Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

You had no way of knowing how long you'd been trapped in that horrible basement. You could barely remember what had happened to you before you had woken up that day.

There were flashes of memories. Flashes of tall figures standing over you. Flashes of you screaming and trying to hide in the corner of your dilapidated cell. Flashes of pain–pain that still lingered when you touched your bruised face or flexed your back muscles which were torn by mysterious wounds and gashes that you couldn't see. Pain that you had begged to stop until you blacked out. But you couldn't–wouldn't–let yourself remember the specifics. Not until you knew you were safe.

You winced as you crept your way up the staircase. Sunlight was streaming down into the stairwell through the cracks of a window that was boarded shut. The sunlight was painful to your eyes that had grown so accustomed to darkness. But the sunlight meant hope. The sunlight meant you were one step closer to freedom. The sunlight meant you wouldn't die in that basement without a trace of you ever being found. You held back tears that were welling in your eyes as you continued to sneak up the stairs, feather light.

You glanced left, and glanced right as you came up from the basement and into the house. You didn't even take in your surroundings long enough to notice notice the color of the walls because to your left, across the room, was a screen door. You didn't even hesitate or check if anyone else was nearby. You just instantly sprinted for the door, still keeping your body low to the floor, praying that if there was anyone in this decrepit house, they couldn't hear your footsteps.

You let out a quiet sigh, halfway between sob and celebration as you burst through the door and sucked down greedy, gasping lungfuls of fresh air. You sprinted out of the house, into the tall, swaying grass until you felt a stitch in your side from running too long. You were hyperventilating. You tried to steady your breathing, but you were beginning to sob. Whether it was from panic, overexertion or relief, you didn't yet know. When you realized that you were standing in a massive yard, overgrown, fenced off, and that you could hear no sounds of nearby traffic or neighbors on the street, you knew it was panic. There were several small, but abandoned-looking outbuildings on the property too. You had thought you were free. But the maze of the massive property made you feel just as trapped as the basement had. And now you were at the mercy of the elements, assuming the owners of this property didn't find you first.

You quickly snapped back to your senses as soon as you heard distant footsteps coming down the steps of the house and a door closing behind the footsteps. You didn't waste the moment to look back. You couldn't let yourself look back. One second of hesitation could kill you. You dropped as low as you could, praying that whoever came out of the house hadn't seen you yet and the tall grass would obscure you. You bee-lined for the shed that was closest to the house, thankful that the grass should be tall enough to obscure you all the way there.

You slid into the shed through a gaping hole near the bottom of the back wall, not wanting to risk making noise by opening and closing the door. You curled your knees into your chest as you sat on the floor among the dust and clutter of the shed and took deep breaths. You rubbed your temple with one hand, trying to soothe the pounding in your head and ears from your frantic, almost painfully fast heartbeat. You finally brought yourself to your feet, and on shaking legs, you began to look around the shed to see if you could find anything useful. Tools, weapons, a flashlight, gloves– you would take anything you could find that gave you a better chance of survival.

You'd been rummaging through a toolbox for maybe a minute before you heard footsteps outside. You froze instantly, your blood ice cold. You panicked and left the toolbox open on the workbench, obvious that you'd strewn things about on the table, and dove to hide behind a pile of bags and sacks in the corner of the shed seconds before the hinges of the door creaked open. Shit.

You could see a man's shadow painted on the wall. The footsteps moved closer to the workbench.
"Now isn't that strange. I don't remember leaving this sitting out." The man picks something up off the workbench, and tosses it down onto the surface with a clatter. He circled the area between the workbench and the shed's door like a shark. Pacing. Waiting. You silently cursed yourself for not even grabbing a hammer or a screwdriver in your panic. Anything to use as a makeshift weapon would have been better than being empty-handed.

You moved a hand over your mouth, feeling panic rise in your chest again. You tried not to sob. The hole you'd crawled into the shed through was directly in front of you, maybe ten feet away. If you were fast enough, maybe you could sprint outside before he could hurt you.

"You can't hide from me girl." He chuckled, but it almost sounded like a growl. "I'll make sure of that."

His footsteps stopped. You couldn't tell how far away he was. You couldn't see his shadow anymore. You closed your eyes, and held your breath.

Please don't look here. Please look somewhere else first so I can bolt.

You waited, completely silent, barely breathing for what felt like hours. You didn't hear the man make a sound. You couldn't even hear his breathing, either.

Without warning, a giant pair of arms wrapped around you, one around your chest, and one around your stomach. You were yanked to your feet. You let out a panicked wail, feeling yourself being pulled backwards, held in place against this man's chest.

"Please!" You yelped, instinctively. "Don't hurt me! Please don't hurt me!" You were already crying. You had no way of composing yourself. You knew it was hopeless to even pretend you could stay calm. You started slapping and clawing at his well muscled arms as viciously as you could with only your fingernails to protect you.

He laughed, and your entire body shook with the vibrations of it as he held you in place, your back pressed against his chest. "No one ever gets away from Johnny." He had leaned down to speak directly in your ear, his mouth so close and breath so hot against your skin you could feel the moisture on his breath. "Get that through your head that you're not getting away from me. It'll make things easier for both of us." His breath against your ear gave you goosebumps. You ground your teeth together, trying to ignore the sickening feeling in your stomach.

Johnny was his name, then. Johnny was the last person who would ever see you alive. Johnny was about to kill you. You clawed at his arm so aggressively that you felt your fingernails puncture skin. You could feel blood pooling under your nails.

He grunted angrily at your attempt to fight back and his grip on your chest tightened. The arm that had been wrapped around your stomach disappeared, and in an instant there was a knife blade just hairs away from your throat.

You let out a shriek of terror. "Please! I don't want to die!" The blade pressed against your throat, light as a feather. It was a silent threat. You let a pitiful whimper die in your throat. You were trying not to give him the satisfaction of seeing you come undone.

"Unless you want the others to come and spoil our fun, I'd shut your fucking mouth." Johnny clicked his tongue, breath still hot against your ear. You couldn't fight the shiver that ran down your spine. Every hair on your arms and legs stood on end.

You stopped making noise, but sobbed silently, tears starting to stream down your face. Is he about to kill me?

"Now that's a good girl." The knife disappeared from your throat. His hand crept down to your chest, squeezing at one of your tits.

You let out another cry, and tried to wriggle free of his grip but his well-defined arms had you held firmly in place. He kept groping at you, and you yelped out even more loudly. You hated that the pressure of his hands against your body made your face flush. You began screaming, clawing at the arm around your chest again. You could tell you'd broken skin on his arm again, and felt blood on your fingers.

"Oh no no no." He chided you. "We can't have all that noise." A gloved hand grabbed your wrist and pulled it away from the arm that was still wrapped around your chest. You heard him wince as your nails scraped against the cuts from your fingernails. As soon as he'd shoved your hand away from his arm, he went back to groping your chest.

"Stop it. Don't touch me like that." You somehow found the courage to shout at him. It was the only thing you could do to keep yourself from folding on the spot. You hated that he was fucking with you and getting you riled up.

He grabbed your shoulders and spun you around, shoving you against one of the shed's walls. He slammed you against the wall so hard your head swam from the impact. Your vision was blurry as you looked up at his scarred face. A dark lock of hair was plastered to his sweaty forehead. The rest of his hair was slicked back.

You frantically tried to duck underneath his grip and drop to the floor to crawl away, but a gloved hand slammed into your throat, pinning you to the wall. You tried to gasp for air, but he was choking you out. He bared his teeth in a twisted grin, watching you with a morbid fascination as you struggled against him.

He's going to strangle me. I'm about to die.

He finally let you take a breath in, moments before your vision went black. Instantly you started to scream. His gloved hand slapped over your mouth, silencing you. Your eyes went wide, staring up into his near-black eyes with terror.

"I'll give you two choices." Johnny smiled at you as he spoke, but it wasn't a human smile. It was the smile of a wolf with its teeth bared as it circled a doe.

"You can keep screaming, and let the others come find where we are. They'll come in here, and they'll have a whole lotta fun ripping you apart. After all, you're the first one we've had here in a week." His fingers tightened around your throat as you tried to pry his arms away. His muscles rippled beneath his skin. He chuckled at your attempt to push him away. You knew that as a man of his height and stature, he wasn't even using half of his strength to keep you against the wall, and you hated him for it. "We'll all take turns stabbing at you. Nice and slow. Wait to see who can kill you. It'll be fun. We haven't had family game night in months."

"Or," His wolf grin widened "You be a good girl, shut your mouth, and let me have my fun." He removed the gloved hand from your mouth.

"Please don't kill me." You whimpered, unable to say anything more.

He laughed, but it sounded more like a growl. "Oh I won't kill you. I promise." His eyes trailed up and down your body, and once again he was a wolf, eyeing a doe. Sizing up his prey. "Usually all of the girls that wind up around here are skin and bone. Nothing fun about that." He pressed a hand against one of your breasts firmly, making you squirm from the sensation. His hand felt hot against you, your blood still running cold. "You've got all the right stuff in all the right places. I'm not going to let you go to waste, girl."

You closed your eyes, and nodded your head. Every cell in your body screamed not to let him touch you, screamed that you were making a mistake by agreeing to his proposition. Your brain fought back, screaming that you had no choice but to survive.

"What was that?" Johnny grabbed your jaw and jerked your head closer to his face. You could feel his breath on your lips. He was inches away from you.

"Do whatever you want. Just don't kill me." You tried not to sob. You wanted to keep what little dignity you had left if you had been promised that you would live a little bit longer.

If I'm going to die here anyways, I might as well get laid beforehand, right? At least that will distract me from how horrible things have been lately. You felt disgusted at yourself for the thought, but your brain does funny things when it's panicked. You couldn't even try to deny how attractive Johnny was, either. He was well-muscled. You could see the veins in his rippling forearms that controlled you with ease. His chiseled face looked strikingly handsome, despite the scars on top of it and the darkness that swam beneath his features. You squeezed your thighs together, trying to ignore the growing fire between your legs, or smother it.

He let out a laugh, and it trailed off into a throaty moan. "Oh, I'm going to have so much fun with you, babydoll. You don't even know how happy you just made me." He relaxed his grip on your throat, removing his hands from your body entirely, but you didn't dare move an inch. He could see how stiff you had gone, and started to laugh that throaty, animal laugh again. "I won't hurt you." He paused. "Well, I can't promise that one, but I'll leave you in one piece." Your gaze trailed down to his hand that hung at his side, and you could see he was gripping his knife again. A stark contrast to his promise to keep you in one piece.

"Really, I get tired of all the killing business. It gets exhausting. It gets too predictable. And I've been needing something fun like you for months." He drabbled on. "I'll take good care of you." One of his hands reached to grab at your hips, gripping your love handle. "I'll take care of every inch." His eyes devoured your hips, your thighs, and your stomach.

You felt your heart drop into your stomach. You felt heat rush to your face, embarrassed that he was already undressing you with his eyes. You had never felt so uncomfortable in your own skin. You'd always been heavier than most of the other girls your age, and you tried not to let it bother you, but it always did. You'd only ever attracted the attention of two men in your life. And even so, you'd never felt like you were beautiful to them, you still saw the way they looked at other women. All of the men you knew lusted after women who were… smaller. You squeezed your hands into fists, feeling your fingernails prick the skin of your palms. You knew you would start crying again if you didn't do something to distract yourself.

"Blushing already? I don't even know your name, and I just saved your life, after all." He teased you, leaning in to speak directly into your ear again. His breath on your skin made you shiver once more.

Saving my life. You scoffed at the thought internally. You're the reason my life was in danger in the first place.

He pressed his knife to your throat, still breathing into your ear. "Come on, doll. Tell me your name."

You hesitated and the knife pressed harder against your skin. "I'm getting bored." You could feel how sharp the blade was against your skin was and you panicked. Barely any more force and he'd draw blood.

You blurted out your name so frantically that it sounded more like a cry than a word. You closed your eyes, waiting for the searing pain of the knife to carve into you, but it never came.

He chuckled, your entire body racked with each heave of his laughter with his body was pressed so close against you. He repeated your name slowly, thoughtfully into your ear, as if he were coating his tongue with the feel of each individual letter.

"Are you ready to be a good girl for me?"

Chapter Text

You were a doe, frozen in the headlights. You couldn't move, and couldn't move your eyes away from Johnny's intense gaze. 

"Come on." He snarls, shoving your shoulder to get your attention. You gasp quietly, snapping back to your senses. "I said to walk in front of me. We're going somewhere else." 

"Where?" You blurt out without thinking. 

Johnny's lip curls into a snarl. "It doesn't matter." He shoves you away from the wall, pushing you in front of him as he moves towards the door. "Move." 

You feel your heart skip a beat as you nearly trip and fall to your knees from him shoving you so aggressively. You start to walk towards the shed, and you push the door open. 

"To the right." He grunts from behind you. Your blood freezes in your veins when you see that the house you'd just escaped is to your right. 

"Please don't take me back there." You feel yourself starting to sob, your fear overwhelming you already. You stop in your tracks, having only gone a few yards outside the shed.

"I'll take you wherever I want to. Just be quiet. Go." He starts to shove you forward by the small of your back, but you let out a pained wail, spinning around to face him instinctively. 

Pain shoots through your entire body, making your arms and legs tingle. 

"What the fuck was that about?" He snaps, still snarling. You start to cry even harder.

"I'm sorry– it just… you just–" 

He rests a hand on your shoulder, his snarl disappearing. For a moment, his face is completely devoid of any emotion. "Breathe." 

You nod, taking a deep, shuddering breath before sighing it out. You try not to let yourself think about how weird it is that he's actually attempting to help you calm down instead of riling you up even more. You take a few more breaths before you can speak again. 

"My back is hurt. I don't know how. But when you pushed me like that… it made it hurt worse." 

"Let me see." His face was made of stone as he walked behind you, and before you could protest, he lifted your shirt. You shivered, feeling his gloves brush against your skin. The open air stung whatever wound was back there. Your mind started to wander, imagining him ripping the rest of your clothes off, but you stopped your train of thoughts as quickly as you could.

"Oh shit." He muttered, and you couldn't tell if he was thrilled or alarmed by observing your wounds. 

"What?" You spun around to face him, but his face revealed nothing. 

"Just keep walking."

"Is it bad?"

"I said keep walking. "  He gestured towards you with his knife, punctuating his words. 

You start to walk again, ignoring your rising dread. You get closer to the house, but he doesn't steer you off course. You start to panic as you get close enough that you can see in the windows. 

I can't go back there. I can't. Before you can even process the thought of it, you're breaking into a sprint, booking it for the closest patch of bushes and tall grass you see. 

" Hey!" Johnny shouts from behind you, and you can hear the pounding of his boots against the dirt. 

Shit. You pump your legs harder and faster, praying you can buy yourself enough time to get an advantage against him.

He quickly overtakes you, and tackles you right as you reach the edge of the tall grass. You shriek from the pain of the impact. It makes everything in your body ache, and you can feel a pulsating pain through every part of your body.

He has you pinned to the ground, laying prone, his hips sitting on top of your lower back. You groan, your back aching from the pressure. The wound in your back ached badly enough, but suddenly there was a stabbing pain above one of your shoulders. You screamed in desperation, your entire body beginning to shake violently from shock. 

Did he just stab me? 

Your eyesight is swirling, disturbances creeping into the edge of your vision. You feel warmth and the unmistakable stickiness of blood bleeding out around your shoulder blade. You feel his hand grip a fistful of your hair, and he lifts your head off the ground. You wince from the pain that throbs in your skull, but it distracts you from the new burning pain in your shoulder. 

"You stupid bitch." He's right next to your ear again, sending chills down your spine. The knife is at your throat once more, this time, dripping with your blood. You try to stop your crying, and calm your trembling arms. 

"This is your last fucking warning." He growls, his voice dangerously low. "If you stay with me, I can keep you safe from the others. I can talk some sense into them, and keep you alive. If you don't, then it's your own fucking fault if you get ripped open or skinned alive." 

"You said you wouldn't hurt me!" You wailed pathetically, still pinned beneath his weight. 

He froze and didn't move for a few heartbeats. You wondered if your comment disarmed him, but you couldn't see his face to confirm it.

"Then fucking listen next time," He hisses into your ear, spitting your name out viciously. "Because that was just a warning. It's just a cut." He sighs, releasing his grip on your hair and letting your head fall limply to the ground. His weight disappears off of you. "Can you get up?"

You try to push yourself into a sitting position, but the tremors in your arms are still too strong for you to sit yourself upright. You let out a pitiful cry as you fall back to the ground. 

"Alright. Come on." He grabs you by your hips and pulls you upright with surprising ease. Once you've gotten your feet beneath you, he folds you over his shoulder, and lifts you up. He wraps one arm around your hips, the other hooking behind your knees. 

You watch the shed shrink away behind you as you watch yourself moving in reverse, slung over his shoulder like nothing more than a sack. You grab onto the back of his ripped t-shirt, both to steady yourself, and to give your hands something to do so you stop shaking. 

"What's it going to take for you to fucking listen to me?" He growled, and you could feel the vibrations of his words in your whole body.

"Why do you care if I fucking live or die?"

He doesn't answer. He keeps walking, and much to your chagrin, the house was getting closer. He hasn't responded. You feel your heartbeat flutter faster.

"Why do you care?" You shout. "Huh? Why? Are you that fucking desperate that you have to go after girls who are half-dead to get your dick wet? It'd be easier if you just killed me first, y'know. Then you wouldn't be so bothered by me fighting back." You would rather him kill you on the spot for being a smart ass than let him drag you back to that horrible basement. You felt the fire burning even more strongly in your chest as you walked right near the house.

"S hut. The. Fuck. Up. " Johnny tightened his grip on your hips, and nearly threw you as he aggressively repositioned your weight on his shoulder. You let out a grunt of pain.

You let out a sigh of relief once you realized he kept walking past the house, and it too began to shrink away from you. 

Maybe he'd stay true to his word. Maybe you would survive. 

Chapter Text

He kept walking with your body slung over his shoulder for maybe fifty yards past the house, and he stopped once he was under the awning of a smaller, mother-in-law style house. The hand that was wrapped around your knees disappeared, and he produced a set of keys, unlocked the door, and hauled you into the tiny house with him. 

It took your eyes a minute to adjust to the dark, but he kept walking before you could make out anything in the entry of the small house. You were carried into a bedroom, and he laid you face down on the mattress.

You couldn't tell if the bed was actually comfortable, or if you'd just been so uncomfortable for however long you'd been stuck here that the mattress felt luxurious. You let out a sigh, comforted by the softness of the bed. 

You froze when you heard keys again. You whipped your head around to see Johnny locking the door. It locked from the inside, and you wouldn't be able to get out without a key. You felt even more trapped in the small bedroom with Johnny than you had in the basement. 

You scanned the room to see if there were any windows, but to your dismay they were boarded shut from the outside, only thin slats of sunlight cut through. Otherwise, the room was dark, and there were no other pathways to escape. Shit. I'm really stuck in here.

Johnny paced to the edge of the bed, and you froze, heart beating so hard you swore he could hear it. 

You didn't look at him. You just stared at the wall in front of you. You hadn't forgotten the way he had looked at your body in the shed. And the things he'd said to you. You felt goosebumps rising again on your arms. At least you'd stopped shaking. 

"You're awful quiet now." He laughed, and it sounded like pure evil. "Where'd that fire that I saw in you earlier run off to?"

You still didn't give him the satisfaction of responding. You pursed your lips shut. After all, he told you to shut up on the way here. 

He growled your name slowly, and you felt the bed shift as he moved closer to you. "I'm talking to you."

His hand rested on the back of your thigh. You held your breath.

"I was hoping you'd have fun with me too, surely this is better than that basement, hmm?" He let out a dramatic sigh when you didn't respond. "Oh, but don't you worry. I'll be having fun either way." You didn't even have to look at him to know he was smiling that wolf's grin again. "I can't fucking wait to use you." 

His grip on your thigh tightened. His hand crept up to grab your ass, and you squirmed under his grip, trying to move away. He only grabbed at you with more force when you moved away from him. His persistence made that fire start to kindle inside of you again. Your face felt hot again.

Summoning what strength you had left, you whipped around to face him on the bed. You shoved his arms away from your body, but still couldn't find any words to say. 

"There she is." He howled triumphantly, his hands reaching to grope at your chest again. You slapped at his forearm, a stinging sensation building on your palm from the blow. You could already see the imprint of your fingers on his arms. He grunted, but didn't stop feeling you up. You tried to scoot yourself away from him, but he just kept pushing until you were backed against the wall.

You lashed out like a cornered beast, and you slapped his face as hard as you could, the impact making your shoulder ache. He grabbed your wrist immediately after the impact, blinking at you slowly, eyebrows raised. Something dark and feral sparked in his eyes. He started to laugh, but it trailed off into an excited moan

" Oh yes. Hit me. That just makes it even more fun." He pins your wrist to the wall behind you, and you try to slap him again, rage now fuelling you, but he quickly grabs your other arm and slams it against the wall too. "Fight back. It makes it even better. " He eggs you on, pushing himself closer to you, his chest pressed against yours.

You try to wriggle your arms out of his grip, but he has you pinned in place. You start to panic, and you hate that it stirs a flicker of arousal in your core. 

"Fine. I'll make it a bit easier for you." He brings both of your hands above your head, and only pins your wrists to the wall with one hand. Even when you thrash in his grip, he still keeps you pinned easily with one hand. 

You begin kicking at him, desperate to delay what you know is coming no matter what, but he just laughs at you when your foot connects with his hipbone, as if he felt nothing. He easily straddles you and sits on your lap, pinning your hips to the mattress. 

One of his hands slides beneath your shirt, and you start to panic, turning your face away from him.

You're silently thankful that his hand is still gloved as he squeezes against your bare skin, making you shiver. You knew that feeling his skin on yours would have turned you on, despite every cell in your body screaming to get him away from you. 

His breath was suddenly hot on your neck, and before you could understand what was happening, you felt his mouth against your skin, and the stinging pain of teeth sinking into your flesh.

You let out a cry of shock, but it quickly turned into a moan as he continued to grope at your chest with his hand, and he kept biting your neck, teasing your skin with his tongue.

He laughed, his mouth still firm on your neck for a few moments before he sat up. 

"What was that?" Johnny grinned triumphantly. You looked at him, heat burning in your cheeks as he spoke. You still didn't say anything. You couldn't. You tried to hold on to your dignity. You didn't want him to see you cave. 

"I know I didn't imagine that." He went back to your neck, biting even more forcefully this time. You moaned again, trying not to cry from embarrassment. He bit down even harder yet, and you pushed your wrists upwards, desperately trying to break free of his grip. His hand kept exploring your chest, firm against your skin. Involuntarily, you shivered.

"I knew you were a fucking slut." You were surprised there was no trace of blood on his teeth as he pulled back. He moved his hand off of your chest, and using his teeth, he pulled his glove off, leaving it dangling from his mouth. His scarred, calloused hand slid under your shirt. "Let me use you already."

His hand felt like electricity where his bare skin touched yours. You tried not to moan just from his touch. He found your nipples beneath your shirt, already hard, and began to tug at them, and he watched your face intently, as your facade began to crack. The stimulation made you feel like you were being struck by lightning, and it made the fire between your legs ignite all the way. You closed your eyes.

He tugged on you even harder, and you gasped, arching your chest forward as far as you could despite being pinned to the wall to try and relieve the intensity. A moan coaxed its way out of your lips as he relaxed his grip, and slapped one of your breasts.

"You're enjoying this?" He leaned in to your ear again, and you tried to move so you couldn't feel his breath against you, but you had nowhere to run. "Nasty slut." He growled into your ear. You let out a quiet whine, the name-calling only adding fuel to your already raging fire.

He adjusted his hips and rocked himself forward on your lap, and you could feel his bulge through the stiff fabric of his jeans. 

You bit your bottom lip. You were trying so hard not to cave in and start begging for his touch. It was wrong. He could kill you. If you asked him to do so, he’d probably savor it. 

He kept grinding against you through his clothes, and bit your neck again, this time more gently. Naturally, you found your hips slowly angling upwards towards him underneath his weight. He took notice of this, and his hand slid downwards, resting on your stomach.

You tried to move away from his touch on your stomach, suddenly feeling insecure, but he grabbed onto your skin, using his grip on your gut for leverage as he ground into you more forcefully. 

You whimpered, and he let out a single, short laugh. "Beg for me."

His words sent another lightning strike through your body. You steeled your gaze. You would keep your dignity. You shook your head.

He mockingly frowned at you. "You told me you would listen. Don't disappoint me." He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. 

"I'm not begging you for anything. Fuck off." 

Your words ignited a spark in Johnny. Before you could blink, his knife was drawn, the tip of it pressed against your windpipe. Your entire body seized, and you started to struggle in his grip again. His smile deepened as you squirmed in his grip, even though you couldn’t escape.

The tip of the knife dug deeper, threatening to draw your blood, its sharp edge pricking your skin's surface. 

"Beg." He commanded, pressing even harder. 

You panicked, and the instant before you felt your skin puncture, you cried out. "Please Johnny!" 

The knife’s weight vanished, but the blade was still against your skin. 

"What was that?"

You looked up into his eyes, and you knew that your own eyes were pools of terror and arousal. You couldn’t hide your emotion, you were too exhausted. He had you completely and utterly helpless. His dark eyes glinted with a spark that you could only describe as untamed . You shuddered.

"Please…" You trailed off, internally wincing at your own embarrassment. "Please… use me." 

The wolf's smile was back, and for a split second you swore you saw fangs glinting in his mouth.

"Oh I will. Don't you worry about that."

Your invitation sent him into a fervor, and suddenly he was acting more animal than human. His face slammed against yours roughly, his lips connecting with yours. You started to let out a protest, but his hand wrapped around your throat. He choked you, but this time it was gentle. It was… enjoyable to be choked by him this time around. 

You gasped softly as he made out with you forcefully, his tongue slipping into your mouth a few times. He shifted himself so he was no longer sitting on top of your hips, and before you could guess what was happening next, you felt a hand sliding under the waistband of your pants. You angled your hips up towards him, silently inviting him. 

With two fingers, he trailed up and down your slit, achingly slow, and achingly soft. You knew you were already wet, but he must not have known. When his hand connected with your wetness, he grunted in approval, still making out with you like his life depended on it.

His grip on your arms relaxed, and that hand moved down to your throat. You didn't even have the chance to adjust your sore arms before Jonny pressed more firmly into your slit, stroking the entire length of it, this time, just barely grazing your clit at the end of the motion.

You moaned into his mouth, and your moan only pushed him even further into a frenzy. He bit down on your bottom lip, which surprised you into another moan. He let out a pleased growl, and squeezed your throat again, choking you once more. He stroked your slit again, and this time at the end of the motion, he stopped, his fingers unmoving on your clit. 

You whined, and bucked your hips up and down, desperate for sensation. Johnny broke away from you, his face now flushed, too. 

"Please Johnny... Please keep–"

He pressed down on your clit with more pressure, but didn't move. You tried to keep begging, but he shushed you, the fabric of his gloved hand covering your mouth, and raised his brow at you.

"I'm using you how I want."  He snarled, and removed his hands from your most needy area. He sucked on one of his fingers slowly, and let out a sigh. "Fuck. "

He removed his hands from you entirely, and instead he was working on unbuttoning his jeans. You could see his cock already strained beneath the stiff denim. 

You just watched him in fascination, and at that moment, every warning signal to flee was silenced. He unzipped his jeans and slid them down just enough for his painfully hard erection to spring out. 

He stepped off the bed to stand beside it, and before you could react, he grabbed your hair and yanked you forward. You felt your heartbeat pick up. With his killer speed and strength, you nervously began to wonder if you'd made a mistake by practically inviting him to ravage you. You eyed his cock. It wasn't obscenely massive, but it was still longer and had more girth to it than the men you'd taken before. You'd never been that skilled at giving head. What if he gets mad because I'm not good enough?

You can't ask any questions before his cock is shoved past your lips, and he's thrust his head and the first few inches of his shaft into your mouth. Instinctively, your tongue began to swirl around his head. You could already taste his precum. Johnny lets out a low, guttural groan that makes you shiver.

"Oh fuck." He grips your hair even more tightly. You brace yourself, expecting him to force himself further into your mouth, but he just relishes in you teasing his head for a few moments. You use your hand and begin stroking the length of his shaft that hasn't found its way into your mouth yet. "Good girl." He thrusts his cock just slightly, and perhaps another inch finds its way into your mouth. 

You start stroking him and using your tongue faster, and this begins to drive Johnny mad. Groaning again, he pushes his hips forward again. At this point, your mouth is starting to feel full, and you can feel pressure against your throat. You let out your own moan, but he ignores you, and shoves his cock even further into your throat, pulling you closer to him by your hair. 

You try not to gag and try to pull away from him, your throat and your mouth stretched further than they ever have been before. He clicks his tongue at you, and uses both hands to hold your head in place.

"You're not going anywhere , doll." He snarls, and starts fucking your throat. He doesn't even give you a chance to warm up before his brutal pace begins. You cry and moan around his cock, suppressing your gag reflex as much as you can, but your eyes are watering. 

"That's it. Be a good girl." He starts to fuck your throat with even more force. "I think this is a much better use of that pretty mouth of yours."

His praises only heighten your arousal, and you reach a hand down to start rubbing your clit while you're trying as hard as you can to suck him off. You start to moan as you pleasure yourself, and Johnny watches you for a moment.

"That doesn't belong to you anymore." His voice is a warning growl. "It belongs to me." You stop moving your hand, whining around his cock. You feel drool starting to trail down your chin.

"Don't touch it." He commands, but you can't move your hand away. You draw slow circles over your clit again, moaning defiantly. " Don't. Touch. It." 

He shoves his cock as far down your throat as it can go, and pulls your head down onto his length brutally. Your nose is pressed flat against his stomach. You start gagging as he fucks your throat so deeply, but he doesn't stop. He watches you cough and struggle. You start to cry, your pleas for him to slow down muffled. Once tears are streaming down your cheeks, he finally pulls back, away from you.

You're connected by a strand of saliva for a moment as you gasp and catch your breath. He grabs your jaw and tips your chin up to look at him. "You belong to me now. I'm the only fucking person who will keep you safe here, and I'm the only one allowed to touch you." He rubs the thumb of his still gloved hand across your chin, wiping the mess away from your mouth. "Got it?" 

You shiver, and you can see the fire in his eyes is burning even hotter. His gaze slices through you to your very core. With a cold shiver, you realize for the first time how serious your situation is. You can almost detect fear beneath his black eyes, as he's silently begging you to understand the gravity of your circumstances.

You nod your head, and his grip relaxes. "Good girl." He grabs your shoulders, and pushes you backwards onto the bed again. "Now keep it up, and maybe I'll decide to be nice to you. For now."  

He crawls onto the bed as well, already pulling down at the fabric of your pants. His movements are frantic, as if he can't get them off of you fast enough. Your pants are thrown on the floor, underwear and all, and he wastes no time. 

He presses his mouth against your dripping pussy, and drags his tongue against your slit. You moan so loud that it's almost a scream, losing yourself in the warmth of his touch. He explores every inch of you, his tongue forceful against your folds. You whine and push your hips, trying to force his mouth onto your needy clit. He lets out sloppy moans as he devours you. 

Finally, after teasing you for what feels all too long, he obliges you and his tongue finds your clit. He draws a few circles around it with the tip of his tongue before he covers the whole thing with his mouth, sucking on it gently.

You come completely undone, moaning so loud that you forget how to form words. It's only sound coming from your lips, no syllables. 

He grazes your clit with his teeth a few times, and you shudder, feeling your stomach seize. You're already on the edge of an orgasm. He keeps drawing circles around your clit with his tongue, and your moans get higher and higher in pitch. Just when you feel your core tighten, and you're about to explode from an orgasm, he stops, and pulls himself backwards.

"Fuck!" You find words again very quickly without the overwhelming sensation of his mouth against your pussy. "Johnny. Please. I need it."

He growls and leans over you, his hand planted right next to your ear. "I know you do." He strokes the head of his cock up and down your slit, coating it in your wetness. 

You whimper and plead, wordlessly. You know that you sound absolutely pathetic, but you're so desperate you forget your embarrassment. 

He teases you for a moment longer before shoving his cock into you in one swift motion, fully sheathing himself inside of you with no warning. 

Without the chance to acclimate to his size, the intrusion feels painful. You cry out in pain, not prepared to stretch so far so quickly. You scratch at his chest through the fabric of his already ripped shirt. 

"Fuck. You're so fucking tight." His eyes are dangerously dark, his gaze looking like it belongs on an animal, not a man. He looks like he's gone feral. He starts to thrust slowly.

You let out a cry of pain. "Stop, Johnny, I don't know if I can–" your cry turns into a moan as he brushes against your G-spot on the backward motion of his thrust, and then he slams himself all the way in again with a grunt.

"That's it. Take it. Take it. " He moans, tossing his head back in ecstasy. He keeps thrusting at a slow pace, and you can slowly feel yourself relaxing around him with every thrust, the discomfort of his shaft becoming pleasurable instead. 

"Good fucking girl." He moans your name, and begins to pick up his speed. 

His hands start to lift your shirt, and he grabs at your stomach again, gripping your excess skin for leverage as he rails you. You feel your face flush, and you try to pull the shirt down to cover your exposed belly, but this earns you a growl from Johnny. He raises your shirt again, and you let out a whine, protesting. 

“Maybe I want to see that perfect body of yours.” His voice is throaty, and you can see sweat starting to bead on his brows. He’s coming undone, and he’s become desperate, too. You only see the glint of light reflecting off the knife’s blade before it's cutting through the fabric of your shirt. He slices your shirt clean down the middle, leaving you completely exposed beneath his massive body. You shiver at the sound of fabric ripping and the chill of air hitting your exposed stomach, which you always wanted to keep hidden.

“Stop hiding from me.” He groans, thrusting into you with more force as he grabs at your stomach again. The force of his movement has your entire body shaking from recoil. He’s set a brutally fast pace. “I told you, you’re mine.”  

One of his hands finds your clit again, and he starts drawing circles with his thumb. “Your cunt is mine,” He snarls again, baring his teeth. “Your body is mine,” He moves his gloved hand, gripping your hipbone. “You belong to me. ” He half barks, half growls the words at you.

The combination of him teasing your clit and thrusting into you with so much force pushes you closer and closer to the edge. You feel your body tighten, your core muscles contracting to a painfully tight level. 

“Please, I’m about to–” Your words end in a loud, sustained moan as you slip over the edge and orgasm without warning. You can feel your muscles flexing around Johnny’s length inside of you, but he keeps thrusting and speeds up his stroking of your clit as you orgasm. 

You feel like everything below your stomach is on fire. Everything is tingling, and the rush of endorphins from your orgasm makes your body feel relaxed, but still overly sensitive. 

“That’s a good girl. Let it all out.” He praises you, his hand moving to cradle the underneath of your head, his speed never faltering. He lifts your face towards him gently, and rests his sweaty forehead against yours. 

You’ve still not recovered from how powerful your orgasm was, and you feel yourself starting to tremble. He hasn’t slowed down, and it’s almost becoming painful as he continues to ravage you with no mercy. Every stroke of his fingers feels like lightning against your overly-sensitve clit. Your core begins to tighten again. 

“Johnny…” is all you can whine, feeling tears start to prick at your eyes. “It’s too much.” You feebly try to push his body away from yours, but he pulls himself closer to you the instant your forehead loses contact with his. 

“You can do it.” He groaned, his breath hot against your lips. “Be a good girl, and cum again for me.” He slammed his lips against yours, and it pushed you over the edge. 

Your orgasm was so strong that your ears rang, and you couldn’t hear anything for a few seconds. You took deep, gasping breaths to try and silence your obscene moans. Tingling crept into your face, and it started to go numb. You went completely limp in Johnny’s grasp, your body moving completely in unison with his still-continuing thrusts. 

“Such a good fucking girl.” He moaned your name. “Oh, you’re being so good.” His cock twitched inside of you. “You feel so fucking good.”

How long does this man last? You didn’t know if you could handle another orgasm. You were scared you’d black out. Your head was swimming, overwhelmed by chemicals and by his constant praises. 

He wrapped an arm underneath your shoulders, and lifted you off the bed, pulling your body into his chest. His thrusts became frantic, and he started to lose his rhythm. His cock twitched again. You could tell he was close. 

“I’m going to cum inside of you.” He panted heavily, and his face looked more animal than human. “Going to breed you, put you to good use.” He growled into your ear, and he let out a loud series of groans directly into your ear, making you shiver. Your core seized involuntarily at the mention of him breeding you.

He held onto you for dear life, and you could feel his arms start to shake ever so slightly as he was rocked by his orgasm. You could feel his cock twitching inside of you, and warmth spilling into you. His fingernails bit into your shoulder, and you had to stifle a cry of pain, the cut he had inflicted earlier aching as he scraped over it with his nails

He thrust into you one last time and held his full length inside of you, and with a groan escaping from both of your lips at the same time, he pulled himself out and lowered you the rest of the way onto the bed. You sigh quietly, feeling the warmth from both of your combined fluids leaking onto your skin between your legs. You sink fully into the mattress, completely spent.

“I think you’re the best I’ve ever had.” He grins, his eyes looking hazy from his afterglow. 

He stands up and collects himself, slips both of his gloves back on, and other than his hair being messy, you’d never know what he’d just done to you.

Your senses slowly return as Johnny is moving about the room, and you realize how utterly exhausted you are. You don’t even try to sit up because you know your strength would fail you. You become acutely aware of the pounding in your head and the throbbing of the wounds on your back.

“Johnny…” You mumble. 

He turns around and raises an eyebrow. 

“I don’t feel good.” You start to sob, and it’s all you can do. Your brain is so overwhelmed. You just want to close your eyes and wake up at home, and let the memories of everything that has happened to you fade, like all nightmares eventually do. "I really don't feel good." You feel tears stinging your eyes again.

“Help me.” 

You whimper before you’re wracked with sobs, unable to speak. This is the first time you’ve let yourself fully break down since you first woke up in the basement, however many days ago that had been. You hadn’t been able to afford to cry uncontrollably like this, but now, you had no choice. You can’t stop the tears, you can’t control your breathing. You wonder if your sobbing will be the thing to kill you, not a saw or a knife. 

He sits down next to you on the bed, but keeps his hands in his lap for a moment. You can tell he’s taken aback by your pleas, and you see something beneath his dark features soften, but his stoic expression only changes by a hair. 

“You’re safe.” He rests a hand on your shoulder that wasn’t wounded, and he squeezes gently. He brushes the hair that was plastered to your forehead from your sweat away, tucking it behind your ears. “You’re gonna be okay, girl.” He pursed his lips. You could tell he wanted to say more, but he was stopping himself.

Am I really going to be okay? Or is he just trying to do anything to get me to calm down?

You sobbed even harder at the thought of him lying to you. 

“Hey, now.” He whispers, cooing your name softly. He squeezes your shoulder even more tightly. “Breathe.” He locked eyes with you, and took a deep breath in, holding it for a moment, and let it out slowly. You were still weeping. “Come on.” He shook your shoulder very slowly, sliding his hand underneath you to stroke your back. “You’ve gotta breathe with me.” 

You nodded, and followed his lead, taking a few deep breaths, your breath still catching on sobs as you tried to breathe deeply. He sat there with you in silence, and breathed with you until you were no longer hyperventilating. 

You realized you were shivering, and looked down at your bare chest. “My shirt…” You mumbled, feeling like a child. 

Johnny half-chuckled, and nodded his head. “I’ll find you something else.” He squeezed your shoulder before he slowly moved his hands away from you.

He sighed, and straightened his posture, but didn’t move off the bed. “You need to rest.” 

“I don’t know if I can.” You protested weakly, still feeling like you were on the verge of panic, even though your breathing had steadied. 

“I’ll make sure no one bothers you.” He cleared his throat. “If that would make it easier.” 

You gave a weak shrug. The thought of him watching over you while you slept made your skin crawl. You still wanted to get away from him as soon as possible. You wished he could be nothing more than a one-night-stand, but your stomach twisted, knowing that you’d still have to be around him. 

“Will you at least drink something if you won’t sleep? You need your strength.” 

Why does he care if I have strength or not? You scoffed to yourself.

You nodded anyways. Now you were the one wanting to please him. He stood up, and you heard his keys jingling as he unlocked the door and left the room. The lock clicked behind him.

Funny how even when I’m like this, he thinks I’m going to try and escape.

You had hoped that being alone would bring you relief, but instead it just made you feel like your skin was crawling. Every rustle of the trees outside made your heartbeat quicken.  

He returned several minutes later, and you noticed he had several items in his arms. You hadn’t heard his footsteps, or heard him making noise in the other room. You felt unnerved by his stealth, just like you’d been unnerved by his speed and his strength. He drops everything onto a vanity in the far corner of the room. He kicks the door shut behind him, but you notice this time, he doesn’t lock it. 

He pours a glass of water from a pitcher that he’d brought back into the room with him. He comes back to the side of the bed. He helped you sit upright, just enough to help you drink. He pressed the glass to your lips, as if he didn’t trust you to be strong enough to hold the glass.

The water smelled extremely metallic, but it still looked perfectly clear. You scrunched up your nose at the smell. 

Johnny tried not to roll his eyes at you. “Just drink it.” 

You didn’t trust him, but your throat ached from screaming, and the ache begged you to oblige him. You opened your mouth, and let him pour the water into your mouth. It tasted just as metallic as it smelled, and you winced, but swallowed it anyways. 

“‘Atta girl.” He smiled at you. You tried to lay back down, but he shook his head. “Come on. You need more than that.” 

You didn’t protest. You knew he was right. You sighed as he held the glass to your lips again, and you tried not to wince at the metallic tang of the water with each swallow. It felt like it was taking you ages just to drink a single glass, but Johnny sat with you, patient, and still. The minutes crept by, and he kept coaxing you to drink more, his voice unusually quiet and soft.

Is everything here so decrepit that even the water tastes like shit?  

Johnny seemed to relax as soon as you’d swallowed the last of the water, and he let you lay back down. He seemed relieved. Too relieved. 

The hair on the back of your neck stood on end. 

“What was in that glass?”

Johnny shrugged, sitting the empty glass on the vanity. “Water.” He didn’t elaborate further.

“What else? ” You pressed, but he ignored you. You saw he’d picked up a first aid kit. “Seriously.”

He waved his hand, dismissing you. “You need to get some rest.” He started digging through the bag, ignoring your protests entirely. You felt your heartbeat quickening again.

Much to your dismay, your exhaustion grew stronger and stronger in the coming minutes. Your muscles felt incredibly heavy, even to the point that keeping your eyelids open was too much. You were quickly losing the strength to be angry, but you still managed to mumble curses at him, even with your eyes closed.

“I fucking hate you.”

You couldn’t hear him moving around the room anymore. You felt yourself start floating away. You had no way if you’d imagined it or not, but you heard his voice almost silently whisper:

“I’m sorry.”

Chapter Text

You wake up to the sound of shouting outside, and you bolt upright in bed. You swallow the instinct to scream, because you can hear voices right outside your window.

"Dammit, Johnny, don't lie to me. I could hear the two of you back at the house! You weren't exactly quiet." The unfamiliar voice yelled. You silently prayed Johnny would hold up his end of the bargain and keep you safe, if he was talking to one of the others he'd warned you about.

You looked around the room, fully taking in your surroundings for the first time. You looked down at yourself, and realized that you were wearing an unfamiliar black t-shirt. The sleeves were torn, and it was a size too big for you, hanging baggily off of your shoulders. Is this Johnny's shirt?

"And so what if I did?" Johnny shouted back, and his voice was full of rage. You went cold, imagining him talking to you like that. 

"Remember the last time you went off and did something stupid? You almost got all of us caught." The unknown voice challenged. 

"This ain't the same, and you know it." Johnny's voice was low, almost a growl. 

"Is she at least…" 

Both of the men went silent. You had no clue what looks, or silent gestures were being exchanged.

You heard an exasperated sigh from the unknown man’s voice. "You've got to be kidding me."

"And so what if she isn't?" Johnny barked back.

The hair on the back of your neck stood up. You weren't sure if you wanted to know what they were saying or not. Your gaze trailed down to your legs, and you realized that a thick

chain had been wrapped around your left ankle, padlocked shut. You tried to pry it off with your hands, and twisted your foot at every angle, but it didn't budge. You tried not to curse in frustration, making sure the men outside the window couldn't hear you.

"She's mine to deal with now, so it's my problem. Not yours. I don't care what any one of you has to say about it. Mine. " Johnny was nearly screaming.

You stared at the chain around your ankle. Whether you liked it or not, you really were his. You tried not to think about it. You picked up the chain attached to your leg, and stood up next to the bed, careful that the links of the chain didn't rattle and alert anyone that you'd stirred. 

"If it affects you, it affects the whole family." The stranger smoothly replied. "So, I suggest you solve your problem before it becomes an issue for the rest of us."

You walked over to stand a few feet away from the vanity, which was the furthest the chain would allow you to move, and looked at the state of yourself in the mirror. A giant bruise with teeth marks around the outside of it sat at the base of your neck, and it was the first thing your eyes were drawn to. You weren't surprised. Thankfully, it only hurt if you pressed down on it. You lifted your shirt, hoping to examine the state of the wounds on your back in the mirror. 

"Y'know what? Fuck you. I don't come into your life and tell you how you can and can't handle your affairs…" 

You lost focus on the shouting match happening outside as you examined yourself. The would on your lower back was obscured by a layer of gauze and medical tape. You pressed against the dressings gently, and you were happy to find that it didn't hurt nearly as bad as it had earlier. You examined your shoulder where you'd been cut, and were surprised to see the wound was sutured shut with a pristine line of stitches. Had Johnny done that? You marveled at the thought of him taking the time to meticulously care for your wounds, even though he'd inflicted one of them. 

You freeze, feeling your stomach drop into your chest as you hear the front door of the tiny house creak open, slowly. You could still hear Johnny and the stranger's voices shouting outside your window. Panic surges in your chest again. You had no idea what else was in this house, and you weren't familiar with the floor plan. You looked around the room, frantic to find anything that you could use to defend yourself, but the first aid kit on top of the vanity was too far out of your reach to see if you could find a pair of scissors or anything to use as a makeshift weapon. You heard the unmistakable rattling of keys, and the door swung open, ever so slowly. 

You were back to being a deer in the headlights when an unfamiliar man crept his way into the door frame. He was tall, and incredibly lanky. All of his clothes hung off of him loosely. He had a red mark running down one of his cheeks, nearly cutting his features in half. At first, you thought it was blood, and you shivered, but thankfully it seemed to be a scar or a birthmark as he crept closer. He was grinning at you with a smile that made Johnny's wolfish grin look serene. 

You felt your stomach seize, your heart was pounding. You weren't positive of how, but you knew you'd seen this man before. Had he been in the basement with you?  

"It's not fair." The man whined, stepping into the room fully. He locked the door behind himself without pulling his eyes away from you. "Johnny's keeping the toys to himself." Your eyes pinpoint the butterfly knife in his hand. "Not fair."

His movements are twitchy, his arms never standing still as he steps closer to you.

"Get out of here." Your voice is hoarse, hardly more than a whisper. Your throat is still aching from screaming so much recently. 

He just laughs in response, but he’s closed the distance, and now he's less than a foot away from you, towering over you. "Let me have fun." He's gesturing wildly with his knife. "It's my turn." He reaches out to grab for your throat, but you instinctively duck away from his grappling hands. "It's my turn!" He howled, and throws himself at you.

He knocks you to the floor, and you have no choice but to scream. He raises the butterfly knife. You see the light from the window glint off the blade, and then a searing pain above your collarbone. 

"Johnny! " You wail without a second thought, completely overcome with terror. " Help me! Please!"  

The man on top of you is cackling, his eyes full of glee. He roughly forces a hand underneath your shirt– Johnny's shirt–and begins groping at your chest. He lets out an excited moan, as if just touching you is the most fun he's had in years. Maybe it is. He isn't exactly as… charming… as Johnny. He keeps groping you, his bony fingers exploring your body against your will. He coats his hand in the blood from the gash above your collarbone, and smears your own blood all across your chest, his hand starts to creep lower, leaving a sticky trail of blood. You feel his fingertips slip underneath the waistband of your pants, and your panic crescendoes.  

"Johnny! Please! I need you!" You wail, trying to kick and shove your attacker off of you. 

This just makes him giggle, and his laugh sounds full of glee, almost like a child. It makes your skin crawl. Everything about this man is so unnerving and unnatural to you. He looks crazed as his hand creeps dangerously low. Every cell in your body begins to fight, you thrash even harder, and you claw at his arms, his chest, his neck–anything you can reach. You can tell your fingernails are leaving gashes on his skin, and You're silently glad that he's not getting away unharmed, either. But your clawing at him doesn't slow him down. It only seems to make him even more frenzied.

"Johnny won't help you." He taunts, and his hand slid back up to your wound. He coats his hand in your blood again, groaning. "Johnny wants to kill you. We all want to kill you." Your blood runs cold at the thought, but you can't afford to let your guard down. 

 He brings his arm back, knife blade glinting in the light again, and you can tell he’s about to slash at you once more. You instinctively raise an arm, trying to block the blade from slicing your face or your chest. You shriek again as blood sprays, dripping down onto your face and shoulders and splattering on your assailant's already crazed face. You feel blood gushing from the wound on your forearm, and your fingers begin trembling. He slashes again, and you manage to block the blade with your arm again, but the pain of the second slash is even more severe than the first. You let out a shriek of pain, your voice cracking into a sob.

"This is fun." He grins, and he pins you to the ground by your neck, raising his knife again. "Are you having fun? I'm having fun." He's howling with laughter, but his laughter is frantic, and crazed. 

You begin weeping, pleading with this stranger for your life. Surprisingly, he hesitates despite his maniacal laughing. As you sob, you cry out for Johnny once more. Why you call out for him, you do not know. Maybe it’s because his name is the only one you know. Maybe it's because you could see the flashes of concern beneath his stone-cold expression slip out every once in a while. All that you knew was Johnny was your best chance at survival. 

Your attacker’s second of hesitation was your saving grace, because before you even hear his footsteps, Johnny barged the door open with his shoulder, panting heavily. "Get the fuck away from her." He closed the gap between the two of you, and roughly shoves your attacker onto the floor with a thud. The hinges on the bedroom door were still rattling from the impact.

 Now Johnny had him pinned to the floor. Your attacker starts shrieking, still laughing nonetheless. He sounded like a hyena. The inhuman made your blood run cold again. 

You curled in on yourself, knees balled to your chest, hugging the two searing wounds tightly. You prayed neither were deep enough to make you bleed out. There was already blood trickling down your side. Every breath, you could feel the stickiness of your blood clinging to your skin, and it made your skin beneath crawl. You were going into shock again. You felt yourself shivering.

"Stay the fuck away from her." Johnny pulled an arm back, and his fist connected with your attacker's face with a loud thump. "She's mine."  

More of the awful shrieking from your attacker. You began to rock back and forth slightly, desperate for anything to soothe you and subside your shock. 

"You're selfish!" Your attacker howled. " Selfish Johnny! Selfish!"  

Johnny's fist connected with his face again, and this time you swore you heard bone crunch with the swing. “All you ever fucking do,” Johnny wraps his hands around the man’s throat, and squeezes hard. “Is get in my fucking way, and cause problems.” Johnny’s eyes are completely black, almost glazed over from his rage. He grabbed the knife from his belt, one hand still pinning the other man to the floor. You could hear your attacker sputtering, gasping for air. 

" That's enough!" The stranger's voice from outside your window boomed, and you realized he was standing in the door frame. You couldn't take in any details about him other than the off-white shirt he wore. He gripped at Johnny's shirt collar, pulling him off of the skinnier man. “What the hell would grandpa think if you killed him? What would Bubba think? We are a family , dammit!” 

Johnny froze, and didn't fight back as he was pulled away from your attacker. But his hands were balled into fists, his shoulders squared, jaw clenched. He was an inch away from attacking again. He glanced back at you, only for a brief second, and the expression on his face was the most terrifying thing you'd seen since your arrival on the property. Even in all of his violence towards you, you’d never seen an expression on a man’s face that looked so monstrous. 

"Both of you, get out." Johnny's voice was dangerously calm. He was staring at your attacker, who was coughing and gasping on the floor. 

The scrawny man stood up off the floor, and his face was bloodied, one of his eyes already swollen. You could see blood welling out of the spots you'd clawed at his neck and his shoulders, and bruises already forming around his throat. Good. He mumbled something too quiet for you to comprehend as he slunk past, and Johnny snarled in response. Before Johnny could retort, the unfamiliar voice cut in. 

"This is why I told you to handle this, Johnny." The man in the doorway sighed. 

" Get. Out." Johnny's voice boomed, nearly shaking the whole room. 

Your lanky attacker scurried out of the room, still mumbling under his breath. The other man hesitated, eyes flickering between you and Johnny both for a moment. He opened his mouth to speak, but Johnny spun around at lightning speed. 

"Whatever it is, not right now. Get out of my sight." Johnny's knife was back in his hand, and he squeezed it tightly. 

The man left, without a word. He closed and locked the door behind him. You were alone with Johnny once again.

You sat on the floor, still too dazed to move, knees pressed to your chest. 

"What the hell did that bastard do?"

You couldn't find words. You could barely move. You shifted your arm just slightly, and Johnny instantly took notice of the blood dripping from your wound. 

"Let me see." He grabbed your arm, and you winced as he pulled it away from your chest, the wound exposed to the open air.

He held a poker face, and you were glad for it. Seeing the intensity of his true expression might have sent you further into shock. You still sat, knees curled to your chest. 

"That's not all, is it?" 

You shook your head, but didn't make any movement. 

" Show me. " His voice is urgent. If it weren’t for his stoic expression, you might have mistaken his urgency for fear. 

You very slowly sat up straight, still trembling. He could already see the gash above your collarbone through your shirt, the knife had ripped the fabric. With trembling arms, you lifted your shirt so he could see the bloody handprints and smears covering your chest and trailing down your torso, dropping below the waist of your pants. It was easier than trying to explain what had happened. 

"I'm going to kill him." Johnny growled, his eyes locked onto your blood, his face completely rigid.  

You let the shirt fall, covering your body and the bloodbath beneath it. Johnny rested a hand on your leg, and for the first time, you didn't want to recoil away from his touch. 

"Did he really…" Johnny's eyes trailed to your hips, and then he snapped to your gaze, watching your response with intensity.

"No." You manage, and Johnny lets out a sigh of relief. "I think he wanted to, though." 

Johnny shook his head. "I don't think he would have." He sighed. "Sick fuck just likes to watch people squirm. He wanted to get in your head. He probably just wanted to see you scared more than anything." His voice dropped to a low growl. "I'm still going to skin that motherfucker for even touching you. " He stood up and paced the room. You didn't move.

He looked enraged as he was pacing. You could see his broad muscles rippling beneath his shirt and in his exposed arms as he balled his hands info fists. He was muttering under his breath, and you couldn't understand what he was saying. His mumbling rose into a shout, and in a flash, He punched a chest of drawers near the door and the entire structure rattled, knocking against the wall, making you flinch silently. 

"Damn it, Johnny. Get your head straight." He took a long, deep breath and sighed it out before he turned to you.

"Get up." You were frozen, still glued to the floor. "I'm talking to you, bitch. I said get up."   You can hear the anger in his voice, and you feel threatened. You recoil, shrinking in on yourself defensively once more. 

You were stupid for thinking he actually cared. He was just as harsh with you now as he had been when he'd cornered you in the shed. You felt completely frozen. You couldn't even look at him. 

"Do you want to sit and bleed on the floor like a little bitch ," he spat, and extended a hand down to your level, waiting for you to grab onto it, "Or do you want me to help you?" 

All you could do was sit and tremble, looking up at him with fearful eyes. He snarled, and turned away from you. “Then bleed out. I don’t fucking care.”

“Wait.” you almost barked, and he froze, turning towards you again. He said nothing. His expression betrayed nothing, but he extended his hand down to your level again. 

You grabbed his hand, but when you tried to stand, your legs were too shaky to support you. Johnny saw you stumble, and he grabbed you by your armpits to steady you, pulling you all the way to your feet. 

You mumbled a half-hearted thanks to him, and he walked you to the bed, sitting you upright on the edge. You tried to slump backwards, exhausted and still reeling from the attack, but Johnny pulled you back upright.

You let out an exhausted groan in protest. He turned to look at you, his black eyes narrow slits. He had produced the first aid kit again, and was rummaging through the bag, completely silent. 

He tossed a few items onto the mattress next to you, and grabbed for your wrist on the forearm that had taken the brunt of the attacks. You winced as he moved your arm, and you tried to hold it in place, starting to tremble again. 

He forces your arm closer to him, and the motion makes your arm burn even more. You stifle a cry. He examines the wound closely, pulling at your skin to see how deep it is. You jerk away from him, blood dripping onto the mattress from the sudden movement.

"This will be easier if you sit still. " He snarled, not giving you a chance to sit still like he’d asked before he pulls your arm away so it wasn't above the mattress, and then without warning, he uncapped a bottle and poured liquid over your wounds. You hear the mixture of your blood and alcohol splatter onto the hardwood floor. 

You let out a scream so loud that your voice cracked. Whatever he'd poured on your wound to clean it felt like pure acid eating at your skin. The edges of your vision start spider-webbing into darkness. 

Johnny winced slightly with you, but didn't say anything. You were starting to hyperventilate, but you paused, breathing slow and deep. You saw a smile tug at the corner of Johnny's lips for a brief moment, but it quickly retreated.

"I've gotta stitch it. I know it's gonna hurt like a bitch." He grabs your good hand, and slaps it onto his thigh. "Do whatever you need, hit me, punch me, claw my leg into ribbons, but sit still." He ripped his gloves off with his teeth. 

You take as deep of breaths as you can manage, but as he's stitching your wounds, every prick of the needle feels like a lightning bolt. Your good hand grabs at the muscles of his thigh, clenching with white knuckles to bear the pain. Johnny's face flashes with pain for a split second every time you squeeze him particularly hard, but otherwise his expression is one of complete focus. 

It feels like it takes hours, but he stitches up your arm, and then wraps your forearm in a clean bandage to make sure you don't hit your stitches against anything. The wounds were long and deep, so he didn't want to risk the stitches ripping. He repeated the same methodical steps on the gash above your collarbone. You cried out in pain and used Johnny's leg as a human stress ball the whole time, but you sat as still as you could bear. 

Johnny sighs in relief once he's done tending your wounds, and wipes the sweat off his brow. He squeezes your good hand for not even a second. "I know that wasn't easy. I'm proud of you, girl."

You're taken aback by his casual praises, but even more startled when he pulls the shirt over your head, and off of your body in one clean motion. You instinctively move your arms to cover your bare chest, but he pushes your arms away effortlessly. Johnny grabs a dry, clean rag and douses it with rubbing alcohol, and begins rubbing at the now partially-dried blood that covers your chest and your torso. 

You try not to squirm from discomfort, but he does his hardest to scrub away at every single ounce of blood off of your body. His face turns stony when he has to lower your pants slightly to get all the blood below your waist wiped away, but his touch softens, his scrubbing a little bit less intense. 

Once he's satisfied that he's wiped away enough blood and the rag is nearly entirely rust-colored, he produces his keys, and removes the padlocked chain from your leg. 

You can't ask him what he's doing before you're scooped off the bed and into his arms, but this time he's holding you bridal style. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself.

You shiver, realizing that you're still exposed, and without a shirt. He carries you out of the bedroom, and instantly turns to the right at an adjacent door. You don't have a chance to observe the layout of the rest of the house or your surroundings before you're brought into a small bathroom.

The room barely has enough space for its bathtub, toilet, and sink. Johnny sits you down on your feet, and begins to run a bath. 

He takes his own shirt off, and folds it neatly, sitting it on the edge of the sink. You try not to look at his exposed chest and abs. You feel a flush spreading across your cheeks involuntarily. You look at the floor. 

"I'll figure something else out so you don't have to wear those again after…" He's looking down at your pants and the blood staining the waistband in the front. You realize now that you can make out the outline of a bloody handprint on the crotch of them.

Fucking bastard. You feel embarrassed, even though none of it was your fault.

Johnny clears his throat. "Clean up. Take care of yourself. Whatever you need to do. I'll check on you in an hour." He pauses at the door frame before walking out. "I'm going to be right outside. Knock on the door or holler if you need anything."

You only get a glimpse of his rippling back muscles before he's out of the room, and the lock clicks shut again. You realized that this door would only unlock on your side with a key as well, and shuddered. 

Why have they put so much thought into these doors locking from the inside? You ignore your thoughts, and turn your attention to the bathtub that was still filling its way up.

You undress the rest of the way and lower yourself into the water. You let out a moan, the warm water against your skin feeling like the most blissful and luxurious spa in the entire world. You cup the hot water coming out of the faucet in your hands, and splash it over your face, sighing. You drink the fresh water from the palms of your hand, the wetness instantly soothing your aching throat. 

There's only a single, untouched bar of soap sitting on the edge of the tub for you to use, but you put it hard to work, scrubbing every inch of yourself. You lather it into your hair, taking care to scrub the blood that had caked into it until there's no trace of it left. You drain the tub and fill it again after you've finished washing yourself.

You relax back against the tub, fully spent, and just let yourself rest in the clean hot water. 

Why did Johnny come to save me? You mused to yourself. Does he actually care about me, or did he just have a deep hatred for the man that attacked me? You feel your tense muscles finally loosening from the warmth of the water. If he cares about me, he certainly doesn’t act like it. You replay the interactions you’ve had with him, and the whole time all that you can think about is how roughly he speaks to you, how cold and hateful his expression always is. Sure, he made sure that you were going to stay alive, but why? Why does he care if I live or not? Why didn’t he let me die? You cup more water in your hands, wetting your face again, and letting out a sigh, forcing yourself to relax. Your thoughts gradually slow until you’re not thinking at all, and you've dozed off.

Chapter Text

A knock on the door makes you wake up with a start, gasping. You can hear Johnny calling your name from outside the door. Has it really been an hour already? You looked around the room but there wasn't a clock. You groaned as you sat up in the tub, the water had gone lukewarm as it swirled around you.

"Can I come in?"

You feel your face flush, somehow more embarrassed at the thought of him seeing you in the bath than you had been with him ripping your clothes off earlier when he'd ravaged you.

"I'm still in the bath." You reply sheepishly.

"That's fine. Can I bring in some pants for you?"

You try not to let your muscles go stiff again. "Yeah that's… that's fine."

His keys tinkle together as the door unlocks. He sits the pants on top of his neatly folded shirt. You see that he's no longer shirtless, and he's wearing a plain white wifebeater. Seeing the entireity of his shoulders is something that still takes you aback. The white, sleeveless shirt makes his chest and his shoulders look even more broad and chiseled. You also notice that it makes the scars running along his arms look more pronounced. Your eyes trail down to the fresh scratches on his forearm that you had inflicted earlier, and then to the veins on his hands, which were incredibly prominent. You have to look away to stop yourself from staring. 

"You should get out soon. You don't want to soak for too long." He walks back towards the door. "You need to eat, too."

The mention of food instantly makes your stomach seize. When was the last time I ate? Surely, they would have had to have fed you in the basement, or you would have starved to death by now, but you had no way of placing how long ago that could've been. You'd been ignoring your hunger throughout the whole day. Hunger had been the least of your worries. 

"Let me know if you need help getting dressed." The door closed and locked behind him again, and you were alone.

You drained the tub, and toweled yourself dry. You looked at yourself in the mirror before you dressed, and winced at your own reflection, truly examining yourself for the first time since this whole ordeal had started. Your face was colorless, and your eyes looked hollow and dark, with near-black circles beneath them. You had a bruise forming along your cheekbone and your jawline, inflicted from some blow or struggle that you couldn't place in your mind. 

You looked away from your reflection, wrapped your hair in the towel and let it sit atop your head, and started getting dressed. You winced as you raised your arms above your head, pulling the shirt on. Your shoulders were incredibly stiff from your injuries. 

Johnny's shirt fit you well enough, just like the one you'd woken up wearing, despite being just a little bit baggy in the shoulders. You looked at the black sweatpants a bit dubiously. You weren't sure if your wide hips and thighs would fit in the same pants as Johnny. You slid them on slowly, and thankfully you filled them out comfortably, and they weren't too snug. If it weren't for the extra length of fabric trailing the floor around your ankles and your feet, it could have been your own pair of pants you were wearing. 

Fully dressed, you knocked on the bathroom door. You couldn't hear Johnny's footsteps approaching, but the door swung open, and there he was, keys in hand. He placed a hand in the middle of your back, and guided you back to the bedroom a few steps away without a word. A lamp in the corner of the room had been turned on, and it bathed the room in a warm, diffused, yellowy light. If it weren't for your circumstances of being here, it might have felt cozy. 

You sat down on the bed wordlessly, unable to peel your eyes away from how… handsome Johnny looked. Being able to see all of his arm and shoulder muscles had you incredibly distracted. You had flashbacks to what his muscles had felt like pressed against your body. You needed to distract yourself from getting hot in the face again.

You peered out of the cracks in the window that was closest to the bed, and could see that the sun must have just dipped below the horizon. The sky was still a light, purple-hued blue, but it was darkening quickly. You wondered how long you'd been asleep after you and Johnny's antics earlier if it was already getting dark out. 

Johnny moved to stand in front of you silently, holding a bowl and a spoon. He offers them to you, and you accept, feeling your stomach lurch in anticipation. The bowl is warm against your hands, and you look down into it to see a steaming serving of soup. 

"Thank you." You look up at him, and you sincerely mean it. 

He nods, but his jaw is tense. He's also peering out the window now, not looking at you. It's almost like he's purposefully avoiding eye contact with you. You keep looking up at him, unable to bear the tense silence.

"Can I… ask you something?" You manage to ask the question after a couple of minutes of painful silence. 

"Only if you start eating." He gives you and your untouched bowl of soup a side-eyed glance, and then keeps looking out the window. 

You pick up the spoon and stir the bowl, watching the broth swirl for a moment before you bring it to your lips. You try not to groan as the flavor coats your mouth. You can tell it's nothing special, that it's just a can of soup that's been reheated, but it's the most delightful food you've ever eaten. You forego the spoon and raise the bowl to your lips, taking a long sip of broth before you lower it, and look up at Johnny again.

"Who came in here earlier, and who were you talking to outside?" 

Johnny turned his face to look at you, but his body is still facing the window.

"My family." He replied very simply, not elaborating further. 

"So was the one who came in here your brother?"

Johnny scoffed at the question, as if it were a burden, and rolled his eyes. "Something like that, you could say." 

"You don't like him?"

"He's a part of my family." He unfolds his arms. "Liking him or not doesn't change that. You know how it is with family." 

"Was the other man your father?" You bring another spoonful of soup towards your mouth, but freeze when you see Johnny's fists clench, his forearms flexing. 

"Ask me about something different." He answered through gritted teeth, shaking his head. His lack of a response told you enough to understand that speaking about his father–whoever or wherever he was–didn't sit well with him. 

You paused to eat a little bit more of the soup, your stomach now growling and pleading you to keep eating. 

"Why are you helping me?"

He turned his body to face you, and leaned a hair closer toward you, his dark eyes cutting clean through you. "Why did you scream my name when Hitchhiker was attacking you?" 

You feel your face flush. You can't tell if his challenging response is him attempting to have witty banter, or if he's always so blunt ant callous. You weren't sure why, but you decided to give him your honest answer.

"It was the only name I knew around here. And you stitched up the cut you gave me. I figured that meant you didn't want me dead just yet." You shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. 

Johnny seemed to be mulling over your answers in his head, but you saw his jaw relax slightly.

"I gave you an honest answer, will you give me an honest answer?" You probed, and earned yourself a snarl in response. 

He sighed, eventually. "Just finish eating."

"Please."

He closed his eyes, as if he had to calculate his next response. "Ask me an easier question."

"How long have you lived here?" 

He straightened his back. "As long as I can remember."

"How many people have you–" 

You knew the question was against your better judgment to ask in the first place, but he cuts you off, stepping closer towards you.

"Don't be stupid now, doll." His voice was quiet, but it sounded like a rumble of thunder. 

"Sorry." You felt your face flush. The awkward silence returned.

"Thank you for saving me earlier. And helping me get put back together. You–"

He raises a hand, and you stop talking.

"Eat." 

You let the silence settle between the two of you again. You finish eating your bowl of soup, making sure that there's not a single drop wasted. You let Johnny take the dishes from you. He returns with a quilt from the chest of drawers next to the door–the one he'd punched earlier–and tosses it onto the bed for you. He moves to turn off the lamp but you protest.

"Scared or something?" He teases, his voice dripping with venom.

"Do you want me to sleep or not?"

He squares his shoulders and moves towards the door, leaving the lamp turned on. 

"Get some rest." He moves to walk out the door, but locks eyes with you before he leaves. "I won't be far. You're not getting away from me." 

You don't even know how to respond to him. Was that supposed to be comforting? It almost sounded like a threat . He closes the door wordlessly, and locks it. You try not to feel unsettled at being alone again. You grab the quilt and unfold it, spreading the fabric over your body more for the comfort of being covered up than anything. You lay down, trying to forget all of the things that happened to you on top of the same mattress earlier.

It doesn't take long for your exhaustion to come crashing back, even stronger on a full stomach, and you drift off to sleep.  

Your sleep is still, black, and undisturbed for a good while. And then the dreams start. Flashes of what had happened earlier, but instead this time it was Johnny on top of you. Johnny was the one slicing at you with his knife. His facial expression was scarier than anything you'd ever seen. His eyes were completely hollow and his teeth were bared in a growl. Suddenly, you looked at the room around you, and you were back in the cell you'd been locked in during your time in the basement. You were pinned to the floor, Johnny was slashing at you mercilessly. Your blood pooled around you and you could feel it seeping into a puddle beneath you. The whole time, Johnny was laughing at you, telling you to be quiet, and then punching your face and your chest, making you scream even louder.  

You woke up already sitting upright, and you were screaming. You could feel your heartbeat pounding in your ears and your chest was so tight that it hurt to take a deep breath. It felt like the room was spinning. Your scream caught in your throat and turned into a hysterical sob.

I'm not in the basement. It isn't real. I'm not in the basement. You tried to comfort yourself, but it wasn't working. 

"It isn't real." You started repeating the words to yourself out loud in between hiccuping sobs, hoping that speaking them out loud would force your brain to understand it, and calm you down.

The door to the bedroom slammed open, rattling on its hinges violently, and you screamed again, raising your arms up and turning your head away in terror.

"I'm sorry! I'll be quiet, please don't hurt me!" You could only whisper, tears stinging your eyes too much to see who had barged into your room. Was your attacker back to finish what he'd started? Or was it the man who'd told Johnny to ' take care of you' coming to do the job himself?

Footsteps crept closer to the bed and you shrieked again. "Please don't hurt me." You whispered, your arms trembling as you held them up, pleading silently with whoever had entered your room that you were innocent. 

A hand grabbed each of your wrists, and you let out a wail. Slowly, your hands were lowered to your side. You squeezed your teary eyes shut, turning your face away, unable to stop your trembling.

The hands reached for your face, and very gently turned your head to face whoever had come into your room. It was Johnny's voice that broke the silence.

"What happened?" His voice was completely void of emotion.

You flinched away from his touch, the memories of your dream still all too vivid. You tried to scoot away from him, further towards the head of the bed.

You opened your eyes and could see that his face was completely calm. His hair was no longer slicked back like it had been earlier. It was messy, and fluffy around the edges, and you could tell he had been sleeping too. 

"I was having nightmares." You answered very simply. You wanted him to leave you alone, especially after your dreams. What if my dream was a warning about him? The thought sent a shiver crawling down your spine.

Johnny nodded, lips pursed. His eyes were suddenly softer than you'd seen them before. "Believe me, girl. I know what that's like." He slowly extends a hand, and rests it on your shoulder. 

You froze at the thought. How could this man– my nightmare– be having his own nightmares? You silently looked at the hand that was resting on your shoulder

"Do you need to talk about it?" He finally prodded, after a few moments of silence. 

You didn't move, didn't say anything. What would you say? Most people didn't enjoy hearing that they were the starring actor in your nightmares. You realized that your breathing was starting to steady, but you could still feel your heartbeat and your hands were trembling violently, though.

Johnny moves to sit on the edge of the bed, and he takes both of your hands in his. He's gentle, but his grip on your hands is still firm enough that it feels like a physical anchor. You close your eyes, and breathe out deeply through your nose.

"Sometimes," Johnny pauses, as if finding the right words are hard. "I feel like talking about mine would make them easier to handle. But I don't know who I would tell about it." He continued, and you could tell that he was struggling to get to the conclusion of his thought. "So if you're like me, I wanted to offer that." 

You scoffed internally, even despite your subsiding panic attack. I am nothing like you. That's for damn sure. 

"I don't think you’d care to hear this one in particular." You worry your answer is too blunt, and you had faltered while walking the thin line between honesty and harshness. 

Johnny's lips pursed again. His grip on your hands tightened slightly. He looked into your eyes, the same uncharacteristic softness still there.

"I'm sorry." Is all he says.

You can't tell if he's apologizing that you had to endure the general distress of having such a terrifying nightmare, or if somehow, he already knew that your dream was about him. Would he really be sorry if he knew? Or would he be happy that he had more ammunition to keep me in line with whatever he has planned for me?

 You shrugged again. You wanted to talk to him, but you didn't know if you should. You didn't know if talking to him would cause you more hurt in the end. Or if maybe getting him to be fond of you might prove to be an advantage to you. You also just didn't know how to talk to him. Nearly everything you said to him was met with an abrasive response. 

"I was just making sure you were safe after… everything earlier." He mumbled, almost more to himself than to you, after your long period of silence. He slowly dropped your hands on the bed, and you saw his legs tense as he was preparing to stand.

"Wait." You grabbed his forearm gently.

He froze, but he didn't look at you, and he didn't say anything in response.

"If you can…" You felt heat rush to your cheeks, feeling pathetic for even asking it. "Would you stay?" For fuck's sake. This man is essentially holding me hostage. Why the fuck do I want him here? But you felt the ache in you heart that answered that question. It's better than being alone here. "Just until I fall asleep." You added frantically. 

Johnny must have read your thoughts, because he seemed taken aback for a moment by your request, but then his emotionless expression came back. "If you want me here." 

You nodded. You moved to lay down again, wordlessly. You pulled the quilt that you had kicked off in your panic up to your chin, curling up beneath it. Johnny shifted on the bed, moving so he could rest his back against the wall at the top of the bed while he sat upright.

You closed your eyes, and let out a deep breath. You were still exhausted. However long you'd been asleep barely made a drop in the bucket of your energy stores.

You froze as you felt a hand rest gently on your scalp. You were half expecting him to start pulling your hair, and being flirtatious with you again. You didn't move a single muscle.

His hand stayed there, unmoving for so long that it felt painful. You felt like a rabbit, hiding in plain sight out in the open, waiting to be seen by the wolf mere feet away from you. Waiting for the signal you needed to bolt. 

Slowly, he began to draw circles on your scalp with the pads of his fingers, your hair swirling around his fingertips. You let out a sigh, enjoying the relaxing sensation.

Neither of you were brave enough to say anything. You were glad you were laying on your side, face turned away from him. Your face was red, from both embarrassment and desire. Seeing him be so gentle somehow made you want him again. Made you feel… safe. However ironic that was. Does he care about me?

He kept playing with your hair in silence until your breathing slowed and deepened, and you began to drift off again. As you were starting to drift off, you could hear him begin humming ever so quietly to himself. 

The last thought you remembered before drifting all the way back to sleep quietly mumbled in the back of your mind:

Why does he care about me?

Chapter Text

You woke up to sunlight shining directly in your eyes through the cracks in the boarded-up windows. You sat up slowly. You felt better than you had when you woke in the middle of the night, but your body still ached, and you felt like the movement in your shoulders and your arms was restricted. The pain was still an ever-present ache, but your head felt clearer after a full night of sleep on a full stomach. You looked around the bedroom for a clock, a calendar, any sort of indication to figure out how much time had passed, but you found nothing of use. At least this morning, you hadn’t woken up to a chain around your ankle. 

Does that mean Johnny trusts me more now? You walk over to the first aid kit, which is still sitting on the vanity in the corner of the room. Or does he not think I’m strong enough to get away? You scoff at the thought. You were still getting out of this place and off of this horrible property, one way or another. 

It was easy to push aside your feelings from last night when you were alone. You thought critically about the situation. Johnny had taken advantage of your body, and then shown you just enough kindness to keep you from getting killed by someone else, or dying in your sleep. He’d kept you as safe as he could from the others, but if he truly cared, you thought to yourself bitterly, he would help me get the fuck away from here. 

You start rummaging through the first aid kit, hoping to find some medicine to take that would dull the aching of your shoulders and the wounds on your arm. You sigh in frustration when you don’t find any painkillers, but you find a pair of long, narrow forceps that look like they could be of use.

You turn your attention to the door. The lock is nothing special, it’s just an ordinary locking doorknob with a deadbolt above it. You snap the forceps in half, and stick the long, pointed end of the tool into the deadbolt. You’d never truly picked a lock before. You’d used the trick of sliding a card in a doorknob to open a door that was stuck before, but you knew you’d have no such luck prying a deadbolt open like that. 

You fish around meticulously with the forceps, trying to feel the pins of the lock catching against your makeshift lock pick. You had no clue if what you were doing was actually going to help you open the door or not, but you were determined to say you’d tried everything. Your intuition had kept you safe this far, and you’d hoped that it would lead you far enough to get out of the bedroom. 

You’d been fiddling with the lock for several minutes when all of a sudden, you heard the unmistakable sound of keys rattling, and the door swung open, nearly hitting you before you could jump back. You still had the broken forceps in your hand, and you instinctively moved your arm behind your back. 

Johnny raised an eyebrow at you, seeing you so close to the door. Before you had a second to convince yourself of any other solution, you charged for the door, hoping to slip through the gap between Johnny and the door. 

You weren’t even past the threshold of the bathroom door in the hallway before Johnny had a hold of you, dragging you back into the room.

“Now where do you think you’re running off to?” He growled with a smirk as he started to haul you back towards the bedroom. 

You kicked at him and yelled at him with every curse you could think of, but he kept his grip firm. Realizing you still had the broken forceps in your hand, you decided that you’d maybe be able to buy yourself enough time to run if you used them as a makeshift weapon. You stabbed the sharp end of the forceps into his bicep with as much force as you could manage. 

He let out a howl of pain, and his grip loosened on you for just a split second. You were only able to step backwards, his body still blocking the hallway. Before you could bolt again, he had grabbed hold of both of your wrists, and started forcing you to step backwards into the bedroom. You grappled with him, and wrenched your unwounded arm free of his grasp somehow. Instinctively, you jerked your arm backwards, and then let your hand explode forward with as much force as possible, balled into a fist. 

Your fist connects with his cheekbone, and he staggers for a split second, letting out a grunt of surprise. He recovers before you can wrench your other arm free of his grip, and he quickly regains control of both of your arms and shoves you the rest of the way into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. 

“You really want to put up a fight today, don’t you?” He chuckled, and his voice was cold enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Just give up already, doll. It’d save you a whole lot of trouble.” You could tell that your altercation was barely making him break a sweat, while you were fighting with every ounce of strength you possessed. You stumbled backwards again.

You regained your footing, and pushed back against him, using your body weight and your legs as leverage. He grinned. “Oh, you’re really trying today, aren’t you?” He let go of your wounded arm just for long enough that he could deliver a backhanded slap across your face. You cried out in surprise, face stinging from the impact. He’d hit the bruises on your face and it sent a dull ache through your face that settled behind your eyes. You felt butterflies dancing in your stomach, arousal involuntarily rising from his slap, and you'd only prayed that your cry of shock hadn't sounded like a moan. 

“What? You can’t handle me getting a hit in on you? You were enioying it yesterday.” He laughed. “That won’t even leave a mark.” You could already see that there was a bruise forming on his cheekbone where you’d punched him. You felt a flicker of pride in your chest, but it was short-lived. He grabbed onto both of your wrists again. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered even more strongly. 

“You know, I love seeing you fight back like this.” His eyes were dark. The wolf’s smile from the day before had returned. “Go ahead. Hit me.” He let go of your good arm. You stopped fighting him, knowing that this was some trick and it would backfire.

Johnny clicked his tongue, disappointed at your hesitation. “Oh, please ,” He mockingly moaned your name. “Hit me.” 

He’d frustrated you enough that you didn’t even think twice about it when he pleaded again, and you delivered a firm slap to his face, your hand stinging and your forearm burning from the force of the impact. 

The slap lit some sort of fire within Johnny. He broke out into cruel laughter, and pushed you hard enough that you fell to the ground onto your knees. You raised your arms instinctively to cover your face and your chest, but he hadn’t even moved to draw his knife yet. “At least try to put up a good fight, won’t you?”

“You’ve already gotten me all riled up, and it’s not even noon yet.” He jabbed at you with his words, staring down at where you sat on your knees. You were trying to stop yourself from trembling. You knew now that trying to escape was a mistake that you would pay for dearly. 

“Now, why did you think you could get away from me?” He was snarling at you, arrogant as ever about having overpowered you. 

You didn’t answer, you just clenched your jaw.

“Maybe you need a reminder,” Johnny’s dark eyes didn’t break away from yours as he closed the gap between the two of you. "That you're not getting away from me." 

"I hate you." You snarl back at him, your fear sparking into rage. 

He raises an eyebrow, and only chuckles in response. "Then I can just throw you outside and let the old man or Hitchiker finish you off. Maybe you'll get lucky and the old man will find you first. He'll make it quick." He stands so close to you now that his boots brush against your legs while you kneel on the floor. "Or if you hate me so much, I'll finish it myself."

You slide away from him. You're moving even deeper backwards into the bedroom, away from the door–which Johnny hadn't yet locked behind him. Your heart pounds so fast you can almost hear your blood moving through your ears. 

He steps forward with you as you back away. He still hasn't moved to draw his knife. It's not long before you're backed up against the wall. Terror surges in your chest, and it burns as your blood runs icy. You feel the same panic rising in your chest that you'd felt yesterday when he'd cornered you in the shed.

You felt your muscles tense before you could think out your entire plan, and using the wall behind you for leverage, you launched yourself forward at Johnny with the full force of your body weight. 

Your sudden dash was enough to catch him off guard entirely. He staggered backwards, and landed on the floor. Your momentum carried you forward, and you landed on top of his chest, earning you a pained grunt from him.

The wind was knocked from your lungs on impact, and you gasped, hesitating for a moment before you moved to stand up off of Johnny's body. You made your way for the door, as quickly as you could, a desperate laugh escaping your throat. 

Before you could even travel a full stride, hands wrapped around one of your ankles, yanking you backwards. 

"Don't run away," Johnny made his voice sound sad, mocking you. "I wanna know how it feels ." 

His words stopped you dead in your tracks, and you lost all of your momentum. You had to use your arms to catch yourself as the hardwood floor came rushing up to your face. Your wounded arm seared with pain instantly as you slammed onto the ground. The impact was hard. Harder than the impact from tackling Johnny. You saw darkness swirl at the edge of your vision. You let out a pained wail. 

The room spun as Johnny flipped you onto your back, manhandling you as if you weighed nothing. Through your spinning vision you could see that his face had that same dark and dangerous expression you'd seen earlier. Your felt a chill, his words still echoing in your mind. I want to know how it feels…

"Now that," Johnny hollered, sounding more like a wolf howling than a man "is what a real fight looks like!" He spit on your face and you winced, but you felt goosebumps rising all along your spine. The hair on your arms stood up straight. 

He lowered his face so it was inches from yours. You could feel his breath against your lips. Your heart pointed even harder. Your stomach tied itself into a painful knot. You couldn't hold back your trembling any longer. You knew you'd used the last of your strength to tackle him, and him knocking you to the floor had taken everything out of you. He pinned both of your hands to the floor, above your head. You didn't even try to fight back. You knew it was pointless. You didn't know why, but that same, disgusting, helpless arousal was building in your core again. 

"So tell me, girl. Do you hate me enough that you want me to set you loose?" He breathed, and you felt your stomach lurch. Being this close to him again … you closed your eyes. 

He grabbed your jaw with his free hand and shook your head to get your attention. Your eyes flicked open. "Tell me what you want. I'm getting impatient." He teased you, his voice almost sounding sing-song.

You felt your throat tighten. You tried to turn away, feeling heat rush to your face. His hand held your jaw firmly in place. His eyes pierced into you, dissecting every detail of your face. You knew you couldn't hide it. You knew he could see your embarrassment. You wouldn't be surprised if he could smell it in the air.

"I want you, Johnny." 

He let out a groan, and his lips slammed against yours. His tongue was in your mouth, and you moaned as you tasted him. 

" Fuck. " He mumbled into you mouth, hearing you moan.  

You felt your chest arching upwards towards him, desperate for his touch. Your arms were still pinned above your head. His taste alone was already driving you mad with desire. You pushed up into him, pressing yourself into his kiss in desperation.

" Please ." You pulled back just enough to speak, your lips still touching his. "Johnny. Please."

His lips slammed into yours again, his tongue exploring your mouth. He wrapped his fingers around your throat, and he squeezed. His choking was gentle, and it only added fuel to your fire. You squeezed your legs together, rubbing your thighs against one another, already desperate for sensation. You moaned as you felt yourself starting to feel lightheaded. He relaxed his grip on your neck and you felt the blood rush back, sending a rush of euphoria through your veins. Your moan turned into a whimper, and you kissed him back even harder, your tongue smashing against his. 

You pulled away from him, trying to catch your breath after making out with him so intensely. "I need you." You breathed, feeling another shiver spider-walk it's way down your spine. You wanted to run your hands through his hair, to run your nails along the muscles of his back, anything . You needed more of him. 

Johnny pulled his face away from yours, and you instinctively, almost magnetically arched your chest upwards towards him, desperate for him to touch you. He smirked at your display of longing. 

"You're being a good girl." He growled, leaning to whisper into your ear, this time, his teeth brushing against your ear gently. "Keep telling me exactly what you want." 

"Let me touch you." You whined, desperate. You tried to shift your arms under his grip bur your hands were still firmly planted to the floor. 

"Hmm," he mused, planting a kiss below your ear. He kept trailing his kisses downwards. Your breath is swallowed in your throat. He paused as his mouth grazed the bite mark he'd left yesterday. "I don't know if you deserve it after the way you just fought with me." He pressed his lips onto the bite mark. You tried to squirm away, the bite was still tender. "After all, you started it." 

You let out a high pitched whine. "Please. I deserve it. You said I'm being good." You felt pathetic, begging for him. You started this yesterday in the fucking shed. You wanted to spit on him, but your anger quickly faded, your arousal taking over again as he lifted your shirt, and started kissing at your chest. 

"No. You don't deserve it." He started kissing your chest more aggressively, and he gently wrapped his mouth over your nipple, starting to suck it gently. 

The stimulation sent sparks straight down to your pussy. You gasped, the pleasure making your head swim. 

" Fuck! Please… please let me touch you." You wanted to cradle his head in your hands. You wanted to pull him closer into your body, but you still couldn't move your arms under his grip. 

"I said no." He growled, pulling away from your exposed chest. 

Your desperation got the better of you. You needed him so badly that you were embarrassed. You knew your face was definitely bright red. "Fuck you, just let me touch you!" You growled, and spat at him with your words.

He latched onto one of your breasts with no warning, biting down. You cried out in shock, but you knew it sounded like a loud moan. He slapped at your other breast roughly, and you felt it sting, hot from the impact of his hand. He bit down harder, and you started to shiver.

He pulled away, and looked down at your chest, grinning. He slapped your breast again, and you whimpered like a dog. You felt like you had no control over your body or your reactions. And you hated that it turned you on.

"Whenever you look at that," he snarled "Remember what happens when you don't listen to me, doll." His eyes were still trained on your chest, and the massive bruise that was no doubt already forming.

"You don't get to touch me at all." He grinned triumphantly, and you shook your head.

" Please ." You arched your back again, and tried to wriggle our of his grip. 

" No. " He spat back. "You're acting like a bitch in heat and I'm going to treat you like one." 

All that you could manage was a pitiful whine in response. He relaxed his grip on your arms and you tried desperately to reach for him. He clicked his tongue as he saw you reaching for him, and stood up off of you, leaving you grasping at air.

He grabbed your pleading hands and pulled you upwards, trying to pull you to your feet, but your legs were too weak to hold you upright after your physical fight with him. He chuckled as he saw you struggle to stand. An arm wrapped around your waist, and the other right beneath your armpits. You felt your heartbeat flicker as his grip on you tightened, and he hauled you to your feet.

He moved you the few steps across the room to the bed, and threw you down facefirst on top of it. You let out a whine, feeling even more arousal at his display of strength. He threw you around like you were an object. The heat between your legs smoldered even more intensely.

He grabbed at your waist, pulling your hips backwards towards his. When your ass was pressed firmly against his hips, you could feel his erection through the fabric of both of your pants. He slowly ground his hips against yours, teasing you through the layers of fabric. 

"Please. I need it." You bucked your hips into him, backwards. You were desperate for any kind of sensation. You couldn't reach around to touch him, either, since your hips were being pulled backwards, and you were laying face-down on the bed.

He let out a throaty laugh, but it sounded more like an animal growling than a man. "You really are acting like a bitch in heat. Where'd that fight in you go? Hmm? Or did you realize I wasn't lyin' when I told you I always win?" He let out a groan, gripping your hips even more tightly. "Oh you know exactly how to get me riled up." 

"I'm glad you were smart enough to get out of that basement." He bent over you, and wrapped a hand in your hair, lifting your head off the bed. You couldn't help but moan. "Would've been a shame for you to go to waste. Now I get to fill you up." His breath was hot on your ear. You shivered again, and involuntarily pressed your hips against his with more pressure.  

You tried to beg him again, but it just came out as a high pitched whine whenever you tried to form words. He laughed at you, but let go of your hair. 

"You're pitiful, doll. Absolutely pitiful." He grabbed the waistband of your pants, and pulled them down with no warning. The air against your bare hips made goosebumps rise on your legs.

You slammed your hips backwards, incredibly needy for his touch. You rubbed yourself against the fabric of his jeans, whining the whole time. 

"Hush." He growled, and one of his hands rested on top of your pussy. You could tell you were already nearly dripping. "I'll take care of you."

His fingers parted your lips, and stroked the entire length of your slit. Your breath caught in your throat. Your hips pressed into his hand. You were desperate. He started drawing circles over your clit, and you let out a breathy moan.

You were desperate for more, and as he stimulated your clit you felt ripples of pleasure spread through your body. 

"I need you inside of me." You gasped with a particularly strong wave of pleasure. He clicked his tongue.

"So desperate for me to use you?"

"Yes." Your response was more whimper than word. 

He let out a low groan, and you didn't even have to see his face to know the dark, animalistic expression that had taken over his face. Every hair on your body stood on end. He slid two fingers into your pussy with no warning, and almost instantly found your G-spot. You let out a desperate moan, pushing your hips backwards so his fingers penetrated you even deeper. 

"You feel so good already." He breathed, slamming his fingers into you with even more ferocity. You shivered, pleasure tightening in your core as he continued to fuck your G-spot with his fingers. You were so worked up and desperate from your fight with him, and you felt like you were about to explode already. 

Your moans grew louder and louder and you arched your back, and you knew you were going to explode. You took in a deep breath, just about to go over the edge, and all of the sensation stopped. You let out a sob, desperate for release. 

"Please Johnny." You whimpered, trying to stop yourself from shaking.

He growled, gripping your good shoulder, pulling him back towards himself even more. "Maybe I want to feel you cum on my cock while I'm breeding you like the bitch you are." You felt the head of his cock pressing against your wet folds, and you hadn't even realized he'd pulled his jeans down yet. 

You opened your mouth to beg him to put himself inside of you, but before you could speak, he was already fully sheathed inside of you.

You weren't prepared for his entrance this time around, either. It felt even more tight and painful in doggy style than it had when he was on top of you yesterday. It felt like you were going to rip open from the sheer size of him, his cock buried deeper into you at this angle. His hands wrapped around your hips.

"It hurts!" You wailed, feeling his head brush against your cervix as he shifted only slightly. "Fuck!" You screamed as he slowly thrust in and out of you once.

You felt him grab your shoulder again, and he pulled you backwards onto his cock even deeper.

"I already know you can take me." His voice was dangerously low. "Be a good girl for me, now."

He thrust in and out again, this time with more force. You screamed again, feeling his head slam into your cervix. 

“You’re going so deep!”

"This will be easier if you just stop fighting me, doll." Again, he slams in and out of you, this time he pulls backwards slowly, before still slamming into you at full force. You stifle the sounds trying to escape your mouth, and claw at the bedsheets. 

You shift your hips upwards, hoping that the change in angle might make his cock fit more comfortably inside of you. He notices you shifting, and grabs onto your hips with both hands, guiding you until he holds you at an angle where you feel your muscles able to relax around him. You both let out a moan at the same time.

He slams onto you, deeply. You let out a moan of ecstacy, all of the discomfort gone. You can feel your body fully relaxing around his length, welcoming him in. He begins to fuck you, slowly, and he grips your hips firmly, keeping you held at just the right angle. You can feel his head gliding over your G-spot on the backwards motion of each thrust. Your eyesight is swimming from pleasure.

"Now that's much better, ain't it?" He croons, fingertips digging into your hips with more pressure. You try to form a response, but he speeds up his pace, making any words you were forming turn into moans of pleasure. 

You feel yourself approaching the edge of an orgasm very quickly as he continued to fuck you with brutal force and speed. You prop yourself up on your elbows as he fucks you, trying to keep your whole body from rocking with the impact of every thrust, and give yourself just a chance of lasting a little bit longer before you inevitably orgasmed. 

You let out a high pitched whine, reaching the point that you know you can’t contain yourself much longer. “I’m gonna cum” You moan, feeling your core  tighten, your breath catching in your throat. 

You feel your ass burn from the impact a the slap, and let out a pained yelp, the sound of the slap still echoing in your ears. You heard him groan, thrusting harder, but still keeping his speed steady. Your moans build to a crescendo and you nearly scream, feeling your stomach tighten to the point of no return. 

“Thats it.” He groans, and grabs onto your hips for more leverage. 

Your entire world explodes from pleasure, and you feel your arms starting to tremble as you try to hold yourself upright. You can still feel your muscles contracting from your orgasm, Johnny’s cock inside of you starting to feel uncomfortably large again. You try to move away from him and let yourself recover, but he holds you in place firmly, not letting you move away from his brutal pace. 

“Good girl.” He slaps your ass again, and you let out a cry, nearly collapsing onto the bed. You feel yourself very quickly reaching the point of overstimulation. He moans your name, and it makes chills run down your spine “ Fuck. You feel so fucking good.”

“It’s too sensitive!” You whine, feeling like every cell in your lower half is on fire. “Slow down,” Your breath catches in your throat as you feel his hand resting on the base of your skull. “Please!”  Your cries become frantic.

He shoves you facedown onto the bed, groaning as he keeps the same brutal speed. “I haven’t even gotten to breed you like the worthless bitch you are yet.” You let out a sob into the mattress, his words arousing you even further, but every stroke of his cock sent so much sensation through your body that you wanted to squirm out of his grip and give yourself a chance to catch your breath. 

“That’s it… be a good girl. Take it.”  He praises you as he keeps fucking you. You go completely limp in his grip, letting your body rock with the impact of every thrust. He pulls you backwards into his hips with one hand, fingertips so tight on your hipbone that you know he’s going to leave bruises in a perfect inprint of his hand. His other hand pins your head to the mattress, gripping a fistful of your hair. You feel yourself starting to drool, mouth open from your cries and moans. 

He starts to lose his rhythm, and you can tell by his frantic thrusts that he’s getting close to his own orgasm. He growls and mutters your name under his breath, and he starts thrusting faster and faster. 

He groans loudly, and you can feel his cock twitch inside of you, his warmth spilling inside of you. You moan as he sheaths himself inside of you as deep as he can manage, and holds you down on the entire length of his cock. 

“That’s a good doll. Just let me breed you.” He murmurs, moving his hand to squeeze your shoulder before he pulls out.

Both of you let out exhausted groans as you pull apart, and you can feel fluids leaking all over your thighs, warm and wet. You pant heavily, trying to catch your breath, still feeling like your lower half is on fire. Your head is swimming from overstimulation. 

“Stay there.” Johnny murmurs, and steps away, but doesn’t leave the room. You hear him come back, and then you feel a towel wiping in between your legs and on your thighs, cleaning up your shared mess.

You inhale sharply as he touches you, even the gentleness of him trying to wipe you clean sending sparks through your overly sensitive body. Once he’s finished cleaning you up, and helped you put your pants all the way back on, you drop down completely prone on the bed, before rolling over onto your back.

You let out a long, heavy sigh, and stare back at him, the entire room upside down. He looks down at you for a moment, smirking. He slowly closes the distance between you two, and plants a kiss on your forehead. 

“See how things go better for you when you just let me be in control?”

His words make you freeze, feeling indignant, but you know you can’t argue with him, and he knows it.

He chuckles, and starts to walk for the door. You feel your heart nearly leap out of your chest. You can’t stomach the idea of being alone right now. 

“Johnny,” You nearly shout, almost panicked. “Come back.” 

Chapter Text

Johnny freezes as he hears you call out to him, hand already on the doorknob. He wordlessly turns back towards you, coming back to the bed.

“What do you want, doll?” His face was blank, unreadable. His voice made you recoil, sounding completely devoid of any of the emotion he’d shown you earlier. 

You shifted on the bed, awkwardly sitting up, wincing at your stiffness and your exhaustion. The words felt heavy as lead on your tongue. He stared through you, waiting for you to finally respond.

“I… I don’t want to be alone.” You decided that telling the truth would be the easiest thing to do. No sense in hiding how you felt. It was worth saving yourself the trouble.

A smile curled at the corner of his lips, but for the most part his face stayed blank. “I thought you hated me, hmm?”

You felt yourself blushing again. I fucking hate that he makes me feel like this. “That doesn’t mean I don’t need you.” 

He sat on the bed beside you, the mattress sinking in beneath him. You felt your hand gravitate towards him. You rested your hand gently on his forearm, desperate for his touch, but too scared to let yourself be soft around him. 

He let your hand rest on his arm for a few moments, and then slowly, and with so much gentleness that you couldn’t believe this man was a killer, he grabbed your hand, and laced your fingers between his.

You looked away from him, not daring to turn your head or move your body. You would have sworn he could feel your rapid pulse as his wrist rested against yours. This shouldn’t feel good. You found yourself trying to force images of what pain his hands had inflicted on others out of your head. 

 You felt yourself slowly lean into him, your shoulder resting against his. He didn’t move for a few moments, but slowly, you could feel the pressure of him resting his head on top of yours. The warmth of his skin radiating through his shirt made you want to cry. This was the most comfortable you’d felt in days. Your eyes pricked with tears as he reached a hand across his chest, beginning to stroke at your hair. You ran your thumb along the back of his hand, feeling every vein, and every nick and scar his hands had ever bore.

Before you could stop them, tears were silently rolling down your cheeks. Your breathing changed, and Johnny pulled away, looking at you, his eyes near-black eyes swimming with concern. 

“What is it?” 

You tried not to sob, still letting tears roll down your face in silence. You couldn’t even begin to describe everything that you were feeling. The fear, the anger, the sadness, the dreadful longing for him that you had, and the guilt that gnawed away at you like a hungry animal because of it.

“Everything.” You whispered. 

He raised a hand to your face, brushing your tears away with his thumb. Your brain screamed at you that this was the same hand that had driven a knife into your back, and could do much worse.

“Go on.” He said, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

“I don’t know where to start.” It was still the truth, at least.

You sat in silence for a few moments, his hand still cradling your face. 

“I can tell you care about me.” You finally swallowed, your tears no longer burning your eyes. “Why?”

He froze, holding his breath. He closed his eyes, as if the question had inflicted physical pain. “Sometimes I get tired of…” He opened his eyes, looking down at the bandages wrapping your forearm. “Everything.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand. “It changes who you are.” 

You’re telling me. You nodded as he spoke, pressing your cheek against his face. You yawned. The altercation and the events that followed had already exhausted you. You were ready to fall asleep right there, sitting upright.

Johnny, reading your mind, slides backwards, all the way onto the bed. He pulls you with him by the hand as he lays down, and guides you to lay down on his chest, his sturdy arm wrapping underneath you, cradling you. 

You feel your heartbeat quicken. Your throat tightens. Your exhausted, terrified brain can’t handle this level of affection. You especially can’t handle it coming from Johnny, of all people. Your brain flashes back to his moments of violence. To the nightmare you’d had about him the night before. Tears well in your eyes again.

“I didn’t want to hurt you, you know...” His voice is soft, and he mumbles your name. His hand wraps itself in your hair again, twisting and pulling at strands gently. “My family y’know… they always…” He trailed off. 

You felt your jaw clench. You didn’t want to talk about these things. You just wanted his comfort. You just wanted the warmth of his body. 

“Then don’t hurt me.” Your voice was barely loud enough to be considered a whisper, and Johnny sighed in response. 

“I’m sorry.” His voice sounded heavy, and you could tell that he was carrying a lot of emotion behind the two simple words. Maybe you hadn’t imagined him saying the same words yesterday as you drifted off to sleep.

Your heart fluttered. Does this mean he really cares? 

“Just please ,” He moves his hand to squeeze your shoulder, and you crane your neck upwards to look at him, still resting on his chest. “Please start listening to me. No more games. No more fighting me.”

You open your mouth to retort, and he squeezes your shoulder even tighter, silencing you. 

“You have to start trusting me, or I can guarantee you, you will not be safe here.” 

You mulled over everything that had happened over the past day, and while you wanted to point fingers at him, accusing him of being the cause of your problems… you knew that you couldn’t fault him entirely. He had brought you to this house beore Hitchhiker or the old man could find you first. He’d saved you from certain death at Hitchhiker’s blade. He’d tended to your wounds, bathed you, fed you, ran into your room in the middle of the night when he heard you cry out, and here he was… Here he was letting you rest on his chest, even after you’d attacked him and tried to escape. He could have let you die or already killed you ten times over, and at every step of the way, he’d swooped in to save you. The realization sat like a stone on your chest.

“I’ll trust you.” You whispered, only recoiling slightly at your words. 

He hummed his approval, and bent down to kiss the top of your head. “Good girl.” 

You layed in silence, hearing his heart drum beneath your ear. You started to drift off, and you caught yourself, jerking back to wakefulness, your face red from embarrassment. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t be–”

He spoke your name, drawing your attention to his words fully. “You need to get more rest. You need your strength back.” 

You didn’t have the heart to argue with him. He pulled you against his warmth, and you wrapped your arm over his chest, halfway hugging him as you gripped at his bicep with your hand, clinging onto the comforting warmth of his skin. You sighed, feeling the most comfort you had felt in days, and felt yourself allowing yourself to relax completely. 

You let go, allowing yourself to drift off, your head rising and falling with every breath that he took. 

If anyone is going to keep me safe, it’s Johnny. 

Chapter Text

You woke up, and your feet were already on the floor. You could feel yourself bristling in terror before you could comprehend why, and then you heard the awful shrieking of a woman. Whoever she was, you could tell she was horrified, and probably in pain. You couldn't comprehend anything this woman was saying, and you weren't sure if you wanted to. Is that what I'd sounded like? You shudder, trying to repress the thought. Your heart is beating almost painfully fast.

Scanning the room quickly, you found Johnny. He was already peering through the cracks in the boarded windows, his face stony and unmoving. He was standing on the opposite side of the bed from you, and you wished he was close enough that you could just reach out and touch his arm to steady yourself. He must have sensed you staring at him, because he turned to meet your gaze.

"It woke me up too. I'll go figure out what the hell is going on." He sits on the edge of the bed and slides his boots on slowly, but he pauses, fishing something out of one of his boots, and tossing it on the bed behind him.

"If you can trust me, that means I can trust you too, right?" He stares at you over his shoulder, still moving to put his boots on.

 You nod, still unable to find any words to say. 

"This is only for you to use if someone finds you, and only if they attack you first. " He's offering the object to you, his hand extended, and your heart flutters when you realize that it's a jack knife. "It's mine again as soon as I come back, got it?" He growls, but you still don't know how to respond. 

You're frozen in fear, imagining what could possibly be prompting Johnny to give you a weapon. Is he scared for my safety? Your stomach tightens at the thought. You pray silently to yourself that the knife is only a security blanket, and that he's not banking on you needing to use it. 

You're snapped from your thoughts when the knife is pressed into your hand. Johnny squeezes your hand into a fist around the folded blade, and his grip lingers on your hand for a moment, silently telling you that he doesn't want to leave you alone.

"If you try to use that on me when I come back…" He draws his own knife, but he doesn't look at you, his eyes are locked on the bedroom door. Seeing him hold his trusty knife sends chills down your spine. "Well, I've given you enough warnings about not listening to me, haven't I?" 

You nod frantically, still too stunned to speak. You definitely don't need a reminder to listen to him anymore. Not after the events of earlier. Your chest burns. You don't know what to say to him, and the woman's shrieking grows closer and closer to the house. Do I tell him to be careful? Or is he about to silence that woman out there… you don't let yourself finish that thought. 

There's no chance to tell him goodbye, much less to tell him to stay safe. He's out the bedroom door, and you hear the locks click shut behind him.

The woman's screaming grows closer and closer to the house. You're snapped out of your frozen state long enough to realize that if whoever is terrorizing the poor woman outside makes their way into the house, it's in your best interest to hide and buy yourself some time. 

You look at the chest of drawers sitting next to the door. You try to push it, but it's too heavy for you to slide it across the floor on your own. I guess I can't keep them out. You sigh in frustration. You resign yourself to hiding on the opposite side of the drawers, and press your back against the wall, crouched as low to the floor as you can without actually sitting down. You squeeze the knife Johnny had entrusted you with tightly.

The woman's shrieks reach an all-time high, and you can hear banging on the front door of the house. The bedroom walls rattle with the impact of this woman's fists against the door. 

" I need help! Is anyone home? Please! " She bangs on the door even louder. 

At this point, Johnny must have opened the door, because the banging on the door stopped, and the woman let out a loud sob. 

"Please sir, you've got to help me there's a woman–" A shaking, sobbing breath interrupts her plea. "She's trying to kill me. Please let me inside. Please help me." 

You can hear Johnny's voice is low as he's talking to the terrified woman, but his voice is too calm and too quiet for you to understand him through the wall. 

The woman must not have been happy with his response, because she lets out a panicked wail. "No, no, please! You've got to help me!"

You hear Johnny grunt, followed by the woman's shrieking and pleading picking up again. He must be blocking her from running into the house.

"I told you," Johnny growls loud enough that you can understand him. "You ain't coming inside." 

You feel goosebumps rising along the back of your neck. Maybe you'd been incredibly lucky that Johnny had decided to spare you instead of killing you on the spot when he first found you.

You can hear the laughter of an unfamiliar woman growing closer. You hold your breath. Why is she laughing? You're suddenly more afraid of whatever unfamiliar woman is coming closer to the house than you ever had been of Johnny or Hitchhiker.

" Johnny ," the laughing woman's voice is singsong. "Thanks for making sure she didn't get away, sugar."

Your stomach seizes as you hear the voice. That meant there was another killer you had to worry about living somewhere on this property. And the way she spoke to him too… calling him sugar… 

You can't think any further before the woman's horrible shrieking reaches a fever-pitch. Her wails and cries make every hair on your body stand on end. You know without a doubt that she's pleading for her life, even though she’s barely forming intelligent words. You know with a cold certainty that you'd made the same sounds before.

Please… God. If you can hear me… take care of her. Please don't let her suffer… You couldn’t remember the last time you’d truly, fully prayed and meant it. The mysterious woman disrupts your silent prayers with a cruel laugh that chills you all the way to your bones.

The innocent woman's voice cuts off in a pained gurgle. You ball your hands into fists, and bury your face into them. You're trying not to cry, and you can't decide if it's from the fear that you're going to be next, or out of pity for the innocent woman. That could have been me. You take a deep breath, willing yourself not to cry. That would have been me, if Johnny hadn't—

"Glad to see you finally decided to be useful around here," Johnny barks, his voice cruel. "But next time, Sissy, maybe keep 'em from bleeding out on my doorstep."   

The cruel woman–Sissy, apparently–lets loose another vicious laugh. "I'm just trying to set a good example for my favorite brother." Neither of them speak. You can only imagine the expression on Johnny's face is wrought with a danger you'd be happy never to face. "The old man told me you still had a problem that needed solving." You flick the knife blade open at her words. "Let me help you, sugar." 

"I'm fine without your help." Johnny growls, and then you heard the sound of something–or someone– bumping against the wall, and feet stomping against the floor. "I never ran off doing God knows what , wasting my time, so I don't need your help."

"Oh, but you do, darlin'." You can hear the sounds of their struggles growing more intense. "Because even I know it’s cruel to keep 'em alive for too long, and I know how to finish the job." 

Johnny breaks out into a coughing fit, gasping for air. Sissy laughs cruelly. You hear more thumping and banging. 

"You bitch!" Johnny spits between coughs, but his voice sounds lower to the ground. Did he fall? "Using that hippie shit of yours on me?" He coughs again, violently.

"Oh, you know you'll be fine. I've done it to myself a million times." Sissy croons, clearing her throat, and you can hear footsteps growing closer to the door. 

"You're gonna pay for this." Johnny is overtaken by coughing and sputtering, and he almost sounds like he's choking. Your heart drums in your chest, loud and afraid. She didn’t kill him too, did she?  

You hear the lock to the bedroom click open. A bitter stench floods into the room behind her, making your eyes prickle with tears. Every muscle in your body tenses, but you don't move just yet. You can hear Sissy humming quietly to herself. From the sounds of her footsteps, her feet are bare and wet, slapping against the floor. No doubt, she's leaving a trail of the innocent woman's blood behind her. 

She rounds the corner of the dresser, and her eyes lock onto you instantly. 

"So you're the pretty little thing Johnny just can't seem to kill?" Her face and her dark dress are splattered with blood. Surely enough, her bare feet are drenched in blood too. Your eyes lock with hers, and her expression is more terrifying than anything you've ever seen on Johnny's face. "I'm not letting you get in the middle of this family any longer." 

You launch yourself forward before Sissy has the chance to attack you. You slash frantically, blade aimed near her chest, and feel a glimmer of pride in your chest when your knife meets the resistance of her exposed bicep. She lets out a groan of pain, but she slashes back in your direction with her own blade, its edge still dripping with blood from the innocent woman.

You’re able to duck out of the way just in time, and using the wall as leverage, just like you had earlier with Johnny, you spring forward, tackling Sissy to the ground. This time, the impact of landing on top of Sissy doesn’t stun you for nearly as long. You sit up, still gasping for air as you pin her to the floor with your hips. You can still hear Johnny coughing and spitting from whatever Sissy had done to him in the other room. Your heart flutters. You know if you run, she’ll catch you, and this time Johnny is in no shape to save you.

You have the tip of your knife pointed at her throat, and your hands are trembling. 

Sissy laughs cruelly at you, her eyes swimming with a hatred that made every cell in your body scream at you to run away. You knew you couldn’t though. You knew running wouldn’t work. It hadn’t worked yet. 

“Drop your knife.” You know that your voice is trembling, but you keep your blade fixed on her throat. 

“Oh, did Johnny teach you how to fight?” She mockingly pouts up at you. “I know every trick in his book, honey.”

“ Drop the knife. ” You press the tip of your knife against her throat, pressing down just hard enough to intimidate her, but not hard enough to draw blood quite yet. Just kill her. Kill her, or she’s going to kill you the instant she can. You wish that you could listen to the voice in your head, that you could just end it and guarantee your safety. But then I’d be a killer, too. 

“You’re too funny!” Sissy cackles. “Why would I do that?” She wraps a hand around your forearm, trying to push your hand away from her throat. You resist her, keeping your hand steady.

“Because I’ll kill you if you don’t.” 

Her laughter rises to a howl. “I don't believe you for a second.” 

You press the blade deep enough that it pricks her skin, and she gasps, pressing back even harder against your arm. You can see a single bead of blood welling where her collarbones meet her throat. 

“I’ll give you one minute. Go ahead and kill me.” Her eyes darken, and she stops fighting you, her arms going limp beside her. Your arms start to tremble even harder. “Really, I won’t fight back. But, you have to look me in the eyes while you do it.” 

You reach for the knife in her hand, but she jerks her hand away from your grip, brandishing the blade at your bandaged arm, less than an inch away from your skin. “I ain’t dropping it unless you kill me. The clock is ticking, sugar.” She starts humming a song under her breath.

Her eyes are unmoving, cruel and calculated as she stares up at you. She angles her head backwards, as if she’s inviting you to rip out her throat. You don’t move. You feel tears welling in your eyes. You don’t know how long you’re staring at her. You move your hand back, preparing to strike, but you see Sissy wince, and you freeze, the knife held in your hand level with your face. Is she scared, too? Her humming resumes, and you feel goosebumps rising all along your arms. 

The song she’s humming comes to an end, and you snap back to your senses, you take a deep breath, and tense your muscles. I have to end this. You close your eyes, and plunge your knife for her throat. The knife connects with the floor, and the impact jolts every bone in your arm. You gasp.

Sissy has ducked away from your knife, her shoulders turned to the side. She’s frowning at you.

“Johnny didn’t teach you well enough. You took too long.” She sighs, clicking her tongue at you. “It’s too bad. I know he wanted to keep you around, but… family first.” She’s barely finished talking before she’s throwing herself at you, her knife flying for your face. You let out a scream as you feel searing pain on your forehead, and the warmth of blood dripping down your face in a curtain, obscuring your right eye. 

You fumble, reaching for your knife, but the blade is stuck in the floorboards. Sissy weasels her way out from underneath of you, and stands up. She kicks you in the ribs, and you scream, collapsing to the floor. She plants her foot on the small of your back, and you shriek in pain, feeling your old woulds aching and threatening to split open again under your clothes. 

“That girl out there was just a warning. ” Her voice is crazed. You try to keep your breathing steady. “That was merciful compared to what you deserve for driving a wedge in this family. You can’t take Johnny away from us.” Her foot lifts off of your back, and she kicks you in the ribs again. 

You scream, your voice cracking in agony, and you call out Johnny’s name, begging him to come help you. 

“Oh, you poor thing…” She plants her foot on your back again, and you yelp in pain. “You want him to help you, but he’s the reason you’re here.”

Your fingers tighten around your knife, buried in the floor. “He saved me from you people.” You spit with as much venom as you can muster. 

“You don’t remember, do you?” She sounds incredulous, her voice full of genuine surprise. “He’s the one who dragged you onto this farm and into that basement, silly!” 

Your blood runs cold. Your knuckles are white around your knife’s handle. She’s just trying to torment me. She’s just like the others. She just wants me to let my guard down. 

“That’s why we all wish he’d be the one to take care of you. But he’s always been so stubborn, ever since he was a boy. Good thing he’s got his family to help him out.” 

You wrench the knife free of the floorboards, and without thinking or taking time to aim, you hurl it backwards at Sissy. She lets out a shriek, and her foot disappears off of your back. You squirm away, hurrying to your feet despite the stitch in your side. Every breath you suck in hurts, and you realize with dread that your ribs are probably broken. 

You see her clutching her stomach. Your knife is buried in the fabric of her dress, and you see blood pooling out around her fingers. Her face is pale, and you can see her starting to shake. You can’t tell whether it’s from shock, or rage. You lunge forward, twisting the knife before she can make a move towards you, and you yank it free, back into your grasp. 

Hot, sticky blood coats your hands. You don’t even flinch as she shrieks and curses at you, your will now set in stone. It’s me, or it’s her.  

You slash at her again, a cut forming down the length of her forearm. She grabs your wrist, her blood spilling all over you. She grapples with you, trying to wrench the knife out of your hand. She knicks one of your fingers with her own blade, but the pain pushes you further into a rage, shoving her backwards. She manages to regain her footing, but gasps, clutching at her stomach. 

“I can’t believe that you’re ready to kill me over him. He brought you here because he wanted to kill you first, you know that, don’t you?” 

“Get out or I will kill you.” You shout, your voice hoarse. You brandish your knife towards her, and she slides backwards, only by an inch. She’s scared, but she doesn’t want me to know. You feel confidence flicker in your chest. You pull your arm back, ready to strike her again. 

A figure appears in the door behind Sissy, and you freeze. Johnny is standing there, knife in one hand, clutching his ribs with the other. He’s breathing heavily, his eyes bloodshot, and tears streaming down his cheeks. Freckles of blood are splattered on his arms and his face, and your stomach drops once you realize it must have belonged to that innocent woman. 

“Sissy.” Johnny’s voice is ragged. Sissy freezes as well, her grip on her knife turning white-knuckled as Johnny’s voice cuts through the room. “You need to leave.” 

She turns to Johnny, her jaw taut, her bright eyes burning with rage. “Only if you kill that whore first.” 

Johnny raises his knife, but doesn’t move further. “ Leave .” He barks.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell her that you were the one that brought her here.” Sissy’s voice is cruel, but you can hear pain creeping into her words as she clutches her stomach. Johnny snarls at her. “You had to know she was going to find out sooner or later.” Sissy sneered back at him. 

Johnny’s arm tenses, and Sissy starts to move towards the door. 

“Just remember.” Her voice is so quiet, it’s almost a whisper. She cocks her head towards the front of the house. “She was an example of what needs to happen.” Her face is inches away from Johnny’s ear as she spits the cruel words, and then slips out of the house, almost in complete silence. “Family first.” Her voice echoes through the house, and then she’s gone.

Johnny stares at you, eyes wide as he sees all of the blood splattered on your clothes, and dripping down your arms and off of your hands. You stare back at him, only out of one eye. You’ve long since forced your right eye shut, burning from the blood that had spilled into it from the gash across your forehead. 

“Shit… You need help. I’ve got to get you out of here.” For the first time, he sounds genuinely panicked. 

You rest a hand on his bicep, wincing as you realize you’re leaving a handprint of Sissy’s blood on his skin. 

“Most of it isn’t mine.” You can’t help but grin at him. “She’s more beat up than I am.”

It takes him a moment to register what you’re saying, but slowly the panic in his eyes fades. His face is taut, and you can tell he’s still upset. “I’m okay.” You squeeze his arm, and try not to think about how bizarre it is that you’re the one comforting him.  

“I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to keep you safe.” He grasps your forearm before he turns away, retrieving the first aid kit from where it had become a near-permanent fixture on the vanity. 

He brushes his fingers along the gash on your forehead, and you try not to recoil in pain. He murmurs your name under his breath. “What else did she do to you?”

You lift your shirt with one hand, and sure enough, there are bruises forming on your ribs. “She kicked the shit out of me, but other than my face, I’ll be okay.” He takes his gloves off and brushes his hands against the bruises. You try not to scream in pain, instinctively recoiling away.

He furrows his brows, a frown painting its way across his face. “Your ribs are probably broken if it hurts that badly.” He draws his hand back. “I’m getting you to a hospital the instant it is safe.” 

You somehow feel your heart start to ache in your chest. “Are you coming with me?” 

His lips form a thin line, and you already know his answer before he speaks. “Only if I can get away without the others noticing. But after today…” he runs a hand through his hair. “That’s going to be difficult.” He grabs your hand, and leads you to the bathroom. “Let's clean this up, and then I’ll figure out how to get you out of here.” Your heart lurches at the thought, but your brain is still giddy with excitement at the thought of freedom. The thought of going back to your job makes you want to dance with joy for the first time in your life. Finally, your normal, boring life sounds incredible again.

He brings you to the sink in the bathroom, and guides your head under the faucet. Your heart is racing. You don’t know where the question came from so suddenly, but you blurt it out anyways. Maybe you needed closure, now that the prospect of leaving was truly on the table.

“She said you brought me to the farm.” Johnny freezes, inches away from turning the water on. “Is that true?”

He sighs, and turns the water on. You wince as the cold water streams over your face, shocking your senses. You squeeze your eyes shut. You try to stand upright, but he grips onto your hair, holding your forehead under the stream of water. The water feels like ice stabbing into your skull, your wound throbbing in pain. You scream Johnny’s name, both in pain, and in frustration that he won’t answer your question. 

“Talk to me!” You shout at him, and his grip tightens on your hair, but he doesn’t move in any other way that indicates aggression towards you. Your grip tightens around the knife he’d given you, almost instinctively, and for the first time, you recognize that it’s still in your clenched fist. I could kill him. I could… but… do I want to?

“Now is not the time.” He growls. His free hand rests on your cheek on the right side of your face, delicately. “You need to rinse your eye out.” You try to open your eye under the stream of water, but flinch every time the water hits your eye. “Hey. Easy now.” He murmurs, softer than you’ve ever heard him speak to you, and your heart flutters. 

He helps hold your eye open for long enough to rinse all of the blood off of your face and out of your eye. You blink slowly as you stand upright, the room swimming. He grabs your wrist gently, leading you back to the bedroom.  

You lay down on the bed, and finally relax your grip on the knife, folding the blade and tossing it to Johnny. The entire thing is still caked in blood. He freezes in his tracks. “What in the…” He trails off, looking at the bloody offering before him on the sheets.

“I told you I trusted you, and that means you can trust me too.” 

His jaw tightens. He doesn’t move to pick up the knife.

“You saved my life.” You shrug. “And you’re back, so it’s yours again.” 

“From the shape Sissy is in,” He finally chuckled, a smile forcing his lips to curl upwards slightly. “I’d say you saved your own life.”

“I couldn’t have done all of that without a knife.” You smirk at him, and he leans down to brush a strand of wet hair off of your forehead. You felt the butterflies in your stomach jump at his touch. You rested a hand on his shoulder, and pulled him lower, closer to the bed. 

You close the gap between the two of you, and plant a firm kiss on his lips. You try to pull him even closer to you, hungry for the feeling of safety that came from his body being pressed against yours. He kissed you back, matching your pressure for only a few seconds before he pulled away from you. You breathed his name, almost moaning as he separated himself from you.

You could see the flush spreading across his cheeks. Had you actually made him flustered for once? 

“I need to make sure you’re okay first.” He cleared his throat, and without another word, he got to work tending the wound on your forehead. 

The entire time he worked, you still felt Sissy’s words echoing in your head. He’s the one who dragged you onto this farm and into that basement, silly!

Your blood went cold at the thought, but as you watched his face, a picture of pure focus whilst he so tenderly and so gently tended to your wounds, you weren’t sure if you could let yourself believe her. He was speaking to you softly, every time you winced, reassuring you that you were okay, that you were doing so good and to just sit still. 

You closed your eyes. You could get answers later.