Pistol
summary: with the storm came Charles ’unfiltrered rage, and the aftermaths leave you both more distant than ever. pairing: Charles Smith x f!reader rating: mature. word count: 4.8k warnings: violence and blood. Allusion to attempted sexual assault and rape (not attempted by Charles !!!). Injuries. Mentions of shame and guilt. Nothing else to warn you about. English isn’t my first language so apologies for any mistakes. Title from the song Pistol by Cigarette After Sex (so not the same vibe but it makes sense to me lol). Charles’ pic from the very talented @colterblues who always takes insane photographs. Thank you so much for letting me use it 🤩💕. Dividers by @/dividers-are-us.
a/n: Yes it's me again, clearing my wip list a little. It's always when I am the busiest that I can't stop writing. I just wanted to try something a different for our Charles, something where we can see more of his violent side, and I wanted it angsty because it made more sense. I love a good fairy tale kinda love story, but it was very interesting to write this kind of ending for once. I hope you will enjoy the angst. Thank you to my baby @thedilfdiaries for reading my draft and for helping me decide on the moodboard, I love you so much 💙❤️✨. Thank you to @mezzaninebeetle55 for your support and for reassuring me about my Charles’ characterization, I hope it will break you lol, love you honey🫶🏼🫂
The evening sun rays pierce through the broken window, projecting Charles’ threatening shadow onto the wooden floor, within reach of your limp body lying on the kitchen’s floor. The sounds of his ragged breaths slowly stir you out of your lethargy, a sharp whimper escaping your mouth as you try to sit up.
Charles doesn’t turn around immediately, hesitating to face you, realizing only now that the copper smell of blood permeates the air of the small house and that the dark red river flowing at his feet would probably have you running away.
The images that courses through your mind should be coming straight from a nightmare. But as you grow more aware of your surroundings, you realize that it wasn’t a mirage: pistol firing, a man crawling away, brain scattered all around the place… It was real.
The little cabin sounded like the perfect idea, a couple hours ago. You and Charles had been riding for more than 2 hours, noticing the clouds growing bigger and darker in the afternoon sky. The dry path trodden by your horses’ hooves started being tainted by dark polka dots, and Charles made the call to take a path cutting through the woods. He knew a place, he explained, somewhere uninhabited in ages, where he usually stops to rest when he goes into town. You followed, holding onto your hat for dear life as the wind started to blow harder. Charles was quiet, unshakeable, leading Taima to the hitching post at the back of the house, and silently urging you to hop off your horse.
“Stay here” He muttered, picking his gun from his belt, and sliding a couple of bullets inside. He disappeared behind the house and you stood there, alone, nervously biting your lips as you noticed the first lighting striking right above the hills. The afternoon sky was split in half, and you were standing right in the middle. You prayed for this house to be the promising shelter it looked like from the outside, with the moss covering the stones and the rodents looking at you from the ajar door. At least there was no tree lying on the roof, and it seemed watertight. Another lightning struck the sky, making both of the horses neighing. You step closer to them, trying to calm them down. Taima’s agitation stopped as soon as she spotted Charles in the door frame.
“It’s clear. You can get in.” He said, stepping down. Charles had been thorough with his inspection, careful, like he always does. He checked the whole house silently, every window, every door, from the upper floor area to the hidden cellar. Any places someone could be hidden in, he checked. He wasn’t going to risk your safety.
You smiled as you passed next to him, immediately welcomed by the foul smell of humidity when you crossed the threshold. You coughed looking back at Charles who stood right behind you.
“Ain’t exactly pleasing, but I am sure after we light a fire it will be better” He said, watching as you traced the edge of the mantle with your finger. You blew on the grey dust and frowned.
“There’s nothing sweeter than the scent of rotten wood anyway” You joked, slowly acclimatizing to the room you’ll probably spend the evening in.
Charles chuckled low at the irony. You pulled out a broken chair from a corner, and sat.
“I better go get some wood before it gets worse out there. I won’t be long” He said, waiting for you to look away from the dirty dishes staining what probably used to be a sink many years ago.
“I’ll be okay. Go.” You agreed, a comforting warmth spreading inside of you as you noticed the concerned way he looked at you. Charles nodded and waited for a beat, before the heavy wooden door started closing carefully behind him.
Charles let out a heavy sigh once outside. He isn’t really fond of extending his trips unexpectedly, but this time it seemed necessary. The cold wind surprised him as he walked to Taima to grab his machete. He gave her a quick pat on the head, very grateful you rode back earlier to stop there. He doesn’t like brutal weather changes, especially for Taima, he knows it gets her very agitated sometimes, especially after a long trip. The rest was good for everyone.
The rain started falling hard not even 10 minutes after Charles got deeper into the forest. He had the time to get as many logs as he could, making sure they wouldn’t get soaked in the process. He thought about tracking a rabbit or two, but the escalation of the electric activity got him suddenly worried. Charles retraced his steps, hair and vest dripping from the rain.
He hadn’t even reached the house when he saw it. Your horse was gone. Taima was unhitched and slowly running towards him.
His eyes could never deceive him. His tracking and observation skills have always been unmatched. He had never failed. Never. Not since he was a young child, still learning how to survive in a hostile environment. He had never put anyone in danger either. But today he did. A sense of dread took possession of his body when he realized you were probably in danger. Charles took Taima’s reins and hitched her back to her spot. The loud thunder covered her weak neighs. He didn’t have the time to calm her down. This would have to wait.
He dropped the logs near the doorstep, and decided he needed to thread very carefully. He had no idea how many men were inside, if they were carrying heavy weapons with them… He pulled the machete from behind his back, and approached the side of the house. The sound of plates falling to the ground, followed by a man yelling startled him.
Charles stood there for a minute, trying to peek inside without being seen, and realized he couldn’t see you. He couldn’t hear you either. He crouched to move onto the next window, and saw two men were standing there, each carrying a pistol at their gun belt, but you were still nowhere to be seen. His heart started beating faster when he imagined you being unable to defend yourself, overpowered by the two brutes, your face frozen in fear while they beat you up, or worse. Bile started rising in his throat. He couldn’t let emotions get a hold on him. He needed clarity to try to save you.
Charles had a couple of seconds to figure out how to deal with this. Using his gun now would be too dangerous, especially since he couldn’t see you. One of the men could still be hurting you, what if his sudden appearance was what led him to shoot the final blow? If you were still alive, he couldn’t let that happen. So Charles decided on using the machete. With a neat throw, he could easily hit his first target. That should be enough to put the man down while he would be neutralizing the other one. Charles had to use the surprise at his advantage.
He got closer to the door, and kicked it open violently. The first man turned around abruptly, a curse forming in his throat. But Charles threw the machete his way. The weapon flew through the room, and hit him in the guts. The force of the blow and the shock made him step back, his hands covering the bloody cut smearing his shirt. The grave clinking sound of the metal falling on the floor accompanied Charles footsteps as he walked further in the room. The second man, the one hoovering above you, turned around and clumsily looked for his gun.
Charles was already aiming at him.
“Don’t even think about it” He warned, slowly bringing the trigger to the wall, ready to shoot him. The man raised both his hands above his head as he faced him, mumbling something about finding an arrangement.
“You won’t come out of this alive, and you better get away from her” Charles urged, nodding to the side, silently instructing him to move next to the window.
A whine coming from behind forced Charles to look away for a moment. The injured robber was crouched in the corner near the mantle, blood fusing from his stomach.
“You ain’t got the guts you bastard” He shouted at Charles, furiously.
“Oh yeah?” Charles questioned back, smirking. He waited for a single beat, and blindly shot the other man standing near the window, right in the face, rejoicing in the terror flashing in his last opponent’s eyes. The dull thud of the corpse tumbling forward echoed through the room.
“Sir… please.. I got a family” The injured man started pleading as he watched Charles glancing at the dead man coldly.
“Yeah? And why would I care about that?” Charles stated as he put his gun back in his holster.
The man took the opportunity of Charles being distracted to pat his own pockets in search for his hidden knife, and threw it his way. Charles didn’t even budge when the blade hit his thigh. He moved fast, crouching in front of the robber’s body and kicking his gun out of reach. The man looked pale, the wound still bleeding heavily. Charles peered down at him, his face emotionless. The other man kept begging for mercy, whimpering and struggling to breathe.
But mercy comes from the grace of God and good people, mercy is something estranged to men like Charles, men that had been granted by evilness since they learnt how to walk. He only knew how to hurt and punish, how to take lives and watch people expel their last breaths.
Charles pulled the knife out of his thigh, and threw it on the floor. The other man looked at the ridiculous injury, shaking his head in disbelief as he realized the fate awaiting for him.
Mercy had never been in the cards for Charles. He’ll make sure it won’t be in the cards for men like him either.
The silhouette of your limp body laid in front of the sink, finally caught Charles ‘eyes. He had been too afraid to even take a look at you. And his fear was understandable. Your pale blue dress was stained with blood, the upper part completely torn. Your face looked bruised, and Charles ‘breath caught in his chest. He clenched his fist, and stood up, slowly walking to you, cursing himself as he realized that he came in too late. You weren’t moving, he couldn’t notice the rise and fall of your ribcage through the fabric of your clothes. He should have never left.
The sudden sound of something moving on the wooden floor forced him to whip his head around. He knew the other man couldn’t be standing behind him, he wasn’t a threat anymore. And he was right. The weakened body of the coward who dared to assault you was looking for an escape. He was crawling away, smearing his blood everywhere as he drew himself a path towards the door.
Charles grabbed his leg carelessly, pulling him back to him. The other guy started to cry as he was forced to face the outlaw again.
“What did you do to her?” Charles uttered with a growl.
“Please… Please… You can take all my money.. Just …” The robber said in between sobs.
Charles punched him square in the jaw, not even wincing as his fist collided with the other man’s face, the flesh deforming instantly with the force of the blow.
“Nothing… nothing” He answered, blood running out of his nose.
“Lie to me again and I’ll make sure you’ll die slowly” Charles’ hand gripped the man’s collar and he shook him.
“I don’t wanna die” He replied, eyes wide.
“Then talk.” Charles said, unclenching his grip.
“We didn’t have the time to do anything… It’s… it’s him” He pointed out to the corpse a few feet away from him. “He just knocked her out, said it would be easier to get what he wanted from her this way… I swear I didn’t do anything to her”
Charles dropped him violently. His ears were ringing. He glanced at you one last time. Your rigid face. The smile he used to see adorning your lips is probably gone, forever.
The sound of the bullet falling in the chamber was the last thing the wounded man heard before his head exploded. Charles wiped the blood splashes off his face with his sleeve and stood up, panting.
“Charles” You whispered, weak and supplicating. Each breath you took hurt your soul. You quickly gave up on the idea of standing up when you felt the whole room turning upside down just from raising your head from the floor. Charles' eyes found yours and you saw his lips moving, as he whispered your name, before the lights turned dark and his silhouette disappeared right in front of you.
The night fell quietly a couple hours ago, but you can’t bring yourself to go to sleep. You barely closed an eye the last few days. You’re sitting by the fire, playing with the fringes of your shawl, listening to the whispers of the flames. The shadow hides most of your wounds and bruises, but you can still feel the pain. Your heart took a blow too, and the man currently standing at the edge of camp seems even further away now.
You glance down at your hands, and brush the dirt off your bandage.
You remember the feeling of Charles' strong hands washing up the dried blood from your face, your arms, your neck.
The stinging sensation followed as he faintly pressed a cloth soaked in rhum against your busted lip, the multiple cuts on your arms, the gash on your forehead.
He avenged you, and brought you back to life.
The storm was raging outside. You fell in and out of consciousness a couple of times, noticing Charles’ shadow seated right by your side. You winced as you sat up, and searched for his eyes in the darkness of the small house. But he never looked at you. You grabbed the tin mug with fresh water he set next to you earlier without a word and gulped it down.
Charles stood up as soon as you were awake and walked away. He took off his jacket and held it in front of the fire he started while you were unconscious. You frowned, surprised by his reaction. You wondered why he wasn’t looking at you, and why this sudden need to wear dry clothes. Charles wasn’t the type to be bothered by this. You’ve seen him ride through the rivers, pants completely soaked, or stand guard for hours underneath the rain, his shirt almost becoming see through. You laid back against the cupboards and the sudden coldness hitting your skin made you freeze instantly. You looked down at your chest, sobs rising in your throat as you finally noticed the state you were in. Your shirt was completely torn, and the top of your dress offered little more coverage. You wondered how the skirt was still hanging on, but somehow it did. You noticed a tiny pin holding most of the fabric together, but the skin of your breasts was showing. This makeshift shirt wouldn’t survive a ride back to camp.
“We can’t stay here” Charles finally stated. You could see his head turning your way slightly. But his eyes stayed focusing on the floor. You shifted, trying to stand up, and he hesitated to run to help you.
“Are you..” Charles started, incapable of pretending not to be concerned. He started walking away from the fireplace.
“I am okay” You coughed, holding your hand in front of you defensively. Charles stopped. You didn’t want him close. Not now that you saw the state you were in. The pin didn’t even resist you standing up. You took leverage on the wooden cabinets as best as you could. Everything hurt, and your balance wasn’t exactly your strongest suit at the moment. You threw up in the old sink, the pain shooting in your ribs and the foul smell of dead bodies too intense for you to handle.
Charles was behind you in one quick motion, his hand resting clumsily above your naked shoulder. He didn’t know if he should touch you. He decided it was best not to. He poured you another mug of water and handed it to you. You thanked him, hiding yourself as best as you could with your arms crossed on your chest.
“Here… It ain’t as dry as I was hoping but…” Charles held out his jacket to you, and turned his head towards the fire while you tried to put it on your back. You whined as you slid your arms into each sleeve, the pain almost unbearable. You closed the buttons up to your neck, grateful for the great coverage the jacket offered. It was large enough to avoid adding pressure to your bruised flesh, and long enough to cover all the blood staining your dress.
Charles put out the fire and held your arm to support you as you walked outside. The rain must have stopped at some point. Stars were shining above you and the wind was blowing gently, like a peaceful summer breeze. It smelled like wet pine needles and burnt wood. If it wasn’t for the corpses silently starting to rot inside the house, the blood drying through the cracks of floor, and the sharp pain torturing your bruising flesh, you could have been thinking it was all just a bad dream.
Charles helped you up on Taima, and you felt no shame when you whined in agony as you settled on the horse. Charles wiped his hand across his face, the guilt starting to consume him slowly.
It’s the only thing he thought about the whole ride, as you wrapped your arms around his middle and held onto him. He tried to ride slower than usual, the hissing and moans of pain you let out each time Taima’s speed was too much for you were unbearable the first couple of times. He didn’t have the heart to endure this for 3 hours. He replayed the whole scene in his head again, and again, and realized the shock you must have been in when you woke up the first time and saw him standing there with the dizzying thrill of vengeance and the thirst for blood written all over his face. The fear in your voice when you called out his name the first time… How can you stand being so close to him right now? Charles wished he could ride faster so you wouldn’t have to be in his presence anymore.
It was dawn when the two of you finally returned to camp. The girls were already awake, worried that something happened to you. They rushed by your side as soon as Charles put you down and took you back to your tent. There were questions on the tip of every tongue that morning. But neither you or Charles talked about what happened. And Charles didn’t even bat an eye when Micah commented on your “disheveled appearance” later that day at dinner, implying that of course Charles had to rough you up a little to get what he wanted from you, there was no way you would give yourself to an ugly beast like him. You would have punched him yourself if you could. The girls chimed in and asked him to shut up. Susan walked to Charles to offer him a plate, but he declined, glancing at you for a moment. Your eyes met his, but he quickly looked away. You watched him stand up and grab a rifle. His silhouette stayed planted firmly at the edge of camp for most of the night.
Just like tonight. It’s been a couple of weeks now. Charles has barely been around. As soon as he comes back from a score or a hunting trip, he walks as far away from you as possible. And not a single word had been exchanged between you two.
You had been looking for the right words day and night, in vain. You were ashamed, eaten away by the guilt of having been incapable of fending for yourself, of forcing Charles to get into such a display of rage and violence. And you knew Charles was probably afraid of approaching you for this exact reason. This distance growing between you broke your heart. Even though Charles wasn’t the kind of man to chat around a cup of tea, he warmed up to you the past few months. Supply run after supply run, you were looking forward to riding with him to town each week… but now, now you fear that Charles won’t ever ride next to you again. He’s been going with Arthur instead. You know you aren’t exactly in the right shape to help anyone right now but still… It hurts.
You need to talk to him.
Standing up on trembling legs, you walk by your tent and stop for a moment. It takes more than a couple of steps for you to get rid of the numb feeling in your muscles. You open the wooden box next to your cot, and take the little handkerchief hidden in there.
The leaves crumble underneath your boots as you take the path to the edge of camp. There is no point in rehearsing what you want to tell him. You’ll just go with the flow, but the nervousness is gnawing at you. You fidget with the fabric, eyes intensely focusing on Charles' back. He is leaning against a tree, and as you approach, his shoulders start to tense in awareness of your presence. He turns around before you can call his name.
“Good evening” You say, offering him a soft smile.
“Hey” Charles’ face scrunched up in pain unintendedly as his eyes finally set on you, the moon illuminating the fading bruises and scars across your skin.
“Quiet night?” You say, trying to keep your tone light despite the awkwardness.
“Nothing to complain about so far” He replies, letting the butt of his rifle hit the ground in front of him.
The silence sits heavy between the two of you for a long minute, before you find the courage to talk again.
“Can we… Can we talk?” Your expression is tense, and the way you are gripping the side of your dress with your free hand makes Charles nervous, but he nods, letting you cross the tree line and head for the little makeshift camp he seeks refuge in lately. You sit on the chair, and wait for Charles to take place in front of you. You know he won’t ask questions to make your job easier, so you just have to dive in.
“I made this for you” You say, unfolding the handkerchief on your knees, and smoothing the folds neatly, before handing it to him.
Charles’ hand reaches out and he holds the fabric for a moment, caressing it with the pad of his fingers.
“It’s silk” He notices, unfolding it to discover the flowery pattern you embroidered there. There is a dove flying right above the petals too. Charles nods as he traces the outline with his fingers.
“I am not very good at this… But I thought I could try to make it prettier, so it’s not just some random handkerchief. Don’t look at the bird too closely though” You say laughing softly. Charles looks at your face, reddened by the orange hue of the flames. His heart clenches when he notices the way you can’t let your lips stretch along with the lines of your smile.
“It’s beautiful. Thank you” Charles says sternly, folding the fabric again and hiding it in his pocket.
You feel the moment evaporating quicker than you expected… This gesture is… a pretext, a way to talk to him… But it’s not easy at all to break down the walls that have been building between you.
“I should go back.” Charles says as he stands up.
“Please. Don’t. Let me just… I am trying to find my words Charles but it’s not… I am just trying to understand. Is everything okay? Did I do something wrong?” You finally let out, voice strained with sadness. Tears are already forming in your eyes as you wait for his answer.
Charles is towering over you, staring at the blurry field of canvas standing far behind you. He sits back down, sighing heavily.
“That’s not…Everything is fine, you did nothing wrong” He replies, but he is avoiding your stare and you know he is just saying this to put an end to this conversation.
“Charles… Stop lying to me. You haven’t talked to me in two weeks, you don’t even look at me when we cross paths, if we cross paths, cause you haven’t spent more than 2 consecutives nights in camp… I am just trying to understand, if it’s something I said, or did, let me at least apologize…”
Charles says your name. He tries to keep his voice soft, but it comes out as a warning.
“I don’t like this…” You lose your self control as soon as you hear him. You start crying, but your tears aren’t doing anything to help your case. “Charles, please…We can try to fix this, right? Can you at least look at me?” You insist, the only thing preventing you from dropping to your knees and begging him is the weakness of your body. You might not be bowing down to him, physically, but the vulnerability you are showing right now hits just the same. Charles turns his head towards you and frowns as he notices the sadness on your face. He looks in pain, just from watching the scene you are making right now.
“Look… I mean it. This has nothing to do with you. And there is nothing to fix. It’s better this way”.
The shame is now unbearable for you. You wipe your eyes with the sleeves of your dress and stand up quickly. You almost tumble over. Charles’ arm flexes by his side and for a second you think he is gonna prevent you from falling. You thought wrong.
“Right. Everything is fine. I am sorry for bothering you… I guess… I just wanted to say thank you for rescuing me. For making sure I came back home alive. And I am sorry. About what you had to do to defend me. Now I’ll leave you alone”. You reply, voice hoarse with cries.
Charles watches as you leave, hoping for a moment that maybe you will look back, maybe you’ll run his way and yell at him, and that he’ll find a way to explain this time. But you don’t. Your silhouette fades away behind the tents. He doesn’t go back to his spot immediately, and sits by the fire instead, pondering if he did the right thing or not. He doesn’t even know how to make sense of his own feelings. He remembers the look on your face that day, your eyes slowly opening as he stood there towering over the man he just brutally murdered, the sad expression on your face, the guilt too, for forcing him to do this, to protect you. But that’s his true nature. And Charles is glad you witnessed it. You live in the same violent reality as he does but somehow got spared to be at the first row of such brutality. Because you are a woman. But that’s what he is. That’s what men like him do. He can’t ignore his true nature. And he can’t stomach to see you being afraid of him ever again. Keeping his distance is the only way to protect you both from heartbreak and disappointment.
The purple hues of dawn are starting to color the sky when Charles hears Javier walking behind him. Without a word, they swap places, and Charles walks silently back to camp. Everyone is still asleep. He needs coffee and a couple hours of sleep, then he will be on his way to the Heartlands. He hasn’t been around the area for a while, it will be nice to clear his mind. As he stops by the coffee pot, he notices you resting on your cot under the willow tree. You’re sleeping, peacefully. Charles can finally enjoy the sight of your face without seeing the fear and sorrow in your eyes. He knows that it probably will hurt for a while, but eventually he’ll breathe better knowing that he spared you the pain of living a life with someone like him by your side.
a/n: thank you so much for reading. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated 🥰
my other Charles works can be found here |
