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wordsbymae · 1 year

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Today I’m thinking of like a Jekyll and Hyde type yandere? Maybe he’s like a psych grad who entered into a research study gone wrong, because he needed the money, and the result was that his consciousness was split into two. He’s generally a quiet, levelheaded person, if a bit frantic when he really gets into his studies, but gentle. Then there’s the other half, who’s very wild and uninhibited and does what he pleases, whenever he wants. The other scientists at the facility are fascinated and choose to hold our yandere in their lab until further notice. This would obviously not be good for anyone’s mental health, so they have an idea. They were going through a list of his acquaintances and happened across the name of the Reader. Reader and the yandere weren’t all that close, with the exception of a very small crush that he had on them, but never acted on. So Reader gets abducted and is now being used as another piece in the experiment. And this is where the stark differences between the yandere and his other side start to come into play. They start fighting more often, the original wants to take things slowly with the reader and woo them, and be kind and sweet. Whereas the other would much rather rip off their clothes and pound them into the nearest mattress. In fact, I think the darker side could end up being very jealous of his opposite because it looks like the reader likes his counterpart more than him. This would lead to him fucking the reader endlessly over and over again because they’re not allowed to forget how he makes them feel. I imagine that at some point the two of them compromise and agree that rather than fight all the time, they’ll simply share the reader, so they each have them for one week. And the reader dreads the days when their little scientist has to disappear and hands them over to his other side.

How'd you know? Huh? How'd you know that I was weirdly obsessed with Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde when I was younger? Huh? How'd you know I had a huge crush on an old-timey literature figure. You've been reading my mind or something?

Ok but in all seriousness,,,, and I know I say this a lot,,,,, but I LOVE Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde tropes, Like I'm obsessed. Your idea is just absolutely amazing and I have to write something now!! (If that's ok with you, I can delete it if you want). I have unfortunately decided to not write smut really anymore, just cause (and I'm gonna sound sooooo lazy) its a bit too much work for me, and I always struggle with it, but maybe in the future, but at this stage gonna stick with smutty talk or implied stuff. Anyway!! Hope you enjoy this!

I kinda skipped straight to when Jekyll is telling the reader of their compromise, cause you set the scene so well! Also, I used their first names cause it made more sense for the reader to call them that, so henry = Jekyll, Edward = hyde. Also for some reason, Edward is australian? I didn't realise it till the end but I wrote his dialogue like a rough Aussie guy, my bad.

Lots of love, mae xx

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MINORS DNI

TW: Implied past rough sex (I didn't really say whether it was dcon or not so you can choose, but the reader doesn't like hyde, like at all) vulgar talk, implied smut, hydes a real dick. Jekyll is a sweet boy and I love him your honour. gn!reader (i do always give the reader really sweet -therefore trad fem- nicknames, but no gender described)

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The room was cold, barren and lonely. Yet despite its stark white walls and the shivers that wracked your body, you would rather be here than with him. Your body still ached from the last time, despite it being days ago, and deep bruises still rested along your hips in the shape of large fingers and hands. He loved taking you from behind, you were sure it was because it made you feel small and made him feel even bigger than he already was.

You weren't normally given your own room but after your last run-in with Edward - that beast- the researchers gave you a small mercy by allowing you a short time by yourself. They made it clear it wouldn't be for long. Hyde, they said, was deemed too unruly, when you were gone. You promptly told them you didn't fucking care.

You sat silently on the bed, knees pressed to your chest. Watching the door. You knew they would come back for you. You only hoped Henry had everything under control by then. You sighed as you watched the metal door creak open and three male scientists dressed in lab coats and holding clipboards waltzed in. Usually, armed guards would accompany them if you were with Henry, they never knew when Edward would make an appearance.

"Subject zero zero seven two, please stand for transport" one ordered.

"My name is-" you tried, sick of them dehumanising you. They called Henry and Edward by their respected last names, but you? At this point, you were sure they saw you as nothing more than a chew toy.

"Your name is not of consequence. Now please stand for transport" The larger of the three spoke, hand resting on his walkie-talkie. You knew they were seconds away from calling the guards in. With a deep sigh, you stood.

'Please, please, please let it be Henry' you begged whoever or whatever was listening.

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"Darling! You're back! Thank goodness, I was getting worried. Are you feeling ok? Did they feed you? Have you slept? When was the last time you had a bowel movement?" Henry rushed, hands holding your cheeks as he checked you over. His honey-brown eyes were a welcome comfort and his smooth hands calmed you. I was him, it was Henry.

"Henry, I'm fine! Really. Yes, they feed me, yes I slept and ew why would I tell you that?"

"Consistent bowel movements are a sign of good health. So?" he sighed.

"You don't need to know everything little about me Henry," you said, looking up at him with sad eyes.

"Yes I do, how else am I going to make sure you're ok? It's the least I could do, after...well, you know" he whimpered, hands finding yours. His fingers danced along the back of your hands before folding into palms and holding tight.

"It's not your fault I'm here Henry. It's theirs" you comforted, thumbs stroking his.

"That's not what I'm sorry about"

"I don't wanna talk about him. Please" you begged, turning away from Henry to make your way to the bed. Henry's and yours, and Edward's if you were being honest, the room was a mix between comfort and chaos. The white walls were covered in Henry's equations and sketches, most of which were drawings of scientific topics such as the anatomy of a Golden Wedge Tail Eagle, or you. To be honest most of his sketches were of you, pretty little things of you doing the most mundane of tasks. You weren't vain, but they did make you smile. The bed was filled with pillows and warm blankets, and crates of fiction and non-fiction books littered the outskirts of the room. Hanging from the ceiling were pretty little pot plants, many of which had vines and leaves that dangled down. It was a relatively large room, with an attached bathroom and a small window above the bed that Henry would use to teach you astronomy.

It was a pretty room, and it comforted you, as long as it was just you and Henry. You choose to ignore the marks left by the headboard of the bed on the wall or the blanket covering the crate filled with drawings of you doing vulgar acts, lewd and naked. For such a brute, he was quite a talented artist. You had begged Henry to destroy them, but he said Edward would be mad if he did. Henry was a sweet boy, but his other side was not.

"Actually" Henry began, "We do need to talk about him"

"Why?" you asked, fear filling your heart.

"Darling, you know if there was a way to get rid of him-" Henry stopped, and a shudder ran through him. The tell-tale sign of Edward not liking what he was hearing. Henry took a deep breath and continued "- if there was a way to separate him from me, I would...but there isn't. And we have to be practical about this"

You nodded for him to continue, despite wishing he would just shut his stupidly handsome face up.

"I can't keep fighting him. He's stronger, more aggressive, one day he might just figure out a way of getting rid of me, and I don't want to have to leave you behind with-" he stopped again, but no shudder, he had caught himself before saying something that would make Edward really mad, "I don't want to leave you" The unspoken 'with him' rested in the air " So we came to a compromise" he finished, a smile on his face.

"A compromise?" from your place on the bed, you tucked your knees into your chest.

"Yes! It was his idea actually, and a great one at that!"

It wasn't making you feel too great.

"I have one week with you and well Edward has the next. And we alternate. A week each. No more, no less"

"No!" shouted, standing from the bed to your feet. "No"

"Darling please" Henry begged, rushing to you, hands resting on your cheeks.

"You know I don't like him, Henry" you sniffled, tears making their way to your eyes, "He's cruel"

"He was just acting out, that's all! But now that we will have equal time with you, he will calm, I know it."

"Promise?"

"Promise"

"What if he doesn't? What if he's worse, what if he doesn't let you back out, what if-" you began to panic, this was truly your worst nightmare. "Henry, I can't lose you to him, please, please stay. Please fight. For me?" you begged, eyes filled with hope. Henry was kind to you, Henry loved you. Maybe you even loved Henry.

"Darling, I promise you he won't hurt you. Promise, and I promise he won't keep me locked away. He might be a, well a dick" - henry didn't like to swear- " but he is a man of his word."

"Well, I suppose I have a whole week to get ready anyway, right?"

"Ah about that"

"What?"

"He wanted the first week"

You stepped back from Henry. You felt betrayed.

"It was his idea for the compromise so I let him have the pick of the weeks" Henry guiltily explained.

"You let him?" you huffed, falling back onto the bed.

"Darling-" a shudder, "he wants to come out now, he says he already missed the first day with you-" a stronger shudder "I have to go"

"Wait! Stay just a little bit, please?" you asked, running to hug Henry. You really, really didn't want him to go.

"I'm sorry darling. Don't worry though, I'll be back before you know it"

With a sweet kiss to the cheek, he was gone. You hated it when they changed. Despised it even, the cracking of bones, and the sound of muscles tearing. You took large steps back and watched in disgust as Henry's average height grew, how his hands went from those of a researcher, smooth and clean, to large and thick, with rough skin littering them. His hair grew too, a beard made its way forth, his eyes changed too. From honey brown to icy blue. Cold and unfeeling. Edward took a second before groaning in relief.

"Fuck me! Finally outta that fucker's shitty little body!" Edward shouted, stretching his arms and back.

His eyes fell on you.

"Well hey there sweet cheeks, long time no fucking see" he grinned, eyes racking over your body. You gave him a cold look before looking elsewhere.

"Oi! Look at me when I'm talking to you! You think you're better than me don't ya love. You and that piss poor excuse for a man."

Edward made his way over to you, blocking you against the wall, Henry's sketches scratched at your neck and back

. "But ya ain't better than me darl, me and you both know that. Oh Ed, oh Eddie! Oh fuck me Ed!, remember that love? You were begging for my dick then weren't ya?" he laughed, his poor imitation of you leaving a sour taste on your tongue. "And I gave it to you alright, better than that fucker ever could, bet he can't even keep it up, eh? Well does he?" he mocked.

You turned your head away.

A hand smacked in front of your eyes, giving you a shock, you turned your head back to him, his eyes digging into you, a smirk lingering on his face.

"youse two are always scheming to keep me away aren't ya. But no longer, eh. You and me gots the whole week to ourselves. Wonder what we can get up to yeah?" his mouth made its way to your neck and you shivered in disgust ...or was that excitement? Sometimes you think you hated him so much cause you didn't.

"You and me gonna have a whole lotta fun eh darl, I'm gonna fuck you so hard all your gonna think about when you're with that fuckwit is my cock fucking you wide open, like the good fucking whore you are. And I promise I won't tell your little mate how much you liked it."

"Promise?" you whimpered.

"Promise"

#yandere male #yandere #dr jekyll and mr hyde #dr jekyll yandere #mr hyde yandere #gn!reader #male yandere #yandere x gn reader

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yanderes-galore · 2 years

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(Sorry I had so many requests 😭 I just really love your writing so much 🤧❤️❤️❤️)

It's been a long time since I last read about Hyde so...

Hyde with prey! Darling, but the darling loves to tease him 👀👉👈 (you can make it as sfw/nsfw, up to you)

THANK SO MUCH PANTHER 😳❤️

You didn't have many according to my list! It's all good, the wolf boy needed some more love anyway!

Yandere! Hyde with Prey! Darling Teasing Him

Reaction/Short Concept

Possible Trigger Warnings: Yandere-like behavior, Possessive behavior, Tempting fate, Teasing, Predator/Prey dynamic.

- Better hope you're quick prey if you're going to tease the wolf.

- Hyde can't entirely tell if he wants to eat you... or he wants to "eat" you when it comes to a Prey! Darling

- You teasing him certainly doesn't help.

- His green eyes are so intense towards you.

- Lips quivering while he tries to fight back an animalistic growl.

- Yet despite the frightening attitude of the wolf hybrid, you tease.

- Saying how for a predator he's so handsome when he growls.

- How he looks so desperate for you~

- You're just pushing and pushing your boundaries around him

- Acting oh so daring towards the larger hybrid, one conflicted on what he wants with you.

- Although, you best be careful.

- Push a little too hard on the wolf's weakness around you... and you'll have consequences.

- Consequences that include the emerald eyed gray wolf pouncing on you, drool dribbling down off his lips.

- Only for said lips to curl into a grin

- A predatory grin that strikes unease into your heart.

- You just hope you've charmed him enough for him to go easy on you.

- "What a dangerous game you're playing! Let's see how fast you can run...!"

#yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere wolf #yandere hybrid #yandere hyde

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yukiotadako · 2 years

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introduction

————

Hello! I'm a fellow gn writer from and I wanna start doing some writing here! I can take fem,male, and NB reader requests but if I don't get any requests it will mostly be male ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

Fandoms I can write for:

Haikyuu

Genshin impact

Jekyll & Hyde MASM

Harry potter

Spy X family

Shadows house

Tears of themis

Project sekai

One piece

Black clover

Enstars

Obey me

Yandere simulator

Wednesday

Creepypasta

Jujutsu kaisen

Blue lock

aot

If you have any other fandom you want to request feel free to tell me!!

———

Here are the stuffs I can write.

Fluff

Angst

Romance

Enemies to lovers

Same gender fics.

Etc

Once I learn more stuffs I'll try my best to start writing more genres (⁠ ⁠´⁠◡⁠‿⁠ゝ⁠◡⁠`⁠) (also ill try my best for like smut and all)

#x male reader #x female reader #x gn reader #introduction #lgbtq #haikyuu #genshin impact #shadows house #wednesday #black clover #tears of themis #yandere simulator #obey me #jekyll and hyde

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ghostsy · 4 months

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The Other

yandere ! ITADORI YUJI x READER x yandere ! SUKUNA

WARNINGS: yandere, misogyny, nsfw, implied noncon

A/N: A bit different than usual, less story and more imagine, I just had a Thought TM that wouldn't leave me alone.

read at your own discretion.

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What about Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, but it’s 19th century Gothic Yuji and Sukuna obsessing over their cute little lab assistant.

Where Yuji finds himself falling in love with the pretty little thing that turned up one night on his doorstep. How could a gentleman refuse a damsel in distress? She’d had nowhere to go, and a woman on the streets is a woman without dignity. He’d done her a favor taking her in, feeding her, clothing her, teaching her everything he knows. Well, almost everything.

And it’s not that she’s not grateful, no, she’s always eager to please, pretty doe eyes blinking up at him with only the purest intentions of proving her worth.

It’s when that voice in his head that he swears isn’t his starts to talk.

Bend her over and spread her legs.

He’d had years of experience tuning the other inside of him out, and begrudgingly grew used to the snide remarks about the so-called useless pussy on legs. But it’s only when his more ignoble half begins to make suggestions with less than savory intentions that he finds himself wavering. He tries to reason that it isn’t him, not really. He can keep it under control. He always has.

It’s the small things really, how she bites the tip of her pencil in concentration during his lectures, determined to be of some use to him. Pretty lips parted oh so delicately, hugging the tip to her teeth.

Let me out. I want to see that whore mouth painted white with my cum.

Or when she blinks dumbly at him from under butterfly lashes, a sheepish giggle and warmth on her cheeks because something he said went in one ear, through her ditzy little brain, and out the other.

Dumb little thing would sink down and suck our cock dry if we told her it was in the name of science, wouldn’t she?

An involuntary twitch of his fingers sends his heart leaping to his throat.

Why don’t you find out?

He drowns it out until the cover of night shields him, locked inside his chambers before giving an inch to the monster. Stroking his cock to the image of her laid out naked and moaning beneath him, legs spread and welcoming. Where the thought of licking the sweat from the skin of her neck has him hurtling off that cliff, and into the resulting ocean of shame.

Little things build up, he finds, and even with her painfully female brain, she begins to notice something off. Though, he finds himself grateful when it isn’t disgust that meets him, but concern. Oh, bless women and their nurturing sensibilities.

She’ll fuss over him like a true lady, mothering but not smothering. Anything he needs to help soothe those pesky migraines. And he’ll finally realize an acceptable way to indulge in his impure thoughts. He’ll make the street urchin he turned lady his wife.

He ignores the rumbling of low laughter that rattles his brain at the thought, deep enough to shake something important but easily forgotten in his bones.

He’ll make all the appropriate preparations for a courtship, determined to woo her as a man would, as a man should. Dress her up, and take her on a promenade through the finest parts of town, introducing her to the finest people at the finest parties.

But he reasons that was his first mistake. Because when he watches her laugh, all airy and bright, intentionally tempting, entirely too close to that brooding dark-haired duke he liked to call brother, white hot fury spills into his veins. That distant familiar desire, heady in all its glory, bloodlust, is his only warning. And the other, who’d been quiet for quite some time, smugly returns.

A whore is a whore no matter the clothes. You thought she’d choose you?

He’ll down glass after glass of scotch, determined to ignore it, but too focused on the brush of her delicate fingers alongside the Duke’s sleeve. There’s a look in his friend’s eye he’s never quite seen before; it’s soft, warm, and it’s all it takes for him to rush to the water closet and hurl up the contents of his stomach.

Pathetic. A man doesn’t wait to be chosen. A man takes what’s his. There’s only one between us. Let me out.

A man takes what’s his. It’s a thought that settles too comfortably in his mind, and he resolves to keep her close. No more outings with those snobbish lords and ladies. Just to save her the embarrassment of exposing the unrefined nature of her peasant birth any more than she already had.

It’ll work for a time, but it’s just a little while later that his brother turned traitor starts turning up on the manor’s doorstep with his own intentions of courtship. Excuses of their preoccupation with scientific breakthroughs and studies only keep him at bay for so long.

I’ll do what you can’t. Let me out.

He begins to wonder whether the beast had been wrong when he catches her wistful stares out the window, too conspicuously asking about the wellbeing of a man that isn’t him. A whore is a whore. When she comes back from town with the excuse of restocking food or supplies, why does she take longer and longer to return each time?

Let Me Out.

He’ll question why it isn’t enough. Why he isn’t enough. He isn’t, not if her attention still turned elsewhere. There’s a beating at the door of his mind that threatens to split at any moment. Finally, mercifully, she’ll relieve the struggle with two words.

He proposed.

He proposed. He proposed. He proposed. He doesn’t hear anything after that, not as she sputters out empty placations and gratitude. Not when she solidifies her intentions of leaving him.

He just responds in kind with two earth-shattering words of his own.

Come out.

#yandere jjk #yandere itadori #yandere sukuna #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere itadori x reader #yandere sukuna x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #i wrote this today so if there's grammar mistakes no there's not

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ataraxiaspainting · 4 months

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It's Cold Outside.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

Synopsis: A stranger has weaseled his way into every aspect of your life.

Warnings: Yandere themes, non-con/dub-con (the reader is under the influence of aphrodisiacs but non-consensually), the reader is described as AFAB and uses she/her pronouns respectfully, threats of violence, stalking, manipulation, Chrollo the Creepster, and unhealthy relationships.

Word Count: 2.2k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

(You’re The) Devil in Disguise by Elvis Presley

Salvatore by Lana Del Ray

Who Is She? by I Monster

Kiss Of Fire by Georgia Gibbs

Money, Money, Money by ABBA

Sex with a Ghost by Teddy Hyde

4:00A.M. by Taeko Onuki

How I’d Kill by Cowboy Malfoy

Sonne by Rammstein

The Great Gig in the Sky by Pink Floyd

“I say let the world go to hell, but I should always have my tea.” — Fyodor Dostoevsky, Notes from the Underground

*~*~*~*

i. “Technicolor worlds with white clouds are bound to be destroyed by silver snow.”

When you step into your house, it is like you are instantly transported back to a year ago. Everything in sight, from the walls to the shelves, has decorations of some kind, whether going all out with the kitchen table having an entire feast of delicious holiday treats made by your grandparents, or just a green and red painting of a Christmas tree placed in your older sister’s usually monochromatic room. Perhaps the painting is yet another way she proves that she can somewhat react well to requests to change her room a little bit. Even if the painting is on the farthest wall from the door and is partially hidden from view by the many anime figurines and books larger than your head. Your mother claims that it is a miracle she convinced her to put up any holiday decorations in her room at all and thus doesn’t bother her further.

Each room also has a different festive scent, your younger sister’s room having a hot chocolate scent mixed with the smell of piled up dishes on her desk, most coming from when she was ‘helping’ your grandparents cook by ‘testing to make sure the food isn't poison’.

How heroic of her to sacrifice herself for the family.

Your room, you think, looks much better than your sisters’ combined, having decked it out to the maximum by taking out all of your Halloween decorations and replacing them with Christmas ones. It took you the whole weekend, sure, and caused you to break the bank, but your love for accessories outweighs your logic and reason by quite a lot. Your beloved record player is back on your table that also simultaneously houses your television and jewelry playing Elvis Presley’s Blue Christmas. A wreath larger than your torso is on your door and your room smells like all the holiday air fresheners you found in your closet. Pine, peppermint, orange, lemon, cranberry… all mix to make a beautiful festive scent unmatched by even your parents’ bedroom. Everything is how it should be, and how it always is every year.

Well, almost. A man named Chrollo, a man who gives you anything but comfort, has been invited to your family-only yearly Christmas party. When your father, who has always been too protective of you and your sisters and never lets you spend time with the opposite gender, told you that Chrollo of all people would be attending, you tried to argue otherwise. You tried telling him that none of you had known Chrollo for so long, but he had rebutted Chrollo’s lie that you had known him for over a year with you two developing a close bond. You realized it was too late then, and Chrollo had charmed your entire family, with even your older sister always having a smile on her face whenever she saw him at her workplace.

ii. “Like actors, each snowflake has a different role to play. They sing along with every step of a boot as a deceitful way to express their pain.”

The moment the doorbell chimes, its piercing resonance assaults your eardrums and causes an unsettling shiver to course through your spine.

You find yourself in an unsettling situation as your family eagerly awaits, and to your dismay, you are the designated individual tasked with the responsibility of opening the door. You two are such good friends, aren’t you? We wouldn’t want to get in the way of your bonding time.

You want to say he is lying, to tell them everything, every threat he has told you, him meaning them or otherwise. But as soon as they know of what Chrollo really and truly is, they will meet a painful end; that being pushed onto train tracks, their drink being laced with a poison that destroys the body from the inside out, or having nails thrusted into their bloody palms as they hang on their bedroom wall as you look in horror. Elton, Anya, and Robert all being examples of such… You don’t want to think of the bodies just waiting to rot around the Riverbend, your fault or otherwise.

You also don’t want to drown in this river. A river inhospitable to any aquatic life whatsoever, and only harbors a barrier of carnivorous plants that eat those who dare come close. Butterworts, large lilac purple ones that feel like they have been dipped in the most tempting butter mixed with forbidden fruit and honey produced by none other than the queen bee herself. Are you the fly, or are they? You have no idea, and you don’t want to find out.

“Hello.” Your response is concise and devoid of warmth, with a noticeable absence of your usual cheerful demeanor evident in your expression and tone.

Chrollo's smile is so sinister that even the most depraved devil's grin would pale in comparison, with all the large gift bags behind him swinging like a tail.

“Ah, [First]. Happy holidays. No need to be so cold, you know. The snow is already doing that for you. So-”

Despite your strong desire to slam the door in his face, you choose to step aside and allow him entry, in an attempt to silence him.

“Put the gifts by the tree by the kitchen table. The white table and not the black one.”

However, rather than fulfilling your expectations, all he does is elicit a burst of laughter so unique that it resonates within you, while discreetly handing over the most colossal gift bag, compelling you to accept it as if under some intangible force.

“Just a little something. I know it’s customary to wait until later but… I simply can’t help myself. Open it whenever you get the chance, dearest.”

…He means right now, in your room, doesn’t he? Perhaps he installed a camera in your room as you slept, he has certainly threatened to do that before. Or maybe he will just spy on you through the little space between the door and the frame. He has done that before, after all.

…

You resisted the urge to scream when you saw a picture of your mother sleeping blissfully, the camera focused on her ring finger with the caption Should I take another souvenir? written on it, but the card, as beautiful as it appeared with a lace envelope and your name written in script on the card’s cover above Chrollo’s, proved to be even more of a challenge. When you read the words on it, your heart plunges so deeply that you fear your gastric acid will erode it.

Save your tears. For even if you cry to the whole world, it will never be enough to make me disappear. Meet me outside in five minutes, and make whatever excuse you deem necessary. No exceptions.

As you begin to read further, a wave of fragrant and delicate floral scents envelops your senses, instantly igniting a warm sensation in your head, leaving no time for contemplation.

Trying to ignore your slight dizziness, you read the rest of the card.

Just a little something to make sure you do this. We wouldn’t want your family to see you in… what state you are about to be in, do we?

…Just what did he do to you?

iii. “With the burden of wintertime ending, nature spends time creating beautiful trees and flowers. To accompany them, she makes twisted vines and weeds, for she knows that without them there cannot be balance or purpose in being comfortably numb.”

You were on your back, on his bed, within what felt like one second, not remembering the car ride over to his place, your wrists pinned beneath the strength of one of Chrollo's hands while he looked down at you within another, his other undoing the tie of the bandana on his forehead and showing you, for the very first time, of the cross tattoo underneath it.

All you can do is watch your whole world slow down and be replaced by a dream.

A blissful and sweet dream, as sugary as saccharine and as dissolvable as cotton candy, that is a veil and covers your eyes from what is happening; until it is too late, until you feel some of his fingers go into the band of your skirt and start pulling and pulling, downward, and that is when terror went to combat with your unwanted lust.

“...What… are… you… doing…? Chroooooo…” Your words slur as your mind buzzes with euphoria, and you can feel every sensation in vivid detail, every touch and every breath feeling heightening and intoxicating. As much as you want to, you can’t tell him to stop, not now.

“Shh, it’s what you want, isn’t it?” At least that is what you think he said, because as Chrollo spoke, you struggled to decipher his words amidst the haze that enveloped your mind. Reality fragments, leaving you unable to muster the strength to plead for him to cease. “It will feel oh so very good, I promise. Very, very nice and very, very good.” With that, you come to realize the wetness between your rubbing thighs, amidst the cloudiness and the larger-than-life headache that rips your skull apart. “Do you trust me?” The voice sounds almost heartfelt, not as intimate as it could be, but it was still more than enough for your hands to cling to him and pull him in closer, faster, so he could relieve you of this hell. “I will assume that that is a yes.” His hands move to the two buttons on your blouse, undoing them with ease, softly, gently, like it was a baby bird.

“Faster… faster…!” You feel like a man who hasn’t seen water on any day of their life, and if you lose the location of the oasis you are sure to never find it again.

Like a man lost in the desert, you choke on imaginary quicksand, soon to drown if water does not save you.

“Aw, such a precious little thing, aren’t you?” You are gently flipped over in an instant and he unbuckles your bra, quickly.

“If you love me… really love me… make me feel better… please.”

“Don’t worry, I will.” He flips you over again and his fingers lower to your panties, pulling them down from your trembling legs, just like he did with your skirt. “You trust me after all, don’t you?”

You cry out yes after utterly desperate yes, as he watches, his smile getting wider as he starts undoing his belt. He puts a finger on your lips after he has heard enough, shushing you gently.

“Then trust me when I say that this, my dear, is for your own good.”

Beneath the surface, whether it be shallow or not, you have no desire to comprehend his intentions.

You don’t want to know. You just want this to go away.

iv. “Through discoveries, there is a hint of madness that enters our minds. Only then can we see our world’s colors change from squid ink and bone to begonias and finches.”

Chrollo undoes his belt, then his pants, and then his boxers. You focus on his face to ignore what is currently nearly touching the side of the mattress by a hair or two, hard and enlarged and slightly pink and-

He takes off his shirt button after button, much, much, much slower than how he took off the rest of his clothing. There exists a deep-seated anger within you, yet it is accompanied by a sense of gratitude, as both you and he are aware of your mutual aversion towards this situation.

Despite both of you being aware that this is not your desired outcome, he still kisses you, gently, full of warmth, and tenderly. What you truly desire is to satisfy the ache within you. But he won’t give it to you yet, will he?

Time seems to drag on as his kisses get faster, and more hungry, with his tongue essentially becoming another of your muscles, wet, and neither wanted nor unwanted.

Eventually, you get what you want, after enough begging for him to just get it over with. At the beginning, there is a gentle caress resembling a warm and velvety rose petal. However, as time progresses, the touch becomes increasingly forceful until his fingers enter. But it does not hurt. Should you be thankful for that? At least he is being nice.

He starts thrusting, and that also does not hurt. No soreness. You won't feel any discomfort until your eyes meet, causing a sensation that almost makes you want to throw up, were it not for the illicit satisfaction this dreadful encounter brings. It's a peculiar kind of pain, one that lingers like a ghost stealthily gliding through walls, catching you off guard before you can comprehend its presence.

Nothing hurts, and that in of itself gives you the most pain anyone could imagine.

v. “Heat lightning gives way to summer storms and verdant wind. This makes for a hauntingly beautiful melody of ripples and thunder.”

“…And this maiden, she lived with no other thought than to love and be loved by me.”

vi. “The dead, fallen leaves of autumn come in many shades from bright red to a dull brown. They flow with the wind from one place to the next as invitations from those who passed on to the living.”

#TIME TO WRITE SIN..........#(sweats nervously)#author aya #yandere #yandere x reader #hxh #phantom troupe #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh #chrollo hunter x hunter #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo x reader #not sfw #yandere hxh x reader #hxh x reader

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aphroditelovesu · 7 months

Text

The Bloody Viscount - II

— summary: You had fallen in love with Viscount Bridgerton and he had fallen in love with you. The marriage seemed perfect, but then why did Anthony Bridgerton always come home late and bloodstained?

— gender: yandere, dark!au.

— warnings: obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, kidnapping, angst, fluffy, dub-con (?), possibly smut.

— pairing: yandere!anthony bridgerton x female!reader.

— word count: 1,705.

— tag list: @will-delete-this-later-probably, @cayt0123, @flowercrowns-goodvibes, @czarinera, @remuslupinwifee

— prologue, chapter 1;

Chapter 2

''Viscount Bridgerton was seen dancing with Lady (Y/N) (L/N) at Lady Danbury's ball last night. I have no information on how she had the cunning to attract Lord Bridgerton's attention, yet. He seemed quite enamored with his partner, dare I say. Will we have a Viscountess soon? After all, who better to play the role of viscountess than the diamond of the season?

Chronicles of the Society of Lady Whistledown, April 27, 1813.

''Ah!'' Your mother's scream of happiness was hard to ignore. You were trying to embroider some flowers, but with your mother's constant shouting it was difficult to concentrate.

That's because you were in separate rooms.

''(Y/N)!'' She shouted your name. Sighing, you got up from the couch and placed your unfinished embroidery aside. You smoothed your light blue dress so she wouldn't scold you and went to the dining room.

''Yes, mom?'' You asked as you entered the dining room, where your parents were together. Your father was drinking a cup of tea and your mother had Lady Whistledown's newspaper open.

''Have you read today's Whistledown?''

You shook your head in denial.

''Well then, read it!''

You fight the inner urge to scoff. She always scolded you every time she saw you reading, but you suppressed your words. You sat down on the padded chair and began to read.

What you had read did not please you in the same way it had pleased your mother.

'Isn't this wonderful?'' Your mother looked at your father.

He cleared his throat, ''I suppose.''

She wasn't even listening to his words, ''Our daughter has captivated a viscount! Imagine what this could do for us?'' She rambled.

''Mom...'' You sighed.

''This is perfect! You will be a perfect viscountess.''

You sank into the chair, wanting to hide. She wouldn't listen to you. She never listened. She seemed very happy with the idea of being part of the british aristocracy.

''Lady Whistledown has been writing about you, brother.''

Anthony looked at Benedict who was drinking tea and biscuits. He frowned at him.

''Really?'' Anthony muttered disinterestedly, looking at his gathered family. His mother was sitting on the couch with Hyacinth, Francesca, Gregory and Eloise. Colin and Benedict were beside him.

Damn Whistledown always wrote about him. He just wanted to find out who the damn woman was and choke her.

Until death, preferably.

''Apparently you found your viscountess.'' Benedict teased, sharing a knowing look with Colin.

His mother turned her face towards them the moment the word “Viscountess” left Benedict’s mouth. Anthony mentally cursed him.

Anthony knew who they were talking about and as much as it irritated him, they were telling the truth. He had found his viscountess and was determined to marry her.

Lady (Y/N). She was quite lovely and captivated him in a way no woman ever had. He wanted to make her his wife.

And he would.

''Is it true?'' Colin asked.

Anthony rolled his eyes. Benedict held back a laugh.

''Yes. I'm going to marry Lady (Y/N) (L/N).''

He ignored it when his mother looked at him, curious and shocked. He ignored his brothers' curious looks. All he thought about at that moment was her. Beautiful and wonderful, dressed in white at an altar.

All perfect for him. Perfect for him to ruin.

The park was beautiful and full, as always. Looking around, you saw several debutantes and suitors, with their mothers at their heels. You liked Hyde Park, it was a beautiful and comfortable place.

Well, it tends to be when your mother isn't on your heels.

You loved her. You really loved her. But sometimes you wish you didn't depend on her, that you didn't have to deal with all of this. It's suffocating.

And hearing her talk about the viscount didn't make you excited. And you didn't even like it. He was an attractive man and your dance at Lady Danbury's ball was something special.

You admitted all of this, but...

But you knew how to handle it right. You didn't even know if he was really interested in you. You knew his reputation, how he was a libertine and that didn't make you comfortable at all.

You would like to marry for love, or at least to a gentleman who did not have such a reputation as the viscount possessed. It was unlikely to happen, but you couldn't give up hope.

Sighing, you looked around.

You and your mother were sitting on a picnic blanket spread out on the lush green lawn of Hyde Park. You were sitting between some pillows that had been placed and drinking a glass of lemonade.

Near you were the Featherington's. You waved at Penelope when she looked at you and, seemingly embarrassed, she smiled and waved back.

"So, she said- (Y/N)!" You turned your scared head to your mother, "Are you even listening to what I'm saying?"

No, you weren't.

"I'm sorry mom."

She rolled her eyes, "As I was saying..." You didn't even bother to listen to her. You looked over at the Featherington's and saw Miss Eloise Bridgerton talking to Penelope.

You didn't pay much attention.

Until you heard that voice. That damn voice that haunted your dreams last night.

"Lady (Y/N) (L/N)."

You stood up quickly, smoothing down your dress. You gave a small curtsy, "Lord Bridgerton."

He looked impeccable as always. You couldn’t help but blush at the intensity of his gaze on you. You felt your body tremble a little when he took your hand and kissed your right hand, gently and kind.

"Lord Bridgerton!" Your mother quickly stood up and greeted him.

"Lady (Y/M) (L/N)." Anthony took your mother's gloved hand and gave it a polite kiss.

"It's a pleasure to see you here."

"My mother insisted that I accompany her." He replied.

"Oh, is Lady Violet here?"

Anthony nodded, "She's right there." He pointed out to his mother that he was talking to Lady Danbury.

"I see." Your mother muttered, looking at the two women vehemently.

"I would like to ask your permission to walk with Lady (Y/N)." You choked on his words.

Your mother's eyes perked up.

"Of course. (Y/N) would love to walk a bit."

You mentally rolled your eyes. But your mother's reprimanding look made you stiff.

Anthony reached his arm out to you and without much of a choice, you hooked his arm with yours.

You tried to ignore the shiver the contact brought you.

With your mother in the behind, you and the viscount began walking through the park in silence at first.

"Does my presence make you uncomfortable?" He asked suddenly.

You shook your head quickly.

"No. It's not that. I just... I get lost in my thoughts sometimes." Your words were not lies.

"Good." That's all he said.

You kept your attention on the flowers and trees in front of you. All very beautiful, well-groomed and full of life.

"It's very beautiful, isn't it?" You murmured to a small bed of roses.

Anthony followed your gaze and nodded.

"Do you like flowers?" You knew it was probably a silly question to ask a man, but you didn't care.

Anything was better than the silence that had become uncomfortable.

"I have nothing against them." You laughed a little. He smiled and continued, "But I think hyacinths are beautiful."

"They are."

Anthony let go of your hand and went to a white rose bush, he picked up the flower and removed its thorns. You looked at him confused, until he handed you the rose.

You felt your heart speed up at such a gesture. It was the first time you received flowers from someone and you never realized how much you wanted flowers until you received them.

"T-Thank you, Lord Bridgerton."

"Lady (Y/N)." He took on a serious tone and you were alarmed, "You can call me Anthony."

"That wouldn't be appropriate..."

When he approached you and touched your free hand, your breathing became heavy. This was wrong. You shouldn't be this close.

"I think I've made my intentions pretty clear." He whispered, looking straight into your eyes. "I believe I've made it clear that I want to court you."

You couldn't respond.

"I want you to call me Anthony..." He murmured, his breath very close to your face, "Because I want to become your husband."

You weren’t sure if you could breathe.

''I...'' You swallowed, pulling away a little.

Anthony frowned but didn't protest.

You coughed and squeezed the rose a little tighter.

"I think we need to go back."

He watched you like a predator watched its prey. He remained silent for a few minutes before nodding.

"Of course. It's getting late." He offered you his arm and you took it.

The walk back to where your mothers were was silent and under the watchful eyes of other people.

You just wanted to lie down and not have to deal with the interrogation your mother would do later.

Anthony couldn't sleep.

He tried and tried. He changed position several times, but sleep never came.

His mind was stuck on you.

How he had touched you. Even though it wasn't a direct touch, due to the glove you were wearing, he still thought.

He thought about what it would be like to slip on that glove and feel your skin against his.

Anthony tried to fight the feelings, the desires that were growing but he couldn't. All he found himself thinking about was kissing you, tasting your skin and touching you in places you had never been touched.

So pure. So inocent. So virginal.

His. His perfect diamond.

It was these thoughts that brought him to climax in the silent and lonely night in his room.

He caressed himself thinking about what you would look like under those dresses, the expressions you would make when he was inside you. How you would moan his name when you reached your own climax.

It was these thoughts, these mental images that caused him to moan your name like a prayer as he released himself into his hand, making it dirty.

Anthony closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

He needed to marry you soon.

— lady l: What did you think of the chapter? I hope you liked it, I'm sorry for the delay and any errors there were! Feel free to give me your feeback. Drink water and I love you you all! ❤️

#bridgerton #the bridgertons #yandere bridgerton #yandere the bridgertons #yandere anthony bridgerton #yandere anthony bridgerton x reader #the bloody viscount #anthony bridgerton x reader #long fic #fanfic

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blueparadis · 7 months

Text

꒰ WHEN WE COLLIDED ꒱ ⋮ RAN HITANI.

───❪ SYNOPSIS ❫ ⋮ A decision always changes the course of one's life but mainly it affects just one person, the one who takes the decision. However, an accident doesn't, it affects more than one person. Ran seems to believe he can have both in his favor if he plays his cards at the right time.

───❪ TAGS ❫ ⋮ MDNI, 18+ & M RATING.

(sub!)ran haitani x (switch!)fem!reader, one sided pinning, manipulation, death via accident ( MCD ), fruity!ran agenda, yandere themes, mention of implied cheating, domestic violence ( not by ran ), bad marriage,slow burn, eventual smut.

───❪ PLAYLIST ❫ ⋮ stay by stephan, too close by sir chloe, million dollar man by lana del rey, i am the dog by sir chloe, me and my husband by mitski, movement by hozier, don't you know by james young, do i wanna know by arctic monkeys, sex with a ghost by teddy hyde, stuck on a puzzle alex turner, cherry waves by deftones, the witch by Rosenfeld & khemis.

part one. ┊summary: The monotony in the life of Ran Haitani has a flicker of excitement. It turns up for a second and then goes out. But, for a hungry animal to denounce the prey, even if it is a slice is nothing but a mockery of the ways of nature. word count —2,5k┊

The tiny fancy bell hanging just above the entrance of the restaurant seems to be swinging more than usual tonight. The sound echoes through the long quiet corridor that takes a left turn towards a diverging compound full of people, gossip, sophisticated drinks, and food. Ran takes a glance as the glass door opens and then retracts to his phone again. The door closer does its job as the footsteps of the customer steadily make it toward one of the two-seater tables. Even with all the hubbub, Ran could perfectly hear the sound of boots, the greetings, the laughs, the food orders — the only mixture of sounds that does not seem to irritate him, and it should not, certainly for any restaurant owner like him. One should be happy if none of the chairs go empty for a long while. Ran is, but it has now become more of a dull luxury than a happy Friday evening that seemed to be well-spent. There is a certain monotony in everything, even at the oddest of surreality, like a speck of ink over a silky dress. Harmless but annoying once it is spotted. Ran knows that. He is more aware than anyone who is present here to spend a lively evening than other treacherous ones; just to be scooped out of this monotonous life, even if it is just for a few hours.

There is an elderly couple sitting by the giant glass window on a table of two. Next to them sits a family of eight, two young couples and the parents, perhaps. A toddler has lost her way while roaming in between the cubicles of the diner, while her mother is worriedly running behind her. Ran smiles at that, thinking adults often fail to keep up with children, even their own. There are people everywhere he sets his eyes, some are eating, some are busy talking, and some are waiting all by themselves, some are meeting for the first hello while some are meeting for the last goodbye.

All these remind him of himself, in bits and pieces, that he abandoned long ago in his sprouting youth when his parents died. As per the local news, it was an accident and made it to the headlines the next day. Ran still remembers how he let Rindou sleep on his bed in the dorm room while he was awake the whole night thinking about why he felt such a weight on his shoulders. They were immediately sent home; to be taken care of since such a merciless strike of tragedy tainted their fates. But of course, he remembers nothing about it now, nothing too vivid to be haunted by it and also, nothing too positively significant to look forward to making a family. He remembers how he used to come to this very building holding his father’s hand during every summer break while Rindou would stay at home. It was not a restaurant back then. He remembers how his mother always asked the maids to handle Rindou. He remembers how his father sent Rindou and him to boarding school just to enjoy his sparkling youth with their mother. Nubile hearts are far too young to tend to their brand-new hearts except for each other.

A year later tragedy befell. At such a young age, one could barely understand what was happening let alone feel it. But Ran remembers it all. It is like a set of scenes flashing at the back of his mind whenever he catches a glimpse of familial activities. Sometimes he feels guilty about not grieving for them enough but then again, there was not much time, he spent with his Oka-sama and Otou-sama, whenever he looked back on the days of his childhood. Before Rindou, he had two years; two years of holding his dad’s hand whenever he was off to work, and roaming inside the giant mansion in the name of exploring while he was slowly eaten away by loneliness, agony, and vexation until Rindou came into his life.

Ran was not alone, not anymore. He could barely wait for Rindou to walk all by himself. He would spend hours sitting by his crib and playing with Rindou’s toys. And, when Rindou learned to walk, Ran had so many things to share, so many hide-outs, so many discoveries, so much to catch up on. He loves his brother immensely but a tiny part of him was always envious of him. Well, it had nothing to do with the affection and attention Rindou used to get from Oka-sama and Otou-sama but those two years. . . those two years of wandering inside the mansion, seeing things that he was not supposed to see, hearing things that he was not supposed to hear, not for a boy of his age, never left him. The howling silence followed him since then.

Even now he hates giant empty spaces, especially checking out new penthouses or apartments in other lively parts of Roppongi; that is solely handled by Rindou along with practicing in his law firm. Ran loves having a room full of people yet does not understand the process of starting a family, courting someone, falling in love, or to put it simply being too fond of them over others, marrying them, taking vows, and so on. It never ends. It is too demanding and risky for someone who never had a family in the first place. It makes his skin crawl, and stomach turn so much that whenever he looks in the mirror he sees nothing but an empty can waiting to be crushed and discarded. But everything fades when he enters a room full of people, all the anguish and anger. So, he clearly does not understand this theory called ‘family’ yet every friday, Ran Haitani comes to his restaurant situated at the cream of Roppongi just to know what family is, just to know what is holding him back from having one.

Truth be told, he has now got the hang of it. Coming here, watching all these people bask in neon lights, monitor the staff sometimes, and if his mood permits he might hit the bar section to indulge himself in something less turbulent than family, responsibilities, and relationships; ‘to live a little’, as put by Rindou. But tonight he is more invested in something else entirely. He has no intention of drowning himself in desires.

There is a couple sitting by the entrance of this giant diner. From his position, he can only see the face of the guy and the back of the girl. Even though he is seated diagonally at that table, he can barely make the crescent of her face, even the reflection of her face on the glass is blurred. Ran tilts his head and rests it on his hand: index finger at his temple and the others at his cheek creating a dip. The loose strands of his hair graze his forehead. There are people coming and going in the range of his vision but he is not moving, not his eyes, not his mind, only steady intake of breaths and exhaling deeply occasionally. From the looks of it, they seem to be on their first date. Awkward. None of them is talking. While the guy is constantly glancing at the girl every now and then, the girl seems to be busy checking the menu. The guy's face seems familiar. Maybe he could remember his name, or where he has seen him if only he could get a glance of the girl. . . although, Ran is not surprised, not in the least. He is aware of how this restaurant of his has turned into an expensive date spot over the years. Of all the restaurants he owns, he never thought that this place of all places would witness more relationships and heartbreaks than others. Since no one seemed to break the ice, Ran took the liberty of doing it by himself.

“Waiter,” he waves his right hand. He still has not distorted his posture. “Has table number 34 ordered anything yet?”

“No sir,” the waiter supplies. Ran still has his hooded eyes lingering over them. He flicks the first two fingers of his right hand beckoning the staff closer to him. “Tell them that they don’t need to worry about the bill. Everything is on the house.” He pauses; and clicks his tongue hearing his phone vibrate. “And—” he declines the call and then switches up his gaze again at the waiter. “Also, tell them how good they look together. Just drop some easy compliments. It’s their first date, after all.” Ran gives his signature smile to him.

Before the waiter could bow and take his leave Ran gets another call. This time he picks up and the first thing he says is how he is waiting for the rain to be over, since he forgot to bring an umbrella he would rather wait than book a cab. He disconnects the call and clicks his tongue again. He would have loved to see their reaction, especially hers. Be it a hazy reflection than seeing her through his lavender gaze, at least he will be able to see her smile. Another call and he leaves his seat walking towards the exit.

“Good evening ma’am. Good evening sir—” the waiter begins and Ran rampages out of the hall holding about his phone against his ear, his other hand swinging while walking, just some inches away from her seat. He takes the turn and begins to walk through the lonely corridor. He could easily turn his head, look back, and have a glance at her. But he does not. He has more pressing matters to attend to. Was it tempting? Obviously. In his line of work, he has seen a lot of men and women dress with delicate sophistication but rare is the case where he is tempted to take a second glance. But as a matter of fact, he did not even get one decent look. So, looking back and seeing her face would not count as a second glance, would it now?

“. . .so let me know when you would like to order,” The waiter switches his gaze from you to the man sitting in front of you. “Like I said, everything is on the house. Enjoy your date, Sir.” He glanced at you with an assuring smile and took his leave. It takes longer than usual for you to register what just happened. Did someone just volunteer to pay for the food thinking you came here for a blind date? With this man? You never thought someone would mistake you and your almost ex-husband to be a couple. There were no sparks, no roses. Just thorns and burns in this relationship. A laugh breaks out on your face like a plague but you bite the inner flesh of your lower lip not to show the sheer disgust on your face. Anyone could tell that it was not a happy marriage. The man who had been painstakingly present in your life for the past two years and now that you have finally made up your mind to cut ties with him, someone, someone in this crowd thought that you were set on a new beginning, ready to read a new chapter in your life with him. How fucking funny! You took a sip of water brushing aside these blood-boiling thoughts. There is no point in dwelling on the past, especially when it is bitter and bruised, not healing.

“Y/N, are you listening?” Taiju placed his palm over yours to have your eyes on him. You turn out to be stubborn. Your eyes were still stuck on the plate full of food. You have been playing with your food while he keeps talking about his business. He gave a squeeze to your palm, “You’ve been distracted since the beginning. Is something the matter? Maybe we should meet—

“We should not,” you spoke out of the blue, breaking from your trance. His face contorts, his eyebrows squeeze in and out, his lips become flat and suddenly he feels that something is stuck in his throat. It is hard to breathe. “I mean, I’m willing to give us a chance. Just this once.” A smile smothered his face in an instant while you took in another deep breath. He still has not let go of your hand. He has been meeting you once every week despite his busy schedule, despite having the world at his fingertips. He has decided to give you time when he could have easily dragged you out of your parent’s refuge and taken away your freedom. But he did not; he showed kindness. There must be a reason for that. Your husband, your almost ex-husband, does not do anything without thinking it through, without any ulterior motive.

“I — I can’t forgive you, for what you did— even if I wanted to. Even if my heart really wants to.” Now that is a lie you have been telling yourself for a week so that you could say it to his face. You stammer— you fail to say in a steady manner because there was this one time when he was not at par with what you were saying and so, he hit you. He hit you because he was not in his senses, he hit you because he was angry at others, he hit you because alcohol was in his body; if he were in his senses he would not have thought of hurting you, not even in his worst nightmares or so he claims. It was just one time, started with a slap on your cheeks amidst a party full of guests and now you two were sitting on a restaurant chair opposite to each other— so close yet light years away from each other. But when you decided to take a break, he let you. When you would finally tell him that you had decided to walk out of this marriage would he let you do that too?

Were you being dramatic? Were you overreacting? Were you being an utter fool to lose all the wealth and status that come with being the wife of an upcoming prominent minister? if that is the case, then so be it. You have let him spread his wings, and grow his claws so much that it ended up hurting you. No more. Before coming here you have rehearsed what to say and what not to say, still, your heart wavered when you had a chance to flee from his clutches. This was supposed to be the last day, the last meeting with him instead you promised more. Why was that? Just because a random stranger thought you two had the charm of a new couple. You have rehearsed so many times saying, ‘I want a divorce’ but now seeing his earnest eyes, his voluntary kindness; an unknown emotion kept creeping upon your shoulders. Was it fear?

“It’s okay.” It really isn't. He beams. “Take as much time as you need. I can wait.” Liar.Liar.Liar. Married life with him was like a black blob among the whites of the wedding. And now you had to go back to him, living every day as a pitch-black nightmare.

part two ┊summary: Ran starts to gather pieces of his puzzle even barely has any piece of it, he could see a glimpse of the final picture. He has never been taught not to play with his food when he was a child and he never did unless the food feels stale and tasteless on his tongue. word count — 2,6k┊

The moment Ran entered the bar, his eyes spotted Hanma sitting on one of the stools near the counter. Hanma sits on that spot every time he has to meet him yet expects Ran to wander around like a lost child amongst those neon lights, perhaps call and ask him, “Where exactly are you?” in a warry distraught tone just so that he can answer with, “In your heart, sweetheart.” But that is only possible if Hanma hears the same music as him. They met at college together. Ran does not really have many friends but Hanma cuts out from the rest. While Rindou was his victim of everything, Hanma was his partner in crime. he was his batchmate. During the graduation ceremony, they had to dance together due to a dare and since then, Hanma never stopped calling Ran ‘Sweetheart’ Heck, he even saved his number with a heart sign right beside: sweetheart ♥️. As for Ran, if he is in high spirits, he would definitely return the favor by calling Hanma, “Shu~” But it is a rare occasion.

This was no such occasion. Ran tastes the gut-wrenching bitterness of the drink as he takes the seat beside Hanma. “Everything ‘kay? You look …uhm disturbed.” Ran does not answer him. His mind is stuck on that guy who was too much of a show-off for a person who agreed to go on a blind date. He tried to remember him since he was sure he had seen him somewhere. Hanma ducks his head sideways to meet his eye. Ran scoffs but with that handsome face of his, it is not pinnable. “Anything new? Or do I have to listen to some relationship bullshit?” He finally responds.

“NAH! Not today. But there is an opening in London. We could launch a restaurant together. My agent called me this morning so I wanted to let you know.”

“And, you couldn’t have done that on the phone? Or in text or email?” The annoyance was too prominent to ignore. Hanma took the last sip of his drink and quipped, “Just missed you, sweetheart.” leaving for the dance floor. Ran takes his time playing with the drink, letting all the ice melt and the drink comes at room temperature by taking slow sips. He notices a girl staring at him. He stares back for a while. She did not budge. He turned around and raised his hand. “Give me a napkin please.” He writes a number, waves the napkin at the girl who is now getting her neck bruised by another girl, and tucks it under his empty glass eyeing the waiter. Filtering through the crowd, he walks up to the door and texts his brother. The wave of cold breeze soothes his muscles.

Expect a call soon, dear brother.

He has done this so many times to Rindou yet he falls for it, every damn time. It fazes him how Rindou is doing as a lawyer. He concludes that he must be doing good since he does not have to take care of his ass like he used to do during childhood. Not every weekend he meets Hanma. On such days when he does not meet his Shu, he goes to the bar, drinks a few strong shots, and instead of Rindou’s, he writes his number. But he never takes them to his home. Either Ran goes to their house, or it's just the bathroom of the bar or Hanma’s house. He is now walking towards the main road, scouring through his memories to pick even the littlest of that guy. There is a name at the tip of his tongue so he takes his chances by looking it up online. Bingo. He knows the guy. Taiju Shiba. He scrolls through his feed casually, locks his phone, and slips it inside his slacks, heaving a deep breath and preparing himself for the hardest part of his every single weekend. The walk from the bar back to his restaurant, that is, to his home is full of loneliness. So, he takes a different route to his home.

There is a black cat at the back door of his restaurant. Sometimes he goes there just to feed it. Sometimes he does not. Even though he tried not to be a regular presence in its life, that stray cat has grown attached to him. After meeting Hanma on most weekends, he takes a detour. He likes the cold and silence of the night. And, just after crossing the back door of his restaurant, he is followed by that same stray cat. He could have named it but he did not want to grow attached to it. It thrills him that the cat has grown attached to him. He takes a puff of tobacco as he finally stands on the front side of his restaurant at the other end near the lamp post. He could have gone straight home from the bar without taking the detour but he does not since Ran has nothing much to do as he reaches his home. No one to see, no one to talk to. So, he takes the detour, to kill some time.

He spots you, your blue dress peeking from under the winter wear. You were waving at the guy before he left you all alone. What an asshole! He does not get much time to see your face properly, to weigh your beauty since as soon as your almost ex-husband left in the car you stumbled upon your heels. Somehow you managed to balance yourself but the opposite side of the road started to become blurred. One blink and the man smoking on the opposite side of the road became almost invisible. The second blink and the man was walking towards you, perhaps with the intention of helping you. Was your weakness that spottable? You jerked your head roughly sideways in hopes of getting a clear view. And it did come to you: a clear view of the man who was tugging at your elbows to keep you steady. “Are you okay?” Ran asked, barely holding you. He really does not want to touch you, he really does not but with your unstable stance he was left with no other choice. You might be getting a panic attack or your blood pressure might be dropping. He does not know which it is, or which one he should take precautions for.

“Hey. Hey. Focus on me. Focus on my voice.” He repeats, unable to balance you properly. Finally, he gives up. Ran sees your mouth wide open, gasping for air and one of his arms clung by your waist while the other cups your face firmly. He quickly takes out one of the toffees from his pocket that he bought from a slum boy while walking back to his restaurant and slips it into your mouth. Your hands desperately clutch onto the collar of his trenchcoat as you feel something sweet and fruity melting at the center of your tongue. You hold on to that: his collar and that sugar rush in your bloodstream and the strong musky cologne mixed with the aroma of tobacco. Your nostrils did not fail to pick up the mint-flavored breath as he spoke. It makes your senses more awake than the candy.“Are you okay now? Can you go home al—”

Ran Haitani did not get the chance to finish his sentence since you pushed him rushing to the nearest lamp post and finally threw up. You have not had any food, not even a bite, and no wine either. It was just bile you threw up and a red colored button which must be the toffee that the stranger gave you. Right, the stranger who saved you from falling. The moment you turned your head you noticed a white handkerchief in front of your face. Your gaze shot up trying to see the face of this stranger. Hair slicked back with a side particularly bleached with purple streaks in bits, hooded attentive eyes, thin lips. When you did not take the handkerchief, busy gauging his behavior, he crouched down, coming to your level. Now you two were looking eye to eye. Your pupils flared up as the handkerchief was slowly starting to move toward your jaw. Taking the handkerchief in a snatch you stood upright, walking in the opposite direction to him. He should not have saved you, he should have let you rot at the corner of the footpath. He is such a genuinely kind person. He would get hurt if he gets involved with you. That is what happened to every man who came near you after you moved out from your husband's house. So, it is best if you just brush it off. . .

“You should eat something before going home.” Shit! He noticed. You started to walk again hoping he would not follow you or bother you, thinking ignoring might be the best option and you were right. However, his bulky voice turned up again, louder this time. “I’d like my handkerchief back, girl.” Your ears heated up as you turned around. Ran has not moved from the lamp post, not one bit. He still had his hands shoved inside his slacks with his eyes transfixed on you. The aftertaste of the vomit was still lingering at the back of your throat. All you wanted to do was to go home, hit the bed, and wallow in sadness for the grave mistake you committed today; if only this man left you alone. . . Sighing heavily you finally broke your silence. “I’m really sorry. I just had a really bad day today. And instead of thanking you for your help, here I am. Ignoring you. I’ll return your handkerchief after cleaning it. So, would it be okay if I ask for your address?” When you waved your hand out of the wool serape to get a hold of your purse, your heart stopped doing its work. You rushed towards the same restaurant again, ran through that lonely corridor, and entered the dining lounge with an abrupt swing of the glass door. Seeing your purse intact on the table, the cogs of your heart were alive again. Had it been not there, your world would have surely capsized. Your oh-so-small, little world that was devoid of any trace of him.

As you turned on your heel, you came face to face with that man again. He walked towards you steadily and paused when you backed away. His lips went flat. “Please. Have something before you go. I'm. . . just worried about you.” You nod and look around for a seat only to find most of them being empty, just the staff doing the closing chores. Ran walked past you dragging a chair from the nearest table. “What do you have in mind?” He asks as you sit, adjusting the frills of your dress. Stunned by his display of dominance you blurt out, “But isn't it the closing hours?” Ran licks his bottom lip, holding his laugh. He thinks it would be really rude to let it out. His hand is on the back of the chair, inches away from your bare back. He could touch you, just to assure you that it's okay, it's gonna be fine but he really does not want you to know that he is the one who owns the restaurant, that he is the one who is the anonymous buyer of the meal you had with that handsome guy. You do not need to know. The less you know about him, the safer you are.

“Oh yeah?” He looks around as if he is just another customer, not the owner. “Then, I'll go talk to them. Meanwhile, why don't you go and freshen up a bit? I'm sure they will help you.” Though unconvinced you hit the washroom. The cold water on your skin felt refreshing. Just when you were about to wipe your face with a napkin, your eyes landed on his handkerchief. R.Haitani was stitched in a cursive form. The back of the stitch was a little loose to call it professional. Either it was done by an elderly person or gifted by his mother, which might also be the reason why he asked back for it. There is no chance of this being a handiwork of young hands. You clicked your tongue to think in that direction. So, what if he has someone who could give him this? It does not change the fact that you were still an insect in the web of your husband begging for his mercy.

Ran was sitting, talking to the phone as you walked towards him. There was a glass of strawberry shake, and two chocolate cupcakes each garnished with chocolate ice cream. They looked delicious. Your flabbergasted glance fell on him. His teeth-flashing smile washed all your misery in an instant. “Eat. Eat slowly, please,” he remarked leaning into the table keeping his elbows on the table to balance his face on his palm. With enthusiasm and hunger sparkling in your eyes you enquired, “How did you even make them agree to this, Mr. Haitani?” Ah! If only she knew. . .

“Ran. Just call me Ran.” He added watching you eat. He is not at all surprised that you noticed his last name on his handkerchief. It is expected from a girl like you, from a wife of an upcoming minister, witty and curious. Whatever little free time he got after meeting Hanma at a nearby cafe, he kept thinking about why the face of the guy from his restaurant seemed so familiar. When a name popped up in his head, it was not hard to find out more about you. Just a few taps at most of his recent photos in the tagged section were only about you. He did not take any interest in other things like bio, posts, or photos that did not include you. His only interest was you, like a spotlight on a stage for a solo performer.

While your eyes were on him, his eyes were occasionally meeting yours. “I just asked what sweets they can serve at this hour. And since I paid for them in advance they seemed to agree easily. Plus, they have a lot of chores to do so . . .” He is so persuasive and involuntarily kind. Not only did he make you eat but also managed to convince the staff to work during closing hours. You finally smiled at him. “So, Ran . . . do you mind sharing your number? I would pay the bill for my meal as well as return your handkerchief.” Bingo. Just what he calculated. Even though Ran wanted to ask about your date, tell you about his anonymous help, and see your reaction, something held him back from doing so, a hope, a good deed. He did not have to since you were going to meet him soon, and this time he will be careful not to be so casual, this time he will be prepared.

“Ah. Okay.” He replies keeping up his neutral tone and being careful to hide his excitement just like tucking a child in bed. While saving his number on your phone you received a message from your husband, Taiju. “Did you reach home? It's been an hour. You should have been home. Where are you?” There is no point in lying. He is going to find out about this one way or another yet you did. You lied.

Yeah. Just freshened up. Going to bed. Your phone vibrates again. It is him, again.

“Anything bad?” Ran asks, seeing your face go pale in an instant.

“Nope. nothing bad.” You shoot him a smile, keeping your phone away and concentrating on the food.

The message read: Let me know when we can meet again. . . or you can move in again. If you'd like. You can respond to him later. Right now, you need to eat so that you can go home before anyone spots you and endangers both of your lives.

part three ┊summary: Ran's heart starts to unwind, starts to overlook all the possibilities of obstacles he might face to have you. With his heart in a bind, he starts to seek ways to connect, ways to have you, see you, taste you, feel you. word count — 1,6k┊

“If you’d like.” If you’d like. It has already been Friday and you did not reply back to your husband. Tomorrow morning, you would have to be ready by 11 o’clock in the morning to be present at the party hosted by the current minister, the current family head, Shiba Taiju’s father. You would have bailed on it, but along with numerous prominent guests from his political circle, your parents are gonna be present there too. It is for the sake of your parents that prevented you from seeking a divorce from that hypocritical bastard. With a divorce, you would surely gain your freedom but would definitely lose your parents either by death or by them disowning you. The former was more plausible than the latter. And, inviting your parents is nothing but a masking agent for the deadly chemical reaction that could happen if any of you managed to cross the boundaries set by your husband, Taiju. Moreover, your husband was making sure that you do not get a chance to bail from this party and embarrass his family in front of the press and all these prying eyes that are waiting for an opportunity to stain his reputation of a few months of service to mankind. Still, when he got busier you excused yourself by conveying that you needed to be somewhere else, a place that would soothe your nerves yet would not have his skeptical eyes on you as you leave. Perhaps, a doctor’s visit.

The moment you reached the lower next floor you heaved a sigh of relief. Any place would be better than by your husband’s side. This floor was occupied by less number of people but they were clustered in batches, here and there. It was an art exhibition. Maybe all the wheels of fortune were not against you after all. It surely would not hurt if you spent a few minutes before going home. The doctor’s prescription can easily be obtained. With brimming tension in your mind, you walked into the hall full of paintings and sculptures. You walked around the hall looking at the paintings, trying to understand as much of them as you could get. But there were myriads of unspoken lines that touched you and you made a hollow attempt to seek comfort.

There was a sculpture in the middle of the hall. A girl and a wolf. The wolf is laying its head on her lap while she is patting it— at least that is what it looked like. She is crying but then again she is not. The wolf seems to be sleeping but then again, it is not. The whole sculpture was of pure white with such fine ridges and grooves. The one thing that surprised you the most was that one of her legs had a chain that was tied to a pillar. Somehow it defies the laws of nature— it is the beast who needs to be chained, not the master. For it can cast his beastly shadow upon others. But, a beast is never a beast until we, the mortals or humans, label it as such. Humans have always been afraid of things they can not control and thereby ended up chaining those creatures that did not fit the shallow realm of reason. But to think a beast would empathize with humans when they were punished, chained, or banished is nothing but a mirage.

Your phone rings. . .

You let out a short-lived gasp as you fidget with your bag to find the phone. Was it him? Your husband? Scratch that; people were already starting to stare. And of course, why would they not? Only a moron would forget to keep their phone on silent before entering here. Ran almost felt bad seeing you like this, clueless and messy— like a creature being hunted, but the hope of hearing your voice seemed to overpower his thoughts; before they could bundle into something that he would regret later—like hanging up the phone and leaving without saying Hi you received the call.

“Hello,”

“Hi, this is Ran Haitani. I’m sorry to disturb you but I would— uhmm like my handkerchief back if — like maybe you can make some time — tomorrow perhaps?” Great. Just Great. He really did not ask you to meet out of the blue and that too for such a trifle reason. Truth be told, Ran just missed you. He knows he is incapable of love, or any sort of heavy emotional attachment. But it really boggled his senses when you kept lingering in his mind. He was missing you. And this blabber just proved it.

You get out of the hall away from those glares. And that was when it all began: the fireworks of emotions. There were so many colors that you could barely recognize. Not even an artist could. Not because of the blending but because of the pace. Any sane mind would be jumbled up with all the adrenalin rush through your veins. Ran Haitani was standing at the door leaning against the wall, holding his phone by his ear fidgeting with the ring on his index finger with his thumb.

“Well, this is awkward.” He turns, slipping his phone into his slacks. So did you. Awkward? More like a prayer. Ran thinks about how he can explain his situation. It is not like he was following you but silence can weave more lies than truths. He was aware of that more than anyone. “I’m just here for the —

“The handkerchief?”

“Ugh. no-no. I mean yes.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, scrunching it a little, and licks his lips. “I’m sorry. It’s just that, it's important to me.”

“How much?” You asked, seeing his face turn pale. He did not expect that. Could it have been you lost it? It is really annoying how Ran feels his blood boil for a mere piece of cloth but not for the dear ones in his life. Are they important? Sure. but then why is he so attached to the things that had not mattered to anyone else, had not mattered to you? “How much was the bill?” You prompt again.

Ran raises his eyebrow. Slightly; barely visible. Tilting his face barely trying to hold his remorse within himself for misunderstanding you. He clicks his tongue. “I told you. It’s fine. You don’t need to pay.” followed by a heart-warming smile.

“Please. Let me. It would bother me later. And I’ll meet you tomorrow — with the handkerchief. I’ll text you the address.” You insisted on going through the contact list, ready to leave this place before you cause trouble. Seeing your earnest plea, he caved in but not in the straight route that you wanted it to be.

“How about a walk in the art gallery? That would square it.” Ran exclaims as his eyes meet yours momentarily. Your eyebrows grew closer due to confusion. “The bill.” He supplied with a quirky smile pushing your cloud of confusion. It would not hurt in any manner. You did not have much to do when you go home. So, spending some time with him would not hurt, really.

Ran walked by your side as you two walked past the paintings. It did not feel familiar like you expected. You have already walked through these panels of colorful thoughts before but all seemed so unfamiliar. Perhaps it was because of Ran talking. He is quite distracting. He told you that he is here with his brother. His brother was invited as one of the chief guests. He also mentioned that he is going out of town for the next few days which is why he was in a hurry to get that damned handkerchief back. Even though you had a chance of getting caught you did not feel any danger lingering around you. Yeah, him. It is definitely him who keeps you distracted enough not to feel unsafe.

You were just about to ask him where he would be going. But Ran stopped walking, abruptly. He was now looking at a seven to eight-foot-tall acrylic knife painting. It was an erotic painting. The girl was standing, with her head arched and hands gripping the edge of some sort of table, and the guy was seated at her knees with his hands clamped around her thighs. He had a knife in his pocket. There is a door at the corner of the painting and a feeble shadow can be visible. Even with that, you could tell that shadow belonged to a girl. It is a pretty basic painting you think except for the colors used in it. You think it is the color that makes this painting so catchy. The signature was K.Hajime in a beautiful cursive style. When you turn to look at Ran, he is already looking at you with amethyst eagle eyes. “What—”

Ran sways his head forward and starts to walk again. He says he knows the artist which is why he was a little shocked to see that his friend was capable of drawing something like that. Erotism was never his niche. He said. What he did not tell you is how much the girl in the painting has a resemblance to you. How could you not see that? It is a good thing that your mind was heavy with other things to see through him. For a moment, Ran almost thought that you knew this friend of his but if he really did, Ran had greater chances of running into you. He would have liked that, perhaps.

After you left for home, he thought of buying the painting. It would hurt him but connecting to an old friend would put a lid on the jar full of scars. It already hurts unable to fathom why he is so drawn to you, why is it that he cannot mask his true self around you? He is slipping through the cracks and maybe he cannot fix it, not anymore. He has been wanting to set free for a while now. Maybe it is time.

part four. ┊summary: There is a jinx that Ran heard when he was eight years old, from his nanny. "You lose the people with whom you share your handkerchief." Now, he is not much of a superstitious person but when he saw his favorite handkerchief in the fist of his father who was intimately clung by his mother in the newspaper picture, he started to believe; he started to experiment word count —1,1k┊

Another week. Another futile attempt to get rid of his gnawing paws off you, another day full of dread, devoid of hope and warmth. You were checking your phone every ten minutes. You neither messaged nor called Taiju; you could not— something else was occupying your mind. Maybe it would be different if he got a second chance, maybe you could have a happy married life if you could make him repent by making him wait and ticking off his patience. How long a tortoise lives till it begs for death? The sudden whiff of strong spicy cologne brought you back to reality from your reverie of thoughts.

“I — Ran dragged his chair swiftly while his other hand went to his coat to unbutton it. He looks at you, blessing you with his signature warm smile. It is perfect— not too much, not too little. He flicks his vest coat before taking a seat. “— apologize for being late. I met someone on my way here.” He, infact, did and he did not .

You checked your phone again. Thirty minutes left before Taiju comes. “I hope. . .” he pauses, seeing you rub your palms and drink water again. He has been watching you from the window of the building in the opposite wing. It is funny to him how you asked him to meet him in one of his restaurants. Maybe he has a connection with you, or an effect of connection or a result of an action. He does not know which it is. “I hope your health is okay now. Did you see a doctor?” He throws a question to divert your attention.

“A doctor? Ah! Yes.” You respond but he does not seem too convinced by your answer. You slide a small paper bag that has an envelope and his handkerchief. He bites the inner flesh of his bottom lip thinking how precise and neat you are about everything. The dress you are wearing has a floral pattern with a long overcoat and a matching hat. The hat is tucked on the backrest of the chair over your long overcoat. There is not much jewelry on you except a simple gold nose pin. You look like an angel with your hair flowing down to your waist. Part of him wants to believe that you dressed up just for him, but another part knows that this is your style: minimal and elegant . And now that he is here, he knows why are you so dressed up. Why are you so anxious? It must be the other man, the one he saw on that lazy evening dining with you where he first spotted you.

“Ah. thank you for giving this back.” He chimes as he takes out the handkerchief out of the bag. “I don’t need the envelope.” He looks up at you while your eyes are set on the opposite side of the street,in the pavement where you spot your husband walking with a bunch of Chanel and Gucci shopping bags. Your throat dries as you try to speak up. “Umh. . . I would have loved to spend some time with you but I'm meeting someone. So, please excuse me.” You leave your seat but do not forget about taking the coat and the hat in such a tense, hurried, and horrid situation. Something tells him that you are accustomed to it or just very nitpicky about time or perhaps too eager to meet this man but that is clearly not the case here. You stroll out of the restaurant meeting your husband at the doorstep.

“Woah, woah slow down babe. Where are you going?” Taiju asks, gripping your arm. You are still in the maze of guilt for walking out on Ran like that. He does not deserve such kind of rudeness, whatever the bind you are in. You gulp thinking if he has spotted you with him while crossing the street but judging his soft hold on you, his tender voice, and hopeful smile he is not aware of Ran, not yet.

“You’re early.” Your voice is barely a whisper. He smiles thinking you must be surprised but you are not. It is the fear that makes you whisper. “I think I was waiting at the wrong restaurant.” You swallow your fear feeling nauseous due to his long-lasting grip on your arms. “That’s why I was hurrying to the restaurant we were supposed to meet.” His hand caresses your face. He seems to be satisfied with your explanation. His hand slides from your face to your palm as he takes you to the supposed restaurant.

The meeting went well. He seemed like a different person. He had no clue what was happening around him as you remained seated in front of Taiju, all dolled up and pretty. If he had, he would have gauged out Ran’s eyes. Even though your eyes were fixed on your husband, you could feel Ran’s intact stare on you. You were surprised when he walked into the same restaurant and sat diagonally to you two tables away from yours. Maybe he was meeting someone too, a friend or someone dearer than a friend but nothing really happened. He sat and enjoyed his whiskey. Whenever you sneaked glances towards him you would find him checking his tablet but as soon as your eyes were back on your husband, Ran’s amethyst eyes were back on you. You could feel it. You were sure of it. His constant attention was bugging you so much that you excused yourself for a bathroom break. Whatever happened next not only turned your life upside down but created all sorts of chain reactions in your soul: guilt, betrayal, sadness, longing, and anger.

Guilt because of your betrayal towards yourself, lying to yourself to keep up the smile on the faces of your dear ones around you at the cost of yours.

Sadness because Ran looked at you with so much pity, with so much empathy it made you long for him, for yourself that you were trying so hard to suppress just to get along with the man you took vows with. It felt wrong in so many ways when he kept staring at you with such earnest eyes as if it would spill any moment. And if it did, it would be all because of you .

Anger because even if you craved to be saved, even if you could ask him. . .Ran is not the kind of man who likes to play the hero for a damsel in distress, let alone do it for someone who already has ties with another man. He is the type to watch, observe, and serve, to be the least mobile pawn in a board game of chess waiting to pounce on the queen when everyone has already died fighting for jewels and other silly stakes. What other choice does the queen have to survive than to surrender, to be freed from pretense? It is a pity, really.

part five. ┊ summary: It has been almost half of another month since his last encounter with you. Ran has thought of his second encounter with you way too many times that it lies heavy on his eyelids, on his fingertips, creating goosebumps on his skin. It tingles his soul. He replays that particular memory in a loop until he gets drunk on it, until he gets what he is promised. word count —0.7k┊

“I knew you would follow me here,” you stated, closing the tap, and dabbing your hands with your handkerchief. Ran stood at the common corridor that parts at the end into two washrooms. His eyes scanned you from head to toe and then toe to your head — but it got stuck on your palms, on your fingers. They looked soft and lonely. You did not know what his deal was, what he wanted to say, why he was here, and why he followed you up here. You tug on your wedding ring as he parted his lips for something to say. He didn't really look you in the eye. He never does; he just looks somewhere else in your face, always. Ran does not remember seeing a ring on your finger when he first met you. He does not remember when he met you at his restaurant this morning, not even when he met you at the art exhibition. He does not remember seeing those posts on your husband’s social media. It does not take him much to do the math. He is a clever man.

Panic attack. Regular meetings. Expensive gifts. Fear and silence. Secrets and Sympathies. A sorry attempt for reconciliation with your husband . Most men would back away from you being in his position, especially knowing what kind of man your husband is and more importantly, who he is.

You tuck your hair behind your ear giving him a proper glimpse of your ring. Yeah, that should do the trick, that should make him run away from you and he would be safe. He does not deserve the cloud of ill-fate that you carry with you. It is yours, only yours to carry.

Ran walks towards you closing the gap. You think he is going to walk past you into the washroom unable to process all of these at once. You think you have scared and hurt him enough for a stranger. His expressions are not hard to miss. Was he really hoping for something? Why is that? “what’re you doing?” he coaxed, standing close to you looking you in the eye with his hands hanging outside his pockets. There is so much sincerity in his sadness that it almost makes you cry, you want to but you do not know why you would cry for him.

“What do you mean?” Your voice was like a prayer to him. Ran takes a few steps forward towards you but you step back. He pauses as you back away. His eyes are so full of questions. Hence, he pursues those. He keeps taking steps one after another until he has your back on the wall.

“What are you doing to me?”He uttered, keeping his hand against your ears, on the wall. You suck in a breath and do not release it. You can not. You can not since he seems too fragile even to withstand your breath. Ran clings towards you as you keep your palm over his chest. While you remember the night you met him, he takes the liberty to lean his head towards the crook of your shoulder. You close your eyes, unable to keep up with his proximity. You hear him opening his mouth, and the ‘pop’ sound of his lips seems too loud as if he has been silent for way too long.

“I’m doing my best to keep myself safe,” you whisper feeling his lips graze your neck or was it your imagination? You could not tell. Ran chuckles at that tickling you. You curl your head; ‘And you.’ you think. You feel him retreat since the strong spicy aroma wears off. When you open your eyes you find no one, not a single soul on the end of the corridor. You rushed into the washroom again, tears washed over your eye-banks and a prayer escaped your pitiful curved lips.

Now he goes to his restaurant where he first met you every weekend, waiting for another chance to get a glimpse of you. “I’m doing my best to keep myself safe.” He uttered to himself scanning the next customer who walked into his restaurant. It rings in his ears. There is a promise in the way you said it.

part six. ┊ summary ~ to be updated soon.

───❪ NOTES❫ ⋮ read on ao3.

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dividers by @benkeibear. banner art by me. for better quality you need to view the image seperately.

This is for my beloved dawnie. @lalunanymph . ( kindly check her rules if you wish to read her works. )

Dawn baby, I have read your works when I'm happy, when I'm sad, when I'm angry, and whenever I missed you. I have kept coming back to read your works, again and again, especially during my exam season. And one day I reaslized that you and your writing has become an integral part of my Tumblr. Not only that, it has also shaped my writing and reading experience. Needless to say dawnie baby that I admire you a lot. So, this is a little gift from me to you for creating such a brilliantly bright trajectory in my writing journey. Tokyo Revengers has always been my staple fandom. Even being a multifandom blog it is the tokyo revengers’ masterlists which is most stacked. At first I thought I should write on Kakucho for you but didn't feel confident about it so I went with Ran Haitani. This is probably the third long fic on him and second series work. I don't generally write on my favs because I don't know what to write and how to write. It is always a struggle but I hope this scratches the right parts of your brain. Take your time, read it in a one fine afternoon all of a sudden or somewhere in next million years. I'm not in rush :’))

Love you,

paradis.

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angelsworks · 1 year

Text

No where to Hyde 4 Dark!Tyler Galpin x reader

Previous part -> Here

Masterlist -> Here

Type: series

Summary: Unknowingly you complete the bond with the Hyde.

Warnings: 18+ only, mature, pure smut, fingering(fem receiving), oral (fem receiving), penetrative sex, slight dun con, yandere themes, dark themes

You hands ghosted over Tyler’s chest. After cleaning the scratches with antiseptic wipes, you started sticking butterfly stitches along the cuts. All the while Tyler watches you, as you gingerly acted as his nurse.

Your cheeks warmed when Tyler insisted you cleaned his wounds in his room. His father wasn’t home, but if he did come back Tyler was convinced you’d get in trouble. One for breaking curfew and two for being at his house. The thought of getting in trouble with principle Weems was enough for you to agree quickly.

They warmed a second time when he removed his shirt. You sat next to him on his bed, or more over him. You sat on your knees with your thighs spread as you reached over to work on him.

For the duration of your work you kept your eyes downcast. Avoiding making eye contact with Tyler. You knew that if you did you’d start to feel hot again. The wrong sort of hot.

It was hard though as you felt his gaze on you. It felt piercing on your skin. So piercing in fact, you toyed with the idea of getting the bandages ready for yourself.

You placed the last butterfly stitch on his chest, rubbing it over with your thumb.

“I think I’m done,” you told him as you rubbed over the rest of his stitches. “How does it feel?”

He swallowed, “it feels good. I’m lucky I had you to play nurse.”

You snickered, “Well I kind of had to when you said you didn’t want to go to the hospital.”

You moved off the bed. Packing all the supplies you’d used back into the green box. Tyler stood as well. He buttoned his flannel up half way.

You closed the first aid kit, pausing. “I should probably get back to Nevermore.”

Tyler had to stop himself. He needed to be careful how he phrased his next few words. Of course he didn’t want you to go. This was a good an opportunity as ever for him to make his move. But he needed to appear flippant about the situation. He needed to bring up you staying offhandedly, not desperately.

“It’s a bit late, I’m sure you’re roommate would notice you coming back at this time.” He mentioned. Walking down the stairs with you to put the first aid kit back.

“I don’t actually have a roommate, so I’m all good there.” You didn’t want to overstay you’re welcome, yet there was something tickling underneath your skin. Something that had started since you’d been alone with the Hyde. For the time you were touching Tyler it went away, almost. It felt nice, like a the warm sun. When you stopped touching him it felt like an itch, a burn.

You got to the kitchen, handing the box to Tyler so he could reach up and put it away.

“Well my dad could be back any minute, he’d see my car was gone and wonder where I was.”

You thought it over, you didn’t want Tyler to get in trouble.

“It sounds like you want me to stay.” You teased.

Tyler’s eyes moved to yours, his tongue darting across his lips. “And if I did?”

He reached a hand around you, trapping you against the counter. You face felt hot again and you stumbled to find the right words. His face got closer to yours. You could feel his breath against your cheek.

“I don’t have anything to wear here, so I can’t stay.”

Tyler pulled back, letting out a laugh. He held back from suggesting you sleep nude. Instead he got you two a glass of water each and started going back upstairs.

“But Tyler,” you called, almost having to jog to keep up with him. “I need something to wear.”

When the two of you got back to his room he put the glasses down then moved to his dresser. He searched the drawers for a minute then pulled out a T-shirt. An old one. One he knew was too small for him. He’s been meaning to get rid of it, now he was glad he hadn’t. He was hoping it would be small on you too.

“But, what about bottoms?”

In response he pulled out a pair of his boxer shorts. Unhappy with the situation, but unable to change it, you took them off him begrudgingly.

Tyler told you were the bathroom was and you went to change. You washed your face with water and used your fingers to comb through your hair.

You changed into the clothes he had given you. Finding that the shirt hugged your figure and came to your mid thigh. So you decided against wearing the boxers and kept your panties on.

Thoughts of the Hyde were frequent in your mind before. Now they seemed never ending. The main thought that consumed you was the Hydes sense of smell. If it could find you in the middle of the woods, it could certainly find you here. Only this time it could do worse than a few scratches.

You felt incredibly guilty for Tyler’s injury. You’d reasoned with yourself that it was your fault he was hurt. The beast had followed you and in the process Tyler had been hurt.

While you didn’t want to go and be some sort of sex doll for this Hyde, your mother was right. It came down to duty at the end of the day. If the Hyde stopped hurting people that was good. If you were the one needed to be sacrificed then so be it.

You would do it, you finalised. You’d do it to save your friends, Nevermore, the town and Tyler. No one deserved to be hurt if you could put a stop to the terror.

You didn’t realise you’d started to cry. You wiped your eyes and left the bathroom. Hoping to just go to sleep.

The lighting was dim, due to the small lamp tyler had put on instead of his main light. The lighting was calming and gave you more of a chance to hide your face.

“Hey so I was thinking that for tonight we shared - oh, what’s wrong?”

He’d seen your face. A few stray tears running down it with your eyes puffy and red.

You shrugged, “it’s nothing”.

He raised and eyebrow, suggesting he didn’t believe your obvious lie.

You sighed and moved to sit on the bed. He did too. He angled himself to sit against the headboard. Finding it easier to see pull you in to him from there.

You cried into his shoulder. You cried for your lost life. Lost future romances, lost first kissed, lost first time.

Without looking at Tyler you start to explain. You told him about your blood heritage and what it means. You tell him about the book and the hidden pages. You tell him about how the Hyde is attracted to your scent and it’s your duty to stop it.

He stroked your hair, comforting you as you faced his chest. He smiled to himself at the irony of it all. Here you were crying to him, the Hyde, about having to have sex with the Hyde.

It all seemed too good to be true. In your emotional state it would be easy to persuade you into doing anything, even letting him fuck you. Making it seem like one last time before committing yourself to the Hyde for the rest of your life, would be a good idea.

“What happens if you have sex before that?”

The air changed. It dawned on you now if it didn’t before, that you were alone with Tyler, in his bed, in his shirt, and in your panties. Tyler himself was wearing a different shirt and sweatpants.

You swallowed, “I don’t think it changed things. The Hyde will still want me.”

“So it won’t matter if you do or don’t.”

You sighed listening to the beat of Tyler’s heart, “No I suppose it won’t”

His hand came down from your back to the curve of your ass, just above where the shirt had ridden. His hand stroked your cheek, hand dancing along the hem of the shirt.

“Well then it won’t matter if we-”, he didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t need to. The offer if you accepted it meant nothing. It would be one night before an eternity with someone else.

You moved to straddle his lap. Your hands on his sides, eyes looking at the faded design on his shirt.

“I’ve never,” he knew what you meant. He had, months ago. With some girl from school. It had happened once and the two never spoke of it again.

You felt hands cup the backs of your thighs, thumbs rubbing up and down your ass.

“It’s okay, just give yourself to me.”

The words seemed strange, but you did as he said. You let the tension from your shoulders dissipate as you relaxed into his touch.

His hands moved high, now under the shirt you wore. They stopped at your hips. You felt him moving you further up his lap. The gasp from your lips fell into a moan when his undeniable erection ground against your pantie covered core.

“Look at me baby”

The command brought your eyes up to his. Slowly, he made his lips met yours. Taking your breathe away in the kiss. It was passionate and slow. You’d definitely remember this as your first kiss.

Somewhere along the kisses, they become more desperate, faster and a little rougher. Your intoxicating scent was nothing compared to your taste. The Hyde he hid was pounding in his mind to get out.

You were flipped on to your back, with Tyler above you. He released you from the kiss so you could breath. But resumed as soon as he was sure you’d had the minimum amount of oxygen needed.

His hands found your hip once again. Now trailing up to your nipples. He rolled them in between his fingers causing you to let out the prettiest moan he’d ever heard.

Your borrowed T-shirt had been pushed up and was now just below your boobs. Leaving your panties on display to him. He continued toying with your nipple as one hand drifted to your panties.

You could feel his fingers running along the hem, making you whine at his teasing. He let out a breathy laugh. He couldn’t believe it. After all the planning in his head, it became obsolete. You handed yourself to him on a silver plate.

He let his index finger trail down the middle of your panties. Continuing their search for you bud. When the search was over he used his thumb to roll circles into your your clit, making you writher and try to buck your hips off the bed.

“Hey now, just relax. Stop moving”

And so you ceased to move. Making an effort to stay still, with your hips planted firmly into the mattress.

While his thumb rubbed your clit, he brought two fingers down to rub between your clothed clit. Feeling a wet patch start to form.

“Please,” you begged, unsure of what you wanted. “Please Tyler.”

“You sound so pretty begging for my touch. What do you want baby?”

You whined, not wanting to have to say anything. You wished he would pick up on your frustration and stop his teasing.

“Please Tyler, take them off.”

This time he listened. With your help he peeled your panties down from your crotch and off the ends of your toes. Before going back down he kissed you once more.

“You’re so pretty.” You cheeks warmed. Never having this sort of attention ever.

You felt his fingers trail down to your seeping hole, collecting some of the wet to spread around your lips. In the meantime he kept his thumb at your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves slow enough to make you cry.

His lips moved to kiss the inside of your thigh as his thumbs pace in your clit increased. You lost your breath, feeling light headed. Pleasure built at the back of your skull, starting to spread all over your body. Your stomach tightened with need.

You felt your orgasm approaching, but Tyler never stopped, instead he sucked hickies into existing along your inner thigh. He didn’t stop when you let out a porn worthy moan, or when your hips started bucking. He didn’t stop when you came on his bed or when your thighs started to shake.

Instead he moved his mouth over to your pussy. His tongue trailing up your slit to your clit. He used his thumb to pull back your hood, sweeping his tongue over your bundle of nerves, making you scream.

His finger found your hole as his tongue danced over your clit, licking and sucking as he went. He felt you squeeze against his finger as he pushed it in. It made his already hard cock, sore with need.

Your moaning never stopped. His touch brought stars to your vision. It made your head go light with ecstasy. You weren’t sure you’d be able to string a sentence together you were riding such a high.

Slowly he worked your hole, adding another finger to the mix. With the dual stimulation your next orgasm followed his work quickly. You tried to catch your breath as he pulled away.

He moved to kiss you again. Staring into your eyes. Unknowingly, you’d awoken something in Tyler. Something animalistic, that wasn’t going to stop now until you were his. He’s kissed you, tasted you, fingered you.

Now he planned to complete the bond.

Now he planned to fuck you.

“Tyler, that was. That was wow.” Words failed you. Still lightheaded and riding your high.

“That’s just the start.”

He pulled his T-shirt off and went to shrug off his sweatpants.

“Tyler wait, I’m not sure.”

No, you couldn’t pull out now.

“When are you going to have this chance again?”

You played with your hands. You knew he was right. You just wondered if in a haste to enjoy an experience that you were never going to enjoy again, you’d rushed into things.

“Have you liked it so far?”

Of course you had. Nothing he did compared to anything you’d done before.

You nodded.

“Just sit back and relax. You can trust me”

No you couldn’t. But he didn’t need you to know that.

Now completely naked he wrapped a hand around himself, slowly pumping his already hard and throbbing cock.

You could only stare in terror. He was well endowed, if that was the was to describe it. He was at least six inches with a couple more to spare. You were surprised at how hard he was, but undoubtedly turned on.

He moved to kneel on the bed above you. Gently he moved your legs apart and helped you to bend them at the knees. When he was satisfied he pushed two fingers in you once again. Working your hole. Curling them every other thrust to try and get your tight little pussy to relax.

With the way you were squeezing his fingers, he wasn’t sure he was going to last long.

He leaned over to kiss your forehead, whispering sweet nothings as he lined up with your entrance. Slowly pushing himself in. He captured your moan with a kiss. Now rocking in gradually, inch by inch.

Your eyes welled with tears. The pain fresh and sharp, getting duller with his every thrust.

“You okay?”

You nodded. He took it as his signal to start rocking faster. Relishing in the way your walls squeezed his cock. Each thrust he was able to put more power behind, getting faster.

Soon he was at a steadier pace. Your mouth open as moans flew out. His breathe laboured as he continued his thrusts. His thrusts started to pound as your walls relaxed further. By the way you were moaning he could tell you were close to your next orgasm. Begging him for something you didn’t know.

Your pussy fluttered around him, causing any self preservation to leave him as he let his own load coat your walls. Thrusts became sloppy, then finally stopping as he pulled out of you.

He kissed your head once more before collapsing next to you.

A sense of clarity filled his head. The Hyde no longer pounding to get out. He was the Hyde. There was no two sides of him anymore. It was just him, Tyler. No just the Hyde or just him. Now they were one.

And it was all thanks to you.

Taglist -> @moonmaiden1996 , @capricorn-anon, @respectmyprivacys-blog, @cometfrost18, @sahvlren, @nightfurya

#dark!tyler galpin x reader #dark #tyler galpin x reader #wednesday #yandere wednesday #angelsworks post #wednesday smut #tyler galpin smut

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teresalace · 6 months

Text

"I won't cry for you" - Yandere Tyler Galpin x Female Reader PART 3

•Part 1 •Part 2

Words: 1699

Warnings: Mentions of torture, psychology, dysfunction yet healthy family relations if you squint.

Show: Wednesday (2022)

Summary: You've graciously or stupidly, granted Tyler a phone to call his father for whatever reason he had while you went to call yours for assistance. And since you weren't fully knowledgeable about Hydes, you contacted the only person you knew, who wasn't in prison, that had that knowledge. Your father, Alvin Gates.

• •

🥺 Sorryyyy this took forever a lot of months, planned to post this at February but got sick and many stuff happened, preparing for an interview :--D but am back in my writing mojo!/kinda, HAPPY HALLOWEEN) AND I HEARD season 2 is coming omggg I'm excited

————

"Well, well, well~ If it isn't the sweet consequence of my actions with your mother." A voice unmistakably grouchy speaks, sounding jovial with every word out.

A quick glance to your locked bedroom door before you finally said a response into the cellphone.

"You sound well, father." You mildly greeted, a tinge of a smile in your voice. To think it's almost only been a month since the last call.

"Yeah yeah it's been a while but cut the chitchat, sweetie, what do you need helping with?" You could imagine an eyeroll as your father said, always cutting to the chase.

"About Hydes." You spared no other detail and maintained calm articulation. Not that you needed to be careful with him, thankfully.

For more precaution, it's better if not even your own father knows about Tyler being in the house. You didn't want things to get out of hand.

"Ah- what about them? Did something happen that isn't supposed to–" Suddenly silence overtook the line, a thoughtful humming until he spoke again. "Don't get yourself into any unfamiliar territory, kid. That's suppose to be your mother's speciality."

So he noticed, of course he did. Better leave that to his wandering imagination than spoil your plan. A very non-existent plan at the moment.

"I don't plan to. Father, I was just curious since I kept hearing about them." True, that wasn't a lie in the slightest. "I was wondering if you'd know anything about them."

Surely he must know something.

"Hmm, you heard it from someone, no doubt. . . Alright, alright. What do you want to know exactly, kid. I'll tell ya as much as I can afford to." Sounds like mother has been keeping tabs on him.

"Hydes obey only one master, their own, correct?" You continued when father hummed a helpful tune, "would it be possible to sever the ties between a Hyde and its master."

A pause in-between your father's breathing left you suspended.

"Well. . . Got bad news for you kid, I don't know any available methods for that." He sighed gruffy like he felt bad, "sorry but can't help you with the whole severing business. It's set in stone, pretty much."

"I see. . . " You massaged your temples, disappoinment rising inside you. But you couldn't just accept this answer easily, stubbornness seemed to take hold in your heart. For what reason? You couldn't figure out.

"However–" A hoarse chuckle emerged from your cellphone. "It's not entirely impossible to say there aren't other ways of solving that problem. I'm sure you can get some creative ideas from their origins, kid. Only one thing is set in stone, Hydes only serve one master."

Father's bold hint sparked a lightbulb in your head. Their origins.

In the first place, what caused Hydes to bond an undying loyalty to their masters was–

"Sorry for not being alot of help, kid, I'm out of time for the day. Take good care of yourself, will you."

"I will." A buzz of excitement slowly crept over you as an idea began running through your mind. "You were very helpful, dad, thanks. You take care too."

"Mm sounds like you found an answer eh?" He sounded genuinely happy, making you feel much more sturdy in this new plan.

"Not exactly but I should be on the right track." If Tyler would go along with it.

"Mm so you're going to try any attempts, I see. Hah– it's hilarious how similar you and your mother's thinking is!"

Again with the comparisons. You rolled your eyes, "Goodbye, father."

"Alright alright, see ya kiddo. For now." BEEP. BEEP.

The call was over already.

. . .

You turned off the burner phone, picking out the block of battery from the back and saving it in your other hiding space for another time. Now you should check on Tyler, you can't afford to trust him so easily especially when his father's a sheriff.

Quietly you went out of your bedroom, closing the door slowly so as to not make a sound. You headed down the stairs in a casual, fast pace to quickly see his state of mind.

But it's likely he isn't planning to screw himself over... Your assumption was most likely made correct when you came to see Tyler sitting slumped on the couch, his face buried deep in his hands.

Sweeping your gaze across the living room and floor, the burner phone you gave him was nowhere in sight… Mentally noting to check the trash bin by the kitchen before you stomped down the stairs and made yourself known.

Tyler's eyes peeked up first from the gaps in-between his fingers like the leafy venus flytraps back home ever so often tempting you to closer inspect. To place your finger in there, to feed.

He waited on your next move.

Your arms folded, hiding your hands twitching on their own for a tweezer. "Did you have a good talk?"

What else could you really say without sounding too interested in him.

"It was something…" Tyler did a small shrug, less energy than he's shown before, voice dulled by the cover of his fingers. "Could've gone better. I wish he didn't hang up so fast."

"What did you talk about?" Might as well see how much information he was willing to give.

A small sigh, Tyler slowly revealed half of his distraught face. "Not a lot. He wasn't interested in what I had to say… Told me to be careful." Strange of the dutiful sheriff to say but then again you didn't know what kind of father-son relationship they had.

"How are you feeling?" One of mother's favourite lines growing up that you've somehow adapted into your vocabulary. It seemed the most appropriate.

You continued watching Tyler's tensed form with a safe but short distance away, the coffee table acting as a possible shield in between you and him. Incase he raged.

But there was none.

There was something in his usual silence this time that irked you. Like he didn't fully trust you.

You approved of that, as he shouldn't. Mutually. Especially if things ever go wrong because of him, you were ready at a moment's notice to abandon everything to do with him.

"I… Hate him."

The pause went on for however many tensed seconds before Tyler's hands fell onto his knees.

"Sorry sorry, I know I shouldn't be saying this… I mean I can't say I don't miss him."

"You can say what you want. I don't mind," you said flatly, genuinely meaning it. His expressions stiff, he looked mentally pent up, thoughts practically steaming out from his ears.

"No, it's fine. You've done a lot for me already, I owe you." He grinned brightly, the dark cloud looming over from before gone in an instant, "for that phone call too."

"Sure," it wouldn't be bad to have a Hyde indebted to you.

Tyler checked the ticking clock on the kitchen wall, "I guess it is getting late… See you in the morning?"

You nodded. "Night, Galpin."

"G-Good night! Have a good sleep." He smiled dopey, waving briskly while walking backwards to the foot of the stairs before jogging up to his bedroom. So naturally at home.

Just how eager was he to get back in his room?

That wasn't his usual way of walking, what could he be looking forward to or hiding in there… Or he could just be relieved of stress after that talk with his father, maybe that brought about his new behavior.

Your suspicions were beginning to sound far-fetched even to yourself but then again, there was always that silver of possibility that he could be planning to rebel against you.

So you moved fast towards the kitchen sink, tiny spikes of uneasiness pulsing through you, turning the facuet on and letting the water run loudly as you went to look into the trash bin.

Expecting to look down into a void of nothingness.

The large black plastic bag sleeved over the edge of the bin looked loose and puffy. Clearly you didn't do this, your meticulousness wouldn't allow such a lazy set up. You pat down the puffy areas, flattening the edges to allow better access in seeing what trash had been collected.

Shiny peices of black metal greet you at the bottom of the pit, tiny and almost powder-like glitter in the kitchen light. What previously used to be a burner phone now looked like the result of being in someone's clenched fist. Useful monsterous strength… if he could actually get it under his full control.

Whatever anxiety crept inside your heart disappeared as you contently spun on your heel and turned off the kitchen faucet.

A small appreciation for Tyler as thanks to him, there's less work for you now.

You wondered why you even felt 'anxious' at all, it must've been the slight stress of knowing he could've screwed things up for you. And himself. Now that makes sense, of course since it's not as if you actually knew him personally even back in town.

Feeling much more at peace, you headed towards your own bedroom, adjacent from Tyler's. His room barely made any noise except for the few inaudible mumbles and the faint use of his shower and the light peeking through from underneath his door.

You never noticed before but he always had the lights turned on in there. Well, it's not as if you were the one paying the electrical bill. It was nothing noteworthy.

Once settling in your own bed and underneath your blanket in the cozy dark, sleep came easily… Until your brain jostled an interesting observation your very eyes must've slipped.

In the trash bin, there was no sight of the small black piece. The memory card.

The sim card.

Despite his questionable actions, you chose to sleep, thoughts racing alongside a strange excitement building up in you.

Oh what are you up to, Tyler Galpin.

Time was ticking. Neither on his or your side. He just didn't know it yet.

In the following morning you received a misscall from an unknown number. Father. He never contacts you first. There's nothing he needs that you could provide. It must be about the Hyde.

Finally.

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