When you were young, you got lost in the woods after an accident. No one believed you when you said that you met a little boy who found you and helped you. That was years ago now, and you don't really know what you're trying to prove, but you go back into those same woods.
It isn't long before you realize that you're not alone.
[content warning: implied murder and scene of a physical assault]
When you were young, maybe ten years old, you wandered away from a car accident just off a long stretch of road in the middle of nowhere. It had been raining pretty hard and it was dark. You got yourself lost in the woods. You were a little banged up and your head hurt. Your thoughts were scattered and you felt dizzy as you kept moving, not knowing where you were trying to go.
Alone, cold and scared, you froze when you saw a glow from behind the trees. A small boy with an old-looking kerosene lantern came into view, and you didn't know if you were relieved to see someone or frozen at the sight of this little kid all on his own in the woods.
He couldn't've been older than seven, maybe eight, but he was smaller than you. But unlike you, there wasn't a hint of fear on his face.
"Are you lost?" he wondered, and through tears, you nodded, sobbing that you were and that you were hurt. Holding the lantern closer, he saw your injuries and an empathetic sadness spread across his face.
"It's okay... Come on to my house." He offered, but he was already holding your hand to pull you along after him. He led you through the dark, winding woods, and you wondered to yourself how he knew where he was going. But he must have, he finally stopped on a little clearing in the trees with a small cabin.
Despite being so little, he got a fire going all on his own.
"Papa's out huntin', but he'll be back in... three more sunrises." He said matter-of-factly, like it was completely normal. You asked him about his mom.
"Mama's been gone a long, long time." He told you, making sure the fire would keep burning. He went to the cabinet under the sink, grabbing some stuff. He helped clean up your scratches, and put a clean cloth to your forehead. You hadn't known you'd been bleeding.
He didn't look worried at all about being alone, and he seemed used to it, if him cooking you a simple meal on his own was anything to go on.
He looked at you with big eyes as the two of you ate and he asked you so many questions. About everything.
"Do you have any pets? Papa has a dog. Her name is Missy, but she's not very nice. She's out hunting too, but I can't go. Papa says I gotta be the man of the house when he goes out."
"Do you go to school? Papa teaches me stuff, I learn all about all kinds of things!"
"Papa and Missy are all my family. What's your family like?"
At that, you started to sob again, and you weren't sure why. He looked so guilty for making you upset, but you couldn't make yourself stop. He let you sleep in his room, and when he crawled into the bed next to you, He let you hold his stuffed rabbit.
As you slept, the boy thought to himself that it was pretty sad that you were all alone. But as he listened to your soft breathing, he told himself that if no one wanted you, he could keep you. You could be his and he could take care of you. He didn't like to admit he felt lonely, and his papa could be pretty mean and not talk to him sometimes, but maybe he would like you as much as he did? And then no matter what happened, he'd always have you.
He fell asleep holding your hand, wondering if you would stay with him forever.
The next thing you remembered was coming to in a hospital. You hadn't been able to hold onto what you'd seen in the crash, but that was when you learned your family hadn't survived it. You cried for so long and so hard that the nurses had to make the police leave and wait to come back in.
They told you that you'd been found alone in a ditch by part of the search team days later, near frozen with a nasty head wound, no little boy in sight. At the time you'd insisted he'd been real and he was out there, but no one ever found him, or any sign anyone had lived anywhere close in a long while. You weren't sure if you had imagined him with your head injury and your grief, and when you were younger you'd insisted to every police officer, social worker and foster family that he'd been real.
But if he'd told you his name, you couldn't remember... So much of that time was all one, uncertain blur.
Your therapist said visiting the sight of the crash might finally help you get some closure. Someone had put up a little cross with plastic flowers in the many years since then, the sight of it made your chest tight. But worse, you kept staring at those woods, telling yourself that it... didn't happen. That he hadn't been real. That you'd just imagined a kind little boy who probably saved your life, that the thought of him had comforted you through the most traumatic event of your life.
You'd just lost your family and your mind had conjured up someone who'd cared for you, and that was all.
But you still went into the trees, unsure if you wanted to find anyone or if you just needed... something. Closure? Proof? A sign? Whatever it could be, you kept walking, trying to retrace your steps from that day. You knew it was damn near impossible, it'd been raining and dark and you'd been concussed and traumatized, but your body kept moving.
It was crazy, and you felt crazy, but he'd never left your mind. The memory of that little boy had carried you through the roughest moments of your life, even after you started to believe he'd been just a figment of your imagination. So it was irresponsible and naive and so many different kinds of dangerous to be wandering the woods alone, the sun going down and temperatures dropping fast. You were armed with little more than a flashlight and a pocket knife you normally used to open packages. And a phone with no signal.
Before long, even your thick coat wasn't enough to keep the chill away, and you wished you'd worn better shoes.
You focused on the sound of your breathing, watching the trailing white puffs hit the air and disappear.
Once.
Twice.
Over and over.
Then.
You heard it.
Someone else's breathing.
You watched your body language, trying not to make it obvious you'd heard anything. Your pace got a little faster, but not an outright run, not yet.
It had a hint of a low pitch behind it if you focused. A man? Footsteps, but not constant. He was trying to stay quiet. You started going a little faster, and he picked up the pace. You needed to run.
You tried to get away, made random turns and grabbing tree trunks to make sudden loops in new directions. You couldn't turn off your flashlight or you'd be running blind, but it was giving you away. You could hear him now, breathing heavy, in your terror it almost sounded like a low growl getting closer and closer.
A hard slam into your back knocked you to the forest floor, and the two of you crashed into a burst of fallen leaves and frantic cries, hands grabbing for any purchase as you tried to rip away from him. His hand grabbed your face, covering your mouth before you could scream. He pressed a hand to your shoulder, pinning you on your back down in the dirt.
"Don't struggle." A low, terrifying voice advised, empty eyes staring into yours. "You'll only make things worse."
For a single, horrifying moment, you truely believed you were going to die.
. . .
But it never came.
"… Is… that you?"
You didn't want to open your eyes, still thinking this was it, but when he took his hand off your mouth… Instead of screaming, you managed to just breathe again. That look in his eyes was gone, replaced by a look that stopped you in your tracks.
The emptiness had been replaced by this… warmth, paired with a bright, gentle smile that met his eyes. Why was he looking at you like that?
"It's been so long, I really thought…" The man pulled you close to him, squeezing too tight. He was… hugging you? Why was he hugging you? "I thought he… But it's you! You're okay..."
You pushed back against the stranger, and he saw the confusion and mistrust in your eyes, still reeling from, you know, being tackled and pinned by a grown man in the woods at night.
"I just…" he seemed… ashamed? "I heard someone out here, but I never coulda imagined it would be you. I just… "
He was still looking at you with that same warmth. It felt… why did it feel… familiar?
"I just… can't believe you came back to me."
Then, despite it all, you saw it.
He had the same soft brown curls and sweet smile, but that was all that was familiar. He was tall, broad shoulders and a two week-old beard. If you weren't sure it was him, you'd be terrified. But all you felt was... you weren't sure.
You felt happy, vindicated, warm. But you started crying, just ugly bawling where you couldn't catch your breath.
It was him.
Kurt. For the first time in years, you could remember his name. How could you have forgotten?
You called out to him, your voice breaking, and he laughed softly.
"Hey now... " He gingerly touched your face, like he was scared to break you, but you pressed yourself to him, holding on tight. He held on even tighter, resting his head on top of yours.
"I told myself that you'd come back to me..." He sighed. "But you kept me waitin' a long time..."
His voice was deep and rough, but the warmth behind it made you feel... safe again. For the first time in years.
You knew you hadn't made him up. That little boy who'd found you and gave you something to hang onto was safe and all grown up.
You hit him with so much that'd been building up inside you the second you could catch your breath.
That you'd never forgotten him.
That you were glad he was safe, no longer that little boy on his own in the middle of the woods.
That you had missed him.
"I missed you too… " He held you tighter, and you let yourself feel… safe.
But something nagged at you.
You felt a surge of something that made you feel a bit unsteady again. You pulled back a bit, pushing against his chest to see his face. He blinked.
"What's wrong?" He flashed a soft smile, confused, but still not letting go.
You asked him why the hell had he chased you? Pinned you down? You asked him why he hadn't… called out? Made himself known? Was he trying to scare you off?
He paused, his smile unfaltering.
"Ah… sorry about all that." He held his hands up, an embarrassed smile on his face. "My place isn't far from here, and this here's my neighbor's property. I saw your flashlight and thought someone was skulkin' around while he's out on a huntin' trip up north. I was just tryin' to scare some trespasser, but…"
He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
"I found you instead, hun."
That hit you dead center, practically knocking the wind out of you. For years, you remembered him as that sweet little boy, but of course he'd grown up, just as you had. So it was hard to reconcile the idea that he'd grown into this tall, lumberjack-looking, sweet talker of a man.
It just wasn't fair, the way he was looking at you. He made your face feel like it was on fire.
"I really did a number with all that, didn't I?" He picked a leaf out of your hair, brushing dirt off your shoulder. You froze, finding yourself hyperaware of his touch. "What're you doin' out here in the middle of the night anyway?"
It was a long story, you said with a sigh.
"At any rate, we should get back to the cabin." He held out a hand. You took it without a second thought and he started to lead you through the trees.
"And I'd turn off that flashlight." He noted with a frown. "Never know what's wanderin' around out here.
With anyone else, you would've felt uneasy about what was practically a stranger leading you in the dark. But as crazy as it sounded, you trusted him. You always had. His rough, weathered palm held tight to your own as you kept close, so much on your mind.
What had his life been like for the last fifteen years? What kept him in the same woods you met him in? Had he grown up happy and loved? All things you'd wondered as you'd grown up on your own, thinking about that lonely little boy.
He'd never forgotten that day when he'd found the crying, injured little thing in the woods. He was young then, he didn't understand anything. It was before his father taught him how the world really worked.
When he was small and helpless, he couldn't stop his father from taking you away from him. You'd been with him in that cabin for three days. The two of you ate together, you slept in his bed with him, and he showed you how to start a fire. You'd seemed so surprised about how he could do so much on his own. He wanted to ask you so much about what it was like to grow up outside the forest, but if he asked you about your family, you would get this faraway look in your eyes and start crying again.
He never knew what to do when you cried. His father never let him cry. So when you curled up into yourself, weeping because of something he'd asked, it made him feel so helpless. When he came too close, you would grab him and hold on tight, and while he still felt confused, he held you right back.
His father came back on the third sunrise, just like he'd said.
He took one look at you and he'd gotten so… angry.
"Junior." he said in the tone that let Kurt know he'd done the wrong thing. "Look at me."
He grabbed his son by the arm, forcing the boy to face him. He wasn't loud, he didn't yell, but his voice used to make Kurt feel this intense fear that stabbed at his insides. The grip he had on him was starting to hurt, but he knew what would happen if he tried to pull away, even as young as he was.
That someone would be looking for a kid.
He was furious with what he'd done. He told his son that he knew that he was never supposed to bring anyone back to the cabin. If he saw someone, he was supposed to hide and tell his father.
He said what Kurt had done was stupid, reckless.
If they came looking, they would find the bodies.
He grabbed you, and you fought him, screaming. One hit with the butt of his rifle and you went down hard. Kurt yelled and cried and begged him to give you back, that you were his. But his father just grabbed him again and squeezed tight, the pain shooting up his arm. The look his father gave him when he cried in pain… disgusted with him, telling him that he was soft like his mother.
"Did you tell them your name?"
The biggest rule he was never to break. He wasn't supposed to talk to outsiders, he wasn't supposed to let them follow him back, and he was NEVER to tell them his name.
If he did, his father would kill you like everyone else he hunted in those woods.
"Junior, answer me now."
"No, I did not, sir." He lied, making sure the pain in his arm didn't make him cry again.
He had his hunting dog Missy guard him while he took you away. He'd already been gone for days, and food ran out quickly. It was all to punish him for betraying his father. He couldn't ask him whether he'd killed you or not, but he didn't keep any of your things, and he didn't wait a long time to hunt again like he did after he killed someone.
He never saw you again, until now.
You were older, of course, but you were still weak. Scared. You needed to be protected. Seeing you again made him feel something… he wasn't sure what exactly it was.
But his father was gone now. That man took his mother from him, then he took you away. He held onto his loss and rage until he was stronger than him. He thought his son was beaten down, scared into loyalty, that he would keep making himself useful to his father.
Keep helping him kill anyone he chose to. That he needed to.
So he never saw his axe coming.
No one was left who could take away what was his.
He squeezed your hand tighter as he led you to the cabin. He knew your eyes wouldn't've adjusted to the dark yet, so when he felt you lean on him and cling to his side, it made him feel... excited.
He was glad that he hadn't hunted in a while, there wouldn't be any mess to clean up so you didn't get scared. His father used to tell him that one day he would need to choose from his prey and start a family to carry on what he'd taught Kurt. That he needed to keep up the family tradition.
There was a part of him that wanted to stop after his father was gone, but he… couldn't. There was something in him, deep down, that made him just like him. He wasn't cold and angry like his father was and he didn't want to hurt anyone, but he still…
Had to.
You would've been dead too if he hadn't seen it was you he'd hunted.
He'd already thought he'd lost you once. The warmth of your hand in his made him feel… Complete. Like that empty place inside that gnawed away at him from time to time was finally full.
He could finally keep you, like he'd always wanted.
Today was just the start of the rest of your lives together.
reader might have a bit of indirect transference with our boy here, they conflate the pain of losing their family with meeting him and held onto the memory of him in their grief and lonliness, and now it's all come flooding back
Kurt is just so jazzed that you're alive and he found you! he gets his best (and only) friend back! yaaayy!
given the gender-neutral nature of the reader, his dad probably didn't mean for Junior to pick this particular prey for making a family and keeping up the "family tradition", but Junior never was very good at following directions, like he didn't think he ever had to say "don't kill me specifically, son". that one was probably pretty important, pops
currently unsure of the relationship between Kurt's mom and dad. was it more or less consensual? was she aware of the killing? did he kill her or did she just pass? dad never told Kurt, talking's not his strong suit, and im not sure how young he was when she passed either. so that's up in the air for now
just a line of killers raising killers in isolation, a mix of raising them to believe that their urges are normal and not knowing any other way of living.
Kurt's name was proposed by @spiderfly-tree-rat on the discord, and it fit so well that nothing else would do. I didn't want him to just be Junior, even if he is a Jr., technically, but when you're thinkin up yandere names for fictional guys people might be into, Junior by itself isn't the name you think people will be messaging you like "Junior!! that's my wife lol, that's my stabby little golden retriever husband" it's just not the vibe lol
plus, no one calls him Junior anymore, literally, since Senior got axed
i can see future parts to this one being written if people are into Kurt, but nothing is written up as of now. it's currently a blank slate, but i can see great potential with him going full yandere on his hun
also, optional, but in his brain, i think the full beloved's nickname is "hunny bunny", it's a bit too "bunny being chased through the woods by the wolf" fic vibe, but you know what, it's canon now. i typed it out and talked myself into it. he calls the reader hun, but in his brain it's the full thing. Kurt means wolf anyway and im leaning into the cringe element, fight me lol
honestly, i just thought it would sound nice in the possible slight accent im giving him with the present participles ending in apostrophes, plus i love hun, hun is cute)
header is edited from the manga Solo Camping for Two, p much because of the woodsy setting and the main character having a beard lol, it's a cute manga, but the main girl makes a terrible, anime-esque first impression in chapter 1 and the fanservice is a bit gratuitous early on, but i love specific interest manga
#cats of tumblr
#lana del rey
