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johnwickb1tsch · 10 months ago

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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 · 1 year ago

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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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chokedonaturtle · 11 months ago

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my humanized cars headcanons

Tow Mater Edition

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- Mater grew up in the countryside / suburb mountains, kinda fending for himself

- he was around 10 when he stumbled into radiator springs when he got off on the wrong stop of the greyhound and good ol Sheriff found him just standing there like 𖠋

- Big Al sorta took him under his wing until he left once Mater was a big boy

- Can’t cook for shit on a conventional stove BUT can make a mean BBQ anything

- Got his truck at a scrapyard and fixed it up with Doc’s help

- LOVES little nicknacks and makes everyone special little things out of scrap

made Doc a tiny hudson hornet keychain and Doc keeps it on his keys

Lightning got a piston cup made of scrap the year of the tiebreaker

even Tex got a tiny little dino wearing a cowboy hat that he keeps on his desk bc he thinks it’s silly !!

- Mater has no balance whatsoever

bro is always walking in a zigzag and lightning has to physically restrain him to one side

- he makes Red cry ALL THE TIME and doesn’t mean to 😭

Mater: “damn it’s witherin’ season already???” 🥀

Red: 😫💦

- you thought tex was tall?? this kid is like 100 feet tall bro (he’s 6’3……) 🧍‍♂️

- memorized all the eye charts in Doc’s clinic and now Doc has no idea if Mater can see or not (he can’t)

- has the worst attention span

Mater: “doc my bones be hurtin”

Doc: “where point to it”

Mater: “… point to who… crazy old man 🤨🤨”

AND

will ONLY remember something if it’s told to him when he’s not giving you 100% of his attention

🚫 NO

Doc: “and you… because… when… in case…”

Mater: “uh huh yes sir 🤨❓(fuk he say????)”

✅ YES

Lightning: “so we have to be out of here by 6:30 if we wanna get there by 10”

Mater: “do re me fa, so le ti do. 🐢🪇 (core memory unlocked!!)”

- is the reason the sheriff sleeps so much during the day and FAR away from Mater

bro has to be supervised at night bc

1. he’s afraid of the ghost light and cries if he’s alone

2. goes cow tipping

3. wakes people up bc he’s bored

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀

that is all from me again KACHOW

#tow mater #is your name tow mater too #is it just me or does kachigga sound like a bad word #don’t say that chick #cars #cars fandom #cars headcanons #lightning mcqueen #doc hudson #sheriff cars #tex dinoco #cars 1 #cars 2 #cars 3 #i love cars vroom vroom

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chex-appreciation-week · 10 months ago

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Chex week will be happening from October 13th through the 19th!

And with that, we also get the official announcement of the prompts!

There are no limits or rules to how these can be interpreted. You can go as literal or as artsy or silly as you want with them, the skies the limit!

Day 1: Memory

As they always say: memory is the key. Maybe it’s a simple reflection on the past, maybe it’s the fact that they’re the literal manifestations of someone else’s memories, a reflection of a once great love… or perhaps Church just forgot to close the damn cabinet again.

Day 2: Fluff

Our favorite doomed duo is no stranger to angst and tragedy… so let’s give them a break! Let them enjoy some domestic bliss for once, and spend time in each other’s company without the overbearing burden of being doomed by the narrative. Just this once.

Day 3: Family

These two found their own little family inside of a box canyon, consisting of idiots and morons but they are their idiots and morons… or perhaps you want to go further back in time to when there was just Leonard and Allison and a beautiful baby girl and the future seemed so much brighter… or maybe Church and Tex just adopted a cat

Day 4: AU

Now they’re medieval knights fighting to save the kingdom! Or maybe Church is the super grumpy coffee shop barista with a crush on the cool tattoo artist across the street! Or maybe it’s the same story we all know… but that one moment played out differently… the universes are infinite!

Day 5: Cycle

History repeats itself, time is a flat circle, however, you want to put it there’s no denying the cycle of Leonard Church and Agent Texas. A story destined to be repeated again and again until it finally breaks… or perhaps they’re just teaching Caboose how to ride a bicycle, who knows!

Day 6: Goodbye

Don’t say goodbye… I hate goodbyes… but at the end of the day, you have to let go and say those dreaded words. You have to accept that some people are truly gone. Or sometimes you just don’t get to say those words at all… or maybe… well actually I don’t know how to make this one silly

Day 7: Free Day

Make whatever you like! It can be anything and everything, maybe expand on a previous idea, create a whole new world, or make something sad or silly or soft! This is your day to shine!

As said before any and all content is welcome in this event! Art, fanfic, meta, analysis, playlists, memes etc! If it’s Chex I’ll take it! My only rule is NO AI GENERATED CONTENT!

The tags for this event will be #chex appreciation week and #chex appreciation week 2024

#agent texas #leonard church #red vs blue #rvb #rvb chex #rvb church #rvb tex #rvb Allison #allison church #rvb the Director #the director #rvb alpha #rvb beta #rvb epsilon #Chex appreciation week #Chex appreciation week 2024 #info post

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cakepoppresent · 6 months ago

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Kicked Puppy

They can't stay mad at each other for too long ~

Previous - Next

Transcript under the cut~

[Malcolm]: Hey...

[Luna]: Do I know you?

[Malcolm]: Luna...

[Luna]: I’m going to call the POLICE. “Hello? 911?”

[Malcolm]: I’m trying to apologize

[Luna]: Is that right? That’s crazy why would a stranger want to say sorry?

[Malcolm]: I know I've been a complete dick. I don’t really have an excuse but I miss you and I'm sorry

[Luna]: Is that it?

[Malcolm]: How I treated you wasn’t right. I keep saying I don’t want you to get hurt but I’m the one who’s scared of being hurt. I’ve always been the scared one and I can’t keep forcing you to be scared with me. I acted like a complete dick and punished you for trying to do something I didn’t agree with and that was wrong of me.

[Luna]: At your big age you’re still acting like a petulant child. At what point did I ever give you the impression I was scared or worried? Hmm?

[Malcolm]: ...

[Luna]: You lashed at me TWICE about this and you refuse to at least listen to me. That's not fair how do I know you won’t just get mad again? You apologizing won’t stop me from reaching out to Andre.

[Malcolm]: I know you want to see Andre...and I want to be there when you do

[Luna] No way! So you can cuss him out in person? Absolutely not.

[Malcolm]: I mean it Luna. I want to be there when you speak with Andre, I still think he’s a fucking bitch but I can hold those feelings back if it means being there with you

[Luna]: Malcolm...

[Malcolm]: I’m serious. I want to support whatever you want to do, I’ll be there every step of the way

[Luna]: Don’t you want to know what happened? He just disappeared does that sound like the Andre we know? The one who would take us out of the house if Dad was in a mood? Or would come to our teacher-parent meetings?

[Malcolm]: Does it matter? Didn’t leave a letter, send a tex or even a fucking email

[Luna]: I’m just...worried. Even when our business was exposed all over the news, Dad didn’t even reach out once.

[Malcolm]: Like I said. It’s always just been us but if you really want to find out why I’ll be there no matter what we find out

[Malcolm]: Listen. I love you Luna you mean everything to me

[Luna]: Even more than Benji?

[Malcolm]: Of course. He knows that too but that's not the point. I’m sorry and I’ll make it up to you no matter what but please believe me when I say I'll be there for you no matter what happens

[Luna]: *heh* Look at you. You look like a kicked puppy, have you been crying?

[Malcolm]: Of course not, stop talking shit. Do you accept my apology or not?

[Luna]: Oh?? I don’t think so with that bitch ass attitude

[Malcolm]: Shut the hell up. I have your fav from Santini's its in the car. I’ll drop you off at home

[Luna]: *hmph* How does Benji deal with your horrible attitude

[Malcolm]: I don’t know either. You’re gonna have to ask him yourself

[Luna]: Poor Benji. Can’t imagine having to deal with your ass everyday

[Malcolm]: Do you want the food in the car or should I throw it in the garbage?

[Luna]: I’m going to beat your ass for real

[Luna]: Oh! I know the loser that exposed our family business. I dealt with her ass today

[Malcolm]: An actress?? What the hell was her problem?

[Luna]: I don’t know but I doubt I'll be hearing from her silly ass anytime soon

[Malcolm]: Something like that seems below you. Why pay her any attention?

[Luna]: Because her face pissed me off. Let’s hope I never have to see her face again

#sims 4 #sims 4 screenshots #sims #thereevesfamily #black simblr #ts4 legacy #ts4 simblr #ts4 screenies #ts4 stories #ts4 story

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tyrantisterror · 4 months ago

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Wife Goals Post-Mortem

Man, I love referring to something as a post-mortem. It's so needlessly grim.

I hope you all enjoyed Wife Goals! I will most likely never do it again. And if you didn't enjoy it, hey, good news, I will most likely never do it again! I put entirely too much effort AND emotional vulnerability into this silly fan project and, uh, yeah, probably gonna be a one-off.

So I'm gonna be indulgent one last time and mention some ladies who didn't make the cut.

Stella Richmond from Scarlet Hollow was soooo close to getting in. She's an incredibly well-written character and I love her very dearly, and not just because she allowed me to live out the fantasy of being asked to brunch by a wide-hipped brunette lady only for it to turn out to be an elaborate ploy for her to convince me to be her camera-man while she goes cryptid-hunting. The only reason I didn't include her in the lineup is that Scarlet Hollow is currently unfinished, and, like... with ladies like Karlach and Edelgard and, you know, The Princess (whose game was made by the same team as Scarlet Hollow), SO MUCH important stuff is revealed about them when the story wraps up. So much of what makes Karlach meaningful to me is how her arc finishes off in Baldur's Gate 3, and with how well-written Scarlet Hollow already is, I have no doubt that the ending is going to make some very important moments in Stella's arc (as well as those of the other characters). So Stella's gonna have to wait for her game to be finished before I can gush about her to the same embarassing degree I did with The Princess - but if I ever do a Wife Goals 2, she'll be on the shortlist.

I watched a lot of Teen Titans when I was a teenager, and as a result Raven from that show is just as near and dear to my heart (and formative to my romantic tastes) as Ryoko Hakubi and Hexadecimal. And she's definitely a well-written enough character that I could gush about her in detail - but she's also, y'know, a teenager, and it feels really icky to include a teenage character in something called Wife Goals. She's more "girl I would have crushed on in high school" goals. And while I feel it's perfectly normal to, like, have fond nostalgic memories about someone you crushed on when you were a teenager (real or no), we're on the Piss on the Poor reading comprehension website, and I don't want to give ammunition to the five or so people who hateread my blog and look for reason to crucify me because I talked shit about Star Wars once or whatever.

Alcina Dimitrescu from Resident Evil 8 is one of my favorite character designs of all time, and I love that we finally got a mascot monster in that series who's a big scary lady to go with all the big scary dudes. But while she is given some personality and motivations, there just isn't that much to unpack with her. She's an evil murder monster, she loves her daughters, she's loyal to her creator, and she bickers with her fellow boss monsters. That's basically it. All of my feelings on her could basically be summarized as "Tex Avery Wolf Reaction Gif."

So that's a wrap on Wife Goals! But what did we learn? Well, I think I can sum it up with this video I found:

youtube

#Wife Goals #Stella Richmond #Raven #Alcina Dimitrescu

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sabotourist · 1 year ago

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Some thoughts on season 19

This is probably going to be one of the most personal things I ever post on social media. But I have some thoughts.

Sarge and Doc died. Doc wasn't even killed on-screen. Was barely even mentioned until the end. He died having only saved two people in his entire career as a medic. Sarge died, and Donut wasn't even there to see it happen.

Was he off grieving Doc? Was he just doing other stuff? I don't know. But he was gone.

Why was he actually gone? Probably for budget reasons. Time constraints. Studio trouble and issues with the engine or model or whatever else. Writing constraints that forced Donut and Doc into such secondary roles. Into dying off screen. Into not even being there when two people you care so much about die.

But like, how much of that was actually in the narrative's control? They had these limitations to write around, and it put these characters in situations where they couldn't be in narratively satisfying roles.

In some ways, it's the most brutal depiction of what life is like.

When I was 14, I lost touch with my best friend. I just didn't keep my phone on me often at the time. He died. I think, if he had lived, he would have gone on to do some absolutely amazing things. He didn't get to. He called me a couple days before it happened. I didn't see it.

Death isn't fair. But it's not the end.

I think, if the story had had more time, these characters could have had better roles. But life isn't always so kind. Death isn't always so kind. We lose people when we're not looking. We blink and people are gone.

Doc, Sarge, Church, and Tex are dead. Wash was in an institution again. Tucker just went through all that. Grif went back to earth.

That's... that's brutal. Why don't I hate it? On paper, I'd hate it.

I think it might be because it doesn't feel like a goodbye, or even the end. There are loose ends. A lot of them. There's so much pain there, so much healing and moving on to be done. Just because Grif went back to earth doesn't mean he and Simmons don't call all the time. Just because Donut wasn't here to maybe save Sarge doesn't mean he won't be there eventually.

Just because Doc only saved two people doesn't mean it didn't matter.

Life is brutal. Death is brutal. Shit happens. Shit that isn't fair. Whether it's people we love dying, or just studio drama fucking a show.

But... that doesn't mean it's the end.

Doesn't mean Simmons is going to be alone, doesn't mean Doc died for nothing, doesn't mean Sarge's sacrifice meant nothing, doesn't mean Wash or Tucker's lives are ruined, or that Caboose can't have a new best friend.

I like to imagine Donut taking up medical studies after this. Doc saved him. He's going to make damn sure that matters. Maybe Blood Gulch becomes something of a boot camp for some future loser rejects in need of a home that Simmons can guide.

Church, in all his forms, may be gone. But that doesn't mean they're going to be so quick to forget. Leave the past in the past. But still look back from time-to-time. It got you where you were.

Sometimes we pass memories down through stories. Sometimes, just in the choices we make throughout our lives.

But just... unfair things happened. To the show, and to the characters in it. To the people running it. My best friend died when he was 14. Monty Oum died in his prime. Life is tragic. But hey, it's not the end. It's just the start of something new.

Maybe it isn't perfect. Maybe it isn't ideal. Maybe it hurts. Maybe it'll never stop hurting. But it can still be beautiful. it still has meaning.

It may just be a silly show about Halo dudes, but it matters.

Tl;dr: Raven is stupidly sentimental right now

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your-unfriendlyghost · 3 months ago

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Don’t Think Twice, It’s Alright

Steviepop Tex AU pt. 2

I think I’m gonna put it up on Ao3 as a second chapter to the previous one, although idk how many there will be. It’s not like a very outlined or plot heavy fic- I think it’s gonna be more like a series of vignettes (sorta like the structure of the book Tex, come to think of it lol)

Anyhow, in this one Tex thinks about dropping outta school. Soda tries to find a way to stop him.

It is about two months after Mason left, and Pop is back to the rodeos. Tex isn’t surprised, not really. And maybe he’s not completely disappointed, either. There’s more space in the house now.

But it’s quieter, too.

“It’s no big deal. He’s left before,” Tex explains, brushing Casanova, one of the horses, with an old blade.

Sodapop Curtis frowns. “Right, but it’s just you. …Alone. You know you can always stay with us again, right?” Tex had stayed at Soda’s place for the weekend a few weeks ago, but that was only because he’d forgotten to pay the heat bill.

Tex shrugs. “Hey, I mean, I still got Johnny,” he says, brushing a dust cloud off the horse. “I don’t needa bug y’all, ‘specially now that the heat’s been paid. I can always sneak into Johnny’s.”

“Johnny…right,” Soda says, eyes darkening briefly.

“You know Johnny?”

“Naw. Just…used to know a guy named Johnny. Different Johnny. It’s nothing,” Soda says. He undoes the cinch on the saddle with a click, and fumbles with it for a minute before buckling it back on its hook. “But you’re just…home alone, then. Other than your buddy,” he repeats.

Tex blinks, wondering what it is that’s got Soda so worried. “I mean, yeah, more or less. Ain’t nothin’ to be done ‘bout it unless I wanna end up in the system. But y’know, I’m sweet sixteen in a week, and I reckon then I can drop out and work full time, and I’ll be okay, y’know?” he explains.

Soda purses his lips. He doesn’t tell him not to drop out like most grown ups have, which Tex figures is on account of the fact that Soda dropped out of school at sixteen too. He told Tex about that once, but everytime someone else mentions it, he tells some joke about being stupid and changes the subject fast. So it’s pretty obvious Soda’s not proud of it.

Instead of arguing, Soda says, sorta reluctantly, “...Don’t you wanna get your education?”

Tex shrugs. “I mean, sure, but I gotta eat, don’t I? Else I ain’t never gettin’ tall like Mason,” he grins.

“Well, yeah, but I know ya get really decent grades, buddy, don’t ya? I mean,” Soda shrugs, “you could do somethin’ with that.”

Tex blinks. “Like what?” He genuinely can’t think of anything he’d need a diploma for- not for stable work, not for horse shows, not for rodeos.

“Well, like…” Soda hesitates. “Well, gee, I dunno. But things that need a highschool degree are sure out there, kid- why d’ya think I worked so hard to get my GED?”

“To work at a horse stable?” Tex jokes.

“Naw,” Soda admits. “But I mean, to get far in jobs. I had to get mine so that I could be a manager at the gas station I worked at, back before the draft an’ all,” he says, flicking the dog tags around his neck.

“Gee, Soda, I ain’t too interested in workin’ at a gas station,” Tex jokes, purposefully missing the point.

“Okay,” Soda says, agreeable as ever. “Alls I’m sayin’ is that it could save ya time and money to have a highschool degree. I ain’t even talkin’ ‘bout college after. Just high school.”

Tex chews his lip and ties up the billet in a good Texas-T knot. He decides to lay the score on Soda- if anyone gets it, it’s him.

“I just…I’ve been savin’ for things, y’know? Savin’ my money for things. And I’ll make more of it if I ain’t gotta go to school.”

“What’re ya savin’ for, some tuff Mustang? A Corvette? A Roadmaster?” Soda says, with a twinkle in his eye.

“Naw…” Tex says, looking at the floor of the stable. He doesn’t totally wanna say what he’s saving for. It’s…kind of silly. But Soda’s never laughed at him, not really, so finally he opens his mouth. “I’m savin’ for a horse,” he admits.

Soda raises an eyebrow. “You gonna get a horse? …Why?”

Tex sighs. “Well, I’m a good rider. I know you ain’t never seen me, but I am. And if I could ride again, I could go back to riding in rodeos. And there’s money in that, if you’re real good.”

Soda whistles low. “I s’ppose there can be. How good are ya talkin’, kid?”

“Good enough to get my job here, and I did well in those junior rodeos growin’ up.”

“Aw, I did those too. Those are good fun. What events did ya do?”

“Roped, saddle bronc, and barrel racin’.” Tex says, jutting his chin out. Barrel racing is usually meant for girls, but Tex likes it.

“Tuff,” Soda nods. “I mainly did bronc. Always wanted to jockey, but I ain’t skeletal enough for it,” he chuckles. That makes sense- Soda ain’t a heavyweight by any means, but even his lean build isn’t anywhere near slim enough for jockeying.

“Why’d ya stop?”

“Bum knee, killed me,” Soda grunts, heaving the saddle off.

“Oh yeah,” Tex says, brushing a chunk of mud outta Casanova’s coat. Soda’s told him about the ligament he tore before, and how it’s why he can’t ride anymore. Which is too bad, really, because Mr. Kencaide said once that Soda in his prime was one of the greatest riders he ever saw. Tex woulda loved to see him.

“Bad enough to keep me outta rodeos, but,” Soda chuckles, hoisting the saddle up, “not enough to keep me outta ‘Nam. Life sure is funny, huh, kid?”

Tex chuckles too, even though he doesn’t see what’s so funny.

He drops the subject of rodeos, and brings up cars instead when Soda comes back from hanging up the saddle. He gets the vibe that talking about Soda’s knee depresses him.

Tex gets home as the sun starts to dip down below the trees. The door’s unlocked, and there’s two people in the kitchen.

“Gee, what’re y’all doin’ here?” Tex says, walking into the house. The motorcycle was outside, so he’s not completely surprised to see Johnny and Jamie Collins standing there. But it’s still weird seeing them completely unannounced.

Johnny’s looking through the fridge, which is mostly empty if Tex is being honest, and Jamie’s by the countertop, messing with the stove.

“There ya are, we were wonderin’ when you’d get here,” Jamie says, brisk and quick as usual. “You got any forks, anywhere?”

“Huh?”

“They’re by the dishwasher, dummy, I told ya that already,” Johnny says, rolling his eyes. “Hiya, Tex,” he adds, grinning.

“What’s goin’ on?” Tex chuckles.

“We gotcha dinner,” Jamie explains, stepping away from the stove. “Mona made too much, and Johnny thought we oughta share ‘em.”

The Collins kids all call their Pop ‘Cole’ and their Ma ‘Mona’. Tex doesn’t get how Cole Collins sees that as perfectly normal, when he once yelled at Tex for not making eye contact. It’s real hard to gauge sometimes what Cole does and doesn’t see as disrespect.

“I called ya first,” Johnny adds sheepishly, “but ya didn’t pick up, so I figured you was at work still. Didn’t think you’d mind if we stopped by anyhow.”

Tex nods. He doesn’t mind at all- if he did mind, he wouldn’t leave a key under the doormat, now would he?

“Thanks y’all,” Tex smiles. “What is…dinner, exactly?”

“Puttanesca,” Jamie says.

Tex glances at Johnny for clarification.

Johnny rolls his eyes. “It’s some fancy-type Italian stuff, I dunno. Mona’s real into Italian food right now- our cousin Keith, y’know, the one from the city? His fiance’s some chick who’s Ma’s Italian, and every family dinner she gives Mona another recipe.”

“I like it,” Jamie says, crossing her arms. “Excuse my brother’s closed mind, Texas,” she smirks.

“Aww shuddup, I like Marcia fine. I just don’t think I can handle any more pasta, be it spaghetti, linguine, ravioli, or that one that’s shaped like tiny bowties,” Johnny says, tossing his hands up.

“Farfalle,” Jamie corrects. “It’s called that because that’s how you say butterfly in Italian,” she informs Tex.

“Oh, yeah?” he says, nodding. Jamie gets a little bit stuck-up about stuff like culture and all sometimes. It used to be kind of endearing, but now that Jamie’s not his girlfriend anymore, some of the things that used to be cute are now sorta annoying. That’s not a bad thing, really, because it just means they’re friends again for real. There’s plenty of things Johnny does that annoy Tex too, so he figures that’s pretty normal with friends, even when that friend’s a girl.

“Whatever. Ignore the know-it-all,” Johnny scoffs.

“Already was,” Tex grins, looking at Jamie. She shoves him, face cracking into a good-natured smile of her own.

“Fine, if you two wanna stay stupid, don’t let me stop you,” she says, tossing her head dramatically.

“Well, thanks for bringin’ the food by,” Tex says, looking over Jamie’s shoulder at the pot of pasta. He opens the cupboard and grabs three plates. “Guess that since y’all brought the food, I oughta set the table, huh?” He smiles.

“Oh, don’t bother,” Johnny says, sighing. “We already ate, and Mona said Jamie’s gotta be home by sunset for some damn reason, so we gotta split.”

“I got swimming practice at the Y at seven in the mornin’,” Jamie explains, wrinkling her nose.

“Oh,” Tex says, trying to hide his disappointment. “Well, thanks anyhow.”

“Sure thing, buddy. I left ya some ice cream in the icebox, too,” Johnny grins, bumping his shoulder against Tex’s.

“Aw, really? Sweet!” Tex brightens. He nudges Johnny back, who stumbles into Jamie on purpose.

“Jerk,” Jamie grumbles, shoving him back. “Good to see ya, Tex,” she adds, smiling and sticking her hand out. “It’s sure been a while.”

What with how Tex is in high school now while Jamie’s still in junior high, it feels like ages have gone by since they hung out, even though it’s really just been a month.

So Tex bats her hand away and throws an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a side hug. “Yeah, well, that don’t mean ya can go an’ be a stranger, okay, Collins?” he grins.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever ya say,” Jamie says, but she’s grinning too.

“Aw, break it up,” Johnny gags. He knows they ain’t together anymore, but maybe it’s hard to forget about your best friend and your little sister goin out, even if they did only go out for a month. “See ya Monday, Tex?”

Tex shakes his head, letting Jamie go. “Doubt it. I think I’m gonna pick up another shift at the stable.”

Johnny’s smile dips just a fraction. “...Right. Yeah. Okay.”

“Definitely Tuesday though, yeah?” Tex says, clapping Johnny on the back.

“Sure thing, buddy,” Johnny says, clapping him back. “Jamie,” he adds, nodding at the door.

“G’night, Tex!” she waves, and with that, the Collinses are out the door.

“Night,” Tex calls back.

He scoops up a plate of pasta and eats it there in the kitchen. It’s pretty good- there’s olives and like…peas or something in the tomato sauce.

But man, the house really is quiet.

Tex flicks on the radio and turns it up loud.

Mason doesn’t get outta basketball until eight, and he’s usually not back at his dorm until nine, and Tex has learned the hard way that Mason’s roommate never shuts up. That wouldn’t be so bad on its own if it weren’t for how boring he is. Last time Tex called before nine o’clock, the roommate talked for a solid half hour about the weather.

But finally, as the evening talk shows fade away into the music programs, the clock strikes nine.

Tex dials Mace’s number.

“Hey, it’s Tex,” Tex says into the receiver.

“Hey, Texas! It’s Harris! How ya doin’?”

Tex stifles a groan. “Hey man, can ya put Mace on the line?”

“Aw, Mason ain’t here now.”

“But…it’s nine?”

“Yeah, but your brother ain’t some kinda shut-in, kid, he’s at Olsen’s party!”

Tex frowns. That doesn’t sound like Mason. But all he says to Harris is “So…if you ain’t, then you’re a shut-in, then?”

“…No. I didn’t say that. …You’re a kid, you don’t get it.”

“Really? ‘Cos, like, you’re home…” Tex says. He’s not trying to be mean. He’s just bored.

There’s a click, and the line goes dead. Harris must’ve hung up.

Tex sighs. What’s Mace doin’ at a party? It doesn’t sound like him at all.

He rises from the chair by the phone. He doesn’t really wanna think about it.

So he flicks on the radio again, letting the evening rock segment blast.

“But I wish there was somethin' you would do or say. To try and make me change my mind and stay…But we never did too much talking anyway. But don't think twice, it's all right…” Bob Dylan croons.

Tex turns the radio off again. He likes Dylan fine, but tonight things are just hitting a little close to home.

“You there, Sodapop?”

“Hm?” Soda says, glancing up across the dinner table.

“I was askin’ ya to pass the napkins,” Steve says with a gap-toothed grin.

“Right,” Soda says, sitting up. “Sorry.”

“You okay? You’ve been tapped out all evenin’,” Steve says, taking a mouthful of soup.

“I have been? Sorry,” Soda says again.

“No big deal…care to let me in on it, though?” Steve says, kicking him gently under the table. Soda kicks back harder, and Steve’s eyes narrow like a hawk’s. He leans back in his chair to get a better angle, and clobbers Soda’s shin.

“Ain’t nothin’, really,” Soda shrugs, sweeping his leg up to dig his heel into the soft flesh of Steve’s thigh. “Was just talkin’ to Texas at work today.”

“Oh yeah? How’s he doin?” Steve says, eyes softening. He met Tex for the first time a few weeks ago, and he’s built a bit of a soft spot for the kid, asking about him and all constantly.

Soda chews his lip. “Well, he was sayin’ somethin’ about havin’ to drop outta school soon.”

In his effort to free his leg, Steve spills a few drops of soup onto Evie’s nice tablecloth. “...So?” He takes another sip of soup, feigning properness. “Kids drop out all the time.” He stops fighting for a second to look at Soda. “You dropped out.”

“Yeah, but I was stupid and failin’ all my classes, and I had Ponyboy to look out for. Tex ain’t half bad at school, he just needs more money…”

Steve’s eyes narrow. “What’re ya sayin’ here?”

“Well, I just thought- and I know we gotta discuss it with Evie, too, and I will when she gets home- I just thought we maybe could…I dunno, lend him a hand?” Soda says, all in one breath.

Steve takes a bite of soup, not answering. Finally, he says “Does Tex really not have any type of family to help him out?”

“No, he don’t, Stevie. His Momma died, an’ his old man may as well have, ‘cos he runs away to rodeos majority of the year. I ain’t sayin’ we pay for his college fund or nothin’, Christ, I ain’t even sayin’ we do all that much at all. Alls I’m sayin’ is…maybe we could cover his school lunches, or somethin’.” Soda explains.

Steve sighs. “Hey, I’m down for lettin’ him hang ‘round here when he’s gotta, but this…I mean, I dunno that this is any of our business, man.”

“Hey, you did it for me and Ponyboy,” Soda says, chewing his lip. “An’ it wasn’t really your business…”

Steve stirs his soup. “Shoot, Soda…”

“I’m just sayin’ we oughta think about it.”

Steve smiles, just a hint. “...Fine.” Under his breath, he mutters “You an’ yer goddamn bleedin’ heart.”

“Hey hey, McCormick!” Soda yells, hopping up onto the gate of the arena. “I gotta talk to ya!”

Tex starts, looking up from the pile of hay he’s swept. “Soda! Mornin’! Didn’t see ya there!” He props the broom up against Casanova’s stall, and heads to the arena. Soda’s wedged his boots between the bars, and is leaned over the top a foot above Tex.

“Look, I wanted to give ya a uh…” he says, pausing to pluck the toothpick he’s chewing on out of his mouth, “...a deal: I’ll help ya buy a horse, so long as ya don’t drop outta high school.”

Tex feels his eyes widen. “Aw, what? I couldn’t ask ya to do that!”

“You ain’t askin’, I am,” Soda says.

Tex bites back the urge to say yes- He can’t let Soda give him money, he can just hear Mason telling him not to. He can hear Mason warning him, saying something about how dangerous it is to let anyone lend him money- it’s an act of power, and there’s gotta be some kind of catch…

“Still,” Tex forces out, “I…that’s too much, man,” he says, voice weak. “I couldn’t…accept that, let ya just…buy me a horse…Mason would kill me.”

Soda considers it, twisting the toothpick in the corner of his mouth. “...Okay…if ya say so,” he frowns. “Just…think about it, will ya?”

Tex smiles. “...I will.”

“Good,” Soda grins. “Hey, tack me up Ruby, will ya? I got a lesson to teach in ‘bout half an hour, an’ it’s one of those Socy kids who don’t like gettin’ her hands dirty.”

(Soda uses weird words like “Soc” still. Tex figures it comes from growing up in the city- Soda grew up in North Tulsa, back in the days when kids slicked their hair back with Vaseline or fancy cream and dressed like Elvis Presley. Soda’s hair is pretty normal now- long-ish and wheat-gold- but Steve Randle, Soda’s roommate, still wears his hair like he’s on the cover of some 50s rock album.)

“Sure thing,” Tex says, already getting a sinking feeling of disappointment at turning down Soda’s offer. “Hey, Soda, thanks anyway, man,” he says before turning to Ruby’s stall. “I really ‘preciate it.”

“Hey, I like ya, kid. I mean, you need anything, ever, lemme know, yeah?” Soda says. “It’d be a real damn shame to see ya drop outta school.”

Yeah, it would be. But it ain’t like I got a choice, Tex thinks, gritting his teeth.

But he’s happy, too, anyway. Maybe he can’t take Soda up on his offer, but it’s nice to know someone’s got his back. Especially someone as cool as Soda.

“Ooh. Soda’s makin’ dinner,” Evie whistles, leaning over his shoulder. Soda smiles.

“Evenin’, babe,” he says, pecking her cheek. “How was work?” Evie sighs. “It was a lot.”

Steve snorts from his perch on the countertop, and Evie whips him in the knee with a dishtowel.

“Steve’s already got the briefin’, eh?” Soda grins, looking up from the burgers he’s frying.

“Yes, but you ain’t,” Evie pouts.

Steve reaches for her, and she stands between his legs, letting him play with her hair. “Sorry, baby,” he chuckles, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Go on, rant.”

“Thanks for your permission,” she says flatly.

“Ignore the lug, I wanna hear,” Soda says, flipping a patty.

“Thank you,” she says, grinning. “You know that old guy, the one who was convicted of runnin’ stock scams in the Depression?”

“Sure,” Soda nods. She’s complained about this old guy before. He doesn’t think she’s ever said his name or anything- just calls him “The old guy”. Which ain’t too specific, seeing how Evie practically works at a nursing home.

“Well today he tried getting the high school volunteers to sell him grass!” she says, tossing her hands up in the air. Steve chuckles.

“I’m serious, Steven!” she says, poking his chest. “The little fifteen year old honor students! Poor Naomi O’Byrne- she had no clue what to do ‘bout it!” But Evie’s smiling toothily too, trying not to laugh at her own words. “I mean, if he’d come to me for grass it woulda been okay-”

“Because yer all stocked up on it?” Soda teases.

“No, ‘cos I know to tell him that his respiratory system ain’t in any shape for smokin’- but poor Naomi went out to the courtyard and came back with a handful of lawn…” Evie giggles.

Steve laughs. “She live under a rock or somethin’?” “Well, if she lived under a rock, she’d know ‘bout grass,’ Evie says, laughing into Steve’s shoulder.

Soda laughs too, and brings the platter of food to the table.

“There ain’t no food colorin’ today, is there?” Steve says, eyeing it with his brow raised.

“Course not,” Soda says. For once, he does mean it. It wouldn’t bode well to convince his partners to do what he wants while also dying their tongues green.

“Really?” Steve says suspiciously. He glances at Evie, who shrugs. She doesn’t have the same suspicion for Soda’s concoctions as Steve does- she wasn’t there for the Easter dinner incident of 1964. Thirteen years later, and Steve still double checks that there’s no raw eggs or excessive food dye in anything.

“There ain’t, I promise,” Soda chuckles, sitting down across from them.

At the table, Steve and Evie dig in. Once they’ve slowed, ensuring they’ll be in the best moods possible, Soda makes his move.

“So. Evie, you remember a few weeks ago, when Tex stayed over here?” he says slowly, twisting the ring on his left hand.

“Sure. Good kid. What about him?” Evie says, reapplying her lip gloss using her reflection on her spoon.

“Oh…” Steve mutters.

Soda glares at him, waving his hand. Steve shifts in his seat and shuts up.

“Thank you. Now uh…look, so the kid is fixin’ to drop out of school so he can buy a horse and make money offa rodeos. I…shoulda probably told ya first, but today I offered to uh…help him financially so that he don’t have to pick up even more shifts and drop out.”

“You- Sodapop-”

“Hey, hey, he said no! He said no,” Soda says sheepishly. Evie raises an eyebrow.

“So…what’re you sayin’?” she says.

“I’m askin’...what d’ya think we can…y’know, do for him? Because you know him, we all like him, and I just don’t think he should have to drop out when he’s got decent grades. And more importantly, I don’t think a sixteen year old kid should be stuck without any support livin’ home alone.”

“Dallas did,” Steve says without thinking.

“Yeah,” Soda says, “exactly.”

Steve’s face falls fast. He squeezes the St. Christopher pendant ‘round his neck, till his knuckles are white and a vein pops outta his hand, and Soda knows they’re both picturing it, that night all those years ago when Dally ran, crashed, fell, bled…

Evie reaches for Steve’s other hand on the table, rubbing the back of it with her thumb. “Well,” she says, trying to steer the conversation away from their dead friends, “we’ve already offered to let him crash here when he wants, which I am completely down for. But if he’s told you no, what else do you think we can do?”

Soda shrugs, looking away sullenly. “I dunno. I just…I don’t get it. I know he ain’t Ponyboy, and I don’t think he’s got it in him to go off to university or nothin’, but I know I wish I’d gotten my diploma- sure it seemed like no big deal when I was sixteen, but man, it sucked gettin’ a hold of that GED.”

Evie and Steve glance at each other. They were both in college in Arizona while Soda was getting his GED, so they don’t exactly understand how awful it was.

“Seriously, while y’all were mixin’ cocktails an’ given’ kids piercings, I was in night school with Curly goddamn Shepard,” Soda says, jutting out his chin. “Four hours, five o’clock to nine, every day. Only to get drafted right after.”

“Hey, bartendin’ was harder than the DX,” Steve says, almost joking.

“Yeah, yeah, tell yerself that,” Soda scoffs, grinning. “But y’know, I just don’t want Tex to deal with that. It was so lousy, an’ I only passed ‘cos Ponyboy did all my homework.” He shrugs, and tilts back in his chair. “I just…I wish I hadn’t dropped out, y’know? I wish someone coulda helped us back then.”

“Hey, I wanted to,” Steve says, sitting up. “I told Darry, ya know that, I wanted to. But he wouldn’t let me. Didn’t wanna owe no one nothin’, not even his kid brother’s best friend. Wouldn’t even take my loanin’ Pony-kid some of his college fund until I convinced him it was my rent for stayin’ at yer place.”

Rent…

“You’re right…” Soda murmurs, turning it over in his brain. “Hell’s bells, yer right. I’ve been thinkin’ bout this all wrong.”

“Hm?” Steve frowns.

“Oh!” Evie exclaims, eyes widening. “You mean…”

Soda snaps his fingers. “Texas ain’t thinkin’ like me…he’s thinkin’ like Darry.”

“Tex! Texas! McCormick, man!” Soda says, hopping outta his truck. He bounds down the gravel drive, racing towards Tex. Tex jumps, nearly dropping a halter.

“Soda!” he grins, catching it in a way that hopefully looks tuff.

Soda skids to a stop, bending over to heave a breath. He coughs. “Doggone it, I shouldn’ta run like that,” he gasps, completely winded.

“I thought you was in the army,” Tex teases.

“Hey, that was ‘bout nine or ten years ago,” Soda groans, still bent over. He leans against the barn wall and heaves himself up. “An’ ‘sides…cardio ain’t never been my strong suit…an’ all those years of hangin’ ‘round everyone’s cancer sticks ain’t so good for the ol’ windbags…” he wheezes. Tex laughs.

“Seems to me yer gettin’ old, Sodapop,” he grins. Soda grins back, ‘cos he’s real great at takin’ jokes for an adult.

Once he’s finally steadied himself, he puts his hand on his hips. “Okay, okay, you remember how yesterday I said I’d buy ya a horse?”

Tex’s heart sinks, wishing he could say yes but knowing he can’t. “Oh…”

“No, I ain’t offerin’ again, don’tcha look at me like that- Christ, ya look how my high school girlfriend looked turnin’ down my engagement ring,” Soda says fast. Tex schools his face back to being neutral as he can get it. “Listen, how’s this- you got stable space, don’tcha?”

Tex swallows. The thought of the empty stable in the backyard still makes him feel all empty inside, even a whole year later.

“Sure, it’s been empty since ole’ Mace sold Negrito an’ Red,” Tex grunts, leaning against the wall next to Soda.

Soda snaps his fingers, hand shooting out to grab Tex’s shoulder. “That’s it!” he exclaims.

“Huh?”

“I tell ya what- I pay ninety-five bucks a month keepin’ Whinny here at Kencaide’s. I’ll pay ya the same to keep her at your place, how’s that?” Soda says. “That way you ain’t gotta pick up more shifts, an’ I ain’t givin’ you the money- I’m payin’ ya for your property. How’s that for a deal?” Soda grins.

“You’d do that?” Tex says, trying his damndest to temper his enthusiasm.

“Yes, completely! An’ you can practice ridin’ on her ‘till ya got enough for yer own horse. I know she ain’t the fastest or nothin’, but hey, she’s real nice, right?”

“I can?” Tex says, bouncing on his feet. “You’d- you’d let me?”

“Hey, so long as she’s taken care of by someone, I’ll pay anyone for stable space. And you already know her, so she’ll be happier with you than anyone else, much as I wish I could keep her in my backyard…but Evie don’t want her tramplin’ the flower beds, and I don’t think the neighbors’d go for that,” Soda rambles. He pauses, and glances at Tex. “So…yer down? Ya ain’t gonna…drop out?”

Tex shrugs. “Well, ninety-five a month plus the salary from the shifts I got now, plus Mason’s checks in the mail…I’d be set, man!” he grins. “It’s a deal!” he says, sticking out his hand.

“Sweet!” Soda says, pumping his fist. He shakes Tex’s hand enthusiastically. “I’ll drive her over this weekend, an’ I can start bringin’ her stuff by after work!”

Tex smiles, a fluttering feeling in his chest. “Soda, man, I- I dunno what to say, man,” he says, running a hand through his hair.

Soda squeezes his shoulder. “Hey, ain’t nothin’, lil’ buddy.”

Tex doesn’t know what to say to that, either, because it isn’t nothing. It’s huge. But he still can’t find the words. So he opens his mouth, closes it, and then dives into Soda and throws his arms around him tight.

Soda says “Oh! Hi!” and then hugs him back gently. “Hey, hey, I’m happy to help ya out, any way I can, kid,” he says softly.

“You do too much for me, man,” Tex chuckles into Soda’s shoulder.

“Nah. Ain’t doin’ much at all,” Soda says. “Yer a good kid. I got yer back, buddy.”

Tex smiles wide, and pushes off of Soda, racing to the other end of the barn, whooping and laughing loud all the way. Soda laughs too, running just behind, hopping over a hay bale and landing next to Tex.

Tex grins and falls down into a pile of hay, looking at the roof of the barn. Boy, Johnny will be real glad he ain’t droppin’ out anymore.

And then he thinks Mason will be real mad. Which almost kills his mood.

But then he hears Whinny neighing and thinks about getting to ride again for the first time in a year, getting to tack a horse for himself, and about Soda and all the warmth Soda and his friends have for him, and he puts Mason out of his head.

“Come on over tonight after work why don’tcha?” Tex says finally, looking up at Soda. “I got some leftovers from the other night, an’ we can start movin’ yer gear in, yeah? Maybe I’ll call Johnny too, make a night of it.”

Soda helps him up and claps him on the back, grinning. “Sounds like a plan.”

#he outsiders #the outsiders 1983 #tex book #tex se hinton #tex mccormick #steve x evie #evie the outsiders #steviepop #steve randle #sodapop curtis #tex 1982 #my writing #steviepop tex au

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johnwickb1tsch · 1 year ago

Text

Yandere Tex x Reader x John Wick WIP Part 5!

Ready evil geniuses? @treedaddymcpuffpuff @sweetwolfcupcake

John lets you rest after wrecking you for the umpteenth time, disappearing off somewhere. You put off leaving the bedroom for as long as you can, but in the end you can't stand it anymore. You rummage in the closet for a new shirt. Your choices are black, black, and you'll never guess... black.

This house must belong to John.

How many safe houses does that man have?

When you walk out of the bedroom in your new getup you find Tex in the living room watching TV. He raises an eyebrow at you.

“We have got to get you some clothes, baby girl.”

You shrug. The boxer t-shirt combo is actually pretty comfy.

You think you might make your way to the kitchen, but Tex snaps his fingers at you as you try to walk past.

You turn to look at him with a raised brow.

“Can I help you?”

That was the wrong thing to say, obviously.

His grin is that of a hungry wolf.

“I bet you can. C'mere, darlin'.”

You sigh, but after your little lesson with John, you're not quite so inclined to defy him.

Yet.

You're going to have to get smarter about how you expend your energy.

Easier said than done.

You pad over next to him. He pats his thigh in invitation, but you opt to sit next to him instead. This lasts for about two seconds, before he hauls you into his lap with his big hands and his strong arms.

Goddammit.

“That's better,” he says with a sly grin, holding you close.

You take a moment to look at him—really look at him, from up close. The sweep of his almond shaped eyes, his high cheek bones and the short scruff of his beard. He stares back at you, unabashedly.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He narrows his eyes at you, bumping his forehead with yours. You wish it wasn't adorable. Fucking man child, making you feel things.

“Wanna watch tv?”

It beat anything else he could dream up, so you agree. You hadn't forgot that he still owed you for your flipping of the bird earlier. You're sure he hasn't either.

He turns on some stupid gratuitous action flick, and you kind of zone out. Your thoughts drift to John, and the things he told you in-between fucking you silly.

He'd said that he and Tex would not take on the FBI just for a plaything, or a whore. Deep down, you knew what that meant.

It meant, they had no real intention of letting you go. The thought filled you with equal parts dread—and wonder.

Why the fuck would not one, but two fine ass men like this want you, for keeps? It's beyond your comprehension—and if you're honest, kind of flattering. Bat shit fucking crazy, but flattering.

Either that, or it's just...convenient. Your circumstances created a perfect storm from which to snatch you without a trace or a person to care about getting you back.

"Want to see somethin'?" asks Tex, interrupting your reverie.

"Okay?"

He clicks play on the remote once he has your attention. You watch as a 1970s muscle car jumps an impossible ramp, then lands roughly on the other side of a canal. "That was me."

You lift an eyebrow, looking back at him. "In the car?"

"Yeah."

He's grinning like a little kid, clearly proud.

"You were a stunt man?"

"Uh huh."

You tilt your head, trying to put pieces together and failing. The square block is not fitting in the circle hole.

"Then why...?"

"Killin' people pays better, believe me. Less dangerous, too."

A chill runs down your spine.

"Oh."

Your gaze drifts away, but he turns it back to him with a hand on your chin. Those jet black eyes bore into yours, like he can see into your soul. His eyes flick down to your mouth, a moment before he leans in to kiss you. Your first instinct is to offer teeth, before you remember if you have to have sex one more time in the next twenty-four hours, you might literally die. You slip your tongue into the seam of his lips, and feel him smile against your mouth.

"Mmm. A man could get used to this."

He slides his hand up your thigh, fingertips sneaking past the loose hem of your boxer shorts.

You wrap your fingers around his, praying. "Tex, please."

"Like the sound of that," he says between kisses, outmuscling you to move his hand higher.

"I'm so sore."

"Sounds like an excuse to me. John gets you to himself but I don't?"

"It's not my fault you're both hung like horses."

This appeal to his ego makes him grin. "Ain't you a lucky girl?"

"Only if you don't hurt me."

He has the gall to give you a pouty face. Again, it should be fucking ridiculous, but somehow it's cute. He cups the side of your face, pushing his thumb between your lips. "How sore is your mouth?" he asks, eyes glittering.

It's not high on your list of things you want to do, but you're having to weigh your options these days. You suck his thumb, and you swear you watch a fire ignite in his eyes.

"Also sore," you say around his digit, sounding ridiculous as he presses down on your tongue. Your jaws hurt. Even your mouth is bruised from kissing. Jesus. You're not a goddamn python.

You try to retreat, but he forces his thumb deeper.

Absolutely out of instinct to defend yourself, you start to bite him.

Maybe you stop yourself before it can hurt or you break skin, but for the wicked gleam in his eyes you know it doesn’t matter. Suddenly you find yourself flipped on your stomach over his lap, as though you are nothing but a doll.

“You are a nippy little thing, you know that?” When he wrenches down your boxers, propping your ass in the air with his trunk of a thigh beneath you, you’re afraid you know exactly what he has in mind.

“No—”

His hand between your shoulder blades pins you down. “You’re just going to make it worse for yourself,” he says in a sing-song tone, almost as though he hopes you will fight him more. His fingers fanned out over your butt cheek rub lightly, soothing over your copious bruises. It feels so good that the first stinging smack makes you jump sky-high.

“Hey!”

“Hush and take your licks, little girl.”

“I hate you!”

“I was gonna say five, for flippin’ me off, but now it’s six. Comprende?”

You whimper, but for the first time since this whole fiasco started, you do the smart thing and shut your dumb fucking mouth, hanging your head in the pillows with resignation.

He’s just spanking you, you reason. How bad can it be?

He has a hand like a catcher’s mitt and arms corded with muscle.

Bad. The answer, is bad.

Yet he doesn’t lay into you immediately, soothing you with featherlight touches over your buttocks and the backs of your thighs. That part feels good, actually, and fuck you if you don’t start to feel the stirrings of desire between your legs.

What. The ever loving. FUCK. Is wrong with you?

“So pretty,” he says, toying with the bend of your knee. It makes your toes curl, and he offers up a deep chuckle that you almost feel more than hear. “You like that?”

“Yes,” you answer meekly, closing your eyes.

“See, I can be sweet, if you’re sweet to me.”

The next smack on the other cheek makes you jump again, but this time you do not protest.

“Ahh. She can be taught.”

You whimper, but keep your expletives to yourself. This is not exactly what you would call sweet…but the contrast of the stinging blows with his featherlight touch afterwards is doing things to you that you do not understand.

“Take this off,” he demands, lifting the hem of your shirt up your back.

For once, you obey him the first time, squirming in your awkward position on your belly and pulling it over your shoulders, leaving you bare and totally exposed upon his lap. He runs his fingers up the curve of your spine, making you shudder upon him. You can’t see his smug grin, but you know, you just fucking know it’s there.

Smack.

You can’t help but cry out, but the pleasure and the pain is strangely starting to meld together. Your treacherous, stupid little cunt has begun to throb, and as his fingers caress dangerously close to your crease you find that you wish he would touch you there.

By the time he’s finished with your licks you are a finely trembling, aching mess on his lap, your fingers like claws in the throw pillow, your ass in the air as though begging for it of its own volition.

Finally he does dip his thick fingers into your weeping slit, groaning to himself for the wetness he finds there. He circles your bud with the thick tip of his finger, making you moan and arch into him like the stupid little hypocrite you are.

“That’s a mighty nice little pussy you’ve got there,” he says, his voice turned pure gravel with desire. “Too bad you’re too sore.”

He withdraws and shoves you off his lap as he stands, leaving you in a heap of pliable naked limbs on the couch. The frustrated sound that escapes your throat is barely human, and the grin he pays you is the baring of teeth from a predator to a rabbit across the wood.

“Now don’t let me catch you touchin’ yourself,” he warns, looming over you. “You won’t like what happens next.”

On that note he struts off, and you watch him go with a glare, unable to stop yourself from thinking he has the nicest, tightest little butt this side of the Mississippi river.

Bastard.

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