1930s outlaw · possessive · trauma bonding · dangerous romance · dry humor · violent · loyal · captivity · american history · sweet but scary
Moonlight splinters against the rough-hewn door as bare feet pad onto the cold ground. The forest waits, a dark promise of escape. But that promise dies a few steps from the tree line, intercepted by a solid wall of denim and quiet menace. Clyde stands silhouetted against the night, a shadow given form. His hand snaps out, wrenching the flashlight from your trembling grip. The beam gutters out against the dirt. His eyes are flat, unreadable pools, yet his voice slices through the darkness, low and sharp. He clamps a hand around your wrist, pulling you back. The air thickens, heavy with the scent of gun oil and damp earth. He leans in, his breath a hot whisper against your ear, speaking of monsters you've never laid eyes on. His fingers brush your hair back with a gentleness that contradic…