#jekyll and hyde fanfic

[definatelymrhyde]

I guess I’ll send in my ask now 🤣

Since I already seen a post on Edward’s design choices, I’m curious what was the inspiration for Jekyll’s design? Like do you based him on a musical cast actor? Or your personal preference? Things like that.

HI HELLO IVE BEEN WAITING TO TALK SBOUT THIS AND JUST HAVNT YET AJDHSJSH

Jekylls design is based mainly off of personal preference and how I imagined him in my head when I first read the original novella!! I also gave him long hair because one; I love that design idea for Jekyll and think it’s super neat! I took inspo from the musical in that effect. And two; It made a great subject for any transformation scene. Because Hyde’s hair is shorter. How would Jekylls hair get shorter? Yeah. Im not gonna say it outright though because the implication is terrifying both to ME and to Jekyll. Because he was still very much so conscious during any transformation. He could see hear and feel what was happening. I also really REALLY love the red/green motif in TGS, so I snatched that too! Jekylls eyes also have opposite light/dark halves to Edward’s which was so I could have a little nod at the ‘opposite halves’ bit. I also think it’s funny he looks more like TGS Hyde than TGS Jekyll. Jekylls Eyes are a huuuge part of his design too!! As I mentioned before him and Edward have got an opposite eye thing going on, not just colour wise either. Jekylls eyes are darker on the bottom and lighter on the top while Edward’s are lighter on the bottom and darker on the top. I kinda think this gives Jekyll a neat little effect where he looks MUCH more worn out and tired than Edward does!! I also really liked the idea of Jekyll having little circle Victorian Glasses, but never actually decided wether or not I wanted him to HAVE said glasses. Hence we get that sometimes he wears glasses and sometimes he just doesn’t. I think it’s because he’s stubborn and refuses to wear his damned glasses for anything that doesn’t require fine detail vision like reading, writing or alchemy/doctor stuff. The glasses don’t really have arms on them though when I draw them so it’s beyond me how they stay on his face. For the rest of Jekylls clothes I went with the THS red/brown/warm colours theme. Originally it was meant to be just a TGS au but then @fanartsandstuff (sorry for the ping!!) drew an amazing photo of wtiht Jekyll with a darker vest and I fell in love with that idea!! So credits to them for that part of the design!! I also loooooovvveee gradients on my designs so of course he gets a little gradient on his pants and when I’m in shading occasionally the rest of his clothes too lmao.

Anyways I apologize for how long that was, I just think a lot about my character designs and how I execute them woshishahs

[nik-the-bik]

"Glove" - Jekyll/Utterson

The Henriel well has run dry so I've had to resort to actually finishing my own stuff. Wack.

Summary: Utterson finds something he lost. Jekyll is kind of a freaky dude.

Content Warnings: period-appropriate attitudes towards homosexuality, descriptions of sexual acts, alcohol mention, some angst

***

A loud knock echoed down Gaunt Street as the esteemed Dr. Jekyll stood at the door of his old friend, Mr. Utterson. While his face remained cool, his fingers fidgeted with the cuff of his jacket, betraying an otherwise invisible unease. The habit ended immediately as the door was opened by Mr. Utterson’s house staff, who beckoned the familiar face into the home. Dr. Jekyll admired the neat, simple, gray house as he was ushered into Utterson’s study, where the gentleman was at work over a pile of papers.

“Dr. Jekyll, a pleasant surprise!” spoke Utterson, head straightening as his boyhood friend entered. While Utterson rarely smiled, Jekyll caught himself skipping a breath when he met the man’s eyes, which shined with a warm delight at seeing him.

How did he manage to do this every time?

Jekyll cleared his throat, raising a hand to cover his mouth and hopefully any change to his complexion. “Good morning, Mr. Utterson.”

“To what do I owe the visit?” Utterson asked, rising from his seat. “From what you told me last night, I was under the impression that your schedule was booked up for the next few weeks.”

Jekyll raised an eyebrow at Utterson. “Would you prefer I didn’t see you again so soon?”

Now it was Utterson who had a rush of color to his cheeks. “Well, that’s not what I meant, of course. You know you’re always welcome, Harry.”

Jekyll beamed. “Excellent.” The doctor grasped Utterson’s hand in both of his and gave a curt shake. “I’d be happy to see you each day if my time was my own,” he sighed. “Unfortunately, I can only stay for a few moments today. My morning required a few errands, and I made sure to include an extra stop –“ he paused as his right hand reached into his breast pocket, “- in order to ease both of our minds.” He revealed in his hand a single white dinner glove.

“So, you found it at last?” Utterson asked, the corners of his mouth beginning to twitch up as that glorious light in his eye gleamed again. Jekyll offered the glove, and Utterson took it in both hands, examining it. “Wherever did it go?”

“It was caught between the arm of the chair and the seat cushion.”

Utterson looked up at Jekyll, his brow furrowed. “I could have sworn I checked that chair a dozen times, you saw that I practically turned the thing upside down.”

Jekyll simply shrugged. “I’m just glad you have a matching set again. And that my furniture didn’t need to be ruined in the process.”

Utterson let out a long sigh. “I suppose I am grateful that it did turn up, although more so because the whole disappearance would have vexed me, rather than losing the glove itself.” His face returned to a calm, polite mask again. “So I thank you, Harry, for not only finding it, but for giving me a solution to a puzzle that would have scratched at the back of my mind all day.”

“I’m happy I could provide some relief, then.”

Jekyll caught himself sinking into the calm warmth of Utterson’s eyes. Utterson, however, kept flicking his eyes back down to the single glove in his hands.

“Although…something tells me you’re still unsatisfied.”

Utterson’s brow furrowed again. “I am grateful, Harry, truly! I just…how on earth did it vanish last night? I’m entirely at a loss!” Jekyll suppressed a laugh at Utterson’s quick unraveling. “You know where I left both gloves – “

“You mentioned that you neatly laid them over the arm of the chair,” Jekyll replied.

“I did! And you and I both know that no one else stepped foot in your drawing room between the time I took them off to the time I discovered that just one was missing. For it to fall into the cushion of the chair, fine, but for it to not turn up there when I was searching for it – “

“My dear Utterson, you have a hard time letting little mysteries go, don’t you?”

Utterson shut his eyes and shook his head, practically laughing at himself. “Perhaps I do. And perhaps it’s nothing at all – I just wish I could account for it, don’t you?”

“I completely understand. I’m sure I would be of the same mind if it was me.”

“I think so. Especially since you like to splurge on finer silk gloves than I do.” Utterson’s eyes twinkled again. “I am surprised that your scientific mind didn’t dive as deep into the search as I did last night.”

There was that heat rising to Jekyll’s face again. “I was a bit more distracted by your own urgency, so that I could only watch how your mind tried to work it out,” Jekyll said.                                                                                                                                                                            

Utterson sheepishly laughed. “Yes, yes, you were laughing at me the whole time.”

Jekyll squeezed Utterson’s shoulder fondly. “Not laughing at you, no. Just enjoying seeing something spark some excitement in you, my friend. I think I should find you more puzzles to stimulate that curious nature of yours.”

Utterson took Jekyll’s hand from his shoulder and pressed it between both of his own now. “As long as you don’t think I was behaving foolishly, I’m satisfied.”

“I would never think you a fool, Utterson,” Jekyll muttered, having to look away from the man across from him. He removed his hand and immediately smoothed his front, adjusting himself. “I should let you return to your business, I’m sorry I don’t have more time to chat today.”

Utterson blinked. “Oh, yes, I shouldn’t keep you. Thank you again for stopping in today and for returning this,” Utterson said, waving the glove before setting it aside. “Best of luck with your presentation on Wednesday.”

Jekyll nodded. “Thank you. In fact, I can tell you more about it this Thursday if you wouldn’t mind joining me at my home for dinner. I had the evening open up and – “ Jekyll abruptly lost his thought as he caught Utterson smiling – actually smiling! – in response.

“Yes, I would be happy to come, Harry.” Utterson replied eagerly. Between the warmth of his smile and that damn shine in his eyes again, Jekyll felt his heart lurch and his stomach knot up.

“Great!” Jekyll choked out, “I’ll be sure to notify Poole so that he can make arrangements. I’ll see you around 8?”

“I look forward to it, Doctor.” Utterson took Jekyll’s hand once more in a brief shake before Jekyll quickly retreated to the door, not trusting his tongue to say anything more.

As he stepped back out to the brisk London air, Henry Jekyll found himself in pure ecstasy. He began to whistle as he made his way down the street, promising to himself that he would make sure to deliver as many future dinner invitations to Utterson in person as possible.

He couldn’t help replaying the discussion in his mind. That smile, that glorious, glorious smile, affected him deeply. Any doubts Jekyll had of Utterson’s attachment to him were dashed by that beautiful face lighting up with joy at a mere dinner invitation. However, the realization struck him that Utterson’s regard might be challenged if his curious lawyer friend were to mull over the damn glove situation any deeper.

That joy vanished as Jekyll contemplated what Utterson would think of him if he guessed at the truth.

Yes, Utterson had been frustrated last night by the sudden disappearance of the glove. No one else had entered the room, and he and Jekyll were wholly alone the entire time. It was unclear to Henry Jekyll why Utterson’s mind hadn’t pinpointed that the sudden disappearance must have been Jekyll’s doing.

Because as soon as Utterson left his seat unmonitored, Jekyll had stashed the glove into his pocket.

It was impulsive, yes. Stupidly so.

After their dinner, Henry had invited Utterson to enjoy a bottle of red wine with him before the fire in his drawing room. An ordinary part of the many evenings they had spent the same way together. But this time, as Jekyll worked to uncork the bottle, he had watched as Utterson meticulously peeled his gloves off his hands and neatly draped them over the arm of his chair. Something about the way Utterson delicately moved, putting so much care into the position of his gloves, flooded Jekyll with fondness for his old friend. Always the perfect gentleman, Utterson instinctively appreciated little details. As he offered the glass of wine to Utterson, Jekyll felt his eyes continue to wander back to the gloves, perfectly placed.

A little time passed, Utterson rose to stand nearer the fire, and Jekyll took the opportunity to take the glove for his own.

Utterson hadn’t noticed anything for some time. He and Jekyll were able to sip at their wine and carry on their discussion. But once he returned to his seat, Utterson’s expression immediately fell as he noticed that one of the gloves was missing. He left the chair, checked underneath it, and then at last voiced his surprise and confusion.

While Jekyll tried to show sympathy, and suggested Utterson may have misremembered what he had done, he couldn’t help but be amused at Utterson’s uncharacteristic pout of frustration, and the animated way he paced the room and tried to account for the disappearance. The put-together Utterson caught off his guard was, admittedly, comical.

It was easy to feign ignorance in that moment, pretending he hadn’t even noticed Utterson had taken the gloves off, but while he watched the gears in Utterson’s head spin, Jekyll felt a twinge of anxiety that the man would see straight through him. And if Jekyll was forced to admit he took it, something he really had no reason for beyond a sudden whim, he would only look like he was playing a rather rude joke.

No, Utterson would have to drop the search altogether.

Ultimately, Jekyll urged Utterson to forget the whole thing, and was surprised by how much his voice raised. Utterson seemed taken aback, but solemnly apologized for his anxious behavior. Jekyll, too, apologized for his outburst and insisted that they move on to a new topic. He reached towards Utterson’s hand and even got to hold it for a moment while the lawyer sighed. The rest of the evening was relatively amicable, but Utterson didn’t stay for much longer.

The two men said their goodbyes, and Henry Jekyll watched his friend until the carriage taking him home was out of sight. It was then that Jekyll crept his way to his bedroom.

Slowly, the door was shut and bolted. Curtains were drawn. Jekyll had one lamp by the side of his bed lit as he sat down on the edge of the mattress, hands trembling slightly as he removed the prize from his pocket.

Jekyll held the glove in his lap, staring down upon it, lightly brushing his thumbs against the soft material. It wasn’t the same high quality silk that Jekyll would buy for himself, but he could see that Utterson took remarkable care of his possessions regardless. The stitching was immaculately done, there wasn’t a single speck of dirt visible, and Jekyll laid the glove over the palm of his own hand, noticing that it must have been an excellent fit on Utterson, but a tad too small for himself. He let the index finger of his free hand wander up and down the length of the glove, appreciating the respect that Utterson had for this simple little garment.

Then, Jekyll took the glove in both hands again and raised it to his nose, inhaling deeply.

It smelt like Utterson. Of course it did.

He could smell old books and gin and traces of the cologne that Utterson wore – the exact same scent that Jekyll had bought him as a gift decades earlier.

Henry released a shaky sigh. Wonderful, reliable Utterson. Still loyally wearing the same fragrance.

He breathed in the aroma as he dragged the glove across his cheek, basking in the softness of the material and imagining Gabriel’s hand caressing his face in the same way. What he’d give for that affection, true, physical, tangible affection –

Henry felt his heart racing up towards his throat as he brought the glove before his eyes again. Here, it seemed so small. There was no possible way Utterson’s hand was this small, was it?

The glove was brought to his lips as Jekyll softly kissed the palm. He kissed each fingertip in turn, pinky to thumb, before returning and kissing them again in the opposite order.

How many years had he spent wanting to do this to the humble old lawyer?

How often had he restrained himself when the urge to kiss his beloved tugged at him?

He imagined Utterson before him, rosy faced as Jekyll held one of his hands in both of his own and planted kisses along the fingertips. The tip of the glove’s middle finger found its way between Jekyll’s teeth as he pictured himself dragging the glove off Utterson’s hand, and getting to feel the warm, bare, flesh brush against his lips. How wonderful it would be to kiss those hands, those cheeks, feel those graceful fingers in his mouth, letting Utterson’s hands caress his face while his own hands worked their way to Utterson’s hips.

He'd be on his knees soon enough, tearing through buttons to reveal Utterson’s glorious manhood, swollen with a shared desire. He’d let his mouth get to quick work, impatient to make the stoic Utterson whine and pant like a whore.

When Jekyll finished his task, he would strip down himself, begging Utterson to make a whore out of him in return - right there on the floor.

These were common fantasies for him. In actuality, Jekyll was laying atop his bed, trousers discarded, with one hand working furiously while the other clutched the Utterson-scented glove over his mouth and nose, muffled moans escaping him while his back arched.

Release came, and with it, his face grew hot with shame.

Pathetic.

He had let his grossest, most wicked impulses overcome him again. He had indulged that grotesque voice in his head that he could never seem to shake, and for what? A mess to clean up, a sickening amount of guilt, and one solitary glove that didn’t fucking belong to him.

He discarded the glove and cleaned himself before extinguishing the light and putting himself to bed.

When morning came at last and Jekyll peeled himself from his pillow, the first thing he noticed was the slightly crumpled glove next to his face. He brought the glove to his nose and sniffed it but couldn’t smell any of Utterson’s cologne anymore.

It was time to return this to its rightful owner.

He took extra care to make himself presentable that morning. Jekyll scrubbed at his face and hands, hoping that a visit to Utterson wouldn’t reveal his sins of the night before.

What would Utterson make of him, if he knew the sick and twisted way that Jekyll thought of him?

But the visit had gone fine.

Utterson was happy to see him. Happy to accept an invitation for dinner later this week.

Happy to ignore any possibility of Henry Jekyll being corrupt, dishonest, filthy.

As Jekyll reached home and the inside of his lab after returning from Gaunt Street, he prayed that he wouldn’t be tempted to misbehave at their next evening together.

[saffaggot]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde - Robert Louis Stevenson Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dr. Henry Jekyll/Dr. Hastie Lanyon, Gabriel John Utterson/Dr. Hastie Lanyon Characters: Dr. Hastie Lanyon Additional Tags: I could make this better but naahh, I like it how it is (I don't like editing), The relationships are there if you squint, mostly henry and hastie what can I say I'm a Hastie super fan, and Henry is just easy to write for tbh, One Shot, uh, diary entry, hastie lanyon's diary, it's not explicitly stated but that was basically my intention, It's kinda sad, i'm so good at tags, Pining, Kinda Summary:

Dr. Lanyon recalls his and Jekyll's relationship in their childhood and teenage years.

[sillymachiine]

when you're third wheeling on the date between yourself (uncool version) and her tall girlfriend. weird science is on the brain lol

[luc1ferian]

👀👀

Tomorrow.....

Hey did I ever mention........I have ao3 now :)))

[almostfoxglove]

pedro pascal cinematic universe aus 25/?

the one where joel miller is not truly one man, but two. (insp)

[follow-the-ghostlight]

I NEED TO DRAW MORE FANART FOR MY OWN FIC!! In The Fog of London is my Wattpad and Ao3 Jekyll and Hyde fic!! It’s loosely based on the book for source material!! Wattpad has the PG-13 version and Ao3 has the R version for more mature readers. I’m actually really proud of it hehe

GO CHECK IT OUT IF YOU LOVE MONSTER ROMANCE AND SHORT COUPLES!!

Wattpad: GhostLightSprite

Ao3: GhostLightSprite/SantoDelleMaschere

[aanthonyvb]

I love your Jekyll so so much!! Could you please draw him having a diner? 👉👈

Nice dinner with your boyfriend after 30 years of repressed feelings

[addicted-to-dc]

Jekyll/Hyde Part 2 - Taskforce 141 x Reader

Tags for those who encouraged me to write this. Thank you!!! @greeniegreengreen @aeilani @poetslastdeath 

Link to Part 1

Content Warnings: Typical CoD violence, ptsd, reader is going to be unhinged (even more so in the next chapters).

The computer does all the work for you nowadays. Honestly, you expected this to be your time to think things over. ‘Meditate’ as Laswell calls it. Rumination sits better on your tongue. How in the world can you ruminate in conditions like these? The overhead lights are buzzing, a high-pitched constant ringing that’s giving you a migraine. It feels like an ice pick was shoved through your eye socket, the cold metal turning warm as it disturbs thousands of nerves.

The seclusion you needed has fucking left the building, leaving you alone with a team of walking dead men. Laswell didn’t tell them why you had so many deaths. One would assume that the common denominator (i.e. YOU) are the reason why families mourn their loved ones. With every step you take you can hear the jingle of all those tags, so many souls gone because you couldn’t stop digging for the truth.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to drag yourself out of your exhaustion. Your efforts only reward you with a sharp pain in your skull. Checking the time, you internally groan. Less than an hour until your dogs are here. Fuck, you miss them.

There’s a flick of a lighter, the scent of leather and wood assaulting your nose. Then tobacco invades your senses. “What’s on your mind?”

Captain Price, the man who started it all. He’s a survivor. He might stand a chance at what’s coming next. It’s been a while since you’ve interacted with a man this intense. He’s a smart one. The cigar erases the mustiness of the room. Smells like home. You can feel your body relax, albeit slightly. Maybe you just need a smoke.

“The only family I have left,” you reply, yanking out your cigarettes. Your only photo lies folded in the nearly empty pack. You flick it to Price, your aim true as it rolls to the edge of the table. “Three dogs. Sir, Bear, and Ruse.”

Ghost shifts slightly in his chair, dark eyes on the photo as soon as Price uncrumples it. “Cerberus?”

You can see recognition flash in Price’s eyes. In all of theirs. At least they don’t try to hide it. Sunshine leans forward, his eyes reevaluating you. “You’re The Huntress.”

It’s not a question. He knows. They all do. Price hands the photo to Mr. Mohawk. You shake your head, “I haven’t been called that in a long time.”

“Fuckin’ unstoppable is what you should be called,” Mr. Mohawk chuckles, looking up from the photo. “I’ve seen yer work. Thorough, precise, efficient, and batshit crazy.”

“They say you’re a sniper hunter,” Ghost states, eyes blazing with intrigue. “That true?”

You nod, your index finger running over the scar on your chin. Mr. Mohawk’s bright ass blue eyes bore into your own. “Why the name change?”

Your muscles tense, feeling the weight of hundreds of hands pulling you down, down, down… Broken nails tear at your flesh, opening old wounds that never fully healed right. The screams ring in your ears, curses that taint your very soul to this day. “A story for another day.”

“Is this your original taskforce?” Price asks, pulling your attention away from his sergeant.

“Yes, it is,” you reply, lighting up your last cigarette. “Picked every single one of them myself. Two Polish battering rams, Maryna and Urszula Kowalski. They were always at each other’s throats, but they were the devil and angel on my shoulder.”

You take a long drag. They were the first ones to die.

The frequent migraines and metal plate in your skull are because of them, cracking your skull open before you could even walk off the transport. Their deaths were too quick, but watching the Semtex burst in the sisters’ faces was cathartic. Liars always fail to earn mercy from you. Traitorous ones at least. You exhale, releasing the tension. They don’t deserve to weigh down your conscience.

“August Lindemann, a German tech genius. Spoiled us with all the newest gadgets on the field.” You chuckle, dark eyes meeting Price’s. “I always said they’d make us lose our edge.”

For all the brains he had, they didn’t look so special splattered across the wall. You fought through the entire base to get to him. Cowering like the leach he was until he was the only one left. It didn’t even take cutting off his precious fingers to find out who organized all of this: General Sheperd. You know this leads deeper into the abyss, merely scratching the surface of this conspiracy.

“The last one is American; best shot I’ve ever seen and an even better medic. Dane Reid was a serious man, but he always kept everyone together.”

His ring lies against your chest, right next to yours. You scratch your right ear, digging your nails into what’s left of your upper cartilage. He was the best shot, but your dogs were loyal to no one except you. Even your husband. Using yourself as a decoy was risky, but Sir, Bear, and Ruse tearing him apart made the sacrifice worth it. And the bullet you put into his heart? Even more so.

You can’t wait to see them again.

“You and the dogs are the only ones left?” Sunshine asks, gently taking the photo from Price. “How did Laswell find you?”

“Wandering the Russian forest with stolen data,” you reply, picking at your broken nail. “She found me and the dogs months later.”

“An’ yer team?” Mr. Mohawk questions. “Wha’ about them?”

“I killed them all,” you answer, putting out the cig. You’ll save it for later, death usually ruins the taste. “They tried to sabotage the op. I only got one name when all of it was said and done, and you want to know who it was?”

You scan over every single one of them. The truth always hurts to tell, but you need them to live. You can’t lose anymore, not when Laswell holds these men to the highest regard. What did she say to them? Oh, yes, you need a team to survive with you. There’s too much death permeating the air. The smell of burnt flesh burns your nose.

“General Herschel Sheperd,” you snarl, the rage of Hyde breaking past Jekyll’s walls. “Laswell says you’re looking for him, and I want my pound of flesh.”

You’re sure they can see the insanity in your eyes, the ferality that consumed you in the forests of Russia and nestled its way into your very soul. Split into two beings, one desperate for peace and the other salivating for revenge. You’re not a Captain anymore. You’re nothing. Just a revenant walking amongst the living until your duty is fulfilled. Peace was never an option for you in life, only in death. You accepted that the day you lost your team, your only family. One gaze bears the most weight.

Your eyes catch Ghost’s. Dark eyes penetrate your soul, reading the scripture of your heart. Loyalty broken, trusted allies and friends betraying old bonds. Killing them. Broken, a living being inhabited by the scraps of its own psyche. Two peas in a fucked-up pod. Your phone vibrates on the table, one singular message popping up on your screen: They’re here.

“Thank fuck,” you mumble, pocketing your phone. “They’re here.” You’re itching to leave, to run to the last semblance of family you have.

Clearly, you’re too easy to read. Price stands, the others following suit. “Let’s go meet them then.”

Sunshine barely has the door open when you slip through, quickly maneuvering through the shitty corporate layout of the building until you reach the side lot. You can see them. Tears threaten to cloud your vision as you see Sir chase Ruse around the grass. Bear lays in the shade. Laswell notices your approach, giving you a small nod. You whistle loudly, their playtime immediately put on halt. It takes a second for the noise to bounce around their brains, immediately whining once it finally clicked. Sir, the eldest German Sheperd, is the first one to make it to you, whining and jumping in your arms. His love is always overwhelming, but it’s welcome.

Sir manages to hold onto your shoulders, forcing you to catch him to regain your balance. Only for Ruse, the younger Shepherd, to knock you to the ground. It startles a laugh out of you, a smile following soon after. God, it’s been too long since you’ve seen them. Bear in all her glory runs up and sits at your feet. Your smart girl. A Rottweiler mix, probably shepherd, but her fur pattern always draws you in. You coo, using whatever body part you can to pet all three of them. “Yeah, I missed you, too.”

You sneak them treats, whispering sweet nothings to each of them as you try to make up for lost time. Six months away from them has been torture. Then again, you thought you’d never see them again. Every op feels like the last.

“Forgive them, it’s been half a year since we’ve seen each other,” you turn to the group, sputtering when Ruse licks into your mouth. “CERBERUS!”

They fall in line perfectly, ears perked and waiting for orders. A hand pops into view, and you take it. Sunshine pulls you up, chuckling at the slobber left behind. He tilts his head, eyes catching something on your chest.

Frowning, you look down. Your rings are exposed. Tearing off the necklace, you shove it into your pocket. You’re allowed to have your secrets.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

[theriacballad]

Imagine being Utterson. You just broke down the door to your best friend's lab, expecting to finally corner Hyde and get answers to everything that has been racing through your mind-- to finally be able to wrap this whole mystery up to find the dead body. There's a letter addressed to you by your best friend, and so you take it back home with you. Leaving the small, frail body of the feared Mr Hyde behind; and then you read both letters, both by dead best friends. You find out the truth about everything, you find out how scared Jekyll was before he died, how he destroyed himself just so he could be free. He was a caged bird slamming himself against the bars to be free, and it still killed him in the end. It's absolutely haunting, finally realizing that the same feared man that had ended his life in your best friend's lab was your best friend. And now he's dead. The last thing he knew was fear, driving him over the edge and inevitably ending his life. To everyone, Jekyll will be forever missing; but to you, Jekyll is dead, dying as the man named Hyde.

[im-not-buying-it-ether]

Honestly if I do a dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde story with my favorite guys I’d have to keep to the theme and make Marvel Jekyll and Billy Hyde if he’s dubious

Marvel being the socially acceptable identity with friends and prestige; Safe

Billy as a lil homeless kid whose getting truancy charges up a wazoo and doesn’t have to be 100% perfect but chooses too; Unsafe

It’d honestly be a reverse of the situation bc then it’s conceptually Hyde turning into Jekyll but then comes the whole “what’s the vice/horrible secret urge thing” that I’m probably just going to write off as his identity but then there’s the whole murder thing. Idk man, concept feels too juicy to leave behind but idk how much I can torture the blorbo

[definatelymrhyde]

We are speedy and chapter two is out already of TGS Jekyll and Hyde meet an AU Musical Jekyll and Hyde I made up. Special thanks to my bestie jekyll-everything for editing it!!

Anyways here’s the link :))

[fishyvamp]

I am stressed as hell right now with everything going on in the US so Imma going to write what I think some of my favorite killers are like when they're darling reader comes to them stressed as hell. Many of them are going to be readers I've already written about at least once so feel free to check the masterlist. If you want more head canons feel free to ask.

The Knight is startled when Eldritch!reader asks to just cuddle, you're smaller then usual body tense and when he touches your skin he can feel the hidden shadows trying to pull him in. "Anything for you Szeretet," he whispers picking you up and holding you against his chest. He takes you to his bed though it looks more like the nest you have in your castle then an actual bed. You smile realizing he's slowly bringing pieces of you in. He doesn't find himself worthy of you, but if you insist on asking him for comfort it would be his honor to provide it.

The Ghostface is confused as hell watching Hyde!reader pacing the room. You're killer side is usually scarily calm most of the time. However you look ready to lash out. Ready to pounce and shred the next person who so much as looks at you. You turn around seeing him there and he was bracing himself to get rushed and pinned against the wall, but it never came. Instead he watches you slowly move to him picking him up holding him in your arms as you move to the couch slumping down. You don't say anything to him, but you do hold him almost painfully tight against your chest. "Everything alright?" He asks you. Not sure how to feel about the non-committal grunt you give.

The Hillbilly doesn't think twice already wrapping you tight in the warmest knit blanket he's got, he's got popcorn, hot cocoa, and all the sweets you can gorge yourself on. Your favorite movie is on and he's just enjoying your company as you both lay on the couch, though if you don't calm down he might be inclined to help his little critter out by using other methods of getting your brain to shut down.

The Trapper doesn't react much just pulls you into bed and asks you to just speak. It doesn't matter if he understands he just wants to listen. He wants to hear everything, wants to make sure you feel heard. He smiles when you finally break your worries spilling like a faucet as he takes everything in asking questions when you pause. You seem at ease once you're done looking so peaceful tucked up under his arm. His Brat looks so sweet when they lay in bed next to him so peacefully. Burden him will you, it makes him feel less alone to hear you. Makes him feel lighter when he helps you share the emotional load.

The Executioner is use to it. You're already stressed about this and that. You aren't dating, but he does know how to get you calm down, you pinned beneath him in the bed as he humps against your ass. So fucking perfect he thinks feeling you melt against his touch. Such a needy toy, maybe he'll force you on your knees as he sharpens his knife, your face pressed against his thigh nose buried into his clothed groin. You're surrounded by his musk and for some reason that pacifies you. Not that pyramid head can complain.

The legion, they're solution to everything is horror movies and cuddle puddle. The neediest person in the center of the puddle a killer in each arm, a third holding behind while the fourth finds himself between your legs. The look smug when they finally get you to sleep. Your snoring soothing. It isn't long before they're passed out too.

[yourfavouritefighter]

hi i made pixel art once and i realised i haven’t posted in a while so here

also i posted a new dead man walking chapter here (link)

so yeah

[sillymachiine]

designs for weird science