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johnwickb1tsch · 14 days

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🌻Small Town Girl🌻 ~ Part 1

Tex Johnson thought he was just passing through…until he set his eyes on you.

A little Tex x Reader fic for my beloved @treedaddymcpuffpuff. I love you bool!!! I hope you like this. It’s a mix of you and me and shit i made up and The Gift and conversations we’ve had and that silly rodeo fic we talked about and probably some sookie stackhouse and justified and longmire and other cowboy media that lives rent free in my brain at all times 😆 this is like 7000 words i apologize in advance…🙃 ILYSM!!!

Warnings: mentions of past spousal abuse, mentions of animal abuse, religious trauma...you know, the usual social problems of depressed rural america... I can say that because I live here. divider by strangergraphics-archive

To be fair, you saw the trouble coming from a mile away.

Or at least…a hundred yards, because that’s where he parked his ‘69 Chevelle outside the diner in the middle of your shift. You watched him swagger up in denim, boots, and a bitchin’ fringe leather jacket out the corner of your eye, because you were taking someone’s order. And you cursed the gods when he sprawled himself in a seat in your section, long legs extended out partly in the aisle. He was going to trip someone–or maybe he was just hoping you’d ask him sweetly to move those fancy-tooled shit-kickers to their proper position.

Your capacity for sweetly went up in smoke about an hour ago.

“Hi, can I get you started with something to drink?”

He looks up at you, all dark eyes and smoldering charm–yes, you’re sure he knows it, too–offering up a half smile that makes your heart stop even though you tried to brace yourself. And wow, goddamn if he doesn’t have the balls to look you up and down before answering, “Think I’m in the mood for somethin’ sweet.” His smile widens as you narrow your eyes down at him.

“You want a milkshake?”

You swear there is a sparkle in his eye as you ask it.

“Why yes, I believe I do. What flavor you got?”

You blink, heat blooming across your chest and up your neck. He sees it too, the cheeky bastard, that devil-may-care curl of lips widening more.

“We have chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, and banana.”

“Hmm. That’s a hard choice, darlin’.”

“You need some time to think about it?”

He chuckles at your sass. “Nah. How ‘bout vanilla. With a cherry on top?”

“Hard to find ‘round here, but I’ll see what I can do,” you deadpan, doodling with concentration on your order pad.

This tickles his funny bone something fierce, those lovely eyes shining. Good Lord, it’s just not fair, the types of temptation the Devil is allowed to set in front of you mere mortals.

However, you’re not falling for it. You’re not. You learned the hard way to be wary of tall, dark, and handsome men with a bit of the devil in them. Because before you were y/n y/ln, your name was Mrs. Donnie Barksdale, and you’ve got the scars to prove it.

“Comin’ right up, mister.”

“Tex.”

“Pardon?”

“That’s my name. Tex.”

He is a charming bastard. You’re not falling for it. You just gotta keep telling yourself that.

“Obviously an alias.” With the tip of your tennis shoe you nudge his big booted foot out of the aisle. “You’re gonna hurt someone with them things.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that.”

You were not playing footsie with this gorgeous stranger. You were just moving a tripping hazard.

You’re not falling for it.

You’re not so convinced either, as you go to make his drink.

***

A little later, when you bring out his burger and fries, he asks, “Why don’t you set with me a while?”

You roll your eyes, withdrawing a roll of silverware from your apron. “I can’t sit down and jaw with you, I’ll get fired.”

He gives you a pouty face, and it should be illegal for a grown-ass-man to look so cute. “When’s your break?”

“Not for hours,” you lie.

“I’ll wait for you, darlin’.”

You snort in answer to that, even while a storm of butterflies goes crazy in your belly.

“Surely you have somethin’ better to do.”

He shrugs. “I just finished a job. Takin’ time for a little vacation on my way home.”

“Oh yeah? What do you do?”

“Erm…I’m in situational…solutions…management.”

“Wow. That’s not vague at all. You in the mob or somethin’?” you tease.

He lifts a brow, but doesnt answer immediately. It gives you an uneasy feeling, before he flashes that good ol’ boy smile again.

“Wouldn’t that be some shit?”

Sometimes you get feelings about things, and there is something about this man that makes you uneasy. You think your first instincts were right about him. He needs to be kept at arm’s length. Or maybe the proverbial ten foot pole would be more ideal. The sooner he moves on down the highway, the better.

He lingers long after his burger and shake are gone, people watching, looking out the window…and looking at you. You can feel his gaze on you, like he is a wolf waiting patiently in the treeline for his opportune moment. You have to walk past him after taking a family their order of food, and he asks you, “So what do you do for fun in a little town like this?”

“We’re all Baptists ‘round here, mister, no fun allowed.”

He scoffs, eyes still shining, but you can tell, his patience is finally wearing a little thin. Well, good. Hopefully he’ll get the hint and go. You’re sure a man who looks like him, tall and strapping and handsome as a movie star, is used to women throwing themselves at him. Maybe he thought you’d be a quick score because you’d be grateful for the attention. Boy howdy, did he read you wrong.

“Did I see a sign for a rodeo a street back?”

“Yeah, the fair and rodeo’s here this weekend.”

“Not your idea of fun?”

“Yes and no. I don’t like seein’ the animals get mistreated.” Not all of them were, of course. But the boys could be a little rough when they were roping the young steers, and you knew you’d have a bone to pick with the owner of the local petting zoo later.

“Huh. No, that’s not fun. Someone should do something about it.” That sparkle has returned to those polished onyx orbs, and you are equal parts intrigued and wary.

“Easier said than done, believe me.”

“We should team up tonight. Give ‘em hell.”

You raise an eyebrow to that. Is he asking you out? Your heart does a little flip, before leaping in a swan dive to splat on the pavement. Don’t be stupid.

“I don’t think so.”

“Aww, come on, honey, give me a chance. I’m not a bad man.”

He’s charming as a snake with an apple to sell, and you’re pretty sure he’s lying.

“That’s exactly what bad men say.”

“What would a sweet thing like you know about that?”

You sigh, suddenly feeling about fifty years older than you are. “I know enough.” You don’t really mean to, but in a tick you can’t quite break you brush your hair behind your ear, touching the scar on your temple from the last time Donnie beat the hell out of you. The flesh is still raised, if not faded, the span of a few years softening the evidence, if only on the outside.

You move your hand as soon as you realize what you’re doing, but not before this sharp-eyed man before you notices. His affable expression darkens, and you decide you would not like to meet him in a dark alley on a moonless night. “Give me a name, darlin’.”

For a moment you are taken aback. You don’t know this man, and he doesn’t know you. The offer to play white knight for you is both titillating, and tiresome, if you’re being honest. You’ve heard it before from men who wanted to impress you. None of them panned out. No one wants to take on Donnie Barksdale.

“I don’t need a man to protect me. I’ve got a shotgun for that. You want any dessert?”

Like flipping a switch, he grins up at you, and though he is being friendly, there is still a hint of fang in it, like a wolf on the scent of something to hunt.

“I believe you, honey. I better skip the pie. Gotta watch my girlish figure.” He pats his slim waist, and you can’t stop yourself from looking. Inwardly, you sigh. With your lip between your teeth you add up his final bill on your notepad. “Feel free to add your phone number on there,” he teases, to which you just shake your head sadly.

“There are plenty of pretty girls in this town who will be more than happy to entertain you, Mr. Tex,” you assure him.

Again, he shoots you that pout, and jesus god it should be illegal in twenty states, it gives you such a high.

“But none of them are you, darlin’.”

You roll your eyes, even if you kinda feel like you’re floating on a cloud right now. Goddammit.

“You can nurse your broken heart over at TJ’s by the creek, it’s where everyone goes around here.”

“Including you?”

“No.”

“Hmm, Miss Hard To Get. You’re really gonna make me comb through the whole crowd to find you at the fair tonight?”

“Who said I’m going to the fair tonight?”

“My gut.”

You hand him his check with a smile that does not hide your annoyance. “You can pay at the register.”

You hide in the back, finally taking your break, and deep in your idiotic heart you are sad to see him go. You hear the engine of the vintage sportscar rev from all the way in the kitchen, and you come out just in time to see the back end of him rolling down the road.

Good riddance. You think it, but a part of you doesn’t really agree. Ah well. You’ve always had a weak spot for strays, but that one would have taken the cake. He was A Bad Idea™ and you were much better off without him.

When you go to check the table you see he’s left you a cash tip that will cover your feed bills for a whole month, and your knees go a little weak.

***

When your shift ends you get in your old car and head home, out of town, down the highway and through the woods, to the old farmhouse your grandparents left to you. Maybe you won’t be on the cover of Country Living any time soon, but the battered old clapboard house is home, and has been home to members of your family since the mid 1800s.

Now, it is also home to the assortment of rescued animals you have picked up along the way. If your grandmother, god rest her soul, knew you kept a five-foot tegu lizard in an enclosure in her parlor she would probably expire all over again. But then again…if anyone had ever forgiven you for your stranger quirks, it was your Mawmaw.

Your parents, not so much, which was ironic, considering. There was a reason the family farm went to you and not your mother. She never really got the hang of the whole adulting thing, falling in “love” with dirtbag after dirtbag after your parents divorce, ping ponging between bouts of addiction and religious righteousness. How you came to dread the words, “I am saved!”

You find it funny, that the people who bang their bible the hardest are usually the ones who have the biggest sins to answer for.

But when it came to bad decisions, maybe your apple didn’t fall far from the tree, considering your ex, but in your defense you grew up with Donnie Barksdale. His family’s land adjoined yours, and they had been in this holler just as long as your own ancestors had. They were well regarded around your tiny rural community, and half the folks in your town could hardly believe the rumors of the horrible things that man used to do to you. The other half thought you must have been asking for it–what can you count on in these parts, if not good ol’ fashioned Christian misogyny?

Once upon a time, Donnie Barksdale had been your best friend. You ran wild through the woods in your youth, building forts and catching critters. You fished in his pond and played in the hayloft of your grandparents’ barn. Then you got a little older, and your shirt filled out and the hormones kicked in, and maybe it was to no one’s surprise when you became lovers. Highschool sweethearts to a married couple, right after graduation. You could have gone to college on a scholarship, but Donnie wanted you home.

It was easier to control you that way, you came to find out.

He didn’t beat on you at first. It took a while, for the disappointments of real life to set in. He never got drafted to play pro ball, and he was too proud to take up an honest trade. The pressures of living in a depressed rural area, with no good jobs and few good prospects, took their toll. Reagan-era policies made it easy for corporations to run all the little brick-and-mortar businesses into the ground, and trickle-down economics left your little community behind. Alcohol, meth, and Walmart filled in the voids.

With nothing better to do, Donnie started having affairs, and drinking too much, and when he finally got home he took his frustrations out on you.

You try not to think about it now, but you do, every day. You’re not sure what hurt more: the actual physical beatings, or the betrayal by the boy who you’d loved madly since you were just eight years old.

But there is something to be said, for the healing to be found with your hands in the dirt. You were such a broken thing, when you took over your grandmother’s overgrown garden years ago. Now, your little farmstead is a pollinator’s paradise filled with flowers and food. There’s something about sitting in the quiet with the butterflies flitting around that makes you feel like you’ve done something right in the world. You feed the birds, and you care for your animals, and you take life day by day.

It’s a simple life, but a good one. You’ve run a long road, but you’re finally starting to feel like you’re going to be ok.

And, you intend to keep it that way. That means not going for rides in fast cars with handsome strangers, no matter how lonely you are, or if it seems like he would be good to you, even if just for a night.

You did good today, sticking to your guns.

You need another man in your life like you need a hole in the head. “Boys are so rude,” you expound to your chickens, and your hens seem to cluck in agreement, their feathers so silky soft against your ankles as they wait for a treat. The last rooster who hurt your girls for his own gratification lost his head and ended up in your cookpot. If only it was so easy to dispose of belligerent human males.

You get your scoop, doling out some extra scratch grains to lure the chickens into their pen to lock them up early.

You’ve got somewhere to be.

As it turns out, Tex was absolutely right about your intention to go to the rodeo, though you’re pretty sure he was blowing smoke about trying to find you. It’s a small town, but everyone will be there. You’ll be a needle in a haystack, and you take some comfort in that as you put on a black sunflower print sundress and your battered boots.

You feed the cat, the dogs, your ancient conure parrot, and lock up the house. You have to go see a man about a horse–and you’re kind of dreading it.

***

You are not the only adult in the petting zoo area, which is some small relief. It takes a little while for Dale to even notice you are there, sneaking his skin and bones mini horse molasses treats from your purse in an attempt to help the poor thing put on some weight. It’s starving and its hooves need a trim and you could strangle Dale Manes with your two bare hands.

You pass his place on the way home, and you regularly throw hay and treats over the fence in an attempt to feed his animals–something he clearly doesn’t seem to think it’s necessary to do much.

He’s a cousin of Donnie’s, which has never kept him from ogling you. With some extra cash in your purse thanks to your handsome stranger, you’re hoping that maybe you can sweet talk Dale into relinquishing ownership.

Maybe it’s a lost cause, but maybe you can’t help but think about how many times people had looked at you in a bedraggled state, knew you needed help, and kept on walking with a “Bless her heart,” muttered under their breath.

This little horse gobbles his treats down and bumps his head against you for scritches, leaning on you like a dog.

“Y/n, I see you spoiling my horse.”

You grit your teeth, before facing the music. “Hi Dale.”

“You know, I got you on my game cam trespassing on my property.” You can’t tell by his tone if he’s mad or not. It feels like you’re walking into a trap. Donnie used to play this verbal kind of game with you. It must be genetic.

“Trespassing’s a strong word,” you say, pouring extra sugar into your drawl.

“I don’t know what else to call it. Illegal feeding of animals?”

You give him a sheepish smile, when all you really want to do is kick him in the balls.

“Oh come on, Dale. You know this horse is skinny. It’s ok, I know how things go. I had some extra so I spread it around.”

It is not ok and you have literally lived on ramen cups some months so your animals could eat well and get the medicine they need.

“Well ain’t you a peach?”

“Dale?”

He leers at you, sidling closer, and your skin crawls.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Sell me this horse.”

He gives you a look. “You’d ask a man to sell his livelihood?”

You happen to know he gets by on government draw and dealing pain pills just fine.

“I like Ziggy. He’s my buddy. Let him come live with me.” The little horse in question is trying to nuzzle into your purse for more molasses treats.

Dale takes a step closer, and it takes every iota of your self control not to step back.

“You really are a piece of work.”

“Excuse me?”

“You conniving little bitch. I know it was you that called Animal Welfare on me last month.”

The sweetness drains from you like a flushing toilet. “Fat lot of good it did, I guess.”

“You little bitch. You know how lucky you are? If you were my wife I would have killed you and buried you somewhere no one would find you.”

“Wow. I guess that’s why your wife ran off to Florida.”

“Cunt.” He raises his hand to you, right here in front of children and mothers and God and the whole damn town.

“What’s goin’ on here?” A strong arm loops around your waist, pulling you back out of striking range. “We horse tradin’, or are we pickin’ fights we can’t win?”

With wide eyes you look up to see the man from the diner, somehow even more handsome than before because he’s cleaned up and changed his shirt, the good looking bastard.

“Were you raisin’ your hand to this lady?” he asks. His tone is jovial, but there is an edge beneath the surface that does not escape your notice. You learned the hard way, how to dissect the subtle cadences of a man’s words.

“Believe me when I tell you she deserves it.”

“Huh.” Out of the blue Tex’s fist connects with Dale’s jaw, knocking him out cold. Ziggy startles at the body hitting the ground, darting on his little legs to the other side of the enclosure. All the families stare, shocked that someone would dare, though no one rushed in to see if Dale was still breathing.

“Well, that’s our cue to go.”

“What?”

You are in shock, and it does not even occur to you to fight him when Tex takes your hand and pulls you through the crowd. You do not stop until you are on the other side of the fairgrounds, amidst the games and the dubiously safe rides.

“Oh. My. God,” you wheeze, when finally you pause by the Whirl-A-Gig. “Do you know what you just did?”

“You’re welcome,” he answers with that shit-eating grin, and you almost want to sock him yourself.

“You should have let him hit me!”

“What?” Eyes wide, Tex is incredulous before you.

“God, I didn’t plan it that way but it would have been perfect! He woulda gone to jail, and the county would have to seize his animals.” At least the local Human Society would feed the poor things.

Tex blinks, looking down at you like you’ve grown a second nose. “Did you miss the part where he was going to knock your head off?”

“I’m used to it,” you muse absently, annoyed to the soles of your boots that you missed this opportunity. “If I were you I’d git while the gettin’s good. The whole Barksdale clan is going to come after you now.”

His grin is like a baring of fangs. “Sounds like fun.”

“Huh. You ain’t gonna think so when ten of ‘em roll up on you in your fancy sportscar.”

“Meh. I can handle a pickup truck full of cousin fuckers. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

A chortle escapes you before you can stop it. You cross your arms defensively, trying not to smile.

“The Barksdales are some tough customers, mister.” You had to be, to survive back in the day, but somewhere along the line it just got…out of hand.

“Sounds like you know ‘em pretty well.”

“I was married to one of them for the worst six years of my life. Believe me, you don’t want none of what they got.”

Tex takes this opportunity to step into you, and now that the excitement is over you are reminded that you have six feet of pure cowboy standing in front of you. The pretty tooled embroidery on his shirt emphasizes how wide his chest is. You can smell the heady spiced scent of his cologne, and it hits you like a drug. Goddammit.

“Sounds like you’re worried about me, darlin’.” His voice is like warm molasses.

“Psshh. You better worry about yourself,” you grouse with extra venom, annoyed. “I don’t think you have the sense God gave a chicken.”

He chuckles at that, and you try to back away. Try is the operative word, because he has your hands in his again. “Oh come on, darlin’, don’t leave me yet. Is this the thanks your knight in shining armor gets?”

His hands engulf yours, long strong fingers wrapped around your palms, and you feel more than a little weak inside.

“Knight in shining armor my fanny. Your little stunt is going to get us both hurt.”

“My stunt? Were you or were you not trying to buy that horse when you knew damn well he wasn’t going to sell it to you?”

You sigh. “Well…I had a little windfall burnin’ a hole in my pocket, and I had to try.”

He pulls you a little closer–amazingly, you let him. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind when I left that for you.”

“Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?”

“Well…” Goddammit, if he does not take the opportunity to sidle even closer, so that your fronts are nearly pressed together, and you think you just might faint. “I was hoping you might treat yourself to somethin’ nice. Like a pretty new dress.” He looks you up and down, making a low sound in his throat of appreciation. “But I see you already had that handled. Mmm, you look good.”

You sigh, a long suffering sound of exasperation. Is there something wrong with this man? Because he can’t seem to stop running his mouth. And maybe you’re losing your mind, but…you’re kind of starting to like it.

“I think you might have a screw loose, mister.”

He grins wide for you, in that moment looking every bit the outlaw, with his shining dark eyes and hair brushing his collar.

“That may be true…” He leans down towards you, and you think you just might die. “But I’m pretty sweet.” You’re afraid he’s going to try to kiss you, and you’re even more afraid you’re going to let him. But he just bumps your forehead with his before paying you that devil-may-care grin, and you swear your heart stops in your chest.

This man is such a mistake, but you feel your defenses dissolving like sugar in hot tea.

“Want to split a funnel cake?”

As it turns out, it’s the nail in your coffin.

“Yeah.”

He grins like a man who just won the lottery, tucking you into his side under the shelter of his well-muscled arm like you’ve always belonged there, and goddammit if it doesn’t feel good to feel protected. Too good, maybe. It’s something you cannot allow yourself to get used to.

“I knew you’d come around, darlin’.”

It’s been a while since you made a big mistake. Like…less than an hour, at least, so you guess you were due up. As bad decisions go… You look this tall cowboy up and down, his denim-clad legs about a mile long swaggering beside you.

“How did you find me?” it occurs to you to ask.

“I remembered what you said about liking animals, and figured the petting zoo would be a good place to start.”

You pause in your step, almost tripping as you look up at him. Maybe it shouldn’t be this surprising, that a man actually listened to something you said. But god. It twists and squeezes something inside you. It’s painful and wonderful and you really should run before this gets out of hand. But he is looking down at you with those smoldering dark eyes, and a part of you already knows that it’s too late.

***

“So, my babygirl likes animals,” muses Tex beside you, taking a bite of funnel cake with a grin. “Let me guess. You’ve got a whole house full of strays.”

You sigh, tearing off a piece, a good crispy bit with plenty of powdered sugar. “And a barn.” You have chickens and ducks and rabbits and goats that came to you post-Easter after people realized the fuzzy little things turned into full grown animals that needed housing and room. You have a conure that outlived its previous owner, and a bulldog whose tongue doesn’t quite fit in her mouth, and the world’s only sweet chihuahua who loves to snuggle and needs medication that seems to get more and more expensive every time you have to buy it. The reptiles came to you from a family whose child changed their mind, and the cat just kinda showed up at your door one day, the way they do…

Most men who hear the extent of your menagerie swiftly run in the other direction. They think you’re a hoarder, or if they stick around they want to be the sole focus of all your attention–and it’s just not going to happen. They leave after a month or so, or you run them off.

You have no reason to think this won’t end the same way.

“That’s alright, darlin’. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with havin’ a soft heart for critters.”

They all say that at first.

Ah well. It’s not like you’re looking to get married again, anyhow. You just…get a little lonely, sometimes, when it’s just you and the dogs and darkness outside.

“Hmm. That’s not the review I usually get. So what about you? You know I have to ask if you’re really from Texas.”

He grins. “Guilty. But I live in L.A. now.”

“Oh yeah? Are you an actor?”

“I was a stuntman for a little while.”

“Anything I’ve seen?”

He laughs, an open guffaw of mirth that makes his eyes shine and your heart fill to bursting. “Well, you look like a diehard fan of Death Charger II.”

“Oh yeah, I used to watch that with my Grandma,” you tease.

He snorts and pulls off another piece of pastry. “It was fun for a while, but I could tell I was just going to end up with a broken body and an empty bank account.”

“So…what do you do now?”

He looks up at you through those long dark lashes, and you swear to god your heart does a pirouette in your chest.

“I can’t really talk about it,” he tells you, which you guess is actually a more honest answer than feeding you some bullshit lie. “Pays well, though.”

“Okay…that’s not creepy at all.”

He pays you that open grin and offers you the last little crunchy morsel from his fingertips. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head, darlin’. You’re in good hands.”

After a long pause you take the bite, your lips just barely brushing the tips of his fingers. But it ignites a fire in his eyes that has you squirming in your seat, your thighs unbearably moist. Thank god you’re wearing a black dress.

“Let’s walk around,” he proposes, and you agree, even if you’re afraid your legs might not work anymore.

***

Hand in hand, you wander the fairgrounds, people watching, talking, and playing a few games. Tex is fun, and he is sweet, never once letting go of your hand, except during the clown toss which he swears is rigged (and you agree). He makes a crack about his balls being too big to fit in its mouth, and you break down in a giggling fit as the two of you walk away. It feels a little bit like magic, wandering around amidst the bright lights and the warm night and for the first time in a long time, you realize you’re not afraid of running into one of Donnie’s clansmen with an axe to grind or family honor to hold up or some other testosterone-driven bullshit that terrorizes your waking hours and your nightmares.

“Haunted house?”

“No way.”

“Swings?”

“Don’t trust them.”

“Roller coaster?”

“I like my spine aligned right where it is, thank you.”

“How ‘bout the ferris wheel?” Tex proposes with a lift of brows, and even though you know exactly what he’s up to, you finally agree. Tucked into the tiny bucket together in a space that is not meant for adults but god is it lovely to sit with your side molded to his, Tex sneaks his arm around you with a come-hither curl of lips.

“Don’t even think about it,” you warn him with a venom you absolutely do not feel at this point. You make a show of leaning away, even though there’s absolutely nowhere for you to go in the little compartment.

“Oh, I’m thinkin’ about it,” he assures you with a devilish glint in his eye, pulling you closer, and off you go in a big vertical circle. It is fun, to see all the lights and the people below, and the rodeo round pen on the other side of the grounds.

Then the ride stops with a grinding halt that doesn’t feel quite right. The two of you are at the very apex of the wheel, on top of the world. You look around, a little nervous. Oh god, please don’t let you get stuck here.

“It’s alright, darlin’” he soothes you, with a wolfish grin that is not comforting at all.

You can see the roping event with a bird’s eye view. You flinch as a cowboy throws a loop around a steer’s neck, jerking it around. At least the second cowboy misses the ankles. You stick your tongue out at them, knowing no one can see.

“Aww, that little grass puppy’s fine,” Tex tries to assure you. “They’re pretty tough.”

Once upon a time your family made part of their living running cattle. You know they’re tough, but that doesn’t mean it’s fair to treat them that way just for fun. “There are ways to train them without the rope, you know. They’re very food motivated.”

“But what’s a cowboy without his rope, honey?”

“A farmer.”

He chuckles at that. “It just lacks a certain prestige, don’t it?”

“Fuck you very much. My family’s been farming since before this place was even a state.”

He chuckles at your fiery response, clearly enjoying getting your goat. “Erm–no offense.”

“Pssh. It’s not about prestige. It’s men and their testosterone poisoning, always havin’ to show off at everyone else’s expense.” You’re sure he won’t like it, but you say it anyway. You wait for him to get surly, like all men do when you say what you’re really thinking, and it occurs to you that maybe you should have waited until you’re not trapped in a tin can of an amusement ride with him before insulting him.

“Hmm. Well…there might be somethin’ to that.”

He could have knocked you over with a feather…if you weren’t already mashed into an enclosed seat with him.

“Yeah, there might be,” you say more softly, quickly looking away when he tries to meet your eyes.

“Hey now.” He strokes your arm with his fingertips lightly, drawing little circles and driving you crazy. “We’re silly creatures, ain’t we? I get it.”

The fact that this man, who is 6 feet plus of pure masculine energy, would say such a thing to you–well frankly it blows you the fuck away.

“Showin’ off is fine,” you sigh, still unable to meet his eyes. “It’s just…why does someone always have to get hurt for the sake of it? Usually…someone innocent.”

“You’re right,” he agrees gently. “It shouldn’t be that way.”

Now you do get up the courage to look at him, though it feels like you’re drowning when you do. You really thought you had this man’s number. He dresses like a cowboy and drives a vintage muscle car, walks with James Dean swagger and he even punched a man out for you not but over an hour ago. But here he is, talking to you…like women matter. Like you matter.

“We’ve been up here a really long time,” you muse, blinking the tears out of your eyes while you peer over the side.

“Ah well. I’m sure they’ll get us down eventually.” He does not seem worried at all. “I like the view.” He’s looking at you while he says it, curling a little lock of hair from the nape of your neck around his finger, and an embarrassing shudder gallops down your spine. “Hmm, someone’s sensitive,” he says with a little smile.

You shoot him a glare out the corner of your eye. You don’t think you’ve convinced him by half.

“It’s just cold up here.”

It is the tail end of summer, and still 80 degrees out with the sun down.

“Sure it is, sweetheart.”

You sigh, and you don’t know how it’s possible, considering your position, but somehow he seems to sidle closer.

“Tex?”

“Yeah, beautiful?”

You don’t really know what you intended to say–you look at his mouth, those full, well-drawn lips, and you forget how to breathe for a few crucial seconds. You are lightheaded, the world spinning as he closes the distance, and gently presses his mouth to yours.

Someone moans, and only belatedly do you realize it’s you.

You feel him smile against your mouth, before going in for the kill, his long fingers sliding up into your hair to hold you to him. If you’d felt trapped you would have fought him, no matter how stupid and no matter how high up you were sitting in this rattletrap of a ride held together with rusty bolts and bubblegum. But you feel…free, like for a few blessed moments, you’ve found a part of yourself you left somewhere. A part of yourself you needed, even though you didn’t realize it at the time of losing it.

You let this man devour you, his tongue sliding against yours in a dance you feel all the way in your clit. Pressing your thighs together does not help at all, and he smiles again like he knows exactly what your problem is. When his paw of a hand settles just above your knee, squeezing the soft flesh of your thigh, his thumb finding its way just past the hem of your dress, you smack your hand over his. “Hold up, cowboy,” you pant, knowing you sound ridiculous but unable to put any real steel in your tone.

His eyes glitter like the night sky as he pulls back to look at you, breathing heavy through his nose. “You sweet little thing. I could just eat you up.” He nibbles your lower lip again, and you think you might expire. He doesn’t force the issue, his hand staying right where you’re holding it. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears, a steady timpani roll that does not help with your lightheadedness. The carriage sways slightly in the summer breeze, and you’re not sure that you’re not floating in mid air with nothing to catch you. Your grip on his hand tightens, desperately seeking something to ground you. You’re not sure if this is a panic attack, or vertigo, or unadulterated lust.

“Don’t get too full of yourself…but I think I might faint.”

The hunger in his expression turns into concern. “You alright, darlin’?”

“Just…hold on to me, ok?”

“Alright, alright. You gotta breathe for me though. Deep breath.” You do as you’re told. “Then out.” You do this, and you close your eyes, and you start to feel better just as the wheel finally starts to turn again.

As excruciatingly fun as it was to be squashed together with this delicious specimen of a man, you are so grateful when it’s time to get out and put your feet on terra firma once more. Tex steadies you with an arm around your waist, and you just happen to be looking up at the right time to catch the ferris wheel operator’s conspiratorial wink at your ad hoc date.

“Sonofabitch. Did you bribe him to stick us up there?”

Tex chuckles, flinching as you poke him in the ribs. “Hey, you ain’t even met my Mamma yet!”

“Did you?” you demand, unrelenting in your attack. He wiggles like he is ticklish, and you feel like you have stumbled upon crucial intelligence of the enemy.

“I might have slipped him somethin’...”

“You imp! I thought we were stuck!”

He is laughing as you tickle him and poke him, until maybe your fingernail goes a little too far in between his ribs and he grabs you up with a growl that you feel in your loins, putting a stop to your antics with your arms pressed to your sides and your body pressed to his. “You ok? I didn’t know you were scared of heights.”

You’re not really. Scared of feeling things, is another matter.

“I’m ok.”

“Good.” He dips his head to kiss you again, and you let him for about 2.5 seconds before turning your head.

“Tex…”

“Yeah, honey?”

“I think…I think I better go home.”

His expression falls like you kicked his puppy. “Oh. Did I…do somethin’? I’m sorry, darlin’.”

He did somethin’. He’s done everything right, and suddenly you are scared shitless of where this could lead.

“No, I’ve had fun,” you tell him honestly. “But I have to work tomorrow, and I’m tired. I should go home.”

“Oh.” He sticks out that pouting lip, and it really should be illegal for a grown man to look so adorable. “Can I…come see you for lunch then?”

“I guess…I can’t stop you.”

“Would you want to though?”

Therein lay the million dollar question.

“Maybe not?”

He smiles, and it feels like a special gift, just for you. “Alright. Tomorrow then. Let me walk you to your car at least.”

Considering what you got up to earlier that evening, it wasn’t a bad idea. “Ok.”

You exchange one last lingering kiss before he tucks you down into your driver's seat and makes ao show of buckling you in. You know it's a ploy to feel you up a little but it makes you giggle anyway. “Tex…I can buckle my own damn seat belt.”

“I know, darlin’.” He leans on the roof of your car, looking down at you like you’re something precious, preventing you from closing your door. You need to go because if you stay in his company any longer you are going to melt into a pile of goo.

“Tex…”

He sighs. “Alright, fine. Tomorrow. You better be ready to take your break with me.” He makes sure your legs are out of the way before shutting your door and tapping on the roof. Why do men do that, like a car is a horse? Giddyup. You think it would be horrifyingly hilarious, if your late-model car decided to play it’s occasional game of let’s not start until you try five times. But no, the old soldier dutifully responds to the turn of your key, and carries you away through the grass parking lot, onto the highway, and away from the man you’re afraid you would like to curl up in bed with and not leave for a month.

That man is pure trouble…and you are pretty sure you want more of him.

#tex johnson #tex johnson x you #keanu reeves #small town au #tex johnson x reader #keanu reeves x reader #donnie barksdale #donnie barksdale x you #past mention at least #this is not a pro donnie fic im sorry 😆#small town girl tex fic

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thoughtsforsoob · 8 months

Text

you’re frustrated because you’re struggling to learn Korean - txt

a/n: hello! I thought this post would be a little relatable bc I’m struggling rn with Japanese (but not bc of a man 😋). So much kanji to remember and so many words that they just all mush together. I love the language but it is testing my patience and my memory rn :( please enjoy this and lemme know if y’all speak other languages :) it’s cool to know im not the only one struggling with a trilingual brain🥰 requests are open as usual (no pics belong to me! Found on Pinterest)

yeonjun

It was actually his idea to teach you Korean, starting with basic stuff such as phrases at the convenience store and at coffee shops. He knew it would help when you had to go out places on your own. You’re on the phone with him after he’s hyped you up and refreshed some phrases for ordering coffee. You finally are up to order and while your pronunciation has been good, you mispronounce a word and your face goes red. You apologize to the cashier who was very understanding and helped you say the word correctly. You paid and thanked them for their kindness. Yeonjun heart could burst at how the cashier was patient with you and how you tried your best and finally said the word right. “Oh my goodness! You did amazing! Next time you’re ordering coffee for the both of us.”

soobin

As the days went by, he could see your passion for learning his language was dwindling. You were struggling with your conjugation skills and he was just trying his best to help you learn and eventually practice. You both are sitting at the kitchen table, with your textbook in front of you (giving flashbacks to elementary math homework). He’s giving you example of conjugations your currently learning and how to used them. It’s starts to all mush up and you can’t figure it out or focus. You start to cry into your hands. He pulls you close to him, “don’t be sad. I promise that you’re gonna learn really soon. I believe in you.” That’s all it took for you to keep trying. He also promised he’d take you for a melona pop if you tried a few more conjugations (I love melona I’m so sorry 🤤…melon and banana are the best flavors not sorry)

beomgyu

homie is so serious and you get mad at him because of that. he’s teaching you silly phrases and on one occasion, he purposely teaches you the wrong phrase. So, you’re out at lunch with his members and you try the phrase on yeonjun and he looks so confused. “Did you just call me dumb?” Your face is furiously red and you run off, crying. Your frustration sets in. Why would be do this to me? He comes after you after giving you some time to cool down. “Baby? I’m so sorry. I didn’t think that would make you so upset. I promise I won’t do it anymore. We’re gonna get serious I swear.” He lures you out by telling you he’s gonna start teaching you from a really good Tex ok that was recommended to him. He also explains to yeonjun what happened and yeonjun gives him an earful as well, taking you side.

taehyun

he actually is a really good person to help teach you. He has the patience of a saint when teaching you grammar. If you’ve attempted Korean, you know how challenging grammar can be to understand. Let’s say you’re out at a restaurant and try to order your own food..you make a mistake and the waiter is looking at you like huh? You start to feel embarrassed but taehyun explains you’re still learning and has you try it again. When you get it right this time, he smiled and the waited smiled as well. The pride he feels when he can see your improvement is like no other. “You did such a good job, honey. Tell you what, how about we get some ice cream after? You deserve a little treat.”

huening kai

I feel like he’d be very empathetic and understanding towards your struggle. He speaks many languages too and understands how frustrating when something isn’t sticking or when you forget words or grammar. For example, you’re at home and you’re both working on vocabulary. you messed up a few words in a row and start to feel discouraged. His best tool to keep you motivated to learn was tell you he was proud of you. He would always encourage you the best he could, “you’re for this bub! I’m so proud of you! I’m gonna keep helping you until you’ve got this :)”

#txt x reader #txt imagines #txt fluff #txt headcanons #txt reactions #ari.speaks<3 #txt smau #txt fake texts #beomgyu x reader #txt texts #taehyun x reader #yeonjun x reader #soobin x reader #huening kai x reader

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nexysworld · 1 year

Text

Chapter Summary: Waking up after your night in the woods leaves you grappling with emotions and uncertainty. There's only one lifeline you have - Leon. Pairing: Yandere!Leon x Fem!Reader Tags: NSFW, Dead Dove, Dubcon, Kidnapping, Stalking, Smut, Unprotected Sex, Pet Names, violence, gore, MDNI, masturbation, murder, slow burn.

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Everything felt sore and raw the next time you opened your eyes. Sleep had built up crust in the corner of your tear ducts, mouth cottony and dry. Despite feeling physically worse than the first time you woke up, mentally you were a little more there. ‘He has soft sheets. ’ You curled up more under the soft blanket, not yet wanting to acknowledge your own consciousness. The soft blanket that encompassed you had the faintest smell of Leon’s cologne, it was familiar and comforting.

Only when your eyes began to itch did you finally decide to join the waking world. Sitting up felt awkward, one foot was heavy and numb. Tossing the gray blanket to the side you found the culprit, a thick cast hardened around your ankle and foot.

Your brain flashed you images of the darkened forest, the root that had caused you to trip, feeling your ankle crack with a burning pop. The memory made your chest feel heavy.

“Leon?” Your voice was cracked and raspy as you called out for your friend. Vague bits of your previous conversation came back to you. “Leon?” You tried to call again, louder this time. A muffled, “Be right there!” Was heard through the closed door.

To distract yourself, you decided to take in your surroundings more, with it surprisingly having been the first time to see the inside of Leon’s apartment. His room was plain in another way that just seemed so fitting for him. The bedding, a soft and expensive cotton, different shades of gray. The walls plainly wallpapered, no real decor besides a few shelves with some knick knacks. Only the basics were there, a brown dresser and matching nightstand alone with a TV. You noted the carpet looked far more plush and newer than the one in your own apartment – in fact despite the lack of decor it was clear that Leon had made upgrades.

The door opened and Leon entered, a cup of water in his hand. “Sorry, that took a minute, I had to finish a work call. Hope you’re feeling better, you seemed really out of it earlier.” He reached out to hand the cup to you, from his other hand he produced two little red pills. “Ibuprofen, it’s what the hospital recommended.”

You popped the medication into your mouth before greedily gulping down the water, relishing the way the cool liquid felt as it ran down your throat. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He took a seat at the end of the bed, shooting you a weak smile. “So uh, you wanna talk about it? I was really worried, you know.” Handsome features melded into a concerned look as he scooted a little closer to you.

You pondered his question for a moment, more memories of the previous night coming back in short bursts. “Well I–” Something just felt wrong, it was like you were watching someone else’s memories, not your own. Of course your current physical state aligned with them – but the thought of Derek’s face twisting and morphing into that thing felt surreal. ‘No, that couldn’t have happened. It’s not possible.’ Realizing you’d left Leon hanging in silence, you finally looked back to him. “I don’t really know … Do you know where my phone is?”

“Yeah, I think I left it on the coffee table. Hold on.” He stood, exiting the room, returning quickly. “Careful, the screen’s pretty cracked.”

Taking the device from his hand, you tested it to see if it would even work. Luckily the screen lit up, Apple Logo coming to life underneath the cracked and rough glass. Breathing a sigh of relief, you immediately opened your contacts list scrolling to find who you were looking for. “This can’t be right.” You said, mostly to yourself. Derek’s contact was nowhere to be found, your last text thread, completely gone too.

Leon said something, but you didn’t register the words far too engrossed in your phone. Facebook? Relationship status set to single, no sign of Derek’s profile. Snapchat? Nothing. All the couples’ dates and holiday photos were wiped from your Instagram too. Chewing your lip, you checked the gallery of photos on your phone, nothing there either.

Anxiety began to overtake you once more, heart picking up speed. “What the fuck.” Searching through messages with friends, there wasn’t even a mention of your boyfriend. Everything was exactly as it should be, minus one person. “What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck.”

“Is everything ok?”

“No!” You snapped at the blonde, hands shaking. “No I am not o-fucking-kay.” In one last ditch effort you dialed his number from memory, bringing the phone to ear. There was the familiar ringing sound on the other end of the line, before it stopped abruptly. The narrator’s voice picked up, “We're sorry you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service.”

“No. No, fuck!” You dialed it again. Then a second time. A third time. A fourth time. By the fifth time, tears were staining against your cheeks. Each and every time you tried, the automated voice said the same thing. Derek had that number since highschool, you’d known it by heart there was no way you dialed it wrong. Before you could try again for the sixth time, Leon’s hands came forward to cup your face, forcing you to look at him.

“Hey, look at me.” He cooed gently. His features unblurred as your eyes adjusted through the tears, blue orbs looking back at yours. “Sweetheart, I need you to tell me what’s wrong.”

“He’s gone.”

“Who’s gone?”

“Derek. Derek, he’s gone. He’s not in my phone, he’s gone Leon.” Your hands came up to grip his wrists desperately trying to ground yourself. “How can he be gone, I was just with him and, and –”

“Shhh. Shh.” He shushed you softly, rubbing his thumbs over your cheeks, swiping the wet tears away. “Take a deep breath, in, and out.” Doing his best to follow his instructions you gasped in and out, chest heaving with each one. “Just like that. In, and out.” Soon the breaths evened out and returned to normal. “Good girl, shhh.” He moved his hands from your face, to wrap his thick muscled arms around you in a tight bear hug. “It’s ok, you’re ok.”

Leon held you against him, rubbing your back as you clung to him for dear life trying to calm yourself down. He waited a few moments after you calmed down, not letting you out of his arms as he spoke. “Derek, you said that name earlier when you woke up. Is he someone important?”

Brows knitting together you brought your face out of his chest enough to look up at him in confusion. “Important? How could you even ask me that, you know how important he is.”

It was his turn to return your look of confusion. “I’m sorry, but I don’t even know who that is.”

Astonishment. Absolute astonishment was the only feeling you had, launching backwards out of his arms, hitting your back against the pillows again. “Leon Scott Kennedy, that is not funny. You know damn well that Derek was important to me. I told you I was moving in with him. I texted you –”

Leon’s hands came up defensively. “Look, I know you’re a little out of sorts right now. Whatever happened last night must’ve been scary. But I promise you, I’ve never heard you say anything about a Derek, or a boyfriend for that matter.”

“That’s…that’s not true. It can’t be I was with him last night and –”

“What exactly happened last night. Do you remember?”

“I think so…not entirely…I don’t know.” You admitted honestly, looking down at your hands. “I was supposed to be camping with him. And while we were out in the woods, he was acting really strange…and then…and then…” Trailing off you weren’t even sure what to say.

“Did he hurt you? Is that why you’re cut up all over, your ankle?”

“I guess you could say that – but it’s not what you’re thinking. It wasn’t his fault he wasn’t in the right state of mind.” Leon gave you a knowing look in return. “No, no it’s not like that. Leon, I swear, he looked so ill. Black veins, red eyes and then suddenly he was chasing me and I remember tripping over a root. My ankle popped….and then he exploded….Leon I held his eye ball in my hand….oh god. I know I sound crazy but Leon, I swear to you I’m not. I remember, something blew him a part.”

The concern returned to Leon’s face and you could tell he wasn’t buying your story, despite that he still smiled and nodded. “That is definitely a wild evening.”

“You’re not taking me seriously. You don’t believe me.”

“I am taking you seriously. I think you just had a really rough night, maybe you were drinking, something bad happened in the woods.”

“I wasn’t drinking. I wasn’t on drugs, I was stone cold sober. Leon please .” You pleaded with him.

He sighed, pushing some of his loose fringe out of his face. “Ok, you were sober.” He conceded softly.

“You think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t think that either. I think that something happened, something very bad and you are just maybe not remembering things exactly as they happened.”

“I didn’t make him up.” You said firmly.

He reached out again, putting his hand on your shoulder. “Look, I won’t pretend to understand what’s going on, but I’m here. Whatever it is, it’s going to be ok.”

If it had been anyone else, you wouldn’t have trusted them in the slightest. If it had been anyone else, you’d have made an excuse to leave and hide in your apartment to figure things out on your own. But this wasn’t anyone else, this was Leon . “Thank you.”

He nodded in return, pulling his hand back. Leon had convinced you that before anything happened, what you really needed was food and fresh clothes. At least knowing he was on your side gave a boost to your mood, enough for you to temporarily calm down for the time being.

You picked at the plate of pancakes, fork twirling up some of the fluffy food before letting it fall off, repeating the action – lost in thought. Suddenly something warm was against your lips, eyes looking up to see Leon holding his fork to your mouth. “Come on, don’t make me do the Choo Choo Train bit too, eat it.”

Wrapping your mouth around the piece of food, you couldn’t hold back the small laugh that escaped at his words. “Why’d you do that?”

“Because you’re not eating, so I figured I’d help.” He raised a brow, forking another piece of the syrupy breakfast and held it up to your mouth, you accepted it the same as the first.

“If you’re feeding me, who’s feeding you then?” You mimicked his action, taking the piece of pancake onto your own fork and reaching out to him.

A bead of syrup began to pool off of the food, slowly dripping threatening to drop against the table. Leon darted his tongue out to catch it, the pink muscle lingering for just a moment before circling the fork. The action made your face heat up for a second, averting your eyes as he finally pulled the food into his mouth.

“Messy but delicious.” If he noticed the flush on your cheeks, he didn’t say anything.

The moment felt so normal. It brought you back to all the other moments you’d shared with him, the butterflies were working their way back into your stomach. The night at the movies, the way he’d licked the milkshake off his thumb. ‘ Wait– the movies… the argument with Derek. ’ Your head snapped up to look at the man across from you.

“Leon?”

“What’s up?”

“A couple of weeks ago, do you remember picking me up from the movies?”

He tilted his head back for a moment as he thought about the question. “Oh yeah, I remember. I was staying at a friend’s place in town and you needed a lift home.”

“Didn’t I tell you I was with my boyfriend and he left me?”

His brow raised in confusion. “Er, no? You said you got into a fight with your friend and she ditched you there.”

“My friend? No, it was a date with my boyfriend and we got into an argument over you.”

“Over me?” He looked genuinely shocked.

“Yes, you!” You slammed your hand onto the table, frustration bubbling within you again. “We had a fight because he thought we were getting too close, and then I wound up telling you a few days later that we needed to distance because of it! Don’t you remember?”

“I remember that you told me your best friend was starting to get jealous.” He said with a shrug. Tapping your fingers against the table, you brought your phone out again, flipping to your call log from that night. Sure enough, no calls to Derek, but there were the outgoing and incoming calls with Leon. Just above that where Derek’s name should have been, it was your friend’s contact. ‘ That’s not right…’ Back into your messages, you found her contact, and scrolled back to that night. There was no mention of the movies, in fact, there were no messages with her from that day at all.

Something was up, even if you couldn’t put a finger on it. Setting the phone down, you looked over at Leon, not sure what to say, and definitely not wanting to push him into thinking you’re crazy – which despite his kindness, he probably already does. ‘But last night.’ You had to resist the urge to cringe at the memory of the eyeball in your hand, the blood splatter. You swallowed down the growing nausea. It occurred to you, that regardless of your memory one thing was likely true – Derek was dead. It made you want to cry again, a black ball of agony settling in the pit of your stomach. You ignored it long enough to get yourself together.

“I want to search for him…or a sign of him at least.”

“Huh?”

“I want to search for Derek. I can’t have just imagined him. I just… I just want to stop by some familiar places.”

Leon nodded. “Why don’t we go together? You shouldn’t be walking around alone, especially with your leg out of commission.”

“Would you really be ok with that?”

“I told you, I’m here for you. If it makes you feel better, if you feel like it’s what you need to do, then we’ll do it.” His words were casual as he tucked back into the remaining food on his plate. Not a hint of mock or suspicion in his tone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Leon had fetched the hospital crutches you needed to use while your ankle healed, and helped you back to your own apartment. You shooed him off for the time being, insisting you were fine enough to get cleaned up on your own.

Stepping back into your own apartment felt so odd. Everything was exactly as you’d left it upon first glance, like the previous night had never even happened. It was so normal, it felt like you didn’t belong in it – like it wasn’t yours anymore.

“Fuck, I look rough.” Your mirrored image was exactly what you expected. Hair a mess, eyes sunken and tired, body littered with bruises and cuts – grateful that your image was soon covered by the fog of the shower heating up.

The hot water against your skin was euphoric, working out some of the soreness. It just felt good to be clean, fresh.

Sitting on the corner of your bed, slipping into some clean clothing, you looked around you. Nothing in your bedroom had been amiss either, all your plushies exactly where they were, even the pumpkin one. A thought occurred to you. ‘ Digital stuff is easy to mess with, but what about… ’ You hobbled over to your closet, flipping the light on. It took some careful effort to balance on your one good leg as you rummaged as far back as you could go. “Got it!”

Successfully, you found the old worn down shoe box, making your way back to your bed. It made sense, anyone could’ve messed with your phone, your social media while you were unconscious. But physical items, those would’ve been a lot harder to tamper with, especially unnoticed.

The box contained your entire life, photos, memories, everything physical that you held dear. A few birthdays ago your friends had gotten you one of those modern-mini polaroid camera, while you weren’t great about remembering to bring it all the time, you knew for a fact there had been pictures of you and Derek taken on it.

Sifting through the contents, you tossed all non relevant images to their own little pile while you looked through them. Childhood photos, baby pictures, some images of you and your friends. It was all there – except any photos of you and Derek. For good measure, you sorted through all of them again three more times just to make sure none were stuck together or were missed. You would’ve gone through them a fourth time if your phone buzzing hadn’t brought you back to the moment.

A text from Leon:

‘ Hey u ready? ’

You were not sure what was happening, but you were desperate to find out what the hell was going on. Replying to Leon, you grabbed your jacket, and headed for the door where he was waiting for you.

“Hey, while I was out, did you notice anyone strange in the apartment building?” He helped support your weight in the rickety and uneven elevator.

“Hmm, not that I know of. But you know I stay inside most of the time if I’m not helping Mrs. Wilson. Why?”

“I think someone may have been in my apartment.” For a brief moment you swear his grip on you tightened.

“Why do you think that?” The tone of his voice sounded off as he asked the question, restrained almost in a way you couldn’t fully put into words.

“Just some things are missing…but honestly I don’t know who’d steal them. They were just photos.” You shrugged, stepping out of the elevator, using the crutches to support you as you made your way through the parking garage over to his Jeep. It was a little odd that Leon was trailing behind you instead of taking the lead but you weren’t in a state of mind to question it.

“Are you sure you didn’t misplace them?”

“I guess I probably could have.” You shrugged, not really wanting to go into further detail or make yourself sound crazier than you already knew you appeared.

“Where to first?”

“Do you know that little cafe in the center of town?”

“The one with the pink cups and the $8 coffee?”

“Yeah that, one. He worked there, I just want to see if anyone knows the last time he was in.”

“You got it.” Turning the key, the jeep roared to life and you were on your way.

The fresh air felt nice, hair drying in the wind. A small part of you wished that the drive had been longer, admittedly nervous about what you’d find. Every time you looked back over to Leon, you felt grounded again.

“Do you want me to come in with you?”

“No, I got it.”

“Alright, just holler if you need me.” He shrugged, leaning back into his seat.

The bell rang as you opened the glass door, with only about 30 minutes to closing there was no one left inside despite a few employees – one being Derek’s direct manager. The smell of coffee and sweets wafting into your nose.

“Hey Mike.” His face warped into a confused look as he gave you an awkward wave.

“Uh..hey? Do I know you?”

The question had thrown you off completely, almost halting you where you stood.

“Dude, she probably got the name from your tag, chill out.” The man next to him said with a laugh. “Shouldn’t have smoked on break man, you’re paranoid.”

“Shut up, don’t say that in front of the customers.” He whispered to the employee before smiling at you again.

“Anyway, how can I help you?”

“I was just wondering the last time Derek was in?”

“Derek? I mean we don’t keep tabs on the customer like Starbucks so I couldn’t tell you.”

“He’s not a customer. He worked here, usually the closing shift. Derek, Derek Shultz?”

Both employees looked at each other then back to you. “We’ve never had anyone who works here by that name. Are you sure it was here and not the Dunkin down the block or the Starbucks the other way?” Their words made your mood shift instantly. “I know he worked here .” You insisted, too many nights were spent waiting for his shift to end, sitting at the cornered table by the window. “His picture is on the wall in the employee room, for crying out loud!” You moved to storm back there – well as much as you could with two crutches and a broken ankle.

“Ma’am, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to show you.”

“Ma’am you can’t go back there.”

“Like hell I can’t.” Frustrated entirely you kept moving forward, back behind the counter towards the slightly ajar door in the back.

“We’re going to have to ask you to leave.” The man said, trying to block your path.

“I’ll leave after I look!” Not taking no for an answer you angled the crutches so you could begin moving around him.

“Please don’t make us have to call the cops.” He pleaded with you, attempting to put a hand on your shoulder. The other employee had moved running into the breakroom, you caught a glimpse of the pictured wall before the door closed, but not enough to confirm what you were looking for.

“Just let me back there, damn it!” Under normal circumstances you would never act this way in public, but you were so desperate and overwhelmed you couldn’t help it. “I said let me in there!” You repeated, wacking the man in the leg with one of your crutches.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He demanded grabbing at his leg in pain. You maneuvered around him as quickly as you could, grasping at the door to the employee room and flinging it open. “Brady, call the fucking cops.”

Your eyes landed on the wall, and just like every other thing you’d checked for – there was nothing. His picture wasn’t there, replaced by some pimply teenager you didn’t recognize. Suddenly a pair of arms was tucked under your own, dragging you backwards. You kicked and flailed against his grasp. “Let me go, I just wanted to look!”

In the background you heard the second employee mentioning something to what sounded like a 911 dispatcher, the man holding you not easing up in his grip. The commotion must’ve been loud enough to have been heard outside, the chime of the bell signaling the door had been opened.

“What the hell is going on?” Leon’s familiar voice rang out. “Hey, just calm down and let her go.” He said attempting to take you from the man.

“No way dude, she’s crazy. She hit me with her crutches, I’m just holding her until the cops get here.”

“Leon!” You shouted his name, tears once again covering your face as you struggled in the man’s grasp.

You heard the blonde sigh before walking closer. “She’s with me, just let her go – she’s been having a rough day. That’s all.” He reached out, putting his hand on her arm. “I’m sorry for all the trouble. I’ll even have her wait here until the cops show up.”

“Fine.” The manager said, releasing you forward into Leon’s grip. “But I’m keeping the crutches back here until the cops decide what to do with her.” Looking up at him, you could see the muscles in his face tense before he smiled. “Understood.”

He opted to lift you up, carrying you back to the jeep. “You wanna tell me what happened in there?”

“I just wanted to see the picture, and they wouldn’t let me back and – I don’t know what came over me. I don’t even know what to tell the police.”

He didn’t question your barely-coherent explanation further. Instead, he patted your back gently. “It’s ok, I’ll handle them. You just relax and catch your breath.”

You wanted to question what he’d meant, but the first cruiser had already pulled into the small parking lot, causing Leon to immediately walk over. Feeling ashamed, you shrunk down in your seat as much as you could, wiping the tears from your cheeks and waited for your turn to speak with the officers.

You watched as Leon spoke with the cops, it looked like he’d pulled something out and showed it to them. Both officers nodded and the whole exchange barely lasted 5 minutes, it was the weirdest thing, and instead of walking to you they got into the car and left.

Leon returned to you a few minutes later, stuffing both crutches in the back of the jeep.

“They don’t want to talk to me?”

“Nah, I explained things and they don’t think it's worth pursuing y’know? I told them I’d get you home and make sure you’re not beating anyone else with your crutches.” He let out a dry laugh, but when he didn’t see you calm down he patted your back again. “Sorry, just trying to lighten the mood.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I know you’re under a lot of stress right now, I’m guessing you didn’t find what you were looking for?”

You shook your head, looking out the side of the jeep at nothing in particular, just not wanting to look at him or the coffee shop anymore.

“Sorry to hear that. Maybe you’ll find something at the next place?”

“Yeah, maybe.” You stayed silent the entire ride back to the apartment building, the sun beginning to set in the sky – Leon stayed quiet too and while odd, it was definitely appreciated. He helped you back to your apartment again before saying goodnight.

You were exhausted still, physically anyway, despite the rest you’d gotten after Leon had found you, but your mind wouldn’t shut off. Nothing was making sense, nothing at all. How everything could be so normal, how the world could keep turning while you lay in confusion and misery you’d never know.

Surely Derek must’ve been real. Who else would you have been in the woods with? The pumpkin plush he’d gifted you was still in your room.

But then, his job claims he was never there. Leon doesn’t remember him. The photos were all gone.

It made your head hurt, and every time you closed your eyes all you could picture was that thing in the woods. Heart racing as if you were being chased again, making it impossible for you to settle. The more you tried, the worse it got too – especially the thought that someone may have been in your apartment.

Every creak, noise, bump in the night was beginning to make you jump and put you further on edge.

Grabbing your crutches and sneaking out of your apartment, you made your way to the outside of Leon’s door. It was late, so you listened closely for any sign of consciousness on the other side. There was some shuffling and the sound of the TV, so you decided to knock on the door gently. The movement stopped and you heard the lock click on the other side of the door before it opened.

Leon stood leaning his arm against the frame looking down at you, only clad in a pair of pajama pants. It took the entire use of your last remaining brain cells to keep your eyes locked with his, not allowing them to travel down his well formed body.

“I can’t sleep.”

He nodded, “Come on in then.” He turned, letting you follow behind him. Your eyes making their way over the expanse of his back, even his shoulders were toned. Smooth pale skin, looked soft against the hardness underneath, and it was a delightful distraction for the time being – not having to avert your eyes or feel shameful since there was no one looking, not even Leon. He stopped to grab two beers from his fridge before plopping down onto the couch.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything”

“I wasn’t doing anything important.”

“I tried sleeping, but every time I close my eyes I just see the woods. And when I’m awake and alone with my thoughts, all I can think about is the coffee shop and those missing photos.”

“That’s rough, I’m sorry.” He patted the seat next to him on his couch. You took the invitation leaning back against the plush cushions. Somehow even it felt expensive and far out of your own paygrade.

“I just wish I could stop thinking about it entirely, just for a little while.” You settled into the spot taking a sip of the beer he offered before looking over at the TV, some documentary was on – he’d muted it though. “This might be something really weird to ask, so feel free to tell me no but… could I stay over here tonight? I don’t think I can be alone right now.”

“Of course. Me casa es su casa. You’re always welcome here.” He grabbed his own beer off the coffee table, taking a sip. “You can have the bed again, wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me to make an injured girl sleep on the couch.”

“Mm, that’s true and if I know anything about Mr Leon Kennedy, it’s that he’s nothing but a gentleman.”

“I’m flattered.”

You both laughed, feeling less tense already between being in his presence and the alcohol warming your system up. While you did consider yourself a bit of a lightweight, the exhaustion of everything must’ve been affecting you because halfway through the bottle you were already feeling the tingling of a buzz coming on. It wasn’t unwelcome though.

“You know.” You began, alcohol giving you a small boost of confidence. “You don’t have to sleep on the couch.”

“Oh?”

“I mean, I’d feel like I was putting you out – and besides your bed is pretty big we could both uh…” Not as smooth as you’d hoped, but he at least seemed to get the idea.

“I wouldn’t mind sharing the bed, if that’s what you mean.”

“Are you sure? If I’m being honest, I actually think I’d prefer it to being alone right now.”

“Yeah, besides then I keep all those bad dreams away.”

You finished the rest of your drink, nearly chugging it relishing the warm burn in your stomach. He offered you another, which you nursed between some more light conversation and him flipping through the TV channels, a nice foggy feeling taking over your brain.

It was around 2am when you both finally agreed to go to bed, giggling like crazy as you stumbled towards his room, barely coordinated enough in your inebriated state to use the crutches properly.

“Easy now.” He said, as he sat on the edge of the bed holding his arms out to you, much like a parent goading a toddler to walk.

“I’m fine, I got this.” You said, focusing hard on moving towards him. One crutch caught on the carpet though, making you wobble a bit. Not willing to give up the adventure to the bed, you tried lifting it, only to stumble forward, letting go of both wooden tools. “Woah!” Leon had caught you before you fell completely on top of him.

“What was that about being fine?” He asked, a smirk on his face.

You wanted to reply, but the close proximity to him wasn’t helping the state you were in, eyes locking on his face. You could smell the beer mixed with mint on his breath, his lips looked so plush and soft up close, barely ghosting over your own from the distance. If this had been a movie, it would’ve been the part where you finally gave in to the tension – but it wasn’t and you knew better.

“S-sorry.” You pulled away slightly. “Guess I’m a little tipsier than I thought.”

“European beer will do that to you.” He still held you at the waist for a moment, looking you over.

“We should get some sleep.”

He didn’t reply, instead helping adjust you so you could more easily crawl into your designated spot on the bed, tossing the blanket over you once you were there. He laid himself on the other side of the bed, facing away from you before switching the light on his nightstand off, encompassing the room in darkness.

Silence washed over you both for a few minutes, sleep still not quite coming over you as fast as you had hoped. “Hey Leon?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you hold me?”

The bed shifted against his weight as he rolled towards you, pulling you back against him a little. You could feel his warmth against your back, his heavy arm settling over you, hand resting against the skin of your stomach that was exposed as your night shirt had ridden up a little. The feeling of him against your skin affected you more than expected, heat twinging between your legs slightly – you squirmed slightly before squeezing your thighs together, trying to ignore it.

“Everything ok?”

‘Fuck .’ You groaned inwardly, not having wanted him to notice. “Yeah, just getting comfortable.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, pressing himself closer to you, chin resting atop your head. A few more moments of being wrapped in his warmth and any horniness you felt slowly transformed into sleepiness, eyes heavy. It wasn’t long until you were out like a light, all thoughts of Derek gone for the time being.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Bad news.” Leon said once you were conscious enough to understand words. He had clearly been up well before you – a part of you disappointed that you hadn’t woken to his warmth. “I got called into work.” He was rummaging around the room, a closed suitcase on the bed and a blue suit laid out next to it.

“Oh.”

“We’ll have to postpone our next visit. Just for a day or two though.”

“That’s ok. I appreciate you taking me at all.”

“How’d you sleep?”

“Better than expected – probably thanks to you.”

“There’s that flattery again.” His phone buzzed. “Hold on, I have to take this.” He answered, putting it up to his ear. “Kennedy here…Hunnigan? Yeah….” He walked out of the room to take the call in private.

You eyed the suit on the bed. Strange, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Leon in something so formal, it was hard to even picture him in it. It made you further wonder what his job even was – though you supposed it made sense that someone who worked for the government would need to dress a certain way.

Reaching forward, you pulled the hanger towards you inspecting it a little, the tag inside read ‘Hugo Boss.’ “Damn.” A brand name suit? Their cheapest ones were easily more than half your rent, and this one looked tailored too. Most people you knew who worked for the government weren’t making that kind of money, but you supposed you shouldn’t have been surprised given his affinity for jackets, or the expensive cologne and watches he wore. Hell, he could even apparently afford to update his apartment.

It did pique your curiosity though – and you were glad it did, needing desperately to focus on something else for a little longer.

The door opened and he returned. “Like it?” He asked, noticing you checking the attire out.

“Not sure, I can’t picture you in it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah it just doesn’t seem…Leon, you know?”

He laughed at the comment. “I have to agree with that. It’s not my favorite.”

“You said you worked for the government right?”

“Mhm, why?”

“I was just curious what you did?” It was subtle, but you watched him tense up again at the question. His hands gripped the suitcase lingering there for a moment, his face forcefully becoming neutral. “Only if you’re ok telling me.” You added, not wanting to make him feel pressured.

“No, it’s ok.” He returned to zipping up the suitcase, before, beginning to take the suit off the hanger to wear. “I can’t go into a lot of detail. I guess you could say I’m a federal agent in a way.”

“Like…DEA?”

“No, I don’t really deal with drugs.”

“Secret service?”

“Something like that, yeah. I do miscellaneous work, we’ll say.”

“Oh… dangerous work?”

“What’s with all the questions?” It was the first time you’d ever heard annoyance in his voice and it made you jump a little. He let out a sigh as he finished buttoning the white undershirt. “Look, I'm sorry. I get it, everyone has questions once they find out. Sometimes it can be dangerous. I really can’t say any more than that. So, no more questions, ok?”

“Sure, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s alright.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Not that you should have expected any differently, but things were harder without Leon there. While he said only a day or two, he wound up being gone longer and everything felt like it just took so much more out of you. Basic needs like food and water were ignored – returning to your job was something that was simply autopilot for you.

You barely slept the first two nights, the same thoughts and images running through your mind. If it wasn’t that awful horror reel replaying itself over and over, you were thinking about the upcoming trip when Leon got back. What would you even say to Derek’s family? What if the outcome was the same as all your other efforts? The very idea deflated you more than you cared to admit.

The remaining nights you spent in Leon’s apartment, curled up in his bed like a cocoon of safety. He’d left you with the key in case you couldn’t handle your own apartment again – clearly he knew you better than you knew yourself because he’d been spot on.

You missed him more than you expected too – he’d become sort of your lifeline since you’d woken up in his bed that morning. Always so kind, caring, there for you in a way even your closest friends couldn’t be. Of course, being surrounded by him definitely added to those feelings, and if you thought hard enough about it, you had missed him long before this while reconnecting with Derek.

Part of you felt guilty about it too – if Derek was real, you were already cozying back up with the very man he’d been so jealous of. But you couldn’t help it, and justified that Derek was likely not coming back even if you could prove his existence.

That thought brought little comfort as well, so instead you opted to push it to the back of your mind trying to grasp at any other thoughts.

Leon hadn’t really told you when he’d be back, and you probably should’ve checked in with him. You figured he would at least check in with you – but you were wrong – curled up under his blankets, your fingers ran themselves down between your legs, images of the blonde dancing behind your eyes.

This time you were picturing the night before he left, hand on your belly, back pressed to you. You took the image farther, picturing him running that hand down to rub at you gently through your pajamas, the feeling his hardness pressed to your back. Maybe he’d play coy while you squirmed and whimpered against him.

“L-Leon –” Your actions and voice were cut off by the sound of the front door opening. “Oh shit.” Yanking your hand back up, you tried to even your breathing out and flicked the light off. The sound of padded feet down the hallway grew louder before the door opened. Leon quietly made his way in, setting his suitcase down as you pretended to be asleep.

He didn’t say anything, only changing into his pajamas before lying down next to you. Thankful you hadn’t been caught, you closed your eyes, curling into his hold when he wrapped his arm around you – letting sleep overtake you for the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Derek’s parents lived a bit out of the way, but you knew the drive by heart having visited numerous times. They’d never liked you, always considering you not good enough for their son – he came from money. Good money too, which is why he was able to live in the nicer building in a more expensive part of town. His job was primarily for spending money.

This was your last hope for answers, for a sign that you weren’t crazy. You needed this trip to fair well.

Your confidence was rattled severely after the coffee shop incident, and knowing his family wasn’t your biggest fan made it worse. Regardless, you pressed on and opted to go with the ‘fake it until you make it’ approach – not speaking about your nerves and trying to not give any hints of it.

Instead, you treated it like any other car ride with Leon – watching the trees blow past as you went down the winding road in the middle of the woods. Singing along with him as music played, playing dumb car games like I spy.

If your destination hadn’t been such a mood ruiner, you would’ve genuinely had a good time.

As the road forked off into two paths, you told him to take the right one, knowing where it would lead. Only about 10 minutes away, your nerves began to pick up making you feel a little queasy again.

The large home came into view as his jeep wheeled into the massive multi-car driveway. It was just as you remembered it, huge, limestone painted brick covered the exterior of the walls. Hedges were trimmed and shaped, everything about it screamed ‘rich’.

“Do you want me to stay here again?”

“Yes please.”

“Are you sure, after what happened–”

“I’m fine! I will be fine. I won’t beat his mom with my crutch, if that’s what you mean.” You tried to make it sound like a joke, but the wavering of your own voice gave away that you couldn’t really be sure of that. “Look, you’re right here at the end of the driveway this time. I won’t even go inside.”

He gave that knowing look of his, but didn’t push it with you, turning off the ignition letting the vehicle come to a rest. Grabbing your crutches from the backseat, you took in one deep breath before heading to the double french doors.

The lion knocker was the same as you always remembered it, grabbing the bottom end and knocking it against the door several times. A few moments went by, but no one called out or answered. You looked around and you could see the cars were there through the garage window. Not wanting to have made Leon drive all this way for nothing, you rang the doorbell a few times.

“Alright! I’m coming, I’m coming!” The shrill voice of Mrs. Shultz came from somewhere within the house. There was a budding sense of relief beginning to come over you – there’s no way a mother could forget her very own child, surely there must’ve been something you could glean from this visit.

The doors opened, and there she was in her full glory. Hair curled into a teased perm as if it was still the 80’s, red lipstick shrewdly covered her pencil thin aged lips. She was always pursing her lips in judgment, the very stereotype of a rich stay-at-home wife – but you had never been so glad to see her as you were in this moment.

“Mrs. Shultz!” You exclaimed, arms opening in a hug. The woman did not return the gesture, in fact she took a step back as if in offense.

“Excuse me?” Her penciled-on brows came together in a disgusted look. “Who are you ?”

“I’m – you don’t recognize me?”

She eyed you up and down, clearly unimpressed with her findings. “I don’t tend to associate with the…less fortunate.”

“Mrs. Shultz, I’ve been dating Derek for the past few years. I know you never really liked me but –”

“Who?” She looked complete aghast at your words. “Young lady, I don’t know what game you’re playing at, but I have half a mind to call the police and have you removed from my property.”

“What? No, I’m not playing any game. Derek, your son? We’ve been dating–”

“Then you have the wrong house because I don’t have a son!” She snapped, heel clacking against the ground as her annoyance raised.

“Yes you do! Derek, Derek Shultz, he’s your son!” You insisted, your own frustrations growing – though you did your best to keep your promise to Leon, not wanting a repeat of the last incident.

The older woman stared you down, before leaning forward nearly nose to nose in your face.”My husband and I have never been able to have children.” She spat at you. “And I don’t know what sick mind you have to play this kind of prank, but it’s not funny.”

“I’m not trying to prank you! How the hell do you not know your own son, you gave birth to him!”

“You have five seconds to get off my property before I have someone escort you off of it.”

“How dare –”

“One.”

“Listen here you raggedy old bit–”

“Two.”

Anger fueled you this time, far more than desperation. Call it one of the five stages of grief, but she’d hit your button just right. Not wanting to assault her, you stood there, angry tears making your face puff up as your mouth conorted. You felt like a child, wanting nothing more than to scream back at the adult in front of you, but forced to stand in line while you were being berated.

“Three.”

Again you felt someone touch you from behind – this time Leon’s arm wrapped around you. “We’re just going to be leaving now.” He said, trying to move you from the spot.

“No. We. Are. Not!” You said firmly trying your best to yank out of his hold, while remaining upright.

The look he’d given you stopped any further protest you had. You’d seen Leon be annoyed before, with other people. You’ve heard him be irritated with you only once. But this, this was different and you could tell in his eyes this wasn’t a request.

He gave the woman one more nod, apologizing to her on your behalf, before walking you back to the vehicle.

“Do you know how much trouble you could’ve gotten in? Public spaces like a cafe is one thing, but one some rich lady’s private lawn?”

“I–”

“No, you promised me.”

“But I didn’t even try to –” You stopped, the feeling of him being upset with you was somehow worse than even your last failed attempt to prove that Derek existed. Like salt to the wound. “I just don’t understand how you can forget your own child.” You added.

Leon turned to look at you, his mouth opening as if he was going to say something, but instead he went back to looking in front of him as he drove. The rest of the ride home was silent, not even the sound of music was heard.

That meant you were left alone with your own thoughts – dangerous. ‘ Everything is wrong. What the fuck do I do now? ’ You pondered further, trying to piece everything together. Nothing was fitting into place though. ‘ The photos are gone. My phone has no mention of him. His own mother says he isn’t real. ’

You pushed it further, reimagining the night in the woods, forcing yourself to picture every gorey detail – even the sound of his face splitting open again. It made you sick to your stomach, a hot flash came over you. Still, you ignored it, trying to remember anything significant – but it didn’t work.

Looking down at your ankle, and the now yellowing bruises on your skin, you gave up. ‘Are these memories even real? Something clearly happened to me but…monsters don't exist. There’s no sign of him anywhere.’ A deep longing panged in your heart, settling on the idea that maybe Leon was right. Something terrible happened in the woods, something so awful your brain wasn’t working right – a psychotic break, amnesia, false memories – whatever you wanted to call it.

Could you ever even accept such a thing? The last few years of your life, just…gone – rewritten entirely.

So lost in your own thoughts, you hadn’t noticed Leon pull back into your apartment building until the sound of the jeep went silent. He got out without saying a word, only silently offering you a hand and getting the crutches for you. Nothing like your usual walks back to your respective homes, he hadn’t even invited you inside either – closing his door as soon as he entered. Of course you couldn’t relax either – if pacing with crutches had been possible, that’s what you would’ve been doing. Instead you bounced your good leg anxiously on the floor as you sat on your bed, this time clinging to the teddy bear that Leon had gifted you.

Not being able to take in anymore, you made your way over to his door, knocking on it not even caring if he was asleep this time or not. You couldn’t be alone right now, and you couldn’t let him be angry with you.

“I’m sorry.” You looked up at him the second the door opened. “I’m sorry.” You repeated for good measure. “You’ve done nothing but tote me around and take care of me no matter how absolutely insane I’ve sounded – you asked for one thing and you’re right, I didn’t keep my end of it. I’m really sorry.”

“Sweetheart, it’s alright.” His voice was soft, as looked at you. “I know that it’s been hard. I know you’re frustrated.” Despite it not being a common occurrence, the pet name comforted you more than it surprised you.

You nodded in return. “I think you were right.”

“Was I?”

“I think something bad happened to me that night – something I can’t remember, because ever since then, nothing has felt right. There’s no sign of Derek – I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just want to feel ok again Lee.” You wrapped your arms around him, and he returned the gesture, pulling you into his apartment with him and closing the door.

“It’s alright. It’s going to be alright.”

“How do you even know that?”

He tilted your chin to look up at him again. “Because I’m here. Because I say so. It’s going to be alright.”

“I don’t want to think about him anymore. I don’t want to cry anymore.”

“Then don’t think about him.” He leaned his head down, so your foreheads were touching, so his lips just barely grazed over yours as he spoke.

“Make me forget him, please Leon.”

He replied by connecting his lips to yours, his lips plush and soft. His hands moved, one in your hair to hold you in place, the other supporting your lower back. It was soft, sweet, and he pulled away just long enough to look at you again. “I can do that.” The second time your lips connected, it was in a frenzy of heated kisses as he walked you both backwards to his couch, sitting and pulling you down on top of him. He was careful of your bad leg, gently pulling it into place where you were straddling him.

You could feel him filling out beneath you, your own arousal making itself known. This was what you’d been craving for so long. Craving since you and Der– you froze again, looking down at Leon. He mimicked you, halting any movement, looking into your eyes – you could see the concern there.

Guilt.

He wasn’t real.

But the guilt.

You shouldn’t feel guilty over someone who never existed.

And yet, guilt.

“I can’t do this.”

He looked at you confused.

“I’m sorry Leon, I can’t do this. You’re one of my best friends, I – we shouldn’t be doing this.” You backed yourself off of him slowly, using the coffee table and then the wall to support yourself back to the hallway to grab your crutches.

“Wait –” He called out, standing but not immediately following you.

“God, I am so sorry.” You repeated again, opening his door. The look on his face killed you, and you couldn’t even put into words what was wrong. Why you couldn’t handle this right now, or maybe ever. Instead of trying, you left as fast as your crutches would take you back to your own apartment – not even bothering to close his door behind you.

“Fuck!” You shouted once you were inside your living room, slumping to the floor. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Mega FUCK!” You let it out of your system as you banged your head backwards into the wall, not enough to damage anything, but enough to try and work out the unexplainably icky feeling you had.

Logically, there was no way the man you’d fallen in love with was real. Logically . But something inside of you just ate at you – like a small 6th sense telling you not to trust what was before you. And god if you weren’t fucked in the head for using Leon to try and work your emotions out – treat him like a tool, just a distraction after all he did for you.

And if Derek was real, then you’re double fucked for just running off with the man you weren’t even supposed to be friends with, much less anything more.

You screamed into your own hands, until your voice was raw. “I’m so fucking fucked!” Either you were insane, or some cosmic universal event had entirely fucked up your life – and you weren’t sure which was worse.

As always this is inspired by @explorevenus fic Something Permanent as well as @gigabyte-flare, @girldungeon, and @lipglossanon's work. @elfven-blog was so kind as to help find the banner pics. Love them all, go check out their work.

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tengensbunny · 2 years

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𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐞 (𝐚𝐝𝐣) - 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐧, 𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜➩ 𝐚 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ➩ 𝘈 𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘯 𝘈𝘜 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘗𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘑𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 [𝘧/𝘯] 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘢𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ➩ 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐠. 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐤𝐚

➩ 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 || 𝟏𝟖+

➩ 𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐯𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

A series of kisses were pressed against her neck, before they trailed down towards her collarbone area. She let out a pleasurable groan as a familiar musky scent invaded her senses.

“Have fun without me Princess?” Sabito smiled as she popped one eye open to look at him before closing it again, cuddling further into the sheets.

Giyuu merely watched the two interact as he laid beside the girl. One arm rested behind his head while the other draped across his abs, that duvet hanging loosely over his hips.

“No.” she sang out, playfully elongating the ‘o’.

“You telling me you’re not naked under these sheets Princess?” Sabito grinned, his hands traveling up her body before stopping at the top of the blanket, getting ready to rip it off.

“You should just join me and come find out for yourself.” she purred, causing Sabito to chuckle.

“You’re not as shy as you were 3 month ago Princess. I like that.” releasing the blanket from his hold, he moved to lay beside her, so that she was sandwiched in between the two males. “As much as I’d love to join you, Giyuu and I have a business meeting to attend.”

Giyuu frowned at his friend’s words. “Can’t you just do it?” he asked, turning so that he was laying on his side. [f/n] was quick to cuddle into his chest as he did, bringing a smile to the Pillar’s face. Sabito’s eyes wandered down the naked skin of her back before traveling lower and lower, until he was greeted by the sight of her lacy panties.

“No, they want both of us to be there.” Sabito replied, his eyes lingering on her ass a little longer, “Plus don’t you have class today Princess? It’s 9:30 already.”

“What’s today?” she mumbled, not wanting to get out of bed just yet.

“Friday.”

Just like that she shot up in bed clutching the sheets against her chest. “What!”

Giyuu frowned as she crawled towards the end of the bed, grabbing the first article of clothing she could find, which so happened to be his shirt.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, as he watched the girl frantically collect her belongings. “I- nothing don’t worry about it!” she called out, slamming the bathroom door behind her.

The two males shared a look before shrugging their shoulders in unison.

“You might as well start getting dressed.” Sabito grinned, throwing Giyuu some of his clothes that were strewn across the floor. “Doesn’t look like she’s up for a round two.” he laughed, catching the pillow Giyuu threw at him.

She stared at her reflection in horror. Oh my god you can tell I had sex!

As she waited for the water to heat up, she peered at her phone that was on the verge of dying.

75 missed calls

20 new voicemails

Yuichirou: 101 unread messages

Muichirou: 105 unread messages

Too afraid to open any of them, she set her phone down and took a quick shower.

“Hey wait what's the hurry?” Sabito was quick to grab a hold of the girl before she could make it out the door. Her hair was slightly damp from her shower, but everything else was perfectly intact. She had applied a light layer of makeup over her features and a thick layer of concealer over the various hickeys Giyuu had left her. “Aren’t you gonna eat first?”

“I’ll eat later.” she responded, moving to leave once more, only to be stopped yet again.

“Is something wrong?” this time it was Giyuu who asked. There was a glint of concern in his eyes as he eyed the girl in Sabito’s hold.

“It’s nothing, I’m just late.” she smiled, before finally breaking out of Sabito’s grasp, “I’ll text you when I’m home!” she shouted, just as the door was about to close.

She was quick to push her way through the crowd as she rushed home.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she apologized as she bumped into a stranger, knocking his phone out of his hands. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“You don’t look at your messages either.”

Her heart dropped at the familiarity of the stranger’s voice. “I’m sorry Yuichirou, I fell asleep at my friend’s house when we were doing our project.”

“You didn’t even come to our audition this morning! And on top of that you didn’t answer your phone all night!”

[f/n] visibly flinched at the harshness of her younger brother’s tone. “Yui, that’s enough. It’s finals week, I’m sure Ne-san’s been tired from Uni and work.” Muichirou wrapped his arms around his sister’s torso, comforting the girl as Yuichirou continued to glare at her.

“But Yui does have a point Ne-san, you didn’t answer any of our calls or our texts! We didn’t even know who’s house you were staying at.” Muichirou’s eyes lingered on the thick layer of concealer that covered his elder sister’s neck, before they flickered up to meet her gaze.

“I know I’m sorry, I was just really busy that's all. How about I treat you guys for breakfast?”

“Soufflé pancakes?” Muichirou beamed with excitement.

“Sure, if that’s what you guys want.”

The two turned to look at Yuichirou who merely sighed at their puppy dog expressions. “I expect a call back or at least a text next time.” he murmured, wrapping his arms around the girl, “We can’t lose you too.”

Giyuu’s expression brightened at the sight of [f/n] entering the restaurant, but sank once he noticed their was a boy’s arm wrapped around her waist.

He watched as they chatted and laughed amongst themselves. His grip tightening around his utensils as he watched the two males be all touchy with his sugar baby.

“So how did the audition go?” she asked, before taking a sip of her latte.

“Great! We actually have call back next Saturday.” Yuichirou beamed, grinning as his sister reached over to wipe the sugar off his face.

“Aren’t you going to eat anything?” Muichirou frowned once he realized she hadn’t ordered anything except for her latte.

“No, I’m not that hungry.” she smiled, resting her chin against the palm of her hand as she continued to watch the two eat, “Plus I’m getting full from just watching the two of you.” she joked.

The two boys stopped eating and placed their forks down. Reaching over the table, they gently placed their hands over their sister’s. “Ne-san, if you’re struggling to pay for everything we can get a part time-”

“No!” [f/n] was quick to cut her younger sibling off, “I mean, it’s fine. Everything is fine, so just focus on your studies.”

With the money she had been getting from the Pillars, rent and electricity bills were no longer a problem. However, she couldn’t just whip out all this cash from thin air and just start spending all the money she had gotten.

The two would definitely question where the money was coming from, and she didn’t have the heart to tell them what she had been doing for the past couple of months.

The more she thought about it, the more she recalled the events that occurred last night.

“Look at me,” Giyuu murmured against the curve of her neck as he looked at the girl through the mirror. Her half lidded eyes met his lustful gaze, bringing a smile to his face.

He continued to gently bounce the girl in his lap, with one hand rubbing gentle circles against her clit while the other one pulled at her nipple.

Her pleasurable expression filled Giyuu with a sense of pride. He moved both hands so that they were gripping her hips, lifting her up almost all the way off his cock, only to slam her back down again. She threw her head back in pleasure, a series of moans escaping her lips as Giyuu repeated his actions.

Giyuu’s soft grunts turned into groans as he felt her walls tighten around his length. Gripping it in a way where he was certain she was trying to milk him dry.

His name was the only thing that left her lips. Almost as if she was chanting a mantra. With a soft cry she came around the male, her walls spasming around his cock in the best way possible, sending Giyuu to chase after his own orgasm.

Flipping the girl over, he positioned her so that she was bent over the bed. His hips thrusting into her at a fast pace. The sound of their skin smacking accompanied by pleasurable sobs filled the air as she fisted the sheets beneath her hands.

Giyuu let out a throaty groan as he finally reached his orgasm. Her body twitching as she felt the hot spurts of his cum filling her up.

His hands were on either side of the girl supporting his weight as he tried his best not to crush her.

She whimpered at the feeling of him slowly starting to move again.

“I-I can’t”

“One more.” he grunted, “You can do that for me, can’t you Princess?”

If Giyuu could have it his way, they’d be going all night.

He just couldn’t get enough of his precious Sugar Baby.

“Are you okay Ne-san?” Muichirou asked, pressing the back of his hand against his sister’s forehead. “You’re looking a little flushed.

"I’m fine Mui, it’s just a little warm in here that’s all. Maybe it’s from my latte.”

She tried her best to ignore the heat that had risen to her cheeks along with the dull ache that had formed in between her legs. Fuck.

“You know Ne-san, you’ve been going out more recently,” Yuichirou started off, placing his fork down, “You leave randomly during the day looking dolled up and sometimes you don’t even come home… So Mui and I were wondering, do you have a boyfriend or something?”

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 | 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐

#demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #giyuu x reader #giyuu tomioka x reader #tomioka giyu x reader #demon slayer smut #kny smut #kimetsu no yaiba smut #giyuu smut #giyuu tomioka smut #tomioka giyuu smut #demon slayer imagines #kny imagines #kimetsu no yaiba imagines

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bitten-fruit · 8 days

Text

Houndtooth | ⇦ Chapter 3 ⇨

Ghost x f!Reader - tags: slow burn, enemies to lovers, abduction, bodyguard, forced cooperation, smut

18+ mdni - cw: kidnapping - 3.4k words

𝐈𝐈𝐈. 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞

“I’ll freeze to death.”

You utter, voice low and tense; your cadence despite your effort is sheepish, as though you’re exerting every effort to reassert yourself as brave and unflinching. A mask to veil the shivering little rabbit you must spend most of your life trying to conceal.

Ghost isn’t fooled by your disguise, by your attempts to obfuscate your vulnerability – no, he can scent your panic, that frightened wee animal at the centre of you, hidden beneath the baiting curves of your flesh. He might be able to see its reflection glistening in your nervous eyes, once he’s able to rip that sack off your head.

The thought tempts a vengeful smirk that tugs at his lips. One he wished you could see, if only to witness your quaint bravery be exsanguinated from you at the sight of his amusement.

Still, you’re not wrong.

The dry air of the midwinter night must be dipping below the double-digit negatives. A frigid cold that Ghost himself had scarcely noticed on his expedition to your estate – shielded by many layers; woollen fleece under windbreaker under thick, gore-tex parka, face kept warm by his balaclava, fingers protected from frostbite by waterproof gloves.

It’s a short ride to exfil by snowmobile, less than ten minutes – but, in all likelihood, long enough that the exposure could kill you by the time he hauled you to the helicopter.

Long enough that it might freeze the mucus of your throat and lungs into crystalline shards, might blacken and petrify your extremities, might have your exposed skin sloughing off in a few days' time.

Ghost knows he must return you to base alive. But, alive is the only condition that is expected of him. No expectation of unharmed. So, he is left to place bets on whether you’ll survive the journey.

He could make a sport of it.

He plays with your possible fates as though they were marbles in the palm of his hand, rolling them between fingers and uncaring if he drops them.

“You might,” he chides gruffly, finally offering you a response. “It’d be your own fault for wearing a fuckin’ tissue.”

His glower scrutinises you as he releases his hand from the doorknob, whose rattling must have informed you that he intended to drag you outdoors. He keeps his other gripped around your bicep, wrenchingly tight, he anticipates, hopes, that his grasp might leave bruises on your soft skin. You, slippery vermin, seem liable to flee at any moment, so he justifies it to himself.

He watches your chest rapidly rise and fall, gratuitously exposed décolletage shimmering with a thin coating of sweat, it glows silky in the moonlight that illuminates you.

You, standing as still as you can muster, covered only by your peony pink lingerie and a black hood over your head, hands bound with thick black cable ties – look like a scene out of a snuff film.

Maybe you’ll end up in one.

He finds himself silently appreciative you don’t have the satisfaction of seeing how long his hedonistic glare lingers on your cleavage; on the tightening of the edges of your lacy cups, cutting into the swell of your breasts with each of your quaking breaths, allowing them to pillow out of the top.

Still, a small derisive scoff escapes you through the fabric. “I didn’t anticipate an outing.”

You facetious little shit. Almost makes him laugh.

Fine.

With a shrill rip of Velcro, he tears open one of the flaps of a pocket on his tactical vest, plucking out a loudly rustling emergency blanket; a foil shawl folded neatly into a rectangle the size of a playing card, tucked into a plastic pouch.

You step onto your back foot in an anxious reflex at the noise, little rabbit, maybe you’re expecting the worst. He hopes you are.

But he’s doing you a favour. He grimaces in revulsion at the acknowledgement of that fact. Resents that you might be thankful for it. Tells himself it’s for the good of the mission – nothing more, nothing less. Reminds himself how much he’d otherwise relish in watching your skin turn indigo, left exposed to be ruined by the fatal ice of your country’s stark winter.

Unwrapping it promptly, he tosses the thin foil to unfurl it, before floating it behind you. He pulls it over your shoulders, watching you wince at the sensation of it brushing against your bare skin. With rough haste he grabs hold your bound wrists, tugging them upwards and shoving the edges of the foil into your grip.

“Thanks,” you murmur, a disingenuous show of sarcastic gratitude, as you roll your shoulders to adjust its coverage, holding the emergency cape tightly in your bound hands. The fabric of your hood sucks inward against your nose and mouth as you draw in a lengthy breath.

“Don’t thank me,” he grunts, as he finally unlocks and pulls open the gargantuan, ostentatious entrance to your mansion; a towering double door, two thick slabs of carved wood. The frigid gale immediately floods into the gaudy foyer, forcing him to squint, its iciness pricking shards at his eyes and threatening to freeze solid the water that lubricates them.

“Rgh – fuck,” you groan through gritted teeth, faltering bravery quickly giving way to squeaking panic. Your entire body tenses at the sudden gust of ice, toes curling and head twisting away from the blast of ice.

He spectates amusedly as you immediately pull the thin foil to better cover yourself, admires as you struggle to do so while your wrists are bound.

He adds, “…only delaying the inevitable.”

Your negligée billows in the invasive wind, exposing your skin even further to the frost; not to say that otherwise it would do much to protect you from it.

He takes an impatient grip of the back of your neck, the impact of his palm on your nape loud enough to emit a smack. He burrows his fingers into the fleshy bands of your tendons, driving you ruthlessly you towards the exit. Holds you upright by the neck like trapped game as you stumble over your bare feet.

“Move.”

You didn’t expect to be gracious of the sack the dog had secured over your head.

Your unstable breathing warms your cheeks, the hot vapour of your adrenaline pumping from your lungs is trapped in by the thick black cotton, preventing the membranes of your nostrils freezing solid.

The vice like grip of your hunter has not faltered, dragging you by the neck down the winding stone steps of your estate – the slabs free of snow by virtue of the heated coils beneath them, a renovation you yourself had requested. Of course, your husband had obliged.

But your abductor isn’t steering you down your driveway, it seems, as you are instead led off the path.

A gasping shriek jumps from your throat as your feet touch the layer of powder, snow packing between your toes; the frost immediately burns the soles as though you tread over shattered glass.

“Where are we going,” you question through a clenched jaw, chattering with the cold, having to push your weak voice out of your seizing diaphragm.

As you had anticipated, he says nothing.

Stays dead silent, the peculiar beast.

You’re frightened of him. Suddenly unconfident in your attempts to read him.

It’s typically your strongest talent, a perfectly honed skill – reading men.

Every one of them like a children’s book, predilections and intentions so blatant that they may as well have been scribbled in crayon. They believe wholeheartedly that they are mysterious, too cunning to be understood, so mistaken in their conceit; expecting that you as a mere woman are simply unable to comprehend them.

Yet you have made a craft of determining what makes each one tick. Disassembling them like the gears and screws of a clock, surveying their quirks and components through your looking glass.

Once reduced to their basic constituents, their most primordial parts, they are all the same. Always want the same thing. Always boil down to the same creature.

Dogs.

You’ve gotten good at baiting them. Leashing them. Taming them.

This one is guarded. Keeps his teeth bared, keeps you guessing when he might maul you.

So far, the only quirk of this one that you been able to deduce is that he wants you to be scared of him. Doing his best to terrorise you with his threats while enacting none of them.

If he wanted to hurt you, or rape you, or kill you, countless opportunities to do so have been presented to him. You’ve been offered up to him so freely you may as well have been gifted to him wrapped in a bow.

And yet, he hasn’t unwrapped you.

That’s where your scrutiny has failed you. Like static distorting a radio signal.

He provides you no tells. Tips no hand.

He continues to act as though he is yet to impart his worst upon you. Vague about his intentions with you, in spite of his wandering eye. At least that is consistent with what you would expect from any of the dogs you have so far encountered. Acts too good, too moral, too chaste to take you; yet still gropes and licks and fingers and fucks you with his wanton glower. All the same.

His claws cut deep into the cartilage of your neck as though he might hang you from it, unaffected by your whimpers nor your looming hypothermia. You feel it sinking beneath your skin. Freezes your nerves, turns the blood in your arteries into icy sludge, sends your muscles into irrepressible spasms. Your lungs ache, forced to suck down the very air that will inevitably freeze them solid.

You gasp as you feel your knees knock against something solid; the dull ring of thick metal.

His talons release your neck, finally, though you find yourself immediately longing for the warmth of his grip – the nape of your neck prickling with gooseflesh as it’s bitten by the frigid cold.

Quick to thwart your opportunity at freedom, he takes prompt hold of you, gloved hands shoving past your foil cape and tucking under your arms. You squeak as you are lifted, uncertain how high off the ground you might be, though grateful that your frozen feet are finally free from their bed of snow.

You’re lowered, then, your feet and ankles quickly parted by whatever frosty metal is now beneath you – then he drops you, and you land on your pelvis with a sore thud, abruptly bestriding whatever vehicle it must be. A snowmobile, you suspect.

You feel him mount the vehicle behind you, his form hulking even when you can’t see it. You feel his breathing through the fabric on the top of your head. Heaving thighs on either side of you, you’re nestled between them. He even tugs you back with an arm hooked around your stomach, so you’re pressed more firmly against him, prevented from wriggling free. A couple fewer layers of gear and his body heat might even bring you comfort.

Through his touch alone he seems unbothered by your proximity, by the pressure of your ass against his crotch. Not lascivious, though not disquieted. Steals no grabs, no rogue touches of any of your more intimate parts – though you’re not daft enough to assume he would shy away from it.

You can feel the fleshy mass behind his trousers despite the thickness of the weatherproof fabric. Formidable even soft.

Perhaps you could tempt him.

With just a shimmy, an innocent readjustment of your ass between his legs – you offer just a touch more pressure. You might bump against him while he rides through the snow, might feel that pliable weight turn rigid against your back.

You admit that he doesn’t seem the type to offer you special treatment if you offered your cunt to him. He’s made it known that he thinks you’re a slut, after all. In your experience, though, it works in your favour most of the time. Where’s the harm in trying?

But you feel the fabric of your sack hood twitch and quiver as his head lowers beside yours, he growls into your ear;

“That’s not gonna help you.”

Fine. Whatever.

Worth a shot.

It sounded as though he had uttered it through a grin; a very slight, near imperceptible drip of amusement in his malicious tone.

But, with your hands bound, near naked, and blinded, your survival is dependent on him. Rather, it's entirely up to him.

So you play it cool.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you sheepishly respond, sweet and naïve, you get back into character.

He huffs derisively, impatiently, perhaps. You let his arms envelop you as they reach for what must be the handles of the snowmobile in front of you, quickly deafened by the roar of the engine as he tugs on the throttle.

Your body is abruptly forced backwards, tossed against him like a ragdoll as he suddenly accelerates - your fabric mask now provides you utterly no protection from the icy wind as it breaks through the weave. Your foil cape billows in the gale of his speed, rendering you entirely defenceless against the vicious knives of the cold as he speeds through the snow.

Dropping your head, curling inwards on instinct, you find yourself nestling deeper into his shrouding form if only to shield yourself from the deathly cold he has purposefully exposed you to.

After what feels like an agonising hour of having your bare skin dragged over a steel grater, you feel the snowmobile begin to decelerate, its roaring engine growing quieter and eventually grunting to a stop.

You had thought you might be granted a reprieve from the painful gusting wind once the mobile finally came to a halt; but you’re still in a whirlwind of ice and glass, so disoriented you feel as though you’ve been spun on your heel and then cast out into the barren wilderness to find your own way.

In the malevolent hurricane you lose your grip on your foil blanket, your only respite, it flies off into the ambiguous void of black forced upon you by your hood.

But that mechanical thunder is unmistakable – an aircraft you were well acquainted with. A helicopter.

A transport you frequented in your days of luxury, often to your warmer getaway home further south. To your Petit Trianon, another gift from your husband – one that acted as a clear means of getting rid of you for weeks at a time. Not that you complained.

The begrudging protection of your hunter is stolen from you as he dismounts, leaving you utterly exposed to the blizzard, shivering with such intensity that your muscles burn with the acid they involuntarily excrete.

But you’re quickly hauled off the vehicle, gloved grip under your arms once again, picked up with ease as you feel your body get tossed over his shoulder like a sack of flour. His thick arm hooks over your hip, you feel the veil of your babydoll flutter up and expose your bare ass to the icy gale - it humiliates you as if spanking you with its frozen hand.

You hear the metallic rumble of a rolling door amidst the bellow of the rotating blades.

“’Bout fuckin’ time.” The irate roar of a new man.

You bounce on the shoulder in your stomach as you are carried within, listening as the door is slammed shut. After a few steps you are unceremoniously dropped onto a seat, a weak yelp escapes you at the pain of the impact.

“Jesus fucking Christ, LT.” Yet another. Scottish.

LT. Lieutenant? Military?

Blind and defenceless, you stay seated but adjust yourself so that you sit upright, exerting every effort to catch your breath and steady your chattering bones. But despite effort, your body rolls around in its seat as the helicopter presumably begins its wobbly ascent.

“What?” Your hunter growls.

“Couldn’t give her a jacket?”

“Why the fuck would I do that.”

“It’s negative fifteen out there. Look at her, she’s just about blue.”

“Mm. Maybe I should’ve given her the chance to pick out her favourite mink coat, eh?”

You hear a huff of laughter from another man. “You just wanted to keep her in her knickers.”

“Mh. Might loosen up her husband.”

A chortle. “Could loosen up anybody.”

Dogs.

You stay silent and listen shrewdly.

“Bravo Six to Gold Eagle Actual – double jackpot. We’re RTB.”

Military, you are now certain. You can tell by the codeword gibberish without needing to understand it. You wish now that you had watched enough Western war movies to be able to translate it – but they’re all banned in Russia, of course.

There’s a quiet murmur of a static-ridden voice emerging from a radio, but it is drowned out by the humming of the helicopter.

“Fuck’d you do to Zakhaev?” Your hunter asks, throaty voice almost taunting.

Your husband. Was he in the aircraft with you? Could you call for him?

“Squealed like a pig when he came to. Knocked him out again.” The Scotsman.

But, in spite of your effort to distinguish them, the unfamiliar voices quickly begin to blur together.

“Tracks.”

“Separate them before he wakes up.”

“Why?” A new voice.

“Can’t have him knowing that we’ve got her already. We need to surprise him with it.”

“Kinda fucked up, Cap.”

“Ts’all in a days work, Sergeant.”

Captain. Sergeant. British Army? Airforce?

There’s a few moments of silence, you shuffle disquietly in your seat. Oh, if only you could see what was happening. It was already hard enough to hear them over the roaring of the chopper. Deaf, dumb, and blind.

“Christ, she’s a looker, though, isn’t she?” The Sergeant.

A chuckle follows from the Scotsman. “Can’t even see her face, mate.”

“Don’t need to.”

“Never know. Could be all botched by filler and botox and shite. All those fuckin’ oligarchs are.”

“Mm. Nah. I’ve seen the photos.”

“Take a long hard look at ‘em, did ye?”

“Definitely hard. Dunno about long.”

A laugh. “You nasty fucker.”

Dogs.

You’re even further discomforted by the fact that your hunter knows you can understand every single word that these men are uttering around you. And, evidently, feels no need to inform his comrades that you know exactly what they are saying about you.

He wants you to feel uncomfortable.

He wants you nervous.

You hear the thud of boots against the metal floor, uncertain of whose nor which direction they are coming from, though they approach you. You shrivel on instinct, curling in on yourself to hide your near-nudity from whichever of the lecherous men is standing before you.

You jump, squeaking in fright as something heavy is tossed around your shoulders. Fabric. Wool, judging by the thickness and scratchiness of it; you use your bound hands to grab at the edges of it to blanket yourself, finally able to conceal your body from them.

“Согрейтесь.” Warm yourself up.

The Captain, if you remember his rumbling cadence correctly.

“You’re too soft, Cap. She’s a prisoner of war not a fuckin’ damsel.” Your hunter.

The man who had given you the blanket addresses him. “We need her alive, don’t we? I’m keeping her alive.”

“Fuck’s sake. She’ll be fine.”

The charitable one speaks to you again, voice low and close, as though he has bent down intending for only you to hear it.

“Он ничего тебе не сделал, да?” He didn’t do anything to you, did he?

“Oh, piss off. Who do you think I am?” Your abductor immediately disputes, having apparently overheard.

You consider your options. Maybe this captain could take pity on you, if you played your cards right. You can deduce his type through his words and actions already. Nobleman. White knight. It’s a façade, of course. If he’s a captain as the others say, he has probably orchestrated this entire operation.

Though, inexplicably, you decide honesty is your safest course. You want an ally out of your hunter.

“Нет, он меня не трогал.” No, he didn’t touch me.

“Told you.” Your hunter grunts.

A laboured sigh follows from the captain. “I never know with you, Riley.”

He scoffs disdainfully.

Leaves an ugly silence.

“I’m not an animal.”

Next chapter ⇨

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