if scavengers hadn’t already begun to pick.

A yawn stopped that thought in his tracks. The day stretched longer than he intended, and the stew still sat heavy in his belly. It would be best to set up camp now.

He pulled away from the main path to disappear beneath the canopy of pine, locating just a clearing just large enough to hold a tent. He dismounted and immediately got to work, having his campsite completed just as the last of the daylight was swallowed by the mountains further West.

With his small tent set up and a meager campfire a striking amber against the inky landscape, fatigue began to settle in. The vestiges of stew finally departed his stomach, announcing its emptiness with a slight grumble. He wished he could have another bowl, but instead helped himself to a can of beans dug out of his satchel.

It was nowhere near as filling, but it was enough to draw out the tendrils of fatigue, and he turned in soon after to be lulled by nature’s melodies.

—-

Arthur awoke with an early start; the sky a pale gray with the hint of dawn. A perfect time for hunting, he thought, and with a quick helping of coffee, he grabbed his bow off his horse and set deeper into the woods.

He thanked Charles for the lessons in tracking; broken twigs and overturned leaf litter would have gone unnoticed by someone with an untrained eye. The trail was fairly fresh, and the wind carried the distinct echo of an elk’s call. He continued onward, ensuring his footfalls were light and as soundless as possible. It wasn’t much longer until he came upon a small clearing, a small herd of elk peacefully grazing and unaware of his presence.

Carefully removing the bow and an arrow from his back, he set it in place and drew the bowstring back, aiming for the closest. He had a clear shot straight to the head, and—

The elks’ heads suddenly shot up, ears pricked and eyes wide. At first Arthur thought he’d somehow startled them, but their attention was drawn in another direction. Within a heartbeat they turned and ran, heading deeper into the forest.

“Shit,” he hissed, standing up with frustration and regretted leaving his horse behind. He wondered if he could head back quickly to grab his stallion, perhaps he could pick up the trail again without the herd wandering too far ahead.

A flicker a movement in the corner of his eye caused him to turn his head, opposite where the elk ran. With a start he expected a predator. Instead, it was a horse.

Wild horses were not an uncommon sighting, especially further away from civilization. As the beast trotted into the clearing, its head held high, and ears pricked forward in alert. Arthur spotted a saddle on its back, a bridle with broken reins dragging through the brush. Its black and white coat stained a cool brown with mud.

He wondered what happened, and what poor soul was out there looking for their steed, if they were even still alive. As the horse slowed to a stop and dipped its head to graze, Arthur caught a glimpse of what looked like bundles of drying plants hanging from each side.

Something pricked in his mind. It was a sense of familiarity about it, even though he’d never seen this horse before. Something about the plants it carried...

And then it hit him. His encounter with you yesterday, you were gathering herbs and you mentioned your horse ran off, frightened by the pack of wolves. The chance of it belonging to someone else would be slim.

It made sense to find the steed out here, but he was surprised it hadn’t been cornered by other predators. It’d only been a day, though it would not last much longer with the weight of the saddle and the reins dangling so dangerously low.

He sighed, silently cursing himself for what he was about to do. He should just ignore the thing and continue hunting, but a tiny voice in the back of his mind told him otherwise. Securing the bow to his torso, he slowly stepped into the open.

The horse must’ve sensed him, as its head shot back up, its wide blue eyes directly onto him. Nostrils flared, expelling a loud snort, almost as if it were a dragon from a story book.

“Easy there,” Arthur cooed, his voice low and even. He watched as every muscle tensed, ready to turn and sprint off. “Easy...” he repeated.

The horse stared unblinkingly as he approached, inch by inch, hands reaching up slowly. Arthur silently willed it not to run. He was just a few feet away, and he went to reach for one of the reins still on the ground.

The horse flinched, and Arthur froze, holding his breath. Thankfully, it didn’t take off.

“You’re alright...” he said softly, waiting for another second before moving again. With a stroke of luck, he swiftly grabbed the broken rein. The horse didn’t offer another reaction, though still watched with wide eyes as Arthur patted its sweaty neck. He took a cursory glance underneath, and said, “Good girl.”

The mare seemed to relax at his touch, and Arthur finally noted the sheen of sweat against her dirty coat. A layer of foam outlined the breast collar and the girth. It seemed the poor girl was running for a while and had only stopped just at the right moment.

He ran his fingers against her velvet muzzle, feeling her hot breath as she attempted to sniff him. “Why don’t I take you home?” he said to her. “I’m sure there’s someone that misses ya.”

—-

A gentle breeze stirred the surrounding treetops, filling the air with a soft rustle of leaves and branches. It was a crisp wind; something you had yet to get used to. The grip on the shawl upon your shoulders tightened. As beautiful as your home was, you wished it would just be a little warmer.

You stood up from the rocking chair perched upon your porch, itching for something to do. Boredom occupied most of your time since moving out here, between washing windowpanes and cooking with the same ingredients day in and day out. You insisted on possibly finding a job, a seamstress or a maid perhaps, but your husband Frederick detested this, adamantly reminding you he would earn more than enough to support the two of you.

Oftentimes you would cure your restlessness by taking a short ride with your mare, but even that was ripped away by yesterday’s escapades. Frederick paid a pretty penny for that Criollo coming from the beautiful livery in Saint Denis, stopping when only learning she was imported straight from South America. That mare had quickly bonded with you and became your only friend since the move.

But now she was gone, most likely enjoying her sudden freedom, or worse—

Slamming your hand onto a pillar severed that train of thought. You instead focused on the meager herb garden, once leafy green stalks now an ugly brown and wilted. You sighed; gardening was never your forte and prior to last week, you were quite proud of your crop. The adjustment from comfortable civilization to a homestead in the middle of the wilderness wasn’t a smooth transition. You longed for your old home, your old town, and your mundane yet comfortable life.

A shudder rocked through your body. Until recently, you’d been immune and willfully ignorant of the dangers lurking in the shadows, stalking in the trees, waiting for the opportune moment to pounce. Though you often wished for something exciting to break the otherwise monotonous day-to-day, having nearly died at the salivating fangs of those wolves was enough excitement for a lifetime.

You were beyond thankful for that man, Arthur, for coming to your rescue. He had no business helping you the way he did, and you weren’t ignorant of that. You caught the hesitation in his voice, the flicker in his eyes, the judgmental tone he held when you explained the situation. He most likely saw you as an inconvenience. Regardless, the pity he bestowed on you was enough to ensure you were safe.

Although unlikely, you hoped you would see him again at least once. He was the first person to show you true kindness and didn’t dare to take advantage of yours. It was a true rarity to come across someone to possess such redeeming qualities.

The faint rustle of bushes caught your attention, but only for a brief second. Wildlife was plentiful around here, usually in the form of squirrels, rabbits, and the occasional deer or Pronghorn. The coyote yips and yowls often sounded off in the distance during the night, but you never once saw them cross the threshold of your property while you or Frederick were outside.

A flicker of movement swept your gaze to the side. Too large for a coyote or even a deer, your heart skipped a beat in apprehension. Was your husband home? Or worse, more wolves somehow tracked your scent?

From the tree line stepped out a horse, its dappled gray coat standing stark against the emerald shrubbery. Its rider was an unexpectedly welcome sight.

“Arthur?” you said in surprise, allowing yourself to relax. He seemed to have something in his hand, and what followed surprised you even more.

Your horse.

Your mouth fell open in pure shock. You blinked multiple times, as if the sight before you were a hallucination. But surely enough, Arthur gave you a small smile and stopped just a few feet before your porch steps.

“Hope you don't mind the intrusion,” he said. “Found this girl up in Cumberland Forest.”

You bounded down the steps wordlessly, your mouth still gaped. “What—” you took a sharp breath. “How did you know...” That was my horse? You finished the question without speaking.

Arthur shrugged, turning to look at the mare. “I saw her lookin’ a little distressed, like she’d been runnin’ all night. Then I saw the bundles of herbs on the saddle, could only guess who she belonged to,” he held out one of the leather reins, which you took instantly, running your shaking free hand along the mare’s painted coat.

You truly thought the worst for this poor creature, and if it hadn't yet again been for this kind stranger, your fears might as well have manifested one way or another. “T-thank you Arthur, thank you!” You gave him a wide smile. How could you repay him this time? The remaining stew from yesterday had been almost completely diminished throughout the bitterly cold night following, and you were sure he wasn't going to wait around for another batch, as much as you saw that he enjoyed the first.

Your eyes wandered to the now dried bundles of leaves still strapped on either side of your saddle. While the shop trip from yesterday was enough to replenish your pantry, this addition would keep you from venturing out again for a while. Yesterday’s events definitely gave you a more wary eye.

Eyes on him again, quickly observing the faded tan jacket and the even more worn hat concealing his gaze. A bow was strapped across his back, and the gleam of a silver revolver shone from the holster adorning his waist. This was a man well-traveled, well versed and not afraid of life’s dangers. A spike of envy roiled in your stomach, wishing you had half the nerve he did.

It then occurred to you that it’d been a moment since you last spoke, and as if Arthur read your mind, he cleared his throat and glanced over his shoulder.

“I oughta start—”

“Wait!”

Arthur froze, turning to look at you again. You surprised yourself, having uttered this word without even thinking. Quickly, you composed yourself and continued, “Thank you again, Arthur. You’ve done more than you realize...” you paused as your mare nudged you gently, as if pressing you on. “I...I don’t have any stew prepared, but you’re welcome to stop by anytime if you’re hungry. I can whip up something.”

His hand raised as if to wave away the offer, but you continued before he had the chance. “I insist,” you add. “Between saving my life and my horse’s, it’s the least I can do! And your horse...” you reached over to pat the gorgeous Andalusian. “Is welcome to take a rest in the barn as well. I don’t mind.”

Arthur looked as if he were going to argue, mouth opening, but paused. For a few long seconds he seemed thoughtful, and finally said, “That’s real kind of ya, thank you.”

You smiled widely at him. Shortly after he bid his goodbyes and turned around, you watching until the silvery swishing tail of his horse disappeared into the trees once again. You turned to your mare, relieved to have her back and simultaneously avoiding that awkward conversation for once your husband came back home as to why she was missing.

“We’re lucky Arthur came to our rescue, huh?” you say to her, running your hand along her velvet muzzle.

#Arthur Morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader

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liquid-bonhomme · 3 months ago

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Yeah, so, I am by no means a Canadian gun laws expert, and I don't know the specifics of Nova Scotia's particular license registration requirements-- but no.

Lily's either lying through her teeth or admitting to have an unlicensed, restricted firearm, which is a SERIOUS crime here.

My province likely has some of the higher rates of gun ownership outside of the territories, and I'm not even sure I'D pass a hunting license application. No criminal record, no delinquency, but several psych ward stays. And that's for a HUNTING RIFLE. Handguns are a totally different story.

Further more, handguns simply just aren't as common here. They're not actually super great for self-defense if you're not going into a situation where you can draw them preemptively. They're useful to cops and criminals, and that's about it. They're more of a liability in 90% of self-defense circumstances. We DO NOT support concealed carry here. Canada's self-defense laws are a little weird, and, especially in urban areas, you could easily get charged with assault or murder shooting someone even in your own home.

If you're not like, a gun enthusiasts who shoots for hobby or sport, a cop or a vet/active army, if someone saw you had a handgun in your house, they'd assume you were a drug dealer and 75% of the time they'd be right.

If she said she had a hunting rifle, kinda still sus but, not out of the realm of possibility. A handgun? Fat fucking chance.

If she IS telling the truth, the most likely explanation is she got it from Cam and isn't supposed to have it, period. Which means it'd be licensed to him, and though he's a waist of human skin and has as much brains as he is a good person, like, I don't think he's THAT dumb. If for no other reason, he doesn't give THAT much of a shit for Lily's safety.

Occam's razor, this is another Ameriboo moment from ol' Lorch. A fucking egregious one at that.

#lily orchard #lily orchard critical #liquid orcard #anti lily orchard #lily peet #lily orchard stuff #lorch posting #youtube #eldritch lily #cd call #cd call critical

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thetruearchmagos · 10 months ago

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Probably the only two things I didn't like in Blue Eye Samurai were how 'exoticised' the guns were, and the whole castle assault thing.

The last one is probably self explanatory considering how particular I can be about screwing up military 'activities' in media, but the first one might need some explanation.

Ya see, I don't actually care about whether the gun models were historically accurate, or their effectiveness, or anything like that. What I care about is how alien they seem to have been made to appear to the 'Japanese' side of the story. Like, this is Edo Japan, they have guns, and used guns back in the day to unify the country.

While I can kinda understand them not appearing in most parts of the setting, I'm kinda ticked off at the fact that the guard of the Shogun himself, being presumably some of the best in Japan, don't either?!? In fact, they act like they've never seen a gun in their life, but that gets into the battle side of things and I don't wanna go further than drawing that connection.

Nonetheless, I think there's something more to this utterly odd portrayal of firearms here at stake. The great, long lived, and stupid myth / legend that 'Samurai don't use guns', which has existed well before BES, is itself just one facet of the common trope that 'oriental' societies are hopelessly and actively backwards in their rejection of modernity, to their ruin at the hands of those who do.

And I don't want to blame this show or anyone connected to it for the fact that this trope exists, because I don't think they mean to trade in that sorta thing. There is a genuine narrative impact achieved through so thoroughly overstating the resistance to modernity that these 'old elites' embody, but at the same time it's hard to overstate how much the zeitgeist / public 'knowledge' that surrounds foreign societies and times is shaped by the media that portrays them, 'knowledge' that sometimes leaks into perceptions of actual, current societies, though I don't consider that fact a necessary addition to justify criticism.

I guess I wanted to say that I, for one, just don't think that a good story is worth misrepresenting the actual sentiments and beliefs of times long past. It's sad to see it happen.

#blue eye samurai #? Not sure if tagging the show is a good idea or not but I realise I don't much care #Ehh...

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grimfalcon746 · 11 months ago

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Jacob the Vicious: Chapter 2

This is part two to a story i started a while ago. Part 1 linked below Part 1

***

Demons Flee when Good Men Go to War

"What does that mean?" One warrior asked their captain.

"I'm not sure. Terralia, you have any idea?" The captain asked.

"No. Jacob never mentioned anything of the sort." Terralia replied.

Another ship had landed while the warriors were searching the wreckage. As the occupants of the other ship entered the cargo hold, one warrior grabbed Terralia, dragging her into the cockpit, he stood guard over the priestess while the other warriors received the aliens.

"Who are you." The alien demanded.

The alien stood tall, around nine feet, and was the shortest of the six. His orange skin was mostly hidden by his armor. The weapons the band carries were swords and clubs. No projectile weapons among them. These men were Vilguls, who had sworn off firearms and similar weapons in terms of man to man combat. Their ships still used them, as was necessary in terms of vessel warfare, however they preferred to disable enemy ships, and attack hand to hand, rather then rely on their ships weapons. It is easy to see why, with four arms and brute force, not many could go hand to hand with them. They loved the thrill of the fight.

It was rare of the Vilguls to attack humans, but the contract had been worth it. Twenty-five million standard credits. One human vessel may not be much of a threat to the Vilguls, however they knew the humans tendency for revenge. Still Twenty-five million standard credits was enough for them to take the risk.

The captain answered the Vilguls question. "We are warriors from the nearby village, investigating the crash."

"Warriors, you say." The alien responded, a smile creeping onto his lips. Grabbing a club and a sword from their holsters, he approached the warriors.

"We do not mean to fight you." The captain assured.

"Fight. Don't fight. Death will be the same either way.

Realizing these aliens were not going to allow anyone to live, Terralia made a break for the control panel.

"Terralia, What are you doing?" Her guard whispered.

"Activating the distress beacon. Hopefully there is another ship close." Terralia replied. "After that I will climb out the broken window, once I make the treeline, you should follow suit."

"I will cover you from here, but I will not join you. My squad needs my help." The guard replied.

In the time it took Terralia to activate the distress beacon and climb out the window, the Captain had already been slain. The second in command was locked into combat with the Vilgul leader now, losing badly. His dominant arm had been broken in three places and his chest had been crushed.

"We got a runner." Another Vilgul called out.

"Go ahead." The Vilgul leader commanded.

A bit of panic crept into the guard as he turned to see where Terralia was. He let a breath of relief out, as Terralia was almost at the treeline, they would never catch her. She knew those woods like the back of her hand, with all the time she spent with Jacob in them. They would never find her once she was made the treeline.

Standing over the beaten soldier, the Vilgul leader raised his club. Taking delight in the moment before finishing off an enemy. As the club came down, it was deflected by the blade of Terralia's guard. The club slammed into the ships floor hard, as the guard swung for the leg. The Vilguls leg collapsed as the blade cut into the flesh.

The guard backed off, as the Vilgul had squared off to him.

"You should have gone for the kill." The Vilgul mocked. "Your comrade is going to die anyways." Taking a moment to inspect the wound on his leg, a mere flesh wound, he continued. "It has been some time since someone had been able to draw blood on me. Our skin is thick, and strong. Your blade must be exceptionally sharp."

Without responding the guard attacked again. His sword being blocked with every thrust, as he did not have the element of surprise this time. The Vilgul was having fun, toying with his opponent, until the guard spat in his eye. As he recoiled from the wad of spit in his eye, the guard thrust the blade at his throat.

Deflecting the blade with his sword, the Vilgul brought the club down hard on the shaft of the sword, breaking the sword near the hilt. Not to be deterred the guard thrust the blade at the face of the Vilgul. The plate helmet got knocked off, as the blade dug a gash along the side his face, causing him to stumble back.

"I like you." The Vilgul complimented, not even reacting to the blood coming from his face. "Your sword shattered, and you cut me with the fractured remains. You should join us, you can live as a pet on our ship. See the other planets, learn to fight like a real warrior. How about it?"

"I'd sooner die!" The guard shot, charging the Vilgul again.

The club collided with his skull before he even knew it had been swung. Bone fractured and brain matter spattered the area with the single blow. Before the body had even dropped the Vilgul had already turned back towards the wounded enemy. Finishing him off with one more swing, he wiped the blood from his face.

"Kill the rest." Came the command, as he picked his helmet up, putting it back on his head.

Slaughter. That's the only way to describe what happened next. The warriors were dead before they could even draw their weapons, their corpses mangled with the brute force of the attack. The Vilgul leader made his way to the cockpit. Finding all crew accounted for and dead he left the ship, with his comrades in tow.

"I lost them sir." The Vilgul who had chased Terralia admitted as he returned.

"There is a village nearby." The leader said. "We will attack it to try and draw them out. Failing that we will scorch everything for 100 kilometers."

"Is that really necessary?" One Vilgul asked.

"We just killed humans. Do not forget what they are like. We can not afford to leave any alive who can identify us." He replied.

The sun was rising, as the Vilguls hit the village. The first few villages died quickly, as they were mere farmers. Their friends and family went running to the village to send word of the attack. The captain had to stop his men from chasing them down.

"Remember the objective. The louder we are, the more likely we draw the one who ran away home." He commanded.

As word spread through the village, the Vilguls could not believe what they were seeing. Instead of fleeing into the woods, the villagers gathered in a single structure in the village center. Those who could not fight taking shelter inside, as the warriors surrounded it to protect those inside. This was going to be easier than they thought.

While this was going on, another ship had landed near the wreckage. A small ship, carrying a band of ten humans. Terralia watched from the treeline, not sure if she should approach or not, as two entered the wreckage to investigate. As they came out of the ship, the rest left the safety of their own ship to meet with those who had investigated the wreck.

"Jacob!" Terralia called from the treeline.

"Stand down." Jacob ordered as the other men brought their rifles up towards the noise. "That ones friendly."

"We were investigating the wreckage when these aliens attacked. They have four arms, orange skin and are larger than any other species I've seen. They left in the direction of my village." Terralia blurted, in a mild panic.

"That sounds like Vilguls." One of Jacob's men said.

"Load up." Jacob ordered. "We are hunting Vilguls.

"Be careful!" Terralia warned. "They killed my warriors without any effort at all."

"We are aware of them." Jacob reassured her. "We will be fine."

As the crew finished loading up, they met Jacob at the treeline. Once they all gathered, Jacob spoke. "I know these woods well. I will be moving fast to catch up with the Vilguls before they do too much damage to the village. Stay close or you will get lost.

Sprinting through the woods with his team in tow, they made it to the village in a fraction of the time the Vilguls took to make the same trip. Several warriors around the village center had already been slain. Their mangled corpses laying around the Vilguls, who were toying with several more. The sniper of Jacob's team climbed a watchtower, setting up as over-watch as the rest of the team proceeded towards the Vilguls.

One village warrior was on the ground, a Vilgul standing on each arm, ensuring he could not defend himself, as the leader brought his club up with an evil grin.

Jacob's gunshots cracked through the still air, as the Vilgul standing on one of the warriors arms dropped. The rest scattered, recognizing the sound of gunshots. The rest of the team open fired as they fled for cover, in total four of the six had been killed before they made cover. Jacob and his team then approached the village warriors.

"How bad is it?" Jacob asked.

"Ten dead here, we also sent a team to the wreckage to investigate that has not returned." One warrior informed Jacob.

"That team is dead, except for Terralia." Jacob updated him.

"That makes fifteen dead then." The warrior said solemnly.

As Jacob talked with the warrior, one of the remaining Vilguls had circled around, and came out from behind a building behind the team. Charging in with a weapon in each hand, The Vilgul had intended to slaughter all the humans before they even knew he was there. The sniper killed him before he even made it within range, dropping the corpse behind the team who barely reacted. They had, after all, turned their back to entice that kind of an attack.

"It could take a while to find the last one in the village." Jacob's comrade pointed out.

"The warriors could help search." The village warrior offered.

"No, they would just pick your warriors off, or worse go after the villages in the shelter. I have a better idea," Jacob replied, grabbing his radio, he walked away from his team, throwing his assault rifle to the ground. "All men stand down."

Pulling short spear and a shaft off of holders on his back, Jacob screwed the two together, making a long spear. He then called out loudly. "Vilgul, You have to know you are going to die here! However, I know your kind likes a good fight. Come out and face me, I will give you a fight with my spear."

"Your men will shoot me as soon as I step out." The Vilgul called back.

"I have ordered them to stand down. You will have your fight." Jacob reassured.

"Do we shoot him when he comes out?" One of Jacob's men asked their lieutenant quietly.

"No. He ordered us to stand down." The Lieutenant replied.

"He really want's to fight a Vilgul hand to hand?" The soldier asked.

"You know why he was given a captain rank as soon as he joint the XIV Regiment?" The lieutenant asked, chuckling.

"No?" The soldier replied.

"His name carries that much weight." Came the reply. "That is Jacob, the Viscous."

"Oh come on, that is a myth." The soldier replied in disbelief.

"I thought so too. However, apparently not. You are looking at a man who killed fifteen Vilguls on Sade 57 with nothing but a rock in a sock." The lieutenant said.

The men stared in disbelief at that information, as the Vilgul leader came out to face Jacob. Equipping a large shield in his left two arms, and a sword and club in his right two arms, the Vilgul squared off against Jacob.

Opening his mouth to speak, Jacob cut him off with a thrust of the spear, aiming straight for his face. Knocking the spear to the side with the shield, Jacob spun the spear, striking the side of the shield with the back in, trying to knock the shield out of the Vilguls hands. Failing to do so, Jacob shoved the shaft into the torso of the Vilgul several times. The force of the blows causing the Vilgul to loosen his grip on the shield, Jacob was then able to strike the shield again, knocking it out of his enemies hands.

Spinning the spear so the blade was in the front again, Jacob trust again, this time aiming for the torso. Knocking the spear away with his sword, the Vilgul swapped the club to the left hand, swinging it towards Jacob. Blocking the blow with the shaft of the spear, Jacob was knocked back at least five feet, before stumbling back another couple steps to regain his balance.

The Vilgul had charged at Jacob at that point, swinging his sword in an effort to decapitate Jacob with one swing. Ducking the Sword, Jacob swung the shaft of his spear, catching him in the wound the warrior had given him on his leg earlier. The force of the blow easily buckled the leg of his enemy, who, for a moment, dropped his guard. Swinging the tip of the spear in the helmet, Jacob knocked it off his opponents head, causing another deep wound to the face of the Vilgul. Pulling the spear back, Jacob thrust again, aiming for the face of his opponent.

Knocking the spear away with both weapons, the Vilgul punched Jacob in the stomach. All the air left his body, even as his armor absorbed most of the blow. Nearly losing his grip on his spear, Jacob tightened his grasp on it, as the Vilgul got up and body checked him back. Landing on his back, Jacob rolled away from his opponent who had charged him. Drawing his sidearm, Jacob took aim.

Six shots fired from his sidearm, one in to each of the limbs of his opponent. Collapsing to the ground dropping his weapons, the Vilgul looked up just in time to see Jacob shoving the spear at his face. Grabbing the shaft of the spear with all four hands, he managed to stop the spear after it had dug through his cheek and pressed to the back of his throat. Stepping forward, Jacob jumped off the arm of the Vilgul, kicking him in the face as he rose. The force of the kick loosened his grip on the shaft slightly, then with the added force of gravity, Jacob was able to drive the spear all the way down through the body of the Vilgul. As the tip left the butt of his opponent, Jacob drove it into the ground, pinning him in place.

A few minutes of struggling was futile, before the Vilgul succumbed to the wound, going limp.

"I was wondering if you were going to use your sidearm." One of Jacobs men said.

"Didn't really need it, but the fight was dragging on to long." Jacob replied.

The village cleaned everything up, gathering their fallen to honor them with ceremony. Jacob and his men lingered on the outskirts of the village for a bit, Jacob catching up with the villagers, Terralia among them. Just as he was about to depart, Terralia asked him about the slogan from the ship, also printed on the chest of Jacob's armor.

"It's the slogan of the XIV Regiment." Jacob informed her. "A mercenary group I joined after leaving here."

"I don't care what the other species say." One elder said to him. "You, and your kind are always welcome here. This is only our second encounter with humans, and we have been helped tremendously both times. Other species clearly only fear you as they are looking for a fight."

"I appreciate that. I will spread the word through the other human fleets." Jacob replied. "There are so few places we can stop with the reputation of our species."

With their final goodbye's said, Jacob and his team left the planet once again. Wondering if his business was truly done, or if fate would bring him back to this place yet again. Only time would tell.

#writeblr #writer things #writers on tumblr #writing #Jacob the Vicious #humans are space orcs #space orcs #tw violence #chapter 2

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mistertiberius · 1 year ago

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> I do not own any of the slashers/fandoms that I write for (except my Yautja oc's)

> Works that do not feature a gender neutral reader will be labeled

> Order of works is from oldest to newest

When The Monsters In Your Head Say Hello

Your eyes slid over to the revolver that Bo had angrily discarded onto the dining table when he’d stormed in, Bo’s gaze following your stare to the firearm. He snorted, stepping aside and making a grand gesture at it. “Be my fuckin’ guest, just one less sad sack 'a shit ta carry around.” The man spat, the words only hardening your resolve.

You Get What You Give

With your task complete, you headed inside to brainstorm ideas for your apology. You ultimately settled on making him a nice lunch, the man usually stopped by the house at around one in the afternoon, heading to his room to do whatever before coming down to fix himself something to eat.

I'm Happiest When I'm Next To You

“Bring it in Bo, the invalid wants some hugs.” You held your arms out, wiggling your fingers invitingly. The man huffed and puffed like it was some sort of big sacrifice for him, but he pushed away from the counter without any need for coaxing, stomping over to where you were patiently waiting while doing his best impression of a grumpy toddler and embracing you. His grip was tight, but not painfully so.

No More Mr. Nice Guy

“Wow. No need to be a bitch. No wonder he’s cheating on you.” The man scoffed and your vision flooded red, your body moving before your mind could catch up and remind you that swinging wasn’t a good idea. Your knuckles connected with his face with an audible crunch that was incredibly satisfying, borderline spiritually healing.

I See The Rest Of My Life In Your Eyes

“How long have you been sittin’ there?” Bo grumbled, his grip on the tongs flexing in a rare show of nerves. “Long enough to know that you are definitely a housewife.” You snort, elated when Bo made an affronted noise and pointed the utensil in his hand at you in a threatening manner. “I ain’t no damn housewife.” He growled, eyes narrowed.

Are You A Man Or A Monster

A shadow passed over the grate above where the woman sat, drawing you gaze to the object just in time to see what looked like a boot hit the metal with a bang that made Bo’s plaything violently flinch and shut the fuck up. Her sudden silence was the least of your worries, dread settling heavy in your stomach because you would recognize Bo’s boots anywhere. “Fuck.” You hissed, twisting to glance at the door. There was no way that you would be able to get out, lock the door, and get upstairs in time before Bo found you. “I’m so fucking dead.” You lament, accepting your inevitable fate.

You Are Loved More Than You Know | Female Reader

“You.” Bo snarled, one of his hands seizing your neck tight enough to be uncomfortable without actually choking you -and the restraint that he displayed was far more intimidating than if he had just strangled you like he clearly wanted to- dragging you closer until your nose brushed his. “The fuck were ya thinkin’? Huh?” He demanded, his grip faltering when you winced. “They were going to get away.” You muttered, unable to hold direct eye contact for long. However, when your gaze eventually slid away from his predatory stare, it was forcefully drawn back to Bo when his fingers began to squeeze, only letting up once you were looking at him again.

Sometimes Just Hearing Your Voice Is All I Need | Reader with Reverse Slope Hearing Loss (RSHL)

Bo’s ego made it difficult for him to do anything that his mind perceived as humiliating and, unfortunately, raising his pitch when he spoke fell into that category. With that said, you didn’t take his reluctance to alter his voice personally, especially when there were moments like this where he swallowed his pride. Bo was learning sign language from both you and Vincent in his free time as an alterative method of communication for fuck’s sake, so it’s not like he wasn’t trying to accommodate you to the best of his ability. However, Lester didn’t have any qualms about pitching his voice a few octaves higher so you could simply listen to him ramble on. And then there was Vincent, who didn’t talk in the normal sense, preferring to converse with you and his siblings via sign language.

Where Darkness Dwells Masterlist

“If any of you mess with me in an effort to alleviate your crippling inferiority complex this weekend, I’ll make sure this road trip of yours goes down in history as an unsolved mystery.” You deadpanned, leveling Willow and Ozzie in particular with a dead stare that always made people uncomfortable. Now was no different, the two egotistical idiots bristling even as they avoided your vacant eyes.

#house of wax #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #slasher x reader #slashers x reader

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raven-artz · 4 months ago

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OKAY GUESS WHO DREW (and wrote) THIS STUFF FOR THREE DAYS STRAIGHT? Anyway enjoy this new post with my girl's characteristics, physical features, and personality yippieeee

I didn't count exactly, but there's like about a thousand words about her under the cut, so just warning you guys 😔

⚠️ Mention of blood, injection, poisoning, alcohol, drugs, death and vomiting (not as awful as it could be, but it can be unpleasant!)

Physical data and notes:

Pronouns are he/she, towards herself uses "she" or "I, me, myself" but don't mind to be referred to as "he". Tomboy, but doesn't feel the need to be a male (I don't know how to explain it properly, sorry)

Age fifteen to nineteen (I'm still thinking about it), essentially still in his teens.

Wiry, flexible but angular body (remember the long teen cat joke), lean build, masculine body type, height 135 cm.

Euge's weight varies by 30 to 45 kg, but his normal weight to body proportions should be a MINIMUM of 50-55 kg.

Long, unevenly colored fur, fluff covers his entire torso from the front, noticeable on his elbows, knees, and cheeks. His haircut is always disorderly.

He has scars all over his body, but I haven't drawn them yet because I'm thinking about where to place them.

Ears are sensitive, mobile, susceptible to loud or unnatural sounds.

Body movements are sharp and precise.

Eugene's voice is clear and expressive, but quiet (androgynous or unintelligible type).

Accelerate by feline standards (although he looks like an Oriental cat compared to, say, Blaze's body proportions, I don't think he has any breed affiliation, BUT his look was based on Russian Blue and Siberian cat :] ).

Specifies and Experience:

Tech, specializes in repairing the running gear of cars, bikes and airboards.

Can drive cars, airboards, bikes, trucks and buses.

Knowledgeable in medicine, about the level of a nurse, but no formal training.

Knows how to use technology (like a PC or phone) better than the average user, but very far from a hacker.

Good at singing and drawing, but it's not something he'd rather talk about.

Actually a total humanitarian, but he was lucky enough to be taught physics and math, so he's good at it.

In general, can be a good therapist despite his own mental health issues😔.

Can play acoustic guitar, knows chords and basic music notation. Sometimes picks up tunes by ear.

Sewing, knitting, good cook.

Knows plumbing and electrical. Changing the siphon under the sink and changing burnt wires is not a problem for him.

Skills and Combat Experience:

Combat skills mostly gained on a couple not-so-legal jobs, also when fighting robots.

Possesses the ability to sense, accumulate, and manipulate any ebergy type, be it electricity, chaos control, nuclear, or biological (living creatures, earth, plants and the energy they produce when growing and moving). Hides this ability well and uses it when absolutely necessary or accidentally shows it when strongly emotional, as controlling it takes a lot of his energy.

Psionic, has many talents, but half of them are unknown. At the time of his adolescence, he can control people's emotions and compel the weak-minded.

Eugene's body rejects any poison. If you inject this in, the liquid may start to protrude through his skin or simply fail to penetrate. If you poison food, his body will give it back out within a short time. If it's gas, it may burn his respiratory tract, but it won't poison him. If it's alcohol, the body will also give it back. If you do manage to inject him with a poison/drug, his body will fight like a fever: cold sweats, vomiting, fever temperature, rapid heartbeat, sometimes nose or throat bleeding. If it is a drug, he's may hallucinate and delirium, but it will not have the same effect as on a normal person. With proper hydrating and nutrition he will recover quickly.

Good with firearms, sniper's eye. Possesses two hands when shooting. Owns three handguns, one Colt Mustang Pocketlite (for self-defense, carries under his clothes), one Strike one (or rather, a pistol based on that design), and one Walther P99Q (it has such a cool design hoouh). The best of the carbines will be able to handle the "Saiga M3" because of its size and less recoil. In terms of maintenance and handling it is best with the "Barret M82" sniper rifle, but won't be used often due to its bulky size.

His combat knowledge and techniques are not as well developed as Sonic's or Shadow's, but this is compensated for by his attentiveness, agility, logic, and quick thinking in combat situations. Euge is quick to learn additional ways to fight.

When threatened, he's rarely will fight back, usually trying to avoid trouble or will threat you with a weapon. If you manage to challenge him to a face to face fist fight, he will proceed cautiously, study you, and try not to attack first. Thanks to his medical knowledge, Eugene knows where the main pain points are and tries to hit rarely but accurately, but sometimes lacks strength and experience in hitting.

Ideals and Opinions:

He holds personal conclusions and opinions about government, law enforcement, and civil rights. Bases his views on personal, rather bitter experiences and observing the system of government from the outside.

Very incomplete and disjointed notions of honor and conscience, but somehow he manages to adhere to notions of morality.

Supports the principle of "an eye for an eye" or "instant retribution", but is not enthusiastic about revenge.

Fine with murder and violence if someone deserved it, though avoids doing it himself if possible.

Character:

When interacting as a stranger he will react acutely or dangerously to irritants, is embittered, teasing and manipulative when communicating, and doesn't let a single word pass without complementing it with sarcasm and snide remarks. Will put himself above others and inflate his ego. This should work to repel you when you try to show him undue attention. IF you will be patient, polite, friendly and observe enough, it won't take long to notice that he has a patient, polite, quiet and non-confrontational nature. But that doesn't mean he will be soft with you. Acrimony will be his weapon in trying to alienate you for fear of betrayal, fear of getting close and loving and then losing you like so many others. If you eventually break through walls, that he has erected for fear of hurting someone, earn his attention and trust, Eugene will prove to be a gift from heaven: charming and kind, understanding in conversation, supportive at every moment, attentive to your preferences.

He's aroace, and will therefore be attached to you as a family member, soulmate or friend. Does not show interest in romance or falling in love, but is aware of the concept and is adept at recognizing any type of relationship. When in the mood, may tease and accidentally create a flirtatious effect, but it doesn't happens on purpose and Euge hates it.

Some facts about Eugene to help you better understand his nature:

Doesn't like to be touched, but it all depends on the situation.

Inculcated an inferiority complex, accepts as true that differences from the standard type of appearance such as scars, disproportionate body or face, altered limbs and mutation disgust others and attract too much attention, so hides scars, body and face with baggy clothes, bandages and such.

He's knows English, Russian, and a little bit of Spanish and German. Russian is the best, he's perfect in it, verbally and in writing. English is slightly worse, but it is mostly felt only verbally, with accidental stiff and weird pronunciation. Euge's embarrassed by it, so he's quiet and taciturn. Spanish is mostly on ear, interjections, greetings, pronouns and some simple word combinations (like "go to break" "it's bad" "help me please" "I can/can't", etc.), which he understands by sound (some unfamiliar words he can also guess by ear), in writing he can't speak at all, shy to say something verbal. German is the worst, literally a couple sentences and greetings by ear, he knows this language coincidentally.

Usually smells like rusty iron, dust and fresh earth, if he brushes his fur and showers he smells like buckwheat honey and pine board. Rarely when perfume is applied will bring out the scent of apple blossoms and notes of cinnamon.

Have good experience in handling and caring for children of all ages, pets and farm livestock. Despite this, dislikes children up to about 12 years of age.

When awake, his coat is always slightly raised and fluffed up, making him look a bit bigger, healthier weight and stronger. This indicates that Euge is always tense. When he falls asleep or relaxes, his ears become floppy and his fur is smoothed out.

Rarely falls into a deep sleep, sleeping sensitively and nervously. Wakes up from any noise, often sleeping much less than it should. Occasionally (in deep sleep), sleeptalking and may spoke on conscious topics. Often suffers from nightmares, can damage the environment when awakening from it.

Sensitive smellsight and hearing, good eyesight (+ night vision) and he often suffers by city gases, because a keen sense of smell, and wears a gas mask all the time.

Prone to anorexia (his body does it on its own, Eugene himself can't handle the reactions) due to nervousness and lack of quality food. Likes heavy, nutritious and rich foods like meat, beans, mushrooms, peas, buckwheat, wheat, etc., but unfortunately can rarely afford them. Generally unpretentious in food, thinks that something like pineapples on a pizza or olives weird but edible. He have a craving for creamy-sweet-salty, can stir his milk with sugar and salt to a fierce taste, likes salted caramel and nougat, you can say that this is his favorite type of sweets.

Adheres to a healthy lifestyle based on his own experience of unwanted interactions with addicted people. He is afraid to panic and disgusted of people who are drunk or on something, but if he sees that such a person needs help, he will provide it. (Disclaimer: I'm not judging anyone for their life choices or circumstances, this was written for purpose of characterization of Eugene's life choices.)

That's all for this time, thank you for reading and goodbye!

#my oc #my oc facts #my art #my oc art #sonic characters #shadow the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #⬅️ mentioned

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i-heart-yellowstone · 6 months ago

Text

42 - Family Business

Part 43

Raised Fair Share of Hell

Please leave comments ❤️

Faith’s pov

I groaned slightly stretching out my arms but not opening my eyes yet trying to get comfortable and go back to sleep until my phone started ringing off with notifications causing me to shoot upright awake at the sounds. Reaching over to Cooper’s nightstand table I snatched my phone seeing that it must have been dead and he put it on his charger for me because I received 20 missed calls and nearly 30 text messages from members of my family or the bunkhouse gang all asking where I was and If I had been kidnapped by someone.

“Shit, shit, shit. Cooper. Cooper! - what the hell?” Scrambling out of the bed I tossed the blanket off flinging opened his trainer door only to see a bunch of the oil crew guys and Cooper look like they're about to fight.

“Faith, stay on the steps.” Cooper raised his hand back towards me walking down the small steps of the trailer seeing two Mexican guys walking over to us. “I know you?”

“You're about to, motherfucker.” The first guy raised a fist punching him right across the face where his red ball cap fell off his head. Cooper and the two guys start fist fighting the other until Cooper throws one down on the ground holding him by his throat and the other guy draws out a gun.

I screamed seeing the firearm. “Cooper, gun!”

“Let him go!” The first guy shouted seeing my boyfriend had the other guy on the ground in a choke hold.

“Get this motherfucker off me!”

“I'll break his fucking neck.” Cooper threatens.

“shoot him!” The guy on the ground begs.

Cooper tightens his grip on the guys throat not backing down. “I'm about to put this son of a bitch to sleep, then you can shoot me and spend the rest of your life in prison. But you won't make it long, you don't hit hard enough.”

“Oh, shit, you fucking killed him?” The second guy on the ground began closing his eyes nearly losing consciousness.

“Not yet, but I'm fixing to.” Cooper shouted up at him. “Put the fucking gun down!”

“Let him go!” The first guy demanded still aiming the handgun at him.

“Put the fucking gun down, I'll let him go.” Cooper said another time.

“You ain't making the fucking rules!” The guy holding the gun shouted.

Coming down the steps I called my boyfriend’s name. “Cooper - agh!” The gun with the gun grabbed me quickly, holding me against his chest. I gulped feeling the cold barrel of the gun to my head.

The rest of the workers began coming out of their trailers hearing the commotion going on outside. Cooper got up, dropping the unconscious guys body on the dirt. “Faith! - You want to fight? Let's fucking fight!” He charged at the guy holding me when I kicked him in the nuts with one of my legs. Running in the opposite direction I watched my boyfriend tackle the guy to the dirt, snatching the gun up that he had dropped onto the ground.

A black guy came through the crowd seeing what was happening outside chuckling at the two guys on the dirt. “That MMA sure did fick up a street fight, didn't it?”

Cooper reached inside his pocket waving his wallet down in the guy's face. “You want my wallet now, motherfucker? Huh? Come take it. And if you ever lay a hand on my girlfriend again I’ll put your ass on the ground again.”

“They was our cousins.” The first guy got up further dirt.

“Who's your cousins?” Cooper asked moving to stand in front of me protectively

The second guy snapped back, finally waking up. “Your whole fucking crew. Now they dead

and you still standing here. How's that happen? How's that well blow and burn up my whole family and you ain't got a scratch?”

“I don't know how.” Cooper softly explained feeling my hand touch his forearm holding the handgun. “They sent me to the truck

for a pipe wrench. Woke up in the dirt. It was raining fucking fire. I got no idea what happened.”

The black guy who was obviously the boss taking the handgun from Cooper’s hand eyeing the two men when he asked. “We good?”

"We good"? fuck is that supposed to mean?” The first guy got in his face.

Cooper explained shifting his gaze to the other two guys. “I don't want to be

looking over my shoulder every time I come back to my trailer.”

“You should be doing that anyways.” The second guy warned him.

Cooper asked a second time. “But are we good?”

“You ain't got no problem with us.” The second guy said walking away with the other guy.

The big boss chuckled, holding out the handgun. “Pretty fancy moves, worm.”

“I wrestled at Tech.” Cooper replied.

“No shit.” His boss smiled. “That's gonna come in

pretty handy around here.”

Cooper shook his head looking over at me still standing behind him. “I ain't trying to get in no gunfights.”

“But sometimes those gunfights trying to get to you. You Tommy Norris's boy, ain't you?”

“Yes, sir.” He nodded. “Cooper and this is my girlfriend Faith.”

The boss responded. “Had a pretty rough first week.”

“Second week's not starting much better.” Cooper sighed heavily.

“Well, listen. This ain't the last time you're gonna see somebody get burned up around here, or thrown off a rig, or electrocute themselves, or any other ways

death got for us out here. Devil cooking up new ways every day.” The boss started to walk away but paused looking over his shoulder eyeing me closer. “You said her name’s Faith. Does that make her Faith Dutton?”

Brushing hair out of my eyes I answered back. “Yes, sir. Why do you ask?”

“There’s a missing person report out for you. You must be pretty important to someone. And it looks like they just found you.” The black guy walked away the minute a truck came barreling into the area. Cooper and I ran off to the side watching it slam it’s breaks before the passenger door got thrown open.

“Faith! There you are. We thought you had been kidnapped.”

“Caroline.” I gasped not expecting to see her. “Wait what do you mean by we?”

The back seat door got pushed open and Cooper’s father got out shouting towards the person in the driver's seat. “I told you she was here and she’s not harmed. Now please let me go. I have to pick up my crazy ex wife from the airport .”

“Dad, what’s going on here?” Cooper asked, confused.

Tommy stared at me , pointing his index finger at the truck. “This crazy fucker broke into my house and shoved me against the wall. He demanded to know why your sister and I kidnapped his rodeo buddy which is your fucking girlfriend!”

The driver door finally got slammed shut and I instantly recognized the cowboy coming towards me. “Travis, what the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m looking for you. Your family has been trying to get into contact with you for almost 48 hours. I needed to make sure this boyfriend of yours didn’t fucking hurt my little Montana Rodeo Queen.”

Rolling my eyes I hated that nickname he had given me. “You know how much I despise that nickname.”

“Why weren’t you answering your phone, Faith!” Travis stomped over to me.

Holding up my phone in my other hand showing him the screen. “It died last night when we fell asleep. I didn’t think my parents would lose their mind if I didn’t call them one night while I’m at college.”

“When the niece of the former Governor of the state and the daughter of the Livestock Commissioner goes missing that causes enough panic that you should always call your parents!”

Cooper shoved his ball cap back onto his head hearing what the cowboy had just said. “What is he talking about?”

“I’ll explain everything later.” I glanced over in his direction grabbing my former trainer by his arm and into Cooper’s trailer with my roommate following us inside and locking the door.

Cooper dropped his hands at his sides with his mouth hanging open in shock. “What the fuck just happened. Did you know that about her family?”

“Oh look at that, your sister and I have to get to the airport. Ainsley come on!” Tommy hollered helping his daughter out of the backseat of the vehicle and the pair borrowed one of his friend's work trucks to avoid having that conversation with Cooper.

Tag list @bvbwestfall @hcwthewestwaswcn @child-of-of-the-sunshine @elenavampire21 @keep-the-wolves-close @kmc1989 @tallrock35 @whatelsecouldgowrong @lover-of-books-and-tea

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famouskidpainter · 2 years ago

Text

Terrifying Wrath

Call of duty modern warfare 2

Included characters: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick, Simon 'Ghost' Riley,John 'Soap' MacTavish, John Price

Warning: Violence and mention of violence

Pov: Second point of view

You were a gunsmith who has repaired, customized, modified, designed, and even built many various types of firearms for Task141 for many years. You were known for your skills, dedication, commitment, and hard-work during your time surveying as well as always having your face concealed behind a hyottoko mask-causing many recruits and some of Task141 to wonder what your face might look like without the mask-but you're far more well-known for one thing and that is..your short yet utterly terrifying temper, making the toughest and hardest solider in the base to tremble in fear.

Price:

He highly respects and admires your work and dedication as well as hard-work.

Every so often, he would stop and pop by your workshop to merely say hi and see how you're doing or to just simply leave a plate of food on your desk as you often attend to forget to take care of yourself due to getting caught up with work.

When you're not working on something in your workshop, you and Price would usually go to a nearby Cafe and talk about whatever and enjoy a coffee with one another, but you didn't speak a whole lot and he didn't mind at all if you didn't speak as he also attends to not speak alot often, preferring to merely listen. So, you both would just simply drink one another's coffee in comfortable silence as people chattering in the background filled the Cafe.

You both have a modest and good relationship due to spending time and working alongside one another for many years. He may or may not know what your face looks like ;)

And..he knows of your infamous temper as he experienced first-hand..Due to losing a firearm you built for him after a mission in the Artic back in his younger years.

Let's just say..he learned to take extra care of the firearms you delivered to him till to this very day.

"YOU DAMN UTTER FOOL! HOW DARE YOU LOSE MY PRECIOUS COLT M-4 SOPMOD! DON'T YOU KNOW HOW LONG IT TOOK ME TO MAKE YOU THAT KIND OF FIREARM!?" You roared, jabbing your index finger against Price's cheek with brutal force. "Owowowowow! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-" Price tried to explain himself, but was promptly cut off by you now screaming in his ear, nearly causing his eardrums to bleed. "DIDN'T MEAN TO?! DIDN'T MEAN TO MY ASS! YOU RUINIED A MONTH'S WORK!" You proceeded to jab your index finger against his cheek, but with more force than before while chewing him out alive.

Later, Laswell was able to calm you down after buying and giving you your favorite food, mitarashi dango-Price was mentally thanking whichever God in his head as Laswell unknowingly or knowingly saved his ass that day.

Laswell sometimes would tease Price referring to the incident and he would go silent as his face turns a bright shade of red of embarrassment.

He even shudders at the mere memory of it, praying that he doesn't relive that incident again. But, his prayers weren't heard as..one day, he again lost a firearm of yours during a mission.

Soap:

He also respects and admires your work and dedication as well as hard-work.

He would come and barg in your workshop, almost daily..Much to your dismay.

He would also stand beside you beside you while you worked on repairing or building a firearm as well as constantly asking you questions of every little thing you do..You remember the many times you had forcefully kicked out Soap from your workshop as you couldn't work in peace without him getting on your neck.

He has drawings and doodles of you in his sketchbook..Not exactly as he would normally use or make assumptions on how your face looks like without the mask due to that he has never seen you without it.

And..He also knows of your infamous temper..As he may or may not have lost or damage far to many firearms to the point where he had to beg you on his knees to make him another because he either lost or damaged it.. He still remembers the letter you sent him and it wasn't entirely pleasant..

"Hey Ghost, has Y/n come by as I'm still waiting for that new gun." Soap said, folding his arms over his chest as he stood in front of Ghost's desk. "Hmm..they did and they told me to give this to you." Ghost responded back as he placed his pen down on top of the slightly scattered papers, reaching down and pulling open a drawer from his desk and taking out an envelope from within it, handing it to Soap. "Thanks.." Soap stated, grabbing the envelope from Ghost and opened it. After Soap pulled the letter from the envelope and read it, he stared at the letter with a nervous and terrified expression as bits of sweat began to form on his forehead. "What does it say?" Ghost asked, briefly glancing up from the paperwork on his desk while continuing to fill them out. Soap didn't responded back as he merely stared at the letter in his hands before finally being able to speak once again.

"Hey Ghost..do you happen to know what is y/n's favorite food?"

It took a lot of convincing, begging and mitarashi dango to get you to forgive Soap and to give him a new firearm..after giving him a threat if he even lost or broke it, then you'll make sure to make his death slow and painful as well as appearing like a mere accident.

He promised that he wouldn't break or lose it..he hoped that you wouldn't do exactly what you threatened to do to him as he might of lost it..again.

*Pretend it says "I have no gun for you".*

I'll make a part 2, but with Gaz and Ghost. Please be patient with me and have a good day/night.

#call of duty #soap x male reader #price x male reader

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blowingsand · 5 months ago

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Dark chocolate

Mihawk x reader

Firearms x swords

Blood, bad language, heavy (?) intimacy, gore.

Dead dove

Maybe some NSFW

Minors,pls, get out.

Male reader. (You can see as gn also)

Continuation of Blood roses 🌹

You breathe fresh air from morning after being attacked, you find problems to sail far from your destroyed ship to search for help. As soon as you put your feet in the sand, you notice the presence.

He is here, hawk eyes are here.

You gasp and look around, a fine island with a castle and many.... ghosts around here, not the spirits or the souls, but all memories and desires that people leave behind when dies. After some walk, you were close to some ruins, nothing new to you, calm, cold, some echoes from the past, and you were alone, not a single alive person nearby. That makes you comfortable in a certain way, at least no enemy, and there was some medicine around ruins and many herbs and roots you could find some use to.

You walked more into the forest, marking some trees and breaking some branches to show you the way back. The echoes were clear; a father talks to her daughter, "and the yellow root, Camblia facinallis, are poisonous, but within 3 grams boiled in salted water can remove the toxins and become an exceptional tea for headaches." The voices fade away. You took some root with you and pass from the next tree You heard the voices, and then your the next one, soon you had enough for your crew to sail safe to some island with a doctor.

You took some time in your walk. Back to the ruins to collect the non perecible med kit, you also found some ammunition, perfect for your guns. "Why not take a rest now? The crazy swordsman must be in the castle at this hour. It's almost night." Also, some stupid idea, "I wanna relax now," you think,"will be shooting those bad fruits. " Soon, you'll realise how bad that mistake was.

After putting all the apples and lemons in a line, you start to draw and shoot the fruits. The ammunition was as new. You were happy, and you lost nothing of your potential, perfect aim, and control of the trigger. "Thanks, I know I'm good." You laughed and wave to the imaginary audience. "Maybe I should show more." You trow several oranges up and shot all at one. One bullet did all the service. That's the one thing you're good for, using guns, don't matter which, if it's blades or pistols, you were born for that.

Were... you were the best, but lose in swords to a man, and never has the courage to touch a sword to fight again. Tears rolled in your " What if someone beats me in shooting? Well, I guess I die then." Maybe it was time to make it. You draw the sword and point to some poor watermelon, you cut in four easily, then cut again each piece in four again.

What should be your next oponente? That pike of tomatoes, each one cut in half in less time than never. Next, the pears, then more oranges and mellons. You feel free.

Free, really free. "So it's it, what you spirits and the man sitting in that stone think about my show?" You stop and analyse every word you just said. What? You look back and lose your breath and colours.

"It was impressive, I must admit. But against a real oponente, what can you do?" He takes his blade on hands. "It seems you think about our last conversation, the one about honour in the battlefield. "

You hold your sword with the dominant hard and draw the pistol with the other. "I think I don't learn nothing. You're strong, ha, more than anyone in the seas, then where is the honour fighting with us? You know it, don't you? You know you can't lose."

"Intersting observation. But I don't see where the fighting fair is not honourable." He prepares Yoru.

"It's just a hunting game for you, not a duel. Moron." You point your pistol to his chest. "Come and I'll hunt you this time."

"Let's see then."

You shot first, and then he attacked. Hawkeyes send your bullet back, the one you cut easily, but let your chest open to his second hit. You jump back and find the higher ground in some rocks, then try to create a solid plan.

"You are not bad. If at least fight fair." He mocks

"Say the Spanish pimp with a sword bigger than him to none approach you." You mock back and see his expression become harder.

"It's only my strategy to win." He give it back

"And guns are mine!" You shoot him twice.

He just stepped aside and blocked the projectiles as it was nothing. Then, let the left leg free to be cut open. You find that weak point, reload your gun with three more bullets and jump to him cutting high, he defend, and you give several high and low onslaught, two high and one low. So he put you to defend and start his sequence.

So you back to attack when you shot in his eye, and Mihawk needed to defend that haki bullet. You keep your sequence two high to one low.

Except for the last line, one high and two down, the subit change took the swordsman unprepared. He loses a bit of posture to rearrange his defence, but that less than half second was what you expected. You just stuck your gun in his chin and pull the trigger.

"That's for my dead comrades, your... your..." You think a good insult fit that man, but he is perfect. Beautiful, brave, have a good smell, and you think you're starting to like him. "Your cock sucker..." You finish.

He deviates from the bullet. You are speechless.

"I think I can consider a victory to me today."

What?

A sudden pain emerges from your abdomen. He cuts your guts when you come to close. The blood runs from the open wound. You think that's your end. Fall in your knees breathing heavily.

"What happened, little rabit? Weren't you coming to hunt me?" You could hear his joy in that low and sober voice.

"It's not finished yet. Only ends when my blood runs dry, only when my air vanishes." You groan, looking up into Mihawk golden eyes.

"So let's finish"

"No. Not today." You point your gun to his head. "I'll not let you cut me like that. If I'm going to die, it will be by my terms."

You stand, shaking, but stand. Trow the bag to the swordsman. "Take it to my ship together with my sorrow."

"And what are you doing now, werido? Just accept your defeat. "

"Only dead." You put the gun in your head. "I die by my terms, as I said."

"Don't be silly, I know you used your three bullets before."

"No, I have a least one."

"You don't have. I'll end this bullshit."

He attacks your arm. That was the final chance, you make the aim and shot the last bullet you saved to this moment.

Smell of a different blood, your pistol was cut, and the impact undo the aim, but the projectile found his leg by millimetres. It's not a real injury, but you saw his blood this time.

"I said to you, fool, I would leave this world by my own terms. You lose." You laughed

"Sweet destiny.

How sweet is to depart from this life laughing?

I will find my way through the silvery waters..."

You lay in the ground. He sits beside your body.

"So, why was that for?" He questioned.

"For my comrades that died in that ship. They trusted me to be the best."

"And at the end you were, you really was my best fight in a long time, my dear. It's a pity you chose to die here. In another life, we could even have been friends."

"In another life, we could be drinking together, we all. Eating sweet chocolate."

He caresses your face gently as a lover. "If you survive, maybe we can."

"If I survive?" You laughed good. "Look to me. Could I survive with my guts exposed like that?"

"I have a good doctor in the castle."

"You're lying"

"No, I'm not. An old friend comes with his crew these days. They have a doctor. "

You close your eyes. "I don't believe. "

"That's ok, you don't need to believe things to them be true." Mihawk runs his fingers through your lips. "People don't need to believe you to you be who you really are. Not everything can be seen by eyes. I have a doctor, you are your best."

You smile and close your eyes. "Am I?" You ask for yourself.

"You take blood from me only with strategy. Be good at things you are born to be. Don't waste your life with the dreams of others."

"I ever lived only for me. That was my mistake."

Mihawk takes you close to him, embracing you softly, and ask. "Wich fruit did you eat?"

"A hito hito no mi anata. I wanted to give it a try. I thought I could be better after all."

Also know as Shin Shin no mi.

"And you found yourself?"

"Yes, I found it."

You want to live, but you can't say loud, at the end you finally did it, got your revenge. But at what cost? "I want to live." Fuck that pride.

"Good chose." The swordsman took you and headed to the castle. "You would earn nothing ding here. Just maybe the 'otherside' ."

I think I'll give it a final chapter another day.

#mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #one piece dilfs #onepiece x reader #one piece mihawk #some agnst #Blood roses 🌹 fic #mihawk x m!reader

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