#obsessed with the world and characters) but there’s no way either of them could possibly hope to compete with the EXPERIENCE that is htn

[camgoloud]

i’m pretty sure this was done on the tlt subreddit once before but i haven’t seen it here and i’m curious to know tumblr’s opinions on the topic! personally i like the second two much more than the first—gtn didn’t really grab me that much and i wouldn’t have even called myself part of the fandom until i decided i might as well give htn a go and immediately got sucked in—but i’m guessing that most people’s experience is different, since the first book seems like the most popular based on the impressions i’ve gotten. also feel free to put in tags where you’d rank the short stories (as yet unsent and doctor sex) relative to the books! i would have stuck those in the poll too but there are. 120 different ways to order 5 unique objects

#personally it’s always going to be ayu >/= htn > ntn > dr sex > gtn for me #i do think that gtn might have had a chance against ntn if i had read gtn in the same mindset that i read nona (i.e. already completely 100% #obsessed with the world and characters) but there’s no way either of them could possibly hope to compete with the EXPERIENCE that is htn #and ayu is absolutely perfect for what what it is (character study of judith subtle worldbuilding exercise etc.) #like that short story more than anything else to me is where it’s clear that muir has written fanfic before because in the best possible way #ayu feels like one of those extremely high-quality 10-15k oneshot fics that you read and find your entire life permanently changed by #also the night that story leaked on this website was my destiel night so i will always have a fondness for it tied to that experience #the locked tomb #polls #if this HAS been done on here then i’m sorry and i’m not trying to steal anyone’s thunder! i just really want to know

[ghostie-luvs]

Yandere! Patient <3

tw: depression,, obsessive behavior, very slight mention of sh/attempt

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who had been suffering from depression ever since he was young. His parents never tried to figure out why, only sending him to all these different therapists in hopes of helping him. Of course, they cared but they were also too busy, and perhaps, that was one of the leading causes: neglect.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who never tried hurting himself or attempting but only wallowed in the emptiness of the house he grew up in, no siblings to play with, no parents to admire, only him, and a few servants.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who during highschool, got his first ever partner. Gods, he was ecstatic! I mean, the man was touch starved, attention starved, everything starved really. He really did like the person,, so much that his love developed into a sort of unhealthy love, or so people call it.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who would do anything for his new partner, go above and beyond for them..even if they didn’t like it. I mean, shouldn’t they be more appreciative of his efforts? No matter, he still loves them and will do whatever it takes for them to be happy.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ whose love only grows, progresses into a more..obsessive one. His partner always being treated with the affection he so wish he had when he was younger, with gifts, touches, anything they could ever want.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who savored the feeling of their touches, begging for more each time they pulled away, whining if you could even call it that. He needed the affection, he needed their touch and only deflated whenever he did not get what he wanted, thoughts of his childhood resurfacing.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who began to become dependent to his partner, needing them for everything. He wouldn’t be able to sleep, to eat or anything without them. He needed them, desperately. He couldn’t live without them.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who started to panic when his partner began to get distant. He wanted to ask why, wanted to figure out the problem, what he possibly did wrong. His partner gave him no room to even ask, breaking up with him, saying he was too much, and too clingy. What? Too..clingy?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who after the breakup, didn’t take it very well. He fell into the old friend of his that he had when he was young, finding no use of taking care of himself.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who was sent to a psychiatrist when his parents came back from abroad, noting his appearance and realizing what was happening again. He fought back, he told them that those damn people never helped him!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who, the day he arrived to his supposed assigned psychiatrist, felt absolutely horrible being there and only kept to himself. He knew how it would be already. They would prescribe him medicine that didn’t even work.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who, when his eyes fell on you, as you called his name and greeted him with a smile, inviting him to yours and your mentors office-you were only an assistant, only two years older than him- felt his world suddenly fill with colors. What? Soulmates don’t exist. So why was this happening and why did he feel so giddy at your welcoming smile?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who followed you into your office, making himself comfortable as you told him to sit down and tell you about himself. Why was he nervous? Either way, he did exactly what you told him and found himself getting comfortable in your presence and your smile.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who felt happy..happy in a long time at how much you’ve listened to him and treated him so nicely..just like his partner. He was excited for the next appointment, practically sulking when he had to leave, ignoring the fact that you probably prescribed him medicine on the way out, too busy with what would happen next time.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who knew he wouldn’t be taking that medicine anyway. Why would he when he found that you were good enough, that you were the cure?

a/n: ahhh another character <3 please point out any mistakes or any constructive criticism is welcomed!! Reblogs are very much appreciated!!

please note that I am not a professional/ expert in the field of mental illnesses and reach out to one if you ever feel symptoms relating to depression or s! thoughts.

more of my works :)

#riri writes #fem! reader #male yandere #x reader #x y/n #x you #yandere x reader #female y/n #x male reader #x male y/n #x gn reader #x gn y/n #x gender neutral reader #x female reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere male #tw yandere #oc x reader #yandere x you

[feyd-meowtha]

taps the mic. hilly what are your thoughts on the nature of feydpaul asking for a friend (the friend is me)

No strong feelings really... Pretty impartial ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

Unless we're talking about the fact that they're narrative foils, they're star-crossed lovers. They're polar opposites, they're the same person. They were born to either kill one another or give birth to the most important child who ever lived. Neither of them has ever had a real friend their own age and they didn't even know enough about normal childhoods to mourn not having them. I almost never think about the complex elements of gender present in the fated relationship in a boy with the powers of a female witch, who was supposed to be born a girl, and another boy with pouty lips whose favourite weapon is poison (famously a feminine choice) and wears flares and leotards and lives under the thumb of a powerful, abusive older man.

I especially almost never ponder the fact that one of them tried to kill the other in the most Freudian imaginable possible way - cunty secret poison hip knife - because that simply has no strange and interesting implications which I could theorise about for hours over a bottle of japanese whiskey. The symbolism of penetration and killing thing Vs as bringer of new life, especially in the insanely penetration obsessed world of Dune. (Knives and breeding programmes and worms, whole topic in itself for sure)

It also means nothing to me when I think of they ways in which they were so uniquely isolated. Both having members of their families killed and being thrust into positions where ambition and power seem like the only way to keep themselves alive and sane and safe. It means nothing to me when I consider that no-one in Feyd's life ever genuinely loved him, probably not up until his death, not even Frank Herbert who never even bothered to bring him up again after the first book. I never think about the ways both of their families decay and crumble after they're gone, their children either suffering bizarre fates or disappearing. How even their legacies are bloody and stained.

Never before have life and death and fate and trauma and power and hope and destruction (both of the self and the other) been so entwined in characters with less interaction, and as you can see .... I really have no opinions on it one way or another.

Plato said this about them and it makes me feel really normal, actually.

(thank you for asking - as you can see, they make me deeply unwell and I haven't had a full nights sleep since the second movie came out. Living the dream wouldn't change a thing <3)

#long post #dune #feyd rautha #paul atreides #austin butler #dune part 2 #dune part two #timothée chalamet #dune meta #house harkonnen #house atreides #feydpaul

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead's Sister in Law!

Re-upload due to complications.

Chapter 1

Dion x Fem! Reader

Warnings: possible yandere themes, arranged marriage, toxic relationship, slight incestual themes due to the content of “Roxana,” blood, mention of murder

Nsfw warnings: Lost of virginity (both parties?), fingering, oral (fem receiving), spit, reader does NOT get to finish, vaginal pain, HEAVY DUB/CON.

Disclaimer: I do NOT condone any of the harmful and dangerous actions/behaviors that takes place in this piece of fiction. These actions/behaviors should not be normalized or romanticized as they are extremely toxic and dangerous.

Minors/blank/blogs that don’t reblog fanfiction dni and don’t span like my posts or you will be blocked.

Overall story summary: you reincarnated into one of your favorite novel-turned-webtoons. However, you didn't want to become the female lead's sister-in-law...

Word count: 4542k

===

“The Way to Protect the Female Lead’s Older Brother,” also known as “ROXANA” was a rather dark novel that was adapted into a webtoon. And as luck would have it, the webtoon wasn’t finished, and you don’t remember all the details of the fan translated web novel you found online.

Now, why would that be a problem? Simple:

You reincarnated into it. Not as a main character, or even a servant to one of the families. You weren’t a child of Lant’s or one of his many wives. You weren’t a friend to one of his children, either. Instead, it was worse than most of what was listed.

Whatever God you managed to piss off had a silly little, petty revenge plan that was straight out of a third-rate horror novel with teenage girls fawning over it. And truthfully, if written right, the non-existent novel would have been a banger – but no, instead it was anything but. Or maybe you only really think that because of your position in this world, where your birth was simple, but painful for your mother, and you were lucky enough to be born into a family that loved and cared for and about you.

It was a noble family, to boot. Wealthy enough to live a comfortable life. Two siblings – an older sister who was already married at the age of thirty with a child on the way. The other was a 12-year-old boy who made it his life mission to be the most annoying little piece of shit on earth.

But as you lay on your back, hands holding your nightgown in place, all you could think about was how small Dion Argece makes you feel. The wedding ceremony just finished up hours ago, and here you are, back pressed against silk sheets as your now-husband hovers over you.

(Name) Argece.

What a horrible name and cruel faith.

Inky black hair that falls into his carmine red eyes that held indifference. His wedding-tux was still on, even the outer jacket with the silly lone rose in his pocket. Oh, what a shame – to be married to such a handsome man only for him to be obsessed with his sister and emotionally unavailable.

God despises you.

“Close your eyes if you’re uncomfortable.”

He unbuttons his outer jacket, sliding it off his shoulders and tosses it to the side. You should close your eyes, you think, because his face was nothing but stone. Not even a condescending grin. He doesn’t comfort you, either – at least not in the typical sense.

“Keep still,” his gloved hands grab your thighs and you let him open them, creating space for him to get closer. You want to push him away and run. But what good would that do? Why couldn’t the man just slice something and claim that the blood on the sheets was from your first night?

“I’m scared.” You speak without thinking, becoming stiff as his hands traveled from your outer thigh to the inner, creeping underneath your nightgown. His gloves feel cold and uncomfortable, touch borderline rough. “I – I need a moment. Please?”

He tilts his head, giving it thought. After a moment he removes himself, but annoyance radiates off him. Your heart beats faster as the second’s pass. You remain on your back. The ceiling is painted white, no decorations and the room was bare saved for a dresser, closet, mirror and a random chair by the window.

You will be sleeping in here, from now on.

“Can’t do it? Then don’t.” he’s annoyed, surely, otherwise he wouldn’t look at you like you were an insect. What a wonderful way to start the newlywed life. But it’s not that easy to walk away, and while it sounds like he’s giving you a say-so, he isn’t; if you don’t consummate your marriage tonight, then…

“… I’m sorry. It’s my first time and I heard there would be pain.” You shouldn’t have to explain yourself. But Dion wasn’t exactly known for his… compassion. Or basic human emotions, either.

If this was someone else, would you be able to do it? Where did everything go wrong? This didn’t happen in the novel; Dion didn’t get married. There wasn’t a grand wedding with the Five Ruling Families in attendance. Nor was there a steamy scene with this man throughout the novel, not even in the side stories.

How did you end up here?

“Then relax.” If you weren’t scared of losing your life you would have run him over. It affects everything! Then again, it wouldn’t matter to him – this is a duty. Not something he wanted, you’re sure, and even if he did it would only have his best interests in mind.

“… I’m ready.” You don’t answer him, because it would only lead to a one-sided argument. Even a wall listens better. Despite your wishes, Dion does the same as last – settles in-between your legs, and this time, you close your eyes.

“Good. Try to relax or it won’t fit.” Your cheeks burn at that, mind already picturing how it would look. Many men say things like that, even in your old world. It’s just a thing they said, like with many things. It doesn’t really mean anything, because if it did then…

His gloves are still on, cold and grip tight on your thighs. You were hoping he would be gentler. But as his hands travel up and up until they’re pulling at the edges of your underwear to slide them down, you realize he won’t.

There’s no slickness down there, your underwear dry and vagina even drier. You peek through your eyelashes, watching as he inspects the article of clothing. He tosses it a few seconds later.

“I’m only going to ask once – would you rather keep your clothes on or off?” It seems that with every second reality just hits harder and harder. This was going to happen. Nothing could stop it. And if hypothetically, if he were to stop this, what then?

Even if he sliced an arm to fake the night, what about later? A baby, Lant wants Dion to have a child. No. You couldn’t do that to a child, especially yours.

“On. Please.” You expect him to just shove in a finger or two, watching as your body jerks in pain. Instead, he lifts your hips until your bottom was off the bed and flips the flimsy skirt up. And then there’s a glob of something wet and gooey, legs twitching as it lands on your bare cunt.

“D – did you just… spit?” steading yourself on your arms, you look on in disbelief as your husband just spat on your pussy. A string of saliva hangs from his tongue.

Instead of answering you, much less look at you, his thumb comes into play and spreads his saliva over the surface of your cunt. It’s only when his thumb swipes over your clit do you let out a shaky breath.

Maybe he was feeling generous or maybe he was curious. Dion decided to rub the twitching nub over and over until your legs twitch and cunt clenched around nothing. The glove made it uncomfortable, but even so, you just tried your best to focus on the pleasure. You weren’t sure if he would give you pleasure like this again.

“You’re enjoying this,” he retreats his hand leaving your twitching and needy clit lonely.

A pathetic whimper escapes as you watch your husband take his glove off with his teeth. This man is everything you fear and more, a character that you should have never met. Yet the sight of him lowering his head to lick a long stride against your slit has your legs shaking.

His tongue is warm and slimy, causing your hands to clench the sheets as your head falls back. Another lick and another until it’s flicking your clit back and forth, sending warmth throughout your body. However, despite the pleasure he’s giving you, his grip is still tight, almost painful on your hips.

Your heartbeat doesn’t slow down as he continues. Your fear barely dies down in your chest, even as the tip of his tongue teases your entrance. You shut your eyes tight, a breathless gasp leaving your lips as he thrusts his tongue into your cunt.

“It feels – “a pause as you catch your breath, “weird, it feels really weird and – “

Dion repeats the action until you’re a trembling mess, sensitive from your mental state and the current oral sex you’re receiving. It’s hard to focus on either one, your mind constantly reminding you that you’re in a novel, about to fuck a man who’s jaded and possibly has a thing for his sister –

“Ah… wait, that’s a lot…” he decides to go further, bringing his thumb back and rubs loose circles into your clit. He’s still eating you out, but not like a man starved like you read in erotic novels.

Even so, your husband keeps at it. If it was a good or bad thing was up for debate – on one hand, while it does feel good, everything is moving too fast, your pleas for slowing down falling on deaf ears. It really is a lot, tongue fucking you while those loose circles on your clit become tighter, rougher. Should you just lay back and take what he gives?

Your mother would probably say so. Your sister would just pat your head and smile like it was expected. Normal. Take what he gives, especially if it benefits you in any way.

“…?” your eyes open at his tongue leaving your cunt with a saliva trail, his eyes glued to your twitching sex. His thumb also stops rubbing circles, instead going back to grip your hip as your back starts to become sore. Your ass is still off the bed and if he keeps you hosted up like this, then you really will snap in half.

But then he locks eyes with you.

“I thought you were scared.” Dion doesn’t let you respond, either because he doesn’t care or because it would ruin the ‘mood.’ He latches his mouth to your poor, abused nub instead. And sucks.

“H-hey!” one hand supporting you while the other grabs at his hair, you didn’t expect him to throw your legs over his shoulders. “That’s enough, really, no need to – ugh…” his mouth was warm and soft, but it sends your nerves on fire.

Good. Bad. Good. Bad.

Good, bad, does it matter anymore?

He sucks harder and your fingers tug harshly at his hair. You kick your legs but are unable to tell if it’s from pleasure or the flight or fight response he’s causing you. He doesn’t budge, doesn’t bat an eye, making it his life mission to suck you dry.

“Ah – wait, Dion – “

It’s at your whine of his name does he finally, finally stop, a ‘pop’ when he detaches his mouth from your sensitive and bullied clit. Your husband decides to lick one last long stripe from your entrance to your clit, all the while making eye contact with you. Your chest heaves as your mind settles, arousal overthrowing your thoughts.

“What is it?” Monotone, his voice is monotone and he’s not even out of breath. Your mother lied, there’s not even a hint of pink across those cheeks. It’s fine, though – no, it’s not, it’s baffling how steady he seems when your back is about to break, and you can’t even breathe.

Your eyes travel from his to his hair, where your hand is still grasping the strands. Mind still catching up to your body, you let go and draw your hand back, covering your eyes with it. Your entire body is shaky and legs sore. You’re not used to this position.

“It – it’s enough.” Your husband lets you pull your legs back, feet pressing against his broad shoulders as you bring them back down. The relief is almost immediate, a pleasurable and relief-filled sigh leaving your chest. You allow yourself to rest for a bit, your sensitive cunt and sore legs screaming for it.

“… O – okay, I think, I think that’s fine. Excuse me…” gently, you pull one leg up until your foot is flat against the bed. With a shudder, you trace your entrance timidly with two fingers, getting used to the touch. You’re not sure of how big he was, but you’ll use three fingers just in case.

You gape like a fish when his hand reaches out, grabbing yours roughly. You didn’t even notice the dip in the mattress as Dion got closer on his knees, face inches away from yours. Oh God, now what –

“What are you doing?” clearly annoyed, Dion doesn’t let you look away – not that you were going to – free hand grabbing your face, pointer finger and thumb on each cheek. It’s barely loose enough to leave no bruises. It hurts regardless.

“I – I was… prepping…” part of you wants to pretend that this man doesn’t know how to comfortably prepare you for pentation with his… but you know better. Because an inexperienced man wouldn’t know how to do things with his tongue like that, or where the clit was because –

“Are you still scared?” The hand that was holding yours releases it, opting to sneak its way to your cunt. His fingers were larger than yours, nimbler as they stroke your labia minora. Are the shivers washing over you from nervousness or arousal?

“… I’m scared of the pain.” By instinct, you knew he meant more than scared of sex – if you feared him. Still.

It doesn’t need to be said.

“Scared of the pain?” His eyes glow in the moonlight, bright red with absolutely no emotion. “Why?” he doesn’t break eye contact as his fingers inch closer to your entrance, stroking the opening, making your legs jolt. What a horrible man.

You remind yourself that this man only felt fear as a child – and even then, it probably wasn’t for very long. Nothing lasts for long, in this estate.

“Because I hate it.” You don’t break eye contact either, breathing in when one finger slowly sinks in, your walls now stretching uncomfortably. It’s not as painful as you thought it would be, your wetness mixed with his saliva making it easier. Your nails are about to rip holes in the silk sheets.

Like a curious animal, he tilts his head, curling his finger. It doesn’t feel good, it hurts, but you endure it even when you wince. Dion decides it would be a good idea to spread your legs a bit further, and like a bug, crawls between them even more. You hiccup when he adds a second finger.

They’re bigger than yours, they reach deeper. In your old world, did it feel like this too? You can’t remember.

“It’s going to hurt worse if you don’t let me finish this. Relax your legs before it hurts worse.” Pressure builds in your eyes, but you fight it off. “Save your tears for when it matters.”

You’re tired of him already.

He doesn’t move them, at first. It’s almost like he expects this, because as you adjust to something foreign inside you, he starts to rub at your clit, again. Softly this time, touch firm enough to feel but not hard enough to hurt. Or maybe you’re lying to yourself because you’re wincing, still.

When he starts to thrust them in and out, you force yourself to look at the ceiling, scared to see the expression on his face. You also don’t want to watch the show, scared it’ll already be bloody. Just a bit.

“It’s tight.” He states it like it’s the morning news. “And wet.” Your cheeks burn with both shame and embarrassment, shutting your eyes.

“… ugh…,” groaning, your hand reaches out to grab his wrist. “It hurts, a lot.” You sit up, back against the headboard, avoiding your husband’s gaze. Unfortunately, by doing this, your eyes land on your messy hole, light blood on his fingers as he pulls them out only to thrust them in again.

“It’s normal. The more you resist the worse it gets.” You give up, letting him do as he pleases, shutting your mouth.

The fingering still hurts as the minutes go by, but little by little the pressure eases down and when he arches his hand, he hits something soft and spongy. He’s rewarded the sight of your head banging against the headboard once, shoulder tense as you bite your bottom lip.

If only you could see that look in his eyes.

“Here?” He repeats the action, faster this time. You only nod your head, lips ajar, tongue swiping over them. Your hips have a mind of their own, raising as the heel of his hand rapidly smacks against your clit with his thrust of his hand.

You’re half there mentally and halfway in heaven, momently forgetting just who was here with you, who room this belonged to, and your entire situation to begin with. “Oh - wait, it’s a lot but – “

A third finger is added, and it starts to sting again. Another wince, another groan, but your arousal helps to keep the pain to minimum. All three fingers curl to hit that special spot that makes you see blacked out stars and pussy clench. All the while light blood coats his fingers, a sight he’s already used to due to his lifestyle.

It’s only when he pulls his hand away completely do you return from the skies, a small layer of sweet coating your forehead. Your hands are shaky as you look at him, only to be drowned back into reality when you’re met with those red, indifferent eyes that glow brighter than the moon.

“If you’re ready, lay on your back and spread your legs.” He undoes his pants while saying this, scooting back to give you some room.

With a heavy heart, you do so, laying on your back and spread your legs. You were fine just moments ago, so why is your heart leaping out of your throat rather than staying in your chest? Maybe it was because of the pleasure, or…

You’re scared, again.

You don’t look when something fat and heavy plops onto your pelvis. You don’t look when he brings you closer by your thighs. You don’t look as he rubs the head of his cock against your slick folds, catching on your clit.

“Relax or it won’t fit,” he reminds you before pushing the fat head in. At first, it’s a sting no bigger than an ant bite. But then another inch goes in, and you feel like a sword is cutting you straight up open, your legs tensing and hands grasping his forearms in a futile attempt to stop him.

Your nails dig into his sleeves, and you can feel the skin underneath. The tears build up as your face becomes hot, taking in deep breaths like it would soften the intruding body part.

“Big – it’s too big, it’s not going to fit – “

“… You look cute when you cry.” It’s sinister, teasing and everything that makes your stomach drop. His thumb wipes away your tears that’s already staining your skin. But he stops regardless, if only to shut you up if nothing else.

You think a few minutes pass but it’s hard to tell when he’s still inside, pulsing and you could feel every vein on his cock. It’s thick, it’s big and you don’t think you’re equipped to handle it, handle him. He’s everything that ruins your sense of self, that makes your dreams shatter and fear rot you from the inside out.

But he’s your husband…

But he’s your husband.

“Relax,” he inches in deeper, slower this time, but not letting you get a word in. Your nails dig deeper, and if it weren’t for his shirt, you would have drawn blood. Another inch, another gasp that leaves you breathless, grasping for anything that could keep you grounded. The only thing you could grab was him, however.

“Dion, Dion, you’re going to break me, I can’t – I can’t – “

“You can. You have to.” Was his voice raspy, just now? If so, it worries you, because you just remembered one very important detail – Dion Argece was, if nothing else, a sadist. Be it from his childhood trauma, or if he would be like this regardless of, he loved seeing Roxana cried.

It never occurred to you that he would love seeing you cry, too.

How deep was he? It feels you’re being speared open, his cock bullying its way into your virgin hole. You weren’t a virgin in your last life, but it didn’t hurt like this. It had hurt, felt like you were being ripped, but not enough to make you cry and breathless.

You think you can feel blood trickling down your ass crack. “Please tell me you’re almost there, please…” sniffling, you look up at your husband, the man taking your virginity in the name of ‘marriage.’ A mirror shatters in the back of your mind.

There was a flush across his cheeks. Pupils blown wide and a small grin on his lips. He was enjoying this. Your pain, your tears and perhaps even your fear – he was enjoying this.

It would have been better if he didn’t feel anything, you think. Just a stone statue that was performing its task. But even monsters had emotions, you guess.

“I’m not. Just endure it for a bit longer – I’ll stop once I’m at the hilt.” Was he a liar in the novel? You think he was, otherwise, the overtaking of the Argece family wouldn’t have happened. Lant wouldn't be dead. But things haven’t followed the novel to a T – this was proof enough.

“You’ll stop? Like, completely? You – you took my virginity, so that should be enough. Right?”

You hate it when he keeps wiping your tears away. Or when he slides in even more, your blood coating his stupid dick. You hate it when he brings one hand to toy with your clit, granting you pleasure that was just overthrown by the smothering pain traveling up to your belly.

He doesn’t answer. And that was enough for you to rake your nails down the back of neck, drawing blood in return. He’s making you bleed, so it was only fair if you could too, right?

Deeper and deeper until his balls rest against your bottom and pelvic meeting yours. Surprisingly, your husband keeps his word, letting you adjust to the new feeling. It feels heavy. It feels like a heartbeat, like a rod that was stuck. It felt awful.

How long did it take you to get used to it, in the past? No longer than fifteen minutes max, right? No, shorter than that. Then again, it didn’t hurt this much, but that partner was more loving, more caring, gentler –

“Who are you thinking about?”

The question breaks you out of your daze. You blink, once, before you question him back. He only glares in response.

Panic fills you when he pulls out, pain still there, blood still trickling down. “Wait, you’re – “

“I’m what?” he pulls out until only the head remained inside. You try your best to ignore the bruising grip he has on your hips. You’re going to be sore tomorrow. If you survive this, anyway.

God, if you’re listening, please let this night end peacefully.

“B-big. It’s going to hurt, please don’t…” dragging your hands down from his neck to his chest, your fingers dig into his shirt.

“Hm. A shame, really; you still must give birth, eventually. It’s better to get used to it now than later.” Your mind doesn’t catch up with your body, legs tensing when he slides oh so carefully back in, like he didn’t just push your worries aside like nothing. “Relax.”

“Dion,” hiccupping, you brace yourself, head nuzzling into his chest as your hold on his shirt tightens. When he pulls back out, you could feel every detail, every vein trail, his grith truly opening you. He graces you a mercy, going at a languid pace, minimizing the pain. His thumb never stopped rubbing your clit, either.

It goes like that, for a good while. Slow and steady, your hushed sobs dying on your lips, your husband careful with his thrusts, but not his grip. It was almost comforting, in a way. But you were still scared of him, and of what will happen after this.

“… I have a proposition.”

His hips stop and your ears perk up.

“You want me to stop, correct?” Dion pulls back until he’s on his heels, his cock dragging along your walls. You wince before breathing out. He doesn’t even try to hide the sadistic look in his eye as he sees the dried tear streaks on your cheeks. He almost grins in glee.

“Y-yes…” You don’t let go of his shirt. “Why…?” there’s hope inside you, but dread starts to rot it away.

“Jerk it.”

“…what?”

He was different from the novel. Extremely so, because you doubt that Dion would suggest a thing, much less give you a choice in the matter. That Dion would have either ignored you and this night or take you as is, no mercy, no humanity granted if this took place at the beginning at the novel.

When he doesn’t repeat himself, you pull yourself up until you’re resting on your knees. The sight of blood both on his cock and the sheets make you gag and thankfully, he doesn’t comment on it. Hesitantly, you take him into your hands, fingers barely able to close around it.

It throbs in your hand.

Your blood is coating your hands now, too.

Only silence is between you, your hands working him. Your thumb swipes over his head, circling it before stroking his dick up and down. Your other hand plays with his balls, massaging them. You’re not sure how long it would take him to finish.

Your core throbs in pain, and you become worried over the thought of peeing. It would probably hurt.

You want to sleep.

Without giving it much thought, just like your husband, you spit on it, a glob of saliva falling onto the staff. It throbs harder. And when you look at him, tired eyes and drool still dripping down from your tongue, still jerking him off –

“…Ngh…”

It’s almost cute, the way sperm spurts out and makes a mess on your hands. The very small and fleeting look of embarrassment on his feature is almost enough to comfort you. But when there’s barely a sheen of sweat adoring his forehead, unlike you was still recovering, you’re reminded that your husband was different from you.

There are no kisses, no sweet nothings shared between lovers. No stroking your hair or comforting your trembling form as your legs shake. Or even an offer to warm a bath for you, the warm water soothing your body. There’s none of that.

Not even a smile.

“Welcome to the Argece family, wife.”

Instead, all that awaits you is a restless sleep on a bloodied mattress with a husband who left after cleaning himself up.

Which God despises you so much and why?

#dion agriche #dion argece #Dion x reader #yandere dion agriche #deon argece #dion agriche smut #the way to protect the female lead's older brother #twtptflob #deon agrece x reader

[sg-l]

👏🏻 Curse!Gojo 👏🏻 Curse!Gojo 👏🏻 Curse!Gojo 👏🏻

What's his way of showing you affection in this new cursed form? We talked about how he'd be a lap dog but like....is he just laying on top of you from time to time bc he loves you and needs to see your face??

Elaborate for the peeps in the back ☺️

- 🦦

・curse!Satoru Gojo Headcanons・

a/n・I'm so bad at formulating headcanons you know this?? also how did you find an otter emoji?? Fandom・Jujutsu Kaisen Character(s)・Satoru Gojo Tags・sloppy headcanons, curse!Gojo AU, fluff, unedited

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

curse!Gojo is...enormous

lets just get the physical implications of cursing the strongest jujutsu sorcerer in the world because curse!Gojo is...a lot

both in personality as well as sheer size and monstrous appearance

think...cursed Howl Pendragon, meets gluttonous No Face's limbs, owlbeast Eda Clawthorn shape with owlbeast Lilth Clawthron color palette and retractable neck

and I fully headcanon him as having no physical appearance of eyes/nose etc but a black banding around where his eyes should be and the rest of his faceless head is a very large un-hingable jaw with the rest of his face being "splashed" in white before transitioning to the bulk of his dark body

ok ok ok enough about the way the curse looks; and more about the way he acts!

like most cursed souls curse!Gojo is dangerously obsessed with you

you are his only purpose in life as well as the only thing tying him to a physical "life" and his animal instinct will not let that bond be broken no matter the cost

curse!Gojo basically feels no pain and it's scarier to see in action than it is to just think he's a stubborn fighter

he is insanely affectionate; to the point it's smothering

ideally he'd be sealed away in a cursed object but nothing can hold all of him (to no one's surprise)

so that being said curse!Gojo does at time have the annoying nuances of a shikigami or a familiar but make it 1000x worse

giant lap dog 🤝 pissy cat 🤝 needy brat

curse!Gojo likes to show his affection by planting himself right behind you and more times than not laying a part of his grotesques form on you

no idea about his actual size nor would he care if you tried to explain it to him because he just won't listen

curse!Gojo wants to be touching you at some point all the time or else he does get practically...antsy

not a good idea for him to be restless, it's in everyone's best interest for curse!Gojo to remain calm as long as possible

brings you dead curses and to no one surprise, likes to play with them! he will make it a point to have you watch him disembody things.

People, curses, animals...the only thing curse!Gojo will not touch is young individuals

that's a post for later

his ideal way to have your attention is to absolutely maul your target into a pulp right in front of you and frankly there's no other way for him to kill besides over the top right in front of you

on a less gruesome note, yes, he insists on sleeping with you

curse!Gojo thankfully has very little intention of suffocating you so he's happy to have you lay on top of him or curls up around you as the biggest spoon in the world

regretfully curse!Gojo does lick and drool when overtly excited and talks in the fastest string of broken sentences any being could

you get real good at understanding the gibberish don't worry

curse!Gojo loves "self care" and by that it means he loves having you hold his face, pick things out of his teeth, booping his non existent nose and giving him forehead kisses

exceptionally fond of carrying you and pouts when you don't let him hold you 24/7

and the most horrifying thing curse!Gojo loves to show his affection is...play wrestling

don't worry he basically just wants to engulf you in a hug and roll around with you but it can be off putting to those who are not familiar with either of you two yet

#wifey 🦦 ♡ #idk that's the tag you get lol but guess who's not shutting up about curse!Gojo !!! #its me im not shutting up about it #curse!gojo au #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo saturo #jjk satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x you #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen

[vesta-ria]

No escape; Genshin x Reader SAGAU (Part 1; reader focus)

Hi everyone, how are you? It’s my first post and I tried to be poetic and deep but I’m pretty sure it was not good :(

GN reader (no pronouns mentioned; at least I don’t think)

Sagau imposter au, angst, hurt/no comfort

Fic below the cut!

⇨ 𝕀 𝕕𝕠 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕕𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕤 ⇦

You were wounded, tired, starving. But they still won't stop chasing you. You have no idea what you did wrong. As for how you ended up in this situation... you have no idea either.

It has been 7... 8? Days? Weeks? You've lost all concept of time, all you knew was to run, to hide, to find any scrap of food that you can.

Let's rewind a bit.

Some time ago, you were isekai'd into the world of Genshin Impact. Before all this, Genshin Impact was your favorite game, your escape from reality. It's ironic how your escape from reality became your nightmarish reality.

The last memory you have of your actual reality was of you scrolling on your phone before dozing off. When you woke up, you were in the middle of nowhere.

You've read fanfiction before, of course, you have. You've been obsessed with this game for ages. Would you call yourself a whale? Probably not, but other people certainly will. The point is, you were familiar with the SAGAU genre of fanfiction. You knew how much danger you were in, and you also knew that the land of Teyvat will cater to your every need

You may not have regretted spending money on the game at that time, but that was you in the past. You've been chased all through the land of Teyvat. The nations of Monstadt, Liyue, and Inazuma all have you as their most wanted criminal. You're grateful - no, extremely thankful that Sumeru has not joined in on the hunt. If you ever make it back home, you'll make sure the Sumeru characters have the best weapons and artifacts.

You hoped to get some rest along the river, and as usual, the land of Teyvat catered to your every need. The tree you were leaning on leaned forward to provide some shade, and a cool breeze washed upon you as a sunsettia fruit fell from the tree. You picked it up and began eating, enjoying the rare moment of peace.

Sadly, all good things come to an end. Your rare moment of peace came to an end when you were spotted by the Monstadt army led by the Acting Grand Master. And so, you were back to running.

You ran, and ran, and ran. Where could you possibly go? There were people in the 3 nations that are willing to help you, but their leaders didn't. Sumeru was too far away there was no way you could go there. And even if you did, it's unlikely they would help you, what would they do? Say you're not an imposter and declare war with the 3 nations?

You had nowhere else to go, they had already informed Liyue and Inazuma of your location, and they were circling you.

This is the end, isn't it? You had nowhere else to run, Teyvat can't help you now. You knew there was no escape from this, but still, you hoped at the bottom of your heart that you were able to summon the help of the many creatures of Teyvat to save you, to let you live for another day. And just maybe, in that extra day, you could be teleported back to your reality.

No matter how much Teyvat tried to save you from your impending doom, they were no match for the 3 archons filled with determination to kill you.

You gave up, there was no other choice. They had found you, and they captured you, you didn't struggle, you didn't fight, you didn't attempt to flee.

There are five stages of accepting the inevitable.

Denial; "This couldn't be happening, I- I mean, those were fiction, they were supposed to be fiction..." is what you would tell yourself most nights when they stopped chasing you.

Anger; "How could you do this? I spent so much money on you, I DEDICATED MY ENTIRE LIFE TO YOU" is what you once yelled at them when you were almost caught.

Bargaining; "This is just a dream, a really bad dream. I'm going to wake up, soon. Soon enough..." you tried to convince yourself, but you knew it wasn't true.

Depression; You cried your eyes out, a lot. You saw no reason to continue. But you still carried on, with that faint hope that it would all be over soon.

Acceptance; "Fine, you got me. I won't fight anymore. Kill me, or do whatever you want. I'm done with this world, just get me out of here" is what you told them before being dragged out to your execution.

"Today we are here to execute the perpetrator of the worst crime that can be committed, impersonating our divine creator." You heard the Tianquan of the Liyue Qixing - Ningguang announce to her people. You guessed the execution is taking place in Liyue, you don't remember the landscape anymore, you don't want to remember.

"The divine creator has not been in contact with us ever since the imposter has been sighted within the lands of Teyvat. It is only reasonable that we assume the imposter had something to do with the divine creator's disappearance." This time it was Jean speaking, but it didn't matter. No matter who was speaking, the content is the same. You were an imposter.

They put you through every torture method possible, they broke your bones and blinded you. You still couldn't die.

Why? Why must this happen to you?

It had gone on for so long that you no longer felt pain, it was numb, everything was numb. You can barely hear anything. When they finally pierced a polearm through your heart, you didn't feel anything. Just the same numbness. 

The voice in your head got quieter, and quieter. Until it was completely silent.

Finally, at last.

Peace.

HI EVERYONE, feel free to request some ideas. I have 2 other parts of this fanfic planned I just don’t know when I’d post it so stay tuned if you enjoy reading this :)

#genshin #genshin impact #sagau #imposter au #imposter!au #sagau imposter #sagau impostor au #angst #genshin angst #sagau creator #sagau creator au #genshin sagau

[etheries1015]

I’m sorry for breaking into your inbox but I LOVE your obey me x twisted wonderland crossover. I want read more of it! How is Lucifer and the boys going to react? AHH! IM SO EXCITED!

Take your time tho! No rush!

I’m Achyls btw! Take care of yourself!

I'm glad you enjoyed it! Maybe I'll make a second part of a reaction, however in my mind I believe it would be best interpreted as...Lucifer and the brothers find a way to return MC back home, however unable to keep open that portal between worlds long enough for them to truly HAVE a reaction.

But I have two ideas that could be possibly interesting:

1) MC AND the brothers (or just lucifer) somehow become stuck in twisted wonderland as well, via same...mysterious .... Way that MC had come by, or during the attempt of returning MC. (Maybe they also lose their powers coming to Twisted wonderland, or not. Maybe they are SO powerful they manage to break this law.)

OR

2) Twist characters reaction to MC being dragged back to devildom after successfully summoning Lucifer

Bonus idea thats been stuck on my noggon:

Imagine Solomon and MC dating and MC transports to either Twisted wonderland or Arcana Twilight...now I think that would be an interesting idea. Solomon I see as someone who is so fiercely loyal and (border line obsessed) with MC that best know he WILL find a way to you. And once he does, the reactions if the characters when you two finally embrace and hold a deep kiss after reuniting... Is bound to be incredibly hillarious, especially with MC being at the center of everyone's affections.

Now I want to write an Obey me x Arcana twilight crossover with this idea... Eheuueueu

Take care of yourself as well!

#Arcana twilight #Obey me #Obey me shall we date #Twisted wonderland #obey me x twst #obey me x twisted wonderland #lucifer obey me #Arcana twilight x obey me #solomon #Obey me solomon #solomon obey me

[chawarin-panich]

Totally OBSESSED with Mew in Sand's POOR BOY shirt, sleeping next to Ray and Ray finding that so extremely irresistible that he did something that he knew was 1) morally wrong and more importantly against his own moral code and 2) would definitely not be received well. And this is not a run of the mill occurrence either because Mew would definitely not stand for it happening twice and also Ray re-confesses his feelings, meaning that up until this point Mew didn't know that Ray was still harboring feelings for him. One of the things I was trying to get at with my Ray character study fic (yes you should read it!! I put my whole heart into it) is this idea that Ray doesn't see Mew and Sand existing on the same paradigm of his life and therefore his feelings for Mew and Sand are not actually in conflict (in his mind). The reason why I thought that was because of how uncomfortable he looks in this scene where he's directly put into a situation where he has to choose between them. There are many ways he could have handled this situation that wasn't this poorly. For a person who knows just how effective his little puppy eyes are against Sand he's totally rendered useless to using it. He can barely make eye contact, he does a needlessly poor job of explaining the situation, almost like he's trying not to explain, trying not to acknowledge how he's in a situation where Mew and Sand are both vying for his attention. He does end up telling Sand the truth but does it in this extremely awkward, stilted way that makes Sand feels extremely unwanted.

Because the thing is, there is no way he can like Sand for real if he and Mew co-exist. There is no one he can love more than Mew, Mew who is his emergency contact, Mew who loves him in a way his mother failed to do, Mew who saved his life and Mew who still doesn't find him desirable as a romantic partner. This is the absolute most a person can love him (in his mind) and so whatever Sand feels for him, lust, pity, affection is still and will always have to be (in his mind) at a lower sum total. But I digress, you see a similar discomfort on his face when Mew holds up the POOR BOY shirt at him and then he says nothing at all about it. Yes, he's probably just trying to hide that him and Sand have been in a situation where they would share clothes to avoid being teased. But also, the night he actually absconded with this shirt he did not have sex with Sand so he chooses avoidance once more where simply acknowledging the truth and Sand's friendship would have been just as easy if not easier.

And the whole time that Ray is building it up to kiss sleeping Mew, Khaotung is focusing entirely on staring at Book's face but for just the briefest of second right before he does it he looks down, which could be at Mew's lips but I think the gaze goes down past to the shirt. Khaotung does make such intentional acting choices that I'm inclined to believe that it was a moment of those world's (Sand and Mew) colliding for Ray and him forgetting who he is with and more importantly who the feelings are for that he's sitting with in this moment.

Mew challenges him later as to why he would do it if he knew it was wrong and once more he was totally unable to admit to this moment of weakness, because how do you even explain that

Sand unintentionally outlines Ray's major character conflict in this show and I find it so fascinating that the word he used is prioritization not choosing which are fundamentally different things. Because choosing would be simple. Ray would choose Mew in a heartbeat but no one is actually making him choose between them. Mew has as firmly as humanly possible shut that door on him long before Sand was even in the picture. Mew is his best friend and Sand is his lover, by definition they will have to co-exist in Ray's life and he will have to distinguish what he feels for them and come to recognize both forms of love as valuable and important, maybe will have prioritize between them at times but he's not meant to actually leave either of them behind... but how does one do that? Ray who only ever really learnt how to be left behind - how will he ever know to do that?

#only friends meta #only friends the series #ofts #sandray meta #sandray #raymew #nani's hot takes #you guys have no idea how many meta i have inside me #and fics #i am an open would for this disaster boy

[total-drama-brainrot]

Total Drama Psycho Noah AU, what if Sierra (who knew everything about everybody) tried to warn Heather + Alejandro NOT to mess with Noah, cause he's a total psychopath (but they don't believe her) ... Sierra doesn't have to worry about Cody getting hurt, cause he's a sweet boy, and Noah only hurts people that attack him first... What if after Heather + Alejandro later learns the truth, Sierra simply tells the duo: "I told you so..." 😒

You're so right about Sierra being one of the few who's In The Know about p!Noah (without his express input), thanks to her superfan status.

Sierra throws a bit of a wrench into this whole AU, really. Because there'd need to be justification for her either not saying anything about Noah's true colours, or having the others not believe her claims about Noah despite it being abundantly clear that her knowledge on them is pretty infallible.

But.

Playing in to the whole 'obsessive superfan' thing, Sierra wouldn't want to jeopardise the ruse Noah's so carefully crafted if he were, say, one of her favourite characters.

Because Noah (every version of Noah) is a fairly private person, all things considered. She doesn't have a lot of information to go off of- not in comparison to the fountain of knowledge she has about the rest of the cast, at least- but she does know that he must be keeping his true colours a secret for a reason. Would you want to ruin someone's carefully laid web of deception when it's been one of the most entertaining aspects of the show thus far?

Or.

You could take it down another route, and have Sierra outright dislike Noah because he's A Danger to her beloved cast, but have this dislike become evident before she can warn the others; Sierra's pretty crazy herself, so the cast would dismiss her warnings are her trying to rally them against the person she so clearly hates instead of a genuine effort to keep them safe. After all, wouldn't it be in character for someone as evidently unstable as Sierra to lie and spread 'baseless rumours' about the person she clearly despises?

(That second option's fun, because it adds an aspect of dramatic irony for the audience both in-universe and IRL; they/we know that Sierra's right, so her struggle to be listened to would be almost Cassandra-esque.)

Either way, she'd make a point of staying as far away as possible from Noah. Because Sierra (like the rest of the in-universe audience) are working under the impression that Noah's a ticking time-bomb, a constant threat of incredible violence against the cast, since that's exactly what Noah painted himself as during his confessionals. (Speaking of confessionals, I do have a justification as to why the contestants eliminated before Noah are also unaware of his unhingedness, that I'll cover in it's own post.) That's not entirely true, of course; Noah's a psychopath with a grimdark sense of humour, sure, but he's not about to start randomly attacking people in bouts of spontaneous hysteria- but the audience, and therefore Sierra, don't have the comfort of that little tidbit of information.

It all circles back to Noah being a private person. He holds his cards close to his chest; in this case, the audience knows what he's capable of, but they don't know that a lot of his Baby Craves Violence act is just that- an act. A joke he's pulling on the viewing world, that he admittedly gets a little too into to. The perils of being dedicated to the bit. Not that he doesn't have the occasional urge to commit felonies and acts of brutality against others, but he's got enough self-control to redirect that energy into causing less destructive chaos (most of the time).

-

So when his true colours are eventually revealed? Sierra is so vindicated, she almost forgets the danger (she thinks) she's in. Almost.

(In the context of the second option;) She's spent the majority of the season thus far warning the others against Noah, only to have her good intentions brushed aside time and time again (which, ouch! Imagine trying to help the people you idolise enough to literally stalk throw your concern for their safety back in your face) by their incredulity. Being proven to have been in the right the entire time would be a power trip and a half, because it'd validate her skills as the unofficial-official expert on all things Total Drama and she'd get to shove the consistent rebuffs back in the others' faces.

It's a shame she'd be so dead-set on disliking Noah on principle, because the two of them could be great friends. If Sierra had a stronger craving for chaos and disorder, she could form a Terror Trio with Noah and Izzy.

#in conclusion; sierra goes through her cassandra arc and comes out of it even more assured that her stalking is a Good Thing #i believe in women's wrongs. sierra should get worse. #total drama #td sierra #td noah #psycho!noah au #others' ideas #silly ideas #character analysis #⬅ somewhat? #replies

[sweaterweatherever]

could you maybe do a Tyler request that's sort of similar to the This Thing of Ours but when Tyler turns on Wednesday the reader sides with him because they've had their own agenda the whole time? im so sorry if it's too broad i just thought it would b an idea for more Tyler ones!!

Master (Tyler Galpin x Reader)

Pairing: Tyler Galpin x AFAB Reader

Warnings: Reader’s mother gets killed. Cursing. Canon typical violence. Reader gets a gun. Dark reader, dark Tyler. Smut. Masturbation. Unprotected vaginal sex. Don’t try any of this at home. Aged up characters.

A/N: I always thought any kind of prank enjoyed by high schoolers was mean, so I stand by saying Tyler has a mean streak. After this we are taking a break from him. Also, wordy, and don’t throw guns on the floor, they might go off. Been getting bolder with the whole monster fucker thing.

Requested: Yep. What better agenda than revenge? Also, to the shadows + stalking anon.

You never liked the barista at the Wethervane. He was, much like every other normie in Jericho, an asshole. You had been in the town long enough to notice. Sure, now everyone was buying his good guy act, but you remembered. You would always remember.

You see, you two had met when you both were little. Your mom used to be around the Galpin’s a lot, since she worked as a secretary on the Sheriff’s department. Often, she had to drop papers for the Sheriff to sign off, and that made her meet Tyler’s mother. Francoise was a lovely woman, but there was a sadness to her, a loneliness, that wouldn’t go away. She desperately needed friends. In a tiny town like Jericho, being an outcast and a single mother wasn’t easy, so your mom wasn’t popular either. She tried not to advertise the fact, but it was evident that something was off about her, with the way you both seemed to suck the light of every room you stepped into.

Two lonely women, who saw each other frequently. The result was predictable: They bonded over their shared characteristics, started meeting for coffee. Both mothers, both outcasts, even if you didn’t know it at the time. Unfortunately for you, it’s a truth universally know that every pair of mothers who become friends try to set up a play date for their children.

At five years old, you had been a very different creature than what you were now. You had been quiet, shy even, and obsessed with dolls. You spent hours dressing them, brushing their hair, playing pretend. Normal child behavior, even if a bit of your mother’s isolation from the world showed in the fact you weren’t used to playing with others. Tyler, though, he was. Typical boy, rowdy, loud and not normal. There was something in the way he moved, his smile showing far too pointy canines for a six-year-old, that made your senses stand on edge. A bully, you thought, seeing him for the first time. He looked like the boys who pushed girls down the slide at the park just to scare them.

In his mother’s eyes, Tyler could do no wrong. To Francoise, his toothy grin was just excitement, his odd way of moving was simply a boy being a boy. She was overjoyed she had been able to carry him to term, Francoise explained to your mother, she had such weak health. She always woke up tired, these days, with unexplained bruises and leaves in her hair. Maybe she was going crazy, perhaps she was anemic, possibly a sleepwalker, the doctors said. And so, she didn’t notice the little monster she was raising.

You had been told to be nice, to be friendly. Your mother liked Francoise, and wouldn’t it be nice if you got a friend of your own? The idea certainly appealed to you, made you willing to try. Maybe Tyler wasn’t so bad, Miss Katherine at school always said you shouldn’t judge a book by his cover.

“Do you want to play?” You had asked, offering him one of your dolls. Tyler had shaken his head.

“Dolls are silly.” Tyler said to you, shocking you deeply. You loved your dolls, and your mom, who was very into the early stimulation trend for kids, had always encouraged you to play with them, making up scenarios. It was good for creativity, she said. You didn’t know what the word meant yet, but it sounded fancy and adult like. You guessed it was a good thing. “They are for little girls.”

You wanted him to think you were cool, you wanted him to like you. A friend, mom had said. A friend of your own, someone to play with, a kid who wouldn’t be weirded out by the way your mere presence made the shadows get bigger and the fact that you weren’t afraid of the dark. So, you asked:

“What can we play?”

“Hide and seek!” He smiled, showing a toothy grin. Tyler was missing his front left teeth, and it made him look softer, endearing. It also highlighted your slight age difference, to a kid, a year was a lifetime. Older was almost always synonymous with cool, too.

“Sure.” You answered, looking around his backyard. You had never played hide and seek before, but you had watched other kids do it. The backyard was small, with not really many places to hide.

“Come on!” Tyler had said, and grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the path that lead to the forest. You didn’t protest, even knowing you would get in trouble if your mother found out. Even if the darkness did not scare you, even if shadows were your friends, she didn’t like you wandering around on your own. There were men with guns there, and bears. And not, like, Pooh. Mean bears. “I’ll count!”

Tyler seemed to know his way around the forest better than most kids your ages, but so did you. He started to lead you deeper into the trees, in twisting paths that made it hard to remember where were you.

“I’ll count to ten, and you have to hide, and not come out until I find you.” Tyler explained. “You can hide in a cave or something.” He added, a hint of maliciousness on his tone. Jericho’s forest was full of caves, unusually so.

“I…” Your expression probably told him you weren’t sure about it because he pounced on the perceived weakness.

“Don’t be a baby!” Tyler laughed. It sounded strange, mean even, in the quiet of the forest. Even in broad daylight, the only thing that could be heard was the chirping of some birds. “Or are you scared of the dark?”

“No. I’m not.” Tyler didn’t respond, instead choosing to start counting. You hurried to find a place to hide, deciding to stay behind a tree. The silent felt strange, the whole thing was weird. You were hyper alert to any sound, from the crunching of the leaves to the way the wind blew between leaves.

“Nine.” He waited a bit, his voice sounded excited. Maybe it was the way the sound carried here what made it sound so unusual, twisting around the trees and into the open, the city’s noise far away. “Ten! Here I come!” His sneakers crunched on the leaves, sounding closer than ever. Your heart raced in your chest, a ringing in your small ears. You had never seen the point of the game before, but you knew some people liked getting scared, that was what scary movies were for, your mom told you.

You ran away, ducking just in time behind another tree, pushing your hands against your mouth to avoid making noise. Tyler approached again, and so, it got started. There was something odd, something wrong with this. You didn’t feel like you were playing a game, you felt like if he caught up with you, something bad would happen. Like the scariest thing in the forest was him. Back then, you were too young to understand, but you felt hunted. Like he was a predator and you were nothing more than prey.

After a while, you found yourself in front of a cave. Just as you hesitated whether you should enter or not, someone pushed you in and frightened you terribly. You barely felt the tiny hands against your back. You fell, knees scraping against the stone. A little scream left your throat, and you tried to turn around to get out, lips trembling and eyes filling with tears. But just as you were about to exit the cave, a rock rolled in front of it, taking all the light with it. There was only one other person that could be responsible for this, and only one person that knew where you were. What if you never got out now?

Your first instinct was panic. Like any normal five-year-old, you didn’t like enclosed spaces, and much less being trapped. But instead of screaming, you remembered the reason all other kids hated you, why you were so alone: Because shadows were your friends. You took a deep breath and stayed very calm. Your eyes got used to the dark quickly, much like a cat would. With this, you realized two things. The cave was small, so much you could barely stand inside it. And the thing at the door? It wasn’t a rock. It was only cardboard. Feeling very silly once again, you pushed it away, and crawled out, into the expecting arms of Tyler.

“You aren’t crying.” He stated, looking at your ruined pair of jeans, bloody at the knees, and your tearless face. Tyler seemed angry, cheeks red, as if your lack of tears offended him. You hated him then.

“You are mean.” You said, with all the seriousness and insulting tone a five-year-old could have. “I don’t like you.”

“Oh, did baby got scared?” One of his hands went to tangle in your hair, tugging hard on your ponytail. “If you snitch, you get stitches.”

The sting brought tears to your eyes, but you stared him down anyway.

“Stay away from me! I’m telling my mom!”

“Baby is scared.” Tyler gave you a mocking, concerned look. You took a step back. There was something in his eyes that scared you, a darkness no six-year-old should have. ”If you tell, you will hurt.” And with one last push that made you stumble, he walked away.

You stayed in the forest, and only when he got far enough not to hear you anymore, you broke down and started sobbing. Safe to say, you never played with him again.

You feared Tyler for long afterward. Your fear of him only got better in middle school, when the year between you seemed less like an unbreachable distance. Tyler got sneakier at getting his way, then. He ran with the popular crowd, the one likely to bully and play nasty pranks on younger students and eventually, outcasts. Tyler was an asshole, but one that had gotten better at masking his intentions, behind the mask of a popular boy. Everyone was charmed by him, but you didn’t forget the way his eyes had made you feel, years ago.

Unknown to you, Tyler watched you, too. Your lack of fear and ability to keep a clear head when he had tried to scare you made you intriguing. He didn’t forget the defiance in your eyes when he had pulled your hair hard enough to make you shed tears. At first, it had been intrigue. No other kid had resisted him before, girl or boy. A tiny slip of a thing like you, managing to get out by herself? That had caught his attention. He had wanted to scare you so badly, but never acted on those impulses, even when he had plenty of opportunities. You sat alone at recess all the time, and never noticed him watching you. Then, adolescence started, and he got hormones. You had been brave as a five-year-old, and now you were brave and pretty, slowly blossoming into womanhood. His first crush was on you. But you never once looked at him.

Tyler’s mom died when you just got into high school. Your mother grieved her deeply, but never once shared the secret of what had killed her with you. Tyler got nastier. Alcohol, grief, and the usual power plays of high school added gasoline to his fire, he was everyone’s favorite bad boy. He went through girls like they were disposable, using and discarding them. His friends and he got drunk, pulled stupid pranks, targeting the outcasts from the nearby school more and more. His father made him untouchable, and you knew, you knew Sheriff Galpin regretted the path both had walked on. It was about that time you got into Nevermore, and started keeping a closer eye on him. If he did something terrible, were you responsible too? For not speaking up, despite knowing what he was capable of?

You never talked to him. But you knew he was keeping an eye on you. Out of all your friend group in Nevermore, you were the only one who never got targeted by his gang. It was so noticeable, people started to talk about it. You refused to comment, but you knew, you knew, it wasn’t out of friendship or some misplaced guilt. It was because he liked making you uncomfortable, liked the rumors going around, that you were his. Liked seeing you scared, trembling, every time a prank fell on one of your friends, and you ended up unscathed. He liked scaring you with the anticipation of what was to come.

Then, he went too far. Picture the scene. Outreach day, sunny skies, volunteers everywhere. Your post was at the Pilgrim World, serving tourists. A kid, a popular one at that, gets asked to paint a mural. He does, and does it well. So of course, Tyler has to go and ruin it. The charges are as follows: Destruction of private property, vandalism, assault. He is the son of the Sheriff, and Jericho’s high golden boy. A young man with a promising future, the star of the football team. His dad calls some favors, he is white and charming. The charges get dropped, no smear on his record, but off to bootcamp he goes.

For the first time in years, you breathe in relief. Finally, you don’t have to look over your shoulder all the time, answer pointed questions as to what exactly your relationship with him was. Because it’s good, too good to be true, someone has to go and ruin it.

Your mother’s funeral takes place in a sunny day, for Jericho’s standards. It feels almost mocking, to the woman she was, to the woman in which you are becoming. The kind of woman who sucks all light in a room. Your father’s new, normie, uncomplicated wife, stands next to you, two young pretty things in mourning. You hate her, oh, how you hate her.

“We want to avoid uprooting you, sweetheart. Nevermore is the best school in the country for people like you.” Your father explains, as he moves to your mother’s bedroom, as he puts his new wife on the bed. “But you can’t stay here alone, either… What happened to your mother… Jericho’s a dangerous place.”

It’s always like that. What happened to your mother, her tragic passing, she was taken from you too young. It’s never the cold, hard truth you desperately need. Some psycho killed your mother, injection of poison right at the neck. But no one says that. No one dares say your mother was murdered, no one dares speak without pretty euphemisms. You understand Tyler’s anger then.

You learn things, in the following months. First, that your reaction isn’t normal. Normal teenagers don’t obsess over revenge when their mothers are killed. Off to therapy you go. Then, that poison is a woman’s weapon. Easy, clean, no need for overpowering. Third, breaking in and stealing case files is ridiculously easy when the Sheriff has a soft spot for you, remembering how your mother used to be friends with his wife, her tragic passing and your uncanny resemblance. Fourth, that the psycho who killed your mother wasn’t satisfied with injecting her with a syringe filled with concentrated Nightshade, but that they also took her hand. As if killing her wasn’t enough, as if they needed to profane her body too.

The new herbology teacher shows up. Her special interest in your abilities, the plants she keeps in her greenhouse, the fact that is a she. It all drags you to a disgusting conclusion: You think she did it, but you can’t prove it. And if it wasn’t enough with danger lurking the halls of Nevermore, you cross paths once again with the monster in your nightmares.

You are coming out of Doctor Kinbott’s office, after a long and tiring talk about your relationship with your stepmother. You like the doctor. She always has a cup of hot chocolate for you, and cookies. She is nice, she smiles at you, uncaring that when you are uncomfortable the lights flicker and the room gets darker. You open up to her.

“Hi.” Tyler says your name, repeats it even, but you are too busy gawking at him to respond. His hair is shorter, and he has gotten taller and more muscled. Bootcamp did him good. If before he was handsome, now he is even prettier. You know half the town must be swooning for him. The darkness in his eyes, though, it is unchanged. Tyler tries to hide it behind a polite smile, but you can tell he is thrilled at your reaction.

The cup of hot chocolate slips through your hands, shattering against the floor, liquid staining the carpet. You drop to your knees, trying to clean it up, and he kneels next to you. “Careful.” Tyler says, grabbing your wrist, and you scramble back so hard and fast, you hand cuts with one of the porcelain pieces. Blood drips down your fingers and into his. “We don’t want you cutting yourself, but it is too late for that…” He finishes. His pupils dilate, nostrils flaring, almost if he can smell your fear, but you refuse to back away once again and give him the satisfaction. You freeze in his grasp. A bunny under headlights.

“Oh, dear!” Doctor Kinbott says, lured out of her office by all the ruckus. “It seems you have met each other in quite the way!” She laughs, high and airy. “Nine and half, meet ten and half!”

That brings you out of your daze, and you get up on unsteady legs. You mutter something polite. Tyler, ever the gentleman, helps you to your feet. You cradle your injured hand, shake his. Your blood stains his fingers. You look up at him and keep the eye contact: You both know what it means. I will be watching.

Doctor Kinbott is your safe place. You can tell her almost all that troubles you, almost all because you keep secret your nagging suspicions about Mrs. Thornhill. And so, you tell her about Tyler.

“I don’t like him.” You say to her, after your fourth run in with him in a week. Turns out, now he is the barista at the Weathervane, the only café in town. Can’t you just catch a break? “He… He scares me.”

“Why do you think that is?” She asks, eyes soft and never judging. “Is it because he saw you here or because he has shown interest in you?” Of course, she thinks you are afraid of everyone knowing you go to therapy or intimacy.

“No. You have to promise not to tell him, though…” You offer and she smiles at you brightly.

“Patient – Therapist confidentiality is a given here, even if the other person involved is also my patient. I would never discuss something you tell me with him. This is a safe space.” The doctor smiles kindly, and slides you another cookie. You don’t take it.

“It is because we met before. And he made me feel like prey.” You clutch your hot chocolate closer, and start telling her the story of Tyler Galpin.

Kinbott thinks you should be away from Tyler. She doesn’t tell you what he has told her, but you know the story you told her has made the missing piece of the puzzle fit into place. She moves his appointment to Saturdays instead. Not only that, but she looks afraid. For your safety, maybe? She talks to your dad, and he starts escorting you in and out the building, and when the semester starts, that duty falls to principal Weems.

You start watching him, obsessively, then. The shadows have always been your friends, they don’t mind helping you. You sneak out of Nevermore, and sit long hours perched on the ledge of a nearby building, doing homework and stealing glances at him working behind the counter. It’s soothing, being the one watching for a chance. You feel safer, knowing exactly where he is at a given time, cloaked in your shadows. Doctor Kinbott remains unknowing of your new habit because you know she would want you to stop. She would be both concerned because it’s unhealthy and because she thinks Tyler will hurt you. She is right on both accounts.

One day, your normal routine is interrupted because a car pulls over at the Weathervane. Your heart accelerates, beating harder and harder when you realize who is driving. The redheaded, awful, bitch that murdered your mother. You consider warning Tyler, when you see him being friendly to her, but decide against it because you aren’t sure who out of the two of them is more dangerous.

After that, your stalking gets more intentional. They have to be planning something, it’s weird how much time they spend together. She… She seems to like him, she handles him in a way that makes you want to scream, or tell his father. There is something in the way Thornhill touches him that feels dirty, her hands like claws on his arm, his shoulders, anywhere she can reach. You shouldn’t worry about him, this terror of a boy, but you do. The thoughts get confusing, and so, you decide to drop your stalking habits.

The day is an unusually cold one, and so, your friends decide to make a stop at the Weathervane. You don’t have an excuse to wait outside, with the first drops of rain starting to fall. You burrow yourself more inside your coat and trail after Divina and Kent into the café.

“…I’m thinking of getting a caramel latte, and maybe a cinnamon roll?” Divina chatters on, excitedly. She is overjoyed, she has always loved rain. Any water is good water, that’s what sirens always say.

“Don’t you think is way too much sugar? Your teeth will rot.” Kent answers, pulling the door open for the both of you. “What do you think?” He asks you, and you try to form a coherent response that surpasses your fight or flight instinct.

“Yeah, yeah. Next thing you know, she gets diabetes.” You answer, but your attention is not in the conversation. Instead, it is in the boy behind the counter.

Tyler looks just about the same as always, brown polo shirt clinging to his shoulders, apron neatly tied back. But the bruises and the scratches on his arms, those are new. So is the look of pure panic he is sporting, trying to hide it behind a mask of normalcy you know too well. The same one you have worn every day since your mother was murdered. Something rumbles in your stomach, something both possessive and dark. He isn’t supposed to be scared, Tyler is the one to inspire terror in others, not the reverse. And if he is going to be scared, why should other people have the satisfaction? You deserve his fear, after spending twelve years of your life fucking terrified of him from his stunt in the woods. Besides you, no one should be able to scare him.

“We will have a caramel latte, a mocha with an extra shot of espresso and a chai tea. Also, two cinnamon rolls.” Divina says, without even saying good morning. It doesn’t sit right with you. Your policy with anyone working customer service is treating them like a person. Divina is not mean or rude, but she doesn’t think before she speaks most of the time. So, even if this is Tyler, alias your personal nightmare, Galpin, you feel the need to add:

“Good morning, and please.” And smile a little, too. Tyler smiles back, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He isn’t paying attention, not even to you. You try to make small chat, but he shifts and avoids any attempt at it. Maybe he thinks this is a power play, too.

When he extends his hand to pass Divina the change, you notice his wrist is purple and green, almost as if he were held too roughly. You wonder what could possibly leave bruises in a pattern so odd.

“Man, did you see his bruises?” Divina loudly whispers when you are walking back to the table. You say nothing. Next to you, Kent snickers.

“Yeah. Who knew Jericho’s golden boy was that kinky?”

“What are you talking about?” You really don’t understand what they are talking about, but their silly mood is contagious. You can’t help but smile.

“Oh, you sweet summer child…” Divina pats your hair. “The bruises on his wrists, those are from shackles.”

Kent laughs. Suddenly, you aren’t smiling anymore.

The first body is discovered only a few days later. The press comments on the attack, hinting at a possible serial killer because isn’t it odd the killer took a foot? This time, your choice of stalking victim is Mrs. Thornhill. But regardless of what you do, she always manages to slip away. And the times she does, a body turns up a few days later, random body part missing.

Your anxiousness must show. Doctor Kinbott comments on it, but you don’t dare tell her. You don’t have the proof. Your therapy rides with Principal Weems get crashed by a pig tailed girl with the name of Wednesday. Her arrival late in the semester puts the school upside down. It’s not hard, to find out she is trying to solve the mystery of the murders.

The next time Weems takes you both to therapy, you slip her your mother’s file.

“Here.” You say to her, trying not catch the attention of the Principal driving you. You pass her a folder, in sober blue. “The notes you asked for.”

“I didn’t ask you…”

“You did. After Rowan’s accident. You were murderous when it happened.” You hope she catches the hint, and Wednesday does not disappoint, grabbing the folder with eager hands.

“Oh, right. I must have forgotten. Thank you.”

In big black letters, just before the detailed autopsy report, you placed your warning: Different MO, same signature. Killer might be closer than you think.

You hope Wednesday can get the proof you need, but you don’t want to lead her on, so you don’t name your suspect.

Tyler shows up at the Rave’n on Wednesday’s arm. He looks better, less bruised and more confident. Your eyes lock across the room, in the middle of your dance with Kent. His lips part, almost as if he were about to mouth something and decides against it at the last minute. Kent pulls you towards his chest, chin hooked over your shoulder.

“What are you staring at?” He asks, following your gaze. For someone who negates the existence of romantic love, he is quite the gossip. “Doesn’t golden boy over there has his own, dark, date to ogle?”

“He has, yes.” You answer, still holding eye contact with Tyler. He has an odd expression on his face, almost as if he has been punched. He looks good tonight, you aren’t going to lie to yourself and say you don’t find him attractive because he is. Shame that you know exactly what lurks beneath the pretty face.

“Seems like our boy has a type. Likes them dark, menacing and tiny.” Kent pokes at your ribs, still with his head on your shoulder. It makes the whole thing awkward because your body arches trying to get away from his touch, but you don't want him falling down either. It looks funny, you know that because Tyler smiles slightly.

“Asshole.” You break eye contact with Tyler to push Kent away. “Not tiny.”

“I’ll stop calling you tiny if, when you fuck him, you share details.” He snorts.

“Gross.” But your response is a little delayed, and Kent definitely notices. He gives you a pitying look, and you wonder if he knows something about you that you don't know about yourself. Both Divina and him are your closest friends, but you know they share a bond that's different from what they have with you. Do they talk about you when you are not there? Do they talk about the way Tyler looks at you, the way that you look at him, half fear, half attraction?

“Babe, the boy has been pinning for you since, like, fourth grade.” The phrase rings in your ear, makes its way to your brain like an insidious worm. It's still there when blood starts to rain from the ceiling, when Tyler rushes out of the room. Maybe that's why you follow him. Oh, how you wish Kent had never spoken them.

You cloak yourself in your shadows, Kent in too much of a panic to notice you slipping away from him. Tyler's looking at his phone, distracted. He doesn't realize you are falling into step behind him, following into the twisted paths of the woods you both grew up into. The same as you did thirteen years ago, follow him inside the forest because you were young and stupid and desperately wanted to be liked.

The night is cold, wind drifting in and out between the trees and making eerie sounds. Your dress sticks to your skin, wet with fake blood. Tyler walks with intend, dodging branches and ducking between leaves. You try to keep up, but you are getting tired. Someone screams, the sound making you jump. A boy, it's a boy screaming. And then, Wednesday's voice rings in your ears, but you can't make out what she is saying. You can barely think because right in front of your eyes, Tyler is turning into the ugliest monster you had ever seen, skin gray, form still humanoid. It looks painful, how the skin breaks, the joints shift. His eyes are dark and protruding, hungry, pointy teeth come out of his mouth. The nice hands turn into claws, and you don’t dare breathe, you don’t dare even whisper a warning because he is pouncing on the boy and slicing with his claws.

You press your hand to your mouth, biting your fingers to keep you from screaming and betraying your position. It’s over fast, the screams of the boy turning into pained, choked whimpers. The monster sniffs at the air and for one terrifying second, you think your eyes meet his. But he walks away, and then Wednesday is there and Thornhill, and it’s all so confusing and scary you end up walking back to your dorm in a daze.

The shower you take does nothing to soothe your nerves, but it helps you clear your head. So, Tyler is the monster. But Thornhill still showed up at the scene, you know the two of them have something like a relationship. Does it mean they are working together? You toss and turn until morning, sleep evading you. Your conclusion is that you need additional information. You decide to explore the woods and do some more stalking in your free time.

This is what you discover: There is a cave, much like the one Tyler pushed you into all those years ago. Someone burned the cave down. Eugene, the kid from the bee club, was trying to get inside the cave, but the person burning it down spooked him. He ran into the monster, into Tyler after that. You also know Tyler got a text before slipping away, that means he was possibly following orders. Thornhill appeared at the scene, and so did Wednesday.

You decide to tail Wednesday after that. It doesn’t last long, the girl too paranoid about being followed to be able to do it easily, but you learn the monster is called a Hyde. Hydes usually have masters, who tell them what to do. You decide to look up that information later.

The first days are hard. You don’t dare tell anyone what you just saw, too paranoid about suffering the same fate as Eugene. Tyler is dangerous, you have known that since you both were just kids, but now you know exactly how much. He is capable of killing people, yet he isn’t the one who killed your mother. You can’t decipher why Thornhill would be interested in killing her… Unless she knew Tyler was a Hyde and could become a problem later on. But that doesn’t explain what Thornhill hopes to achieve by killing all these people. You ponder, and ponder, but can’t get a why.

Then, cold, hard determination settles on your stomach. You can’t go the legal way, but you can get your revenge in other ways. You need a plan, and it won’t be easy, but you think you can achieve it. What can drive a person to become a murderer? Turns out, all it takes is getting pushed a little too much. Suddenly, murder seems like a reasonable reaction. Desperation makes funny things to people. And seeing Tyler attack Eugene had been your last straw. You won’t be able to live without fear until Thornhill is neutralized, and if no one is going to do it, you will have to take matters into your own hands.

The first step is easy. On your next therapy session, you tell the magic words to Doctor Kinbott.

“I’m afraid. Sometimes… Sometimes I get this feeling, like someone is watching me…” You whisper, crying, in what has to be the performance of a lifetime. Kinbott looks almost afraid, too. She takes your hand in hers, gently. You feel bad about manipulating her, but it’s for the best.

“Do you think you are in real danger, or is this a feeling only?” At the question, you think a little. If you tell her it is real danger right away, she might discount you as a traumatized girl. But if you appear to be considering the question, she will think you are sensible, in touch with your emotions, responsible.

“I don’t know.” You answer and start sobbing. Kinbott takes you on her arms, and you hug her back. You walk out of the session with a tired expression. Who knew fake crying was so tiring?

The second step is easy too. You know your mom had a gun. Being a single mother, even in a small town, is dangerous business. Even more when you and your daughter are part of a discriminated minority. It’s a tiny revolver, that you know your dad wouldn’t dare throw, just like all the stuff your mom had. To make room for his new wife, he just put everything neatly up in boxes in the attic and forgot about it. The attic might not be the place for a gun. But the safe in the office might be.

You are right. The revolver is there, collecting dust and just waiting to be used. You don’t take it yet, knowing your father would notice it absence. Instead, you go stalk Tyler some more, and learn two things. His bedroom doesn’t have bars in the windows, and he still keeps a planner for his schoolwork, all done manually. You snap pictures of it.

Now you know he has a date every Saturday after therapy with someone named L. And his handwriting is easy to copy.

When the first letter shows up, you are having breakfast with your father and stepmother. It’s Sunday, and you had asked Principal Weems for permission to sleep at home, citing homesickness. The letter it’s addressed to you, in wonky letters that clearly try to disguise the handwriting. You open it, and promptly start sobbing.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Did… What does it say?” Your dad gets up, reading over your shoulder. His face morphs into one of fury.

“What kind of bastard? I’m going to kill him, sweetheart! I will kill that fucking boy!”

“Love, calm down, you are scaring her!” Your stepmother says, laying a hand on his arm.

“Scaring her? She is not scared of me, look at this, at the little bastard. That Galpin boy, I bet he is behind it.” He takes the letter from your hands, and starts quoting it out loud. You start sobbing harder. “Your thighs, they are so creamy. I have seen them, when you walk out of the shower to get dressed. I wonder how they would look if I held them down and forced you to open them, if you would scream, resist me! The guy is sending rape threats to my daughter.” At that, your stepmother falls silent, and pulls you into a hug. You cry on her chest.

“How… Whoever this is, they must be watching the house, to know she would receive it.” She says, carding a hand through your hair.

“That’s it. I’m going to the station.”

“Don’t!” You beg. You have set up Tyler to take the blame for it, but it doesn’t mean you want him to, it’s only a last resource. “Daddy, don’t!” You know he melts when he hears you call him that, reminds you of better times, when he and your mother were still together, when you were his little princess.

“Sweetheart…” He pleads with you, but he is already surrendering.

“She is right. We can’t go to Sheriff Galpin and tell him his son is stalking her!” Your stepmother intervenes, and for the first time, you are grateful for her.

“We should have taken her across the country! Not uprooting her, my ass. This fucking town!” Your father complains, but you fist a hand on his shirt and pull him into the hug too. You need to keep him happy, and if he thinks you are playing family with his new wife, he will be more malleable. He goes willingly.

You sent yourself two more letters, in the same disturbing tone. You are careful to not make them seem more like twisted love letters, never threatening, so you don’t get pulled out of Nevermore. In your next session with Doctor Kinbott, you tell her about the letters, your dad’s suspicions, and you mention how much safer you would feel if you knew how to shoot.

Your lessons with Sheriff Galpin start that same afternoon.

“Look at you, all grown up!” He says to you, ruffling your hair. “Your daddy tells me he wants me to teach you how to shoot, says summer is coming, and you will be all alone in that big house.” Normally, he doesn’t like outcasts, but you look so much like your mother, and she was such good friends with Francoise…

The backyard, the place you will be learning how to shoot, looks the same it did thirteen years ago.

“Thank you so much for taking the time, Sheriff.” You say to him, brightly. Tyler won’t be home for at least five more hours, that you know. He has school, and then a shift at the Weathervane.

“Call me Donovan, kiddo. We will be spending all afternoon together.” He sets up some cans in the far wall. “Your mother had registered a revolver, so you will learn to shoot one of those, okay?”

“Yeah, daddy said he still has it. Couldn’t bring himself to throw it away.” You answer, innocently. The Sheriff mutters something uncomplimentary under his breath, that sounds too much like a dig at your dad and stepmother, but you let it slide because you think mostly the same.

“Pay attention. This, here, is the cylinder.” He indicates a twisty part. “You open it, pressing here.” He hands you the revolver, and you repeat his motions, committing them to memory.

“Okay.”

“Revolvers are easier to handle, less complex than semiautomatics. Good for a lady, they can be concealed in a purse. But since you will be at home, we will go over carrying later.” The sheriff shows you tiny bullets inside the cylinder, slowly taking them out. “God, you are not the person I thought I would be teaching this.”

“Did you teach Tyler?” You ask, curiously.

“No, kid never showed interest. And even if he did…” He trails off, and you can tell he is thinking about what happened last year, when he got sent off to bootcamp. “That’s not relevant. Remember this, always. Guns are dangerous, and it’s more probable that the gun at home will be used against you than to defend you, that’s statistics. So, you don’t pull out the gun to threaten, you only pull it out when you are sure you will take the shot, got it?”

“Yes, Mister…” At the look he gave you, you promptly corrected yourself. "Donovan.”

“Good. This, here, is the trigger. It’s hard to pull, this is why the revolvers don’t usually have other safety’s. Try it.” You put a hesitant hand on the revolver. “Go ahead, sweetheart. It’s uncharged, you won’t hurt anyone.” You tried pulling it, finding out it needed more force than you thought.

“This one here, is a higher caliber, that means, more recoil. So, try to grab it with both hands. Revolvers carry fewer rounds, but are far more accurate than a semi, so, not that bad. Always aim for the torso, even if you got bad aim, you will hit something.”

The afternoon goes by quickly. He pours you a mug of coffee, and you promise next time to bring something sweet to share. Donovan looks lonely, and it tugs at your heartstrings, that you are manipulating him too. It hurts even more to think that his son is a killer. You are certain that by the end of it, he will be even more heartbroken.

Tyler thinks he is going crazy. Your smell follows him anywhere, sweet and enticing. If he hadn't been experiencing before that afternoon, he would have thought it was his stupid crush rearing its ugly head.

He enters the house, tired after the long shift, and the scent lingers in the air. His dad is sitting in the backyard, there are two mugs in the kitchen sink.

“Was someone over?” He asks, curious about what his dad will say. Will he cover up for you? Tyler knows all about your watching trick, you think you are so sly, but he can smell you from a mile away. His eyes have always been on you, since he was only a kid who didn’t know what wanting someone really meant. He was always going to see you watching him, and most of the time, he was watching back. And the Hyde… The Hyde thought of you as his. Not prey, not quite master, something else entirely. The Hyde’s mouth watered at the thought of running you down, biting you until you whimpered, mouth filing with the coppery taste of your blood. But not hard enough to really hurt you, no. Just enough to get a bit of fear in your eyes, to get the defiance and fire you had had since you were a five-year-old shining on your features. You would be beautiful, glorious even. You already were.

“Yeah, remember my old secretary?” His father says casually. “The one that was friends with your mother?” The way the words come out of his mouth, it’s strange. Almost as if he never speaks them out loud, only to himself. And it’s true. Tyler doesn’t talk to his father a lot about his mom. More like, never.

“Yeah, was she here?” Tyler asks, feigning he doesn’t know your mother is dead. He knows all about you, he always has. From the face you make when you are about to cry, to the way your school skirt sways left and right when you walk. He knows you have a mole on your hip, that you don’t like wearing perfume unless it is a special occasion. He knows you watch him cloaked in your shadows and like to pretend that you are some big sort of predator when you are just a tiny bunny. Maybe a black bunny, but a bunny nonetheless. Prey. His for running down, his for taking.

“Her kid. She passed away, some psycho murdered her last semester, when you were on…” His father starts to explain, trailing off in remembrance of his time at the bootcamp. Tyler doesn’t want to talk about it, so he cuts him off.

“Yeah. What did she want?” A crazy thought crosses his head. Perhaps you are looking into the death of your mother, maybe he can tip you off in some way. He doesn't understand why Laurel might have killed her, but it has her fingertips all over it. She might have been trying to see if she could do it on her own, carrying the whole plan by herself.

“Her dad wants her to learn to shoot. Summer is coming, and the poor kid is all alone in that big house, after her mother’s death… I can’t blame the man for being paranoid. I can blame him for bringing his mistress and having her sleep on the same bed, though….” Tyler is not listening anymore. He isn't concerned with the gossip on your father. He thinks it’s nice, that the guy cares enough to get someone to teach you to defend yourself. After all, you are all fragile human, with powers that aren’t really good for close combat. Even if you are a firecracker, you are easily hurt. Tyler has issues with that. If someone is going to hurt you and scare you, it’s going to be him, not some robber who shows up at the right time.

Your smell chases him still. It takes a lot of self-control, to not just run to the shower and masturbate to the way your perfume drifted through the house, to the space the Hyde calls his, and impregnated the sofa’s cushions. It gets worse, this itch, the more time that passes. Every day, the scent is all over the house, your smell getting stronger with each visit.

The day he feels it in his bedroom is the day he folds, jerking off in a way that’s almost desperate, with a fist on his mouth to keep himself from crying out. He wonders how you would look, all pretty on your knees. Would your eyes be full of the same defiance, or would you melt, turning into all soft skin and whimpers? He wonders if you are watching him, now, perched in some dark corner. His blinds aren’t closed, he realizes. You could be sitting in one of the branches of the tree just across the street, defiant eyes fixated on him, cloaked up pretty on your shadows. Tyler wonders if you would like watching him, and that thought is what sends him over the edge, desperate sounds drowned on his pillow.

Wednesday does the courtesy of inviting you to torture Tyler that night.

“He is the thread we need to pull to get to your mother’s killer.” She says, full of confidence. You hope this time, she gets it right because you had heard about Xavier’s arrest and your therapist’s murder, and you were so tired you could cry. “Thought you had a right to attend.” Like she is inviting you to a damn wedding or christening and not a, you know, torture session. Your morals have been iffy lately, so you are in no place to judge.

“Sure. Thank you.” You say, and the thought of your reaction at seeing Tyler in chains is not something that even crosses your mind.

“You too?” He asks, in a tired tone, when he sees you stepping out of the shadows. “Look, you can’t still be mad about what I did to you.” Tyler is good, you have to give him that. He has you doubting that he is the Hyde and you saw him maul Eugene half to death. But there is something in the way he looks at you, hunger in his eyes, that gives him away. Tyler has always looked weirdly at you, but this, this hunger, is like almost thinks you two share a secret, that you two are partners in crime.

“What did he do to you?” Wednesday asks, but she is slowly losing control of the group. The cops will arrive at any moment now, so you manage to slip away and get the gun from your dorm and be back in position in a miraculous time.

When Sheriff Galpin comes in, guns blazing, you position yourself in front of Tyler, almost as if you are protecting him. It leaves your back open to him, and even with him chained, you don’t like it. Then, you do your favorite trick: You start crying.

When the man sees you, his expression changes. He is about to question you, but you run to his arms, uncaring about the gun in his hand, and hug him hard.

“I’m sorry sir, I tried. I tried, I promise you, Tyler is not the murderer, he was with me all those nights. I snuck him in, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I tried to stop them.”

You are sure that behind you, the look Tyler must be giving you has to be of absolute bafflement. Wednesday is staring daggers at you, but you don’t care. Your hand is gripping the gun on the pocket of your coat, and the only thought on your head is that you are getting your revenge.

“Shh, kiddo, it’s okay.” And just like you predicted, the Sheriff is unable to deal with a crying girl, so he rubs your back as another officer unties Tyler. “You three, to the station. Now.” He says, directing Tyler and Wednesday to his truck. He lets go of you, pushing you gently towards Tyler, who he now thinks is your boyfriend. Tyler catches you, pulling you towards his chest, hiding his face in your hair as if he is calming down.

You press the barrel of the gun against his stomach before he can even speak.

“For the record: I am not happy to see you.” You whisper and feel the way his body goes tense. He wraps a hand on your shoulder, he laughs a little, but it’s strained.

“What the hell are you doing?” His lips are dangerously close to your ear, and you shiver. You feel his smirk against your hair. Not knowing if you want him closer, or far away, you shove him with one last warning.

“Saving your sorry ass. We are dating. Go.”

Wednesday rides shotgun, Donovan not trusting her enough to put her in the back with you two. The ride is quiet, you keep your hands in your pockets, revolver firmly in your grasp. Tyler’s eyes never leave you, questioning and dangerous.

When you get to the station, you get sent to separate rooms. They don’t make you go through the metal detectors, there is simply no time. Not when the Sheriff's son was just kidnapped. They take your statement, and you spin your web of pretty, sanitized lies, pinning everything on Wednesday.

You tell the Donovan you and Tyler are dating, but keeping it a secret because you are an outcast, and were afraid of his disapproval. You also tell him your father is really strict, he doesn’t want you dating until you are 21. For almost every murder, you give him an alibi, so he doesn’t get suspicious of everything being too perfect. You tell him how you snuck him in to your dorm, in the middle of the night, how you know his favorite candies are Reese’s cups, and that you had gotten closer after you had asked him for one at the Weathervane, for him to tell you they were not for sale. How you had a crush on him since you were kids, but your father would have never approved. You tell him you think Tyler has been getting better, not getting in trouble until that girl, Wednesday Addams (And here you make sure to enunciate her last name loudly, to play on his prejudice) appeared. You tell so many lies, and so many half-truths already, that your head is spinning.

Tyler and Wednesday kept their statement brief, referring only to the kidnapping and torturing. When you get out, you find him threatening Wednesday, while apparently hugging her. He is angry. Oh, he is angry, and you think it’s not all directed at her, but to you too.

You clear your throat because that’s what a good girlfriend would do. Tyler's expression gets even more pinched.

“Bunny, didn’t see you there.” He lets go of Wednesday, who looks half pissed, half terrified, and pulls you closer to him, slipping a casual arm around your waist. You hug him back, tense smile on your lips, fingers itching for the gun. One of his hands goes to the back of your neck, Tyler runs a finger down your spine. It's a warning. He could snap your neck if he wanted.

“We aren’t finished here.” Wednesday says, looking at both of you like you are monsters. Which, fair, maybe you both are because you are trembling under Tyler's touch, and it's not from fear. Wednesday doesn’t ask for your motivation, but her next words are directed to you only. “He won’t get away with this.”

“I think…” You say, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Tyler leaned down to give you more access, sweet smile on his face, while his hands dug on the skin of your waist in a grip so harsh it was almost claw-like. “He has an iron tight alibi for most of those nights, one willing to testify. And that the DNA won’t be checked again, since it was dismissed and the chain of custody is probably broken already.”

“You don’t know what he is capable of.” She warned, walking away.

“Oh, I am. I got this under control.” You laughed, and Wednesday gave you one last murderous glance before leaving.

“We need to talk.” Tyler whispered to you, leading you out of the station. “I don’t know what game you are playing, little girl, but it won’t end up well for you. I could break you in half…”

“Tyler, sweetie.” You said, pressing the gun hard against his side while you walked. To an outside observer, you looked like any other over affectionate young couple. “This is why, in this relationship, I do the talking.”

“You are bluffing.” He said, leaning more into the barrel of the gun. “You wouldn’t shoot.”

“What is what your father always say?” You asked him, finger going to the trigger. “Never pull the gun unless you…”

“You are ready to take the shot.” For the first time in the night, he seemed scared. “You don’t want me taking it from you, Bunny. You are going to get hurt.”

“Oh, try. Thing is, this is not like the semi your dad uses. One pull of my finger and you are dead. Revolvers don’t have a safety. I got five bullets. Wanna bet on how many I can put on you before you even try to take it from me?”

Tyler kept quiet.

“What do you want?” He finally asked. His eyes were glazed over, his expression half fear, half want. Oh, he was sick. Probably you too. Who liked getting threatened with a gun? But from the look on his eyes, he was very much into it.

“I want Thornhill dead. And from how I see it, you have two options. You help me kill the bitch or go down with her. I don't care.” You spit out, and it feels so good to finally admit it. You had spent months saying to yourself you wanted her in jail, convincing you didn't want her dead. But you are past that point. Justice wouldn't be her living behind bars a long time. The only justice you could get was ending her life, just as she had ended your mother's.

“I can’t…” Tyler whispered, guiding you towards his house. But you could tell, that maybe, he wanted her dead as much as you did. Something rattles in your mind, a memory half forgotten. The way she touched him that first night, the way you didn't like, that made you sick to your stomach.

“Oh, come on, now you remember you have a moral fiber?” It's a shitty thing to do, but you need to press your advantage while you still have it. “You don’t kill women? Well, guess what, you are going down with her.” The barrel of the gun dug harder against his body, so hard you were sure a bruise was forming.

“It’s not that…” His voice sounded pained. “She is my master, the Hyde…”

“Can change its allegiance, I’m sure.” You stepped a little away from him, keeping your eyes on his hands. You didn’t want him trying anything.

“I… I don’t know how.”

“Look, I’m not asking you to kill her yourself. Just help me. I’ll do the killing. Besides, I bet you want it as much as I do.”

“She isn’t so bad…” He tried to joke, a hint of the golden retriever smile appearing on his face. He looked cute. You vanished those thoughts immediately. No time for distractions, not now.

“You could have been normal, you know?” You said to him, jerking to a stop in a dark alleyway. This will work better, he seems the type to be moved by the fantasies. And you, you knew how it felt to miss a mother, grief so encompassing you could barely breathe without hurting. “My mother knew about yours, she could have helped you. That’s why she is dead. For you.”

“My… Would she have?” He asked, looking gutted. The idea of someone helping him is so foreign, you wonder if no one else has offered before. Have all his relationships been transactional, so far? Tyler seems to be that way about touch, too. Always to hurt, to dominate, never touching for the sake of it. Thornhill was another example of that, you betted she had took advantage of how touch starved he was.

“She loved her. It was always, Francoise this, Francoise that. She cried every night after her death for months. She desperately wanted me to be friends with you.” Your eyes filled with tears. You took the gun out of your pocket, gripping it one-handed and pointing it to the ground. Just in case he decided to get smart and take advantage of your distraction. Fuck, you were too soft. You hated it.

“My mother, she liked you too.” Tyler offered, quietly. His eyes were red, but he wasn’t crying. “She always joked how you would have made an amazing daughter-in-law.” His tone was soft, hesitant. He had raised the stakes out of his own free will.

“She was lovely. The only friend my mother had.” Not an agreement, but not a no, either.

“God, wherever they are, they must be so angry.” Tyler laughed, and it sounded a little hysterical. You couldn’t help but join in. “Can I hug you?” He asked. Your hand twitched on the trigger. Tyler followed the motion, only reaction been raising his hands in surrender. For the first time in the whole night, you didn’t know what to say.

Tyler’s eyes were pleading. He had never wanted you more than tonight, when you had manipulated people left and right for him. For him, the Hyde screamed. The monster had already made his decision, to him, tonight had been a declaration of eternal love. This gun to his ribs, nothing more than part of running you down. He had to prove himself strong, worthy of your submission. The Hyde was never letting you go again, you were his new obsession. From this close, you smelled heavenly, the perfect mix of girl, nervousness, and determination. Good enough to eat. He just needed to catch you and claim you.

You could tell, by the way he looked at you, troubled small-town boy and hints of the monster beneath it, that he was sincere. He actually wanted to hug you.

“Sure. Since we are now dating and all…” You trailed off when his hands wrapped around you, nose burying in the crook of your neck and taking desperate inhales of your scent. It was driving him insane. He wanted you close, so close your scents mixed, so close your fear clung to him, gave him the high he wanted.

“You can keep the gun, if it makes you feel safe.” Tyler whispered against your skin, lips moving against your neck. It was soft, this time. He wasn’t gripping you harshly, like he had been at the station. The gun clattered softly to the gun, slipping from your limp fingers. He could be manipulating you, but this felt too good, too right, to not fall for it. “But… I like you. I always have. I have watched you more than I should, my Hyde is head over heels for you already.” Tyler kept talking, hoping you would see he was sincere. This was him, matching your boldness. “I would kill her for you, you know? If you asked. If you wanted me to. I would hold her down, slash her throat. Offer her body to you.” Those words were forbidden words, contemplating killing his master should be impossible. But for you, for you, he would do it. There was no hesitation.

No one had ever told you something half as romantic. So, you took your own leap of faith. You pulled him out of your neck, softly grabbing his hair, and devoured his mouth. Tyler kissed back, just as passionately. He crowded you against one of the walls, thigh slotting between your legs, and you whimpered in his mouth. The happy rumble he gave, it didn’t sound human.

“Mine,” He said, kissing a path down your neck, biting at it, hard. Hard enough to draw blood. “Mine. Mine. No one else will touch you, not even her. Mine.” He seemed crazed, like the only thought in his head was you. And it was. The Hyde was frenzied with the need to claim, to make sure everybody knew you were his.

“Yours. Yours.” You answered, breathless. Oh, you two were fucked. Badly. You knew you shouldn't want him so much, a few days ago you had watched him maul a kid half to death. It was not even an hour ago, you had been pointing a gun to him. But his lips on your skin felt right, the way he was touching you was making your brain throw all precaution through the window. You grabbed at his hair, at his back, anywhere. To wherever you could reach, anchor yourself with.

“Let’s take this somewhere else, please?” Tyler whined, mouthing at your shoulder. His hand tugged at the collar of your shirt, exposing more skin for him to mark. It makes you wonder if this is him or the Hyde talking. He has always had a dark undercurrent to him, even with the monster asleep. “Please, let me have you. I have wanted you for so long…” The last phrase caught your attention.

“Since when?” You pushed him away, just so you could try to get to his house before you two ended up fucking in a dirty alley. But Tyler didn’t seem deterred on the least, taking the chance to slip a hand under your shirt, running his fingers over the skin on your back. “Stop it, we gotta get indoors. After this, I’m not getting arrested for indecent exposure.”

“Since, like, sophomore year.” Tyler laughs, holding you closer still. He gently starts fixing your clothes back to normal. Now you know he is just making shit up because there is no way it has been that long for him too.

“You were kissing half the school, don't make me laugh.” You answer, and it comes way more bitter than you intended.

“Aww, are you jealous?” He mocks you, doing the buttons on your coat with steady hands. “Don’t worry, I never wanted them the way I want you.” Tyler presses a kiss to your forehead, inhaling your scent longer than he probably should.

“Yeah, sure. They weren’t half as crazy.” You let him finish dressing you, giving him a stare.

“I have wanted you since before I knew what having a crush was, but started wanting you like this when I got older. You got fucking pretty, but never looked my way.” Tyler knelt on the floor, looking for something in the pavement. Too late, you remembered the gun. Anxiety clutched at your insides with an iron fist. Had he only been tricking you? But once he got hold of it, he took the bullets out and slipped them in his pocket, as one does. His expression is completely blank. You wanted to laugh. Then, Tyler passed you the revolver, still on his knees, handle first. You grabbed it with cautious hands.

“Left you a bullet.” Tyler explained, hands raised in surrender. “I can smell your fear, you know?” You ignored his commentary, checking the chamber. Just one bullet, true. You wonder if truly his sense of smell is that sensitive.

“Never took you for a fan of Russian Roulette. Also, I watched you too, you know?”

“Yeah, all you know about me comes from your little stalking habit.” He got up from his knees. You stared at him. Was it possible he had only been entertaining you all this time? “Bunny, I can smell you. Well, the Hyde can.”

“Stop calling me that.” You grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers with his. The revolver went back into your coat. “Makes zero sense.”

“Makes total sense. You… To me, you have always been prey. Since we were kids. I didn’t understand it, back then, but I wanted to run you down.” Tyler rubs at his face, a scowl appearing on his pretty features. “I… Okay, if this doesn’t make you run for the hills and decide this is a bad idea, you will stay forever.” He finally says, lowering his voice to a whisper. Is he going to confess a deep dark secret? You hope so. Tyler has so many layers, he makes this whole thing fun. “I like the smell of fear. But I don’t like the scent of terrified, then it makes me sick, like too much of cheap vanilla perfume. You have always balanced it out well.”

You laugh because you don’t know what to say. Thank you? I'm glad you like the smell of my fear? This feels like such a surreal compliment you don't know what to say. So instead, you change the topic.

“Why didn’t you stop me from watching you?”

“I liked you watching…” His voice trails off, in a way you bet is calculated. Tyler is good at playing the charming guy like that. Just ask Wednesday. Then, he leans forward, to whisper in your ear. “And I was thinking, maybe today I could watch you instead…?” Feeling him so close, the insinuation on his words, it’s too much. A blush appears on your cheeks. You hear him snicker, and punch him in the arm lightly. But you let him wrap an arm around you and keep leading you.

That’s how you end up sitting on the bed, completely naked, Tyler's hand rubbing soothing circles on your ankle.

“Come on, show me.” He says, running his index finger along the inside of your calf. It’s awkward, being asked to touch yourself. You are not used to having an audience, to worrying about how you look. Tyler is still fully dressed, a sharp contrast to your nakedness and a way, you guess, to show who is in control. Even if you like him a lot, you find it hard to be aroused. To try to get yourself in the right mood, you rub your clit on circles, but it’s not doing much.

Tyler definitely notices because his hands come to grasp at your ankles, pulling your legs slightly more apart.

“That's how you touch yourself? Straight for the prize?” His tone is neutral. Not judging, but not forceful either. The choice is yours, in the end.

“… Yeah.” Your hands drop uselessly by your sides. You feel too self-conscious.

“You are…” He tilts his head to the side, evaluating. “Okay, this is not working. You are too tense.” Tyler crawls towards you, and presses a kiss to your cheek. “Would it be better if I was doing it too? Or… We could do something else?” It's sweet, for someone who had just been threatened with a gun. Odd, too, considering the kind of people you both are. But maybe, he is trying to build trust. God knows this relationship needs it.

“I want to try.” You complain, tugging at his shirt. You really aim to please him, for him to have what he wants. Not many people feel that way about Tyler. Certainly, not his father, who has talked more to you in a week than to his son in a month. Not Thornhill, who is too obsessed with her plan and motivations to care about his accomplice.

“Okay. “ Tyler takes off his shirt. “Sit on my lap.”

You hurry to obey, kissing him hungrily. He kisses back, matching your pace and nipping lightly at your lips. You open for him, letting him take what he wants. He breaks the kiss only when the need for air is too pressing, and even then, he presses his forehead to yours, keeping a close eye on your reactions. It’s strangely intimate.

Tyler grabs one of your hands and takes it to your neck, running it lightly over your exposed collarbones, down the valley of your breasts. Your fingers bend in his grasp, allowing him to go lower and lower, until your hand is just over your pubic bone. He helps your hand do the same path in reverse, until you are squirming for more stimulation. Then, he guides your fingers to your nipples and lets go of your hand.

“Go ahead, Bunny.” You squeeze your nipple, mystified by the sensation. You have never been really sensitive there, it’s not a place you care too much about. Tyler’s hand goes to pinch your other nipple. Your back arches a little, thighs squeezing his at the sudden burst of pleasure. So, that’s what this is supposed to feel like. “Copy what I’m doing.”

You obey, surprised to see it does work.

“Good.” Tyler says, mouthing at your shoulder. His eyes are dark. What is it about this that he likes so much? Control? You are reluctant to fight him over it, you like the idea of him having power over you. It appeals to your love of danger. “Keep going.” This time, his teeth dig in the hollow of your throat, and you can’t avoid moaning. You grind down against him, finding he is half hard already.

“How does this feel?” Tyler asks, scratching at your inner thighs. You pant, muffling your cries on his mouth because the answer is too fucking good. He seems to be playing your body like an instrument, zeroing in weak spots you didn’t know you had. “Do it yourself.”

You obey, raking your nails over the insides of your thighs, lightly. It feels odd. Not as good as when Tyler does it. You never focused too much on these areas when masturbating, you just kind of… Went for it.

“Can you do that?” You plead, looking at him with your widest, most innocent eyes. Tyler is a sucker for them, it turns out because he does. His nails, shorter than your own, scratch at your thighs until you are bucking your hips against his. He draws patterns on your legs, hands everywhere, but never where you need them the most. The desperation starts to show, hips shifting, trying to catch his hands and pull them between your legs. Tyler ignores it, eyes fixed on yours. He wants you to understand this is something you need to do yourself. He even takes his hands off you when you get too impatient. “Please, just… Keep touching me?”

“Fine.” He grumbles, but it sounds more amused than angry. “But I’m not doing all the work.”

This time, your hands go to your folds, spreading the wetness there. Having his hands on you, having him closer, makes it ten times better than before, and it looks like he knows it. You search for his knees, blindly, and place a hand there to hold yourself. The stretch of your back is more than you expected, but you make it work. Tyler wants to watch? You will give him a show.

Tyler smirks at you. He likes that you have taken the initiative, putting more space between the two of you, so he gets a better view.

“Good girl.” The compliment makes you preen, so you reward him by sliding a hand down your stomach, to cup your pussy. His hands tense around your thighs, breath hitching. You tease your clit with the tip of your finger, biting your lip to quiet your moan. Tyler’s pupils are blown, eyes fixated on your hand.

“Fuck.” He says, hand going to spread your labia, so he can have a better look. He seems unable to stop himself.

“Good?” You ask, teasing your clit until it is puffy and aching. There is something about having him look at you while you touch yourself that feels dirty, shameful even, but the embarrassment only adds to your pleasure. The way his hand feels, spreading you open, makes you think how much better it could feel if he were the one touching you. You feel yourself get wetter, slick dripping slightly. Tyler definitely notices because his eyes get wider and his index finger runs down your hole, not pressing, just mapping the route your slick is taking, towards your perineum.

“More than I expected. I thought about this, I thought about you watching me, all those nights… What did you see, Bunny? Something like this?” You can't answer because Tyler takes one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking and biting like you are his last meal. You grab on his hair, hold almost painful, with the way you are balancing on his lap. He moans and looks up at you. It’s… You don’t know, but it feels dirty, to be making eye contact when he has his mouth on you, saliva spreading everywhere. When he notices you have stopped touching yourself, he moves as if to pull away. Your hand drops his hair and goes immediately to your hole, pressing a finger inside.

“Please, Tyler. I… You had your fun.” You beg, and can feel his smirk against your skin. He likes you like this, all pretty and doing what he says, but he wants you to put more of a fight. Tyler liked you at first because you weren’t afraid of him, you were defiant. This version of you… You aren’t afraid, he can tell, but it’s like you have forgotten you have a spine.

“I guess you have been a good bunny….” Tyler does quick work of his pants and boxers and soon, he is slipping inside you. It’s easy, with how wet you are, but he keeps unmoving, eager for your reaction. He hopes you will try to take control this time. He wants to force you to stay down, to be harsher. Own you.

You don’t disappoint, bouncing desperately on his cock.

“Didn’t you want to claim me so much?” You want him to let go. Sure, it was sweet, this that he had been doing before, casual dominance getting at you. But you fell in love with the guy who locked you in a cave when you were five years old to get off on your screams, the one that jerked off to the thought of you spying on him. “At this rate, I’m the one owning you.” You need him desperate, you want him angry and riled up, so, you do the thing that you know will make him the most mad. You make a grab for his wrists, pushing him to lie on his back.

“Sometimes, I think you don’t have any sense of self-preservation.” Tyler grunts, and fights your grip. It gets messy, you are both rolling around on the bed, his hands desperately grabbing at your hips, you are pushing him down. He slips out of you at one point, you try to force him to go down, and he won’t just let you that easy.

You figure it does something to the Hyde, the idea of forcing you to submit, nipping at your neck, teeth digging hard at your nape. You arch into his mouth, confused by the sensation. It feels good, to be caught finally, but you bet this isn’t a normal reaction. Tyler rolls you over, eyes dark, and pins your wrist over your head. That, coupled with the satisfied smirk on his face as he fucks you, tells you he is making a mockery of what you had been trying to do before. You scratch at his back, angry at him, and at yourself, at the world, really. Your nails draw gashes across his skin, but it only seems to egg him on more.

“You are mine. You are mine.” He bites your shoulder, pointy canines harsh enough to draw blood. That, coupled with his hand rubbing circles on your clit, is what makes you fall apart. He does too, muffling his moan in your mouth.

“You know…” Tyler presses a tender kiss to the wound of your shoulder. “Loyalties change.”

You snort. “Does the Hyde have a new master?”

“By death.” He promises, kissing your neck next and making you squirm. “Didn’t take you for the type to want shared custody. She has to go.” And oh, it feels sweeter, better than the orgasm you just had.

#my writing #wednesday netflix #tyler galpin #tyler galpin x reader #tyler galpin x y/n #tyler galpin x you #im so tired #tyler galpin imagine #tyler galpin smut #tyler galpin x fem!reader #wednesday addams #kent fisher #divina fisher

[realmofvoxtv]

(Warning Spoilers for Episode 1-2) My Theory on Vox and Alastor

WARNING SPOILERS! Read at your own choice!

WARNING SPOILERS! Read at your own choice!

WARNING SPOILERS! Read at your own choice!

WARNING SPOILERS! Read at your own choice!

WARNING SPOILERS! Read at your own choice!

WARNING SPOILERS! Read at your own choice!

WARNING SPOILERS! Read at your own choice!

WARNING SPOILERS! Read at your own choice!

So, something has stuck with me since viewing the second episode of Hazbin Hotel. Which is that Alastor calls Vox "Old Pal". Now Alastor could have been taunting Vox or being sarcastic. However, I do feel like there may be more to this. Earlier in episode two, it was revealed that Vox, in particular, asked Alastor to join the VVV. And it does feel like Vox has this strange obsession with Alastor.

Now for the rest of theory, I am relying on some old information that was said about Vox. From what I've read and heard, Vox was headcanoned by Vivziepop to have a voice similar to Mark Hamill. Who is rather well known as one of the Joker's greatest voice actors.

So, why does this matter? Well, the Joker tends to be character who is obsessed with his arch nemesis, who is Batman. He tends to plan entire schemes just to mess with Batman. And in some stories, that is explained to be because Joker was created by Batman. (Sometimes through a battle, in which Joker accidently lands into some chemicals that cause him to become the pale and green haired clown).

So, what am I proposing here? I'm suggesting that MAYBE, Alastor's actions either it be when he was a human on Earth or a sinner in hell, resulted in Vox. I should mention that timeline wise, Alastor is older than Vox. In the sense that Alastor as a human, was born before Vox. And arrived to Hell before Vox as well. So, it's possible that Alastor somehow did influence Vox in some way.

I mean, even comparing some aspects of Vox to the Joker, there are some similarities. Both of them have altered features compared to other characters in their world. (Now yes I know that hell is populated with many strange sinner bodies, but even how Vox seems able to change and replace his screens with newer models is strange. Especially since we know when sinners are harmed, like say a limb gets ripped off, it will regrow. So the fact that Vox is able to replace his screen... is strange). And of course, they both seemingly have a strange obsession with their rival that is usually one-sided.

I believe that Alastor's actions resulted in Vox being the strange tv sinner he is now. And perhaps Alastor's actions resulted in Vox having this strange obsession with him. Perhaps Vox, in a strange way, was grateful for Alastor causing him to become the powerful TV overlord he is now. Or maybe that invite to the VVV was some type of trap.

I will say that should this theory be true. It would be interesting story wise. As it would mean that Alastor's actions brought forward the new dawn of tech that he hates so much. As his actions (in this theory) created or pushed Vox in some way.

Anyways that's just a theory (or really just a guess given how little evidence this has). Feel free to share your thoughts!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel vox #vox #alastor #hazbin hotel theory #theory #hazbin hotel spoilers

[yanderes-galore]

Transformers Prime Yandere! Ratchet concept?????

Sure! I love Ratchet :) This is me spilling my thoughts on various things more than an actual plot. I just hope I nailed his character since I like him so much- Probably could've made this longer but was unsure how/what to add.

@trashysimpaa gave me inspiration for how to do this here!

Yandere! TFP! Ratchet Concept

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Denial of feelings, Cybertronian/Human and Cybertronian/Cybertronian pairing mentioned, Stalking, Overprotective behavior, Trackers, Manipulation, Isolation, Kidnapping, Violence, Forced companionship, Brief mentions of jealousy, Vague implications of murder, Drugging.

Ratchet is definitely the type of yandere to act different depending on what you are.

When it comes to an Autobot darling he'd be more comfortable to feel fond towards them as they're Cybertronian and an Autobot.

When it comes to a human he'd take time to get used to you before considering anything.

Ratchet hasn't always been the biggest human person until he spent more time on Earth.

He'll come around eventually.

When it comes to a Decepticon! darling you'd get something similar to angst and enemies to (one-sided) lovers/friends.

It would depend on how loyal you are to Megatron and if you're even capable of change.

He can't shake the fact he cares for you despite your beliefs.

Ratchet is a slow yandere in terms of obsession.

He's slow to care for anyone new due to being older.

He's lost so much he doesn't like getting attached.

Although when it comes to you he can't help but worry.

Ratchet would definitely be a yandere who is in denial of how he feels.

No matter how he sees you it happens.

Yet the strongest cases of this would be romantic feelings towards a human or any sort of feelings towards a Decepticon.

Ratchet would be the type to try and ignore how he feels.

Like most Autobots Ratchet is protective of you and his mind often drifts to your safety.

Be it missions or every day life, the fact the world is so dangerous is a truth that sticks in his mind.

Can't really blame him since he's bee through war-

It happens when you lose everyone you love... including your entire home.

Ratchet would try to be subtle with his care towards you.

All Autobots tend to have trackers to see their vitals and location, Ratchet can check it at the base.

Soothing his concerns and checking where you are is easy when you're an Autobot.

Even though he'd prefer you staying at base with him.

Decepticons probably have something similar.

With a hack or two he could probably track you if he really looked into it.

When it comes to a human things are harder.

He can't track you as easily as a Cybertronian.

Which means Ratchet either sneaks to your house in vehicle mode... or sneaks a tracker onto/into you somehow.

It seems very invasive but he tells himself it's for your own good.

In fact that's his driving factor most of the time in his obsession.

Ratchet feels his main responsibility is to keep those he cares about alive.

He doesn't care if that means invading your privacy or locking you away from the world.

Speaking of which, kidnapping could happen with Ratchet but it's uncommon with him.

When it comes to an Autobot darling he could convince you to stay out of missions but even that has its limits.

He wouldn't really kidnap an Autobot.

A human or Decepticon? Most likely.

Kidnapping a human darling would be him convincing you to stay at the base.

It's all for your safety, just for a few hours...

Hours turn to days...

Days to weeks...

Perhaps even months.

He just doesn't let you go.

A Decepticon! darling would be taken in under the guise of prisoner.

In reality it's a way Ratchet can be close to you without much issue.

Ratchet can be seen as either a platonic or romantic yandere for any partner.

He works really well for both roles and would still do just about anything for his darling.

Ratchet may be a medic, one meant to heal... but he is definitely capable of violence.

He can fight and hold his own, he'd be even more willing to do it if it was for his darling.

It doesn't matter how much Energon must be spilled...

As long as he has you he's the happiest he could be.

Ratchet is definitely one to act like he knows more than you.

If you're having arguments he claims he knows so much more than you, that he knows how to take care of you better than yourself.

It's frustrating for the both of you.

Ratchet is stubborn and will not change his mind on things.

If he decides isolation will keep you safe, that's final.

End of story.

That's his form of manipulation.

He won't really make you feel bad, he'll essentially parent you until you comply.

Fighting him is a losing battle.

I can see Ratchet getting jealous at times.

He isn't very vocal about it so he silently thinks on it.

You can tell there's an edge in his voice and he makes small comments on it but he won't kill anyone.

Ratchet isn't the most affectionate Autobot but he'll try.

It's actually a bit funny (and creepy) to hear him grumble about it.

[Edit] I forgot to mention this awhile ago but Ratchet, along with characters like Knock Out and maybe Pharma, would drug his darling.

If you're Cybertronian he bumps up some anesthesia.

If you're human he does research on what drugs affect the human body and how.

He'll give you just enough to make you compliant, he knows exactly how to make you docile.

If he's romantic then he'd try to kiss his darling, often trying to be as gentle as possible.

Especially if you're human.

If he's platonic he's much more like a guardian or parent.

He gives words of encouragement and tries to take care of you.

Overall I believe Ratchet is one of the more stubborn and slower yanderes.

It takes him time to accept the fondness he holds towards you...

Once he does then he doesn't plan on letting you or those feelings go, no matter how hard you try to change his mind.

#yandere transformers #yandere transformers prime #yandere tfp ratchet #yandere ratchet

[trashcanfills]

Self Aware Genshin Impact AU - Divine Guide who’s already Married Concept Intro

Because I somehow want the genshin cast to suffer in this specific way lmao and also inspired by some other users post but i cant rmb who hvrcecrnmfaetvu

This is a very specific AU for the sagau cult idea, whereby it is kind of the typical genshin player gets isekai’d into Teyvat and has a cult following thanks to their interference as a player, except the player wants to go back home and aren’t that reciprocal of their acolytes’ love and devotion…

…because they already have a spouse back in their og world, and rather be reunited with them than be alone worshipped at a pedestal they believe they dont really deserve.

Cue astonishment and outrage among the acolytes because how is it that their beloved deity is married and no one knows abt it??? (Turns out some characters suspected it due to a few of the player’s offhand comments during gameplay that hinted them being already attached to someone, except they were kinda in denial/not focused on that part…until the Divine Guide descends and later reveals that info. Oof)

Not to mention that these characters cant help but fall in love/obsession with the Divine Guide due to their kind and patient presence. The moment the acolytes know that the Divine Guide has made an appearance in Teyvat, they think that they had a chance to show their devotion to the Guide, and possibly prove their worth to be one of their potential lovers.

Unfortunately, the Divine Guide does not see the acolytes in that way, because they already have a lover that practically seems like their soulmate based on how the Guide wistfully reminisces and gleefully gushes abt their spouse from time to time.

Because of that theres a good amt of jealousy esp from the more devoted and obsessive acolytes. Like they are grateful to you, who is doing their best to remain impartial and equally appreciative of everyone.

Yet the acolytes just see the absolute love and affection you have whenever you mention your lover and they just…cant help but feel envious of your spouse and wish they could be in their place.

Of course, since its only the Divine Guide that came to Teyvat, the acolytes try to subtly push their deity to move on from their lover. Like yes it is such a shame your lover didnt cross over as well, but would you really prefer to keep mourning over what could have been when there is a new world with dedicated followers at your beck and call? What abt these people who want to thank and worship you for the kindness you have done for them? It would be better for you to look up and live in the present than dwell in the past or wishful thinking that amount to nothing, no?

Just to make this all the more spicier, at some point maybe a couple of months or even a year since the arrival of the Divine Guide aka the player in Teyvat, their spouse ends up getting isekai’d in as well.

Once the Guide aka the og player discovers them, they are ecstatic to have their lover with them, and whether the two decide to stay tgt in Teyvat or secretly figure out how to go back home is up to them, but oh boi the acolytes end up getting the shock of their lives (and oh boi the green gazes as they witness the reunion). Imagine the multitude of reactions from cast, esp when you decide to continue on your loving relationship and declare that your lover, now known as the Divine Consort, to be treated with the same respect as you.

Some are envious, and secretly despise your spouse because they feel that the Consort is unworthy of your love and affection. Some are dejected or upset, and are either willing to give them a chance or hesitant to because they are still unsure. Some are willing to worship the spouse along with their beloved deity, and find the Consort really cool in their own right. Some might end up liking the spouse to the point they wonder if both the Divine Guide and the Divine Consort would be open to having other lovers…

#self aware genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact sagau #genshin self aware #sagau #genshin impact self aware #self aware genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #sagau cult au #i dunno why but I just enjoy seeing the characters suffer from unrequited love and cant do shit abt it

[animeyanderetalker]

In no particular order, which five characters from Hunter x Hunter do you believe have the highest probability of being yandere if they were to develop an attraction to someone?

Those are the ones I could think of spontaneously.

I feel like Kurapika would have a good possibility of turning possessive and very overprotective over the person he starts gaining feelings for. The massacre of his own clan has left him scarred and set on revenge so he would be much more careful and paranoid if he would fall in love with someone. He has made an enemy of the Phantom Troupe by killing Uvogin and Pakunoda and also using his Chains on Chrollo to make him unable to use his Nen abilities. He knows that the Phantom Troupe is ruthless and probably wouldn’t be afraid to use you against him and that thought is going to haunt him.

Hisoka just won’t let someone go the moment they catch his interest so god forbid if this menace actually gains genuine feelings for someone. As genuine as he can go at least. He literally won’t leave that person alone and worst is that there’s no way to get rid of him. Threats don’t work and he’s too smart to get caught by the police or he just kills them. Hisoka has no morals and his loyalty lies in what catches his interest. Rejections, insults, threats and tears don’t work on him either. Instead Hisoka is oddly invested in whatever emotion he can squeeze out of you and he’s going to be the asshole who makes you cry on purpose. He’s so persistent and is going to be so annoyingly clingy too so there goes any sense of privacy either. He is terrifying because he has no shame in killing people nor expressing his perverted desires to you.

Start playing freaking Hellfire from Hunchback of Notre Dame for Shaiapouf and his first stages of interest in that person. He’s part of the Royal Guard, he was born to serve the Chimera Ant King and no one else so him gaining an attraction to someone that isn’t his King defies genetics. That is going to be a sting for him, all the more if we’re going with a scenario where Meruem is dead and Shaiapouf already survived. His King was killed by a human, the species that was supposed to be beneath Meruem and his Royal Guards so for Pouf this would be salt in the fresh wound. It’s an utter humiliation and he plans multiple times to kill you only to be unable to do so. There is a paranoia within him because he has failed the one thing he was born for so in a way he’s projecting on his darling by initially forcing them to act like the royalty Pouf is supposed to serve before the genuine infatuation kicks in and he embraces it completely. His paranoia and trauma will never let him let go of his darling, he’s going to be so overbearing and controlling whilst playing their servant.

Pitou is a very similar story to Shaiapouf. Them gaining an attraction for someone goes against their natural instinct to protect the Chimera Ant King yet it’s still happening. Since Pitou is also partially a cat, there is going to be a lot of curiosity involved and much less hostility than with Pouf. Neferpitou’s mind tells them to seek out answers for those weird feelings that their darling awakes inside of them and no one can tell them to stop. Pitou is possessive over their darling and will guard them and the place they’re put in with literal teeth and claws. There is pain and trauma if we once again assume a world where Meruem and Komugi both died so for a while they view darling as a toy to forget those feelings until they realize that their emotions for them are actually sincere. That’s when darling really won’t be able to ever escape.

He has shown a fascination for the way humans work so imagine how obsessed he would be with the person he gains an interest in. It’s unexpected because the only people Chrollo has ever cared about are the members of his Phantom Troupe but that is what makes his darling so precious and special. He yearns to know every crevice of their soul to the point where he feels almost incomplete if he doesn’t as the mere feeling of not knowing becomes a black tear in his being. He’s smart, he is observing and at one point he knows your every habit and reaction yet he’s like a glass with no bottom as he keeps taking everything about you in to engrave it forever in his black soul. You are the rarest treasure the thief has ever found and he’s going to commit massacres to ensure that you never leave his side.

#a talks #yandere thoughts #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh

[ryuichirou]

I know this might be a bit of a weird ask, but can I get your HCs on which characters you think would prefer having s*x with or without a condom? Like, which ones like being safe and which ones are creampie obsessed

Sorry it took so long for me to reply, Anon. It’s a bit of a difficult thing for me to comment on, because as you might have noticed, we barely have any condoms in our nsfw stuff lol Don’t follow these boys’ example, people! They’re all creampie obsessed, some of them more openly than others lol

Riddle is too embarrassed to even think about sex, but if he was sexually active, he would insist on condoms so aggressively that Floyd (for example) would have to catch him off-guard to get what he wants. Trey sounds like a normal reasonable guy who would absolutely always have condoms on him but would secretly think that creampies are the hottest shit ever. Not sure about Cater, but maybe he would be the one to find a way to make condoms sexy… although I don’t think he has sex all that often.

Ace and Deuce argue about this stuff, god they always argue in our headcanon posts lol Deuce thinks that using condoms is a right thing to do, Ace always tell him that they don’t need them, making Deuce feel stupid, but Deuce doesn’t give up. A lot of time they just end up unintentionally tearing it apart mid-sex lol

Ruggie knows about the importance of condoms, but he doesn’t use them with Leona – Leona doesn’t like how it feels. Jack, if he was to have sex, would always bring condoms, but despite his best intentions his instincts could make him overwhelmed and he’ll forget about them completely.

Octa-trio doesn’t use condoms, but they should, because while their own immune system is strong enough to handle a lot of shit, their lovers might have a reaction to any secretions that merpeople have. Poisonous sperm lol Floyd is the most sexually active, so he gets scolded a lot, especially by Azul who doesn’t want people to complain to him when their stomach starts to feel funny because of Floyd’s juice. Floyd throws a looot of “but it’s TOO TIGHT” tantrums… Jade doesn’t throw any tantrums, he just does whatever he wants and doesn’t talk about his sex life with Azul-the-hypocrite :)

Kalim doesn’t really like how condoms feel, and he really really REALLY enjoys the sight of Jamil’s butt being filled. So he is probably the one to ask Jamil to let him do it raw whenever he gets clingy… Jamil is always going to be against it, strictly against it, he would rather put the condom on Kalim himself, alright he can do it with his mouth, there, happy? But in actuality Jamil also really likes the feeling of being filled with Kalim…….. but it’s too embarrassing, and also A BITCH to clean afterwards.

I’m pretty sure Vil is the biggest safe sex advocate in the world. At least in NRC. If he heard about some of the boys’ habits, he would immediately give them an impromptu safe sex lesson in the most annoying and wordy way possible. And Rook usually does whatever Vil wants, buuuut there’s always this “but”, isn’t there? These two also have “raw” sex, and also do it quite often lol Vil thinks of it as either “alright it’s a treat for you” or “alright this once” but it still happens pretty much regularly. Although there are periods when it doesn’t happen at all for a long time. I guess it depends on their mood.

Epel would not use condoms because Vil said that he should lol I won’t elaborate further.

Idia and Ortho… You’ve probably seen my comic about this topic, so you know lol Idia doesn’t like condoms all that much (unless it’s a kink thing, in which he’s just VERY ASHAMED), but Ortho is fascinated by the concept. It’s a phase…

Lilia is the “do as I say, not as I do” type: he could also give a safe sex lesson but he doesn’t really believe in it. Fae immune system is probably also stronger than humans’, so he only does it for Silver’s sake. But “it” I mean teaches Silver about the importance of condoms of course, not wears one himself. God forbid.

So Silver knows about the importance of condoms, but since he doesn’t usually penetrate anyone, he doesn’t use them. He knows how to put them on his partner’s dick though, both with his hands and his mouth.

Sebek isn’t sure if he should wear one or not. But if he decided to do it, he would probably tear it in 3 places somehow and get emotionally destroyed by the fact that he tried to be responsible but still spilled his juice everywhere…

Malleus… Malleus would be amused by the idea of condoms. But I also have a feeling that he’s never seen one in his life…

#replies #headcanons

[reblog-house]

Past The Ocean, The Skies

Character: Grian

Wc: 1042

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt 242, “Soaring Above”

Ao3: Here!

Finally.

Grian secured his elytra on his back and saw it transform into a pair of bird wings. He raised them and felt the feathers flutter with the strong breeze.

The wings were great in length, this time, yet thin and precise. Perfect for soaring long distances. White to grey to black, perfect camouflage looking from below into the sky and from above into the sea.

It’d been way too long.

With a decisive run, he jumped from the cherry mountain and let his wings unfold. 

He didn’t have any rockets to propel him, but he didn’t need them. The air currents were strong enough to make up for it.

He wanted to take it easy in this new world. To take his time, progress at a slow pace, enjoy every part of the trajectory.

So he fished.

He sat and fished for weeks, trying to get a mending book. He built a dock where he could store his spoils, he let the ocean consume his every thought. He grew a beard. He never grew beards. Never let them grow past the stubble phase, but he did now.

He carved a giant underground tunnel as an ode to fishing, with giant fish statues leading the way to the ultimate shrine. A manifestation of his deepest desires: to get a mending book. That was all he wanted, all he could think about. 

The painting of him getting Mending changed when Scar stole it from under his nose, having pulled the line at just the right time to leave him empty-handed.

The ocean became a part of his life in a way even beyond his other previous obsessions. Maybe on par with mycelium. Or maybe mycelium consumed him more…

No, it was different. The mycelium was something he opted in whenever he wanted to be a nuisance. Fishing is something he couldn’t control. Something that simply was. The Ocean was his master, and the Ocean provided what It wanted to provide.

But now, he got the book.

He couldn’t believe it when he wiped the algae off the cover and saw the enchantment attached.

It had other enchantments too, but he didn’t care anymore. His eyes zeroed in on the mending and ignored everything else.

After so long, he could finally think straight. Could finally move on with his life. Could put down the fishing rod, take off his hat, shave his beard off.

He wanted to take it easy, in this world, but he got an elytra either way, after that. A treat for finally achieving his goal.

And now, he was soaring through the skies. His wings were perfect for it. 

Hermits below looked up at him and waved with their whole arms in greeting. They looked tiny, like this. Everything looked tiny.

He inclined the back of his wings downwards and let the updraft carry him higher up.

Grian was so far above everyone else that he couldn’t see individual Hermits anymore, just their builds. And even then, they looked so small. This was just the start of their adventure, so of course everything would be relatively small. But even in comparison to previous worlds in their starting phases, this one felt like it was made for walking, not flying from place to place.

Even if later down the line, Hermits made greater and greater builds, showing off their building prowesses, Grian knew the ground would be where they all stayed most of the time.

He even built a tunnel at the bottom of the river to clear the conflict between boat and horse users! In previous worlds, that conflict wouldn’t exist to begin with. The only horse user was Bdubs, and now, Bdubs had competition at horse-breeding in the form of Keralis. Even Grian had a horse now. A pesky thing who always tried to escape from him, but he liked it nonetheless.

He was so high up now, it rivalled the distance he got flung with Gem that one time, as they each rode a pig inside a boat, letting their friends pull them up with fishing rods. He didn’t think it was possible to reach those heights without rockets.

Maybe he wasn’t that high up in the sky, but he liked to believe he was. He ignored the coordinates displayed on his comm and closed his eyes. This high up, there was nothing he could crash against.

He felt so… alive. 

…

Something felt wrong.

His eyes popped open in a way only known to Keralis when he realised what it was.

The elytra’s durability.

At once, Grian turned to go back. He created a downdraft, hoping he could reach the ground before they broke. 

He brought his arm in front of him, checking the comms. 

Y750 Y746 Y742

He wasn’t going down fast enough. He inclined his body more.

Y736 Y730 Y724

He was nowhere near the ground. He feared checking the durability.

He could go a little steeper. 

Y716 Y708 Y690 Y650

He was going too fast now. He had to pull up at the right time if he didn’t want to crash.

He had to—

Oh.

Oh no.

His wings popped out of existence and transformed back into a pair of elytra, which clasped shut against his back.

That was it.

Grian, for the first time in ages, would crash against the ground mid-flight because he didn’t take proper precautions.

He understood how Scar felt now.

The wind that was so peaceful before now told him a story of death. Not a permanent one, he’d just respawn in his base, but getting all the way back here in time…

Soon, everything came into view. Mountains, trees, the ever-approaching ground.

He looked back at his comms and took a screenshot of his coords. He would need it.

He just hoped his things wouldn’t despawn.

He shut his eyes with force and let whatever was to happen, happen.

3, 2…

SPLASH!

Grian’s eyes opened wide and he stood, chest deep inside a pond he swore hadn’t been there moments before. What the…

When he came to himself, he dragged himself out of the water and stood at the edge of the pond, dripping wet.

Maybe he should stay off the skies for a while.

There was always fishing.

#fff242 #hermitcraft #hc10 #hermitblr #hermitcraft 10 #grian #my writing