#dark (netflix) fanfic

[crookedteethed]

18+ Thinking about how the Rafe's would react to reader telling him she’s pregnant.

Season one Rafe would first definitely act like he doesn't remember sleeping with you, especially if you tell him while you're both at a party and all his friends are around, and he's got a cocaine nose job and he thinks everything's funny. You both know that this is a lie because the night you two had sex--straight up fucked--your cunt had Rafe totally whipped. He was coming back for more ( 4 more times, to be exact. Late nights on his boat, in secluded areas on the beach.).

Afterward, whenever you two would see each other on the island, you'd catch him staring at you; he caught himself trying to see if he could spot your baby bump; he'd totally deny this, though. When Topper goes to ask whose the chick he'd been staring down, Rafe would say:

"That's the slut that claims she's having my baby, but it ain't mine."

Season two Rafe would straight up tell you to abort it, and if you didn't listen to him the first time, he'd ask you if you wanted him to abort it for you. Also, I feel like he would go into a frenzy/have a panic attack when three months pass, and he sees you kept the baby. So now he has to explain to his father that he was the dope that got a chick pregnant during a one-night stand. But instead of taking the anger out on you, the baby, or even the pogues, he'd take it out on himself and go on a seven-day party bender.

Season three Rafe would like the idea of being a father and starting a family, especially with you, because you're the first girl he's been with for seven consecutive months (that's a lifetime for Rafe). He would get himself excited about the thought of having a baby (he hopes a boy) so he could officially embody the role of being the "Man of the house." (having a baby to Rafe is like an accessory to him.) He'd take the opportunity to raise his child differently than Ward had raised him, and then he'd show Ward how his offspring became such an outstanding person—something Ward could never do.

During your pregnancy, you both get yourselves excited about baby shopping and coming up with baby names; you and Rafe would also start thinking about marriage, I feel like he'd become more of a tits guy than an ass guy because of how plump your breast got, and I also feel like he would develop a slight breeding kink too during this time, touching and kissing your round belly whenever you two made love, knowing he's the one responsible for making you look like this.

But when the baby comes (It's a pretty little girl--he wanted a boy, but a girl would do. His logic: Girls are boys without a dick. He'd just have to make sure his little girl doesn't turn out such a pogue slut like his sister, Sarah.) Rafe realizes that he doesn't want to be a father anymore. It's too restrictive and time-consuming. How many years does he have to do this? 18?!

Honorable mentions: In each season, the word would spread to Ward, and whether or not Rafe wanted to keep the baby, Ward would force Rafe to take responsibility. "Take responsibility" in a Ward Cameron way; He'd bride you and your family. He is giving you all the desired amount of cash to either get an abortion or move away (or both) because he wouldn't want to ruin the Cameron image. Lord knows how the island would see his family if his bastard son gave birth to a bastard child.

[withoutyouimsaskia]

Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 1)

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

​GIF: Originally posted by @tavners

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Home invasion. Voyeurism. Implied masturbation. Dream manipulation.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Wow, this took way longer to finish than I had originally planned. My head's been all over the place with trying (and thus far failing) to find a new job. The themes are very different to what I've written before; I hope it reads okay. Please let me know what you think. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

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

Fate.

A phenomenon that governed every particle of matter within the known universe and even those beyond.

Some considered it a comforting concept that excused them from the burden of decision making, citing: "I'll leave it up to fate." For others the phrase was a cursory, throw-away comment or a romantic line they heard in the lyrics of a song.

The real truth of the matter was that Fate was a trio of immortal beings, goddesses, with sight so potent that they knew the past, present and future of every individual to have lived. The mythology of the Greeks, Romans and Norse hadn't been too far off with their stories of the Moirai, Parcae and Norns but of course, no humans really believed there to be any realism in myths. They were just stories. It didn't matter either way; they existed and had influence regardless of what the majority believed.

For beings such as The Endless siblings, the presence of Fate in the cosmos was not only real, but also something that affected even themselves.

For the King of Dreams, an eventuality had been prophesised long ago by The Kindly Ones that spoke of a bond that was to be forged between himself and a mortal.

Lord Morpheus, in his pride, had tried to be above such a foretelling, even questioning its validity because the notion of a mortal accepting his version of the universe seemed wholly implausible.

But he could not truly stop himself from wondering about you, reaching out to see if he could feel your presence in the minds of the dreamers he hosted.

It wasn't something he indulged in with frequency. More of a once-in a-decade interval. Enough to appease his curiosity.

Of course, this was put on hold during his imprisonment at Fawney Rig.

Morpheus had had much to contemplate during this period. The damage his absence caused to the collective subconscious, the decay of his realm, the loss of freedom and dignity. There was also a chance that you had been born and died in the 106 years he spent in captivity.

What if he was too late and had lost the chance of discovering who you were?

It was a nauseating prospect that scraped and scratched a space deep within his being; bleeding him of his remaining stores of hope that were so significantly depleted after the death of beloved Jessamy.

Despite the nasty emotional wound, finding you was a charge that he assigned at the end of his priorities after his escape.

Recovering his scattered tools, restoring the Dreaming, locating his absent creations, unravelling the mystery of Rose Walker and confronting Desire all had needed to come first.

The latter interaction had left Morpheus with a seething rage that was currently propelling him down the boards of the dock that sit above the Ocean of Dreams.

The dense mist in the air is buffeted by his movements and the only sounds are the tread of boots, the creak of wooden slats and the lap of water.

With each step, the liquid becomes choppier as it reacts to its master's mood and by the time he has reached the end of the dock, the surface of the water roils fervorously, completely in line with Morpheus' dangerous temperament.

The words of Desire's final silken-toned taunt echo in his mind with grating persistence.

"Oh, poor Dream. I really got under your skin this time, didn't I?"

He is loathe to admit there is truth in the question.

There are moments where Morpheus ponders the turn that the relationship between them has taken. How Desire went from being his favourite sibling to someone one shade shy of an adversary. Their faultless adeptness at provoking his temper and manipulating the events that encircle him would be impressive if not for the danger posed to humanity.

The agitated water eventually draws focus to how out of control he and his emotions have become. Morpheus knows he must get them in check, and quickly, for he knows the consequences all too well should he ignore it.

He clenches his fist and swallows it all down, pushing it deep inside his belly until the crackling entropy of the anger is fully dispelled.

Morpheus then sweeps his coat out behind him as he sinks lithely into a crouch. Trepidation nips at his heart and tugs his attention to a sobering thought.

This foray into the water may be fruitless.

You may be long gone and there would be no way of ever knowing you.

His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath; he has run out of excuses to not look, even if he is afraid of the outcome.

Long, delicate fingers dapple the surface of the inky ocean. The waves still at the touch, obedient to him with instancy.

He repositions to full height and reaches into his coat to find the pouch of sand stashed in the pocket. A handful of twinkling grains slip off his palm into the ocean, lighting the water it touches to a luminous green.

"Find my soulmate," Morpheus commands silently.

The intention is set. He steps off the dock into the water.

At first, like every other prior attempt, there is no sign of you. Morpheus floats submerged in the tepid liquid, filtering through the hubbub of countless other dreams and nightmares.

Then there is a pull.

It is faint yet indisputable. Warmth explodes in his chest and he groans inwardly from the delicious sensation of relief.

You are alive, and you are dreaming.

A path of radiance appears in the water, a line that shows your connection, and provides a location for him to hone in on.

Morpheus dives deeper without hesitation.

As he reaches the edge of your subconscious, he rejoices that he got a handle on his emotions. He wouldn't want your first perception of him to be one tinged with rage, however unaware you were of him, with your soulmate being the source.

He hesitates for a moment before entering the dream you are in and is somewhat taken aback by what he finds.

A room comprising of four blank walls, a floor, a ceiling and a door. There is but one other feature; a window, and its view is as non-descript and inoffensive as the internal space.

You stand by said window, head turned from him.

Despite being unable to see your face, he sees your anxiety with immediacy. It is an aura hovering about your body, being sucked into your lungs with every fast-paced breath.

You begin to throw glances towards the door. Morpheus filters through the layers of the dream. No one is scheduled to come across the threshold.

The more he observes, the more questions arise in Morpheus' mind.

What was making you so affected? What were you expecting to happen?

There's nothing in the scene that is intended to be unpleasant yet you are reacting in a way that most observers would characterise as unsettled.

Morpheus, despite not yet knowing you, doesn't like to see you this way. His dominant instinct is to end the dream but he quashes the desire to review the bigger picture.

The empty room dream was symbolic of a beginning.

It clicks into place.

What you were feeling, even if on a purely instinctual level, was the anticipation of meeting your soulmate and starting your new life.

Morpheus steps into the frame, just a couple of paces behind you.

You feel his presence instantly, eyes full to the brim with tears as you whirl around with a soft gasp.

You see him.

The tears spill and patter onto the white floor.

Morpheus reaches out, overcome by his need to provide comfort.

You disappear.

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

Morpheus is sat on his throne. He pores over the book he had located in the Dreaming's library a little over a week ago that contains the details of your life. It is something he has taken to doing when the impatience of waiting for you to fall asleep becomes too keen.

Your subconscious has him enraptured, watching it every night as if it is a stage show. Each dream he delves into is like the tug of fingers on a loose thread, your psyche has begun to unravel before him.

Everything from whims to cravings, hopes to fears. Your temperament, the things that delight and irk you. What drives you and demotivates you. He consumes it all with an insatiable hunger.

Based on the projection of yourself that he sees, there is no doubt that he is attracted to you.

All that prior haughty disregard for the Fates' prophecy has been cast aside like a negative thought in a meditation session. Morpheus is a romantic. A believer. He is ashamed to have even doubted your coming.

He wonders if it would vex Desire to learn of him finding his soulmate and by extension, the prospect of companionship, perhaps even physical intimacy or love.

It is all too easy to imagine the sickly sweet grin they would smile at him, shown to be fake by the almost imperceptible contempt glinting in their golden eyes.

Would his triumph drive them to distraction?

It is this smug sentiment that spurs his next decision. He wants more. The next logical step is to find you in the waking world.

He rises from his throne, a sure hand ready to bring forth his pouch of sand when he falters.

Tears pool in his eyes.

His mind is suddenly marred with the memories of what happened in 1916. The agony, mortification and rage that followed. He couldn't go through that kind of treatment ever again and the waking world expanded the risk of it transpiring.

"No," he says resolutely. His sadness turns to resolve, the hard line of his grimace matching those set in his brows.

He will not let the actions of a group of mortals dissuade him from going to you. And besides, he has researched everything he can about you from within the safety of the Dreaming.

He takes a measure of sand and uses it to materialise within your bedroom.

It is obvious from a quick scan of it that deliberate attempts have been made to ensure the space is cosy and calming.

Two marshmallowy pillows support your head. The cotton sheets have been meticulously tucked to avoid drafts. A lavender reed diffuser fragrances the air with a subtle scent. There are no devices or screens visible.

Everything has its place. A coaster supported glass of water within reaching distance. Touch activated lamp in case of emergency. The diary lined up with the back left corner of the bedside table, pen placed parallel in the spine dent. All clothes are in the wardrobe or stashed in the laundry basket.

Morpheus moves to the curtain-shrouded window and delicately moves the dark, heavy fabric to catch a glimpse of the outside world.

The scene is sepia stained from an old streetlight positioned right outside your home. It explained the choice of curtains.

You stir slightly from the change in environment and Morpheus allows the curtain to fall back in place. He remains stationary until your breathing returns to its previous pace. It is imperative that his presence remains undisclosed. He knows that mortals do not take well to home invasion.

Then, your right hand slips out from the duvet cocoon revealing a cushion cut ruby ring on your middle finger.

He smiles exultantly. The similarity between the jewel and his own now-destroyed dreamstone was undeniable.

The Fates were making it transparent.

You were the one.

Morpheus approaches the side of your bed now. In your momentary discomfort, you had moved your head, making your whole face visible to your uninvited guest.

He bends gracefully so his face is closer to yours and observes you with an intent fascination.

Even in the gloom, Morpheus asserts that your features are even more captivating now that he is able to look upon them in person and is certain that if he could guarantee an absence of fear then he would fall to knees and worship you right there.

Fingers stroke a lock of hair splayed across the pillow and his thoughts turn darker still, imagining what he would do with you if he could get you alone in the Dreaming. How he would seduce you with words, and then pleasure your body with his own until you were senseless.

Getting you there would be so easy, all he needed to do was move his hand up and touch your skin and -

Morpheus stops himself, deciding that now is not the time for an introduction. He will wait until tomorrow. You need to rest. It will be quite the revelation for your sweet mortal heart.

Morpheus whispers a promise, "We will be together soon, my precious soulmate."

He leaves after taking one last look at your peaceful form.

When he returns to the Dreaming, Morpheus discovers that the visit has riled him way beyond what he thought possible.

It was supposed to sate his curiosity and answer some questions.

It has done the opposite.

His craving for you is sublimely intense, opiate-like in its ensnarement.

He needs to possess you. To have you all to himself. Everything would fall into place. Loneliness, disillusionment, jealousy; they would never darken his outlook again. You would heal him, he is certain of it.

He paces restlessly in the low light of his private chambers as heat ripples beneath the surface of his being, charging him with pure sexual lust.

He hungers for the moment when you feel the same about him.

For now, all he can do is stand and touch himself while thinking of your face, an act that has been carried out repeatedly in the days since he found you in the Ocean of Dreams.

An erotic idea enters his mind.

Your subconscious is still in the Dreaming; he knows the feeling of it intimately.

Perhaps he could bring you a dream mirroring his own current fantasy.

To give you a taste of what was to come.

A gift that only he could bestow.

The mere thought of it turns him on even more. His back arches and his eyes roll back as he choses the words through which he would deliver the offering.

"Dream of me," Morpheus murmurs breathlessly. "Dream of me."

He repeats the phrase until he is unable to continue, moans taking over the darkened space around him.

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

It is dusk the next day when Morpheus returns to the waking world.

The instant he touches down on the Earth's surface, he knows exactly where to go. The metaphysical connection between you is as strong as the energy pulsing through a ley line.

The city he is directed to is thrumming with life but the side street he stands in has been spared from the furore.

It is fortuitous that he is permitted to be unobserved for Morpheus is struggling now with the urge to get closer.

Providence is pulling him in and also locking him out.

He walks up to the door and then an invisible force makes him back away.

He doesn't even try to fight it.

The Fates hold all the cards. Morpheus is beholden to their each and every whim.

It is surprisingly liberating.

He is dancing in the cross hairs. Blinkered by the tie the universe has fashioned for you.

All he has to do is wait.

The door to the building is pushed open.

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

Taglist: @herfantasyworldd

"Fate. Up against your will. Through the thick and thin. He will wait until you give yourself to him."

[simsim54]

“Falling in love with you was easy. Staying in love with you despite all of our differences, that was the hard part.”

Nothing relates more to Young Royals Season 3 than this quote!

[pandorascripts]

unknowingly yours

warnings: dark themes, stalking, possessiveness, obsession, gore, murder, biting, jealousy, and im probably forgetting something too. (you’re responsible for ur own media consumption buddy)

pairing: dark!wednesday addams x vampire!fem!reader

(all characters aged up to 18)

notes: this was written on a whim at like 1am, and I’ve just now completed it. it’s kinda rushed and half-assed. enjoy :)

————

Gomez had tried to warn his daughter what it meant to be an Addams. What it meant to be so deeply in love with someone, that’d you do anything for them. You’d murder, abandon your morales, just to get one more taste of them. Wednesday had repeatedly shoved him off, claiming it would never happen, but it did. The moment Wednesday laid eyes on you, she could feel the obsession turning dark, horrific. She reveled in it. 

Wednesday loved the thrill of sneaking into your dorm, watching you whilst slept. She loved sitting in the back of her class, watching you do anything and everything. Every time your shoulders raised, taking a breath, Wednesday could praise you for it. She never understood what her father meant, until people got too touchy. After countless victims, it Yoko became the newest.

Wednesday sat in the back of the cafeteria, watching you chat with your friends. Yoko slung her arm over you shoulder, and Wednesday felt the can in her hand crack. She tried calming breaths, something her father taught her. They didn’t work. She shook with rage, the can splitting in half with her might and slicing her palm clean. She didn’t care though, all that mattered now was Yoko, who was now leaning into your ear, whispering something.

 Wednesday took in another shaky breath, how dare she touch what was hers. Wednesday decided she would show that vampire not to mess with her territory, and you, you were in trouble. You were hers, and it’s just about time you started acting like it. 

She watched with rapt attention as you leaned back, giggling. You lightly slapped Yoko on the shoulder, blushing deeply and scolding her. Wednesday stood up, food untouched, and walked over to your table. 

She bumped into the wood, her tray flying upwards and landing in Yoko’s lap. 

“The hell, dude?” Yoko yelled, her hands in the air, away from the mess. 

You rushed into action, picking up bits of food with a napkin. 

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it, Yoko. Calm down.”

Wednesday stared at you. Oh, you were so kind, beautifully unaware, and completely vulnerable. Wednesday filled with glee at the mere thought of ruining you. 

“Yes, precisely.” Wednesday nodded to you, her eyes never leaving yours. 

You smiled at her. “See you in botany, Wednesday?”

She nodded stiffly once again, her insides doing summersaults. You were so sweet, deliciously so. Wednesday walked away, her tray still on Yoko’s lap. That bloodsucker could deal with it, after all, it was only part of Wednesday’s much needed apology. She’d get the rest tonight, when Yoko was begging her for mercy. Her lips nearly twitched at the thought. 

Wednesday walked back up to her dorm, still having fifteen minutes until botany with you. She set her bag down on her dark bed, the empty side of the room creaking. She was so pleased she didn’t have a roommate, that’d make this next part harder. Wednesday leaned under her bed, pulling out a huge poster board. She raced back to the door, double checking its lock, and set it up. 

Her fingers traced over the red strings and pins delicately, stopping at a photo of you. You were laying down, enjoying the sun, your eyes closed and wearing your uniform. She remembered that day like yesterday, it was the first time you’d two had spoken. She only fell deeper. 

Wednesday strolled down to the lake, watching as the lily pads drifted slowly. Canoes splashed across the water, people yelling and cheering. 

“Hey! You mind if I sit here?”

Wednesday looked up, ready to dismember who ever decided to ruin her quiet. Her eyes laid on yours and, oh, Wednesday could’ve fainted. You were beautiful, an ethereal smile plastered on your face, eyes deep and true. It only solidified Wednesday’s desire for you. 

“No, not at all.”

Wednesday scooted to the left, offering you more room against the tree. 

You muttered a thank you. 

“So, why are you all out here alone?”

Wednesday sighed, your voice was so pleasing, and it was bending her to your will even more so. 

“I’ve decided to observe the Poe Cup. Thought it’d be amusing when they sink and fall. What about you, bellissima?

The Italian caught you by surprise, you were rusty, not really remembering most of it, so you shoved the nickname aside. 

“Figured I’d get away from all the yelling. It’s more peaceful down here. I’m glad you’ve found my spot though.”

“Your spot?” Wednesday questioned, her hands itching to hold yours and never let it go. 

“Yes, it’s been mine for a bit. Glad to share it though, been getting a bit lonely.”

Wednesday felt the Italian bubbling up, her father warned her about this too. She’d want to call you names, anything to give you a temporary mark as hers. She swallowed it though, choosing to instead ask you question with no flirtation. 

“Lonely? You don’t have someone?”

You chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. Wednesday wished she could’ve done it for you, she truly believed it was a crime that you’d do it yourself. A goddess like you shouldn’t waste precious time. 

“No— I— No, I don’t. You?”

Wednesday shook her head. “I’ll have them soon.” 

You smiled. “Do I know them?”

“You’re very familiar.”

You chuckled again. “What are they like?”

“They’re beautiful, out of the world so, and they make me crazy.”

You cracked a huge smile. “That’s cute. Sounds like you adore them.”

“Più di quanto tu possa sapere, mia amata.”

“I’m afraid my Italians a bit rusty. What’d you say?”

“Nothing of importance. No need to fret.”

Wednesday sighed. She traced her board again, documents and other people plastered up on there. Gently, she flipped it over, the backside littered with more photos. Everyone who was a threat. 

She traced the X’s over their eyes, a wicked smile covering her face. Wednesday uncapped a red sharpie, drawing slow, deep X’s over Yoko’s eyes.

“Non ci disturberà più, amore mio,” she sighed. 

Wednesday ordered Thing to put the board back under again. She marched off to her drawer, unlocking a secret section. Carefully, she pulled it out. 

“Which one, Thing? The mace, my machete? Or should we do it in style? After all, we are aiming to impress her.”

Her fingers grazed over her arsenal of weapons. 

“Let’s go old fashioned, hm?” She asked, pulling out a wooden stake. “Yoko’s barely even a threat.”

Wednesday set the oak down on her bed, taking out garlic spray before locking it back up. She slipped on a black pair of medical gloves, releasing them so they smacked painfully against her skin. Wednesday sighed in contempt. 

“Thing, put on a glove. Nevermore’s already worried about their students. They keep disappearing don’t they?”

He tapped in agreement. 

“What. A. Pity.”

She waited until dark, skipping her class, deciding to get more items like flashlights and garlic bombs to neutralize Yoko. Wednesday knew you wouldn’t be there, she always knew what you were doing. The psychic flipped open her pocket watch. 

Two A.M, perfect time to strike. 

Wednesday crept out of Ophelia Hall, traveling in the shadows until she reached Persephone’s Wing. Crouching down under room two-hundred and forty-three, Wednesday pulled the pin on the garlic grenade and rolled it under the door. It exploded silently, a jagged choking noise filling the room. Wednesday tossed another one, slipping out her crowbar and cracking the door open. 

The anger from earlier surged through her as Wednesday marched inwards, she closed the door behind her. Knowing the lock was broken, she slid Yoko’s desk against the wooden frame. 

Yoko choked out pleas, desperate to justify herself for an unknown crime. Wednesday looked up, inhaling deeply as she soaked in Yoko’s cries. The vampire continued crying, bloody tears streaking down her face as she choked. 

Wednesday looked to her. Oh, it was exquisite. Yoko’s skin was burned and sores opened up, her neck straining for air, only to be poisoned a second later. 

“Useless, bloodsucker,” Wednesday spat, stomping on Yoko’s stomach. A sharp crack echoed and Wednesday was delighted to hear a rib brake. 

She crouched drown, driving the stake a mere inch from Yoko’s heart. 

“You do not touch what is mine,” she spat again, her stake driving into her repeatedly, missing by an inch. 

“I don’t—“ Yoko gasped, hoping to save herself. 

“LIAR!” Wednesday shouted, diving the stake into her stomach and twisting it. 

Blood gurgled out of Yoko’s mouth, her back arching upwards. 

Wednesday leaned down into Yoko’s ear, stabbing her once again near her heart. 

“She is mine. You are beneath her.” Pure venom erupted from Wednesday. 

She cracked the stake up, driving it into Yoko’s heart. Wednesday panted, leaning back on her knees. She watched with glee as Yoko’s body disintegrated, burning into ash. At least vampires were easy to kill. 

Wednesday picked up her stake. Tilting her neck to the left, she heard it pop and repeated the action. 

“Thing, get the broom.”

Thing shuffled forward, the tall broom too much for him. Wednesday took it, sweeping the vampire remains.

“Nothing like a good murder, hm, Thing?”

He tapped, some ash flying up. 

“Get out of her, I don’t wish for you to smell like garlic and cheap perfume.”

She tossed the bloody gloves into the trash bag, and replaced them with a new set. Wednesday set the broom down, pulling a record player out of her bag. She gently set it aside, shuffling through her travel collection until she reached Debussy: Cello Sonata in D Minor. She put the record on, breathing in heavily as it rang through her ears. 

Wednesday held the garbage bag, filling it with Yoko’s ashes. She wiped her sweaty forehead, dust sticking to it. 

“Thing, clean up the rest.”

She walked away, browsing the vampire’s trinkets. Wednesday paced to her jewelry box, flicking through the accessories. She gasped, a beautiful black skull ring, sat buried under hideous silver and gold necklaces. Wednesday gently pulled it out, holding it in her fingers. 

Now this would make a lovely gift for you. See, Wednesday had a ritual, she’d kill your suitors, fake their leave and give you a gift from their collections. You’d yet to notice, considering all the beautiful gifts she gave were deemed ugly by the owner. For Rowan, she gave you a blood red ring, he probably received it from a family member, for Davina, it was a simple black hair clip. The others were less important, but she remembered them nonetheless. Whether it was a pining fool from across the room, or someone that had written you a love letter, only to scrap it moments later, Wednesday wouldn’t stand for that. The only person you should be with, is her, she was the only one who could treat you right. No one else understood you the way she did. Wednesday wasn’t going to let people stop her from achieving you. 

Her next plan was set in action when you knocked on the door.

“Yoko, I thought we talked about this. I don’t gotta key, you cant lock the door,” you whined. “I’m so tired, please let me in.”

Wednesday frowned. Were there nights she didn’t let you in? She stood behind the door, opening it. 

You walked through, glancing at Yoko’s bed. 

“Yoko?” You called out, shuffling forward. You took note of the odd cello music. Classical was definitely not one of Yoko’s genres. 

You closed the door, and Wednesday smashed a grenade in your face. Unfortunately, you weren’t like other vampires. Garlic wouldn’t affect you, but she knew vervain would.

You hissed, eyes burning. “Who’s there?” You cried out, the pain only getting worse. You tumbled down to the floor. 

Wednesday crouched down to your level, cupping your jaw. You breathed heavily, still not understanding what was happening. 

“Non mi diverto nel tuo dolore. Mi dispiace molto, ma deve essere fatto, amore mio,” Wednesday whispered. 

You whimpered, only one person spoke to you in Italian. 

“What did you do with Yoko?” You cried, rejecting her hand. 

Wednesday seethed. She knew you’d be upset, but couldn’t you see? This was for you. All of it. 

“I killed that useless bimbo. I had to.”

A sob racked through you, your eyes still clamped shut. You scrambled back again, hitting Yoko’s bed.

“You didn’t have to,” you cried, hugging your knees. 

Wednesday walked over to you. She lifted your head up, wincing at the damage. Your eyes were bright red, bubbling and oozing. 

“Mio cuore,” Wednesday whispered. She straightened your legs, sitting down on your thighs. Gently, she brushed back your hair, trying to remove it from your tear-soaked cheeks. 

You continued crying, wishing she’d just go away, but she wouldn’t. You hated yourself because in some twisted, screwed up way, Wednesdays sweet nothings calmed you down. She was a murderer, she killed Yoko ruthlessly, and vervained you, so why did you feel for her? 

“La mia amata, this is going to cause you pain, okay? It’s going to be alright though.”

Wednesday kissed your forehead, raking her hand through your hair. Then, her hand pulled back and tied something around your wrist. 

You screamed out in pain, only to be muffled. She had restrained your hands with vervain-soaked cloth, and tied another one around your mouth.

Your eyes darted open and you lurched forward. The restraints burned your mouth and wrists. Wednesday cupped your face again, placing delicate kisses on your head. 

She shushed you softly, one of her hands supporting your neck as you sobbed. Your breathing became labored and you could only focus on the pain. Your hands felt numb, wrists burning and screaming for release.

Every breath you took scorched your nose and seared your tongue. Your eyes clamped shut, the tears only increasing.

Wednesday hushed you once again, asking you questions. They all just faded away, the pain drowning them out. She leaned in close to your ear. 

“It’s okay. Breathe.” 

You followed her instructions, her words grounding you. The pain trickled into the background, and you let her voice guide you. 

“Good girl,” she husked out. 

You took in another breath with her, shaking. 

“That’s it.” 

Your eyes flickered open, meeting her dark face. You wondered how she could see when the lights were off, but you shoved that aside. You focused on her touch, her breaths, her weight on your thighs. You breathed in deeply again.

“I don’t want to tie up your legs.”

You stiffened, the last thing you wanted right now was more vervain coursing through your veins. Wednesday quickly hushed you. 

“I’m not going to, but you must promise me something.”

You nodded.

“Do not, under any circumstance, run away from me. I’ve waited too long for this moment.” Her voice faded into a whisper as her sentence closed, and you shivered. 

“Do you agree to my terms?”

You nodded your head. 

“Good,” she whispered. 

Slowly Wednesday got off you. The cold enveloped you, and you greedily missed her warmth. You were sick, you thought. This psycho murdered your friend, and here you were, pining. Disgusting. 

You breathed in again, the vervain killing you every time. 

You were too wrapped up in your head, that you hadn’t even notice Wednesday packing up some of your belongings. 

Your eyes darted around the room, her dark figuring jumping all over the place. You wanted to ask her what she was doing, but the sizzling in your mouth wasn’t worth it. 

You breathed in shakily, gaining courage. You chomped downwards, your hands spreading apart, and an involuntary scream racked through you. Wednesday rushed over to you, trying to figure out what you were doing. You clamped your mouth down again, and tried to pull the restraints off. 

“Hey! No, no, no,” she yelled. 

There wasn’t anything Wednesday could do though, she watched as you dropped down. You made yourself pass out from the pain, all so you wouldn’t experience this. Wednesday sighed in annoyance.

She cracked the door open, checking the halls. After seeing no one, she walked back over to you. Wednesday grunted as she picked you up, slinging you over her shoulder. She hated doing this, bodies were so heavy and always a pain to carry. Wednesday decided that she’d get the rest of her stuff later, you were more important. 

Wednesday walked back to her dorm, ducking behind pillars and walls when voices were near. She sighed in relief, placing you on her bed. Wednesday carefully undid your binds, tying them to her bedpost so you couldn’t run. She flinched as the sizzle from your skin filled the silent room. 

Wednesday walked back to Yoko’s room, picking up your stash of belongings that she’d packed for you, returning the room as it was. She packed up her other duffel bag, making sure not forget her record player, and walked out. Thing trailed after her. 

“Lurch has been notified to pick us up?”

Thing tapped. 

“He needs to get her before five. No exceptions.”

He tapped again.

“I don’t care about weather, Thing. He will get here, or he’ll go back in the grave where we discovered him.”

Thing scampered off, racing in front of her. 

She reached her dorm once again and let out a breath of relief. Her bags were all packed, no sign of her existence anywhere. Thing did a good job for once. 

Wednesday flicked out her pocket watch, checking the time. 

3:16, the whole ordeal had lasted roughly an hour. Wednesday frowned, her new lowest not at all pleasing. She walked over to you, kissing you on the forehead softly. Wednesday untied your mouth piece and hoisted you against the head board. 

She unsheathed her pocket knife from her boot and flicked it open. Wednesday shrugged off her plastic gloves, drawing blood over the wound she’d gotten previously. It opened easily, barely even closed, and rubbed it against your lips. The scent of blood had you drooling, waking you up instantly. You growled, looking possessed, and took her hand into your mouth. You fought against your restraints, trying to grab her hand for more. You removed your fangs out of her for a moment, trying to lick them off, and Wednesday retracted her hand. She waived it around, watching as you desperately nipped at it. The veins under your eyes turned a deep purple, blood smeared over your mouth. Your shoulders shook as you pulled at the restraints, trying to get free. The headboard would’ve been completely shattered by now if not for the dose of vervain you’d been hit with. As Wednesday observed your behavior, she realized something, you were a ripper. She moved her hand closer, watching as you shot forward and chomped down. Oh, this was glorious. 

The perfect, sweet, charming goodie-two-shoes, was a killer beast. Wednesday knew she had to be careful with you, but an apart of her desperately wanted to ripped to shreds by your pointy fangs.

Wednesday got off the bed and walked into the bathroom. Your groans and snarls were music to her ears as she poked her skin, drawing more blood to taunt you. She cleaned up her hand, wrapping it in bandage. Wednesday took out a small vial and downed it, grimacing at the taste afterwards. That was for the compulsion. She shook, the taste alone not pleasing. Wednesday would usually hide it in her coffee, the flavor weighing it out, but she was running out of time. 

Thing scampered into the bathroom. 

“He’s here? See, it wasn’t too difficult was it?”

Thing tapped. 

“Keep your distance, she’s hungry. Unfortunately for you, you can’t afford to have a chunk missing.” 

He shivered, scampering off to meet Lurch. 

Wednesday walked back up to you. You were crying once again, whimpering against the headboard. Wednesday went to wipe your tears, her red bandage nearing you. Your expression flipped like a dime, immediately going to ripper mode with the drug-like scent overwhelming you. Wednesday whipped her hand back. 

She was quite curious. You’d been around blood before, whether it was other vampires drinking it, or some kid piercing his skin, you’d never had a problem. So why was it one with her? 

“You need to behave,” Wednesday sighed out. 

You snarled, bloody fangs flashing out at her. 

“I will vervain you. This is your only warning,” she sneered. 

You hissed once again, slumping backwards in defeat. 

Wednesday slowly raised her hand, watching as you shivered with restraint. Your jaw clamped, eyes stuck on red. Your fangs pierced through your gums, and you bit into your own mouth to prevent yourself. Wednesday slowly untied your restrains, quickly tying them behind your back, and shoved you off the bed. She leaned into your ear. 

“I stole your daylight ring whilst you slept. Thing has it now. Your only chance is to come with me, willingly, without causing problems. Do you understand? I willfry you.”

You shuddered, nodding hastily. Wednesday kissed the side of your neck and pushed you forward. The vervain burned your skin, but you trudged through it. You didn’t dare make a sound as you walked, the occasional wince was muffled by biting into your tongue. 

Wednesday whispered praises into your ear as you walked down, your bags already taken care of. 

Wednesday knew this facade had to look real, her parents were under the impression that you’d been dating for awhile. She informed you of this, walking down a flight of stairs. 

“Do not say one word to them, Lurch, or any authorities, understood? Don’t worry about your daylight ring, we only do activities during the night. You’ll fit right in.”

Wednesday undid your restraints, and you gingerly rubbed at them. She raised her hand up to your face, and you looked in surprise at her. 

“My bloods laced with vervain, so you’ll be unable to compel, and vulnerable. It’ll keep you in control, and your ripper side should despise it,” she explained.

You nodded, holding her arm. Shakily, you raised it against your mouth. You fangs ripped through her flesh, and you sighed in relief. Her blood was intoxicating if you ignored the sting of vervain, and your ripper side was going feral. The thought of you biting her neck, her shoulders, anywhere on her had you biting harder. You shook the thoughts from your mind, abruptly tearing her wrist away. You turned your back to her, blinking rapidly and heaving.

“Let me see you,” she whispered. 

You shook your head. Getting wrapped up in your thoughts, you began to spiral, your victims faces flashing in your memories. You curled your hand into a fist, hitting the side of you head hard, trying to get them out. Wednesday’s hands shot up, stopping your hand from striking once again.

You clenched your eyes shut, panicking. Wednesday’s cold hands wrapped around your face, squeezing slightly as she wiped some fallen tears. The pressure lassoed you back to reality, your thoughts swimming into the dark basement of your mind. 

Wednesday lowered your head, choosing to place it on her chest. Her loud heartbeat filled your ears, and your breathing settled. You inhaled deeply, shakily releasing it. 

Her hands slowly started scratching the base of your neck, and she hummed quietly.

You focused on her heart again, hearing it pump steadily. Your ears picked up other noises too, her digestive system slowly working, the acid in her stomach bubbling slightly, and the blood coursing through her veins. The blood moving slowly drowned out her heartbeat, the image of you biting into her jugular filled your thoughts. Your fangs pierced out again, your eyes going darker. Clearing your throat hastily, you blinked rapidly. The whiff of lavender reeled you back to her, Wednesday’s presence returning. You sighed out heavily, leaning most of your weight on Wednesday. 

God, you were so tired. Sometimes the thought of staking yourself seemed better than this, but you knew you couldn’t. You wouldn’t give up. Not until you’d served your sentence. 

“Are you ready to go out to the car?” Wednesday quietly asked. You wouldn’t have picked it up if your senses weren’t heightened.

You nodded slowly, raising your head away from her. You gulped, not meeting her eyes. Wednesday may have been a murderous psycho, but you were a cold hearted ripper. It was hypocritical of you to judge her, especially since Wednesday’s never ripped off a head before. Wallowing in self-loathing, you walked of Nevermore’s doors hand in hand with Wednesday.

[vivalarevolution]

𝓒𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓐𝓼 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓐𝓻𝓮

Dark Tyler Galpin x Siren Reader

A/N: Request sent by anon, I hope I used the ideas well enough and everyone will enjoy this. I warn you, it's not my best work. Be aware of mistakes, english is not my native language. Work contains smut, minors do not interact.

Xavier and Y/n were each other firsts in almost everything. First friend, first love, first kiss. They were almost inseparable.

But something started to go wrong.

Maybe it was because it was first love and those were meant to fail. Not without reason this type was also called puppy love. Everything was approached with excessive excitement and an equal amount of expectations and dreams.

The girl, however, never paid much attention to it. She was in love and all that mattered to her were the feelings that the brunette had for her. What she didn't expect was that he would also give her the worst feelings known to human.

-Your coffee and a cinnamon roll - a new voice said, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Her teary eyes moved to the boy standing over her. Tyler with a warm smile put a mug in front of her, and a small plate on which lay a sweet treat.

-Thank you - she said, trying to sound normal but her voice was trembling anyway -Um, Tyler. I didn't order dessert - she remarked, looking at him expectantly.

-I know - he said, his voice like a woolen blanket on a winter's evening -But I saw my favorite girl had tears in her eyes, so I wanted to try to comfort her.

Favorite girl.

Those two words were etched into her mind like a permanent tattoo. Especially now, when her heart pounded with pain after the loss.

-It means a lot - she confessed, dropping her head to stop more tears from flowing.

-Do you want to talk about it?- he asked concerned.

-I don't know if I be able to do it - she confessed quietly, moving her gaze on the cafe window.

-If you would like, I can just sit with you, keep you company - he said.

-I would -the girl replied with a slightly ,tired smile.

Tyler sat down beside her. In silence, watching as she sipped a hot drink, occasionally picking at a sweet snack with her fingers.

He wanted to be worried, but all he could feel was unbridled joy. When his eyes saw the teenager, something in him snapped. His heart was flooded with an uncontrollable amount of obsession with the siren next to him, but since she was with Xavier he couldn't make a move, he feared he might have alienated her. But now, now nothing stood in the way, and he had come at the perfect time when Y/n was most vulnerable and susceptible on manipulation.

Grasping her smaller hand gently, he squeezed it in an act of silent comfort, and she immediately squeezed it back, looking at him as if he had saved her from all the evil in this world.

The boy smiled softly as his eyes darkened. He had her exactly where he wanted it.

-Of all the people, you chose him?- a male voice suddenly said.

The girl turned on her heel, looking incomprehensibly at the teenager. Her brows furrowed and her face took on a colder expression.

-What are you talking about, Xavier? - she asked.

-Tyler -he replied shortly.

Y/n raised her eyes in disbelief, after a moment snorting like a cat.

-It's none of your business Xavier - said the siren - Everything related to me ceased to be your business at the moment when you trampled my heart without even thinking about the consequences.

Brunet came closer to her, trying to grab her hands, but she ran away from his touch as if burned.

-Don't you remember what he and his group of friends did a year ago?- he remarked, trying to show his point of thinking.

-I remember - she said -But I'm not going to write people off for their mistakes in the past. Tyler is good, Xavier. He was with me when you broke my heart, he picked up every single piece and put it back together, not you.

She felt like she could finally breathe. Letting go of the last rope that held her emotions in a firm grip.

-I did - he began, but couldn't finish.

-No, don't explain yourself to me - she interjected in a hard tone of voice -You've done enough. I loved you Xavier, I loved you more than anything in this world, and you just ruined it like it never meant anything to you. Tell me, was it ever real for you or was it just an illusion?

-It was real, of course it was real - he whispered, catching her face in his hands - I never knew that it would hurt so much to lose you.

-You're right Xavier - she stated quietly, and he smiled thinking that the girl would come back to him, oh how wrong he was - You lost me...forever.

With these words, Y/n pushed her ex-boyfriend's hands away, turning on her heel to prevent him from seeing the tears flowing. It was the fact that she knew that no matter what he did, there would still be a part that would love him. And that terrified her like nothing else.

Walking as far as she could through the city, she found herself in Weathervane, as if her feet carried her to the only source of comfort she knew. It didn't matter that Jericho didn't just stop at the coffee shop, something always drew her there.

When Tyler saw the girl, his face immediately lit up. He loved seeing her face, no matter when, no matter where, he just had to see her, it was as important to him as oxygen itself.

-Hello my favorite girl - he said, and seeing her tremble at his words, his eyes darkened unconsciously.

He quickly learned that Y/n loves compliments just like him. She loved being seen by the people she cared about, she needed that warmth just like Galpin needed her.

-Hey - she said, rushing into his arms as soon as she saw the opportunity.

Nestling into his chest, she inhaled his scent, which was actually muffled by the coffee, or maybe the boy always smelled mostly of this? It was hard to tell.

Brunet embraced her waist, pulling her closer, almost in a possessive and jealous manner, as if no one else could look at her, only himself. Even when the cafe was empty.

-I have something for you - he confessed after a moment, twirling a strand of her hair.

-Hmm, what is it? - she asked, her big doe eyes nearly drove him crazy.

Tyler reluctantly let go of her body as he made his way to the back room, from which he emerged a moment later, holding a bouquet of red roses in his hand. Y/n widened her eyes in surprise, a blush involuntarily appeared on her face.

-Rave'N is soon - he noticed, and seeing how the girl's face beamed, he knew he hit the jackpot.

-I'm the student of Nevermore. I should have invited you, not the other way around - she remarked, walking slowly towards him.

-I noticed you like old-school romance, so I thought I'd invite you. Even if it's kind of against the rules -he stated, watching her reactions -So, Y/n, would you like to come with me to dances?

The girl smiled broadly. Taking the flowers from the boy, she kissed him on the cheek, stroking his face with her free hand.

-I would love to -she replied, smiling after a moment, exhilarated.

As Xavier's eyes landed on a particular siren, his heart involuntarily began to beat faster in his chest. She looked beautiful, like a living sculpture or a work of art brought to life. Her body was covered with a white silk material that hugged her body tightly, emphasizing every aspect of her figure, and the lace only added charm to the whole dress. Her hair, though pinned up, managed to find a way out, falling on her face in the form of a few loose strands, and her neck was decorated with a silver necklace that almost sank between the valley of her breasts.

Brunet shamelessly watched her until a man's hand came to her hip. Frowning, he shifted his gaze to the owner , who turned out to be none other than Tyler Galpin.

The teenager held her in an almost possessive grip, and in response she only fell on his torso, hiding her head in the hollow of his neck to be able to kiss the exposed part of his skin, which made him immediately shift his gaze to her, looking at her with adoration, later kissing her forehead tenderly.

-Will you dance with me? - he asked, practically purring in her ear.

Y/n smiled. Taking his hand that rested on her waist, she pulled him to the dance floor, for a moment her gaze was level with Xavier, who had not taken his eyes off her since her arrival, but this moment made her confidence diminish. Enough for her partner to notice the change in her expression instantly.

Sheriff's son sent him a warning look, turning the girl's back to the green-eyed boy, so that she focused only on him.

The teenager leveled her gaze with Tyler, and her mind immediately calmed down. Feeling his large hands on her hips, she almost melted under their influence, connecting their foreheads as they both swayed to the music.

-Can I kiss you?- he asked like a gentleman, even though his voice was low, almost dark, sending a shiver of excitement down the siren's back.

-I want you to wanna kiss me so bad that you don't even ask - she stated, looking at him through half-closed eyes.

Brunette looked at her with desire, after a moment connecting their mouth in a slow kiss. Their lips couldn't tear themselves apart, connecting almost instantly as one of them pulled away to breathe.

Boy's eyes wandered towards Xavier, who, if he could, would probably tear him apart. But he didn't care much, returning his attention to Y/n, which occupied most of his thoughts.

His hands, as if on cue, tightened on the material of her dress, involuntarily forcing her hips to move, and she allowed him to, moving as he wanted.

Y/n clung to Galpin's body, wrapping her hand around his neck to hold him even closer, even though there was absolutely no space between them. Putting her chin on his shoulder, she rocked with him, feeling him rest his head on her shoulder as well, kissing her bare collarbone.

It didn’t matter if the music around them was slow or fast, danceable, romantic or driving people completely crazy. They danced to their own rhythm, gliding on the dance floor in each other's arms, not leaving each other even for a step.

Suddenly, the girl felt something wet on her face. Opening her eyes, she lifted her face up, causing more drops to fall on her forehead and cheeks. Tyler straightened up, looking at her, wanting to know why she stood still, but seeing her face stained red, he ran his thumb over her skin, checking what had hurt her, but there was nothing under the blood. Only then did he saw that the liquid also adorned his clothes, painting his jacket scarlet.

Then chaos broke out around them. The Nevermore students crashed into each other, screaming and running to avoid the rain of blood, which turned out to be mere paint. Y/n grabbed Tyler's hand, trying to lead him away, but he ended up quickly grabbing her in his arms, taking her away from everyone, especially Xavier, who was fanatically searching for her.

-I'll take you to your dorm - he said innocently, and the teenager nodded thankfully.

-Thank you - she said, putting her hands on his neck- Do you know where to go? - she asked, slightly shocked that he hadn't asked her for direction yet.

-I figured I'd just keep walking straight - he explained quickly.

-Well, you're lucky - the girl stated, turning her head towards the corridor ahead -My room is at the end on the left - she confessed, and Tyler immediately started walking towards it.

-Can I come in? - he asked, setting her down.

-Sure. You'll be able to put on something clean, a few of your shirts are in my closet - she stated, looking away from him, slightly embarrassed by the confession.

-My shirts, hmm? - he muttered as he closed the door behind him.

-I may have borrowed one or two while I was at your place - she announced, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

-I don't mind - he admitted, walking toward her like a predator - I like knowing you wear my stuff. It's clearer that you belong only to me, no one else -he added, catching her chin in his fingers, lifting it up.

-Tyler - the girl whispered, blushing.

-You belong to me, don't you Y/n? - he asked, his eyes darkening -Tell me the truth, don't you dare lie.

-I...- she began, almost gasping for air as the boy's hand rolled up the material of her dress, resting on her womanhood, which was covered only by the thin material of her panties.

-Come on Y/n, you're my favorite girl, and favorite girls tells the truth - he stated, pressing down on her clitoris ,which made her moan softly.

-I belong to you - she said shyly.

- Good girl - the teenager praised her, grabbing her jaw with his other hand - You deserve a reward.

-Reward? - she asked confused.

-Of course - he said, stroking her dirty face with his thumb -I'll make you feel good, very good. It's up to you if you want my fingers, my tongue... or my member, or all three.

-Tyler...I never - she began, trying to hide herself.

-Don't worry. I'll be gentle - he said tenderly - Consider it my way of convincing you - he began.

-Of what? -asked the siren.

-That I’m better -he said.

-You already are - Y/n replied honestly.

-You're just telling me what I want to hear, sweetheart? - he asked -So I’ll fuck you?

-Please - she whispered, closing her eyes.

-You already asking. So polite - he remarked - Will you tell me what you want?

-I don't know - she admitted quietly -I don't know what I want.

-Oh, you're poor thing - he murmured, kneeling before her -In that case I'll give you everything, and you'll take it.

Before Y/n could fully process the words in her mind, Tyler began feasting between her legs. The girl felt embarrassed at being so exposed for the first time, but the feeling quickly disappeared, pushed out by lust and unbridled desire.

Unable to stop herself, various sounds fell out of her mouth. Moans, whimpers and screams that she couldn't stop.

-Ty...Tyler- she moaned, clutching the wall behind her in desperation - Stop...I'm going to pee...please stop.

But those words only turned him on more.

Grasping her thighs in a firm grip, he lifted her body up so that her legs hung over his shoulders, causing her to nearly fall from the sudden movement. And seeing him lift her body with ease made her reach her endpoint with a loud, uncontrollable scream.

-So sweet - the boy purred, his voice drowned out by the fabric of her dress as he slurped her juices that squirted straight into his face.

Y/n's face turned burgundy. Her mind screamed for her to hide away from everyone while her heart pounded, becoming addicted extremely fast to the feeling that overtook her body.

She was so conflicted, yet she stayed put. Waiting to see what Tyler will do with her.

After a moment, the boy got up from his knees, towering over her again. Her flushed and embarrassed face gave him more satisfaction than he could admit. Grasping her neck, he slid his hand up to her jaw, turning her head as he wanted.

-Are you ready for the main attraction? - he asked, and the tone of his voice, so dark and dangerous at the same time, sent her far beyond her body.

Y/n was scared as much as she was excited, but didn't want to disappoint Tyler, so she nodded obediently, not trusting her own vocal cords for the moment.

Brunet turned her back to him, pressing her body against the wall, while one of his hands pulled her hips closer to his crotch. The boy brought his mouth close to her ear, gliding gently on its lobe.

-Can you feel me? - he asked, pushing his loins against her bum -You made me so hard. You always do that when you're with me, but you don't realize it, do you? You are too naive and innocent.

-I'm sorry - she whispered, not knowing what else to say.

-You don't have to apologize - he said, stroking her cheekbone -I'll make you feel exactly what I feel -he promised, imperceptibly grabbing the fabric of her dress.

The first thing the girl heard was the sound of ripping, then she felt the silk material slide off her shoulders and breasts, hanging loosely from her waist. A shiver ran down her naked back, and as the Tyler's hands pulled her clothes up, revealing her ruined underwear, her body burst into flames.

-So ruined, you look perfect - he admitted, removing the last of the material protecting her from the teenager's eyes, even though she thought he had long ago gotten rid of them - Only tears are missing... but don't worry, these will soon be on your face as well.

Removing his belt and unbuckling his pants, he pulled out his member, not without reason stroking it a couple of times, knowing full well that a pair of eyes were watching him carefully.

-It won't fit - the mermaid confessed quietly - You'll tear me apart.

-You're so wet I'm going to enter you in one fluid motion -he stated, clinging to her back again -And when I do, I'll stretch you properly, don't be afraid - he added, directing his manhood to her entrance, which was tightening again and again - See? - he whispered as half of it disappeared into her tight and warm canal.

-Too big - she said, on the verge of tears, feeling her lower belly being filled.

-Shh- whispered the green-eyed boy soothingly -You take me so well, your pussy want me inside. Don't deny it and let yourself be carried away by pleasure.

As Tyler entered her fully, he growled as her insides gripped him, not letting go, sucking him inside. Y/n, on the other hand, had never felt so stuffed, so full.

Again, he didn't let her process the situation exactly, starting to move back and forth slowly at first, testing the waters. Changing pace quickly ,obsessed with wet sounds, skin slapping against skin and feeling the outline of his member under his fingertips.

The girl leaned her forehead against the cold wall, moaning and squealing, letting him use her to his heart's content. Even when the pain mixed with pleasure became too much for her, she dutifully accepted everything he gave her, losing track of time.

Galpin snatched one orgasm out of her after another. Hitting her harder and deeper with each climax until his Y/n was barely conscious. Her mind, long clouded by lust, was unable to function and he took full advantage of it.

Finally, the tears in the girl's eyes, her sore throat and the walls of her womanhood that tightened on him made him unable to stand it, coming deep inside her. She shivered as her latest orgasm mixed with Tyler's. A sticky substance flowed from her used inside, straight to her thighs. The girl wanted to be disgusted, but deep down she felt how her desire only grew stronger, although it shouldn't have.

Her eyes began to look for those belonging to the brunet, who did not stop watching her even for a moment. Caressing her lips extremely gently and tenderly, he smiled, and adoration returned to his eyes.

Y/n like an addicted of the feeling, tried to kiss his lips again, and he easily bent down, giving her exactly what she wanted, after a moment looking back.

The siren decided to follow him, confused, only to find Xavier in the doorway staring at them with envy and a hint of lust that he couldn't contain.

[hansortega]

Her beauty is undeniable, the angel that seduces me in the most naughty way. Trekking on an endless exploration inside of her. The harder I pound the more wet she gets, submissively squirting for me. Being her one and only, she follows and looks up to my example. Because I am the only person she needs.

[lilibrownlabonita]

more xavier smut pleaseee

the way you wrote nicotine was- wow- 🙇‍♀️

I'm glad you liked Nicotine, I'm very happy, I hope you like what I wrote here too.

*=link +18

He had been in a bad mood the past few days, and as usual, he took it out on you.

*Her large skirt covered what Xavier's hand was doing between her legs, his voice was demanding and controlled.

"Keep still."

His hand was alternating between massaging your pussy and *squeezing your thigh.

You tried not to draw attention, if they found out that Xavier was masturbating you during class, you would both be expelled.

"Xavier, please stop, someone might see."

"If you keep talking I will bend you over the table and fuck you in front of everyone."

His fingers were now penetrating you, slowly, going as deep as possible.

Xavier was still paying attention to the class, as if nothing was happening under the table.

You see him using his other hand to unzip his pants, and while covering his lap with a sweatshirt he looks at you with a mischievous grin, Xavier holds your hand and directs it to his cock.

His mouth is close to your ear, so he whispers.

"Touch my cock, pretty girl."

Your eyes are watery, but Xavier doesn't care; he likes to see you cry.

You close your hand around his cock, you start slow movements from bottom to top and top-down, Xavier's breathing is unregulated, his fingers penetrate your pussy faster and deeper.

"Fuck, squeeze my cock."

His low moans make you wetter, the only thing you can think of is to cum as fast as possible, unable to reason about his request.

Your face is hot, your pussy tightens around Xavier's fingers, you are almost there, and again his lips are close to your ear.

"I said squeeze my cock, or I swear I'll stop, slut."

Afraid of the threat, your hand squeezes his cock, hard enough to make him gasp.

You don't know how anyone realizes what is happening, but you don't care. The only thing that matters is how hard his cock is in your hand.

Involuntarily your legs spread wider, your pussy is now rubbing against Xavier's hand, his fingers hit your G-spot repeatedly, he smiles watching you squirm and controlling yourself not to draw attention as your hand strokes his cock.

"Come on girl, be a good slut, cum for me."

Desperate to please, you concentrate and feel the tingling begin, your thighs tighten around his hand, your eyes close and you cum.

"Good girl, now touch your pussy."

While your legs are still trembling, you place the hand that was touching his cock on your pussy.

"That's it, now touch my cock and make me cum."

Again your hand closes around his cock, with the lubrication from your pussy, your hand slides easily on his cock.

Xavier sighs as your thumb goes around the head of his cock, you watch his eyes slowly close as your hand slowly moves down his cock.

Your hand is now on his balls, you squeeze them and then move your hand up to continue the back and forth motion on his cock.

With a few minutes left before the bell rings, Xavier's face is slightly red, he is desperate to come.

"Make me cum, or I will punish you."

The movements of your hand are now faster, you move closer to his ear and whisper.

"Xavi, cum for me, please."

*His eyes close tightly, his breathing is uncontrolled, he grunts and cums in your hand.

The bell rings, so loud it scares you, the teacher dismisses everyone and says goodbye.

[cabe0512]

Hector, as he appears in my fanfic: The Curse of Darkness.

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: Hob Gadling lets his lover practice his needlework on him. He's also been shot three times, which is rather part of it, but a little bit less important at the moment than a creature with tentacles helpfully digging out the bullets and trying to sew him shut again.

Author: @moorishflower

Note from submitter: It's an fantastic Siren AU with intricately genius worldbuilding, character designs, and adventures. Start buy swimming in the sea, lets go swim in the stars. I simply can never get enough of this series. 

[withoutyouimsaskia]

Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 8)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

GIF: Originally posted by @darklinsblog

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Nightmares. Violence. Dub/non con. Kissing. Nudity. AFAB + AMAB penetrative sex. Unprotected sex. Plot related cigarette use. Language.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Hello there! I wasn't intending on posting this chapter until I had the others finished but I guess Tumblr took that decision away from me and published instead of saving! Oh well, guess I'll roll with it. As always, I hope you enjoy and would be very happy to hear your thoughts. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

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

The combination of the darkened clouds and the even more desaturated décor is making the room despairingly claustrophobic.

Sporadic breaths rattle up and down your trachea; a remnant of the fear that had been created by the tail end of that conversation. You are struggling to make sense of the direction it had taken; the barrelling downward spiral whereby you discovered your newfound status.

No longer do you hold the lone title of soulmate. You are a captive.

At least that's what Morpheus made it sound like. The word is shudder inducing and a fresh trickle of bile spills into your mouth.

The door he left through, the one blocking your freedom, you are standing close enough to it that you can see every grain and groove of the ebony wood - and the curious absence of a handle or lock. With a flattened hand you gingerly press against the varnished surface, upping the pressure when you don't appear to have tripped any alarms. There's no movement no matter how hard you push, not that you really anticipated any. Morpheus said locked in for a reason. Regardless, you feel that you needed to try just in case he had changed his mind. Again, an eventuality that you do not expect.

You get the sense that Morpheus' grasp of stubbornness would rival that belonging to a group of at least 100,000 people; he is a ruler, and a centuries-old one at that. Accustomed to being in control, well versed in the art of exerting it.

He's chilling too. That nightmare quality really won out just now. You have seen darkness in his eyes before, (brought on by intense moments including sexual desire) and the effects he can have on the environments surrounding him, but this was a whole new breed.

The deflection. The disdain. The remorselessness. How the shadows had danced around him like crude oil twisting in water, a cloak of obscurity and energy to drive you away and leave you isolated.

And your relentlessness was the catalyst for it being unleashed. You're unsure as to why you brought up the theoretical consequences of refusing to be his soulmate. It had just slipped out. There were numerous other ways in which you could have handled the situation yet that was the conversational path you took.

You shudder again, wrapping your arms around your middle in an attempt to self-soothe. It provides a measure of relief but also draws attention to the fact that he should be doing this. Morpheus should be holding you. Talking this through with you.

Instead he left you standing on the marble floor, the intrinsically endothermic nature of the material causing iciness to seep up your legs via your bare feet.

Seeking warmth, you move back to the bed and dejectedly lie down.

The usual covered plate of food has appeared on the bedside table; your expression is so obviously rattled that you can see every detail despite the metal's distortion. You roll over, not wanting to contemplate eating for even a second.

Your entire body is tense, with epicentres in your tight chest and thought-clogged brain, the latter of which is showing signs of inducing a migraine. You breathe with steady intent, a review of the encounter relentlessly replaying.

One question keeps rising to the surface, getting louder and more insistent with each iteration:

Why was he doing this?

He had said it was to protect you. That it was dangerous outside. Was the dream world suddenly that different now that you had free will? Surely he would have led with that if it were true. Found a way to make it safe...

He's been unfalteringly devoted to you in every other way thus far. The aftercare looked to be proof enough of his character. The reassurance, and explanations during the soul-tying. Holding you. Staying beside you while you slept, even though he did not require the rest himself.

But then there is the distinct lack of sharing, both of his internal and external worlds, and of course the 'it is not your place to do so' comment.

That one really stings. You had been convinced that you were his equal. Yet the way the words fell so easily from his mouth, without hesitation nor any sign of an underpinning emotion - it sounded like a response that was not uttered in the heat of the moment.

How were you to know though?

You've not known him for that long and it's not like you can tell from the bond between you, even now after days of longing to and trying to pick up on something, anything that would inform you of his heart. The one thing you can attempt to read into is the state of the ceiling sky; you are getting a sense that it is linked directly to his moods. Its sudden deterioration the moment you had voiced your concerns couldn't have been a coincidence, could it?

The more you grapple for meaning, the harder you are finding it to reconcile the evidence before you, so conflicted on your opinion of him, of the situation. Yet no amount of speculation and reframing could take away from the few facts you have:

The Fates had told you of an unfathomably long imprisonment that Morpheus had endured and suffered in.

So why was he putting you in a parallel of that?

How can someone who is supposed to be your soulmate be so unreadable to you, and so inexplicably cruel?

You curl into a ball, groaning out loud in frustration.

You ponder if there is something defective within you, if he can see something that you are too human to perceive. Maybe you deserve this on some level because you are not quite enough for him.

"No," you say out loud, firmly casting that contemptuous thought out of your mind.

You will not go in for self-loathing or self-pity. You are strong and capable and compassionate. Morpheus is still your soulmate. You can fix this. Once he's back, you will talk about this.

The resolution seems to lessen the lingering despair enough that you unwittingly fall asleep.

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

There's an anticipatory undercurrent to the chatter being passed back and forth across the circular tables spaced evenly across the function room.

You're sat at one such table, the hands folded in your lap occasionally brushing against the heavy dark blue velvet draped over the wood, the feel of the material's sumptuous pile triggering pleasant goosebumps.

Ice laden water jugs and bowls of savoury snacks occupy the middle of the table, and each seat is designated by a placeholder. Your name is displayed in a bold font across the folded piece of stiff card in front of you and the names of all your colleagues have been typed out on matching markers.

The lighting could be described as ambient, moody even - a strange choice for such a celebratory event. The strongest source of light is directed towards a projection screen, where the order of events are being presented.

You thumb the lock screen button on the right hand side of your phone to check the time. 20:28. The scheduled break is due to end soon. You take a sip of water from the tumbler stamped with your lipstick and wait.

The microphone on the podium clicks and crackles as it is brought back to life and all heads turn in unison towards the man standing there. A spotlight provided by the professional lighting rig suspended above is ignited, the light from it so bright that it obscures every feature on his face.

His tone is light as he reels off a few formalities, making a joke about the speed of which some individuals had headed to the bar come the start of the interval, eliciting a sequence of throaty laughs from the crowd. He then jumps back into the award giving.

"This person, I know for a fact has really been putting in the effort with developing the traits required to truly embody this accolade and everything it stands for. Taking gullible to the next level, allowing themself to be debased and shutting down all logical reasoning. A veritable inspiration of inconsequentiality; therefore, it comes as no surprise that the award for most worthless human goes to -"

He pauses for effect, and the entire room watches on with baited breath.

Condensation beads slip down the outside of the jug closest to you, mirroring a perspiration bead that has begun to slide from your nape. You look away from the stage, feeling an impending sense of doom slink into your stomach with the nausea that suddenly washes over you. Your intuition is well-founded.

The microphone wheezes as the man inhales the breath needed to deliver the announcement.

He says your name.

The applause that follows is rapturous; a chorus of hollers and whistles punctuating the clapping. It's like you're at a rock concert.

None of it aligns with the damning description of the award name. Under no circumstance do you want to go and accept it; doing so would show that you agree with the committee.

You sneak a glance over your shoulder, wincing at the harsh fluorescents spilling in from the foyer through the set of double doors - that is where you quietly need to get to.

You're pushing your chair back slowly and carefully, about to attempt this surreptitious exit when a spotlight hits you. The hand going for your bag freezes mid-reach.

It's as if a tractor beam has been activated. You cannot stop yourself from standing, cannot stop yourself from walking on the scuffed wooden floor, made that way from years of dancing.

The journey to the stage on your shaky legs is long, given your distance from it, intensified even further by the stares of your peers. You go up the steps at the side of the stage, jelly legs adding risk with the slight elevation. You grip the handrail in a white-knuckled fist.

The award waits on the podium: an oversized key on a black plinth, the golden colour of the metal glints temptingly. With your gaze turned downwards, the man shakes your hand with the pressure of a constrictor, praising you with words that you can't hear above the continued applause.

You force your mouth into a smile and ready yourself to take the award, telling yourself that being gracious is the best approach you can take.

Unfortunately, in your moment of acceptance, someone decides to take advantage.

There's a blow to the back of your knee caps.

You cry out from shock and pain; the sound doesn't last long for as soon as your knees make impact with the boards, a gag is forced into your mouth.

The situation and the gag make it hard to breathe in any way other than frantically, pulse just as agitated in your tight-feeling chest.

The crowd's clapping doesn't stop even as intricate restraints are added at your wrists, even as burning tears and sticky snot stream down your face.

The agony intensifies when you are hauled up by your hair and then herded by several pairs of hands towards the wings of the stage. Your eyes fall on the opaque box that stands just out of view of the crowd.

Its purpose is clear. It is to be your cage.

You're now screaming despite the gag, thrashing as you're dragged towards your doom. Not even allowing yourself to be a dead weight can save you; the cloying fingers are too numerous, too zealous.

The door to the cage opens and the presence of the oppressive void within ekes out towards you like a disturbing fog. Whatever is in there, you can sense it will smother you. Obliterate you slowly. And the people in this room seem to believe you are worthy of such a fate.

The hands anchored on your body begin their last pushes. You whip your head around, making a last attempt to search for an escape when you see a figure out the corner of your eye.

There's no questioning who it is; the person who has been on the periphery of so many dreams these past weeks, you would know him anywhere.

You see a glimpse of movement. Perhaps the raising of a hand. A ripple of power courses through the scene - you feel it vibrate in your chest. Everything freezes, and in that sudden silence you hear Morpheus' solemn and decisive words:

"This dream is over."

You startle, a shriek echoing about the sunless space as you are ripped from the dream. The sheets have you wrapped up like a python; you try with desperation to get free, half-convinced that those relentless hands are still trying to ferry you into that cage.

Floundering, you work and work against the fabric, crying out again when your progress is minimal.

"Soulmate."

Morpheus' deep voice sounds, speaking your name next in such an intimate and gentle way that you instantly halt in your struggle.

He is beside you.

All the attributes of concern are in his facial expression and body language, eyes glistening with an emotion you can't quite place.

"It is over now," he confirms, dissolving the sheet into nothing.

He comes closer, stroking your face with one hand, the other atop your chest with the palm centred on your soul. It's a welcome feeling, his attentions and being free from the tangle of sheets, but you are too far gone for it to stop the fear that the nightmare has set in motion.

"When you said that it was not my place to accompany you, is it because you think I'm less than you?" You ask in a cracking, pitiful voice.

Morpheus stills for a heartbeat, before bending his head to look you straight in the eyes. "No," he breathes. "My soulmate, I could never think that."

He kisses you softly.

It's not what you expected but nevertheless your hands cling to him on instinct, kissing him back and then he's suddenly straddling you. Covering your body with his own to give you a feeling of safety and it's exactly what you require.

You're on the verge of tears from it all, touching the back of his neck, gripping his shoulders to keep him close.

"Morpheus," you call.

"I am here. I am not going anywhere."

He kisses you deeper this time as if to corroborate his statement. It incrementally lessens your doubts and anxieties but there's a call for communication too.

"We need to talk about what happened," you say with quiet assertion.

For a moment, you wonder if he has even heard you for he claims your mouth again.

"I do not wish to talk," he eventually replies, immediately diving back in for yet another kiss. "I wish to take away your anguish."

"But -"

He hushes you, a soothing shut down that would be infuriating if not for the lingering unease of the nightmare clogging your emotions. "Let us forget what was said. Let us instead indulge in the pleasure of each other's bodies."

You blink, slowly processing his explicit inference, taken aback by the very obvious physical reactions they inspire. You force yourself to adopt a professional expression as your arousal begins to leak onto your gown.

"I want to talk to you."

He's smiling smugly as he tilts his head to the side. "Your emotions betray you dearest, as does your body. I know exactly what you want and it is not conversation."

Shame rises but is quickly blotted out by Morpheus' next action.

You feel bare skin against yours; he's used his power to disrobe you as well as him. A protest forms - he stifles it with his mouth. Your eyes are wide as you take it, as he shifts his weight ever so slightly to align your hips.

His own eyes stare you down after he pulls back, unblinking like an apex predator who has caught sight of its favourite prey.

Easy prey.

That's what you are.

He arranges you as such too; grasping your legs and moving your knees to your chest to bend you in half. Pinning you underneath him.

Neither of you last long with the tightness of the angle once you allow him to enter you.

To say you are dazed afterwards would be an understatement. The events of the past few hours have been persistently erratic. If Morpheus feels the same then it isn't apparent. The colour of his eyes are as clear and stable as the weather above, hand warming his favoured spot on your chest.

Your own hands wander up and down his body, running smoothly over his enticing skin.

"You have not touched your food," he comments quietly.

One of your palms moves absentmindedly to trail lazily across your abdomen. "If I'm being honest, I've been struggling to eat since I got here. For some reason I have no appetite or thirst."

"That would be a result of the immortality."

Your hands freeze up, brain doing the opposite as it spins out in a hundred directions.

"W-what did you say?" You stammer, praying you have misheard him.

"The immortality," he clarifies. "My power is within you and with it, comes certain endurances."

You sit up and put some space between you both. This was a serious matter. Despite your empty stomach you feel like you are going to vomit.

"How long have you known that?"

"It does not matter."

Red rag to a bull doesn't come close to covering what his dismissive reply makes you feel. The set of your jaw is so tight that a section on the left side begins to feather. You talk through gritted teeth, levelling a furious glare at him - making it transparent that you are not going to tolerate his evasiveness any longer:

"Tell me how long."

He makes the smart decision to pause to select his reply, though you decipher from the suddenly overcast sky that it is not going to be one that you will like.

"Since our souls joined."

Your hand flies to your chest, to your soul as tears start to brew.

"That was days ago!"

Morpheus simply looks at you.

"Did you not think that I had a right to know about something as life changing as that?"

He opens his mouth to respond but you cut him off before he can issue a syllable.

"Please can you give me some time alone?"

Morpheus' intense stare - the one that had gone from intimidating to exhilarating - has now become distressing and you need to get out from under it.

To his credit, he does what you asked and the moment the door is closed, the tears you have been holding back start to flow freely. The ceiling sky is so crowded with dark clouds that you are convinced that it's going to do the same as your eyes.

You feel like you've been tricked. You didn't ask for this, nor were you consulted.

The gilding has fully tarnished now, revealing that things were too good to be true. And had been from the very beginning. You had been swept up in the haze of sexual satisfaction, too blinded by the soul bond to see clearly. The nightmare had spelled it out flawlessly: gullible, debased and without logical reasoning.

The previous success in derailing your self-loathing falls short now. You are bolting down the path of internal admonishment.

How could you have been so naïve?

The answer is your hubris. It had felt good to be finally wanted, chosen to be a part of something bigger than yourself by making a difference to the Dreaming. Unless you had misunderstood.

No, the Fates had told you it in no uncertain terms. What they hadn't done however was provide a time frame. You had stupidly assumed it would be effective immediately. Instead you could be looking at decades, centuries even with this newfound information.

Even with the promise of eventual fulfilment, there was little chance that you would last for years in this room with your sanity intact.

You need distraction from the demoralising thought so you bluster through your bathroom routine like a whirlwind, slamming containers down where possible and huffing out exasperated sounds.

While the gown has re-materialised on the hook by the shower, you are dead set against putting it back on. You go to the bedside table and dive into the drawers to find your clothes from the night of the award ceremony, uncovering the cigarettes and lighter you forgot had been hidden there.

You don't even think before lighting one up, hoping that the nicotine will take the edge off your despair. You are quick to finish it and the clarity it brings encourages you to have a second. And then a third.

From the combination of your reclined position on the sheets and the dainty way you hold each cigarette, you can't help but feel like a 1940s starlet. It injects a bit of delirious humour, and also gumption into the mix.

"You are not at fault here," you whisper out loud. "He is the one who has an understanding of how soulmates work. He withheld that. You are allowed to be pissed off with him and you should let him see it."

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

By the time Morpheus returns, you are in full possession of your wits and sit perched at the foot of the bed. You regard each other; he appears a touch drawn out, eyes subdued and a small line marking the space between his eyebrows.

"You have been smoking," he states flatly.

Buoyed by the confidence gifted to you by said activity, you inhale the scent of the lingering bluish fog, flashing a sardonic smile as you audibly breathe out, labouring the point with the pleasurable sigh.

"What else was I supposed to do while I waited for you to come back?" You cross your legs and smooth out a non-existent wrinkle in the bedclothes you meticulously rearranged.

The effects of your sarcasm are immediate; the air is becoming ominously dense, threatening to unleash a storm of epic proportions. Morpheus' fists clench and the pressure is dampened a fraction.

"Give them to me," he asks in a monotone.

"No."

Your connection is so devoid of dissonance at this point. Morpheus is stone carved. The kind of impenetrable that would shred and destroy finger nails; there is no point in trying to claw your way to the being beneath. The apathy sends your anger to new heights, compelling that shamefully vindictive part of you into lashing out. You want to hurt him just as he has hurt you.

"They're the only thing I have left from my real life."

A lethal quality seeps into his reply, "That life ended the moment you stepped out onto that street."

"Well then I should have run from you that night," you provoke further, tone biting as glacial ice on exposed skin.

The same shadows from before are crowding about his person, settling in his eyes - a tell that you have unleashed the nightmare form. You have to actively remind yourself to breathe at an even pace. All things you had queued up to say to him are long gone as you gaze upon his dark majesty.

"Even if you had been able to evade me, hide your physical body, I would have found you the moment you fell asleep."

The tether on his control slips as a single bolt of lightning turns the room to a white-out. The thunder never comes, instead the rumble of his voice.

"Do not think that I had not anticipated a refusal. I was more than prepared to use force to get what I wanted. What I was promised. I will not share you with anyone. You are mine. My soulmate. You -"

He stops unexpectedly and head snapping to look at the door.

You roll your eyes. "Let me guess, something requires your attention."

He takes in a deep breath. "I will return shortly."

You watch sullenly as he leaves you behind yet again, about to resume smoking when you feel an urge to re-examine the door. It is as pointless as before; no handle nor locks. Your fists hit the mahogany once, then twice before your composure fully deteriorates and you begin to hammer on it. Not because you are hoping to snag someone's awareness, for you heard it from Morpheus that no one could find this place. Sadly, you do it because you are losing hope.

Dejection momentarily quelled, you resort to staring at the door with such concentration that you fear it may trigger another headache.

"How the fuck do you work?" You ask it.

If there is no tangible way of holding it then that left the metaphysical as its locking mechanism. Metaphysical power that came from him - that now resided in you.

Maybe you could use it to break out...

You huff out a laugh at your optimism. There is no harm in trying.

Decision made, you make a quick trip to the bathroom to get the ruby ring you put by the sink. There's no chance you're escaping and leaving a beloved family heirloom behind.

You walk confidently to the door and plant yourself a forearm's length from it. The gold of the ring glimmers on your right hand as your press your palm to the glossy wood.

You do not want to be the person you were in the nightmare; forced into a box-encased void and cut off from the universe. You want to learn, to experience, to love. You want to have dreams and you're willing to make them with or without their master.

You are going to get out of here.

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

Tag list: @herfantasyworldd @kpopgirlbtssvt @littleblackcatinwonderland @1950schick @lollipopsandlandmines

"I'm walking down the line that divides me somewhere in my mind. On the borderline of the edge, and where I walk alone."

[simsim54]

Simon has passions, hobbies, and interests. Wilhelm has Simon.

I said what I said.

[pandorascripts]

I absolutely love your writing. I can ask for a yandere wednesday with a fem reader who is innocent and doesn't realize wednesday obsession, and when the reader try goes on date wednesday stops her

Ruins

warnings: yandere, obsession, mention of xavier thrope (I hate that man sm).

pairing: yandere!wednesdayaddams x reader

summary: wednesday cant stand the thought of someone tainting you before her, so when xavier tries to do it before she can, wednesday snaps. note: this is one the shorter side, maybe more of a drabble, but it’s one am and I’m a wee bit tired :^)

——————

Love. It was a truly odd thing when putting it out of context. If Wednesday told someone that she’d like to ruin you, taint you, break you down until you were as dark and deprived as herself, Wednesday would find herself in quite the unfortunate predicament. But if she was to say she loved you, wanted to show you everything she could do to you that would take away what most men find attractive in a woman — that being her virginity — people would surely agree, maybe event applaud her for the behavior. After all, it was similar to a man’s desire to ruin whatever he could get his hands on. 

Then again, there was something about your naiveness that had Wednesday melting like butter for you. The way you simply didn’t understand that her love for you was brutal, and dark, and completely wrong in the minds of normal people. Although, Wednesday never was truly normal, was she?

As she held your hand in hers, her mind raced with many different possibilities of how tonight could go. She could destroy you, make it so you could only ever dream of her touch, but she could also simply enjoy your innocence. Wednesday chose the latter, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t test it. She thought of ways to ask you on a date, to finally let you know of her love for you, but that all flew out the window at your next words. 

“Xavier asked me out,” you stated, shrugging as if it wasn’t a  big deal. 

Wednesday tensed, every part of her body trembled as she gritted her teeth. Why was Xavier nearing you? You were hers, Xavier had no right to touch her property. God, how she hated thieves. 

“You okay, Wednesday?” you asked, gently squeezing her hand. 

She shuddered. “Don’t go out with him. He’s a waste of your valuable time and simply a waste of space.”

You frowned, gaze returning to the packed halls of Nevermore. “Well, I dunno, he’s got some good traits, right? Like, he’s cool at art, and he’s not a total jerk —“

Wednesday cut you off, practically seething. “You will not be going on a date with him. My decision is final.”

She felt your hand slipping out of hers, a confused look plastered on your face. Wednesday scanned your features, realizing it wasn’t confusion at all. It was fear. Wednesday had made you scared of her. 

Desperate to save herself, she muttered some half-assed excuse. “Xavier’s only using you to get over Bianca. They have always had an on and off thing, and I just cant bear to see you hurt.”

You gulped sadly, nodding your head. Wednesday sighed, your hand was back in hers, right where it should be. 

A moment of silence passed between you two before you broke it. “Thanks, Wednesday.”

She nodded. “Of course.”

Wednesday looked down in shock, her shoulder gaining extra weight. There laid your head perfectly on her. She sighed, her eyes fluttering closed. Wednesday took in the smell of your vanilla perfume, the  scent completely intoxicating her and making her even more mad. She let out a heavy breath once more, moments like these were amazing. Just the peacefulness, and her desire growing along with her insanity. Not a single worry slipped through Wednesday’s mind. Only love for you, and everything you loved, swirled around her brain. 

Wednesday sighed. She’d played with the naïve part of you for too long. People were starting to get bold, and she couldn’t have thieves ruining you. Not when she so desperately needed to do it first. Wednesday was going to absolutely destroy you, and she decided that it was going to be very soon. 

[into-crazy]

destiny’s masterlist♡

• ° ❁ • ° ❁ ° • ❁ ° • ❁

Hello there~ Here, you can find all of my published works wrapped into one list!! I'll be sure to keep it updated as I go along. Thank you for reading!! Enjoy~

I currently have works for the following characters: TDK Joker, Arthur Fleck/Joker, Pennywise(2017), Johnny Abbot, and Negan Smith.

Works containing NSFW/SMUT material are marked with **

Joker - The Dark Knight

More to the Madness - Joker x Female Reader series // details within**

horror and chill - one shot // You and J watch a scary movie.. you don't finish it**

tender - drabble // You're self-conscious about the small size of your breasts, J assures and comforts you in his own way.

pussy is mine - one shot // The Joker is feeling extra possessive and gets you off in front of his henchmen**

juicy - drabble // You share a mango cup with J.

dance for you - one shot // You sing and dance to dirty songs. J catches you, then you dance for him.

nights like this - drabble // You snuggle with J.

Headcanons

J and a female s/o with long hair**

J and a s/o that plays video games

little something - J gifts you stilettos

short girl problems - J and a short s/o

Being intimate with J on your period**

spending your birthday with J

❧

Arthur Fleck/Joker - Joker

Man Under the Makeup - AF/Joker x Female Reader series // details within**

comforting touches - drabble // Joker is there to help relieve your pms pains.

soft soothing love - drabble // You rub some lotion on Arthur's hands.

no better love - one shot // You start to question if you're good enough for Joker, to which he reminds you that you are**

lace and cigarettes - drabble // Joker watches you dance, which leads to something steamy**

be my valentine - drabble // Valentine’s day with Arthur.

Headcanons

dress stays on - You wear a pretty dress**

AF/Joker and female s/o with long hair**

❧

Pennywise - IT (2017)

Derry's Secret - Pennywise x Female Reader series // details within**

Bob Gray nsfw thoughts - drabble**

Headcanons

celebrating your birthday with Pennywise

Pennywise and a reader that owns a cat

❧

Johnny Abbot - Sweet Tooth

Headcanons

dating Johnny Abbot would include

❧

Negan Smith - The Walking Dead

❧

don't wanna miss a thing - AU!Negan Smith x Female Reader series // details within

hot tub surprise - one shot // You sneak over into Negan's backyard to surprise him in his hot tub**

I do not own the photos attached here and in each piece but they have been edited by me unless stated otherwise

[teresalace]

"I won't cry for you" - Yandere Tyler Gaplin x Female Reader (this is my first dark fic🥺) PART 1

PART 2

source: Netflix show- Wednesday

Words: 3340

Warning: Mentions of blood, psychological.

• my note: I haven't watched the show 👀 so this is just me writing whatever I felt could be possibly true from the few articules I've read. Hope everyone can enjoy this last braincell of mine writing this 😤 my holiday is still going on! SHOUT OUT TO MY WRITER SISTER- HMUE LAY. Please guys be patient for part 2 💖☺️ much appreciated for the tips too!!

Summary: Life used to be perfectly normal until you got word of your mother, Laurel Gates (Professor Thornhill), being detained somewhere private after the big event at Nevermore Academy. Now, all alone, it was up to you to take care of things at home and act every bit of what a distraught kid would look like. But you couldn't sit back and do nothing, especially with knowing your mother's 'pet' wasn't going to be taken good care of in prison. You were going to do something and tie some loose strings, like mother like daughter.

____

"Last one." The silvery shine of a pair of tweazers as it releases a small insect into the spiky open mouth of a Venus flytrap, was more self-soothing than you thought as you placed the tool down. "I'll be back after a few days, I promise. So make sure to miss me," you whispered to them, lightly brushing your fingertips over the skin of the plants like your mother would.

Among the cluster of exotic plants your mother had grown at home, You lovingly watched your favourite, the last Venus flytrap snap Its leafy mouth shut before you left the house with strapped on bags. Feeding times were fun and all but you were running out of time, it's the house gardener's turn to look after the plants now.

Speedily, you rushed off towards the forest once outside and zipped your jacket up fully while shivering in the freezing cold wind of the night. You lowered your head and kept walking fast.

Hopefully no one saw or recognized you in the streets though you doubt anyone would, it's a small pilgrim world in this town and staying vigilant is key to not look suspicious.

Looking back in the direction of your home, you gave a final whisper to your dearest pet plants. "Sorry guys, mama isn't going to be coming back anytime soon. But rest assured, I will." If you didn't get killed. . . . Maybe hours had passed by with every crunch of dead leaves beneath your shoes, but you weren't sure and you didn't want to waste your cellphone battery by checking the time. You knew where to go and you had to hurry, who knows if the Hyde would be relocated by the time you arrive there.

The beaming of the full moon illuminated through the woods and guided you towards a familiar hiding place, a discernable cave where mother's emergency car hid in. And you held the very keys to it, in hand.

Maybe you've underestimated the amount of times it would take to power up the engine of an old semi-used car, but still you persisted in driving the mungy brown thing out of town and you did, as soundlessly as possible in the dead of night.

And as much as you could manage to nagivate your way through the woods with having the car headlights lead the way, it was more than difficult to track down the path of where the prison van went. Especially knowing it's been almost half a day since that van took off to god-knows-where.

Throwing sidelong glances here and there out in the moonlit dark, you finally slowed the car down after passing by enough thick trees and unfamiliar shrubs to know you were most likely near the intersection.

What actually made you stop the car were the bright strips of orange fabric scattered across the asphalt road in the direction of the woods, not too noticable at first glance but you were pleased to find a clue so early on to where mother's pet had gone.

Like breadcrumbs leading you on the right path, you left your car, pocketing a flashlight in case of emergency, and followed the pieces of fabric as they grew smaller in size and sparse into the forest.

Nevermind the fear of getting lost as your heart shook inside of you the farther you walked from the car, the chill of the biting wind barely calmed your body heating up the moment you spotted splotches of something like blood on the forest ground. You were close, you felt it.

Then you heard it, among the sounds of the night-critters and chripping grasshoppers, a heavy rugged breathing was unmistakably ahead. With a shivering pulse, you slowly stepped towards the area, turning behind a tall tree and saw a shirtless person laid there against the bark.

Eyes shut, disheveled curly hair, long scratches across his face that seemed to be covered in dark liquid, while his chest heaved for air. In the pale moonlight where anything and anyone could disappear, was Tyler Gaplin.

You found him.

It would've been nicer if you had brought a miniature pillow to wake the guy up with but your boots will do the trick for now. So you gave a light kick against his leg, once, twice until giving up at the lack of response.

You crouched near him to whisper, careful to avoid touching the ground and protecting your zippered jacket. "If you're awake you should get up, I'm not going to carry you all the way to the car." No answer.

"I should've expected this. . ." You mumbled.

It would've been better for you to discover him dead but he got lucky. Really lucky. Looks like you'll have to do this the hard way. You pulled back the sleeves of your jacket and grabbed the ankles of the guy, slowly and gently, lugging him across the ground, all the while avoiding branches and rocks where his head could hit. . . .

His heavy body easily slumped like a spinless leaf in the backseat of your car when you didn't bother to try readjusting his position, but you were already out of breath from dragging him the whole time.

Plus the blackseat was now dirtied by him but you weren't going to charge him, even though you should, considering how much easy he made it for you to find him. (Though he could've made things easier if he just disappeared but. . . You'll take what you can get)

Sure he'll deal with a sore neck or back but it wasn't your problem to deal with, you aren't a charity case after all. Only cleaning up the mess your mother made.

You momentarily stretched your back before getting in the driver's seat to drive, glancing often in the rear view mirror at the unconscious body showing no signs of awakening.

Good, you just needed some time before reaching the next town; Waterbury.

Little did you know then that from behind you, a pair of dark green eyes were awake and watching your every move.

. . .

Luckily for you, the dimly lit streets of Waterbury were barren and your job was made much easier to drive your car into the driveway of mother's second house.

It was convenient timing, you admit, that she had thought ahead and prepared a 'hideaway' place a year prior before the start of the new school year at Nevermore Academy. . . For what purpose? It wasn't in your interest to find out, mother does what she wants and so do you.

Now onto the second easiest task; to carry the unconcious bloody guy inside the house before anyone could see you two in the cover of darkness. Your arms ached in memory of the intense labour earlier, surely there must be another way of getting things done.

You stepped closer to the car window, wrapping your arms around your sides, peering inside with sharp eyes.

After examining his unmoving face and soft breathing pattern from outside, you guessed he must be fairly awake by now. You leaned your hip against the cold backseat cardoor, the bags strapped onto you weighing a ton on your bones as you lowered your voice to a no-nonsense level where he should be able to hear.

"Are you just going to keep sleeping? If you could, it'd be nice to give some answers to someone who's helping you and maybe walk yourself into your new home." Trying to sound friendly while still being on edge was the hardest task of the day when in reality you wanted to kick him awake but you gave him a couple more seconds to take in what you said.

The initial silence made you gave up and just as you were about to leave him in the car, a muffled groan came from the guy.

". . . What?" A weak, hoarse answer followed behind a slow opening of eyelids. The guy groggily blinked at you like someone who went through the most exhausting series of events.

Which was great. You didn't expect much to begin with so this response was a good enough start.

"Listen to me very carefully, I am trying to help you," technically you are, "my house is right Infront of us and we need to get you inside, immediately," while it's still dark out. You then pointed to your eyes, staring straight into his, now wide awake, "please blink twice if you understand, sir."

He took in a coarse breath and blinked hard at you, slowly moving his body from lying on the backseat.

"I–I understand," the guy said softly, now sitting as upright as he possibly could while keeping his head down. For a split second you hesitated as your fingers curled over the backseat door handle, his meek behaviour surprised you and at worst, gave you the chills. But you dismissed it, not wanting to overthink anything for this week's clean-up. Plus, you think he realized quick that he has no where else to go.

Truth be told, it was nice to enjoy the silence. No compliants whatsoever when you roughly directed him towards the house door, he walked himself inside, sluggish and zombie-like tired and looked around warily at his new environment as you closed the door.

Flipping on the living room lights, you were hugely relieved to see not a single speck of dust in every mahongy corner, of course mother wouldn't allow any place she owns to become messy. On the flip side, once your sweeping gaze settled on a guy's dirt streaked back, more work piled up in your brain. Great, just when you thought you could rest.

You cleared your throat slightly to get his distracted attention, "I'll go get a first aid kit, are you okay with me treating your. . . Injuries?"

He turned around fully, glancing down at you with a neutral, melancholic expression. "Uh, sure." You waited again incase he'd give another input but he stayed quiet, zoning out. It was obvious his mind was nowhere near present even when his body stood there still infront of you.

A part of you itched with curiousity at the monster in human clothing, usually a normie like you wouldn't have ever gotten the chance to have a face-to-face session with an outcast so this was the closest experience you were getting. In the flesh.

Before you went off to find said first aid kit, you intentionally snapped your fingers in a audible click to bring the guy back to earth. "Oh, feel free to continue sleeping or sit wherever you'd like, no one else is here except for you and me. So just make yourself at home," you said lazily, brushing the debris and pieces of dirt off your clothes on the floor mat. This house may as well be his new home since he can't go back to Jericho. Maybe he knew this too.

At your words, he slumped on the large couch and looked as worn out as a used car tire except covered in dried blood and long scratches. It would be better if you didn't ask where he got those wounds from, the last thing you need right now was more messes to clean up. "I'll be right back," you chriped from the stairs and plopped your bags in one of the empty bedrooms. The first aid kits are always located under the beds but you didn't reach for them right away, instead, you shutaway yourself in the bathroom and discreetly called the housekeeper/gardener from home to tell them the change of plans in your duration.

"I'll be back in 2 to 3 weeks time." You whispered into the cellphone receiver, "if and when mother arrives home before me, tell her I found a new interest or something believable that has to do with plant species. I'm counting on you." You hung up fast on the conglomerate of unhappy nosies before you could hear the proper nagging take place.

Now it was your turn to be unhappy and act like you care. You glimpsed at the red bag peeking out from under your new bed, time to play nurse. . . .

When you headed down the stairs, you spotted the guy staring out the only unblinded window. He didn't say a word and neither did you as you unzipped the red first aid kit and using a clean cloth, wiped his exposed upper body of grim and dirt and. . .

Minutes flied by like this, you disinfecting and then bandaging him up in a kindof decent sling while he stayed still and spaced out the entire time, hardly knowing if he's in pain or not from your inexperienced nursing.

Only when you were finished did he show a silver of movement and emotion.

"This town. . . Isn't Jericho." He spoke up first, voice less hoarse and more certain in something. Almost sounding relieved yet mournful.

All you did was nod as he fell dead asleep right there on the couch.

. . .

The morning after took too long to arrive, when you've already made a small plan in mind to ensure the hyde wouldn't become a problem in the future.

The days went by a grueling slow pace, full of watching a guy adjust to living in an unfamiliar house and spending most of the day inside his room excluding his walk to the fully stocked kitchen for food and staring out the window while you were out and about doing research on his issue. There weren't any pockets of time where both you and him could meet until you finally decided to take a break from overloading your brain and crashed onto the couch unceremoniously.

What you didn't expect to see next were a pair of dark green eyes peering down at you with a scarred face more lively and less pale. You raised an eyebrow, making no more attempts to be friendly outside of necessity, "do you want something?"

"Yeah, to ask a question. . . I mean, more than just one question," he said in a casual tone. You noticed he was wearing layered clothing, a jacket over another on top of a collared shirt, it's good he took the 'make yourself at home' phrase literally so you didn't have much else to do for him.

That brightened your mood and eased away the tiredness in your body.

"Then feel free, Galpin," you patted the seat beside you for him to sit, which he did before visibly tensing up.

"I never told you my name–"

"Tyler Galpin. Who hasn't heard of the sheriff's kid?" You didn't mean to but ended up cutting him off, and adding in a shrug as if to say it was dumb of him to ask.

"Right. . . " His shoulders sagged though not enough to indicate he was relaxed, you don't blame him one bit. He looked troubled but that wasn't in your business, you already played nurse to him so playing therapist was exceeding your limits.

Wait, wasn't he about to ask you something? You guessed it's probably about the town.

You crossed your legs, making sure there was distance between him and you. "If you're worried about being found out here, don't be. It's a small town but shouldn't be hard to keep secrets." As long as he kept a low profile and changed his identity, it can't be too hard.

Tyler swallowed, your gaze lingered on the thin scratch marks across his forehead and check, while knitting his brown eyebrows and listening. "Okay, I guess you're right," he sighed lowly, fingers interlinked over his knees, he looked as if he was distracting himself. Hopefully he ran out of questions because you were out of energy to use on him.

"I just . . . Wanted to know how are things in Jericho." He paused shortly to take in a shaky breath, "is my dad doing alright?" He looked like he probably wanted to ask something else but thought it through and decided not to.

Good decision on his part since no one else except for Nevermore students should know about the. . . Monster situation. It's better if possible that he doesn't find out you knew about him.

"Quiet and busy as usual, the school semester's ended," you deadpanned, "I'm not too friendly with sheriff Galpin but last I heard– the bear attacks have become a huge problem so there's a community alert going on." Bear attacks that he was responsible for.

Tyler's steady gaze never wavered once during the length you spoke, he only nodded and thanked you. At this point in time, as you stared at him, a lone boy, something inside of you began to fester and confusion clouded your mind.

Like some lost animal you had brought into your home to give shelter to, you aren't planning to stay any longer than necessary to befriend or grow attached to him. . . Yet the idea of watching over his 'progress' and hopefully pushing him towards leading a normal life sounded enticing.

You may have been staring for long too or too intensely at Tyler when he waved an open hand Infront of his face. "Uh, you. . . Okay?"

Blink. You blinked again, refocusing on his expression showing slight concern. "I got lost in my thoughts." Not wasting another second, you stood up from the couch, "bye then, Galpin."

There wasn't much to talk about in the first place and you wanted an excuse to avoid spending more time with him, he wasn't a house plant, he can eat, sleep and entertain himself without your help. That's right, you could finally rest again.

The moment you were about to leave, you felt a strong tug behind you. He stopped you by grabbing onto the hem of your blouse. "Hey, wait."

And so you did, turning your head around slowly towards him expectantly. "Yes?" You say in a nice and polite tone. Hoping this wouldn't be a waste of your time.

"Uh– I wanted to say thanks. I don't know what would've happened to me in those woods if you hadn't helped me, thank you. . ." He trailed off his sentence almost welcoming you to input something, like your name. But why would you? He doesn't need your name to survive.

Maybe it would have been better to tell him straight off that you weren't helping him for his own sake. . . But the opportunity to play a new role you've been eyeing for a long time felt too good to pass up. The savior.

For once a genuine smile popped up on your face as you looked into his shaded emerald eyes, "not a problem, Galpin. Glad I could help." Truly, maybe you did mean those words in the moment but you couldn't tell when your heart was beating intensely with excitement.

Before he could let go of the edge of your blouse, like some instinct unlocked in you and your hand automatically reached for his. Warmly caressing the top of his hand for a second as he released his grip, there was a strange twitch in his brows in reaction but you noted that he didn't move away.

No point in you sticking around after he's said his piece. So you smiled while your good mood was still present and went up the stairs. "Night, Galpin."

He didn't respond until you were already at the top of the stairs. "Yeah. . . Goodnight." He appeared, well, sounded to you, like some wounded animal reminded of their past. Or that could've been your imagination but you thought he sounded shaken.

That made sense, he probably still needs time to settle here. You nodded to yourself.

Figures. You knew he had no one else to rely on except a stranger, you, whose name he didn't even know. And the fact he saw you in a positive light felt. . . Good, similar to the same feeling you'd get from feeding your dear plants back home.

As you laid down on your bed, in your room which was next to Tyler's, a thought came across your head before sleep took over.

You were nothing like your mother, in most aspects. At least that's what you'd think.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Perv!Xavier Thorpe~Headcanon

warning : minors don't read/interact, dark theme, obsession, obsessive thoughts, obsessive love, yandere behavior, yandere thoughts, stealing your things, use of Y/n one time, implied kidnapping (if you read it closely), one-sided attraction, mention of (m) masturbation, true love, implied mental health problems, drawing you naked without your consent, little comfort, fluff

Part. 2

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

°What was supposed to be a new school year like any other was for the artist one that changed his whole life. Since he was on the school grounds, the rumour about Wednesday, a serial killer and creepy new girl, had spread around the school. But when another car parked next to the black old one, his eyes settled on it.

°When the passenger door opened he saw you and as if he was completely blind he saw only you. My muse he thought and his hand closed tighter around the stone railing from where he watched the students. Saw the sun illuminate you in just the right light. Saw your smile as you hugged your mother, as you spoke to her and let your gaze wander over the academy.

°Everything about you drew him in like a drug. Everything about you, whether it was your look, your voice, your body, your being, everything about you was the most beautiful and precious thing he had in his shattered world. And he would be the first to claim you. He would be the only one after all this time he had finally found his muse.

°He watched you say goodbye to your mother before grabbing your bag and suitcase and heading for the school entrance. Hastily he pushed himself off the railing and made his way to you. You were looking at the courtyard when you heard a voice next to you. ,,Pretty old, isn't it?" he said and his green-brown eyes went to yours. He could have got lost in your gaze.

°You were only more beautiful and flawless than from afar. He felt his fingers close around the pencil in his jacket pocket. He felt how he wanted to be even closer to you. He felt how he wanted to paint you, to explore more of you. He had never felt anything like this before, but this attraction seemed to give his life meaning.

°He saw you watching him for a moment and he would be lying if he said he didn't like it. ,,Yeah right but I kinda like it...I'm Y/n King" she introduced herself and held her hand out to him. His heart beat faster. He had only known you for about five minutes and already you seemed to want him as much as he wanted you. He returned the gesture and felt your warm soft skin under his fingers. ,,I'm Xavier. Xavier Thorpe" he replied and saw the small birthmark on your middle finger and wondered if you had more of them on your body.

°How would you look under that uniform? His thoughts ran amok as he went from one erotic pose to another. You needed to model for him, he needed to hold you. Needed you on his canvas. How would you react to that? Anticipation arose inside him before he offered to show you around. And you agreed. But all the time his eyes were on you, taking in everything they got.

°As he continued to lead you around the academy, holding on to your emotions. How you looked amazed or even completely fascinated at the old tree in the middle of the playground. Before you stopped in front of its picture with the ravens. ,,That's beautiful" he heard her say and saw her fingers tracing the picture a few centimetres from the wall. You are perfect he thought and he felt his heart beat faster when he saw how her eyes seemed to admire his art with fascination.

°He stepped closer to her before placing his hand over hers, cautiously, to test if she would let him. But she did, looking at him curiously and slightly confused. ,,I drew this...here look" he said calmly before using his powers to make the birds fly. Before he moved his hand and asked her to hold out her finger. ,,Wow, Xavier, that's incredibly beautiful!" she exclaimed in fascination as she watched him guide the raven onto her finger.

°The artist let the bird nestle against her hand before slowly directing the drawing back to the wall. ,,I'm glad you like it," he said, unable to hide the slight blush that crept into his cheeks. She looked at the picture one last time before he escorted her to her room. ,,Thanks again Xavier" and was about to close the door when she seemed to consider. ,,Wait a minute," she said hastily before taking out a small writing pad and grabbing a pen.

°Xavier watched her write something down before she blew on the paper and the leaves spun faster than they should have before the paper formed a flower. ,,Here's a little thank you...you're not the only one who can create something beautiful" she said with a wink and handed him the flower that blossomed in his hand. You are the flower...blossoming beautiful at my side he thought and carefully and gently stroked the single paper blossoms that slowly turned to a dark purple. You had a wonderful gift, he found. You were a muse and an artist at the same time.

°He thanked you before going back to his own room where he placed the flower on his desk. His fingers slowly stroked over the blossoms and he wandered dreamily in his thoughts to you. She understands me...she gives me what I need he thought and decided to think of a plan. Something that would bring him closer to you. He needed-no, he desired-more of you. More of your personality, more of your praise, more of your body. More of your inspiration. More of the calm you had on him.

°A few days passed in which not only the new school year began but in which he continued to observe you. He painted whenever he could, giving himself as many facts and rumours as he could get from Enid while disappearing more and more often into his little studio. At night to protect the darkness. The darkness that left him alone with his imagination. But the more he drew you, the more he took you out of the picture and touched you. The more his greed for you seemed to increase.

°Whenever he touched his drawing, his emotions ran away with him. They were too strong for him to concentrate on the painting, which caused you to dissolve into colour. ,,Don't worry...I'll get you eventually" he murmured as he looked back at the painting. Where you were looking under a tree and smiling at him while in your hand was your notepad.

°As he looked at the centrepiece of his collection next to the endless paintings and drawings. A t-shirt of yours that you had left at the lake when you went swimming with Bianca and the other mermaids. It turned out you were a poor swimmer and wanted to improve your skills. He could still feel himself sitting as innocently as possible against a tree and pretending to enjoy nature.

°But the tug on his groin and the way his hands traced your body fibre-like in his sketchbook. When you were standing there in just your bikini, it almost drove him mad. The sun shone perfectly on you, making him see all the drops of water flowing over your skin. How they disappeared into your cleavage and ran down your belly. He wanted to touch himself, to pleasure himself. See if you would see him. See what you would do. Would you dump him...or even help him? A shaky sigh came over his lips and it took him some effort not to jump into the lake and swim to you as well.

°But he didn't, he kept his composure and continued to watch you for a while before he gave you a slight wave before he was sure that no one was watching you. As quickly as necessary he hurried to the t-shirt you had left behind and slipped into a bathrobe instead. That's how your property came into his possession. Just one of many things. And even though it was in the wooden shed, it still smelled of you. Sweet and fruity like a flower.

°A slight redness crept onto his cheeks as he thought of how many times he had jerked off with the T-shirt in his hand. How he had suppressed his moans, gasps and whimpers with the fabric. How often he had wished you would touch him like this. It was his goal to finally have you, his new work of art.

°And to achieve this he only had to lure you here and take what he wanted. Your whole being. His fingers gripped the brush in his hand tighter as he looked at the picture of you one last time and then at your shirt before he turned off the light bulb and closed the door behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[ficzhub]

Well Then…

Chapter 1

X

"Is there any particular reason that you can't stand spending any time with me?" I ask finally after an excruciatingly awkward and silent dinner over Zoom. Wondering why my father just couldn't be bothered to see me. Not when I got into Nevermore, not when I got my first award for my art, not when Tyler and his shithead friends assaulted me and I was in the hospital with internal bleeding after they vandalized my mural, not when I and everyone else at school almost died last month because a psychopathic herbology teacher decided to reanimate her bigot pilgrim great-grand daddy.

"Please Xavier, can I be spared the dramatics? I've been very busy, you know this." He says, not even bothering to look up at the camera.

"Clearly, for the last ten years or so." I don't know what I did wrong. My older sisters got time with him.

"Enough with the snide commentary. If all you wanted to do on this call was chide me, this could've been done over text. At the very least that wouldn't have pushed back rehearsals." He whines

"What do you even need rehearsals for, oh Great and Talented Vincent Thorpe?"

"Talent isn't perfection. I hope you take that to heart, winning a handful of trinkets passed off as awards isn't enough to prove any kind of prowess at anything."

I can't help but roll my eyes at that. He wouldn't know what awards I have or haven't gotten, he's never seen them.

"Speaking of lack of prowess, your grandfather will be taking you back to school after the break is done in a few days." His voice coated in derision.

"What?"

"Your mother's father, not mine."

Well no shit, he's dead. "How come?"

"If this is another tirade about how it's traumatizing that I'm not holding your hand at all times-".

"Jesus dad, I just mean how come he's coming around? He hasn't been around much since Mom...you know." He cringed at the sentence, my mother is one of his father's least favorite subjects.

"Oh, I'm not sure. I didn't ask."

"Okay, thanks for letting me know."

"You're welcome. Now, I can't push back production anymore. Your report card was fine, you've been keeping your nose clean at school as far as I know and you ended up being some kind of hero last semester. Good on you for that, son. Anything else I should know about?" He asks uninterestedly

"Nope, you're pretty much caught up."

"Alright. I'll be putting some money in your account for school supplies and whatnot. Don't over do it, like last year..." he says still remembering how much I spent on Bianca "Make sure to call your grandfather and iron out your plans with him. Have a good night." He says and hangs up.

"Good night dad..." I say to a blank screen. I close my laptop and sigh. What did I expect?

I take my plate to the kitchen and clean it off to put in the dish washer. Staying alone at the manor always feels lonely. My father got us a maid but it feels so uncomfortable to have a strange woman washing my underwear and replacing my bedsheets or anything else for me. I'd rather just do it myself. She can busy herself sweeping and mopping or something, it's not like she pays me any mind.

I'll call Grandpa Ron tomorrow, I don't feel like talking to anyone. Well, there's one person, I haven't talked to her since my last day at school.

I can't even begin to wrap my head around what I should feel about Wednesday. Obviously she's not an easy person to deal with, she's selfish, manipulative and abrasive, but she's never pretended she's not. It's not like I didn't know to expect that. She's also brave, loyal and apparently fiercely protective. I don't wanna push my luck with her and make her feel suffocated, I wonder if the phone was too much. I send her a single text the day I got back home. Just a simple "See you when term starts." It hadn't marked at delivered, so either she never turned on the phone or she let it die. I wish I could go to therapy about all this but Wednesday's ex boyfriend killed her so, I'm shit outta luck with that. I haven't found another one near enough to school or home. I can't imagine I'd have an easy time building trust with them if I did anyway. New one might just die on me like the last.

That was crass.

Obviously Kinbott's murder wasn't about me, and her dying was senseless. Like that dick just wanted another body under his belt or Thornhill just felt like killing someone that day. Who knows, but I couldn't ignore that her death while tragic, really sucked for me.

I should just get my supplies and toke up. It's not like my dad would ever know and the help doesn't care one way or the other cause I don't leave a mess. I ran up to the studio and took my stuff out. The stash was still fresh from when I bought some with Ajax from some townie.

Keeping the puff in my lungs for as long as I can, I starts prepping my canvas...

This was a good idea. It had been a while since I'd let myself take a break from my own thoughts.

I painted Bianca. Her bright eyes and dark skin popping from each other. I still had so many unanswered questions about her. Seems minor compared to all the other things that have happened, but it's not nothing. I can't remember much right after meeting her. Getting coffee at the Weathervane before that asshole had gotten a job there and she was there too. We'd gotten the same coffee order and I accidentally grabbed hers. We'd cracked a few jokes with each other and exchanged numbers. Then suddenly I'm in a total fog and she's admitted into Nevermore. I'm paying for all her school supplies, and I don't remember offering, or her asking. Then I'm back to normal, we're chatting, she's joining clubs, making friends, we're bonding over our shared experience in neglectful or abusive parents, then I'm in a fog again and she's Ms.Popularity and we're Nevermore's Power Couple. When Divina told me what had happened after her and Bianca got into an argument, things cleared up. I didn't enjoy breaking up with her, I did care about her. I didn't wanna get her in trouble or kicked out of school either, it's not like she didn't deserve to be there. But I couldn't stand that I'd been manipulated for months. Am I really that bad of a judge of character? I mean, I had Tyler pegged right, but that one was hard to miss considering I'd tasted his shoe and one of his friends almost made my testicles reascend. I never really told Wednesday the whole truth, maybe if I had she'd have gotten it sooner. Violence isn't an issue to her, but bigotry never seemed her style. I partly blame myself for not being entirely honest with her all because I didn't wanna seem like a pussy. Maybe I deserved what happened. The beating, Wednesday ignoring me, the imprisonment, all of it. I could've prevented so much of it.

I'm spiraling. Maybe I should go to bed but painting was supposed to get this off my chest. This? What do I mean this? I wanna talk about a million things, there is no this. Shit maybe I can just text Wednesday's phone number. Kinbott's got disconnected so I get back that error message. Or worse, it could be reassigned to someone new, then I'm just traumadumping on some poor stranger who's probably got their own shit going on. What if they get confused and think they did something to me? What if they actually end up being someone I know that coincidentally got assigned the old number? They could trace back the texts to me if they already have my number. I'd never live it down. I know Wednesday clearly isn't using the phone, so no harm no foul.

W

"I'm so glad to hear that Wednesday!" My mother said emphatically, gently clapping her hands together.

"We knew you'd love it at Nevermore, Tormentita." Gomez brags "The flesh never falls far from the bone." as he continues his chess match with Thing.

"Yes well, it's not as if any other school in the country would admit me or be able to instruct me of anything new or useful to me. Why waste anyone's time." Not relishing in proving my parents right, I start walking up towards my bedroom.

"Darling, I suppose now would be as good a time as any to inform you of some new developments if you're set in returning." Mother says with my back to her.
Turning around I see her looking at my father.
"Mon cher, this is more your news than it is mine. You should tell Wednesday."

My father checkmates Thing and smirks "You almost had me old man. Next time."
Thing shrugs and hops off to reach his magazine.
Facing me he rubs his hands together "Do you remember your Aunt Dolores?" He asks

"Vaguely. She's not much older than me, but she was always busy with school."

"That's right, she's 25." My mother adds "She got her master's degree in phytology. Of course that was basically a formality, she's always known everything she'd ever need about plants."

"I still don't understand how she came to be. Mama Esmeralda and Papa Pancho must've been in their 50s when they had her, at the earliest." I ponder out loud.

"Oh both sides of your family have had abnormally long periods of fertility, Wednesday. Your Great-Grandmama Margaret, had my aunt Celia at 56 years old. Completely baffled the local doctor." Mother adds gleefully.

"Anyway, I bring this up because we've been notified that your Aunt Dolores will be joining you at Nevermore."

"How did that happen?"

"Well, as you know she had that big spat with my parents and ran off when she turned 15. She never really got to experience much time at that school, and despite everything she did love it so there. It was truly a pity I couldn't convince her to keep going there and not disappear on us. Fester tried to nab her and get her to see why they did what they did but to no avail."

"Understandable."

"We thought you'd feel that way." Mother smirks

"I meant more so how did she manage to get hired. They haven't even said they've gotten a new Headmaster or Mistress."

"The board would have to be riddled with complete fools if they pass up on Dolores, even despite her...muddled record." Mother says. She's always had an inexplicable soft spot for her little sister-in-law.

"What was their disagreement about anyway? I've never gotten a whole answer about that." I ask

"It would probably be best for you to ask her directly. We wouldn't want to speak for her." Father explains, shakily.

"Right then, what position will she be taking?" Noting how my father looked away and down when he said that

"The new herbology teacher. Oh, and your new house mother."

"Makes sense, the last one was an incompetent murderer. At least this time the teacher will be adequate. Thank you for letting me know. Will Pugsley be joining me as well?" Would be nice to practice my aim while still at school. He'd have a new selection of road signs to steal from.

"His grades aren't quite up to par, unfortunately." Mother grims "Rather like his Uncle Fester, brilliant but not booksmart."

"Pity. Will I be sent to school with Lurch, or will you two be dropping me off again?" I ask, waiting to turn around to finally get to the solitude of my bedroom.

"Actually Wednesday, you'll be carpooling with your aunt. She's bringing her own car so to not rely on buses and whatnot. She'll actually be fetching you a day or two earlier as she'll need to get situated."

"I thought she had an aversion to driving." I said, remembering how my father had tried to teach her to drive but my grandparents had already embittered her to the idea.

"She eventually got over it, not without struggle." My father winces "She got herself an old, red beetle and she's been using that little thing since she was 18. My parents were furious when they heard, of course I didn't let her know I'd told them. She wanted to be taken as dead to them."

"Can't wait to hear why from the source. When will she be coming?"

"Could you call Dolores about that, Darling? I have to see something about your brother and your father has a meeting to go to."

"A meeting? About what?" My father doesn't work really, not necessary for us.

"Some charity nonsense, I'm not entirely sure if I'm being honest. All I usually have to do is sign a check." My father explains, poorly.

"Fine, could I get her phone number?"

My mother scribbles down on a sheet her ten digits and sends me off. I'll finally have a use for Xavier's gift.

I shut my bedroom door and start looking for my cell phone, Thing has been using it to make a "TikTok" and "IG". I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes every time Enid would send him some asinine little video. I'm sure it's dead now as neither of us remembers to charge it. I find it in the dresser next to my bed, on 5% battery and 27 new text messages from Xavier.

******

I can hear her before I've even seen her. She came in her red Volkswagen Beetle, blaring music from its speakers. I'd hope she doesn't plan on maintaining that obnoxious volume, I can feel the migraine coming on already as she gets out to say hello.


"Wednesday, looking as malcontent and gorgeous as always." with her ever present smirk on her lips.
"Should I come in and say hey to the folks?"

"I'm sure they'd appreciate that, Mother hasn't stopped fawning about you since she knew you'd be my new teacher."

"Ugh, I've missed Tishy. I guess you'll wanna wait out here?"

"I'd prefer it."

"Here then," she hands me the keys, takes off her circular sunglasses and puts them on the neckline of her shirt "roll down the windows and do whatcha want. I'll be out in a few."

"Thank you, I'll be waiting. Thing will also be coming, just so you know."

"Aw, sweet. He owes me the story about the safe," She says, walking inside "besides I'll need me a few minutes to talk to Gomey and Morts about your new therapist situation."

My blood pressure rises immensely as a hear her last little blip.

"What are you referring to?"

She turns around to face me and looks more bemused by my expression than I'd like for her to be.


"What? Did you think that just because you saved the outcast population of New England from a bigoted zombie, his inept however many 'greats' granddaughter and your ex-boyfriend that everyone would forget you almost killed that normie kid from your last school? Law still applies to ya, dollface. Even heroes need therapy." She says, with her hands on her hips.

"This is waste of time. It's not like therapy did much the first time around, besides get the therapist killed by one of her patients." I feel my grip around the keys start pinching into my fingers

"And shockingly that patient wasn't you." She quips, smirk still on her face before it relaxes slightly "Jesus kid, you're acting like therapy is an actual punishment. Your talking out your thoughts with someone for an hour, get over it." As she turns around to walk inside and Lurch comes out to put my bags in her car.

She waltzes out just as chipper 20 minutes later

"C'mon, we're going from Princeton to Killington, Vermont, with any luck we'll make good time and get there by this afternoon."

"Five hours isn't so bad."

"I'm not generally fond of being extended company."

"Oh please, this little ride along could end up being a nice time for you." She says, getting in the car and starting it "Did you already say bye to everyone?"

"Yes, and I doubt it."

"Dude are you always this much of a downer? Get in."

I get settled inside "This whole happy-go-lucky thing you're doing isn't making you any happier."

"Is that so?" We take off into the path by my home leading to the main road into town.

"Yes. Happiness, or at least satisfaction in my experience is an equation: reality - high expectations. If you expect people to disappoint you, experiences to be subpar and life in general to not excite you very much, then you're never really disappointed." I finish matter of factly.

"Is that really happiness then? Or even satisfaction, as you say?"

"Sure. Can't miss what I never thought I had."

"Spidey, a lot of life is what you make it. If you go to a party, or say, a long car ride, with the expectation or intention to have a bad time then you'll just go, be moody and have in fact, a bad time." She counters, putting her glasses back on to shield herself from the sun coming off the rear view mirror.

"So I'm either right or pleasantly surprised? Sounds good to me."

"It's bad vibes." She says flatly

"It's realistic vibes."

"Expecting everything to be bad all the time also isn't realistic, Wen. There are so many reasons to be optimistic."

"Are you serious?" I ask, knowing some of her past.

"Yes! Life can be a wonderful thing, especially when you're the one in control of how you're living it."

"I can't agree, the natural state of things is chaos. Violence, war, rape, murder, abuse. Eventually we all end up ashes or worm food, the sooner we contend with that fact the better it helps me linger in the good times." I say, diddling the charm on my bracelet with Nero's stinger.

"Wens how often do you think about death?"

"All the time."

"Your family's? Your friends?"

"Sometimes, and it upsets me."

"Christ."

"Oh deliberately his. You can't deny that most things just don't work out."

"The magic of pessimism." She says sarcastically

"Almost everyone is mediocre at almost everything they do. All relationships we have will end, in death or in life. The only way to feel satiated and move on is to lower your expectations and not let it get to you. Optimism is stupid."

"But the stupid, optimistic conviction that things can and will get better by making it so is what makes positive change possible in the first place. If everyone walked around being almost certain that everything's going to shit then what's the point of trying?"

"Trying to what?"

"Trying. Period. Just trying at anything. Trying to be cleaner, trying to be smarter, trying to be faster. There would be no clear point and everyone would just settle and progress would stall."

I can't deny this.

"Spidey, I get that pessimism can feel safer."

"It's not my personal well-being I'm concerned about."

"Isn't it? When was the last time you had real hope about anything? Not deterministic persistence, not stubbornness, not pettiness and not settling because hey this is as good as it's gonna get let's hope it doesn't get worse. Real, deep hope about something. Or, someone."

"I don't like how often you're turning your head to give me sideways glance."

"Wednesday."

"Isn't hope just blind faith in a nicer tone?" I ask

"Yes. Can you answer the question?"

"...I suppose I'd hoped that Eugene would recover despite the odds of surviving an explosion not being great."

"Eugene is the little beekeeper friend you made last term, right?"

"The entomopathist, yes."

"Okay, I guess that's a good example."

"I'm not hopeless, I'm just selective in where I put my energy or hope."

"So with the Hyde thing. We're you betting that Xavier Thorpe was the Hyde or we're you hoping he was so you could say you're a good judge of character."

"I didn't really think it had much to do with anyone's character at all. When I was under the impression that Xavier was the monster, I thought he was doing it without knowing it. Or that he was doing it unwillingly."

"Guess it was an ugly surprise when you found out Galpin relished in it."

It bothers me how well she can gage me despite not having spent much time with me recently.

Most of the information she has must be second hand and yet she's reaching accurate conclusions.
We're obviously related, we look enough alike where it's clear by just looking.
Not exactly of course but she's small, only two inches taller than me and wears big shoes to compensate for it. Her hair also helps. A big, curly inch of her skull. But still, black hair, black eyes, and her skin is the color mine would be if my vitamin D deficiency didn't leave me with the grey cast palor I like now. A warm tan brown like Father.

"It was unsettling. Albeit certainly made my first kiss memorable."

"I'm sure. Mine was a shit show."

"What? Did the guy have braces and they got caught in yours?" I ask sarcastically, knowing her attempt as sympathizing won't measure up.

"No. His teeth were perfectly straight and white. He'd long past the age where braces would look acceptable."

"Couldn't have been that bad." I shrug off

"He forced it on me."

"...and I'm assuming you broke his teeth in retribution." I add

"Not even close. In the position I was in at the time it would've completely fucked my life up, I showed some disgust and that was enough for me to get a stern 'talking to' from my parents."

"This has something to do with why you ran off."

"Yeah. Well, this and a ton of other shit I don't wanna get into, no use dwelling on what's done." She mutters that last part.

"I'm never having kids."

"Pfft, me neither kid. Pregnancy and childbirth alone sound like a Lovecraftian nightmare."

"Hm...well when you phrase it like that..."

We spent most of the ride in relative silence, her music making so that it's not completely quiet but clearly neither of us felt like speaking. She let me control the music for a few hours and surprisingly, she introduced me to new music I actually enjoyed. Genres I'd written off and artists I'd misjudged. I found that I can enjoy some pop, like Shakira's older sound. My aunt is also obviously angrier than she'd like to seem, given how taken away she got by She Wants Revenge. We stopped once for a bathroom break and coffee at a small coffee shop in New Paltz ironically called The Bakery. As eye-roll inducing as the name is the coffee was good and the bathrooms were clean, so we couldn't complain much. She was nice enough to pay. "I'm your aunt and the adult" and other such nonsense being the excuse. Around half way through the ride I pick up my cell phone and text two people to let them know I'm coming. Enid, as we're still rooming together and I wanted to
make sure she kept her My Little Pony adjacent decor on her side, and Xavier. Might give him a chance to get his explanation clear about these messages. Altogether the ride went by much quicker than I expected. We'd headed out at 5:04 am that morning and got to the school at 9:50 am. Of course she drives like a mad woman constantly surpassing the speed limit, only pausing for a second at stop signs and hardly getting any red lights helps. Impressive that her car hasn't been totaled.

"So when are the rest of us meeting your aunt?" Enid asks over FaceTime while I unpack, I hadn't realized she wouldn't be at the school for another two days.

"The day you get here, I suppose. Unless you've other plans. I'd introduce you to her now on this call but she's in her room working on the lesson plan, I believe."

"Than to hang out with my bestie and her super cool aunt? Never. Well, except maybe spend some quality time with Ajax."

"Good to know he's still doing well with you."

"Total gentleman, no complaints here. He's been a little worried about Xavier though. I know he's a little moody, tortured artist persona and all. But during the break he barely communicated with Jax, or anyone else as far as I know."

As far as you know is a good way to phrase it, Enid. She doesn't need to know about his messages to me, I'm not even sure how to take them myself. The only thing he responded to me after my text was "Oh, cool."

"I let him know I was on my way here this morning, I didn't get a very enthusiastic responce from. Figured that was just his nature over text." Not even close

"Really? That's surprising. I thought if anyone could get more outta him it'd be you."

"Why's that?"

"No one believes you're that oblivious, Wednesday. His not-so-subtle crush on you? Maybe that's why?"

"Maybe the events last year sobered him up and he got over it."

"Or he's just depressed."

"Also possible. Not necessarily our business though, is it?"

"I mean, it kinda is. We're his friends and all, and most of us know what it's like to not have a whole hell of a lot of support at home. He needs to get it from somewhere." She clarifies

"Wasn't his father with him during this break?"

"Ha, yeah. I'm sure he was a whole lotta help." She says sarcastically

"Wasn't he? Xavier could've died last term." I point out

"Hm, I'm not sure that's all that important to the all too busy Vincent Thorpe."

"Well, that's mildly upsetting."

"Yeah, you could say that. I know he and I aren't close but I know what it's like to feel like the family you were born into isn't the one you're supposed to be in. At least sometimes." I can empathize with that. My parents are the epitome of present, supportive parents. Almost to a fault, that's what makes it strange. In my eyes, they border on intrusive sometimes, and lacking physical boundaries most times.

"I understand. Do you know if he's an only child?"

"Good question. I'll ask Ajax, I'm not sure. I know his mom wasn't his first wife so it's a possibility he's not. Well, I have my flight at 1:00 am tonight so I gotta get going. See ya in the morning, Bestie."

"Goodbye Enid, have a safe flight.”

<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/50759830"><strong>Well Then</strong></a> (69569 words) by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliTerren"><strong>AliTerren</strong></a><br />Chapters: 13/20<br />Fandom: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Wednesday%20(TV%202022)">Wednesday (TV 2022)</a><br />Rating: Explicit<br />Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings<br />Relationships: Wednesday Addams & Xavier Thorpe, Wednesday Addams/Xavier Thorpe, Xavier Thorpe & Wednesday Addams, Xavier Thorpe/Wednesday Addams, Xavier Thorpe/Original Female Character(s), Xavier Thorpe and Original Female Character(s), Wednesday Addams/Original Female Character(s), Tyler Galpin/Original Female Character(s), Wednesday Addams & Enid Sinclair, Ajax Petropolus/Enid Sinclair, Ajax Petropolus & Xavier Thorpe, Wednesday Addams & Original Female Character<br />Characters: Xavier Thorpe, Wednesday Addams, Enid Sinclair, Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s), Original Non-Human Character(s), Ajax Petropolus, Eugene Ottinger, Morticia Addams, Gomez Addams, Tyler Galpin, Donovan Galpin, Garrett Gates, Marilyn Thornhill | Laurel Gates, Vincent Thorpe<br />Additional Tags: Mildly Dubious Consent, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Wednesday is soft for Xavier, Xavier Thorpe is Whipped, POV Xavier Thorpe, POV Wednesday Addams, Possessive Behavior, Obsessive Behavior, Xavier Thorpe Needs a Hug, Xavier Thorpe switch, Jealous Wednesday Addams, Pining, Yearning, Lonely Xavier Thorpe, Smut, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Smut, Masturbation, Fantasizing, Prophetic Visions, Sharing a Bed, Sharing Clothes, Xavier Thorpe Has Daddy Issues, Xavier Thorpe has Mommy Issues, Xavier Thorpe has a praise kink, Discussion of sexual assault, Discussion of rape kits, succubi, Demonic Possession, Demonic Sacrifice, soul eating, Bisexual Wednesday Addams, Creepy Tyler Galpin, wet dreams, Our season 2, Subby Xavier Thorpe, Sub Xavier Thorpe<br />Summary: <p>New term has started, with it comes new people, new feelings and new duties. Let’s hope the unresolved doesn’t get in the way.</p><p>(This might be a part one, might make sequels. Also, take this as season 2 if you also miss having Xavier in the show.)</p>