#Once upon a time one shot

[multifandomfix]

I Never Promised You A Rose Garden — Regina Mills

Summary: You’ve always loved Regina, but her actions as the Evil Queen finally become too much to bear. Will she see the error of her ways in time or will it be too late to make her amends?

Word Count: 1,377

Warnings: Angst, grief, no happy ending

You’ve always loved Regina.

You were there before Daniel, before the eventual heartbreak that followed in the wake of his death, before she became the Evil Queen. From the moment you met her, you knew she was special. She was kind, passionate, and full of life. When she fell in love with Daniel, you saw her happiness and swallowed your own pain, choosing instead to support her.

You remembered the first time you saw her with him. The way her eyes sparkled and her laugh rang out, pure and unrestrained. It was a beautiful sight, even if it broke your heart. "He's everything to me," she had confided to you one day, her smile brighter than the sun. You nodded, forcing a smile and hiding the turmoil inside you. You told her you were happy for her. In part, at least, you were.

When Cora killed Daniel, you were the one who held Regina, comforting her through her grief. "I can't go on without him," she had sobbed, clinging to you like a lifeline. You wanted to whisk her way and protect her from the world’s cruelty then, but before you’d had a chance, Leopold came with his proposal, and she was drawn into a grander life that you couldn’t follow her into. "I have to do this," she'd said to you, mere days before she was to depart, and this time it not only broke your heart, but hers. Cora had made this decision for her, and no matter what you said, you knew her fate was sealed.

When Leopold died, Regina found you again, asking you to be an adviser in her court. It wasn’t an offer you could refuse, not that you had wanted to. You were happy to be by her side once more, even though something felt different. In private, she was still your Regina, soft and caring, especially with you and her father, Henry. But around others, she had become the Evil Queen, cold and ruthless. It was a dissonance you struggled to reconcile.

"Why are you doing this?" you asked her one night, after a particularly harsh punishment to one of her guards.

"Because I have to be strong," she replied, looking away. You thought to argue that there were other ways she could be seen as such, but you could tell by her demeanor that she would hear none of it.

You, along with Henry, tried to dissuade her from casting the curse you both knew was coming, but again, she wouldn’t listen. "This isn't the answer, Regina," you pleaded. "You can't build your happiness on others' misery."

She looked at you, eyes hard. "Happiness is a lie," she snapped. "Revenge is all I have left."

Watching the woman you so ardently adored become this cold, unloving and merciless queen had hurt you more than you imagined. You debated leaving more than once, but your devotion to her and the person she’d been stopped you each and every time. You still thought you could get through to her.

However, her sacrificing her father to enact her dark curse was the breaking point. You couldn’t hold back any longer. "Regina, stop!" you shouted, rushing to her side. "I can't let you do this."

She turned to you, eyes cold. "You don't get to tell me what to do," she said. "Not anymore." You could tell the last part wasn’t meant for you specifically, but Regina was so lost in her own hatred, she wasn’t being rational.

"This isn't you," you cried, tears streaming down your face. "I don't recognize you anymore. What happened to the woman I loved?"

Regina's eyes widened in shock. "Loved?" she repeated, incredulous. "You... loved me?" For a moment, you glimpsed the Regina you used to know.

"Yes," you said, voice trembling. "I've loved you all these years. Even when it hurt, even when you pushed me away."

And just like that it was gone, that lightness in her eyes darkened once more and Regina snapped, refusing to believe you. To her, the only happiness was making Snow White suffer. Your confession was seen as a weakness, an obstacle in her path to revenge. "You're lying," she spat. "You're trying to weaken me, to stop me from getting what I deserve."

"No, Regina, please," you begged. "I'm telling the truth. I love you."

But it was too late. She had her guards seize you, and you were left to watch as she prepared to cast the curse. "Get out," she ordered, voice breaking slightly. "And don't come back."

It was too late for Regina to turn back. "I can't stop now," she whispered to herself, tears in her eyes as she moved to complete the curse. "I can't."

*****

For twenty eight years in Storybrooke, she thought about you, regretting the day that she let you go and longing for your presence. With no magic in this land, she couldn’t track you down. She didn’t even know if you’d made it here when the curse covered the land. She had no way of knowing for certain. Not unless she saw you. And for all twenty eight years, she’d not even seen you in passing once.

Finally, when Emma broke her curse, Regina disappeared to her vault and cast a spell on a necklace of yours that she had kept for all these years. The spell led her to a spot in the back of her garden where a bush of wild roses grew. Confused, she went to Gold, who gave her a potion to show the last memories of the person she thought about.

Once safely home, she drank the concoction down, damning any side effects that may come with it. She had to know where you were. Her vision clouded over and a scene played out in her head.

It was back on the day she cast the curse, you had broken free from her guards, the ones she’d ordered to take you away from her. You tried to reach her, in one desperate last chance to stop her. If you’d made it to her, you still would been too late, somehow she knew that, but as she watched you run, trying to make it back in the castle, she felt an ache grip her chest. And there it was, you, stumbling up the stairs in your hurry and alerting some of the castle knights. Thinking you were an ally of Snow White and Prince Charming, they pursued you, catching you easily enough after your fall. And Regina collapsed onto the floor when she witnessed one of them stab their sword through your chest.

As the fog of the memories lifted from her eyes she realized, if her house here in Storybrooke represented her former castle, then the bush of wild roses in her yard marked the very spot where you died.

Regina was completely broken by the vision and by your loss, but she made a promise to herself. She hadn’t been able to protect you in life, but she would take care of those roses until her dying breath. The bush grew there at the back of her garden because you had almost reached her when the curse was cast. Now, the place of your death had become a silent testament to her loss.

Every day, Regina tended to the roses, pouring her love and regret into their care. "I'm so sorry," she whispered to the blooms. "I was blind and foolish. I should have listened to you."

As the years passed, the roses flourished under her care, a living memorial to the love she had lost. Regina would often sit by the bush, talking to the flowering bush as if you could hear her. "I miss you," she would say, tears glistening in her eyes. "I wish I could reverse it all, make things right."

In her heart, she vowed to honor your memory, knowing that she had been too blind to see the truth when it mattered most. The roses became her solace, a reminder of what she had once and had lost, and the depth of her own folly. And as she tended to them, she hoped that somehow, somewhere, you could feel her love and her regret, and forgive her.

For @annalestern

Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul, @immyowndefender, @valencethefriendlychangeling, @crimsonwidow666, @rebelbossheart, @thedailyspiritualist, @orangeisnttheonlyfruit, @woman-simp, @aperol-with-izzy, @leonoralessoem, @ellepossum69, @lakita-fisher, @trexsuit, @analuw, @luvlesavyy, @malfoyfeed, @aliciabrower, @sparrowspixie, @imaginationismyworldlypleasure, @og-kxsh-420

Regina Mills: @dancingwith-sunflowers, @riveranddoctorsong123, @the-disorderly-writer, @ladysc, @reginassecretlover, @sarah-paulsons-bottom-lip, @ejcoolgirl, @xscarlettxbelovax, @iciclesandsnow, @the-bearr, @akeldamasemele, @geekyandgay98, @yetanotherattemptatanaccount, @academiagaymess, @lady-darkswan3, @babygirlscout, @myfriendtuvok, @axel-barnes

[justanoasisimagines]

Jealously Headcanons

Hey lovelies back with another jealously Headcanon. My requests ar open and you can find my guidlines pinned on the top of the page! Credit to cafekitsune for the banner and the divider

❀Killian will admit he's a possessive person. If you're his then you're his. Plan and simple. He wants people to know you're together so they're aware you're off limits.

❀He knows you're beautiful, an alluring little siren. He's heard your song himself. With that being said, it doesn't give anyone the right to attempt to attempt to steal you away from him.

❀Kilian is not afraid to confront anyone. He doesn't want anyone flirting with you whether it's verbal or touching. He cannot stand when someone brushes their hand over your back or wraps an arm around your waist. You are not theirs to touch like that.

❀Killian has two forms of confrontation. The first he approaches them with his usual confident self. Many find his presence intimidating enough and some scapper off. However, some people are brazen enough to stick around. Naturally, Killian uses his charm and wit to passively get the individual away from you.

❀Killian's sarcastic and nonchalant, underneath it's bothering him. Most of the time, it's enough to get them to leave. Sometimes the individual when they realise you're with Killian.

❀The second approach is much more direct. It usually occurs when Killian notices the individual is not backing off When they've laid their hands on you. Killian is more direct. He's threatening as he warns the individual off.

❀Killian's not afraid to get in a physical fight with someone who doesn't know how to respect you. They will learn to respect you one way or another.

❀He likes to remind people you two are very much together every once and a while. Killian finds enjoyment in it.

[anne-chloe]

Imagine : They don’t realise that you can’t swim

Peter Pan x Reader

Summary : The Lost boys go swimming at mermaid lagoon, they toss you in and you nearly drown

Warning : Near death experience, drowning

“Come on, [Name]!”

You stood on the sidelines of the lagoon, fingers nervously twisting with the hem of your shirt. It was a bad idea for you to have even joined the Lost Boys in the mermaid lagoon, because you knew they’d want to swim deep and would drag you with them.

It was with this very thought that you resolved to back out, to announce that you were tired and you’d return to the camp.

But you were suddenly grabbed from behind.

You craned your head back to see Devin. His arms squeezed your waist as he lifted you up, your feet kicking wildly in protest. You gasped as he started to near the edge of the rocky slope, the deep water too close for comfort.

“No! Stop!” You shouted, wiggling your shoulders back and forth for release.

Devin snickered. “It’s a bit of water! Lighten up!”

Then, he threw you into the water.

The waters surface broke as you sank towards the bottom. Your entire body was stiff and tense, and you felt awfully like a rock in that moment. You let out a scream, air bubbles leaving your mouth as no sound came out.

You blinked, eyes stinging at the murky greens and blue of the lagoons depths. You couldn’t see the surface any more; you couldn’t see anything at all.

Surrounded and suffocated by the water, you felt your heart hammer wildly out of beat at the thought of dying in the mermaid lagoon.

A pair of arms wrapped around your waist before you felt the water rush past your skin. Within seconds, you broke the surface and let out a panicked gasp for air. You grabbed blindly at the person who had saved you; you were far too aware of the lack of ground beneath your feet.

“Calm down, calm down—“

Who was that talking?

You were pulled from the water and pushed onto the rocky slope. The hard ground brought immediate comfort and relief, and you couldn’t help but lie flat.

There was that terrible, salty taste of water on your lips, and your eyes stung horribly from the sea water. You coughed and panted for air, your lungs burning as water came rushing out your mouth.

“Look at me, [Name]— are you alright? Breathe!”

You squeezed your eyes shut, suddenly finding the afternoon sun too bright to handle. Then, when you reopened your eyes you found yourself staring into those familiar green ones. Instead of the usual mischief that you’d see, you found only worry and what appeared to be guilt.

“P-Peter…?” You stammered, another coughing fit cutting you off.

Peter sighed loudly and pulled you in for a hug. His arms around you gave the strange sense of ease and comfort. “Why didn’t you say that you couldn’t swim?”

“I-I didn’t think it was important,” you coughed again, watching in disgust as water dripped from your face. You couldn’t tell if they were tears or from the sea.

Peter glared harshly at you, his arms giving a small squeeze. “Of course it was important,” he scolded, “you could have died.”

You lowered your head, feeling awkward and ashamed that you had troubled Peter and the Lost Boys like that. “I’m sorry, Peter. I just didn’t think something like this would ever happen.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “The Lost Boys will think twice about doing something like that again,” he muttered.

As Peter held you close to his chest, you couldn’t help but wonder why he had been the one to pull you from the water. Usually, he was so cold and cruel with the Lost Boys, never stepping in to save them if they needed rescuing. His excuse was that “all Lost Boys should take care of themselves, if they can’t then they’re weak.” It was only fair to assume that the rule applied to you.

But with one subtle glance around the lagoon, you could see that the Lost Boys were just as stunned as you.

[wpdarlingpan]

Could we get something with Yandere ouat Peter? Preferably gender-neutral or nb reader.

An idea I had is maybe Hook has a kid, so the character would have grown up in Neverland. I think maybe a platonic Yandere Peter would be v interesting, where he maybe tries to interact with reader as a ‘cool older brother’ sort of figure, despite the fact that reader very much knows exactly who he is and that he’s dangerous. Romantic would be fine too though!

Thank you so much for the request! I apologize it took so long and I have not written in a while so I hope it's okay!

I loved this idea so I had to see how it'll play out. I did the platonic version and although I did use Y/N and made them gender-neutral, I wrote they were 17 for the story's sake. I often have Peter refer to them as a child because in his mind he feels the need to take care of and protect them.

I am considering a part two if people like this idea enough, maybe taking place when the Storybrooke residents arrive.

Warning: Yandere Behavior

Word Count: 2886

-----------------

The Love Of A Brother

-----------------

The day Killian Jones, otherwise known by his more colorful moniker Hook, came to Neverland was a day he would never forget.

He had many men aboard, each desiring to never grow old until they wished. They all had been warned about the dangers that lurk within the water and upon the soil of Neverland but the idea of dying from old age was a more terrifying feat to them.

However, one person had little choice in the matter, as they were still somewhat forced to come to Neverland.

Captain Hook's kid, Y/N.

After the day Mila died it was up to him to become a single parent. Overall he was rather good at it. Always telling stories so that they would be able to sleep at night or sitting by their bedside when they had gotten a cold. But, no matter how much love they held for each other, Killian could not stop going after the man who killed his wife and the mother of his child.

Y/N was 17 the day they had arrived in Neverland and would remain so until the day they left.

This was not a decision Hook made lightly. Bringing the person he cared for more than anyone into the hellish landscape wasn't something he'd wish on his worst enemy (other than Rumpelstiltskin) but the idea of leaving them with no idea when he would return hurt even more.

So he created the rules.

Do not leave the boat without permission.

Do not ever interact with Peter Pan or his shadow.

Avoid the Lost Boys.

"Who is Peter Pan?" They asked their father as the Jolly Roger settled after coming through the portal to Neverland.

"A bloody demon." He responded looking at the dark island as it neared.

Hook began telling the stories that he knew. Even sharing how he had met Peter Pan in the first place. Albeit leaving out what happened to his brother as he blamed himself as well as Pan for the tragedy.

Pan knew he was arriving on the island. Hook riskily contacted him through his shadow to come to a truce before being allowed to arrive on the island.

But there was a little thing Hook had forgotten to mention.

His child.

He had hoped that if none of the inhabitants of the island knew their relation, with Peter assuming they were deckhands or something, they wouldn't be targeted if Peter got bored or wanted to play a game.

But the resemblance was noticeable from the first meeting.

-----------------

As the boat docked onto shore to make an initial supply run, Hook kept Y/N close. Half of the crew, including the two of them, walked carefully through the jungle, avoiding every thorn they came across.

But the real danger was just up ahead. After all, Peter Pan wouldn't be a polite host if he didn't welcome his guests.

The second the pirates entered a clearing they were surrounded by the sound of rustles as the leaves moved around the edge of the clearing and a figure appeared about 20 feet ahead on the other end.

Hook froze, he knew he should have expected him to show himself this early, but a part of him had hoped he wouldn't, not yet at least.

Y/N held onto their bow and arrows tightly as they observed the boy up ahead who looked just a little older than them. Judging by the way he held the spotlight, they had to assume this was Peter Pan.

"Look what we have here, I didn't expect to see you on the island this quickly. I mean after what had happened last time you were here, the idea of returning so willingly was unexpected, Captain." Peter spoke as he neared the group, the Lost Boys forming a circle around them to prevent anyone from running.

Peter inspected the group as they each held some form of weapon. Be it a dagger, sword, or even one with a bow and arrow.

He neared the one with the bow and arrow, the idea of figuring out what else made them so different lingered in his mind. Peter stood closely in front of them, studying their appearance and the subtle yet noticeable looks towards the direction of Hook.

This is when something had clicked.

His brain was no longer assessing the group as a whole or messing with the Captain. His thoughts were reserved for only them. The way they were trying to hide their shaking hands and the way they held onto the bow tighter the closer he got. The shine of their eyes as they looked at him almost like a frightened deer.

He could recognize a scared child anywhere and this time he didn't want it to be his fault. It was like an instinct of protection filled his black heart. Their fearful yet innocent gaze was embedded into his soul. Someone like this simply couldn't live with harsh pirates.

He reached a hand out towards them but Hook stepped in the way. His gaze was harsh yet Peter could easily detect the fear hidden in them. For himself or the child, he wasn't sure.

Peter smirked at Captain Hook as he realized why they had looked so familiar now seeing the similarities in their features and hair color. He had been to distracted by the odd feeling of protection and familiarity to even acknowledge the finding.

"You have a child? My you got busy after leaving last time." He teased as he glanced around the man to see them standing there, their gaze locked onto the ground.

"Stay away from them or so help me you will have wished-" Hook began to say before Peter cut him off.

"You'll do what? Let me remind you, you're here because I allow it. You eat the island's food only because I allow it. You only live because I have use for you yet." He threatened motioning his hand for the Lost Boys to run away.

Y/N took a sigh of relief as the group dispersed but their worry would still remain until Peter was out of their sight. The ideas of the horrors they were told, all of which could happen to them just by being in his presence, filled their anxious mind.

Peter stared at Hook seriously before sending a look and a playful wink toward Y/N, hoping to make them less afraid.

"I'll see you soon." He commented staring directly into their eyes before disappearing.

—————————

Apparently soon meant a few days.

It first began when Y/N was laying on deck, watching the stars when someone appeared next to them and laid down on the spare part of the blanket.

“The stars are beautiful aren’t they?” He spoke as if lying on the ground next to them wasn’t an unusual occurrence.

Y/N was silent, trying to hide the fact they were afraid. The unknowing was terrible, the idea that their father was fast asleep, probably passed out from exhaustion at that, was nerve-wracking as they could not call for help.

“You don’t need to be afraid of me.” Pan said genuinely, staring at the side of their face as he admired their courage to hide their fear.

“Why wouldn’t I be? You have a reputation you know. I’m sure you could get rid of me in a heartbeat.” Y/N was nervous now, it audibly showed through the small stutter that sounded in their sentence.

“That doesn’t mean I want to… Do you know why I’ve brought all these boys to the island?”

“Because they’re lost?”

“Because no one deserves to feel alone.”

Peter Pan believed that because Y/N was an only child who spent their whole life traveling the seas, that they had to be lonely. They are constantly moving and never staying in one place, let alone with people their age.

Then their father, he’s a pirate with a drinking problem who is so obsessed with revenge that even though he is protective and loves his child, Peter couldn’t tell you which the man valued more.

Revenge or love?

If Peter were to take her right now, he could be their older brother. Someone who takes care of their little sibling in the face of everything like heartbreak, anxiety, everything that would make them feel anything other than happiness.

Y/N would be his sibling. He’d be their only brother.

Being an older brother to Y/N sounded perfect to him.

—————————

Their next encounter was when they had been sitting on the edge of the beach as the Jolly Roger was anchored nearby.

Y/N's father had allowed them to hang out along the shore alone.

The captain and crewmates were planning on staying on the edge of the jungle that was Neverland. He had figured they would be okay for a couple hours and that he could hear if they needed anything.

He knew the dangers that posed leaving them there alone but he thought they would be cornered again the second they entered the tree line so there really wasn’t anywhere ‘safe’ at the moment.

That’s how he rationalized it at least.

But when Peter saw them sitting alone on the shore, the mermaids moving closer by the second, he saw Hook as irresponsible and unfit to care for Y/N.

He quickly approached them, the sight of him causing the mermaids to swim away quickly, realizing that was not someone they wanted to lure in.

“Y/N.” Peter said as he approached, sitting in the sand next to them.

“What are you doing?” They spoke questioningly “I thought you would be bothering my father and his crew.”

“Is that what he counted on. Me leaving you alone as they frolicked or whatever they are doing in the jungle? Is that why he left you here defenseless?” He replied getting more confident that Killian wasn’t fit to take care of Y/N.

“I don’t like what you’re accusing him of.” Y/N replied, glaring at Pan in front of them but if anything it was adorable.

He raised his hands jokingly as if he actually felt threatened by them.

“I’m just saying, he knows the dangers of this island. If it’s not me, it’s the lost boys, then the Dreamshade, and as you almost realized, the mermaids.” Peter counted off making Y/N realize what the subtle splashing noise they heard was. “He shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“I’m 17. I can take care of myself for a few hours.” They argued, much like if they were telling their older sibling they didn’t need to be babysat.

“Sure you can. But you don’t need to when I’m here.”

———————-

From then on he would appear randomly whenever he knew Y/N was alone.

When they weren’t, he was silently protecting them from the shadows.

If we’re sketching in their room? He’d sit next to them silently, allowing them to focus. Meanwhile he was busy admiring their skills even if it was a simple picture of the sky.

They volunteered to go look for some more supplies on the island?

They mysteriously got separated from the group for a few hours.

He took them saying ‘I can take care of myself for a few hours’ rather literally. In those few hours, they got an entire tour of the main points of the island.

Even the camp.

Peter had them sit on his designated chair, introducing Y/N as their little sibling. Each of the boys came up to them and introducing themselves enthusiastically as the proposed all the fun games they could play if they were to stay.

Even when Y/N emphasized greatly that they couldn’t.

Each and every time.

When their birthday came around Peter gifted them a necklace, his initials were on the inside, to protect them from anyone who finds their way to the island.

Although he made sure to use his magic to conceal the necklace from the eyes of Hook.

Not that he cared about what the man thought, after all nothing would keep him from his little sibling.

Nothing.

-----------

The day Peter had been preparing for came sooner than expected.

Hook had discovered a way to kill the dark one and his need for the island was gone. Meaning it was time to return back to the enchanted forest.

The crew had begun preparing to return back to the forest. Packing up their supplies and strapping down anything they had on deck to prepare for traveling through the portal.

Y/N was packing up anything loose in their room. They had mostly finished other than having to pack the rest of their art supplies.

“So you were just going to leave and not tell your older brother? I'm offended” Peter spoke appearing in their room and sitting on their bed.

In their deal, he had allowed Hook to leave once he had found a way to accomplish his goal.

That was before he had met Y/N.

“I was never going to say in Neverland. I was always going to leave. I don’t know what you were expecting.” Y/N spoke harshly trying to push him away.

They had to admit, after all this time spent with Peter, that it was hard to view him as some irredeemable demon. He comforted them when they had nightmares of their mother’s death, protected them from the mermaids, did their favorite activities with them (even if he was not really invited), and seemed to love them.

Peter knew they were just trying to protect themself from the pain of leaving so they lashed out. He could tell they were saddened at the thought of leaving him. This made him feel warm inside.

Y/N assumed they’d be fine once leaving Neverland, they would have to forget about Peter Pan and their life would go back to normal, well as normal as it gets.

Suddenly they heard approaching footsteps.

“Y/N? Are you ready to go? We are about to enter the portal now.” Killian called through the closed door, his eagerness to leave the island covering the fact that there was a muffled sound as he spoke. Hook was ecstatic, his time for revenge had come. His head was in the clouds as he ran over his plan over and over again. Causing him to not even think to just poke his head in to check on his child, just of the idea that the portal was closing any minute

The muffled noise was Peter whispering that he would not let Hook leave if they said anything other than that they were ready.

Y/N knew if they weren’t allowed to leave, their father would be devastated.

“Yes father, I’m ready!” They called back and the two listened as the man’s footsteps grew farther and farther away.

“You can’t leave Y/N. You’re my little sibling, I have to take care of you.” He spoke manipulatively the second Hook was out of distance.

“I have to. If it’s up to me, I’ll never leave my father. He raised me, he loves me! He will take care of me better than you ever can.” Y/N retorted, frustrated at the situation. Why wouldn't Peter just go away? They knew they cared for him, even just a little bit. But their father was very important to them. Even if he had been a little distracted while searching for revenge, they didn't feel his love any less.

A loving father or a over protective, self-proclaimed brother.

They knew which had meant more. They had made their choice, one they couldn't vocalize as Peter softly blew poppy dust into their face, causing them to pass out instantly.

“Then it isn’t up to you.” as he spoke “This is for your own good. I love you Y/N and I know you love me. You are better off at my side.”

He picked them up bridal style as he and Y/N disappeared off the boat and reappeared in the camp. All of their stuff appears on the ground off to the side of them.

"Welcome to your new home, Y/N"

-------------

Hook had gone to Y/N’s cabin to check on them, the portal closing behind him as they could see the Enchanted Forest off in the distance.

He was eager to see his child, wanting to celebrate the idea of finally being able to avenge his wife and their mother. Hook knocked and didn’t hear an answer assuming they had been disoriented or hurt by the portal, he opened the door quickly.

But, he was met with an empty room and no Y/N.

He looked around for any signs frantically before he spotted a letter on the bed.

Hook,

You were always too focused on the idea of revenge that you neglected what was in front of you. You never deserved Y/N and you never will. Each time you left them alone, I was there. I comforted them, I protected them, and I loved them. Each thing is something you couldn't do while you searched for something you did not even know existed. Y/N will be better off without you.

I always wondered if you'd choose revenge over love.

I guess I have my answer.

Their brother,

Peter Pan

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Sebastian Stan characters finding out you’re pregnant » Jefferson/Mad Hatter

Pairings: Jefferson x Female Reader

Summary: Jefferson finds out you’re pregnant.

Warnings: Fluff, language, pet name

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators. I found it on Pinterest.

The first words out of Jefferson’s mouth would be “Grace is going to be a big sister?”

He would be overly excited about having another baby. He’s happy that you’re the mother of his second baby.

When you and Jefferson tell Grace, she would be overly excited too and she would say “I get to be a big sister!”

Graces would be so excited to tell her friends.

This isn’t Jefferson’s first time being a dad, he would be a little more prepared than he was the first time.

Grace would want to be your little helper if you need anything. If you want a snack or something to drink, she’ll go to the kitchen to get you something to eat and drink.

Grace saying “I want a little sister.”

You buying a Grace a shirt that says “Big Sister” on it.

Grace would try to help you and Jefferson set up the nursery.

Jefferson talking to the baby everyday, especially every night before bed.

Grace would sneak out of her bedroom after you and Jefferson tucked her in for the night just to hug your baby bump and say “I didn’t get to say goodnight to sissy.”

Grace would draw you and Jefferson pictures and describe every single detail of it.

Jefferson wouldn’t mind the gender of the baby just as long as the baby is healthy.

Jefferson would have his hand on your baby bump at all times, especially when you two are cuddling and when you two are sleeping so he can be close to you.

Grace asking you and Jefferson where babies come from. You would giggle and look at Jefferson while he comes up with an appropriate way of telling his daughter where babies come from.

Grace wanting to take an ultrasound picture to school so she can show her friends her new baby brother or baby sister. She would tell them her little sibling is a girl without knowing it first, because she’s excited.

Jefferson being the gentleman he is would give you any kind of comfort like massages. For example, if you complain about your feet or back hurting, he’ll give you a massage.

You would feel a little insecure when your baby bump gets bigger. Jefferson would tell you how beautiful you are and the baby bump makes you even more beautiful.

Grace would shop for baby clothes with you and Jefferson. She would immediately go to the girl section of the baby clothes.

Over all, Jefferson would be excited and happy that he gets to do this all over again. Grace would be happy and excited too.

[stephstars08]

Always Running Away

Peter Pan x Reader

Warning: Adult Language, Mention of Reader’s Mother’s Death, Reader being Abused by Her Father, Mention of Mental and Physical Abuse, Mention of Alcoholism, Anxiety, Angst (Fluff at the End), and Possible Grammar Errors. (Let Me Know if I Forgot Any!!)

Summary: Y/N is the first and only lost girl on Neverland. All the boys think Y/N is only allowed to stay because of the abuse she gets from her father but there is another reason why Peter lets her stay on the island and that reason is why he always runs away from her.

Word Count: 1,501

Author’s Note: FINALLY I HAVE RELEASED A STORY! My first Peter Pan story is finally here, so sorry for the wait! I just recently started getting back into OUAT so that’s why I wanted to write for Peter Pan and I’m getting so many ideas for him so I hope you all enjoy!

Y/N is the first and only lost girl on Neverland. How she got to Neverland she doesn’t know since she just woke up on the island but why she was taken there she does know.

Y/N is a sixteen year old girl but she didn’t have your typical teenage girl life. Her mother died when she was just eight years old. Her mother died by drowning after saving her from drowning.

She took her mother’s death hard but no one took it harder than her father. He started to drink heavily which made him emotional and physically abuse Y/N. He would yell at her by telling her that it’s her fault that he mother is dead and that she’s nothing but a fucking mistake. He’s even told her that it should’ve been her that died instead of her mother.

There would be some nights that her father would get to mad at her that he would slap her so hard it would knock her down onto the floor or knock her into the wall or another piece of furniture breaking it. Then that would make him even more angry and say that it was her fault she broke something. No matter what Y/N did, it wasn’t good enough for her father.

When Y/N woke up on Neverland she was immediately found by a boy named Felix. Of course, Felix knew that Y/N was brought by the shadow. Before Felix could take her to Peter he had already showed up. Peter immediately noticed the bruises on Y/N’s arms and a big bruise on her cheek. After introducing each other Y/N told them everything that she knew. Peter asked about her bruises and she told him. Peter knew that he couldn’t just send her back to her abusive father. She’s been through enough and if he sends her back who knows if what would happen. He could end up killing her.

Peter let her stay and let her become the first lost girl. Everyone and Y/N thought that her background was the only reason why Peter let her stay on the island but Peter had another reason.

********************

Y/N had just came back to camp after her daily morning walk she goes on. She saw Peter and Felix talking so she decided to walk over to them. “Hey guys!” Y/N said to the boys with a kind smile. “Hey Y/N.” Felix said back. “I got to go.” Peter said and walked away from them.

“Okay, why the fuck does he keep doing that!” Y/N said quickly becoming frustrated. Y/N has a good and close relationship with all the boys including Peter but recently every time she approaches him, he walks away from her. “I don’t know.” Felix shrugged. He does know why Peter keeps avoiding her but he knows he’s not the one to tell her.

“Did I do something wrong?” Y/N asked him with sadness in her eyes. “Listen Y/N, this is between you and Pan.” Felix told her. “You’re going to have to go talk to him.” Felix added which earned him a nod from her since she knew he was right.

********************

As the day went on Y/N thought about what she was going to say to Peter. She always gets nervous when she goes to talk to Peter by herself. Y/N knows that she’s starting to develop feelings for Peter which does scare her. She knows how private Peter is. She knows how he closes off certain feelings. Maybe that’s why Peter keeps running away from her. Maybe he knows that she’s growing feelings for him.

Once Y/N knew what she was going to say to Peter she made her way to Peter’s cabin. When she got to Peter’s cabin door she could feel her nerves start to pace and her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest. She really wanted to just run away but she knew she couldn’t so she took a deep and calming breath. Once she felt a little calmer she knocked on the door and waited. She was hoping he was in there.

When the door swung open there stood a surprised Peter. He doesn’t ever expect anyone to come to his cabin. “Y/N? What are you doing here?” Peter asked her. “I need to talk to you.” Y/N told him. “I’m busy.” Peter told her. He went to close the door but Y/N quickly stopped it with her hand. “Please Pan! It’s important.” Y/N told him in pleading tone. Peter let out a heavy sigh. He walked out of his cabin and shut the door.

“What do you need to talk to me about?” Peter asked her. “Do you hate me?” Y/N asked him which took him by surprise. She figured she would just get straight to the point. “Do I hate you? What kind of question is that?” Peter asked her with confusion in his voice. “Just please answer the question.” Y/N told him with a heavy sigh. She’s been having that question floating around her mind for what feels like forever. “No, of course I don’t hate you.” Peter answered her while shaking his head.

“Then why do you avoid me or walk away every time I approach you?” Y/N asked him with frustration in her voice. “It’s like you keep running away from me.” She added. “It’s complicated.” Peter told her looking away from her. “What? What do you mean by it’s complicated?” Y/N asked looking at him with confusion in her eyes. Peter just stayed silent since he didn’t know what to say.

“Do you want me to leave?” Y/N asked him which made him quickly look back at her. “Of course not!” Peter told her in a reassuring tone. “Then what is it? Did I do something wrong to make you run away from me?” Y/N said as her eyes started to fill with tears. Peter let out a sigh. Seeing the tears form in her eyes made him realize that he can’t keep in his secret anymore.

“I’m falling in love with you.” Peter confessed which took Y/N by surprise. “You have feelings for me?” Y/N asked in complete shock. Peter just gave her a nod. “I have feelings for you, too.” Y/N confessed to him. “You shouldn’t.” Peter told her. “What do you mean?” Y/N asked him. “Because I’m a fucking mess, Y/N.” Peter told her with a mixture of anger and frustration in his voice.

“I don’t know how to love. I just know how to cause pain to people. I hurt every person that gets close to me.” Peter told her which made her heart ache. “I can show you how to love.” Y/N told him. She went to put her hand onto his cheek but he took a step back from her.

“No.” Peter started. “You can’t. No one can.” Peter told her. He turned away from her and walked away leaving her all by herself.

********************

As days went by Y/N was now the one running away from Peter. Peter feels awful for what he said and every time he goes to apologize she walks away from him.

The lost boys were hanging out together around the camp fire. Peter was sitting by the campfire on a log. He looked over at Y/N who was sitting on a log all by herself away from everyone. Peter stood up and walked over to her.

“Y/N, can I talk to you?” Peter asked her. “No.” Y/N answered without looking at him. She just stared down at the ground. “Please Y/N, it’s really important.” Peter said to her in pleading tone. When Y/N looked up at him she saw the pleading look in his green eyes. Y/N let out a heavy sigh in defeat. “Fine.” Y/N told him standing up from her seat on the log.

Y/N followed Peter in the woods so they were alone. “I want to take you up on your offer.” Peter told her which made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. “You do?” Y/N asked him in a soft tone. “My whole goal was to not hurt you but I obviously fucked that up by ignoring you.” Peter told her. Peter took both of her hands into his and gave them a light squeeze. “I want to be with you. I want you to teach me how to love.” Peter told her as his green eyes stared into her Y/E/C eyes. “Are you sure?” Y/N asked him. She doesn’t want to pressure him into doing something he’s not comfortable with. “Does this answer your question?” Peter started.

Before Y/N could say anything Peter connected his lips with hers. Y/N immediately melted into the kiss. She’s dreamed of this moment for so long that she couldn’t believe that it was actually happening. When they released from the kiss they had to catch their breaths.

“Pan-“ Y/N started to say but he cut her off. “Please, call me Peter.” Peter told her and reconnected his lips with hers.

[stayevildarling]

I am absolutely dying for a regina mills smut fic please please please 😭

Regina Mills x Reader- Magic in the moonlight

A/N: Here you go🫶🏼

tw/tags: female reader, established relationship, nsfw, enchanted strap, mommy kink, praise kink, breeding kink, reader recieving, regina recieving, oral, bottom reader, top regina, aftercare, soft/fluff

word count: 2.6k

taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker , @billiebeanhoward , @lanawinters-ily , @kenzbro , @minaslittleone , @httpfiftyshadesofgay @whitelotus00 , @ninaahelvar , @paulsonsratched , @vintagepaulson , @isle-of-earle , @grilledcheeseandguavajelly , @lucyintheskywithxanax , @fanfics4world , @mymiraclewitch , @hazard-to-myself , @awritersometimes , @wastdstime , @p1pecleanerwitheyes , @queen2234 , @ihartnat , @lifebyinez , @ahsatanizgay , @blu3dimples

The days in Storybrooke had turned colder lately, leaves slowly turning shades of orange and brown and bringing some chilly nights along. Regina and you had been incredibly busy lately, her being the mayor, Henry and the people in the brunette‘s life who had quickly welcomed you into their family, as the two of you had dated for several months now. And between all the dinners at grannys, family sunday breakfasts and teaching at the school, your lifes were always busy these days.

Most of the time, the two of you would barely see each other, lucky if you both had time to enjoy morning coffee and a quick chat before one of you needed to rush out the door, either of you, mostly Regina, returning home late and finding you already asleep. And with the mostly busy weekends, neither of you have had time to enjoy each other‘s company lately. And undeniably you missed each other, craved each other. It was obvious, the way your body set on fire whenever Regina lingered her hand on your leg briefly, when her lips would brush against yours in the morning before leaving. You needed each other desperately.

And luckily, the brunette had made some arrangements, cancelling the usual friday evening granny plans and Henry gone for the night, finishing work early and having pulled some strings at the school to have you home at a reasonable time. Once you step into your shared home, the smell of your girlfriend‘s cooking fills the large mansion, clouding your senses for a moment as you excitedly abandon your coat and bag, not having expected her to be home already, let alone having dinner prepared for you. „Hi“ you beam as you step into the dining room, finding the table neatly set, some candles illuminating the room further and hearing some noises coming from the kitchen.

„Hey darling“ she greets you softly as she carries some food into the dining room, bending over to place it on the table in front of you and your breath catches in your throat for a moment as you see the dress. Short..way too short.. and the colour red plastered all over her, the lipstick matching. Her cleavage takes your breath away for a moment as well as the exposed skin of her legs, as the familiar longing runs through your body, having to stop yourself from drooling as your mouth hangs wide open. „Cat got your tongue?“ she teases, a smirk on her face before she disappears for a moment, returning seconds later with two glasses of wine, passing you one.

„I thought we can use some alone time, just us two, I missed you“ she admits, her eyes sparkling with honesty and for a moment your mouth closes, a smile spreading as well as a little frown, having missed your girlfriend and very appreciative of the gesture and effort she went through tonight for you. „Thank you Gina“ you thank her and in response she raises her glass. Both of your eyes lock and as if some invisible string is pulling you towards each other, you abandon your glass of wine as you walk over to her. You pause for a moment, the hunger reflecting in your eyes, your breathing heavy as every part of you screams for the woman in front of you, but then you remember dinner and the effort she went through.

But Regina has other ideas, abandoning her wine just as quickly as she pulls you closer by the collar of your shirt, crashing her lips against yours, a moan escaping your lips as the familiar longing and electricity runs through your body, travelling straight to your stomach and core seconds later. Your tongues dance, similar to your hearts, as Regina fights for entrance and you quickly granting it, her entire movements sending you into overdrive already. „Y/N“ she moans as her lips travel to your neck, her breath hot against your ear as her hands tangle through your hair. „Gina“ you whine, needing her, wanting her so badly.

Neither of you care about dinner, the effort she went through long forgotten as the two of you stumble upstairs, your lips never leaving each other, hands never stopping to touch each other, the two of you giggling as your girlfriend attempts kicking her heels off but failing and you stopping her from tripping. Your back hits the bed softly as your girlfriend hovers above you, her lips kissing every inch of your body, sending tingles all over, your nipples already hard, your core glistening as she has you stripped of your clothing within seconds. Her lips ghost over your hardened buds, seductively taking them into her mouth, her eyes never leaving yours as she lets them go with a pop, a little smirk on her face as she sees your desperation, your breathing heavy.

Right now your girlfriend doesn‘t care about her own pleasure, wanting nothing more than to make you feel good, make you moan and whine and scream her name, like the many times she had before. But you have the same idea, wanting so badly to see the brunette fall apart and so in a brave attempt you sit up, her legs wrapping around yours as you have her on your lap, slowly taking off her dress and beginning to kiss the inches of her bare skin, goosebumps lingering at your touch, gentle and slow but sloppy at the same time, your desperation getting the better of you. And she lets you, the older woman usually in control, usually on top of you but she wants to feel you, every single touch and kiss on her skin igniting the same fire that had been building up over weeks.

„God Gina, you‘re so beautiful“ you whisper as you sloppily kiss her neck, her body so perfect and responsive for you. „Says you my love“ she teases, causing you to giggle momentarily, the love you both feel for each other present even in these moments. Your girlfriend wastes no time before pressing you down on the bed again, trailing sloppy kisses down your chest and stomach before settling between your thighs. „Spread your legs baby“ she orders and you do as you are told, before she nods appreciatively „That‘s it“. Her lips travel from your thighs to where you need her the most, your glistening core already so desperate for her, needing her to devour you. „Please Gina“ you beg, your hips wiggling a little, wanting to feel her so badly.

„Only because you asked so nicely“ she winks your way before wasting no time and her tongue runs through your soaked folds, ripping a loud moan from your throat, one filled with so much desperation that even your girlfriend is shocked. She wastes no time, knowing you are beyond ready before she begins sucking your clit, her tongue working her magic on your pussy just the way you loved it before her tongue enters you. Within seconds you are a moaning mess, your hips bucking, forcing your soaked center further into her face, the woman chuckling lowly at your neediness, sending vibrations right through you. Your hands grip the mattress, already so on edge, so close and your girlfriend can tell, knowing you won‘t last long and so with one last lick, she lets go, sitting up.

„Hey“ you pout in protest, your chest still heaving before she leans down, keeping you quiet before kissing you, letting you taste yourself on her lips. „I was thinking, how about we use the strap?“ she offers as she whispers in your ear and your eyebrows raise in surprise, the two of you only really using the strap for special occasions. „Really?“ you ask, feeling a little excited at the thought, despite knowing she could have made you falter right then if she kept her tongue on you. „Give me a second“ she smiles, before she presses a kiss to your forehead, stepping into her closet for a moment and returning a few moments later. The strap is secured around her, the black straps keeping it in place and you couldn‘t deny how hot she looked like this, wanting nothing more than her fake cock to enter your desperate pussy.

Within an instant, Regina is on top of you, kissing you deeply, already lining up the strap to your core, knowing you are more than ready for her, knowing she didn‘t need any lube. „Ready?“ she asks softly and you nod eagerly, your eyes forced closed, wanting her inside you so bad. „Yes please“ you manage to whine and within a moment she enters you, the tip first to let you adjust before she moves further and further inside you, bottoming out quickly as you let out a scream that causes her to chuckle lowly. She moves slowly, her hands keeping your hips in place before you open your eyes „Gina?“ you ask and she mumbles something incoherent before you carry on through moans and pants „It feels weird“ you manage to mumble out before she chuckles.

„I have enchanted it sweet girl“ she explains and thats all you needed to know, the two of you having talked about this before but never getting the time to try it. As soon as you see her face, seeing how she is feeling this just like you are, feeling the same pleasure, you force your eyes closed, focusing and savouring the feeling of having her inside you. „Just relax little one, it will feel so good, trust me“ she guides you through it as she keeps her pace slow and steady, despite wanting to absolutely ruin you, your pussy taking her so well, swallowing her cock, your walls so tight but feeling so good. There is a small moment of discomfort on your part but she guides you through it „Focus on your breathing sweetheart“ she tells you and once that feeling leaves you, the two of your eyes lock, the brunette seeing the discomfort replaced with a hunger and desire that causes her to lose any desire of holding back.

Her hips slam into you at a ruthless pace, the feeling of your pussy and finally able to feel it almost enough to make you both stumble over the edge. „Gina.. oh god“ you pant, your eyes forced shut as the feeling of her inside you sends waves of electricity and euphoria through your body, a feeling you had never experienced before. Your bodies move in perfect synch, your bodies dancing and catching up on what you had missed in the past few weeks. A little while later, your girlfriend lowers herself onto you, your mere chests touching as she still rocks her hips into you at a ruthless pace, wanting to kiss you while she is fucking you mindless. „You feel so good“ she whispers as you tremble against her, your lips hungrily kissing her, her teeth gracing your lower lip.

She can feel you tightening around her, the coil in your stomach about to burst and so she picks up the pace, entering you even deeper, hitting your sweet spot perfectly and causing your eyes to roll deep into your skull. „Oh.. Gina.. I“ you cry out and her free hand moves to your cheek, wiping some tears from the pleasure. „Cum for me baby, all over mommy‘s cock“ she encourages and you do without question, your hips buck into her and as you scream her name, your entire body trembling you coat her in your juices. „Mommy“ you whisper as the pleasure runs through you, your entire body shaking from the intensity of your orgasm.

When you finally open your eyes you see her moving up slighly, ready to pull out as her own orgasm begins washing over her, wanting to give you a break. „No.. no“ you whisper before you pull her down, her body slamming against you as your legs wrap around her hips, keeping her inside you. „Y/N.. I can‘t - I“ she stammers but you begin moving your hips, not caring about the slight sensitivity, her cock feeling so good inside you, making you so full. „Cum inside me“ you whisper, her eyes widening at your words and movements. She pauses for a moment, not having expected this but you give her no time to think it over, your hips moving in perfect synch with her.

„Please cum inside me Gina“ you whisper again as you keep eye contact, your eyes pleading with her. „Want you to fill me up mommy“ you whisper and she wastes no time, thrusting into you even harder than before, her own orgasm washing over her as you continiue to move and buck your hips perfectly for her, your legs keeping her right inside you, your nails marking her back. „Come on mommy please“ you whimper as she falls apart. „Oh god Y/N“ she moans into your mouth as your lips reconnect yet again and then with a final thrust you feel her juices coating your walls, the feeling so intense, unlike anything you had ever felt before, sending you right over the edge again without warning. „That‘s it baby, cum with me“ she moans upon noticing and the two of you burst at the same time, her cock shooting more cum into your drenched pussy and your juices flowing down her, the only sounds in the bedroom your cum mingling together.

„Fuck Gina“ you pant as the two of you finally catch your breathing, the brunette, finally pulling out of you carefully. She flops down beside you, your chests equally heaving, your bodies feeling numb from exhaustion. Her hand find yours, a silent promise that she is here, a silent praise for doing so good for her. With a flick of her wrist her cock turns into a strap on again and she abandons it quickly before laying on her side, taking the sight your sweaty and exhausted form in. She leans closer, her arms wrapping around you as she whispers „You did so well sweet girl“. Regina gently wipes your tears, knowing what they mean, the woman knowing you so well by now, she knows they are from pure joy and the intensity of your orgasms. The two of you stay in each other��s embrace for a while before she leaves, running you both a bath and offering her hand to lead you there, knowing how exhausted your body must be and how much your legs are still trembling.

A few minutes later she has you leaning against her in the bath, the two of you sitting in the warm water and letting it soak your tired muscles as she holds you close from behind. She washes you gently, praising you with each gentle stroke of her hands on your skin, your eyes closed, soaking up the warmth from the bath and the woman holding you, feeling exhausted but content either way. „You took me so well“ she teases as she whispers in your ear, causing you to chuckle a little. After a little while you turn your head so your eyes meet her brown ones „I liked it a lot“ you admit and she smirks, knowing this was just the beginning of exploring this with you, your girlfriend having met a whole new side of you tonight. „We need more time off together then“ she teases and you nod before leaning into her again, your cheeks coated in a slight red shade.

„I love you Gina“ you mumble sleepily and she instinctively holds you a little closer before whispering „I love you so much more sweet girl“ before pressing a kiss to the back of your head.

[maximumqueer]

My reaction to ep. 46: This isn't so bad, why do people keep talking about it like something horrible is going to - oh.

Oh

OH

[foreverdolly]

𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐆𝐔𝐍 𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 | austin!tex watson x kidnapped!reader

summary: the year is 1969 and you find yourself lucky enough to live up in the hollywood hills, spending your days dancing away to your favorite rock n’ roll vinyls in an old farmhouse and looking after your wild roommates. the only problem? you’ve caught the eye of tex watson. how does he spend his days? making moves towards finally getting everything that he could ever want. you.

pairings: obsessive!tex watson x kidnapped!reader

word count: 16,557

warnings/notes: HEAVY SMUT! serious gunplay, sexy russian roulette, cream pie, breeding kink, marking, claiming, possessiveness, tex literally stalks you, tex then kidnaps you, mention of the manson family, mentions of murder and violence- this is the sexiest thing i’ve ever written, and i will fully finish editing it tomorrow. i’m emotionally drained after finishing this.

masterlist | requests are currently closed for now.

Up in the California hills there sits a small house, nestled smack dab in the middle of a few sprawling acres of farmland. This is where Tex first saw you. 

There’s a long drive leading up to the old farmhouse, and behind it is a small red barn which has faded to a rusty orange over time due to the blinding summer sun. Every once in a while an older gentleman that looks to be in his early fifties will make his way up the mountainside to his little stretch of heaven, the large tires of his wide body chevy truck easily making it over the bumps and divots in the land, so that he can check on his tenants. He’s the kind, homely sort that the Texan was used to interacting with in the south. Watson, who was currently parked on the back bend of the mountain and just out of sight of the house and the main road, watched the older man closely. Tex’s shoulder length hair blew into his face with a large gust of wind, and he was quick to tuck it right back behind his ear, readjusting his cowboy hat to stop the annoyance from happening again. 

A gaggle of girls lived in that farmhouse, all appearing to be what the Californians would consider to be hippies. The free lovin’, barefoot walking, rock n’ roll dancing type of gals that Tex had been told to stay away from once or twice. Of course, these types of girls were the kind that Charlie seemed to like the most. 

The older landowner seemed to have no reservation about their scantily clad forms or the fact that three out of the four of them smoked like chimneys. The man would always climb out of his truck and head to the side door that was connected to the kitchen, and then you would duck your head out with a smile and beckon him in. Tex had been watching that house of yours for what seemed like days, but had really been weeks. Charlie had said in passing that he had seen a car full of pretty girls that might want to come stay at the ranch, and had given Tex the task of extending the invitation. What the “prophet” hadn’t expected was that the tall, lanky boy might grow fond of one of them. 

It was impossible to deny your charms, even from a few hundred feet away. You’d dance to your records like no one was watching, your head thrown back as you loudly sang the lyrics to your favorite songs. It was obvious to him, even after the first few hours of watching you through the windows of the house, that you were the designated ‘mother’ of the group. You cooked most of the meals and cleaned up after the messy hellions with little to no complaints. He supposed that the older gentleman must have been someone’s father, though Tex didn’t care enough to get a very good look at him and his features. Why would he pay attention to anyone else but you? Charlie would ask every other day about the progress Tex was making with talking “the pretty little things down the road” into joining the family, and Tex was guilty of lying about the strides that he was taking to make nice with the group. 

Today was just like any other day. The sun was beating down on the brunette and his tanned skin, his sensitive blue irises shielded by the brim of his hat. He was wearing a t-shirt that communally belonged to the family, though it was a size or two too small for him. It must have been one of the girl’s shirts, because it was quite snug. When he raised his arms the shirt would brush up and over his navel, and when his arms were at his sides, like they were now, it brushed against the soft flesh of his stomach. Today's outfit wasn’t exactly appropriate for crouching down in briars. Not even the fabric of his low waisted, boot cut jeans protected him from the painful stick of thorns. Nothing was going to get in his way of getting a good look at you though. 

“Thanks for dropping by to fix the sink, sir. I’m just sorry that Debbie was out of the house though. . . I know you don’t get to see her often, Mr Swanson.” You were talking to the old man out on the front porch, opening the screen door for him so that he could make his way down the rickety old steps. 

It wasn’t often that Tex got to hear your voice so clear. You seemed apologetic, and from where he stood in the tall brush and thorns, Tex could see that your eyes were soft on the man. Almost like you felt bad about something. The man, who Tex now knew as Mr Swanson, stopped by the door of his truck, quickly waving off your concerns. 

“I’ll just see her the next time I swing by. Let her know that I love her though, will ya?” His voice was deep, with a southern drawl that made the brunette feel a sort of kinship. It wasn’t entirely unusual for people to move to Los Angeles from southern states, but it was rare to meet someone with an accent as thick as his own. ‘Tex’ was a nickname he had been given by the group, and he found that he preferred it to his birth name anyway. Texas, they called him. 

“Will do. Thank you again, sir.” You made sure to watch the man drive off, staying on the porch until his car disappeared behind a thick patch of trees. 

For a second Tex worried that the man might be able to see his car once he got far enough down the mountain, but relaxed when he realized that there were a couple of thick saplings that covered up the car completely. Tex was quick to stand up, clenching his teeth as a few thorns ripped into the skin of his hands as he continued to shuffle through the bushes. Thankfully his cowboy boots protected his lower legs, but the rest of his lithe body was fair game for the sharp weeds. 

He watched your form float through the house, smiling softly to himself as you ended up in the kitchen, just as you always did. You were currently stirring away at something in a big pot, and he was sure that you were already getting things ready for dinner. You were kind and thoughtful like that. It was one of the many reasons why he was so enamored with you. He waited a few more minutes, watching to see if there was anybody else in the house. The upstairs lights were all off, meaning the girls probably weren’t in their rooms. You had also apologized about Debbie’s absence, who he assumed must have been the older man’s daughter. Clearing his throat to calm his sudden nerves, Tex walked out from the bushes, over the dirt driveway, and up the front steps of the house. The porch creaked under his weight as he stalked his way up to the front door. 

He stood there for a few seconds, his fist raised and hovering over the wooden door. He had come up with a story as a means to get you to trust him beforehand, but a strange sense of guilt had begun washing over him. Tex was by no means a good person. He wasn’t shocked by the fact that he was really standing on your front porch, mere seconds from stealing you away to the ranch. Instead of being shaken to the core by his innermost urges, he had mindlessly acted on them. Now here he stood, right on your front porch. Right where he shouldn’t be. He still had time to turn around. He could have told Charlie that he knew you personally, and felt odd about taking you back to the ranch. The head of the family would have been annoyed, and perhaps Tex would be forced to prove his loyalty, but you would at least be safe and untouched. You were too sweet and pure to be tainted. 

Tex slowly turned his head to face the long drive, biting the inside of his cheek as he wracked his brain for some sort of definitive answer. What should he do? The second that he took you there would be no turning back. You’d be forced to stay with him… but wasn’t that what he really wanted? Fate had placed you right into his lap. You were meant for him and nobody else. You gave the lanky man no time to mull over his decision. From the kitchen window you had seen him walking up the drive and decided to investigate.

At first you had been terrified, and rightly so. You rarely got any visitors since you lived so far out in the middle of nowhere, so it was unusual for a man who was around your age to be wandering around on your land. You had placed the wooden spoon down on the counter, shuffling over towards the front door in the hopes of being able to see him through the small windows that overlooked the porch. Sure enough he seemed to just be standing there, his eyebrows knit in concern, his plush lips downturned into a deep frown. It was his obvious distress that made you open up the front door, looking at him through the screen. Little did you know that you would be sacrificing both your safety and your life. He blinked at you, his handsome face hidden behind the shadow that was cast from the brim of his hat. 

“U-Uh. . . can I help you, sir?” You asked, trying to keep the fear out of your tone. 

You’d recently caught wind of a few recent robberies, and the last thing that you wanted was for something like that to happen to you. The longer that you looked at the handsome stranger, the harder it was to believe that he could be a thief though. You eyed his clothing for a second before finally deciding that he must be one of the girl’s guests. The cropped shirt and tight fitting jeans made him fit in with the sort of crowd that you usually hung around. Without a second thought you swung the screen door open, allowing him to shuffle a few steps closer to you. “Are you here to see one of the girls? They’re actually headed into town right now, but feel free to wait around-” Your heart lurched as you watched him lean against the doorframe, shoving his hands into his pockets as he watched you. 

No one had ever looked at you the way that he was looking at you in that moment. Sure, you attracted men’s attention, but this wasn’t just a glazed over sexual glance- this man was staring at you almost as though you were his favorite person in the whole world. Like you were some celebrity that he was finally getting to meet after years of idolization. It was wholly unsettling. 

“I’m actually not here for any of that.” Your face paled, and all you could do was pray that a robber wasn’t halfway through your open door. “I was actually headed up the mountain to go hiking? But I must have turned onto your drive instead. I’ve got an ole’ piece of shit beater, and it broke down on the way back down the mountain. Can I use your phone, darlin’? Just to call a friend.” His southern accent was thicker than Mr Swanson’s, and there was something about that Texan drawl that disarmed you. It made you feel like he was someone kind and trustworthy. 

“Yeah- of course. People get lost up this mountain all the time. Here, come on in.” You took a step back into the house, your mind far from accepting of the possible dangerous circumstances. It was nineteen sixty-nine, so what was the worst thing that could happen? Not to mention that the man looked like he understood the way that you lived your life. He seemed free spirited, what with his outlandish sense of style. “Our phone is right in the living room.” You called out to him, your bare feet creaking on the old hardwood floors as you made your way down the hall. Tex took his time looking around the house, his palms beginning to sweat as he realized how close he finally was to you. He could finally tell the exact color of your eyes, and smell the incense coming off of your long, wild locks. He loved you more than he could express in words. 

The rugs on the floor looked handmade, like someone had tied a bunch of silk scarves together. They felt plush under his boots as he made his way down the hall and into the living room. The southerner had spent a lot of time watching you from just outside that living room window. He could see his hiding spot where he stood now, just behind a thick patch of trees and brush, far off from your driveway just in case your roommates got any late night visitors. The house smelled like patchouli, nag champa and whatever you were currently cooking on the stove. Though of course this wasn’t the first time that he had been inside of your home. He had made visits from time to time when no one was home, eagerly shoving keepsakes into his pockets that you wouldn’t miss.

You and your friends didn’t spend much time watching tv, but there was a small television set up in the corner. He could tell that you had quite the record collection, but now that he was finally in the home, he saw that there were crates everywhere. “You like the blues?” He asked, bending down so that he could leaf through a few of the vinyls that you had right beside the telephone. You blinked a few times, almost in shock that he was going through your things before you relented, looking almost shy. 

“Yeah, don’t you?” Tex froze, taking a steadying breath so that he could gather up the strength he needed to look at you head on again. You were so beautiful that it hurt him to see you this close up. He didn’t think that it was possible to fall deeper in love with you, but he was. . 

“Me? I love rhythm and blues. You’ve got a nice collection here too. I see ya like Neil Young. . . he’s a real nice guy; a buddy of mine, actually.” Tex was stalling, and he knew it. Either he made an excuse and left the house now or he took this opportunity and brought you back home with him. He risked another glance up at your face, tracing your plush bottom lip, and then making his way up to your large doe eyes. Another stab of guilt hit him when he realized just how much you trusted him at this moment. He’d teach you how to protect yourself later, but for now he thanked God for your innocence. You were his sweet, naive baby. He’d take good care of you from now on. 

He reached out and picked up the phone, holding it against his ear as he stared at the dial pad. For a few seconds you thought that maybe he was trying to remember the right number, but there was something blank in his stare that made you begin to feel uneasy. Unsafe. Your heart picked up, pounding away in your ears as you shuffled in your spot, trying to soothe yourself by running your foot along the shag rug you had set up in the living room. 

“A-Aren’t you gonna use the phone?” You finally asked, motioning to it with your hand. 

Before you could drop your arm back down to your side he was gripping your wrist, yanking you down towards him. You barely had enough time to scream before you were lurching forward. The phone made a shrill sound as Tex threw the receiver to the ground, yanking hard at the cord to tear it out of the wall. The second that you were on the ground, Tex was moving to straddle you, trying his best to calm you with his words. “I’m not gonna hurt you, darlin’. You’ve just gotta calm down.” He tried, grabbing your wrists in one of his large hands while he fought to tie the phone cord around them to bind you. 

Your beautiful features were twisted with fear, tears pouring down your cheeks as you came to the hard realization that you had been betrayed. That you had chosen to trust the handsome stranger and that you had been an idiot in doing so. Tex watched in real time as you realized that your own innocence had been your downfall. He wanted to tell you that he wanted you to hold on to those rose colored glasses of yours. The hurt that he saw in your eyes made him want to stop what he was doing, or even turn the gun that he had burning a hole in his side on himself. He was hurting you. Tex was hurting you. 

The fear felt like it was going to eat you up alive. You could barely fill your lungs with enough air to keep yourself conscious, your loud sobs and screams tearing up from your throat only to be muffled by his hand. The stranger allowed you to buck and kick from underneath him, his hips moving with your body almost as though you were a bull trying to catapult him off. He must have had a lot of experience riding horses, because he stayed anchored to you, his solid weight crushing into your much tinier form. The long haired man flinched when your small foot made contact with a lamp on a nearby table, listening to the glass shatter behind him. 

“You’re evil!” You bit out at him, briny tears slipping past your lips and into your mouth. 

“Pure evil. Practically the devil. But I’m an angel where you’re concerned, so you better stop tryin’a kick’ me or else, lil lady.” 

Still, he kept trying his best to shush you, whispering sweet nothings to you that you weren’t quite ready to hear or understand. Finally, after what felt like hours of tirelessly trying to fight him off, you succumbed to your aching muscles. You sucked in gulps of air, shaking like a leaf as he smoothed your hair off of your sweaty forehead, cooing to you gently. 

“I’m not gonna hurt ya, pretty girl. I’m not going to do anythin’ bad to ya, alright? I just want ya to come home with me.” And then it all made sense. Things started to click into place. 

You’d felt like someone had been watching you for weeks, but any time you looked out the window or flicked the porch light on there would be no one there. Your roommates had tried to tell you that you were being paranoid, and while a part of you wanted to give up and tell them that they were right, you had known that something just wasn’t right. You didn’t want to ask him if he had been watching you. You were too scared to hear him say it- not like you needed to hear the answer anyway. You already knew. Deep down you knew that he had been trailing you for weeks. For what purpose? You weren’t quite sure of that yet. 

You pressed your cheek against the carpet, closing your eyes tightly as he slowly climbed off of you. He wanted to make sure that you weren’t going to hurt yourself with all of the glass on the floor. He hovered above you for a few seconds, making sure that you were done putting up a fight before breezing through the house, acting almost as though he owned the place. If there was ever a time to try and get up, now would be that time. You refused to die without putting up a fight. So once he was off of you and looking around the house, no doubt for something to probably tie your legs up with, you fumbled to sit up, pulling at your arms with all of your might. The plastic wires didn’t bend or break at all, and so you were left to pull yourself up with great difficulty, hissing softly in pain as broken pieces of glass embedded themselves into your bare legs. You were tired, terrified, and now injured. This didn’t stop you from stumbling up and onto your feet, breathing heavily as you made your way down the hall as quietly as you could, the front door in sight. Maybe you could run down the driveway and out onto the road, praying that someone in their car might see or hear you screaming for help. It was worth a shot. You’d almost made it to the screen door when you heard a very soft clicking noise directly behind you. You’d heard the sound in enough western films to know that it belonged to a weapon. Specifically an old revolver. Something with enough power to blow a hole straight through you. 

“I was tryin’ to be nice, honey. Now I know you’re not the type to go ‘round takin’ advantage of others kindness.” Kindness. You heard his voice right behind you, your muscles tensing as you realized that the only chance you had was now gone. This was it. Either you died right here or did as he said. 

Of course you didn’t know that he was madly in love with you. How could you know that? The gun was merely a prop, something that he had brought to scare you, and if there happened to be a confrontation at the house while he was getting you, he would use it to protect both you and himself. Even if you managed to run out of the house, he would have never shot you. Not in a million years. You could do anything you wanted to him, and he still wouldn’t raise a hand to you. Besides, even if you somehow managed to get yourself free, Tex knew that he could outrun and overpower you in seconds. You had absolutely no chance of escape. He just needed to scare you enough to get you into the car with him, and from the looks of it you seemed to be absolutely petrified already. He watched your legs buckle underneath you, eyes wide and watery as you stared at him. 

“A-Are you gonna kill me, sir.” Maybe it was the way you looked at him like he had deeply betrayed you, or the fact that you had tears running down your cheeks. Perhaps it was the way your voice broke as you tried to speak, sounding far more innocent than anything or anyone Tex deserved to put his filthy hands on. Whatever it was, Tex felt like he was going to burst into tears right along with you. 

He blinked them away, quickly shaking his head in the hopes of alleviating your fears. “I promise you that I will not hurt you or let you be hurt by anyone else. I just gotta have you, is all.” 

Your shaky legs weren’t able to keep yourself up anymore. You were cut up and your muscles felt like jello from all of the constant kicking and jerking from earlier. The pure, unadulterated terror had filled your joints with cement. You had fought as hard as you could, and it still had been nowhere enough. You had seen movies in the past where girls were kidnapped or held for ransom, and you felt horrible now for ever thinking that they didn’t fight half as hard as they should have during those scenes. Because you must have looked the exact same way they did. Kicking and flailing without any real rhyme or reason, praying that your legs or fists might connect with something to make him back off of you. Now here you were, battered and bruised- and the worst part was that it was all your own fault. He really had stayed true to his word. He hadn’t hurt you at all, save for the fact that he had bound your wrists so tightly that it felt like it was cutting off your circulation. 

You looked up at him like he wasn’t speaking English at all. To you he might as well have been speaking in tongues. He had to have you? He noticed your confusion instantly. Tex had all of your mannerisms downpat already. You two might as well have been lovers for years. He studied you much like a devout catholic might study the holy bible. Front to back. No page left unturned. Every twitch of your nose, pout of your lips, and twinkle in your eyes didn’t go unnoticed by him. He wanted to massage the small line that was appearing between your furrowed brows, and now that he had you bound and weakened, he was finally able to. Tex let out a breathy sound that sounded like a sigh of relief to your ears as he pressed his thumb in between your eyes, rubbing out the worry lines that had appeared on your adorably scrunched up face. Your skin was hot, sticky with sweat under his hands. He was practically buzzing as he made the realization that he was touching you. . . touching you so nonchalantly. He’d be able to do this from now on too. 

“Ya see… I’ve been watchin’ your house for some time now. I came for Charlie but stayed for myself.” He told you this almost as though he was telling you that it was going to be overcast tomorrow. Not a lick of shame. 

At the mention of another man’s name your terror began to mount. Why did he want you? What would you be used for? Were there multiple men in on this kidnapping? Were your roommates in any danger? It was almost as though Tex could read your mind, quickly getting down on his knees in front of you, grabbing your shoulder in one strong hand. You noticed the scratches on them, the veins visible, twisting up his strong forearms. You immediately made the connection to the briar patches in the wooded area around you. 

“No one else will have anythin’ to do with ya, alright? Like I said darlin’, i ain’t gonna let nothin’ touch ya.” But you weren’t sure that you believed him. 

For a minute or two you both just looked at each other. He was willing you to trust him and you were willing him to let you go. His handsome features weren’t lost on you. Even despite the hell that he was bound to put you through, you couldn’t help but look up at him and see a beautiful face. Pillow plush lips, big blue eyes framed by thick lashes, and a body that both towered over you and easily overpowered you. He had slung you around like a ragdoll earlier. Like you weighed nothing more than a bag of downing feathers. 

He was oleander; both beautiful and deadly. 

Tex had left you alone for far too long. You had busied yourself with following the shapes and designs of his crumpled comforter with your eyes, hoping that it would fight off the panic and horror that was beginning to grip at your lungs. You still felt shaky, like at any moment you might break down into some unsalvageable fragment of your once carefree self. You readied yourself for the madness, but it didn’t come. No matter how hard you tried to disassociate from your current plane of existence, no relief was awarded. Whatever commune or “family” that Tex had dragged you into was one of labyrinthian complexity. He had parked his rickety car right in front of the farm, which happened to be not far from your very own home. It made you think that perhaps he had seen you driving home one day and had felt compelled to follow you onto your little safehaven of land. 

The girls and you had joked about it being your own little slice of heaven. A paradise. All the four of you had to do was look after the land and make sure that no one looted the house. Debbie’s father was a very kind and very rich man who never made a fuss about taking care of all of you. He had been born and raised in North Carolina; a man that had been brought up on good southern values. He loved his daughter more than anything, and so he always saw you as family. You had been there for Debbie when they had first moved to California, a fast made friend all the way back in high school. Your heart squeezed uncomfortably in your chest, aching to the point where you were sure that it might just pop in your small heaving chest as you began to imagine what Debbie might be feeling right about now. You always took such good care of her. Loved her and your other friends like sisters. They were probably in a frenzy, calling up all of your friends to see who might have been there with you. Who might have hurt you. 

All Tex had told you before sitting you down on his bed was that he had to talk to Charlie. Had to explain things to him and then all would be well. That must have been thirty minutes ago now. You had only caught a glimpse of the group of misfits on your way up the stairs to his room. Most of them looked high out of their minds. You recognized that glazed look in their eyes. You were all about people joining hands and living as one, but this wasn’t that. This was something strange all together. This was something so completely other that your brain couldn’t quite define what it was that you were thinking or feeling. All you knew for a fact was that alarm bells were sounding off in your head in a steady stream of white hot noise. You had seen a man that you thought might be Charlie. Three girls were practically laid out on top of him when you and Tex had walked through the front door.. One had been playing with his scraggly hair, the two others rolling what might be a smoke, but you knew was probably dope. 

You didn’t tend to judge when it came to couples like that. You’d seen your fair share of “free love” at festivals. Most polyamorous couples stuck to themselves, nothing more than good and honest people who had a little too much love in their hearts. There was something odd about the damn near robotic way the girls were fawning over that man though. Almost like they felt as though they needed to take care of him. Like they were nothing more than servants. Just homely little wives that were born and bred to fuck, feed, and fawn over him. You hoped that this wasn’t something that Tex expected of you. You hoped that in a few days he’d change his mind and bring you back. You already had a speech ready: If you take me back now I won’t tell anybody what I’ve seen or what you’ve done. I’ll just lie and say that I got a bad phone call and had to blow off steam for a few days. 

The sad thing was that your friends would probably believe that lie. Your home life has been one of constant disappointment and misery. No one would ever question Tex, and you sure as hell didn’t want to get yourself mixed up with the cops. Whatever was happening on this ranch was bad news. Really bad news. 

“Little lady?” Your sore muscles tightened again, wide eyes instantly flashing back over towards the closed door. It was Tex. His accent set him apart from everybody else. Made him memorable. 

He looked even taller than you remembered him being now that his back was pressed up against the doorway. He was quick to slip in, closing the door behind him. He seemed happy about something, and it unnerved you to no end. He was smiling at you almost as though he had just won the lottery. 

“Charlie said that you’re welcome here,” He purred out, striding towards you confidently before crouching down on his knees, placing one of his hands on your thigh as he spoke, acting as though the two of you had known each other for years. “You’re part of the family now, which means you don’t have to worry. No one is gonna hurt ya or try to take ya from me.” 

Your heart jumped, lodging itself in your throat. You felt light headed. His smile slowly fell, his blue eyes rounding a bit as he stood up hurriedly, laying you back against the mattress. His hands shook as he grabbed your calves, situating you on the bed so that he could pull the comforter up and over you. His sheets smelled like fresh ivory soap, sweat and man. Your vision was tunneling and your teeth chattering. What little hope you had that this delusional man would take you back home was gone. No. . . he didn’t look even the least bit nervous about taking you. What timidness he had shown during the drive up to the ranch must have been about whether or not Charlie’s reaction to your presence would be negative. Now that the confrontation was out of the way he seemed fit as a fiddle and right as rain. 

“Your lips are turning white. . . y-you okay, honey?” He was rubbing your arms up and down through the fabric of the comforter, your skin pulling uncomfortably at your wrists where you were still bound. “Come on. Speak to me. I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s wron-” 

It was the utter audacity of the stranger that turned your nerves into rage. You felt it building up, the heart aching sadness morphing into some big, ugly beast that you didn’t recognize in yourself. “What’s wrong? I-I was just attacked in my own home and kidnapped. Now you’ve got me tied up in a house with a bunch of weirdos-” His large hand was quick to cover your mouth, his eyes narrowing on your face before turning towards the door quickly. He must have been nervous of someone overhearing you.

When his friends got their feelings hurt they usually blew the offender’s head off or slit their throats in their sleep. You tried to speak through his calloused hand, but he only pressed down harder, your lips digging uncomfortably into your teeth. His hand smelled of sweat, men's cologne and grass. Judging by his boots and dirt stained pants he had probably been working out in the yard before he had come for you. “Those weirdos have short tempers, darlin’. If someone hurts you. . .  then i’ll react with violence myself, and I don’t wanna make an enemy outta any of em’. Do you understand what I’m tryna say?” 

You didn’t understand exactly what he was saying… aside from the fact that he had just told you- in a rather roundabout way- that they were dangerous. You tried to calm down, realizing that panicking and yelling wasn’t going to get you anywhere with the man. You took a few steadying breaths through your nose, nodding your head to let him know that you were catching on to the severity of the situation. Slowly he removed his hand, allowing you to quickly lick your lips and gather your bearings. You could taste his salty sweat on your tongue and fought back the urge to spit. When you looked back up at him, ready to question as to what the hell was really going on, he seemed to be distracted with his hand. The very hand that had just been pressed against your lips. You cleared your throat to get his attention, hoping that you hadn’t ended up biting him by accident. He might have said that he wouldn’t hurt you, but that didn’t mean that you believed it. He seemed to be entranced by the palm that had been pressed against your lips. Before you could question him as to what he could be staring at, he brought his palm up to his mouth. You wanted to voice your disgust as you watched him drag his tongue along his calloused skin to lap up your spit. 

He let his eyes flicker up towards your face, almost like he was daring you to say something. It was almost like he wanted to explain himself. You didn’t want to act too shocked. Didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of getting some kind of reaction out of you. Now that he had removed the jet black cowboy hat from his head you could see his eyes better. They were as blue as a summer midday sky. They looked startlingly bright against his sun kissed skin. You needed to avert your eyes away from his face, especially since he was still licking at his palm, seemingly to get every remnant of what had been left over from your mouth. The heated eye contact that he was making with you whilst doing that had you nearly shivering as a result. It was startling. Grotesque. He was staring at you like he wanted to devour you. Like he wished it was your own mouth that he was lapping at instead. Or maybe even. . . 

You tightened your thighs on impulse, blinking wildly to rid yourself of the image that your panicked brain had conjured up. 

“W-What is your name?” You needed to work your way from the ground up, you could tell. He wasn’t about to volunteer sensitive information straight away. At least. . . you didn’t think that he trusted you that much yet. 

His face fell, his hand falling limply on top of your legs as it finally dawned on him that you didn’t even know his name. You really did no nothing about him. How ridiculous it was of him to forget. “Tex. Tex Watson.” He cleared his throat before letting his eyes bounce around the room, his cheeks getting a bit pinker as he continued. “I-I mean people call me Tex. I’d prefer it if you called me that too.” Which meant that Tex probably wasn’t his real name. Ah- there it was. The shame in his eyes. The sudden realization that you knew nothing about him, yet here he was, talking to you like you were long time lovers. Touching you like it was all he had been doing for years. 

The self reflection was gone just as soon as it had come though, a gleeful damn near smirk soon pulling at his lips. “Ask me anythin’ you want.” Perhaps he wanted you to ask about the happenings of the ranch. Maybe he enjoyed the fear that it was instilling in you. 

“What is this place?” You tried to keep your voice steady and school your face into an expression of slight indifference. If he was just playing with you like a cat would a mouse, the last thing you wanted to do was give him what he wanted. Maybe he would kill you quicker if you helped him play out whatever sick fantasy this was, and you couldn’t have that. Still though, you couldn’t help but find his behavior out of the ordinary for someone who might just want to kill you. No matter how terrified you were, you were beginning to believe him. He wasn’t going to kill you. He just wanted to keep you. Stare at you. Possibly even love you. It was odd, and to your sane and sound mind this was the farthest thing from normal, but if you had any hope of getting out of here alive and in one piece, you had to play along. 

“We call ourselves a family- one that you’re now’a part of,” He placed a hand on your cheek, and you couldn’t keep yourself from flinching, your body giving in to it’s natural instinct to evade his touch. If he noticed he didn’t seem to mind. He ran his thumb against your cheek, marveling at how soft it was. He was beginning to feel a bit more greedy with his touches. “But Charles looks after all of us. We have a divine purpose on this earth. You do too. I knew it from the very first second that’a laid eyes on ya. Ya were destined to be my wife.” 

You found out a lot about the family and it’s dynamic. Charles was the leader and they- the people that you had seen downstairs- were his followers. Most of the women in the family were romantically involved with the man in charge, and they called themselves his “wives”. The more Tex spoke, the faster you realized that this place was less of a group of friends and more of some sort of a religious cult. They seemed to believe that it was their duty to help and bring on the apocalypse. From what you could remember of the countless brainwashing bible camps that your parents had forced you to attend, the apocalypse was supposed to not only be the end of the world as everyone knew it, but the end of the human race. No one evaded death. The good went to heaven and the bad suffered and went to hell. 

Did this mean that Tex and the rest of his “family” members wanted people to die? Did they do any killing?  It was all very strange and very confusing. You pried a little bit more about Tex and how he fit into the hierarchy of the family. He seemed to be high up on the totem pole, stating that the only person that he answered to was Charles himself. You asked whether or not he had any other wives, but he was quick to try and “alleviate your fears”, letting you know that he strictly practiced monogamy. 

You asked him questions until the sun set behind your beloved mountain, the two of you now talking in a dark room. He offered to feed you, bringing back a plate of dinner that one of Charlie’s “wives” had prepared for the entire ranch, but you declined. You were positive that if you tried to eat anything that it would come right back up. He had hesitantly accepted the fact that you were in no state to eat, finishing the plate of food himself. 

Getting to know Tex did nothing to deaden your fears. If anything, you felt terrified for your well being far more than you had before. He was absolutely unhinged, but the fact that his friends were ten times worse was crystal clear. As long as you laid low in the house and stuck to Tex like glue, it sounded like you would be able to slip right under the radar. There was no way you were going to get off of the ranch by yourself, so you needed help. You needed Tex’s help to do that, so you needed to get on his good side sooner rather than later. You couldn’t afford to have a mental breakdown- not yet at least. You could scream and cry after you were home safe. 

After he had told you his entire life story he seemed content enough to place his hands on his knees, standing up with a small groan before heading towards the ensuite bathroom. Being left alone, even if he was just in the other room, made your body lock up in terror. You were able to shyly ask him through your nervous cottonmouth whether or not he’d be willing to let you sit in the bathroom with him. He seemed to hesitate but gave in regardless. It wasn’t until the both of you were standing under the bright fluorescent lights in the bathroom that he finally realized how horrible your bound hands looked. They were practically white from the lack of circulation. “God damn it, baby! Why didn’t you tell me ‘bout this?” He was quick to exclaim, hurriedly reaching into the back pocket of his pants and pulling out a pocket knife. You were unable to keep from letting out a small shriek, backing up against the bathroom sink as tightly as you could. He threw his free hand up in what seemed to be exhaustion and annoyance. 

“I just rattled on for ages about how I was meant to marry ya, and you think imma hurt you? Stop fussin’ so much, alright? You’re safe. I’ve got ya. I have the means to protect ya, so nothin’ is gonna happen.” With that being said he closed the gap between your bodies, shoving the knife under the tightly wrapped cord and pulling, hacking away binds. 

The second that the blood started rushing back to your hands you felt a sharp sting. You flinched and tried desperately to get your fingers to move. Tex closed the pocket knife, shoving it back in his back pocket before reaching out for your hands, rubbing at the sore skin with his thumbs. It felt like you had ducked your hands into a pocket of spiders, your nerves twitching and coming back to life. After making sure that you were alright, Tex stood up a little straighter, nodding his head towards the bathroom door. 

“I don’t like threatenin’ you, honey, but you need to know that if you leave this room without me there will be consequences.” His hands moved to his shirt as he spoke to you, slipping it off without any hesitation in front of you. You were quick to avert your eyes as his hands moved down to his pants, biting down on your lower lip as you tried to keep yourself from screaming yet again. How could he ever think that this was normal? 

“You can look if you want,” He was still standing right in front of you, his deep voice still sounding just as close. “It’s all yours.” 

It’s not like you had never had sex before, but it was infrequent enough for the shame of this entire situation to redden your cheeks and ears. Your roommates weren’t opposed to sleeping with friends or strangers on a regular basis, and while you never judged them for what they did, you weren’t the kind of person to involve yourself with someone you didn’t know well enough. You half expected Tex to try and coerce you, but the second he saw the look on your face he turned the shower on, climbing in and closing the curtain tight behind him. 

“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have undressed in front of ya. That was wrong of me.” That was the most regretful that you’d heard him sound this entire time. “I just. . . I just love ya so much. It’s very hard to control myself, but I will. You don’ have to be afraid of me.” But you were. Terrified. Petrified even. You didn’t answer him. 

“I know that eventually you’ll come ‘round. You’ll see. You’re mine and I’m yours, and isn’t that how it’s supposed to be between a married couple?” You had dropped your head into your hands as you sat down on the counter, your feet dangling above the floor. You didn’t have the energy left to be shocked. 

“Married?” Your voice came out more even than you expected it to. 

“Spiritually, at least. We’ve been tethered since our very inception. That’s what Charlie told me at least, and I believe him.” But you sure as hell didn’t. 

Much like you had done with the comforter just hours ago, you laid awake on your back, eyes staring up at the ceiling. You tried to find any cracks or imperfections with your eyes, making unnecessary note of each one. Tex, though he had stayed true to his word the entire night and hadn’t hurt nor forced himself upon you, had insisted that you sleep with him in his room. He had given you space, scooting back far enough on the bed to where only your feet touched under the blanket. You’d be lying if you didn’t think about making a run for it, and he had made sure to let you know that staying with him would be safer than running into his friends downstairs. It wasn’t exactly a threat, but sure as hell felt like one. You hadn’t been able to fully relax until you heard his breathing even out, risking a glance over at him once you were absolutely certain that he had fallen asleep. 

Once again, the duality of him was on full display. It was difficult- damn near impossible- to imagine someone that looked like he did to do such a thing. How could he kidnap anyone when he looked like an angel? He had held you at gunpoint not even five hours ago, yet here he was, lashes gently fluttering as he dreamed. The gentle slope of his nose was nuzzled against his dark green pillow case, and the hair that was still wet from his shower was sticking to his cheeks. Now that his blue eyes were closed you were able to see just how thick his lashes were, even in the pale moonlight. The worst part was how innocent he looked. You hated him, but there was a small part of you that didn’t want to. 

Was the crime that he committed a good indication that he had mental health issues? Was he someone that should be pitied rather than detested? Still, he was articulate and had a way with storytelling. He seemed intelligent and calculated with his thoughts and decisions. 

You spent the rest of the night like that, staring up at the ceiling and trying to come up with excuses for his bad behavior. You had drifted off a few times, but startled awake whenever you felt his large body shift closer to yours, unused to sleeping next to someone. Your body was on high alert, sensitive to everything around you. 

These anxieties bled into your daily life on the ranch. The more days passed though, the less afraid you were that you were going to be hurt. Rather you became hyper aware of Tex rather than just the things around you. Tex’s friends didn’t seem very interested in talking to you, not even during dinner. 

Their loud voices blended in with the constant music pouring out of the media system in the living room. The Beatles, Neil Young and The Beach boys became the soundtrack to your everyday life. You weren’t mad about the incessant background noise either. It was in the dead of night when no one was awake to flip the vinyl that things got eerie. Silence became your worst enemy. You’d wake up in the dead of night to the dull crackling downstairs from the speakers, all of your newest fears at the forefront of your mind. Tex got closer to you as the days passed. He was testing the waters and chipping away at your resolve. You’d lost the fight that you once had, so you no longer pushed away his arms when he pulled you into a hug. He loved to be touching you at all times. Whether it was him brushing his hand against yours, placing your thighs over his lap when the two of you were in the living room, or even pressing his nose against the back of your head as you both slept so that he could breathe in your scent. You’d never had a serious boyfriend in your life, and to be touched constantly at all hours of the day made you feel confused and conflicted. 

It also didn’t help that Tex wasn’t exactly a monster. He had asked to kiss you a few times as the days passed by, and all it took was a shake of your head for him to give up. Anything farther than fleeting touches were off limits to him. Even when you felt his hands shaking with need as they brushed over your thighs, he never pushed you. He never took too much from you. It was easy to fall into a pattern of monotony. Tex would wake up early to feed the animals, letting you sleep in when exhaustion was still melting you into the mattress. Then breakfast was served, oftentimes you helped the other girls wordlessly. You used to cook for your girls everyday, so the task made you feel normal. Like your life hadn’t just been torn from you. Then you and Tex would drift into the living room and listen to music with Charlie and the rest of the group. The way that they all spoke to one another just seemed like a close knit group of friends shooting the shit to most, but you knew that there were secret codes and heavy meanings between each nod of their head or odd hand movement. Tex might have loved you, but that didn’t mean that he planned to tell you everything about his life. 

The group rarely called you by your name. They’d assigned you little nicknames, which was supposed to make you feel more comfortable around them. Tex also had a habit of referring to you as “the ole’ lady”, which you didn’t hate half as much as you should have. 

“Why are you so against me dyin’ my hair?” He spoke up from his spot on the corner of the tub, picking at a small hole on his bell bottoms as he waited for you to get started. He had been wearing the same shirt that you had worn yesterday before he had shrugged it off and over his head, not wanting to stain it. That was another thing that made you homesick. The group liked to share clothes. 

You were clutching the bottle to your chest, glaring at the back of his head as you tried to come up with an answer. “I just don’t think black hair is going to look good on you, is all.” You grumbled, quickly evading his eyes as he turned his head to face you with a smirk. 

“So. . . what yer’ tellin’ me is that’cha like my natural hair color? S’ that it?” Damn him and his dumb accent. Damn him and his big blue eyes. Damn him. 

Instead of answering you simply reached out, giving his hair a quick tug. You were trying to be mean to him and to get him to stop his teasing, but you being the one to initiate the touching must have caught him off guard. He let out a loud yelp, the sound echoing around the tiled bathroom. A few seconds afterwards you heard a shuddered breath slip past his lips, and the sound made you clench your jaw. His hands moved out to grip the sides of the porcelain tub until his knuckles were white, the muscles of his bare back tightening. There it was again. The tension was often unbearable between the two of you. Your passionate distaste for him had shifted into a passionate “something”. You just couldn’t pinpoint what it could possibly be. What it could mean for you. The fact that you could even tolerate the asshole wasn’t right. It made you think of your mother, who loved your father despite the constant hell he put her through. 

All men had ever done was disappoint you and let you down. Tex, while he had done something awful to you and had hurt you, was always so soft with you. He did things without having to be told. He looked out for you. He tucked you in at night. He looked at you almost as though you were the only woman on the entire planet. He couldn’t get enough of you. He never stopped telling you how much he loved you, and you believed him. Maybe you were just as sick in the head as he was, because you believed that he loved you. When he said that there was no one else out there for him, you knew that he was telling the truth. It was because of this constant attention that you found it hard to deny yourself of the urge to explore. There was this insanely bratty part of yourself that wanted to test him and his devotion for you. 

You stared down at his chocolate brown hair for a few more seconds, rubbing your fingers against a few fine strands before saying your final goodbye to his natural color. “Don’t cry to me when you look ridiculous though.” You tried to sound cold, but really just sounded like a nagging girlfriend. He didn’t seem to mind. You could hear him chuckling softly, his eyes glued to the yellow shower tiles in front of him. It didn’t take you long to apply the black dye, tossing the applicator in the trash once you were finished. His sudden urge to dye his hair confused you to no end, but very little of what Tex did made complete sense. 

“How long do ya think I should leave this in for?” He finally asked, standing up inside of the tub and stretching out his long arms up and over his head as he waited for your answer. You watched the muscles in his shoulders tense, his biceps bulging ever so slightly with the movement. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed you staring, but you turned away from him to wash your hands at the sink before he could say anything. 

“Uh. . . probably twenty minutes, I’d think.” You had gotten a few specks of dye on your wrists and palm, and no matter how hard you scrubbed at the skin with soap it didn’t want to wash out. Tex seemed to stain you that very same way. He had tainted you- did something fucked up to your mind, and now you were different. You felt damn near brainwashed at this point. You’d never be the same. He’d stuck himself right onto you, and no matter how badly you wanted him off, he wasn’t leaving. 

You scrubbed at your palm until your hand was raw, Tex being the one to walk over to the sink and turn off the water. You dared a glance up at him, looking through your lashes. His eyebrows were drawn together in confusion at your odd behavior. You did this every now and again. It was almost as though you were too stuck in your own mind to really understand what was going on around you. This was one of those times. 

“You’re gonna make yourself bleed, honey.” He took your palm in his hand, covering it with his unstained fingers. 

You dared to look up at him, taking in his face against the black inky locks that hung down around him. You had smoothed the hair off of his face and neck so as to not stain him. You weren’t sure why you had been so gentle and considerate with him, but you had been. You weren’t sure if you regretted it either. He didn’t look half bad with black hair, and that made you want to rub at your skin even harder. If anything he still looked just as great. His eyes were such a vibrant shade of blue now that you found it hard to look away. If someone wanted to paint Tex, all they needed to do was grab a true shade of blue and mix it with a little white- they were so pretty that it was unnatural. 

You snatched your hand out of his grip, clearing your throat before backing out of the room. You needed to escape and fast. Something registered in his eyes. They widened a bit, his lips parting in silent shock. You wanted to play dumb. You wanted to ask him what had his stupid jaw on the floor, but you knew that he had made a vital, fucking dangerous realization. 

He finally realized that you were attracted to him. 

Not just in passing, but as someone that you were beginning to enjoy being around. The kind of attraction that often resulted in dating in the normal, real world. You didn’t want to give him any time to mull over it either. If Tex said something to you, you weren’t sure whether or not you could answer him without sacrificing a vital part of yourself. The part of yourself that had been keeping you safe the last few weeks. The part of yourself that had shielded you from the fact that no one had come looking for you on the ranch. No one probably thought that you were really gone. Was your mother worried that you hadn’t called? Did your father even really care? 

You sat in the bedroom alone for the next fifteen minutes, pacing back and forth next to the bed. Now that the shower was running, you knew that he would be unable to stop you from looking through his things. Your fear of being caught had been too great up until this point, but the self loathing made you bold. Most of his drawers were filled with pants, jackets, and shirts. You riffled through them and found nothing out of the ordinary. His bedside table was a little more exciting, but only because you had found drugs. He had a few novels shoved in, along with what you knew had to be tabs of acid. It wasn’t until you ducked your head underneath the bed that you finally found what you had been expecting to find all along. 

That revolver along with box after box of ammunition. Your hands shook as you reached under the bed to grab the weapon, swallowing thickly as you held it up in front of you to get a better look at it. This was the same one that Tex had pointed at you the day that he took you. It was odd to see it up close, and even more odd that you were the one holding it. Not once in your life had you ever shot a gun, but you could probably find out through trial and error. How hard could it be, right?

 There were other weapons underneath his bed that made your heart pound. Ropes and knives among other things that you couldn’t bear to stare at for too long. But then, further back, there was a shoebox that felt out of place amongst the other things. Setting the gun down you reached out, biting your lip as you dragged it out from underneath the bed as well, looking anxiously at the bathroom door. You were past the point of feeling guilty for prying. You tossed the lid off, your face paling instantaneously. Pictures. Pictures of your old kitchen, living room, and bedroom. You were in every single one, either smiling at something one of the girls had said or busying yourself with a task. Most of the photos weren’t so innocent though. No- There were pictures of you naked in front of your bedroom window, getting ready for bed. Your breasts were on full display as you looked out the window. You remembered those nights. You remembered how uncomfortable you had felt in your own home, almost as though someone was watching you. You tore the photos out, flipping through them with trembling fingers. What was underneath the photos was worse. Ten times worse. A hundred times worse. 

Panties. Panties that you had worn and thrown into the dirty clothes weeks ago, only for them to go missing. You let out a small whimper when you grabbed a pair, holding them up in front of you just to check. Just to see if he had done anything. You regretted it the second that you saw the stain. “Oh my god. . .” You threw them back into the box, pushing the pictures under the bed with hurried hands. 

There it was. The truth. All laid out in front of you. 

Maybe he wasn’t ever going to kill you, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t a killer. If the cops came out here looking for him, you were sure that you’d be roped in with the lot of them. You would be seen as nothing more than another one of those hippies that runs off and joins a cult. You stood up and off of the ground, the gun still clasped tightly in your hand. You were shaking so badly that you weren’t sure how you were even able to keep hold of the thing. Has anything he told you about himself been the truth, or had he been lying this entire time? Spinning this huge web of stories just to catch you, waiting until you were completely tangled up just to sink his fangs into you. Were you hyperventilating? Were you crying? You slapped a hand against your cheek, wiping at the soft skin there. Sure enough you were in full blown hysterics. 

Here it was. The long awaited mental breakdown. 

Had you really been sleeping in a house with murderers this entire time? Sitting at the dinner table and breaking fucking bread with them all? You stumbled over towards the bedroom door, creaking it open to pop your head out and listen out for Charlie and his other followers. Someone was playing an acoustic guitar downstairs, all of them probably reading the bible and coming up with more religious nonsense to fuel their evil intentions. You let your eyes flicker to the bannister just down the hall that led out to the kitchen, trying to map out just how long it would take you to sneak your way through the kitchen door. You’d gone through that creaky door enough to know that everyone in the house would hear it open. You’d have to outrun men who had far longer legs than you. Even with the gun, you weren’t quite sure you could make it down the mountain to your home, or even to the main road. 

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” You gasped so loudly that you nearly coughed, your heart rattling in your chest as you swung around, pointing the gun out with a trembling hand. 

Tex was drying his hair with a towel, his bell bottoms hanging low on his waist, the front unzipped to reveal the hem of his briefs. His plush lips pulled down into a frown as he raised his hands up in surrender. He didn’t look scared. Didn’t look angry. He looked annoyed and exasperated, like he had caught his child sticking their little nose into something that they shouldn’t have. He popped his hip out, putting his weight on one leg as he shook his head back and forth. 

“S’ya were goin’ through my things?” He looked around you at the open door, letting out a small sigh before he took a step forward. You put your finger on the trigger as he began walking closer, your jaw dropping as he rolled his eyes. 

“Stop! I’ll do it. I-I’ll shoot!” Without a second thought he gripped the barrel of the gun, easily angling it upwards and towards the ceiling as he boxed you in with his tall body, pushing the door closed behind you. 

You tried to jerk the gun out of his grasp, but he held on tight, not budging at all. You were boxed in against the door, his hand still pressed against the wood behind you. He leaned in close, his breath fanning over your face as he spoke. “You ain’t gonna do nothin’, lil lady.” 

It wasn’t a challenge. It wasn’t him mocking you. He was saying that he knew that you didn’t have what it takes to hurt him. Sure, you would have been able to shoot and injure him at such short range if you had the guts to actually pull the trigger. There was a chance that if you had shot him that you might have killed him, but there was also the large possibility that you might have missed. The gun was shaking like crazy in your grasp, never once being aimed at any of his vital points. Factually, if the gun had gone off he might have been fine. He also knew you better than you knew yourself. You wouldn’t hurt him. No. . . no. . . not when you liked him so much. 

He gently removed the gun from your grasp, letting out a small sigh as he tossed it onto the dresser with a loud thunking noise. He raked his hands through his soaking wet hair and dropped the towel so that he could give you his full attention. If you had snuck your little ass out of here while he was in the shower? His heart was pounding as he thought about what might have happened. If someone hurt you in the process of your escape, he’d annihilate the entire family without a second thought. He had enough ammunition beneath his bed to start a war. 

Because Tex would have rather died than ever actually hurt you. He couldn’t even imagine your pretty little body completely still, utterly unmoving. The mere idea of you dying, even at the hands of fate, had him nearly doubling over. He could see the way that you eyed the revolver that he had on his dressing table. Your overly tired brain was trying to string together some sort of plan to overpower him in order to get your hands on the weapon. He could practically see the cogs turning. Even if you did succeed in killing him, there was no promise that you would make it off of the ranch alive. Tex had already put himself in the line of fire when he had decided to save you. His own neck was on the chopping block now, and he knew with surety that the other member’s of this cursed family were looking for any reason to slit his throat while he slept. Dying for you, especially after all of the wrong that he had done in his life, seemed like a pretty good way to go. If you killed him before he could get you off of that mountain and as far away from California as he could get you, then you’d be next. A simple revolver, buck knife, and whatever else Tex had in his room wasn’t going to save you from Charlie’s wrath. You were severely outskilled and outnumbered. 

“How about we play a game?” Tex watched you flinch at the sudden sound of his deep voice, your eyes widening as you watched him cross the room to grab the gun. You were quick to back up into the bedside table, arm reaching behind you for something to grab onto. The sight of him holding the gun so nonchalantly by his side reminded you of just how many people might have met their maker at the other end of that thing. Your breath came out of you in deep pants, your legs growing wobbly beneath you as you yanked up the glass lamp, the plug sparking as it was roughly ripped from the wall. 

Tex was quick to hold the hand that had the gun clasped in it in front of you, his fingers off of the trigger. His other arm was out in surrender. He didn’t need you getting glass on the floor unnecessarily, especially if it meant that you might end up cutting yourself by accident. “Hey- hey there, little lady. I’m not gonna hurt you. See?” He opened the chamber, letting the bullets spill out into his hand. The cold metal rattled, and slowly you inched forward, leaning a few inches closer to him so that you could make sure that he wasn’t trying to take you for some sort of fool. 

“Look, honey. I’ve taken all the bullets out.” As if to prove his point the man slapped his palm against the barrel, it clicking back in place. He pulled back the hammer of the gun, aiming it to the ceiling. Click. Shoot. Click. Shoot. Click. Shoot. Nothing. No sheets of plaster rained down on you. No deafening shot echoed through the room. He really had removed all of the bullets. He smiled that straight, white smile at you as he watched your shoulders relax. You refused to die here. You couldn’t do it. You were a nervous wreck, your emotions all over the place. You were so used to men treating you roughly. The no good sort of men that Tex made look like babies. 

The man standing before you, his newly black dyed hair still soaking wet and dripping onto his shoulders, confused you. It was so easy to despise him. He had stalked you with the purpose of killing you. Him forcing you to come with him up to the ranch did you no favors either. He tried to convince you that you were safe with him, but you could hear the other murderers downstairs even now, their loud whoops and laughter making your chest burn and your blood go hot. It was easy to hate him for everything that he had done. He had murdered people, and you weren’t even sure how many. He had ripped your life away from you in the blink of an eye, and tried to manipulate you into believing that it was for the greater good. What you absolutely couldn’t stand was the fact that it was working. Maybe it was because your past relationships with men had shaped and molded you to be the perfect candidate for manipulation. Tex was a horrible person, and he had turned your life completely upside down without any permission to do so. He had taken almost every bit of your free will from you, not allowing you to make your own decisions. 

But no one had ever loved you the way that Tex presumably did. No one had ever looked at you the way that he looked at you. 

“What kind of game?” Your mouth felt like it was going numb, your hip still pressed hard into his bedside table, the lamp clutched in your hand. 

His blue eyes looked startling against his black hair. It was unreal how vibrant they were. They flickered down to your hand, staring at the lamp before he motioned towards his hand that held the bullets with a nod of his head. “It’s called Russian Roulette. Except this time we cut the bullshit and raise the stakes.” 

You knew that if you said no that he would drop the subject. You also knew that, as far as you could tell, that he had no intentions of ever hurting you. “Raise the stakes?” You hated that you were so naturally curious. Your heart was pounding incredibly hard in your chest. You could feel it in your throat. 

He smiled down at his boots, trying his best to hide the sly nature of it from view. He knew that he had you on the hook now that you were asking questions. “Each time we pull the trigger,” he popped a single bullet into the barrel. “And the gun doesn’t go off, we take off an article of clothing.”

You hated him. 

You also hated the fact that you couldn’t find it within yourself to truly hate him. 

Your hands shook as you placed the lamp back down on the wooden table with a clatter, your eyes flickering back up to his. “And what happens once we’re naked, huh? Why not just say that you want to see me naked. You haven’t exactly been a gentleman this entire time.” Your voice was shaking, and he seemed to take advantage of the weak tremor. He knew that all he had to do was calm you down. Lay out the facts all nice and pretty for you so that you can finally make your decision. 

“I do want to see you naked.” He didn’t miss a beat. He didn’t shy away from telling you the truth, because there would be no use in denying it. He had already confessed his feelings. He knew that you felt how stiff he was this morning, pressed up against your side. Tex might be a mass murderer, but he wasn’t a fuckin’ liar. There was very little that the blue eyed man hated more than a filthy liar. “But like I said. . . I think it’s about time that we cut the bullshit. I love chasing after you. We’ve got a fun little game goin’, the two of us.” He motioned between the two of you with the gun, his eyes twinkling as he looked at your face. “But I want you, and I know that you want me.” He took a step closer to you, and if you hadn’t already cornered yourself against the nightstand, then you would have taken a step back. 

Your hand gripped tightly onto the edge of the table, eyes widening as he crossed the room so that he could stand in front of you. He was so close that your chests were touching. The bullets clattered against the wood behind you, but he kept the gun secure in his hand. “There’s just one bullet in the cylinder.” He assured you, angling the gun so that you could see. 

Through all the niceties and gentle touches, you had never stopped reminding yourself that Tex was slightly insane. He had to be a little crazy to join Charlie. This was your first time seeing that part of him. His eyes were wild as they took in the scared expression on your face, almost like he was enjoying your fear. He liked the meek, meager little expression on your face and the way that you had cornered yourself. If only you knew the half of it. If only you knew how turned on he was just by your glassy eyes alone. He wanted to possess you, body and soul. If he could have hollowed out your bones and fit his way inside of them- he would have. 

‘Surely,’ He thought as he looked down at you. ‘No one has ever loved anyone else quite as much as I love her.’ 

“Here, I’ll teach ya how to do it.” He wrapped an arm around your waist, causing you to jump. He could feel your little heart pounding against his side, and it reminded him of a little rabbit. Jumpy, terrified, but just as adorable. “You press this button to release the cylinder,” He demonstrated for you. “And then you spin it. Don’t worry about the bullet coming out. It’s in there snug.” And then he slapped the cylinder back in place, putting the gun in your shaky palm. His large, warm hand swallowed yours up whole as he raised your arm, rubbing your finger so that he could nudge it onto the trigger. “And then you squeeze the trigger.” He raised the gun and your arm up to the side of his head. 

You could have vomited, the fear gripping you so hard that you found it hard to breathe. But there was this strange sensation- a heat pooling in your abdomen as you thought about where this all might lead. You could try to convince yourself that you wanted him to die all you wanted, but the gun against the man’s head was a terrifying sight. Being alone on this ranch would most likely have deadly consequences, but that wasn’t it. That wasn’t the reason why you were so terrified of him dying. The truth was entirely unwelcome: you liked him. God damn it, you actually liked him. 

“I’ll go first.” He stated, not a hint of fear in his eyes. He looked at you hungrily, like he could devour you whole. He pressed his finger down on yours, and in turn you were steadily putting pressure on the trigger. You wanted to say no. Wanted to scream at him to stop and that you changed your mind. You couldn’t find your voice. Your tongue felt swollen in your mouth, your eyes glassy with unshed tears. 

There was a heat pooling between your legs that you felt insanely guilty about. 

Before you knew it the trigger had been pulled completely, a soft click echoing around the silent room. He smiled brightly at you, slowly removing his hand from yours. Your arm fell limply at your side, the gun still in your hand. He had just pulled the trigger and hadn’t even flinched. He could have died, and it would have been nobody else’s fault except for his, and he didn’t seem to care. The danger seemed to rile him up. 

“Looks like I’m safe.” The jean button up shirt that he was wearing was the first article of clothing to come off. His long, nimble fingers made quick work with the buttons. 

You watched as he slipped the faded blue fabric from off of his shoulders, revealing his lean body. His skin was golden from long hours spent outside in the California sun. No matter how skinny he appeared to be in his clothes, you could tell that he was surprisingly strong. The muscles in his arms and shoulders were on full display, his prominent v-line disappearing beneath his jeans. He was beautiful. Truly beautiful. 

You hated him for that too. 

The gun suddenly felt very heavy in your hand, and you remembered that it was now your turn to go. You brought the revolver up, twisting your hand this way and that to take a good look at it. You wanted to prolong this moment. You needed to calm your pounding heart or else you feared that it might stop all together. People could die from fear, right? You sucked in a breath, nearly jumping out of your skin when Tex made a small noise right across from you. It was a breathy sounding groan that felt so out of place during a moment like this. You let your eyes flicker up to his face, noticing his flushed cheeks and parted lips. 

“That gun looks so pretty in your hands, honey.” He licked his lips, motioning towards the gun hurriedly. “Show it to me.” His voice was now barely above a whisper. 

You felt confused yet again, his reactions coming across as unnatural. Here you were, standing before him with a loaded weapon, and he was moaning at the mere sight of you. “You’re crazy.” You whispered, your hand beginning to shake as you raised the gun a little more, nearly pointing it at him. 

His lashes fluttered as he stared at your hand, taking his bottom lip between his teeth so that he could bite down on it. You nearly dropped the weapon when you watched him readjust himself in his jeans, your eyes widening as you finally realized that he was hard. He was actually getting off on all of this. You let your eyes drink in the sight of him for a few more seconds. You traced the shape of him through the pants, trying hard not to dwell on the fact that he appeared large, even through the cloth. 

Slowly, never taking your eyes off of him, you did as you were taught. Your finger pressed against the cylinder release, gave it a good spin, and then slapped it back into place. Tex seemed tense as he watched the cylinder spin, but relaxed when he noticed something that your eyes didn’t. Your hand shook as you brought the gun to your head and pulled back the hammer. 

“You're safe, baby. I wanna see you do it. Pull the trigger.” 

You hated that you trusted him so implicitly. You squeezed down on the trigger, squeezing your eyes shut as your heart continued to pound away in your chest. The clicking sound echoed in your ears, your arm limply falling to your side as the damn near euphoric relief spread through you. It fizzled hot in your blood like champaign, setting every nerve ablaze. At the sight of your heaving chest Tex took a step closer to you, reaching out for the gun. He licked his lips hungrily as he stared at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he took in your relieved expression. The flush on your cheeks was adorable. He took the gun from your shocked form, giving you a few seconds to recuperate before he reminded you of the rules. 

You just stood there staring at him, bubble gum lips parted as you sucked in air. You looked like a deer in headlights, and he wanted to devour you. The need to touch you, any part of you was overwhelming. It had been for weeks. Some nights he only pretended to sleep, just so that he could press himself against you. Feel the gentle rise and fall of your chest under his hand. He wanted to rip you to shreds only to put you back together again, piece by piece. Tex’s adams apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, clenching his jaw as he tried to show restraint. You hadn’t turned him down yet. Not today at least. You wanted this. You were okay with this. 

He had you and he was never going to lose you. He’d keep you locked up and tied down if he had to. And if you ever happened to get away from him, he’d find you. Ohh. . . he’d find you. 

You jerked back in shock as you felt the cold barrel of the gun press against your belly, Tex using it to push the fabric up. You’d been too busy staring at him to remember the rules of the game. Now it was your turn to remove something. 

“Off.” Was all he said, his eyes burning holes into your body. 

You gripped the bottom of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head before tossing it onto the ground. You wanted to hide yourself away from him once you realized that you weren’t wearing a bra. You started to cover yourself up, but stopped as Tex merely shook his head. Don’t hide from me. 

 It was nothing he hadn’t already seen though. The pictures. 

The reminder of them made your stomach tighten, the heat between your legs becoming more prominent. Your face heated up in shame as you finally gave in. You surrendered to the full truth of it all. You couldn’t hide or run from it any longer. There was no escaping it anymore. 

Tex’s devotion turned you on. Tex’s obsession made you feel loved and taken care of and you wanted to fuck him. You’d been attracted to him this entire time, too blinded by your own fear to realize that you were fucked up enough to develop feelings. Maybe it was familial trauma. Maybe it was all of the bad dates you’d been subjected to. Or maybe it was just you. Either way, there it was. All out in the open for you. You weren’t nearly as insane as Tex. You were no killer. You didn’t have it in you to hurt a fly, but his hands were capable. 

He was big and strong. He could protect you. He was begging to let you relinquish your control and let him look after you. You’d never been looked after in your life, and yet here he was, looking at you like you were the messiah. You watched those big, capable hands clench into fists as he took you in. He was trying not to touch you. 

“As soon as you give me the word. . . i’m going to eat you alive.” Those blue eyes were pinning you down, narrowed and heavy and so full of adoration. 

You could feel your slick already pooling in your underwear, your eyes fluttering closed for just a second as you tried to ground yourself. You had to stay steady. You had to play this game with him for just a little longer. He was practically vibrating with need and you wanted to test him. Wanted to see him fall apart before he absolutely destroyed the last bit of sanity you were clinging to. 

He pressed the button, spun the cartridge all while watching it closely and then slammed it closed. He pressed the barrel right back up to his temple, pulling the trigger without flinching. Without blinking. 

“Are ya gonna let me have it?” You couldn’t fully process what he was asking you, just that his accent was sexy and his voice was so deep that it was vibrating in his chest. 

“H-Have what?” You licked your lips, not missing the way he followed your tongue with his eyes. 

He might as well have already been inside of you. Your knees were already starting to buckle and he hadn’t even touched you yet. 

“Your body,” He handed you the gun, pulling his already undone jeans off of his legs. “I already own your soul, but I want it all. I want ya so bad that I nearly came in my pants just seein’ your tits. So are ya gonna give it to me now, or are ya gonna make me wait longer? Cause I can’t take it anymore, darlin’. I can’t keep lovin’ ya the way that I do and not fuck ya.” 

Your eyes flickered back down to his crotch, your mouth filling with saliva as you noticed how hard he was. You could make out the exact shape of him, his length uncomfortably trapped beneath his tight briefs. He was gorgeous. Absolutely perfect. 

And you didn’t answer at first. 

Instead you just played the game. You pressed the button. You spun the cartridge while he watched closely. You slammed it back in place and then you pressed it against your temple. “Let me touch you. Fuck. . . Please let me just touch you.” Click. 

You tossed the gun onto the bed, unbuttoning your own bell bottoms and pulling them down and off of your legs. You kicked them away from you, nodding your head towards the gun so that he would feel inclined to continue himself. He was in disbelief. Not only were you playing along but you seemed to be liking it just as much as he was. How could someone be as perfect as you were? How could you be real? He scooped the gun back up, knowing that there was just one more thing he had left to take off. 

“If I take these off, will you add them to your little collection?” His eyes flickered down to your panties. The pretty pink bow. The lacy red fabric. He turned his attention towards the other side of the bed, realizing that you must have seen every secret that he kept hidden in his room. This turned him on even more. His hips involuntarily jutted forward, meeting nothing but air. 

“F-Fuck. . .” He didn’t have words. He wanted to tease you and make it harder on you, but he could barely function. He was beginning to get scared that if you did let him touch you, that he might hurt you. He might lose himself completely. Tex didn’t mind though. You owned him. He was all yours. 

And so he went through the motions one last time. Button, spin, and shoot. He watched to make sure that he was safe from the bullet, pulling the trigger that one last time. He didn’t let go of the gun this time when he shrugged off his underwear, his cock springing loose. He watched you take him in. You drank in the sight of him, the poor thing practically throbbing with need. He was bigger than anyone else you’d ever been with, and a part of you worried whether or not you’ll actually be able to comfortably take him. His angry red tip was weeping with pre cum, his underwear slick and stained with it as he licked it away from him. That was all it took. 

“Please.” And your voice sounded so small. So pathetic. So broken. 

He lurched forward, his muscles already tense and ready to attack. His lips pressed against yours so hard that you thought that your top lip might be bleeding. The free hand that wasn’t holding the gun gripped the side of your head, holding you to him as he forced his tongue into your mouth, his teeth gently knocking against yours as he opened his mouth to absorb your shaky breaths. Your mouths moved in sync, his lips as pillow soft as you expected them to be. He smelled so good fresh out of the shower, his warm hands all over you, cold drops of hair falling onto your shoulders as he pressed your bare chests against one another. He couldn’t be close enough. You bit his bottom lip, your eyes fluttering open just so that you could see him only to find that he was already watching you with half lidded eyes. He moaned into your mouth as he realized that he had been caught. The guttural sound, the smell of him as well as the way that he tasted was enough to make you bite down harder on his lower lip, his hips jerking forward as he grunted in pain. You could taste blood. 

His blood. 

You licked that up to, hands gripping at anything you could reach. 

You felt something press into the hem of your panties, shivering against the cold metal as he brought the gun down further and further. He pressed the barrel against your heat, rubbing and nudging, stimulating you. You gasped loudly as you became aware of the fact that he was touching you with the gun. He stopped his movement against your clit only for a second, using the gun to slip your panties to the side. You felt it now against your bare skin, sliding against your soaking core. 

“You’re so wet… are you turned on by this, darlin’? Are you just as fucked up as I am?” All you could do was moan, letting him hug you tighter against him as he spoke into your hair. “I’m gonna fuck you and make you mine. Rub my cum all over you, that way everyone will know you belong to me.” You nodded, your cheek rubbing against his stumbled chin as you began working your hips against the gun. 

“So needy. You wanna be filled, honey? Want me to fill you up?” You could feel the barrel of the gun stretching you as he pushed it further and further inside. He was fucking you with a gun. 

This man was fucking you with a gun. 

You mewled as you moved your hips, your legs buckling beneath you as he continued his attack. Again and again he pushed it up inside of you, watching your face intently as he held you closer against his chest. He held up most of your weight as you leaned into him. He loved seeing your soft features pinched, eyes pinched shut, hips moving against his hand in a desperate search for release. He needed you. Needed you now. 

Inside inside inside. 

He tossed the gun somewhere onto the bed, his hands shaking like a mad as he tore the panties down your lips. You heard the fabric tear in his haste, already crawling onto the bed in an attempt to have him in you. You couldn’t deny him anymore. You couldn’t stop yourself. 

“Oh god, I love you.” He thrust in, not giving you even a second. Not letting you take him inch by inch. He was ripping you apart. Stretching you out. Molding him to the shape of his dick. You cried out, moving forward as if to get away from him. The pressure in your abdomen was insane. You could practically feel him in your stomach. Your attempts at escaping him only spurred him on more though, his hips slamming into you, making you take all of him. Forcing you to take it all. 

And you wanted it. Every inch. 

The pleasure and pain all blended into white hot passion. It was impossible to deny the chemistry between the two of you now. There was no getting rid of it anymore. 

“I’m gonna fuck my cum so deep inside of you. Do you want me to get you pregnant? Fucking ruin you so that you’ll be stuck with me.” And you didn’t know why you were nodding but you were. He was just fucking into you so well, hitting that same spot inside of you again and again. The spot that had you seeing stars. 

His hands moved up to your breasts, his touch so hot that he was practically scalding you. His fingers pinched at your nipples as he continued to point into you. The pleasure was too much. It felt too good. All of this had been building for weeks now. It was almost as though all of that had been foreplay. Every touch. Every heated stare. All of it. 

“Say it. I wanna hear you tell me that you’re mine.” He was talking through clenched teeth now, still slamming into you. He yanked your head up by your throat, wanting to look in your eyes. Wanting to see your lovely lips shape the words. 

“I-I’m yours!” His hips stuttered, his loud moan only spurring you on. “I’m yours Tex. All yours. Please- please!” You weren’t even sure what you were begging for. The pleasure was building though, ready to snap. 

“Give it to me. Cum- I want to feel you milk my cock. That’s a good lil girl. Come on.” 

It was at his urging that you let go. Almost on command. Your muscles tensed, your eyes rolled back, and you could barely breathe. You must have called out his name. Must have screamed because he was fucking you even harder, panting in your ear as he pressed you down further into the mattress. 

“That’s it, honey. Keep sayin’ my name. I want everyone downstairs to hear. Fuck, don’t stop.” So you didn’t. He ripped the orgasm straight out of you, chasing his own like a madman. 

He came with something akin to a roar, his sweat slick arm wrapping around your throat, cutting off your airway as he hugged you tighter to him. You could feel his length twitching inside of you. Pumping you full. Giving you every drop. He fucked you through it, pushing the cum in as deep as he could. 

He stilled after a while, gathering himself for a second before he pulled out, resting his hand against the mattress as he climbed over you on top of the bed. He was still panting hard when you finally found enough strength to turn over and face him. 

He was back to looking like an angel again. 

Wet hair sticking to his sticky cheeks, lips red and kiss swollen, and eyes glassy. He looked at you like you were God. And to him you were. 

Your love was like god. Wholly. Infinite. 

And all his.

special special special thanks to my sweet lil sluts. once again, they assisted emotionally with this fic and even beta read a few chunks! I heard russian roulette with tex and here it is. . . @babylovepresley @powerofelvis @ggwritesstuff @woundmetender @eliseinmemphis @polksalademma @flwrs4aust @headfullofpresley @cryingabtab @austinbutlersbaby @lindszeppelin @rosaminny

@knoxvillesshoes@cosmorant@ol1viam@simply-sams-things@haim80s@gabbcabb@8hgel@slutt4him@busy-bee-angel-misska@kaitaesupremacy@dazedshoon @4rt3m1ss@cryingabtab@kittenlittle24@austinsrealgf@austinbutlersgirlfriend@clearbolts @dark-as-love@anni-secret-account-75@ab4eva@starcatchxr @julietamidala @obbsessivereader@gwuide@blurredcolour@the-little-red-haired-girl@meladollsims@poppet05@shrekstheloml@randomwriter888@idc123sworld@vane28282@mirandastuckinthe80s@girlblogger2002@rockerchick05@screechingstrawberrysong@simpforevery1@girlabirla@dre6ming@obetrolncocktails@fairyjanes@jensenswinchester@lo-bells @in-my-body-bag@fxntxsix@petrparkrslut@eliseinmemphis @lelifesaver @screaching-cookie@fantuhsise@areuirish @bcofl0ve@mslizziesblog@shynovelist@ssstrangersblog @harrysthecraic@hangmanswhore@jyvnho@mymamalife @melodydior

[whorcruxes]

Whumptober

this is my first entry for @ouatprompts whumptober <3

day 6: shocking sunday

‘magic with a cost’

(or it could also fit day 26’s painful transformation/loss of autonomy/control but shhh im impatient while simultaneously also being a procrastinator)

Read on AO3

Would You Still Love Me?

Killian pressed another kiss to Emma’s skin, pouting as he posed his question.

“But would you still love me were I a worm love?” 

Emma laughed, popping another piece of popcorn into her mouth as the movie continued to play in the background, detached from their conversation as it kept chugging along in its cheesy dialogue. 

“Yes, Killian, I’d still love you if you suddenly shrunk and transformed into a wriggly bug.” She ruffled her hands through his dark hair, unable to resist the temptation. “I’d turn myself into one to be with you and we’d be a happy little worm family.”

Killian glared at her, protectively curving his hand around her stomach. “Not with the babe you wouldn’t.” 

“Alright.” 

“Thank you for listening to your dashing rapscallion of a husband for once Swan.” Killian grinned, waggling his brows up at her from his spot on her lap. It had always been one of his favourite spots but its sentimentality had grown considerably in the last few months. 

“Whoa babe.” Emma warned. “I’d hunt your worm ass down and force you to come back. You’re not getting away that easily.” 

“I’d very much enjoy that love. Hunt me down whenever you wish.” 

Killian propped himself up to give Emma a sound kiss and then lowered back down into her lap. As he pressed his lips to her stomach to where their daughter rested, a roaring wave of light shot through them and out across Storybrooke. 

Her heart plunged down her throat. The weight of her husband had simply just vanished. 

“Killian?!” Emma shrieked in horror and scrambled up in the bed as fast as her stomach would allow. 

He was. 

He was a worm. 

But he wasn’t so shocked as she. 

He didn’t have space to hold that shock. His eyes screamed in terror as they shrunk into nothing. The blinding light scalded his photoreceptor cells and he yelled until his throat was hoarse. But his efforts were futile, no sound ricocheted out of his vocal chords out into the void he was now in. 

Writhing forward, his muscles pitched his head down into the folds of sheets that were now mountains to his tiny form. His gizzard, full and content before, was now demanding more organic matter to shovel into it. 

His mind didn’t retain much at that moment, but it was full of fear for his Swan’s reaction. She must be terrified and absolutely distraught and that was simply unacceptable in his worm brain. He struggled forward again, trying to grasp a good hold on the bed around him as he suffocated in the cloud of fabric that had become vast oceans and peaks. 

He had been down one hand before in his human form, but relying on hydraulics and the segmented quality of his body instead of three very moveable limbs was agony. 

With no sense of where or how it happened, his body was disconnected from the ground and in sudden freefall as air angrily whipped around him. The twists and turns discombobulated him. He had no connection to sight. To his hearing. 

All he felt was the vibrations of a large being moving back and forth above him. He was in its hold, held prisoner to the whims of the sky. 

But then he plopped down onto a smooth surface. It was unlike the skin that surrounded his own body, but it was nice and warm, sending tickles through him as it swayed underneath. He would be content to lie here until the rest of his days. 

But that would not be. 

He was once again transferred elsewhere. The dirt was nice and moist against his drying skin but he missed the lovely warmth of the hand he had been held safely in before. It was more familiar to him. 

But it did not return. He had no sense of time as a worm. He wouldn’t be able to comprehend it. But he dug and he dug, gorging himself on the matter around him and coating his body in dirt. He compacted himself further and further into the soil until his head smacked against something hard and rebounded. His path changed and changed and changed as his head smacked the same thing over and over again. He could not escape the soil and he could not escape the prison he was in. He could not escape his body. 

The sadness overwhelmed his small body with no outlet for it to be released. It built and built inside him as he trudged forwards with no end in sight. No tears came and he feared he would explode with the longing and grief. He convulsed, seizing as he swam through the soil. 

But wait, he felt those warm hands pluck him out once more, pulling him closer and closer to that feeling he had longed for but could not name. 

And his photoreceptor cells exploded into eyes and his segmented body burst into arms and legs and structured organs once more. 

The first sight with his returned human eyes was blurry with tears, from all the accumulated feelings and pain his worm body could not process before. But he knew who it was even with the way the sight was a blurry watercolour before him. With a gasp he fell to his knees, hugging the owner of the warmth that was his saving grace in his most distressing form. 

“Emma.” 

[sirtadcooper]

Twenty-five icons of the Twelfth Doctor (Doctor Who).

250 x 250px.

Please like/reblog if you use or save them, thank you! :)

Want another colour? Just ask.

My other Doctor Who icons are tagged with #dw icons.

My old icons are available via my icons page and icons tag.

Icons under the cut:

+bonus:

[justanoasisimagines]

From the beginning

Summary; Before their legendary story begun, two notorious pirates were on different courses. Pairing; Killian Jones x Female Reader (Nickname Smoke) WordCount; 516 Warnings; N/A A/N; Requests are currently open and you can find my guidelines pinned to the top of the page! This is connected to a blurb I reccently wrote you can find that here There is going to be a fic following suit. Someone gave me an idea for a drabble, but I've decided to turn it into a fully fledged fic. Credit to cafekitsune for the banner and the divider!

A legendary female pirate traveled across the seven seas. Notorious for her wit, intelligence, her ability to outfight any opponent. She was a legend amongst the pirates. No one could give a definitive description of the woman. She often lurked in the shadows. Her hat covered her face, she often wore a pair of leather mahogany leather gloves. She demanded respect in her actions and words. Only a fool would dare to rise against her. She hadn't been nicknamed smoke for nothing. She could slip away into thin air. Some believed it was sorcery, perhaps she was a witch who'd chosen a life on the ocean. Perhaps she knew when to slip away. Perhaps she'd learned how to vanish at a moment's notice. Smoke heard frequent rumors and speculation about herself. She'd found some laughable, leaning towards the bizarre, others were closer to the truth. Yet she never confirmed which ones were. Fear often forces people to be cautious. Which they needed to be if they desired to be in her presence. It was one of the positives of keeping her identity hidden. She could explore through the world hearing people regard her freely. No one stopped their hushed conversations like they often did when " Captain Smoke" was in their presence. They say knowledge is power and it couldn't be more true. Captain Smoke liked to believe it was why she kept ahead of her rivals. How'd she managed to keep her reputation over the years? She kept learning and adapting to all the changes. It was why she'd become one of the most legendary pirates in Neverland. There was one other who could come close to her. He matched her in nearly every capacity. Killian Jones is a renowned pirate and captain of the Jolly Rodger. Killian was known throughout Neverland as a ferocious and vicious pirate. Killian below his legacy was a human being. He had inspiration, dreams, fears and faults. He was also a curious individual, specifically regarding a particular pirate. He'd heard of her legacy. Heard her battles, her brilliance and the capabilities of her crew. However, they had yet to cross paths. Whenever the two were in the same area, she appeared to disappear in front of him. He'd never had the pleasure of making her acquaintance thus far. For several years now, Killian had been chasing a different type of treasure. Her. Killian wanted to know her. He wanted to know exactly the person behind the moniker. What did she look like? What was she like behind closed doors? Killian believed the two would be an unstoppable force. No one would stand in their way. Perhaps with her by his side, he'd finally be able to defeat Peter Pan once and for all. Killian would find her one way or another. He'd capture her if he had to. One way or another. He'd know her. If. When he succeeded, Killian would mark this down as the greatest treasure hunt of his life. He was destined to meet her, he could feel it. What Killian didn't know was he already had…

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Regina Is Gone

Summary: Regina has lung cancer. Emma is there when she takes her final breath.

She doesn’t talk much anymore but she does like having her hand held. She had always liked that. She had liked it before she’d gotten sick and she likes it now. 

Emma thinks that Regina knows that she doesn’t have much time left. That she had known anyways. She doesn’t seem to know much these days; she dwells in a morphine fog, a limbo state where locations and dates blur. 

Emma can’t say that it had happened fast, they’ve known for some time now. Back in January. It was a cruel thing to have to spend new year’s eve in the ER, doubly so to receive the diagnosis just as midnight came around. Life truly is unkind to Regina and she can’t blame the woman for having become so bitter. 

And maybe Emma is becoming bitter for it, herself. 

She had just started smiling again. 

Back in December two years ago she had declared that this new year would be better for her, that she would live again. Truly live. 

She didn’t know that she was dying. 

That she had been dying for perhaps a year or two. 

Slowly. 

Since the day that they’d met, she’d been dying. Maybe a bit longer.

Probably a lot longer.

The doctors couldn’t say for certain.

Emma thinks that she had inadvertently bought herself more time in suspending Storybrook in time. 

She spent the first year after her curse broke, miserable and resentful. Perhaps she had wanted to die. Emma thinks that the woman might have wished death upon herself; an escape from her suffering. 

It was the one wish that had been granted. But only after she stopped yearning for death.

It was two years after the curse; Regina was energetic then. She had acquired plenty of new hobbies; gardening, baking, candle making, and sculpting wax. She had dabbled with making soap as well. Sometimes Emma would walk into her office and catch her shaping a wax horse instead of getting through her pile of paperwork. And she would take the chance to tell Regina to get back to work, a sly throwback to an older era; she can still hear her voice clear and smooth, “our tax dollars hard at work, I see.” 

She has a sense of humor now. She had quirked a brow and looked up from her wax horse and, with a haughty sniff and a slight laugh, had muttered, “perhaps you don’t want your gift then.” 

Regina hasn’t made any wax sculptures in a while. 

Not since chemo began and the brain fog and persistent pain started to set in. Forgetfulness and absentmindedness. Emma could see the frustration on Regina’s face when she misplaced a tax form that she had been working on. Or when she’d confused the date of a mayoral meeting for one of their date nights. 

She resigned from her position later that year. 

The town didn’t know why; they had tried to tell her that they appreciated her work, that they know that she had changed and didn’t want her to step down. She had told them simply that she wanted a chance to explore passions beyond leadership. That she had never really wanted to be a queen or a mayor at all. And Emma supposes that it hadn’t been a lie, rather one motivation out of many. 

Regina has always been private and Emma had respected that. Her own mother and father hadn’t known for months, not until she had broken down in front of them. Cried to Mary and David about how hard it is to listen to Regina cry at night. To listen to wheeze and cough. To see her wake up with bags under her eyes after another night of chest pain. 

All of that pain and exhaustion that had invited depression right back in. But Regina still smiled now and then. She still laughed a lot too. At least in the beginning. 

It had started out as pneumonia. A stubborn pneumonia that kept coming back. She had mentioned that she had dealt with that on and off before casting her curse, but hadn’t thought much of it. 

The doctors had assumed that she was simply vulnerable to pneumonia—tossing in the possibility of her being immunocompromised in some way. 

Her voice had grown hoarse too. Rather consistently, but they had attributed that to flu season and so she never went to the doctor. And her breathing—she swore that it was just a sinus infection or allergies. 

And then her arms and face would swell…

She was diagnosed a month later. 

It was too late by then. 

But she’d still chosen to fight because, “I finally have a life worth fighting for, Emma.” She cried that night. “What am I going to tell, Henry?” 

Emma couldn’t find the words either. 

For a while Regina stopped leaving the mansion. She also stopped looking in the mirror. She always had put a lot of care into her hair and skin. “You’re a beautiful woman.” Emma could say it over and over again but Regina would always disagree. She misses her hair and she said that the wigs looked fake. She no longer had the strength to use magic to grow it back. To use any magic at all. Eventually Emma had managed to coax her outside. She’d found a weak point; Regina’s love for the autumn months. And this year’s foliage had been particularly lovely. The woman had buried herself in hats and kept well away from the well traveled paths. 

One night, she had admitted that she had always felt at least somewhat displeased with her appearance which Emma had found hard to believe; Regina had always presented herself with such poise and confidence. Regina insisted that it was a facade, that she was a fraud. 

Emma knows that it isn’t true. 

That same night, Regina had joked that at least she is losing weight. 

Emma had forced a laugh but it hadn’t been so funny with Regina cuddling close enough for her to feel the woman’s ribs on her back. As of then, she had been having trouble eating. Food, no matter the texture, amount, or type was making her nauseous. And so ER visits had started becoming regular. IVs, supplementary drinks and shakes,  and pills had begun to take the place of real food. 

Her skin was always pale and her eyes started to grow as hollow as her body.

And Emma started to get angry—absolutely furious at the universe, fate, whatever, for attacking her wife so aggressively and mercilessly. 

Emma had to care for her then. On some days—most of them—just getting out of bed had become taxing for Regina. Their forest walks had become briefer and briefer until she confined herself to the backyard, and then just the porch, and then to short ventures from her bedroom to the living room. 

She said that she felt lazy and useless. That she hated being a burden. 

Emma would rub her back and tell her that it wasn’t true. 

It wasn’t Regina’s fault that she was sick and dammit she was doing the best that she could. 

People had a lot of questions. Mostly wondering why that hadn’t seen Regina about lately. Granny had thought it strange that she hasn’t gotten any requests for Regina’s usual. 

She knew that they knew that something was amiss. That Regina wasn’t well.

Once, on an out of place good day, Regina had found the energy to visit her apple tree and ask how Belle is enjoying her new position as mayor. Belle had been the first person aside from family to learn that Regina has lung cancer. 

The two of them had talked for a good while. 

Longer than Regina usually talked. Throughout she would hold a hand to her aching chest and request water for her scratchy throat. 

Belle recommended a book that she would never get to finish. 

When they got home, Regina opened the window to let the summer breeze in. She said that she liked the smell of summer. That Maine has amazing summers. That she wanted to go to the beach. 

Emma knew then that it was almost over. 

She can’t imagine that Regina would let herself be seen in such a sickly condition unless she knew that she wouldn’t have to deal with pitying, patronizing looks afterward.

She had asked to go to the fourth of July barbecue too. Because, apparently, Grumpy is rather good at grilling and she could go for a bomb pop cocktail. Emma told her that she could use a firecracker shot or two for herself.

It had been a calm before the storm.

Before a grand fall.

The next day Regina started coughing up blood. 

She was admitted to the hospital on the second of July.

And here she is now, laying in the hospital bed, a ghost of a woman who barely utters more than five sentences a day.

None of those sentences are coherent. 

She talked more yesterday. 

Mostly to ask for the eighth time—third that day—where she was. And each time she was surprised to hear that she was in the hospital. She asked Emma if they could go to Venezuela to see a Mayan temple. She also asked if they could go to Austria to see Stonehenge.

Emma couldn’t keep the tears out of her eyes. In some way she had come to realize that Regina was already gone.  

Even the day before that, the words she said made more sense. 

Like yesterday, she hasn’t spoken at all. Has hardly woken up. Emma doesn’t like when she wakes up anyways. Because she always does so in a panic. Emma has gotten to know that crease in her brow very well, it is a telltale sign and the only indication of some type of distress; either pain or anxiety. Either which way, she fixes droopy eyes with dilated pupils upon her. And there is fear and pain in those eyes. Fear and pain that replaces something else. A something–some kind of sparkle—that was, at one point, Regina. Emma is now inclined to believe that you can see a person’s soul in their eyes.

While taking away the pain, the drugs have too taken the soul out of Regina’s eyes. 

Yes, Emma believes that Regina, though she still breathes, is gone already. The parts of her that matter anyways. 

Henry squeezes both Emma’s hand and Regina’s. “Can she feel it?” Henry asks. “Can she hear us.”

Emma knows that Regina hadn’t wanted Henry to see her like this. And she can see it on Henry’s face that he has mixed feelings about being here. 

“I don’t think that she feels anything, and that’s probably a good thing. It would hurt a lot if she could.” 

Henry’s hand leaves Regina’s for a moment and he leans into Emma. Emma squeezes him tightly. He closes his eyes, his expression twists into that particular wince that he makes when he is trying not to cry. He always ends up in tears.

“I think that she can hear us though.” 

“I love you mom.” He says. 

Just yesterday Regina would have whispered it back. It was one of the few coherent sentences that she clung to. Along with very vague requests for assistance. Emma isn’t even sure if Regina actually knows what she is saying or if she is just parroting phrases that she hears.

Today her lips part but the words never make it. Her throat is so dry and her lips are chapped and cracking. 

And Emma is tired. 

Tired of watching the woman die. 

It might be horrible but she wishes that Regina would just do it already. Just get it over with. She can’t fathom what the woman might be waiting for—pretty much everyone in Storybrooke has already dropped in to say goodbye or to tell her that bygones are bygones.

Emma doesn’t know how much more of this she can take. Henry has already reached his limit but he insists that he wants to be there for his mom. 

And so Emma cups Regina’s cheek and leans in close. “It’s okay, Gina. You can go by Daniel now,” she says. Regina’s eyes open for the first time that day. “I bet that he misses you.” As much as Emma and Henry are about to miss her. Emma kisses her forehead. “I love you.” But Regina’s attention has lapsed again. 

Her stomach lurches and her heart tickles. There is a shameful part of her that is jealous, maybe even angry, that Regina had perked up at the mention of Daniel but not at Emma’s own final declaration of love. 

That anger dissipates when she doesn’t respond to Henry’s hug either. She knows that Regina must be so terribly tired. 

And so she says again, “go on Gina, it’s alright.” Although she doesn’t believe it at all she adds, “Henry and I will be alright, we’ll take care of each other.” 

“I love you, mom.” Henry says. 

“I love you, Regina.”

Regina’s eyes open, they go very very wide. Her mouth opens and for a second Emma thinks that she will return that, “I love you.” Instead she lets out another one of her gurgling breaths. This one is the worst. 

It is also the last. 

Regina is gone. 

She has been gone for days.

[rockonlavender]

title: Juliet pairing: Regina Mills x Emma Swan rating: G summary: Under the cover of night, their stolen moments ignite a passion so deep that it threatens to consume them. But as dawn approaches and secrets unravel, they are torn apart by a cruel fate.. word count: 614 chapters: one-shot read here

[phantomstatistician]

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Sample Size: 32,136 stories

Source: AO3

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Take a Break » Jefferson/Mad Hatter

Pairings: Husband!Jefferson x Wife/Teacher!Reader

Summary: Jefferson convinces his wife to take a break from grading papers.

Warnings: Smut (18+), language, dirty talk, kissing, hickeys, fingering, f receiving, unprotected sex, praise kink, aftercare, use of pet names

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes and typos.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

“Sweetheart…” Jefferson’s voice softly echoed through yours and his home office, leaning against the doorframe.

“Now’s not a good time, Jefferson.” You say, not looking up from the stack of papers in front of you.

Jefferson sighed and pushed himself off the doorframe and walked in the office, closing and locking the door behind him before approaching the desk. He leaned down, kissing along your neck and shoulder, his teeth nipping on your skin hard enough to mark you up. You bit your bottom lip and tilted your head to the side to give him more access.

“Jefferson…” You breathed.

“You need to take a break, darling. You’ve been grading papers all evening.” He says in almost a whisper in your ear.

You opened your mouth to say something, but a gasp left your lips when you felt Jefferson’s hand disappear inside of your blouse and into your bra, gently squeezing one of your breasts. Your eyes fluttered shut and you melted into his touch. You felt your panties dampen.

“Jefferson, Grace is home.” You say.

“She’s spending the night at a friend’s house. We have the whole house to ourselves, honey.” He says.

He took his hand out of your blouse and began to unbutton it while his other hand disappeared underneath your skirt, rubbing your clit through your wet panties. You moved your hips against his hand, wanting more.

“You want more, sweetheart?” Jefferson asks huskily.

“Yes please!” You begged.

Jefferson pulled you up from the chair and pushed it aside. He turned you around and kissed you hungrily. He pushed your blouse off your shoulders, letting it fall it the floor. One of his hands expertly unclasped your bra. He pulled your skirt down your legs, letting it pool around your feet. You stepped out of it, kicking it to the side. His hand slid down your stomach and into your wet panties. His fingers rubbing from your clit to your tight entrance causing your pussy to clench around nothing.

“Jefferson, please…” You begged.

“Bend over the desk and spread your legs for me, darling.” He whispers in your ear.

You obeyed his orders, bending over the desk and spreading your legs and gave him a perfect view of your wet pussy, waiting for your husband to make the next move. He placed kisses along your spine before getting on his knees behind you. His hands grasped your thighs, placing kisses on them, making his way up to your pussy.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart that the only thing on your mind is me, your husband.” He says.

Your hands grasped onto the edge of the desk when his lips latched onto your clit, his tongue circling it. Your mouth fell open, moans of his name leaving your lips.

“Jefferson…” You gasped. “Oh yes!” You moaned.

His finger circled your entrance before sliding it inside of you causing your hands to grip the desk tighter.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned.

He move his finger at a decent pace while his tongue continued to flick your clit. His other hand snaked up your body, blindly finding it’s way to one of your breasts. His thumb and index finger pinched your nipple causing your cunt to clench around his finger at the sensation. Jefferson slid a second finger inside of you. Your jaw dropped, breathy moans leaving your lips. Your nails dug into the wood of the desk as his fingers and tongue fucked you.

“Yes! Oh fuck yes!” You moaned loudly when his fingers hit your sweet spot.

His tongue moved faster against your clit. His fingers moved faster, continuing to hit your sweet spot. He pinched your nipple again, this time a little hard which triggered your orgasm to start building up.

“Oh baby! I’m almost there!” You moaned.

“Give it to me, darling. Cum for me.” He says huskily.

His fingers pinched your nipple one more time before you came on his face and fingers. His fingers and tongue fucked you through your orgasm. Jefferson took his fingers out of your pussy and his lips off your clit. You leaned against the desk, catching your breath. Meanwhile, Jefferson was stripping himself out of his clothes. He hovered over you, turning your head to the side to kiss your lips.

“You’re being such a good girl for me.” Jefferson praises. “I think you deserve more. What you think, darling?” He asks softly.

“Mmm yes, I do.” You hummed in response.

Jefferson pumped his cock in his hand a couple times before lining it at your tight entrance, slowly sliding it inside of you, inch by inch. He turned your head again, kissing you once more when his cock was deep inside of you. His hands grasped your hips when he started thrusting. His thrusts were fast and loving.

“Always so fucking tight.” Jefferson moans, tilting his head back.

You felt every vein of his cock rubbing along your walls. Your hands gripped the edge of the desk tighter. His hands left your hips and slid up the front of your body, helping you stand up straight, your back against the front of his body. One of your hands continued to grip the edge of the desk while your other one found its way to his hair, your fingers tugging on it. His hands roamed your body, cupping your breasts and gave them a squeeze. A moan left your lips and your back arched off his body.

“Jefferson…” You moaned, your jaw dropping and your eyes fluttering shut.

Jefferson always takes your pleasure seriously, especially when you’ve been working hard and you deserve something for it.

“How are you feeling now, sweetheart?” Jefferson asks almost in a whisper.

“Amazing!” You gasped. “More!” You begged. “I want more!” You tell him.

“I’ll give you everything you want, my darling.” He says.

He didn’t just that. One of his hands snaked down the front of your body, stopping on your clit and began rubbing it in circles. A tingle went through your body when you felt the cool metal of his ring against your clit. One of your hands grasps Jefferson’s wrist to keep his hand in place. His fingers applied more pressure on your clit as he was rubbing it. A moan of his name left your lips. You arched your back in pleasure, pressing your breast more in his hand. Your head was against his shoulder. Your cunt clenched around his cock, feeling your orgasm building up.

“I know you’re close, sweetheart.” Jefferson says in your ear. “I know you’re on the edge. Cum for me.” He almost whispers, kissing your neck.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your jaw dropped, a moan of his name left your lips as you came. Jefferson fucked you through your orgasm, getting closer to his own orgasm. His thrusts got sloppy momentarily, but quickly regained it. A moan, followed by a curse word left his lips as he came inside of you, painting your walls. He laid his forehead against your shoulder as his thrusts came to a halt. You two stood there for a moment, catching your breath. Jefferson pulled out of you and turned you around, holding you in his arms so you didn’t fall due to how wobbly your legs are at the moment.

“Feel better, honey?” Jefferson asks, kissing your lips sweetly.

“Mmm, much better. Thank you, baby.” You say against his lips.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and to bed.” He says.

Let’s just say that grading papers was the last thing on your mind for the night.

🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩

-Bucky’s Doll