Cover art by me, Biscuit19131
This book has oneshots for anyone and everyone. I am so sorry, this was made when I was 11-12, I'm suffering as much as you are.
P.S. This whole thing is PG-13, there is swearing and some mentions of violence, but tha...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Art by Moho-Milk-Down-and-Paper-Town
Tom's POV
The cold wall of the Good Place to Start Saloon makes my back shiver as I lean against it. My eye shifts over the room. It was a bristling cold December night, and many nocturnal citizens came in for the night. Drunken laughter echoes against the glasses of whiskey and beer that Todd cleaned with a cloth. His shifty gray eyes land on the doors of the saloon from afar. I take off my hat and run my hands through my wavy hair. I exhale, causing a plume of frost to borne from my lips.
My dull blue eye looks over at one certain person in the bar. Detective Edward Gold was playing Poker with a bunch of drunks. He was giggling excitedly as a man groans. His oily hands slam down in rage before he gets up to get another whiskey. I chuckle deeply about the man's anger as I sip from my flask. Gun resides peacefully at my hip. The tinsel of the decorated saloon weave among the rafters, and I smile.
I get up and stride through the saloon, wishing holiday cheer to the jolly customers. I felt a little lighter as I walk over to Todd's counter. He notices me and walks over calmly. A smile is clear under his caramel mustache. His white apron is getting steadily pale yellow from the whiskey he works with. I chuckle as he leans over to smile lazily at me.
"What'll it be, Sheriff?" he chuckles. His accent didn't sound American. Everyone knew of his foreign mother. Norway, he says, is where she grew up. He wants to move there some day. I just wave my hat at him.
"Drop the formalities, Todd. It's Christmas, call me Thomas. Or Tom, to make it short," I smile. He is taken aback as he blinks. His glittering silver eyes loom stricken.
"What?" I ask humorously. But, the cheery mood dies. Silence chills the saloon. Todd raises a shakey finger as he points towards the doors. I look over and nearly drop my hat, but it was too late for my saloon.
A thief is holding up the saloon.
"Drop all your cash on the floor. Don't make any funny business, or you pack push up daisies," growls a feminine voice. Her (h/c) hair covers her (e/c) eyes. A red bandana covers half her face dramatically. I stand and hover my tense hand over Gun. I watch her turn to me calmly.
"What are you doing here?" I hiss. She gives me a lovely smile. False innocence plasters her features. If it wasn't for my fear and adrenaline, I would go as far as to say she's gorgeous. Her lovely hands clutch a shotgun similar to Gun.
"Making a living," she answers simply before whizzing a bullet past my head. Yet, I could tell by her wrists she had a killer aim - it was a warning shot. The woman steps closer, her dark, saturated (f/c) boots clicking heavily on the floor. Her jeans were dusty and torn. Not a single article of women's clothing was on her body.
"What do you want from Spitbucket?" I snap. I bare my sharp canines. She just giggles cutely and runs a finger down my jaw. I shiver from her cold touch. Her smile is that of a predator. She knew what she was doing.
"Your gold, silver, jewelery, and valuables. What else would a bandit want?" she purrs. No wonder she laughed at my canines. Her teeth were sharp. Born just for tearing meat apart. My breath was taken away as she grips my jacket. She inspects my chess closely.
"'Sheriff Thomas Thompson'. Nice name. Too good to kill," she breathes. I freeze as I feel my cheeks grow warmer than my hands. This makes her giggle quietly.
"Aww, is Thomas Thompson flustered?" she asks in a childish voice. It was almost adorable. Key word; almost. I watched as her boots clicked away. She holds up her gun to Todd as he fills her bags with cash. At least 75% was mine from my constant purchases of whiskey. She smirks as she hauls the bag over her shoulder.
"Later, Spitbucket. Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year!" she cries as she leaves the saloon. I quickly chase her on foot, learning fastly that she was also on foot. I finally dive for her and pin her to the snowy road. No one was dumb enough to be out in this cold, so I knew I could keep her pinned.
"Good catch, Sheriff," she giggles darkly. Her pretty face and voice cloud my thoughts.
"Good face..."
"What?"
"I mean..-! Good pace. I nearly lost track of your intentions, crook," I growl. She giggles and pokes my nose. My blush grows substantially.
"You can't hide it from me, Sheriff. You liike me~," she giggles. I snarl and get up.
"N-no!" I gasp. She kisses my lips softly and my face's heat skyrockets. I gingerly touch my lips as she walks away. Her giggle rings in my ears. I instantly smile love-struck.
"Later, Sheriff! Nice talking to you! Name's (Y/N), by the way. Add it to your list of wanted criminals," she cheers. I sigh lovingly and start walking away. I think I'll let her slide.
