he had a complicated relationship with people seeing him.
that's what the walls — what the mask was for.
he'd lived this way comfortably for years; had stuck himself behind these walls, in these musky catacombs, separated far from the whispers he could hear just beyond them.
he had a complicated relationship with the separation.
he was glad to be unbothered, was glad to be alone and safe. but oh, how he craved touch. he could see touch happening through his peepholes, could hear faint happenings of it sometimes if the dark was quiet enough.
he would sometimes raise his fingers up to the walls in his crawlspace, brush them against the wood and close his eyes, wonder if this was even close to love or affection.
he saw her often enough, saw her caressing his doll, could even imagine sometimes that it was him held tight in her arms, close enough to her to hear her heartbeat, to hear her voice clearly; clearer than when she read him poetry.
and then he saw him.
he did not have a complicated relationship with the man trying to steal her.
he hated that man. he made him violent and angry and selfish. made flashes of jealousy burn in his chest and his hands. it crawled over his skin, clawing at him, whenever that man was around.
she was his and that man needed to go.
YOU ARE READING
slashers x reader
Fanfictionlittle drabbles ive taken from my tumblr account! a majority are male/amab reader but i do take requests!
