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teezersfics · 4 months

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Money, Revenge & Sex ~ Choi San

“Oh, and my name is San, in case you need to moan.”

♡ EROTICA ATEEZ ♡

Warnings : Pirate-Cowboy!Dom!San, Cowgirl!sub!reader, unprotected sex, little mention of abuse. Plot at the beginning and the end, mostly plot based. Plot-twist(?), no proof read.

Word count : 3.1 k

I hope you like the...........plot?!?!??!? 😬

Sitting at one of the stools at the tavern, you are scanning the crowd, trying to find the most anticipated faces. The Pirate King and His Crew, one of the most deadly pirates to exist in the present world. Who were rumoured to be on the shore of Puerto Escondido, (Mexico), around this week, for a secret mission, and, you suspect, what can it be.

Lord Antonio, the most popular and wealthy dealer of South Mexico, asked ATEEZ, a Pirate group consisting of the most deadliest crew in this world, for help, to gain power over the southern ports of Mexico. He asked for this favour some years ago. By providing some of the best types of products from all over the world to Mexico, by eliminating all the cunning Mayor's of the towns alongside the southern coast, to bring him the control of those towns. Initially, Antonio's intention of gaining the power was to provide good amenities to the people of the coast, avoid them from facing assaults and loots from other pirates, etc.

But, as time passed, Antonio grew greedy for more and more money. He started keeping all the money eventually, growing his domination over the ports and trades happening in South Mexico. When the news reached the Government, they sent the Navy to gain back control, and execute Antonio. But, with all the power he had, he fooled the Navy, and killed many Navy officers. He crushed all of the attempts of the Navy and the government.

There was a deal, happened between ATEEZ and Antonio, that whenever ATEEZ pays a visit to Mexico, Antonio will pay them 1/4th of the profit he gained every month. But, he broke the deal, only paying for the first two months, later on he pretended to be busy, to have gone somewhere, tried to hide and what not. When ATEEZ heard all the news about how much Antonio has turned the tables with his promises and declarations, and how much serious crimes he committed, that he had a big bounty on his head and also an execution order.

It's been two years since Antonio has been deceiving many, including ATEEZ. Because of non-frequent visits at Mexico, it was not possible to carry out the execution mission of Antonio sooner, but now was the time. And that is why they are here, in the Tavern, disguised as some of the local Mexican men, so that to fool Antonio's men from recognising them. Well, this plan was secret, but one of the men of Antonio, sailing in sea for fishing, saw Destiny(ATEEZ's ship) from far, letting their men know that ATEEZ were here.

The vibe of the tavern party, is something that you adore with your heart. The whole tavern is filled with melodic voices of Vihuela, Accordion, Trumpet, and other instruments. People having glasses of tequila and beer in their hands above their heads, bodies grooving to the music, the dim lighting in the Tavern coming from few of the candles and oil lamps here and there. But, your eyes are trained on one particular person.

A man, buff, wearing only a piece of black jacket, with fringes attached to it, flowing independently on his torso, studs decorating the linings of the jacket. The jacket, doing bare minimum to hide his upper body. You wonder why did he even wore the jacket for? Wearing tight leather pants underneath, a Black cowboy hat on his head, completing his look. A black scarf around his neck and mouth, making it hard for everyone to see his face. But, the way his eyes are just so inviting, so captivating. It's like a Maelstrom is sucking a ship inside of it, and the crew can do nothing but see helplessly, getting sucked in. Especially, his TITS. More distracting than his eyes. The way his fringe jacket is doing nothing to cover his chest. As if he is just showing, he ‘tried’ to cover up, but well…….

The fact that you can actually tell he is Pirate. As a dealer yourself, you've had quite the experience dealing with pirates. And, pirates can be easily recognised by the sword wounds, types of tattoos, their build, rough-torn hands scratched by the splinters of the heavy ropes that they heave, and more other things.

Basically, you figured it out that pirates are already here, blending in with the crowd, wearing Mexican costumes and accessories to blend in with the crowd, mostly covering their faces. The way they are swaying to the music, as if they are pre celebrating their revenge victory over Antonio.

As, they are grooving to the music, you can't help but continuously scan him, the way his body moves to the music, the way his muscles flexes when he raise his hands up in joy. You can't help but feel the need to touch that body of his. Also, the tequila you had, slowly has started to kick in your nerves, making your grow more bolder and risk everything just to have a chance with him. Chugging down the last sip of your tequila, you join the dance.

Without wasting time, you get straight to the point, dancing a little too close to him, almost all over him. But in a way your back facing him. It doesn't takes long for him to study your moves and spins you around by your arm almost making you collide with his chest, his hands goes straight to your lower back, holding you while without wasting time your hands are on his chest, finally feeling the contours of his buff chest. So round and heavy in your hands that you forget dancing for a moment. But his hands on your back, helps you get back to the beat, moving you along the music. Without anything else in your mind, you start dancing, moving your body along with him. It was as if you were not following the rhythm, but you were following him, following the way his body moved.

Your hands were all over his torso, but not for much. Your hands were itching to go lower and sooner you were tugging on his pants and belt. Caressing his upper thighs. He got the hint and finally he spoke, mouth over your ear, even though he was wearing mask, you could still feel the warmth.

“Tu nombre, bonita?” (your name, pretty?) He asked.

It was quiet funny because he was purposefully speaking in Spanish to keep his disguise on. But, you just laugh at it.

“You are good at Spanish.”

His brows are furrowed, not quiet getting what you meant.

“Ofcourse, because I live here!”

You roll your eyes, you get that they have a mission, but it's still funny for you. Also, letting him know that you know him is dangerous move, because he is Pirate after all, he can kill you right away if you slip.

Eventually, his hands starts getting lower, now on your hips. Your bodies a literally pressed together. Oh, how bad you wanna take that scarf off his face. He literally smelled like tequila, some intoxicating herb, and sweat. He was taking over your mind.

‘If I don't get fucked by thus man right now, I might go more Feral.’ Thus was your thought process at the moment and you unknowingly grind forward on him. It was as if your body decided to do it on it's own. Not sure if he'd like it or not, String of ‘Sorry's’ come out of your mouth. But, his grip remains firm on you.

Rather, he buries his head in crook of your neck. He whispered,

“Seems like, you will make me do, what I am not supposed to right now.”

Goosebumps all over your body, you exactly knows what he means. But, you want him to do, exactly what he is not supposed to. So, you swirl your hands more on hiUs body, especially his tits, and you feel how his nippels perks up in some seconds. It's the limit for him.

Holding your wrist he drags out out of party. One of his men see him, stopping him to whisper something in his ear.

“What are you doing? It's not the time.” He says.

“Don't worry, I'll be right back.” He assures the other man with a wink.

He takes you to one of the storage rooms, at the back of the Tavern.

As soon as he closes the door, he wastes no time in pinning you to the door, taking his scarf off and kissing you. Open mouth from the start, he was so desperate to have his mouth on you. So rough that, you were constantly falling out of breathe. His both hands cupping your cheeks, shoving his head in yours. Tongues inside each others mouths. But you pull him away because you didn't get the chance to see him properly.

You were already drowned in his eyes, but now that you see his full face you are mesmerised. You are seeing such a handsome pirate for the first time. The moles on his face, sharp features, the scar on his lips is like the cherry on top. (Imagine Toji's scar)

You don't wait to kiss the scar on his lips, slowly, licking it, he is surprised but soon takes control, biting on your lower lip again and again, now hands on your hips, massaging them, which brings out a moan from you.

“Fuck, your moans are so pretty. Can't wait to hear you moan my name.”

“Then tell me what's your name.” You cock an eyebrow at him. But, it can't beat the perfect smirk on his face.

He drags you to one of the tables in the room, bending you immediately. His hands work on your long skirt, pulling it down along with your panties. You are shocked by his speed. You wanted to get fucked so badly, but he was more into this business than you. While at the same time you removed your shirt. But, as his hand comes to your clit, a long sigh leaves your mouth. Making your legs shiver. It's been a long, very long time. He rubs on your clit, later getting to your folds. He is surprised.

“Oh look, how wet you are already.” You can hear the squelching sound from his rubbing on your folds. But, your legs are not wide enough for him. So he spreads your legs with his own, making your entrance easier for access.

“Hmm, that's more like it.”

He enters one of his finger in your hole, getting a yelp from you. His finger just continues to enter you more and more. You saw his fingers were long, but they feel longer inside you. When he starts thrusting his single finger inside you, it's already numbing your head. You lay your head on the table, cheek flat on the surface.

“Oh fuck-” is all you can say.

“It's just the start, bonita.” He says sliding in another finger. You moan, the feeling is too amazing that you bang your fist on the table. You back was arching, giving him the best angle. He comes down to reach your ear.

“You are a mess, just on my finger. What will happen when you take my dick?” He chuckles right over your ear, sending goosebumps right to your pussy. But, it was a mind blowing feeling when he started scissoring inside of you, as if your pussy would explode anytime with pleasure.

You can hear the sound of the shuffling, he unbuckles his pants, removing them halfway down. Palming his cock through his boxers, he throws his head back, with the thought that next minute his cock will be inside you. He is getting you ready to take him, thrusting his fingers harder on you. It almost feels as if you'd come on his fingers already. But his motion stops. Finally removing his boxers, he strokes his hard dick, spreading his pre cum all over his length.

He spreads his both fingers that are still inside you, making your hole wider, which makes you scream in both pain and pleasure. He rubs his cock on your folds, using your wetness as lube. It's already too much for you. He comes down to you again, to whisper in your ear.

“Oh, and my name is San, in case you need to moan.”

He goes back again, now slowly pushing his cock in. You can hear him sigh loudly.

“Gosh, one of the tightest pussy I've had in a while.” This had you already clenching around him.

After a moment he starts moving. “Fuck San. You- you are too big.”

His thrusts are shallow at first, but sooner he starts gaining momentum. He starts ramming into you and all you could do is grip the table for your dear life. If this keeps going on, the table is gonna leave scratch marks on your stomach. You can hear him groan from behind.

“Ah, San….San fu- fuck.”

“You enjoy getting fucked like this, don't you.” He scoffs. He knew the power he held on you. The loud noises of skins slapping on each other, the squelching sound of your pussy, his groans everything was so overwhelming. You turn your head a slightest bit to get a view of him, and oh! The way his chest is fully covered in sweat, his hairs sticking to his temple because of sweat, droopy eyes. Oh! How much you wished that you kissed him right now and roamed your hands in his hairs. This position was amazing but you wished it was more convenient, also, your legs can give out at any second. He seemed to have noticed that.

“Is this position causing you trouble baby?” He whispers in your ear.

“You wanna see me better? Wanna see how I fuck you?”

All you could do is nod.

“Very well! Then let's switch. You will stand up for me, right baby?”

Nodding, he removes himself from you and you sigh at the feeling of emptiness. But standing up you face him and the next thing you know he lifts you up by your hips and sets you on the table.

Spreading your legs wide by his large hands, he lines up his cock on your clit. Pecking you quickly on the lips he said.

“Let's get this done. Okay?”

He enters you again and your head falls in the crook of his neck. It's just you are not used to his size. The most beautiful man you have ever fucked. How much you wished he stayed around for much more or you could get to see him more. The sudden urge to mark him yours raised and so you started leaving hickeys on his neck and chest as he pounded in you.

But, when he unexpectedly traced the long scar on your torso, it made you visibly flinch. Something that you considered as your biggest flaw.

“A scar, this long, as if you were scraped by a sword.”

“Hmph, yeah. It was a sword.”

“Who would do this to such a beautiful lady like you.”

You take a deep breath.

“M- My father.”

“Why?”

“Be- because I am doing my w- work by going against him. So he tried to kill me because, he- he thinks I am his competition.”

“How insecure he can be. But, it's okay baby, no one can hurt you when I am here.”

The way he speaks, it makes you cling more to him, to rely on him. He is a complete stranger with no business in your pain, but he still assures to protect you. Now is the time. You can tell him what you want to, right at this moment. This can be, he can be your chance of fleeing away from here. And so you finally say it.

“S- San, I know where the key is- the key to Antonio's grand safe.”

He couldn't believe his ears that he stopped his movements.

“What are you saying?” He is purely confused.

“I know you are from ATEEZ, and I know you are here to revenge Antonio.”

He shaked his head, still believing this was fake.

“This fuck so good, I am hallucinating.” He said, trying to make sense of the situation.

“No San, I will help you get to the safe and locate Antonio.”

“Why?”

“Because I want justice too and wanna flee away from here.”

He scrunched his eyebrows, not knowing which question would get him all of the answers he needed to know. So he asked.

“How do you know about all this? Who are you?”

“Because, I am Antonio's daughter.”

The room is dead silent. His grip tightening on your waist. You just wish this doesn't go downhill. But, when he starts to move again, you yelp sudden thrust. His head in the crook of your neck, and you can feel him smile.

“I decided to fuck right women, I guess?” He scoffed. The way all of the weight from your shoulder vanished.

“If I didn't approached you, this moment would have never happened.” You reply to him, and he laughs.

He slowly increases his speed, coming to the climax. His thrusts are fast and deep, trying to reach as far as possible into you. This had you moaning loudly, into his ear, moaning his name, which is driving him more crazy.

“Shit- San, I am close.”

“Do it, cum for me.”

After few more thrusts, you both hit your climax, cumming into you, he hit a few more thrusts to ride out both of your highs. Removing himself from you, he gets dressing shortly while you lay back on the table, exhausted from the sex.

After he is dressed, he helps you get dressed, shocking you, because you didn't expect him to help you. You thought he would rather ask for the key and Antonio, and get back to his team. He notices you expression.

“What? Don't you wanna get ready, we have a mission.”

‘We’, oh! How you hope this ‘We’ remains forever.

Later, that night, they were able to get the key with your help, and get back all of their money. The remaining money, that neither ATEEZ owned nor Antonio, they rained that money upon the town at the dawn which rightfully belonged to towns’ people, later capturing Antonio, tying him up, and throwing him in middle of town's Square, letting people decide his fate, which they did by beating him up, submitting him to the government, leading to his public execution. No matter how bad he treated you, he was still your father, you still felt bad. But now you had nothing you can call yours in the town, and San knew it. He offered you to join Destiny, Ateez's crew, and you accepted.

You are standing in front of the ship and the man you are going to spend the rest of your life with, him, offering you a hand to step on the ship, him and his crew, Welcoming you aboard, to start a new life.

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cosmic-ghost-hermit · 3 months

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How are You Seen and How is Your Style Perceived?

Hey fellas!! This reading is a suggestion from @evaalison72020!!! Thank you so much for your request! The decks used today are The Tarot of the Divine, The Moonology Oracle, and Believe In Your Own Magic Oracle. Take what resonates and leave the rest but always be ready for new perspectives.

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Drop your reading suggestions in my inbox for future PAC. Thank you all in advance! Love you🤍

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PILE ONE

Astrology: Leo, Pisces, Virgo (maybe cancer)

Song: Her Diamonds by Rob Thomas

Vibes: Green, red, yellow, ohi'a tree blossoms, intense emotion, crabs, birch tree, Pele, bow staff, modeling, boho fashion, photography, 999, 4444, swords, lotus root, dragons, monkeys, selenite, howlite

Cards: Queen of Wands, King of Cups, Judgement, Supermoon, Garden

Hello, pile one! I am really digging y'all's energy. You have a very androgynous energy so people have a lot of variety in how they perceive you. I think first I will start with your style and ease into those who know you a bit deeper. So, your style is very earth-toned. How you dress tells people that you are reasonable and balanced. You hate wearing shoes so you don't wear them if you don't have to. You might have a touch of fantasy in your accessories. I see crystal bracelets or pendulum necklaces. You like to wear loose-fitting clothes that make you feel free. I'm specifically seeing a long red skirt. It's about knee length. If a skirt doesn't resonate it could also be a red jacket or sweater that you tie around your waist. People initially see a really free spirit with a whimsical side. People might be surprised by your free spirit but not usually put off by it. You have a very cheerful vibe to you that makes people feel at home. They view you as light on your feet and a positive influence on everything around you. However, occasionally you get excited by something and your eyes narrow in. You have a very intense stare. It can be pretty intimidating.

As for the androgyne tones I was feeling earlier I will now explain a little further. So, you sorta reflect gender at people. This is not to say you are gender fluid or nonbinary but that is a possibility. The vibe I am getting is whatever gender the person perceiving you is, is the gender they see you as. Which can drastically change how people see you, in my experience. Women see you as safe to be around. Men see you as capable and responsible. Nonbinary people see you as a comrade. This also brings in a lot of suiters that get confused by your presentation. I hear many people see you and think, "Woah, did you see them? They looked so cool." These people are always too shy to say anything to you though.

The people who are closest to you view you entirely differently. They know you well enough to see your truest emotion. Your emotions are as intense as the stare I talked about earlier. You have the heart of a dragon. It is difficult to express the deep feelings a dragon would feel through a humans body. It comes out as explosive bursts of immense sensational expression. You are the one laughing the hardest, crying the most, screaming the loudest, burning with fury and jumping all around when you get excited. The people closest to you see you as powerful because of this. They know you are harmless but if challenged you can be extremely dangerous. You are the king of sentiment though so the ones closest never get caught in the crossfire of your emotional depth.

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PILE TWO

Astrology: Cancer, Scorpio, Gemini

Song: Daddy AF by Slayyyer (spirit picked this one... not sure why)

Vibes: Purple, storm cloud blue, peach pink, cranes, wings, bindi, bangs/fringe, sake, green tea, circles, red lips, 222, 555, amethyst, rose quartz, Kali, Lilith, Hekate, Persephone

Cards: The High Priestess, Ace of Cups, Three of Swords, Mirror, Full Moon in Cancer

Welcome, pile two to your reading. You are scene as very mysterious. The public eye doesn't know what to make of you. Honestly, I can see the mystery in the cards but I am also struggling to tap into you. You are very guarded but very beautiful. If you have ever heard of the term kuudere, I think that would be pretty accurate to how to are perceived . If you are unfamiliar with the term it just means you seem very in control of you emotions. So much so that you might come off as cold to some people. You appear to be serene outwardly but on the inside I see you have many different emotions. The style you wear is similar to how your emotions are displayed. Serene and mysterious. I see you could wear spiritual clothing that is meant for spiritual protection. Overall, the public views as an extremely beautiful but private individual that is low-key spiritual.

You have a dark feminine energy to you. This can draw in those who are fascinated by mystery. You don't like to let people close to you though because of painful situations you have been in before. I see you have experienced many heartbreaks and have given many sacrifices to people who did not meet you with gratitude. You honestly didn't let this eat you up inside. You moved forward with confidence and led yourself towards loving yourself. You worked towards the relationship you had with yourself and you resolved a lot of pain that you carried with. Entirely because you were fed up with people breaking your heart. You decided you wanted the person closest to you to stop breaking it too. You.

Those who can even reach the idea of being close to you view you as much softer than the public. They still see you as pretty mysterious but they can see that you are very sweet and accommodating. They have seen you at your worst and watched you kick ass all the way through. They see you as the baddest bitch on the block. It is very rare for you to have people close to you but when there are you are very loyal. You like to invite them over for drinks and thats when you let your truest self shine. You are an absolute riot. You have the wittiest joke and the funniest comebacks even when you are intoxicated. You have allowed yourself to cry on a friends shoulder over drinks too. Alcohol really loosens that vice grip you have on your emotions. I see you really only let your best friend see these parts of you. This person views you as their favorite person on earth. They really truly believe you are an angel. They have supported you through a couple really hard break-ups. I think they will always be the closest one to your heart.

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PILE THREE

Astrology: Aquarius, Capricorn, Taurus

Song: Little Lies by Fleetwood Mac

Vibes: Grey-blue, gold, purple, white, stain glass windows, arctic foxes, wolves, yokai, beetles, sharks, snow, ice, winter, 111, 963, 100, red hair, feathers, black tourmaline, Ares, Hephaestus, Hestia

Cards: 6 of Pentacles, 5 of Pentacles, 3 of Pentacles, New Moon, Shark

Hi, pile three! You have an entirely different impression you often give than how you actually are. Those who see you would not be able to guess how you actually are. You give a very scary vibe off to people. Strangers are intimidated by your appearance. Which is such a shame because your energy is so warm and inviting. :( You are very tall and have a broad figure with wide shoulders. You tower over most people. If you aren't physically tall people still get that energy of intimidation from your energy. People scurry out of your way as you walk past and avoid looking you in the eyes. You also have very strong eye brows which might give you real bad RBF. Those who aren't scared off by you, hold a lot of envy for how much you command attention. I also see you have really long beautiful legs that people comment on all the time. They mostly seem like complements but they probably don't really feel like it. They want to be like you but they just don't understand how much it actually bothers you to be as big as you are. I'm so sorry to you about all the door frames you run into and all the beds you have grown out of. It's tough be a big person.

Despite all your physical appearances, you have a lovely soft feminine energy. It is so nice to be in it feels like the biggest, softest, warmest bear hug to ever exist. You are a wonderful host. I can smell something really good so you might be an excellent cook or baker. I see you love to give back to your community through this skill. Which makes those a bit closer see you as this protective loving parental energy. I see you baking cookies for your neighbors and maybe your church. I can feel how happy you make people feel the closer they get to you. You have such a soft heart with a rough outer exterior. It does throw some of your neighbors kids for a loop at first.

Finally, those who are closest to you see you as extremely generous and kind. They know the world thinks you have sharp claws but they know that they are mistaking paws for claws. They love being around you and working together to help being a safer community. They know you give to charity and work in a place that helps those in needs. They see you as the sweetest, nicest person they have ever met in their lives. They wouldn't trade you for anyone. They trust you with their lives. If they are in any danger or in need they call you first. I think maybe at some point you had someone slander your good name because of your appearances. All your closest community friends and family came to your defense and saved your reputation. They truly, deeply care for you and I think you feel the exact same.

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PILE FOUR

Astrology: Aries, Libra, Sagittarius

Song: Cooler Than Me (Cover) by Ethan Fields

Vibes: Gold, black, teal, white flowers, maximalism, alternative fashion, lily pads, frogs, 333, 4646, leaves, vines, coral, mountains, low gravity, forests, fairies, pixies, unicorns, culture, tigers eye, Zues, Aphrodite, Eros

Cards: Queen of Cups, 3 of Cups, Ace of Pentacles, Full Moon, Expectations

Hey there, pile four. Welcome to your reading! People outside of your circle see you are drop dead gorgeous. You make everyone question their sexuality or fall to their knees. Even your friends flirt with you constantly. You obviously flirt back just for funsies but thaaat can get you into some romantic fiascos that you never had any intention in getting into. Oops, lmao! I see strangers see you in two different lights. There are people who are stunned by your handsomeness. They are the ones turning their heads to get a second look. ;) Theeeeen there are the people who think you are doing way too much just because you like looking good. Thats dumb. Those people are dumb. Their opinions do not matter. That's because you are one of a kind! No one can match your style and brilliance. No one has the confidence to do what you do and make it look THAT good. AND THE BEST PAAART is that everyone knows it. Even if they are acting nasty about it. I see you like to wear lots of jewelry. Chains on chains on jewels on chains. You aren't addicted to glitter. Glitter is addicted to YOU!!! You love to do stuff with your hair too. I see you might have many wigs that you love to trade out. People are always convinced it's your real hair. Everyday you get more and more admirers. The public can not get enough of you.

Your energy is interesting. It is feminine but it presents in such a masculine way. You have this go getter vibe to you but then everything seems to come your way before you can even step towards it. It's like for a long time you had to fight for what you wanted but now people just hand you things you want before you can even ask. When people get closer to you, they just seem to give you things randomly. They will hook you up with their connections. Literally people are doing your networking for you. The way people see you gives you many opportunities in life. Don't worry about getting the opportunities yourself, baby. The universe loves to spoil you through your admirers.

The people closest to you see that you are a go with the flow kind of person. The universe pushes you somewhere and you just let it push you along like a leaf in the wind. Some of your closest friends think you are nuts but they know it always seems to work out for you anyway. Even if you don't make sense to them. They see you are a surviver and they know how ruthless you can be, babe. They see these as extremely admirable traits. The people closest to you feel like they have been around you since you were young so they like to mess with you like siblings would. It is pretty easy to get close to you though so they might not all be that way. They view you as loyal, kind, fun and unique. They wouldn't have you any other way.

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johnwickb1tsch · 18 days

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🌻Small Town Girl🌻 ~ Part 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want a milkshake?”

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

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

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

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

“Hmm. That’s a hard choice, darlin’.”

“You need some time to think about it?”

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

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

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

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

“Comin’ right up, mister.”

“Tex.”

“Pardon?”

“That’s my name. Tex.”

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

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

“Well, we wouldn’t want that.”

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

You’re not falling for it.

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

***

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

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

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

“Not for hours,” you lie.

“I’ll wait for you, darlin’.”

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

“Surely you have somethin’ better to do.”

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

“Oh yeah? What do you do?”

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

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

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

“Wouldn’t that be some shit?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not your idea of fun?”

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

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

“Easier said than done, believe me.”

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

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

“I don’t think so.”

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

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

“That’s exactly what bad men say.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But none of them are you, darlin’.”

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

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

“Including you?”

“No.”

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

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

“My gut.”

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You did good today, sticking to your guns.

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

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

You’ve got somewhere to be.

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n, I see you spoiling my horse.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well ain’t you a peach?”

“Dale?”

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

“Yeah, honey?”

“Sell me this horse.”

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

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

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

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

“You really are a piece of work.”

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, that’s our cue to go.”

“What?”

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

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

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

“You should have let him hit me!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds like you know ‘em pretty well.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Want to split a funnel cake?”

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

“Yeah.”

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

“I knew you’d come around, darlin’.”

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

They all say that at first.

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

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

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

“Oh yeah? Are you an actor?”

“I was a stuntman for a little while.”

“Anything I’ve seen?”

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

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

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

“So…what do you do now?”

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

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

“Okay…that’s not creepy at all.”

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

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

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

***

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

“Haunted house?”

“No way.”

“Swings?”

“Don’t trust them.”

“Roller coaster?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A farmer.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s just cold up here.”

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

“Sure it is, sweetheart.”

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

“Tex?”

“Yeah, beautiful?”��

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just…hold on to me, ok?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You imp! I thought we were stuck!”

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

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

“I’m ok.”

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

“Tex…”

“Yeah, honey?”

“I think…I think I better go home.”

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

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

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

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

“I guess…I can’t stop you.”

“Would you want to though?”

Therein lay the million dollar question.

“Maybe not?”

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

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

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

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

“Tex…”

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

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

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

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neechees · 2 months

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Almost the entire aesthetic of cowboy fashion itself is basically appropriated looks from Native American fashion except a few things that coincidentally also came from somewhere else or were a result of acculturation (like chaps, but the design is startling similar to Plains men's leggings). There's "cowboy fashion" websites that just steal looks & designs from Plains Natives.

The leather clothing? That's Native. The fringe? That's famous in Native fashion, and in some tribe the fringe actually means something. The geometric blanket patterns? That's southwestern Native American & Indigenous Mexican weave. Turquoise and silver jewelry? Navajo have been doing that for thousands of years. Floral shirts and jackets? Also Native American, That's a standard old Native man essential.

It's almost impossible to dress like a cowboy & not be wearing appropriated Native looks

#the same thing goes for hippies & hipsters

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literaryvein-reblogs · 2 months

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Word List: Fashion History

to try to include in your poem/story (pt. 2/3)

Exomis - a short, asymmetrical wrap garment pinned at the left shoulder, worn by men in Ancient Greece

Eye of Horus - or Wedjat eye, is an ancient Egyptian symbol that represents the eye of the falcon-headed god Horus and symbolizes healing and regeneration and was often worn for protection

Faience - a man-made ceramic material that was often used in ancient Egypt to make jewelry and devotional objects; it is usually a blue color

Falling Band - a flat and broad white collar often with lace on the edges, worn by men and women in the 17th century

Fibula - served as a pin to both hold garments together and to show status of those with prestige or power within society; was popular in Greek culture

Fichu - a triangular shawl, usually worn by women, draped over the shoulders and crossed or fastened in the front

Fontange - a linen cap with layers of lace and ribbon, worn flat and pinned to the back of the head

French Hood - a rounded headdress for women that was popular in the 16th century (from 1540)

Frock Coat - a collared man’s coat worn through the eighteenth to the twentieth century; rose to prominence mainly in the nineteenth century, especially Victorian England; characterized as a knee-length overcoat, buttoned down to the waist, that drapes over the lower half of the body like a skirt

Frogging - ornamental braid or cording that can function as a garment closure, or be solely decorative

Gabled Hood - a woman’s headdress that is wired to create a point at the top of the head and has fabric that drapes from the back of the head

Gigot Sleeve - a sleeve that was full at the shoulder and became tightly fitted to the wrist; also called leg-of-mutton sleeve

Guipure Lace - a type of continuous bobbin lace made without a mesh ground; its motifs are connected by bridges or plaits

Himation - a rectangular cloak wrapped around the body and thrown over the left shoulder worn by the ancient Greeks

Huipilli/Huipil - a woven rectangular shirt worn by women in Central America beginning in ancient times

Jerkin - a close-fitting men’s jacket, often worn for warmth, sometimes without sleeves; worn over a doublet in the 16th and 17th centuries

Justaucorps - a long-sleeved, knee-length coat worn by men after 1666 and throughout the 18th century

Kaftan - (also caftan) is an ancient garment, which originated in ancient Persia but then spread across Central and Western Asia; a kind of robe or tunic that was worn by both men and women

Katazome (stencil printing) - a traditional Japanese method for printing designs onto fabric using a stencil and paste-resist dyes

Kaunakes - one of the earliest forms of clothing; made from goat or sheep’s wool and meant to be worn around the waist like a skirt, it is recognizable by its fringe detailing

Kente - a Ghanaian strip woven textile that has striped patterns and bright colors with corresponding meanings

Knickerbockers - or “knickers” are full or baggy trousers gathered at the knee or just below and usually fastened with either a button or buckle; were initially worn by men in the late 19th century and gradually became part of women’s fashion; the garment was usually worn as sportswear and became especially popular among golfers and female cyclists, hence the term “pedal pushers”

Kohl - a black material made out of minerals such as galena and used for eyeliner and eye protection in ancient Egypt

Labret - a type of lip-piercing worn by various cultures to indicate wealth, prosperity and beauty

Love Lock - a lock of hair from the nape of the neck hanging over the chest to show romantic attachment; it was a popular hairstyle between 1590-1650

Lurex - a shiny synthetic fiber made of aluminum-coated plastic with a glittering metallic sheen

Mantua - a jacket-like bodice with pulled back overskirt that bustled in the back, often in elaborately patterned fabric, first worn in the 17th century

Medici Collar - a collar that stands upright on the back of the neck and opens in the front; this type of ruff was introduced to France by Marie de’ Medici in the 16th century, taking her name two centuries later

Moccasins - a type of soft animal skin shoe that were worn by Indians in North America

Muff - a tubular padded covering of fur or fabric, into which both hands are placed for warmth

Mule - a backless shoe

Muslin - a simple plain-weave textile made out of cotton and available in varying weights and finishes; historically, there were also varieties of muslin in silk and wool

Needle Lace -often known as “needlepoint lace”; is a term referring to the technique in which the lace is made of entirely needle work; it developed in the 15th century and then became very popular throughout the 16th century

Nemes Headdress - starched, striped linen headdress that draped on the shoulders and had a tail at center back worn only by royals in ancient Egypt

Panes/Paning - a method of decoration using long parallel strips of fabric arranged to reveal a contrasting fabric underneath that was fashionable from the 15th-17th centuries

Panniers - an under-structure used in eighteenth-century fashion that created a shape wide at the sides and flat at the front and back

Pantalettes - (also referred to as pantaloons) are loose, pants-like undergarments that covered women’s lower halves in the late 18th and early 19th century

Particolored - the combination of different colors within the same garment along the vertical axis

Passementerie - an additional accent or embellishment in silk or metallic threads, such as an embroidered braid, tassel or fringe

Pattens - wooden-soled platform over-shoes, which were commonly worn from the 14th century to the 18th century

If any of these words make their way into your next poem/story, please tag me, or leave a link in the replies. I would love to read them!

More: Fashion History More: Word Lists

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littlesparklight · 1 year

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Okay, actually, let me do a quick, basic primer for Mycenaean fashion, if anyone would want to try this aesthetic for their Greek myth art since Mycenaean era Greece (1400-1200 is when the majority of the myths happen, and especially the Trojan war). Not claiming to be an expert at all, here, as I've mostly googled shit and screencapped images to use as ref and then read some articles, but, I figure, it might be somewhere to start!

Here's one of the panels from the Hagia triada sarcophagus, from Crete during Mycenaean control/hegemony of the island. The women are painted white, the men dark; artistic aesthetic you see in other cultures for their visual arts of the time, like Ancient Egypt.

I think the fur(?) skirts might be religious wear, but aside from that, you have one woman and one man (specifically, the lyre player, which is probably indicative of some cultural attitudes; the lyre player in the fresco from Pylos is definitely wearing a fringed skirt of some sort, similar to what women wear) wearing a long robe/tunic, and the women are wearing some short jackets on top of that. The jackets might be Cretan or merely "early" style, because here's a fresco fragment from the Greek mainland where the woman appears to wear something similar:

It's probable (but basically impossible to know) that the thing underneath is a long robe/tunic like the women above are wearing, short or sleeve-less.

Another Mycenaean/mainland Greek fresco. In this one you'd have to decide if the top halves of the women's dress is a short (but not cut-away) jacket, plus wrap-around, tiered/fringed skirt, or a long robe/tunic with really deep neckline and, again, a wrap-around tiered/fringed skirt.

Now, you don't need to make things harder for yourself than you have to! Women can wear a simpler style of dress (like what the man in the first fresco panel is wearing), basically the same as the men's, probably just longer:

It's possible these two women are wearing wrap around skirts below the edge of the chariot, but I doubt it. As you can see, their style of dress is the same as the man's above, with a plain, straight collar.

The various lines you see plunging down the sides of both the longer robes/tunics and the shorter ones are down the sides (under the arms and down) and might also/either be down the front, at least on the long dresses with elaborate bottom rim; the woman in saffron above clearly has a decorated line going down her front.

I'll put the rest of this under the cut!

Some nice art with Mycenaean-era dress and armour for some of our Trojan war characters. (Aeneas and Hektor notably wearing Mycenaean wear even if they probably wouldn't be.)

I like this site http://www.salimbeti.com/micenei/index.htm for both art and a lot of pictures of artifacts when it comes to armour and weapons from the Mycenaean era.

The men don't just wear those tunics, though; you can get some (short) kilts or skirts;

(In my opinion, I'd say it's basically a given the one/two dudes painted in basically black are meant to be from further south compared to the Greek dude here. Probably not sub-Saharan Africa, however. North Africa/Egyptian might be more reasonable, despite the impossibly dark skin.)

Some examples of the clothes recreated!

This article https://www.jstor.org/stable/20627591 talks about a fresco and its possible reconstructions, and, more importantly, includes photos of some women's clothes, especially the fringed/tiered wrap-around skirts recreated, and some drawing diagrams of said skirts that might be helpful!

Hair-wise, the majority of the men have hair anywhere from around the ears down to the shoulders in mainland Greece. (The exception being, again, the Pylian lyre player.) Minoans, even mycenaean-era Minoans, might have longer hair; one of the panels on the Hagia triada fresco has a flute-player with hair down to his waist in braids (or something like that), for example.

All the women, no matter Cretan/Minoan or Mycenaean/Greek have very long hair, gathered in variously more or less elaborate hairstyles; make your best guess from looking at the frescos is my suggestion!

#greek mythology #trojan war #I might add a reblog for jewellery?#but trust me you can find lots of nice pictures of #mycenaean jewellery if you search exactly for that

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seraph5 · 2 years

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Ok now I’ve got the colour palette working ✨

Image description: digital art of Emerich Dreadway, Beef Punchley, and Montrose Pretty from TAZ Steeplechase, wearing purple jumpsuit uniforms with golden name badges.

Emerich is an older slim and light-skinned man with slicked-back salt and pepper hair and a moustache, levitating a hard-light prism above one hand with an expression of concentration, as it gives off a green glow. This jumpsuit is zipped up and his collar is pinned up and closed. To his right, Beef is a muscular tan-skinned man with flowing blond hair, with his uniform repurposed as a ripped fringe jacket and shorts, and he's smiling and striking a heroic pose.

Finally, Montrose sits on the ground between them with his legs crossed. He's slim with light brown skin and barely-visible dark hair, wearing a smiling white mask with glowing green eyes, and has the upper half of his jumpsuit tied around his waist like a jacket. His hands are covered by black gloves. The background is a purple grid, and blue text above the men reads "Steeplechase". End description.

#myart #the adventure zone steeplechase #taz steeplechase #the adventure zone #montrose pretty #taz montrose #taz beef #beef punchley #emerich dreadway #taz emerich #taz #steeplechase

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rosiesthehat · 26 days

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nothing's gonna hurt you, baby.

Pairing: Rose the Hat X Reader

Word Count: 4k

Tags: smut, oral (r. recieving), blood kink, reader has magic!

Summary: A distant voice fills your mind, you go and find it.

Author’s Note: I read somewhere that book!Rose has a deep fascination with blood, I tried to add it a bit here! This is also on my AO3!

“You’re a special little thing, aren’t you?”

The voice comes from all around you. The teasing words swim through your brain, creating a mist between your ears that you can’t shake. It may be the whiskey that’s making your vision go blurry, but seeing as you haven’t even finished half of your share, you’re close to believing that you’ve become drunk on that voice.

“The special ones always taste the best.”

You lift your nose from the glass you’ve been nursing for far too long, now uninterested in the drink entirely but too shameful to return it to the bartender. Drinks come rarely, dangerously, now, yet are completely necessary to keep your mind, your power, at bay.

“Come and find me.”

She’s going to make you work for it.

You haven’t done the workin quite some time. You’re lucky enough to not remember the last time it happened. You’re not entirely sure how it happens. All you can hope is that your longing to put a face to this mystery voice will jumpstart your brain into action.

You shut your eyes, focusing on the smooth jazz humming from the quartet in the far corner of the speakeasy. Their faces begin to fill in behind their instruments, blue eyes and suit jackets blurry, yet still enough to form a picture in your mind’s eye. Then come the bodies of slow dancers, a few women clad in fringe dresses clinging to mustachioed men who cling to their drinks.

Your spectral being guides out the room, through the secret bookshelf entrance and back into the hobby of the hotel where the speakeasy hides. You glance around, bodies forming from lumps of fuzz as you move through the room, trying to focus on any discerning features, any mischievous smirks or knowing glances. You pay no attention to the men, of course, but you do take the time to note a few of them with particularly expensive watches that you stow in your mind for later. None of the women sitting in the hotel lobby seem at all evil enough to match the sultry voice still lingering between your ears, so you move on, weaving through hallways and, eventually, up the master staircase.

There’s no chance that you’re going to spend hours searching through every last room that the hotel has. You were desperate to meet this mystery woman, but not that desperate. She’d leave her room soon enough. You’re ready to give up her search, let her come to you if she wants, but—

“You’re getting closer…” The voice teases again, her voice mockingly low, a hint of a moan behind her tongue. You focus harder, trying to pick up on anything that might lead you in her direction. Then, you grab it. Cars honking in the distance, voices of people, But the voices are too muffled, she isn’t on the street.

Your eyebrows furrow, you grip the glass between your hands so hard you fear it may shatter. It’s been too long since you’ve let your astral body subtract from your own like this, and the minute amount of alcohol flowing through you is rendering you a bit wobbly.

The voice disappears.

You think, for far too long, so much so that you fear you look utterly ridiculous, sitting at a bar with your eyes shut, gripping your glass like a mad woman.

Then, it hits you.

The roof.

Your ghost snaps back into action, ascending the many floors of the hotel in a heartbeat’s time. To use a heart’s beating as a measurement of time is fruitless, as your own is beating so quick that it’s impossible to count them. You feel the flutter in your chest as you fly through the door, and there the owner of the voice sits.

She flicks her head around, surely feeling your presence, and you only see the shockingly beautiful face before your soul returns to your restless body. You rise from your chair in a start, racing out of the bar and into the hotel with the speed of a rabbit. Your desperation to find this woman has been satisfied, but now you’re overcome by an insatiable need to truly stand in her presence. You don’t think your eyes have ever graced a woman so alluring, with such wild hair and the piercing eyes of an owl, which, if you recall, had the littlest shimmer of a glow to them.

By the time you’ve made it up the stairs, knees weak and chest heaving, you feel a sudden block standing in your way. You take a moment to let your breath catch up to the rest of you, fiddling anxiously with your skirt as you consider all of the ways that the woman behind this door could be dangerous. She was certainly just as powerful as, if not more than, you, if she was able to get inside your mind, the mind so built up with fortitude and yet so deeply dilapidated by your own drinking habits, that you were barely able to gain control of yourself.

You didn’t even know there was anyone else like you in this world. You always knew there was something special about you, since the time when you were quite young and found yourself able to spy on the entire neighborhood from the comfort of your little pink canopy bed. The skill raised a mischievous little girl, and an entirely heartbroken young woman.

Your delicate brain was now wracked with prescient visions of your own death, but that subconscious need to wrap your arms around this mystery woman, to know all of her stories and to count the trinkets in her hair, took control of your hands and opened the door onto the roof of the building.

“Well, hi there.” She grins, her eyes hungry, but the rest of her face as sweet and caring as a mother’s.

You shakily take a few steps forward out of the shadows and into the moon’s cool glow, the small porch light on the roof flickering a few times before diminishing. You can’t help but wonder if it’s something that she’s done, if she’s read your mind and felt your discomfort in the flashing, put it out for you.

“Don’t worry. Nothing’s gonna hurt you, baby.” She coos, outstretching a hand. She’s definitely sensed your discomfort in her presence, but anyone with a trained eye would mark your fidgeting hands and shaky breath floating in the cool night air.

You swallow hard before taking a shy step closer, then another, until you’re sitting by her side before you can think to even do such a thing. She sits on the ledge of the roof, legs dangling over, threatening to spill out onto the alleyway that’s at least fifteen stories down. You force your eyes not to look down as you take a similar seat, but keep your legs on the concrete of the building’s roof.

“Don’t be frightened.” She hums, her lithe fingers raising to twirl in your hair. Her breath is warm against your cheek, marred by the smell of starvation and cheap wine, but it’s far from a scent you’d turn away from. You find yourself leaning ever closer to the woman, entranced by the woman’s soft voice and divinely pointed nose. You’re so very close to her, yet the words that you’re begging to say, the questions you yearn for answers to, refuse to leave your throat. It feels as though she’s wrapped a sly finger around your vocal cords, allowing only a few needy whimpers to pass your lips.

“My name is Rose.” She purrs, her fingers gliding against your jaw, tilting your head each way so that she may see the fullness of your cheeks under the rising moon. You try to do the same to her, to take in each feature of her face, but you’re so entranced by her glowing eyes, that you can’t seem to pull yourself out of them. “And you, little one… You sure are something.”

You can only blink back at her, body feeling weak below your heavy shoulders. You try to conjure up words of your own, try to introduce yourself, but you can’t. And you’re sure she’s already been through each ridge and valley of your mind, so introductions won’t be necessary.

Rose practically has full control of you now, and before you can fight back, she has you pinned to the ledge, back flat against cold stone, her muscled arm positioned by your head so that you can’t fight against her. You can only wiggle, but the hand that lays flat against your stomach keeps you still, allowing no more movement from your body. You feel tears prick your eyes, try to fight them down. You’re not so much scared of the woman above you as you are terrified of your possible fall from this roof, but your previous prescience hadn’t outlined such a death, so your tears subside.

“Don’t cry, sweet thing…” She purrs, lifting a hand to the flat-brimmed hat taming her wonderful curls, producing a thin needle from its body. “This won’t hurt a bit. Well, it will, but you won’t be alive long enough to feel the pain.” Her voice is impossibly calming, and it tricks your brain into trusting her, into falling victim to her body’s heat and her lulling tone, sending you into a meditative state, your body going limp below her.

“Get off…” You’re able to force out, though it’s just above a whisper, and she’s either not heard you or chooses to ignore you, because Rose’s hand is unshaken as she points the needle to your eye, daring to press it in further. But she’s taking her sweet time, feeding off of the fear in your eyes, enjoying the sight of your flushed cheeks and hooded lids, the way you’re completely subservient to her every move.

“I said, get off!” you yell, and the power of your voice is enough to fling the predator off of you, sending her straight back into the brick wall behind her. You scurry off of the ledge, finding safety on the floor of the roof, curling into yourself as you gaze upon what you’ve done. Nothing like this has every happened before. The astral projection, the visions of the future, those were all frequent experiences. You’d never so much as moved something an inch with your mind, so to throw a grown woman a couple meters into the air… it brought a new shake to your fingers.

She lay against the brick wall, blood dripping from her nose, eyes shut as though unconscious, but you could still hear her breathing, still feel a life force beating through her.

“I’m…” You stutter, standing to check her wounds. Though the woman was about to kill you, you felt a sympathy for her tug at your heart, so though you keep your distance, you still hope she wasn’t too badly hurt. “I’m sorry… I didn’t know I would… That anything like that would happen…” Your voice is breathy, stuttering over your words, and the fear returns when she stirs, sits up, stares at you.

But it’s not fear, and she can feel it. You’re not scared of Rose. Not in the typical meaning of the word. You feel an invisible string tying you to her, a deep-rooted need for her that dares you to step closer, and you do.

“I was right. You’re powerful, aren’t you…” There’s a smirk on her lips when you bend to kneel by her side, her hands returning to your face, forefinger swiping at the blood pooling on your cheek, from her long needle swiping your flesh. She grins at the glossy liquid, slides her own finger against her tongue, accepting your blood against her tastebuds, eliciting a sigh from the flavor she’d so dearly missed. “You’re not scared of me, are you, little bunny?” Her smile is downright starving, as she shifts to sit on her knees, towering over you once again.

You think for a moment, pensively chewing on your lower lip, but ultimately shake your head in response. She must be aware that despite your rushed blood flow and dilated pupils, it’s not in fear that your body reacts. It’s in intense attraction. An attraction that Rose feels, that she reciprocates, that she acts on. She wraps her arm around your neck, not squeezing, only stabilizing, holding you steady as she peppers a few rushed, sloppy kisses to your cheek, greedy for the taste of your blood, greedy to feel the warmth of your cheeks against her undead lips.

“Rose…” You groan, your hands finally tangling in the hair that you so desperately wanted to grip into since first laying eyes on the woman. “I have a room, downstairs…” Your voice is replaced by moans when the woman moves her attacking kisses from your cheeks to your jaw, her teeth grating against the sharp bone there, surely leaving redness in her wake.

“Take me there, special girl.” She grunts in return, allowing herself a few more kisses to your skin before standing, pulling you up on weak legs forcing you in the direction of the door. But you don’t make it far before you’ve thrown yourself onto her once again, placing a few hungry kisses of your own to her lips, tasting your own blood on her tongue, gripping her waist so hard that you nearly leave the ground. She laughs into you, picking you up so that you may reach her height more appropriately, pressing you hard against the exit door, laying you flat against the cold metal of the door.

You pull away, hands playing with the small metal trinkets braided into her hair, tugging her head back as well. “Not here.” You whisper, voice small but still carrying the resolve needed. You couldn’t risk being seen, even though it was nearing the middle of the night, and you were on one of the highest buildings in the city, that fear of being caught still nipped at you.

Rose relented, pressing a kiss to your forehead before placing you back on the ground, allowing you to lead her back to your hotel room. The walk is short, but you find it prolonged by the aching between your legs, by the way Rose walks a few paces behind you as to not raise suspicion. Though you’re sure you’ve raised enough suspicion just from your appearances, you with your hair a mess and your eye makeup running, Rose with the marks of red lipstick smudged around her mouth. But you don’t care, you like the feeling of being so scandalous.

It's a matter of milliseconds from your entrance in your hotel room to your body hitting the bed, Rose holding herself up over you, your hands gripping the patterned tie that dangles from her neck. You’d at first missed the look of her menswear, the dark of the roof turning her into a blob of darkness below the shoulders, but in the light, you appreciate her clothing choices. She looks impossibly dapper, wearing the suit better than any man you’d ever met. You use the tie to bring her down over you, to connect your lips once more, enjoying the feeling of Rose’s warm tongue collecting your blood once again. Her fascination with blood is a spectacle to you, such an strange thing that’s not unbecoming of her, that, if anything, matches her odd spirit, her magical eyes. You find it incredibly attractive.

Rose drags her kisses down your neck once again, moving so that you may remove the drop-waist dress, throw it into pile on the floor. She sits back, looms over you, loosens the tie and unbuttons a few of the top buttons of her shirt before throwing her jacket to the same fate as your dress. Though she’s pinned you down, her hips over yours, keeping you flat against the mattress, you still wiggle below her, hands reaching up to grab at her belt, undoing it as best you can with shaking hands.

Her smirk is ever resting on her face, tongue swiping over her lower cheek when you lift your hips to rock into her own, her hand once again lowering so that you cease your movement.

“How pretty.” She purrs lowly, her voice still as low and seductive as it had been in your mind. Her lithe fingers toy with the lace of your underwear, tugging at it gently, enjoying the hitch in your breath as she does so. She enjoys your excitement so much so, that she leaves your underwear on, and instead returns to your top half to tease your already red skin. Rose does allow the removal of your matching bra, however, undoing the clasp with ease before discarding it to an unknown location, her eyes only focused on the curve of your breasts. She chews on her lip, as though trying to hold herself back, to remind herself that you’re a delicate little thing, that she must be gentle. A very difficult thing for a beast such as herself to remember.

When you’ve groaned her name enough times, tugged at her pants hard enough, Rose finally lets herself at you, fervently wrapping her lips around your nipple, her mouth’s moisture dripping onto you, rough hands roaming your body, eventually finding your other breast to tease the nipple there. Her hips buck against your thigh, and you rise it so that she may straddle it fully, and you moan when the feeling of wet cloth presses against your bare skin. She rubs against you as if in heat, as if the taste of your blood has sent her into a daze.

Your hands rest atop her hat, the vintage velvet material impossibly soft against your fingers, yet those fingers yearn to feel her hair, so you lift the hat an inch or so to remove to from her head entirely. Rose’s head snaps up, her eyes shining a bright, nearly blinding, white light, her brows furrowed.

“Don’t.” is all she says before returning to her work at your chest, and though you huff a little at the order, you accept it. She has so much more experience in this world than you, so even though you’re upset by the inability to muss her hair, you accept her demand.

Her kisses soon move down your stomach, her indulgent smile all too pleased when she finally reaches your thighs, and you toss your legs over her shoulders, allowing her to stake claim over your heat. Rose nudges her head against the soft skin of your thigh before sucking at your skin, leaving her signature red marks there. You’re growing impatient, and you know that the pool in your underwear has grown incredibly large.

Rose confirms your suspicions when she pushes the lace material to the side, a low laugh erupting from her before her tongue swipes a long line through your wetness, collecting all of your taste into her starving mouth, eyes glowing impossibly brighter from the taste. She lets out a series of curses, but you don’t hear them, for a moan of your own has encapsulated the room, you voice louder than it has ever been in your life.

“You taste of whiskey.” She purrs against your skin, her voice sending a vibration though you that sends your head flying back into the thin pillow beneath you.

Rose takes another moment to enjoy the sight of you from this angle, and as much as you enjoy her overindulgent personality, the beautifully awe-filled expression on her sweet face, you’re growing impatient, even more wet, with each moment that passes. You squeeze your legs around her neck, tugging her down so that she may finally do what you’re both begging for.

The older woman drops her head, her lips attaching to your clit, smooth, rhythmic movements to the bundle of nerves forcing your back off the bed, your hands returning to lay on her hat, desperate to tug on the hair there. She must hear your mind’s desperation, must have changed her mind in the high of your taste, for she removes the hat, careful to place it beside you on the bed, not daring to let it touch the ground. You want to thank her, but when you finally do sink your fingers into her incredible curls, one of Rose’s own skilled fingers slides into you, curling so that another series of moans flies from your lips.

“Rose—” Your voice is strained as you rock your hips against her mouth, fingers tugging on her hair, hard enough that you should be able to pull her off of you entirely, but she is so focused on her tongue’s movement that not even the hand of God could pull her off of you. You try to praise her, to tell her how good she’s making you feel, but all that comes out are a series of curses, and judging by the way she’s already read your mind so many times this evening, you don’t need spoken words to communicate with your lover. She knows exactly what you need before you even register your need for it, and slips a second finger into your cunt, dipping her fingers in and out of your warm body with quick motions.

You groan her name many more times, your hands flying out of her hair and over your face when the tightness forms in your stomach.

Rose, ever clairvoyant about your own emotions, picks up her pace.

“Come on my tongue, my darling.” She says without speaking, her voice filling your mind once again, creating that brain fog that had so drawn you to her in the first place.

You do as you’re told right away, your muscles tensing up before falling weak against the cheap hotel mattress. You still hide your face beneath your hands, fingers able to feel your heartbeat through the flushed skin of your cheeks. Rose is gentle, yet entirely selfish with her next movements, her tongue swiping up all of your wetness, making sure that she’s stolen all of your taste, licked you clean, before she moves to lay next to you on the bed. She forces your hands away from your face, caressing your cheek gently, lightly laughing at how red you are. Rose thoroughly enjoys the sight, as the warmth of your cheeks is a dear reminder of how much life you possess, a stark contrast from her own flesh, which, though it is still tan and freckled from time spent in the sun, is growing sad from the lack of nutrients, from her centuries spent walking the earth.

You crawl on top of her, pressing a kiss to her lips, reversing your role and pinning her down with your own hips this time.

“You are so special.” She whispers as you gently unbutton her shirt, your body fueled by a craving to see just how low her freckles trail. You gaze up to her when she speaks, fingers ceasing their movements when she lifts a hand to cradle your chin. “Such a special girl deserves to live long.” She purrs, drawing you back down for another longing kiss. When you rise from it, head tilting to the side in curiosity, she simply shakes her head, pulls you back down so that your head rests on her shoulder, where you lay calmly, ears searching for a heartbeat that never arrives. “I have a plan for you, sweet girl. You’ll need to rest.” Her voice is heavy when it enters your eyes, your eyelids drooping almost immediately. You don’t notice the way Rose places her hat back on her head, only fall into a deep slumber, only relying on the rise and fall of her chest.

#𓏲🎀ꜝֶָ֢ annie's fics ⋆⸜ ‧₊˚#rose the hat #doctor sleep #the shining #rose the hat x reader #x reader fanfic #lesbian fanfic #horror x reader #horror fanfic

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