#his loved ones are understanding about the situation

[lilacgaby]

katsuki didn't expect to be here today.

with you, a gorgeous woman at that, laid in his arms. found passed out in the meadows, a flower bed beneath the two of you. time still, wind blowing through your bodies as you rested.

he had been out hunting, blowing off smoke. annoyed at his current situation of being forced to marry a woman he didn't know, one who'd likely never love him. one he knew he'd never love.

a life of loveless marriage, one he was raised under, scared him more than he'd pray tell.

he'd rushed out quickly, barging through the servants, the large doors, and his grand estate. only his bow and sword on him as he trekked through. familiar lands enveloped him, but the sight of you didn't. more importantly, the sight of you, who had started falling.

he was moving before he realized, catching you in muscled arms, the sad crunches of ruined flowers beneath him. though none compared to the sight of the one he held now.

his bow and sword discarded, hands moving out of instinct to wipe the tears off of your face. it was clear you weren't supposed to be out here, your dress one of a high noble, silks too expensive for a common folk to afford. a satchel.. one that bore an emblem that seemed all too familiar. thoug it didn't take his full attention. his body seemed all to keen to focus on you, his chest sought to match your breaths, hearts beating in tandem.

you awoke just a few moments later, eyes wide at the sight of him. he settled you next to him, as you spoke to him. "thank you, i don't know what came over me." you spoke gently, a tone of unconfidence as you looked down at your hands. a ring on your finger.

though it looked unfit on you.

"i understand." he replied gruffly, picking up his weapons behind him, hands feeling antsy to be occupied at the sight of the gorgeous stranger in front of him. "bad feelings 've been in the air lately, it seems."

you looked up at him finally, allowing him to get a clear view of your face. with eyes puffy, lips swollen and bitten, and cheeks red. he fought off a smile, this wasn't the time to be thinking of how cute you looked.

you let out a sigh of sorrow. "it's been getting to all of the heirs of age, it seems."

he held you for a minute longer, hands grasped together tightly, wordless comfort based of mutual understanding given. neither of you said anything, but you both felt like you needed it. he knew it in the way you didn't want to let him go. and you knew it in the way he didn't. it was hard for him to pull away, but he knew he had to.

after a beat, he stood up. lowering a hand to you. "no sense in worrying about the inevitable," you smiled slightly and took his hand. "right."

he looked at the sun, it was slowly falling, prime hunting time. "you should head back to wherever you came, it'll be night soon." you nodded, and brought a bag up from the floor, you opened it, and a bracelet was in your palms.

you handed it to him, the red ruby of the beads matching his eyes as they shinned in the sun. "take this, please."

he was taken aback, seemingly unaware of why you would do this for him. he tried pushing your hand away, but it was unrelenting. a stubborn look in your eyes and he rolled his, sliding it onto his wrist.

he moved to leave, when you grabbed your wrist. it was out of impulse, he felt the internal panic in your stance, your mouth hung open slightly, though no words escaping. finally though, you manage a weak, "your name?"

for the first time since his arrangement, he laughed. laughed at the simplicity of the gesture, at your expression, at his situation.

with a boyish smile, he rested your hand at your side, touch lingering for a second too long. "call me katsuki."

he turned to leave, feet feeling a little more heavy now, knowing he was walking away from you. someone he seemed to get along with so easily.

you yelled your name after him, the crunches of the grass underneath your shoes fading away too. you were gone now.

he looked back at you, feeling the beads of the bracelet under nimble fingers, before squeezing it in his palm.

the hunting went poorly, he was too distracted to aim. the night went painstakingly fast, the arrival of the family, his wife, the agenda for the day.

uncomfortable traditional clothes felt even heavier now, the chains of being binded to someone he didn't know being heavier than any chain he could break physically.

his head that was slumped on the table was now forced up, his mother kicking him in the foot to remind him to at least try and be polite. he sighed, a feeling of dread hanging over him as the footsteps neared.

each one was sealing his fate, the door click the nail in the coffin.

but all his negativity vanished, all poor thoughts ceasing at the sight of you. your eyes were just as wide as his, your hand over your face in shock. the entourage beside you confused at your expression.

"madam?"

"katsuki?" you whispered under your breath.

though he managed to hear you. how could he not when you demanded his attention so seamlessly?

but now it was his turn to be speechless. speechless at the prospect of your rank, of your arrival,

and at the realization that he'd be married to you.

tags: @k0z3me @darhinadadragon @maddietries @exoticrasin @lavendarstarz @hisonlyobsession @i-the-fluffo @cookielovesbook-akie @frosted-flakes @irenne-stans @lulumi1u @bakunis @twirlyphim @drawingforshitsandgiggles

[sparrow-and-seed-scrawls]

The Covington Manor Library was quite large and quite elegant. Shelves towered high above, practically scraping the glass ceiling. Old plush chairs and velvet cushions rested in nooks, furniture so old it was quite possibly permanently stuck in the maroon carpet.

The cat had spent hours in here, reading novels and essays from the lap of Mr. Covington II and teaching himself to understand human language. It was Mr. Covington II who’d realized the cat’s affliction. It was he who’d taken the secret of this affliction to the grave, lest a greedy scientist pull the cat’s heart out and try to create the affliction of immortality themselves.

It was nothing but an affliction. The cat never thought of it otherwise. He’d seen generations of Covingtons live and die, marry and divorce, celebrate and weep. And he’d comforted other animals in their final days—dogs, cats, a parrot long ago. He told them it would be okay, they had loved and been loved. They were safe. They could go.

And yet he was still here, the oldest member of the family. A four-hundred-year-old black and white longhaired cat who could read and understand human language. Who had seen empires rise and fall. Who’d lived through tragedies and storms.

And the two people who knew of his affliction had died three hundred years ago.

He needed to let someone know of this dire situation. Someone to help him find a cure so he could live out his days the way he was meant to. Or, at least, someone to keep him from losing his entire feline mind.

No one older than sixteen could know, the cat had long ago realized. That was a rule. Something strange happened when children turned seventeen—they grew up and lost their imagination. They shunned creativity and anything that was unusual.

It was too dangerous to tell anyone over sixteen. He wouldn’t do it again.

The large oak door to the Covington Manor Library swept open, then. Dust filled the air and the smell of faux cherry and strawberry drowned the cat’s lungs.

No one had been in here for years! The cat sneaked in and out through an unsecured window, but no human had stepped foot in the library for 1,345 days, and now—

What the dickens was going on?

“You’re Whiskers Covington!” Small hands wrapped around the cat’s belly and lifted him from his loaf on the velvet cushion. “You’re grandfather’s cat!”

The cat struggled, flicked his tail back and fourth. What was the child doing? He pushed and twisted until he could see into her dark brown eyes.

She was young—maybe ten-years-old? Her curly black hair was pulled back into a knot. And was that strawberry smell her chapstick? Egh.

But then she gently ran a finger over the cat’s nose and up between his eyes. Exactly where Mr. Covington II had used to pet him.

The cat, to his horror and humiliation, began to…

purr.

He tried to stop it, truly. It wasn’t elegant! It exposed his feelings! He hadn’t purred for anyone since Miss Rosemary, the maid from the Great Depression. But it was so nice, and her arms were so warm…

The child climbed into the plush chair, then, and pulled an old photo album from the shelf. She finally let the cat go to settle next to her. He should’ve raced from the room to regain his composure… but who was left to judge him? Those he knew were all dead, and the new Covingtons—the late Marcy Covington’s family, the cat’s latest owner—must have only just inherited the manor. He’d never seen this Covington child before in his life.

But she was one of them, he realized. Her nose had the slight curve of Mrs. Franny Covington’s. She had the curls of Benjamin Covington. And as she gently ran a finger between the cat’s eyes, the cat came to the conclusion that perhaps this new Covington would be the one he could confide in. The one who would find out about the family’s history and what had led to this strange affliction and the whole mountain of hidden lies.

Perhaps things would finally calm, and life would be comfortable for a little bit.

But for now, the cat simply relaxed into the child’s side and closed his eyes.

A nap was in order.

Your grandparent passes and your parents inherit the palatial estate as well as the care for its cat. After going through several family records you realize the cat has been inherited throughout the generations. You try telling others but they forget. Now it keeps trying to be alone with you.

[whokilledsamara]

I love your Homicipher hc, they are so good! Would you be willing to do some N/ SFW for Mr. Chopped too? Like you did for some of the others? I understand if you don't want to or if it makes you uncomfortable, thank you anyway!

MR. CHOPPED N/SFW HCS

a hc list of Mr. Chopped x reader {an: SORRY GUYS IM POSTING MAINLY HCS RN,,, fics for me take a lot longer than usual so im just posting hcs to atleast get some reach.}

warnings! : smut, cunnilingus/blowjob, idk,,, cuckhold

{an: freaky shit,,,, like hes just a head so its kinda hard to fuck. did give him a section for IF he had a body.. MAINLY HIM GIVING HEAD,, i didnt rly know how to write this im sorry!! def will write more tho,,, im into him ngl}

SFW

what it would be like to be in a relationship with Mr. Chopped.

it would be relatively hard to be in a relationship with him for obvious reasons, though not impossible!

the thought of you makes him happy, and especially when you hold him.

he would have Mr. Silvair help most of the time. usually for the romantic aspects of things though.

while Mr. Silvair doesnt quite understand the relationship, he is glad to help.

being a talking head will obviously raise a few insecurities, so just reassure him that you indeed do love him! he gets his feelings hurt easily.

he absolutely loves when you play with his hair. if you put bows in it or decorate it, that will make it all the more special for him.

the first time he bit you when he was sleeping, had him crying for hours. he felt so bad that he harmed you in any way, and it took a while for him to "recover"

he loves kisses! he always shouts things like "Up, Up" or "Desire, Carry!" just so he can kiss you.

if you manage to get a hold of make up or something, he would absolutely love for you to do his makeup. {he likes to feel pretty}

he is a very sensitive boy, also a crybaby. how cuuuttteee...

if Mr. Silvair gives him a body, {ignore that one ending... we dont talk about it} then he wpuld be even more excited to see you.

the moment he gets a body would mean so many hugs and affection as a thank you for saving him.

he gets picked on a lot by the others so he usually tries his best to come to you.

NSFW

sex...?

sex is definitely a hard concept with him.

while yes, it is possible, just not in the way intended.

you could see him more as a pure object for your pleasure honestly, and he wants that.

whether you are amab or afab, he is perfect for the situation.

ive seen this referenced by another writer, but he would be like a "rose toy" or a "fleshlight" as people call it.

its a secret pleasure to watch you go at it with someone else. {ex: Mr. Silvair or someone.}

if he is gifted a body though, he definitely will pay you back for saving him in the first place.

personally he would be a soft and sensual lover with his new body, rarely going rough unless specifically asked to.

he is more of a giving top. definitely not dominant but is a top. he cares more about your pleasure than his. though, he does get all giddy when you wish to go down on his or something.

he is open to literally anything you want, he would have very few limitations on what he would do, but everything is open for discussion.

again, definitely either wants to watch you have sex with someone else, OR wants someone else to watch you and him go at it. {he would prefer Silvair.}

he definitely likes when you pull his hair or use him. will be submissive sometimes.

he is the type to cry during sex...

omfmg i love him sm

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

[darnell-la]

Love your work! it’s so good, i was wondering if i could request another darkpervy!Logan and reader, She’s sleeping and he sneaks into her room and does whatever, you can decide if she wakes up or not and what they do, thank you!

note: we’ve been gone for a little, but we could never not come back with a dirty, dark, and pervy Logan Howlett post.

———

Logan wasn’t the type to think about secrets the group exposes on themselves on their drunk Friday nights, but what y/n had said earlier had been in his head for the last hour.

“Is it normal to, like, pass out after you finish? I’m not joking- Shop laughing!”

Everyone took what she said as a normal dirty secret, but Logan? God, he got hard within seconds of hearing her secret.

Now the man is outside of her room, listing through the thick door for her moans. He could tell she was close.

“F-Fuck,” y/n whined as her legs began to shake. Logan did his best to keep himself back from cumming right then. Her voice was enough to make a mess in his pants.

After Logan heard a few whines that sounded low and dead, he knocked on her door. He prayed she wouldn’t answer, and thank god she didn’t.

Logan quickly entered her room, closing and locking the door before anyone saw him in the hallway.

The man slowly turned around and met y/n’s sleeping body. She really wasn’t lying.

Logan was excited, heart pounding as his cock twitched. He knew tonight would be the best night he’s ever had.

“Can smell that pussy from over here…” Logan spoke low as he came up to her bed. He thought about taking his time, maybe eating her out or jerking off over her face, but he decided he needed to be in her.

Logan quickly undressed himself before hovering over her, getting in between her loose legs to spread them apart. “So perfect,” was all he could say.

Y/n isn’t too much of a heavy sleeper after she goes out after an orgasm, but for some reason, she hasn’t woken up yet. That orgasm had been one of the top bests.

“Gonna get this done quick and easy, okay, princes?” Logan spoke as he began pushing at her entrance, instantly feeling her tighten around his shaft. Logan groaned loudly as y/n whined, slowly waking up.

Y/n spoke, but Logan couldn’t understand her. She hadn’t even known what she said. She was out of it, and that only made her look better to the man.

“Keep it down, baby,” Logan said as y/n’s head slowly began to move, but she wasn’t fully awakened. She knew something was going on, but she felt pressure in her lower stomach and head. She felt a good kind of dizzy.

“So fuckin’ wet, Bub. You weren’t gonna tell me this? I thought we were close friends?” Logan said as his hands grabbed her lower body, pulling her into his now hard and deep thrust.

Y/n’s eyes squeezed before she tried opening them. She had failed a few times until they finally opened. That meant nothing though, as they were rolling to the back of her head from the sudden pleasure.

“Feels good, sweetheart? Tell me. Tell me you feel good, y/n”, Logan growled as he looked down at her smaller girl, watching her struggle to stay awake and take him.

“Lo?” Y/n asked, which came out as a whine. “Ah huh, I’m right here, baby. It’s me,” the man assured as her hands touched anywhere to grasp what was happening to her.

“L-Lo,” y/n whined, feeling his cock slip into her with ease as she grew more wet. Now she knew she was being fucked, but her brain still couldn’t comprehend the situation.

“Don’t worry — I’m close,” Logan spoke, confusing y/n as she slowly lifted her head. The young lady focused on what was thrust in and out of her cunt, and when she realized it, she couldn’t help but moan.

“Logan,” y/n whined, eyes still on the way his cock pushed into her. “You like it?” Logan asked again as one hand rested on the back of her head, keeping her up to see the view as the other strongly gripped her waist.

“I-I don’t know,” y/n said, but lord knew she loved this. “C’mon, Bub — Tell me you like it. You take me too good not to like it,” Logan said, feeling himself near. “I-I like it,” Y/n’s low voice echoed through his brain.

“Fuck yeah — You fuckin’ like it, baby? Like me having my way with your half-unconscious body?” Logan couldn’t stop thinking about how much he loved her being this way. He never knew this was a kink until earlier today.

“I-I do,” y/n replied right before a pool of cum gushed out of her. “Oh yeah, baby — That’s what I like to see,” Logan picked his pace up, feeling his cock goat h uncontrollably.

“Once I fill you up, I won’t be able to stop,”

[no-144444]

prince charming- l.norris

summary: lando brings his niece to the ballet, who knew he'd find love?

pairing: lando norris x fem! ballerina! reader

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Another show finished, another day done. All you had to do was meet some children and show them around the stage. It was a thing the company had decided to do after every single show, and you were one of the only ballerinas who enjoyed it. Everyone else ran out of there as fast as they could, but you stayed around, in full costume, showing them everything. 

“Y/n! Y/n! Look!” Mila, the little girl that had been assigned to you pulled on your hand and you followed her over. “It’s your Prince Charming!” She pointed at your co-star, Richard, who was playing Prince Charming while you played Cinderella. He was lovely and one of your best friends, but Mila’s face fell when she saw him kiss another girl, aka his actual girlfriend Mia. “He’s kissing someone else!” she gasped, looking at you hurt. 

You smiled. “We’re only together in the show, remember? My name isn’t Cinderella, is it?” You chuckled and she nodded, laughing. “So, that’s Richard, and he’s Mia’s real-life Prince Charming, not mine.”

She nodded understandingly. “Do you have a Prince Charming?”

You internally cringed, why did kids always want to know about your love-life? “No,” you smiled. 

Her face lit up. “OH! Perfect! Uncle Lala!” she called for her uncle to come over as your face fell. “Uncle Lala will you be Y/n’s Prince Charming so she can be my Auntie and we can have fun forever?!” 

Mila’s excited face and the ridiculousness of her statement, reminding him she truly didn’t know how the world worked, made him giggle. And with Lando, when he starts, he doesn’t stop. It took a whole minute for him to stop laughing, while you sat there awkwardly. You knew who he was, you knew why he was laughing, but it was still rude. Just say no, dude. 

“Mila, it doesn’t work like that,” he explained. “She’s way too pretty for me,” he whispered, sitting down beside her, and in front of you. 

Your eyes widened and you looked down, confused at the entire situation. 

“I know she is,” Mila answered (subtle dig at her uncle, but alright). “But you could ask her to dance or something. Princesses like dancing.”

Lando shook his head. “I’m an awful dancer.”

“Why do you just try talking to her!” Mila scoffed, then ran off to go look at some of the set of the show. 

You looked up and met his eyes and you both started laughing. “I’m so sorry about her, she gets like this sometimes,” he admitted, a slight blush on his cheeks. 

“It’s alright, it happens sometimes,” you waved him off, an easy smile on your face. 

“You get hit on through people’s nieces a lot?” he questioned. 

You chuckled. “It’s more common than you think, people love the ballerina shtick.”

He laughed. “How old are you?”

“I’m 23,” you answered. “And I’m Y/n.”

“I’m Lando,” he held his hand out to be shaken. “Nice to meet you.”

“NIce to meet you too,” you smiled, shaking his hand. “Congratulations on the year you’ve had.”

“You watch F1?”

You nodded. “My mom has been into it since she was a kid, she gave that to me, so… yeah.”

“Who’s your favourite driver?” he smirked and you chuckled. 

“Nico Hulkenberg,” you smirked. 

He chuckled. “Understandable,” he smiled, nodding. “Mila is probably off somewhere trying to destroy your set, I should probably go grab her.”

You both got up and smiled at each other. “It was nice to meet you.”

“It was nice to meet you too, Prince Charming,” you joked, he giggled. 

And that was that. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

For the next few days, Lando could not get you out of his head. You were funny, kind, beautiful, good with Mila, everything he wanted in a person, yet he’d let you slip away. You weren’t even on social media, but he followed the company’s instagram and some of your friends to see pictures of you. He decided, once the season ended, he’d go back and find you. Maybe he really could become your Prince Charming. 

He joined the rest of the crowd in their standing ovation as you bowed, smiling brightly. He waited around and followed a few more people backstage to finally see you again. 

“Lando?” you questioned as you looked at him from behind. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you again,” he shrugged. “Happy holidays.”

You smiled. “So it is true,” your eyes shone with a hint of mischief. “You did follow the company account.”

He screwed his face up in a half-smile-half-grimace, he’d been caught. “You don’t have a public account, thought it would be weird to follow you on your private one.”

You chuckled. “I would’ve let you follow me,” you told him. “You are my Prince Charming, right?”

He beamed. “Right,” he nodded. “Dinner?”

“Let me get out of costume,” you agreed. You started to walk off and he didn’t follow, unsure what to do. You turned back and grabbed his hand. “Come on!”

He was very happy he had brought Mila to the ballet.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[questionablehuman444]

THANK YOU. Someone put my thoughts into the correct words, and it makes me thoroughly happy.

Dick definitely has eldest daughter syndrome, but Tim was "really mature for his age"

(more below cut)

Okay, Dick holds the weight of the world on his shoulders as the oldest. He's the one everybody goes to when they're having problems with Bruce. He's the "trusted adult". He's the guy who has the ability to get people to open up, and let him help them. It weighs on him a lot as a result.

Dick feels that if he isn't constantly there for people, then he's failing, not only as a hero but as a brother and a friend. (I could also talk about how he leans into the himbo persona because his self esteem is a tripping hazard in hell, but that's for another time)

Then, you look at Tim. He's self sufficient, he's easy, and he's smart. Tim has gifted child syndrome. People think that since he's more mature, he can handle more. So they start treating him like an adult and whenever it's convenient, they double back to treat him like a kid.

So often, the adults in his life were emotionally inept, and their love for him was so often conditional. He had to grow up quick because nobody else wanted to.

Something I think about is how, despite Dick and Tim having similar experiences and bearing the weight of the world, they don't want to hurt each other more. Dick doesn't want to fuel Tim's gifted kid syndrome and Tim doesn't wanna fuel Dick's eldest daughter syndrome. They can't talk to each other because they're aware of the other person's situation, and don't want to continue fueling the other person's problems when, in reality, it would probably be the best course of action for the two of them.

They're so afraid of making the other's problems worse by talking, that they're don't realize that they're actually just harming the both of them. They fail to realize that they're stripping away the only other person who could fully understand in a way beyond just comprehending the words and feelings being told, the only other person who knows the family on a personal level and can empathize from a place of mutual feelings. They taking away the one person who *Gets It* fully and completely.

Anyway, sorry for rambling, I really like talking about things like this. Thanks for reading if you made it this far lol. I had a lot of fun writing all this.

Dick is for the eldest sibling while Tim is for the parentified children and I think that's the most important difference between them

[jessjad]

Rightfully deceived

Chapter 5

Summary: When a marriage promise forces Y/N to step up for her younger sister, she gets something she always wanted. But when the truth comes out, her new husband Dean is not so happy about the mix-up. Will she loose it all? Or will she be surprised in the end?

Pairing: AU!Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 5355 (Sorry! 🙈)

Warnings: 18+ only!!! arranged marriage, some tension, angst, perilous situation, smut

A/N: This is a long one, guys. But I didn't want to split it up again. All mistakes are mine! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

Running down the stairs Y/N saw Millie standing at the bottom who called after her, but she could not stop. She told her that she needed a minute and kept running out of the castle. She did not care about the looks from the others as she ran towards the staples. But she did not stop there.

Benny called after her, Sam too who stood next to him, but Y/N gave them no reaction. After she left the stable behind her, she just kept running. Up the next hill as far as her feet would take her and until the castle was no longer visible. Y/N first stopped again at a small group of trees where she could hide inside. She needed time to think and just wanted to be alone. At least for a little while.

Here, her tears could fall freely and her heart could break. Another crack breaking the smooth red surface. She just didn't know what to do anymore. Dean wasn't on her side. No, he preferred another woman. And of course she understood his anger, but it had been over two months now. He should slowly get used to it or at least try to understand her side. It wasn't easy for Y/N either.

The fact that she loved Dean didn't make it any easier. His distance and that cold shoulder hit her hard. It could be so easy, if only he saw her as more than the woman who had robbed him of his happiness. He didn't mention Helena anymore, but sometimes she had the feeling that he looked at her and saw her sister's face.

Maybe she should just walk away, pack her things and disappear. Unfortunately it wasn't that easy. She had no money of her own and there was no question of her taking Dean's money. And she couldn't and didn't want to go back to her father. She missed her clan and the life she was used to for so long, but she actually wanted to start over here with Dean. She loved him and that was the problem. Deep down, she just couldn't leave him. She was hopelessly lost.

A cool wind rushed through the branches and leaves, swirling the fabric of her dress. If only she had grabbed a coat. She found a moss-covered spot near the roots of a large tree, where she sat down and leaned her back against the trunk. She wasn't ready to go back yet.

Dean had just stared after Y/N before the anger caused him to sweep his desk empty with his arm and knock any objects onto the floor. He took a few deep breaths before took to his heels and ran after her. At the bottom of the stairs, Millie was standing exactly as he had left her before.

"Where is she?" he asked and Millie pointed a finger to the door.

"She went out."

So Dean made his way towards the entrance of his castle, but Millie hold him back.

"Dean, wait!" she lightly grabbed his arm to stop him. "Don't go after her. At least not right now."

"What?" his brows furrowed. "But I need to talk to her."

"I know her, Dean, believe me. She was so upset... give her some time to calm down. No matter what you said to her now, she would take it the wrong way."

"I... I don't like that. I should talk to her right now. There was a misunderstanding that needs to be cleared up."

And by that he meant the last sentence that slipped out of his mouth. He shouldn't have said that and he had to clarify that. But he also had to clarify other things. Y/N's words had made him think and he had realized that his behavior towards her simply wasn't fair. However, he had been staying away from her for different reasons than she probably assumed.

"What happened up there?" MIllie asked.

Just as Dean was about to tell him about the package, the door opened and Benny and Sam walked in. So the two men were also brought up to date and then Dean expressed Y/N's suspicion that it was Cassie. Sam and Benny exchanged a look that didn't go unnoticed by Dean and Millie looked down so as not to reveal that she knew about this assumption.

"What? You already knew about it?" he asked incredulously.

"Dean..." Sam started. "Cassie always wanted to marry you."

"So what? That's her motive? She knew that I was going to marry someone else."

"Yeah, but she was not happy when she heared that Y/N is not the right woman." Benny said.

"I mean... you only need to look how she behaves infront of you." Sam pointed out.

"And how she behaves towards Y/N. She makes it pretty clear that she is not happy that Y/N is here."

Well, that were news to Dean. But on the other hand, he had been gone for a while. He had never noticed that Cassie avoided Y/N like that. No matter who he saw Y/N with, they all seemed to like her now and she seemed to get along with everyone. She fit the bill really well.

"Okay. This is not happening. Not under my watch." Dean said and made his way back up the stairs. "Call everyone into the dining hall!" He had to do something.

Fifteen minutes later all the clan members were gathered around the large table, at the head of which Dean stood, the package in his hand. A murmur went through the crowd as no one could really explain what the problem was. Dean looked around and saw Jo and Alex standing with Cassie. Benny was standing near the door and Sam was across the room from him. Millie had fought her way to Jo without Cassie or Alex noticing her.

"When I came back from my business trip today, I actually had the impression that everything was fine. But then Y/N found this in our bedroom." and with a thud he dropped the package onto the table after removing the lid.

The severed cat's head almost fell out of the box, causing shocked exclamations among those present.

"This is a threat that should go to Y/N. But this threat also goes to me and I cannot and will not accept that. Y/N is now my wife and I had the impression that you all received her well But apparently I was wrong."

An incomprehensible murmur now went through the crowd, accompanied by the underlying question of who could do such a thing. Dean observed the reactions of the different people, but couldn't notice anything unusual, not even with Cassie.

"So that's how it's going to go here now." Dean raised his voice a little so that everyone would really listen to him. "Whoever did it has the opportunity to own up to it and admit it now. However, if that person doesn't speak up and I find out who it was...then God have mercy on him."

It was slowly getting dark and the temperature had dropped noticeably, but Y/N still couldn't go back. She had seen Sam and Dean riding horses across the countryside, calling out to her. She could also hear Benny, who was probably looking for her somewhere near the stables. Still, she couldn't reveal herself.

If Dean confronted her now, she would probably pour her heart out to him. She had noticed one thing in the last few hours. Her nerves were pretty thin and she wouldn't be able to handle any further rejection of her confession. She still hadn't completely calmed down. So she would now wait until the men gave up their search for the day and then sneak into Arrow's stable.

It took a few hours until Y/N felt safe enough to head back. By now it was pitch black and the cold was now creeping into her bones. Even though she was probably no longer visible, she walked slowly and deliberately. Always keeping an eye on the castle and its surroundings while she ducked again and again.

A lantern was burning in the stable and the candle wouldn't last much longer. However, it still provided enough light for Y/N to find the right box. As soon as Arrow recognized her, he whinnied happily and raised and lowered his head. She immediately tried to calm him down so that he wouldn't give her position away. However, that took a few moments.

"Oh Arrow. What am I supposed to do?"

The horse pushed Y/N's head closer to him as soon as the young woman stood in the box with him. As if he understood her words and recognized that she was struggling inside. She hugged him back, enjoying the feeling of safety and familiarity in that moment.

"That came from the stable! I think it was Arrow!"

Suddenly she heard Benny's voice, which seemed to come from the castle. But he wasn't alone.

"I'll take a look!" Alex called back, seemingly closer.

Oh no, she didn't want to be discovered yet. But after looking around and not really finding a place to hide, Y/N went to the end of the box, sat on the floor and piled the hay up above her. She tried to hide under it as best she could and just hoped she wouldn't be noticed.

Then she heard footsteps coming towards her. She could still see a little through the pile of hay above her head and at some point she saw Alex's legs and how he was walking through the stable. He stopped briefly at Arrow, spoke a few words to him and then went out again.

"She is not here. Everything looks normal." Alex stated as he seemed to walk back to the castle.

Relief flooded through Y/N ​​and she was able to release the breath she had previously been holding. Quietly and carefully, she dug herself out of the hay again. The candle in the lantern barely gave off any light now. Arrow came over and sat down next to her, resting his head on her lap. Y/N also leaned into him a little.

"Just a little longer." She whispered while petting Arrow. "I'll just stay with you a little longer and then I'll go back."

Dean paced around the bedroom. It was already the middle of the night and Y/N still hadn't returned. A bad feeling slowly began to spread within him. After all, it was his fault that it had gotten this far. He had scared her away and made her feel like running away was the only solution. His absence and the silence with which he had punished her had been too much.

And yes, he now knew that he had unconsciously punished Y/N with his behavior. He hadn't married the woman he wanted and in a way Y/N was to blame. But that wasn't really why he had acted like that. Because now he also knew that there was an even more confusing reason for him. He stopped in front of the window and looked out into the cold, dark night.

Back then he had already imagined everything in his head. What the wedding with Helena would be like, their life afterwards here in his castle. What the next five years could have been like. The first child, then the second. For a long time these had just been fantasies for him, but after he got to know Helena, he could easily imagine that the fantasies could be true. He had really had feelings for the young woman.

But then the wedding night was over and in the next morning came disillusionment. He hadn't married Helena, but Y/N. That really threw him off track. And yet there were parallels between him and his wife. That's why he took her with him. And actually he had planned to just see how it goes. It was just the way it was now.

But the journey back to the castle alone had been a challenge. As soon as Y/N sat in front of him, his penis began to stir again. Her soft, round ass against his hips, the scent that wafted from her hair into his nose, had inevitably brought back the images of their night together.

And from then on, every night had been difficult for him. Every minute he had been alone with Y/N ​​he had had to pull himself together. So often his fingers had itched to hold her in his arms or even kiss her. But he wasn't sure if she would have wanted that. After all, she had married him out of necessity and not because she wanted to.

So he went on business trips. But the distance didn't make things any better. When he lay in bed at night and let his thoughts wander, he always saw Y/N in front of him. He thought of her, of the things she had told him and of their night together. She had really caught him off guard and made him long for her. How crazy was all that?

He couldn't stay in the room any longer. With his coat in hand, he made his way back downstairs. The castle lay still and quiet, peaceful, as if nothing had happened. He opened the door and stood on the stairs, his gaze turned back to the dark landscape. His wife was out there somewhere and he was just hoping she would come back so he could talk to her and explain himself. So he could finally do it right.

"Dean?"

Slightly startled, Dean turned to the voice and recognized Ellen, who was standing in front of the kitchen with a candle in her hand and looking at him in surprise.

"What are you doing here?" she asked and came over to him.

"Y/N is still out there somewhere. She still hasn't come back." his gaze turned back.

"But she will come back eventually. She probably just needed time. After what you told me, Dean... you really made a mistake."

"I know!" he exclaimed angry at himself. "But I'm hoping it's not to late now."

Ellen didn't say anything else, but her heart ached a little for Dean. She was also worried about Y/N and hoped that she would show up again soon. She placed a warm hand on Dean's shoulder, showing him her silent support. After a few minutes, however, she broke the silence again.

"Has anyone come forward about the allegations yet?"

"No. And it looks like noone will either."

"She was really on edge last week. Whoever followed her had made her feel really uneasy."

"You also knew about it?" Dean asked surprised.

"Yes. She told me about it."

"Did she also tell you that she that she suspected Cassie?"

"No. But that does not surprise me." Dean looked at Ellen questioningly and she smiled a little. "Have you ever seen how she looks at you? She's jealous. And she's ignoring Y/N since the moment she came here. It would make sense."

With that Ellen was right, but he could hear a 'but' in her sentence. So he asked he to explain.

"when you called the meeting this afternoon and showed us what it was about, Jo overheard Cassie talking to Alex."

"And?" Dean now was eager to know.

"She wasn't as shocked as everyone else about the contents of the box, but she was probably still surprised. And then she said to Alex that she thought the act was good and that it was a shame that she hadn't thought of it herself."

"So she indirectly admitted that it wasn't her... And Jo believes her?"

"Yes. And I believe that too, by the way." now Dean looked surprised and Ellen explained her statement. "She once helped me in the kitchen and was supposed to pluck a chicken. She almost vomited. And the animal was already dead."

"So she couldn't have killed the cat." Dean mused.

"No. Not her. Unless she had an accomplice. But I believe Jo that it wasn't Cassie. My daughter has known her longer than I have."

That made sense in Dean's eyes. "But who was it then?"

"That's exactly the question, Dean. Who did it?"

Early the next morning Benny made his way to the stable. He hadn't been able to find any real peace either. So he wanted to check on Arrow. The sky slowly became brighter, making last night's frost glitter like stars. It had been the coldest night yet. He lit the lanterns and then ran the boxes. Everything seemed quiet, but when he glanced into Arrow's box, he had to do a double take.

There, right next to Arrow in the hay, lay Y/N and she was pretty pale. Benny walked straight towards her, which startled the horse, but it remained calm on the ground. Upon closer inspection, Benny saw that Y/N had sweat on her forehead and her lips were blue.

He didn't have to think about it for long. Benny lifted her out of the hay into his arms and made his way to the castle. She urgently needed to get somewhere warm and Dean needed to know about it too. He hadn't left the stable when Alex stood in front of him, looking quite frightened.

"Go call Dean. Tell him I found Y/N and that she needs help." Benny ordered, but Alex didn't seem to be able to move. "GO!"

Suddenly the young man came back to life and turned around to run back into the castle. Benny also hurried to get there while speaking quietly to the woman in his arms. He noticed how she was shaking and the cold radiating from her body worried him deeply.

He was just walking in the door when Dean appeared in front of him and took Y/N into his arms. But the two were not alone. Apparently Alex had woken up half the castle.

"Benny, ride off and bring the doctor here immediately! Don't take any detours and if he refuses, then tell him that money doesn't matter!" Dean called over his shoulder as he hurried up the stairs with Y/N.

Millie followed Dean straight up the stairs and opened the bedroom door for him when they reached the top. After they entered, Millie pulled back the covers so Dean could lay Y/N there and tuck her right back in.

"Millie, can you please get a few more blankets from the guest rooms? I'll light the fire in the meantime so that it gets warm in here."

"Of course." Milllie said and set off straight away.

After Millie disappeared from the room, Dean looked down at Y/N. Her face was so pale that her blue lips formed a shocking contrast. God, this was all his fault. Just because he once again spoke first before he could think about his words. So he did something useful and started the fire in the fireplace.

Still, it took over an hour for Benny to get back. Only he didn't have the doctor with him, but someone else. A thin man with dark skin sat on another horse. Not as dark as Cassie's skin, but different nonetheless. He wore a turban on his head.

“Doctor MacGregor wasn’t home. He was called to an emergency in Dundreggan last night. But his guest from India is also a doctor." Benny pointed to the man next to him and introduced him. "This is Mr. Gupta. He's an... ajurwedish doctor. Correct?"

"Yes." the man said with an strong accent. "And I'm here to help. If you're willing to let me."

For a moment Dean was skeptical, but then he remembered that every second counted. And so he gave the man his hand and explained the situation to him as they made their way up to Y/N. He saw the concerned and puzzled looks from some of the others they passed, but he ignored them.

Mr. Gupta examined Y/N thoroughly, explaining every step and his findings to Dean. They had already done the right thing by wrapping her up warm and heating the room well, but that wouldn't be enough.

"She is hypothermic. Her body temperature is already in the critical range. Under no circumstances should the room lose heat. At some point she will try to free herself from the blankets, but that must not happen either."

Meanwhile, Millie was back in the room and she and Dean took in all the information and agreed on care for Y/N in the next few days.

"In addition, I will prepare a decoction and a warming paste for her. If used regularly, her condition should improve in the next week. But it will take time."

But Dean didn't care. The main thing is that Y/N would feel better soon. He wouldn't lose her like this. That was out of the question.

Y/N felt weird. She felt hot and cold at the same time, her head was pounding and she was shaking. She noticed noises but couldn't identify them. In general, she didn't know whether she was dreaming or awake.

Whenever she tried to free herself from the sea of ​​blankets under which she felt buried and was sweating from the heat, Dean's face appeared above her, encouraging her to stay under the blankets.

Other times, when the cold made her shiver and she felt the blankets being pulled away, she tried to bury herself under them again. But even then Dean's face appeared, reassuring her that it wouldn't take long as he caressed her. But when he stopped, these parts of his body became really warm and drove away the cold.

And sometimes she had a terrible spicy taste in her mouth that made her thirsty. Then Millie was with her to help her drink. Or were those just dreams too? She simply couldn't tell the difference and so she always hoped that her consciousness would just slip back into the silent nothingness where she could no longer feel anything.

The next time Y/N woke up she felt different. More awake with a clearer mind. She was still cold, but she finally felt like herself again. And she realized that this wasn't a dream. She was really awake. With tired limbs, she moved slowly and moaned slightly.

"Y/N? Y/N!" She heard Dean's excited voice and searched for him with her eyes once she got used to the brightness.

"How are you? Do you need anything?" suddenly he was at her side, holding her hand.

"No, I... I'm fine. I'm just... a little tired and I'm still a little cold." She said quietly, wondering what even happened.

But it didn't take long for the memories to catch up with her again. She didn't go back the night after she escaped. She had fallen asleep at Arrow's side and had lain in the freezing stable all night. It had been her own fault.

She saw Dean take a deep breath and close his eyes briefly before speaking again. "Stay there. I'll call Millie and the doctor." and then he disappeared through the door.

Half an hour later, Dean made his way outside and walked over to Sam, who was chopping firewood. With a firm step he ran towards his brother, who looked at him worriedly after noticing him. Sam put down the axe.

"Dean? Is everything okay?"

"Yes. Yes, everything is fine." answered the older man, took the ax in his hand and began to boldly chop wood.

"Are you sure? Is something wrong with Y/N?" Sam probed.

"No." he swung the axe. "She woke up and was lucid again." again the ax thundered downwards. "She's doing much better than she has in the last few days." with the third blow the log was split.

But then Sam realized what was really going on with his brother. He had seen how the guilt had eaten away at Dean over the last few days. He had made huge accusations against himself, even if he hadn't admitted it. So Sam left him alone with the firewood, knowing that Dean would have to use it to release his pent-up emotions. But still the hope spread within him that this was finally the turning point.

An hour later, most of the firewood had been cut down and Dean was sweaty and exhausted. But he felt better. Now it was time to start all over again.

He made his way back into the castle when Mr. Gupta came out. Dean thanked him for his help and said goodbye to him with kind words. The doctor had made another decoction and prescribed Y/N two more days of bed rest in addition to a hot bath, but he was sure that she would recover completely. She just had to take it slowly and Dean would make sure of that.

When Dean came into the bedroom, it wasn't as warm as before and Y/N was still sitting in the hot tub. She was slightly startled when she saw Dean come in, but didn't say anything. That hit Dean a little, but he could also understand her behavior. After all, he was guilty of it himself and it was entirely up to him to change that.

He undressed and walked towards the tub. Y/N scooted forward to make room for him and once he was in the tub, she wanted to get out. But Dean stopped her and made her sit back down. He picked up the bar of soap that was lying on a small stool next to the tub and immediately recognized the scent. That's why Y/N always smelled so seductive.

By now the bar of soap was pretty thin and he made a mental note that he needed to bring her some again. After Dean had cleaned himself up, he leaned back in the tub and gently pulled Y/N along by the shoulders. She reacted a little stiffly at first, but quickly relaxed again and secretly enjoyed the feeling of finally being able to be so close to Dean again.

When the water slowly got cold, they got out of the tub again. Dean first so he could grab a towel for Y/N. He held it out to her openly after Y/N also had both feet on dry land and wrapped it around his shoulders. Suddenly they were so close. Body to body, face to face that Dean cleared his throat and had to take a few steps back so he didn't do anything rash.

"Dry yourself off and then go back to bed. I'll get you some real food." Dean said as he quickly got dressed and then disappeared from the room.

Later that evening, when Y/N was slowly making her way to dreamland again, Dean sat by the fire and looked over at the bed. Y/N lay there with her eyes closed, cheeks rosy, hair down and a relaxed expression on her face. And for the first time in days, Dean was able to breathe deeply.

After he had brought his wife and himself something to eat upstairs and they were sitting together, he remembered a situation that had happened in his childhood. On one of their trips when he and Sam were younger, his brother once fell into a frozen lake. Her father noticed immediately and didn't hesitate for a second to pull him out and Sam was quickly fine again.

Nevertheless, he had told Y/N about it and she seemed to just absorb his words. So he didn't stop talking. He told her about many things and she literally hung on his every word. Why hadn't he done this before? It was so easy to confide in her and even though he didn't like talking about himself in general, he felt comfortable with Y/N in doing so.

The tiredness slowly overcame him and so it didn't take long until Dean settled down in bed. Moving close to Y/N, he quickly fell asleep too.

But just a few hours later, Dean woke up with a start. He didn't know why, but his hand immediately searched the side of the bed next to him, expecting to feel Y/N. But her side was empty and already cold.

“Y/N?” he exclaimed, sitting up at the same time.

"I am here. I couldn't stay lying down anymore." She replied quietly with a smile and his eyes found her directly.

She was sitting by the fire, her hair falling over her shoulders and she had a book in her hand. But Dean couldn't take his eyes off of her. The orange glow of the flames painted her face and made her appear almost angelic. Dean's breath caught in his throat and he sank back onto the bed.

'God, she is so beautiful. Why didn't I notice this before?' he thought to himself.

After a moment he straightened up slightly and looked over at Y/N again.

“Will you please come back to bed?”

Y/N looked at him a little surprised, but then nodded. "Okay."

She put her book aside and came back to the bed. Dean had already lifted the blankets, implicitly inviting her to slide closer to him. Y/N was very happy to accept this offer. Once she was at his side, her head on his chest, he covered them both again.

"You really scared me." Dean said shortly afterwards into the comfortable silence.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." Y/N replied quietly.

Dean looked down at Y/N. "Please don't just run away again. Not until I can talk to you."

Upon those words Y/N looked up at Dean. "I won't. I promise." and she meant it, because she wouldn't be able to go through this again.

They looked deeply into each other's eyes and suddenly it was as if time stood still. Dean couldn't hold back anymore. With a hand on her cheek, he leaned down to Y/N until his lips were on hers. He kissed her carefully at first, but Y/N didn't seem to mind the kiss. And as soon as Dean felt her tongue on his lower lip, he was done for.

He deepened the kiss and turned a little more towards Y/N, who was able to put her leg on his hip. His hand moved up her thigh until it came to rest on her ass.

She buried her hands in his hair and began to slowly rub herself against him. She moaned slightly into his mouth while his hand, which was on her butt, went back to wandering. The nightdress that Y/N was wearing had slipped onto her own hips. With his thigh he opened her legs a little more so that his already stiff cock could nestle against her warm center.

Dean could already feel how wet she was and he had to hold himself together not to just push into her. But when Y/N's hand landed on his ass shortly afterwards and she pushed him closer to her, he literally slid into her. So he turned her so that she was lying on her back and sank his last few inches into her.

They both groaned and Dean wasted no time. He moved slowly but forcefully inside her. He carried out each of his thrusts with passion as he uncovered Y/N's breasts and caressed them there with his mouth. He licked her nipples and bit them tenderly, making her moans grow louder.

At some point he picked up the pace a little and licked from her breasts over her collarbone to her neck. That bittersweet pressure built up inside Y/N again and she searched with her lips for Dean's, who was only too happy to kiss her back.

He felt Y/N start to throb around his cock and began to chase his own orgasm. Y/N moved with him, holding onto his shoulders and as she jumped over the edge, he followed her just seconds later. He poured himself deep and hard into her while Y/N enjoyed the aftershocks.

They both looked deeply into each other's eyes as their pulses slowly calmed down. But neither really wanted to let go of the other. So they lay there entangled in each other and fell asleep together again.

A/N: I told you that everything would get better again. Let's just hope it stays that way. 😶 Let me know what you think. Feedback is very much appreciated! 💜

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[bird-inacage]

The Heart Killers EP1: Kant & Bison's Desire for Agency

I recently wrote a post around Kant being the vehicle for Bison's freedom, but I'm spotting a bigger theme that these two lovebirds share in common. Both feel stripped of their agency, their ability to dictate their lives freely on their own terms and by their own ideals and desires.

For that reason, they're respectively struggling with where they are versus where they want to be, as factors beyond their control currently inhibit that from being attainable.

"I've cleared my name of car theft. My hands are so damn clean now." Kant is keen to put his past behind him, however Captain Chris has him cornered under the threat of re-opening his previous felonies and possible jail time, dangling custody of his brother as a bargaining chip. "If you get this done for me, not only will your criminal record be swept away, I'll wipe it clean." "If you go to jail, who'd take care of your brother?" This leaves Kant with no choice but to begrudgingly concede.

Bison feels similarly trapped by a life he didn't choose, clearly eager at any opportunity to 'clock off'. "I do what I have to do. Now I want to do what I want to. Can't I just live a little?" "If being hitmen makes it so hard to live, shouldn't we just quit?" "I don't want to kill people for a living my whole life... I just want to live my life." He just wants to enjoy a normal life - to have fun, to be frivolous, to embrace being a 24 year old.

TOGETHER WE BREAK FREE

Their relationship serves as temporary relief or escape from the situations they both find themselves in. Bison finds Kant's company a break from routine and monotony, a welcome distraction in between killing and working at the burger bar (neither of which he chose for himself). Dating Kant is an insight into the joys of life he fears missing out on. 'When I'm with you, I'm not a killer, I'm just a boy'.

By some poetic irony, Kant's mission to instrument Bison's capture would grant him access to the freedom he is seeking - allowing him and his brother to truly start afresh. There is absolutely more backstory to come as to why Kant wants this so badly, that he’s willing to throw so much in. Dating Bison may begin as a means to an end, but Kant does find himself falling in love, despite his objective.

Once everything is out in the open, I do think they'll aid one another in acquiring the agency they each so desperately desire. No one can better understand how it feels to be trapped than someone who is also fighting against the bars of their own cage.

OVERCOMING YOUR RESTRAINTS

On their first official date, Kant shares the following with Bison: “Would you believe me if I told you that I'm afraid of the ocean? Something happened when I was a kid. I almost drowned. Now I'm still afraid of it." One could argue that we don't know if Kant's admission is true, but I don't see any reason for him to lie about this specifically.

This promptly takes me back to this moment from the trailer, which has prominently stuck in my mind. I still get the impression that they are working together when Kant jumps in. If Bison was on the offensive, I don't think he'd be as stationary or calm. Maybe he's performing under someone's watchful eye, or his gun is aimed at something out of shot, or they're practicing a specific stunt.

Whatever the context, this scene now has considerably more weight. The fact that Kant jumps in whilst his hands are bound, when he has a fear of drowning is an indication he's putting his complete trust in Bison (who is adept at swimming), to rescue him if needs be. The implication here being that Bison may quite literally, mentally and symbolically free Kant from his restraints, helping him to overcome what he’s most afraid of.

BDSM: THE PLEASURE OF CONTROL

Funnily enough, this duo's exploration of BDSM even aligns with their shared desire for agency. From the few snippets we’ve been shown, Bison likes being the one in control. Your partner consents to be at your mercy, affording you the power to enact pleasure and/or pain. And there’s a heady thrill in being handed that control. (It's worth noting the inherent power play in taking a life, but whether Bison derives any pleasure from this, I'm not 100% sure. Kant also knows Bison is capable of killing, so letting him dominate actually says a tonne). During their one night stand, Bison even quips, "you're not doing this solo, you know," which teases that he's no passive participant.

Kant seems happy to indulge Bison in taking the reins. Having his agency taken away during acts of passion, but on his terms is completely different to feeling forcibly pushed - because you've chosen how and who you forfeit that agency to. This is partly why I suspect Kant actually gives Bison permission to tie him up in that boat scene (above).

You can keep tabs on bird-inacage’s BL meta directory for my other long-form posts around The Heart Killers, which I’ll be updating as the show airs.

[lumiidragon]

What was it about THW that made Toothless a flop for you?

I've tossed all sorts of stuff around, so I feel like I'd really be repeating those posts, so I'll just sum it up for simplisity~

-Toothless is a dog in this movie. A horny dog. Not charming compared to the previous two movies.

-Toothless cares about nothing but the Light Fury. There's being in love, and there's being absent from the flock you're supposed to be guarding to go off on some date while your best friend is being left behind to fight the villain.

-Is Toothless an intelligent animal that understands humor, a hostage situation, high speed adaptation to human society, morality, and understanding humans almost on a human level or is he an instinct-driven animal and nothing more? We may never know because HTTYD preached the first half while THW was stuck on the latter unless plot device.

-Toothless gets this redundant super-power to go invisible for...reasons? Like, the Light Fury can't have anything original to her, Toothless MUST have it too because what originally made him unique is now absent and thus something has to be going for him, I guess.

-The dragons don't leave because they're safer in THW. Let's face it, the dragons leave because Toothless wants to be with the Light Fury and rule THW and since he's Berks' alpha, the Berkian dragons really have no say in it. The separation felt more like it was for Toothless, not all dragons.

-Toothless hardly even glances at Hiccup in this movie. His interactions with literally anything else not girlfriend material is actually at 0. Cloudjumper that Toothless just thought was the coolest new friend in HTTYD 2? Who's that? Who cares, new girlfriend.

Toothless getting a girlfriend isn't the issue. The issue is that apparently you can only have a best friend OR a girlfriend. Can't have both. I mean, just look at Hiccup. As soon as Astrid came onto the scene with that kiss after the romantic flight, Hiccup forgot about the rest of the gang for the rest of the movie and Toothless was forced to face Stoick alone until the very end where Hiccup suddenly learned how to be a warrior just a powerful as Astrid and saved the day. The pair then went their ways since Hiccup belongs on Berk where all humans true home is and Toothless can go somewhere else because one day the world will be ready for humans if you sit around and hope instead of educating others and fighting for it.

Yeah, lol, so basically for that last point, it was all about the fact that everything HTTYD stood for with Toothless being a major focal point is tossed to the side. I'm not against separation because it's for the best for all parties involved, but THW is NOT the movie that did that good and instead just made Toothless super unlikable and OOC to make it work. Want a good movie for that? (possible spoiler??) then watch The Wild Robot. Much better.

[thedaselcor]

Here's my take on this one, I did it as my Chater 13!

Thorsday, the 2nd of Maius, 524.

Arthur woke to Merlin thrashing, convulsing through some sort of night terror. He held Merlin close, and tried to keep him from injuring himself through the spasms, but he was entirely uncertain whether that was even the right thing to do.

He noticed, as the minutes went on, that Merlin had been getting increasingly warmer. With growing terror he realized that Merlin was incredibly hot, burning up as if the dreams themselves were causing some sort of incredible magical fever. Arthur couldn't remember the last time he’d felt so powerless. It was a relief then, if a surprise, when Morgana knocked on their door and entered as soon as Arthur was able to stammer some sort of assent.

Morgana walked in, with a confidence and certainty of action Arthur couldn't remember ever seeing in her before. The room seemed to drop in temperature as she crossed in, and, in moments, she brought a hand to Merlin’s chest and one to his face. Arthur could feel the cold radiating off her. Merlin’s temperature crashed drastically as he woke with a start to the cold shock that rippled through from the point of Morgana's contact, and he breathed in sharp and deep like a man just saved from drowning.

“More like the pyre…” Morgana said, responding to the thought Arthur had never voiced.

Merlin panted as he assessed the situation, assessed the room around him, came back to reality, blue eyes betraying an equal measure of absolute understanding and complete bafflement.

Arthur shifted his gaze to Morgana, searching her face for the answers he didn’t know how to ask for. “How did you know?” he managed to ask finally, though the question was woefully inadequate.

“Sometimes we can hear each other, like when I was in the library, like when you helped us with the druid boy,” Morgana answered, but it wasn’t an answer to the question Arthur had been trying to ask.

“No, I mean…” he shook his head, trying to assemble a better question. Still, he only managed, “ how did you know ?”

“Oh!” Morgana exclaimed, as if understanding the misshapen question better this time. “It’s not as complicated as it seems, it was just illusion magic, I focused on making Merlin feel cold rather than changing anything, normally it wouldn’t affect other people, but you and Merlin are… very close , magically speaking. It’s… unusual.”

“ No,” Arthur let out a long, frustrated sigh as he forced himself to reshape the question, to add words. “How did you know about the dream, about the pyre?”

Morgana let out an uncomfortable laugh, as if that question was too obvious to need an answer.

Merlin, gaining more and more of his senses by the minute, ran his fingers gently along Arthur’s arm before answering, pragmatically, “all my dreams end in the pyre, Arthur. Beheadings are reserved for strangers.”

He was too kind to say the rest. Too kind to say, explicitly, your father would punish me for loving you, and he’d make sure that I burned alive if he ever knew the most beautiful part of me , but Arthur still heard it. 

It had been easier to ignore his father’s monstrosity when it wasn’t aimed at the people he wanted most in the world to protect, when it was abstract obligation to Uther versus abstract duty to the people of Camelot. Now, when someone he loved stood in the balance between, when they faced a worse fate because he loved them--the burgeoning flame of Arthur’s hate, so small before this Beltane trip to the country, was bellowed anew by the vile truth of Uther Pendragon, and it threatened to grow and grow until it could consume the world.

Arthur said nothing. He buried his face in Merlin’s shoulder, and dangled in the silence. Arthur had often felt lost in the world or words and feelings, in the world realisations like this one always seemed to thrust him in, and he’d long since learned to be silent and seem uncaring rather than ever risk seeming incompetent--in front of his father, in front of his kingdom, in front of anyone. 

Now, when what Arthur wanted most in the world was to connect, to be soft and vulnerable and honest, to do anything other than dangle in the silence, he had no idea how to find a ledge back out of the chasm. But Merlin just kept running his fingers along Arthur’s arm, and Mrogana didn’t give him the look she often gave him when she thought he was cold or uncaring. It was like they saw him there, dangling and lost, deep beneath the mask that had always rendered him invisible before. Being seen was new, hopeful but uncomfortable. Being seen protected the spriteling flame, promised to direct it to purpose where once it would have been extinguished along with everything hopeful in Arthur’s spirit. Being seen could change everything.

merlin magic reveal fic where arthur asks “why didn’t you tell me?” and merlin says, mirthless smile and haunted eyes “all my dreams end in fire. fire and burning and dying”

[maxdibert]

“Sirius killed people-“ so did Snape, supposedly loved Lily but betrayed her location to Voldemort because he was jealous of James actually winning her heart, not to mention convincing Harry the abuse was his fault, nearly giving Neville PTSD to the point where his boggart was Severus Snape himself, being a racist pos to anyone born of muggle parents, and becoming a high ranking member of the death eaters so what? He could protect Harry?

“It’s easier to cry in a Ferrari-“

it’s easier to defend a terrible character and play the racism and eat the rich card when you can’t understand context and inference clues that JK Rowling laid out.

What’s easy is inventing canon. What a load of made-up nonsense, mate.

1. Learn to read. I didn’t say Sirius killed anyone, but he did attempt murder. And he did it because he thought it was funny to torture Severus.

2. There’s no evidence that Severus killed anyone before Dumbledore asked him for euthanasia. This is made quite clear when Dumbledore talks about his concern for Draco’s soul, and Severus immediately questions him about his own soul. If Severus is so worried about it, it’s implied he hadn’t killed anyone before—or at least not in cold blood.

3. Have you even read the books? The only person who knew the Potters’ location was Peter. He’s the one who betrayed them.

4. There’s no evidence he was a racist. First off, equating racism with the concept of blood purity not only trivializes a serious social issue but also makes it clear that some of you have no idea what racism is or its history. The discriminatory dynamics and their foundations are completely different. But anyway, putting that aside, there’s no evidence whatsoever that Severus discriminated against Muggle-borns. The only time he makes a comment is during the incident with Lily—which, conveniently, happens when James and Sirius are sexually assaulting him, and Lily seems to smile at James. I don’t think you can judge someone’s ideology based on a comment made in an extremely tense moment. Canonically, Severus doesn’t treat Muggle-born students worse in class or make comments about their heritage. Nor does he badmouth Muggles. At most, he makes condescending remarks—which, let’s be real, all the characters do, even the “good ones,” because they’re ridiculously patronizing toward Muggles.

5. Severus was literally a double agent and reached the highest ranks of the Death Eaters to, yes, protect Harry. That’s literally why. He’s following Dumbledore’s orders. Like, have you read the books, or are you just pulling this stuff from fanfics? 99% of what you’ve said so far is pure fantasy, mate.

6. Yes, love, it’s actually pretty easy for me to defend people whose actions are a direct consequence of their life circumstances, and whose poor decisions were directly influenced by a lack of opportunities, security, and the violence of their environment. In fact, that’s literally my job. That’s what I do for a living.

Look, I don’t give a damn if you’re a Sirius fangirl. You can love a character while admitting he was a massive piece of crap. I love The Penguin, and there’s no way to justify him at all. Like, it’s fine, you know? You also have every right to feel sorry for him—I’m not going to judge you for that or anything. I’m not invalidating other people’s feelings if they think Sirius’s life was super tragic and feel a lot of compassion for him. Everyone has their own feelings and points of empathy. But that’s not the case for me. I don’t feel sorry for him. There’s no excuse for being an abusive bully with sociopathic tendencies toward someone who was canonically in a position of social and economic disadvantage. If Severus had come from a good family, with money and power—or if Sirius had been someone without a name, wealth, or status—then I’d view the situation differently because they would have been on equal footing. But just like the Black family chose Muggle-borns to torture because they knew they could, Sirius chose Severus because he knew he could. He’s a hypocrite and a piece of garbage. At least Bellatrix admitted her tendencies.

[tamayula-hl]

Sorry I have skipped answering anonymous messages for a while 🫣

Thank you so much for all the wonderful sunflowers(Himawari)! 😭😭🙏✨🌻💕 (And sorry I'm always getting them and not spreading this joy to other people's inboxes 🙇‍♀️) I'll continue to have fun creating various Slytherins content 💪😌💕.

YESSSS! I want to draw more about Sakurako and I always want to draw something like an introduction sheet about the Seb x Sakurako ship, but there are so many other things I want to draw that those inevitably take a back seat 🤣. But I hope to draw Sakurako soon 💪.

Aww, that's a very great idea! I'd love to see Slytherins struggling with parenting for the first time so I'd love to draw about this one day 😭✨. I can just see Ominis looking troubled and flustered while holding the baby, and Seb at a loss after trying to look things up in a book that he doesn't understand and can't solve… 😏.

ありがとうございます！ I am very happy and honoured to receive such a compliment! I've been studying painting in my sleep lately, so it's a great relief to know that I'm growing thanks to your message!

Personally, I think that the less revealing swimming costumes of the olden days are attractive, but as an artist, it is more fun to draw sexy swimwear, so I would like to draw HL Girls like in the ending of Naruto! 🤣 I'd like to draw about them next summer 🤭

Thanks for showing me a great story! If I get a good idea to illustrate these in pictures, I'd like to draw them someday 🤭💕

I am glad to hear such compliments! Thank you! And ahh, I would very much like to see Ominis in that situation!🥹✨✨ It must be fascinating to see him realising that his partner's unusual voice and breathing is causing them to be injured, and then impatiently trying to treat it as calmly as possible..! I hope to draw this soon 😏😏😏.

In Japan, when drawing a character x OC, we sometimes use a representation without their eyes to show that the OC is a character with no particular backstory or personality (or we sometimes represent the OC as a pure white mannequin, without drawing not only the eyes but also the hair and skin colour)😌 To be honest, I've been struggling for over a year and a half now to decide whether I should or should not draw eyes on personality-less OCs 🤣🤣

Oh, I've been recommended that fiction by various people and would love to read it, but you'll have to forgive me for not having read it yet 😭😭🙏. I'm especially sorry that lately I've been concentrating on my painting studies, cutting down on sleep and food, and I haven't been able to read at all not only the works recommended to me, but even those of my friends I follow: …… I will definitely read those works when I have the mental capacity to do so! 🙇‍♀️

As a Japanese, I would like to draw the HL character in MahouTokoro uniform one day 🤭💪. I think it's supposed to be unclear if Mahoutokoro has dormitory groupings like Hogwarts, and from a Japanese point of view there are a lot of pretty weird things about Mahoutokoro and the Japanese wizarding world, but I enjoy fantasising about these… 😏💕

Of course! I love Japanese anime 😫😫💕. I especially love Naruto, I can't tell you how many fanart and fanfictions I've drawn over the past 20 years since I got into Naruto when I was 10 years old 🤣💕. Death Note and Crayon Shin-Chan are other Anime (Manga) that I've loved for years and years and have had a huge influence on me!

I am so glad you liked the 2024 Slytherins! I think I have discovered a new fascination for them by painting that picture! And I get dizzy just thinking about Slytherins with hair in the picture you sent me 😫🥵💕. They must definitely be cool with long hair too! Especially the long- hair Ominis, I've been wanting to draw him for a long time now🤭 I'll try to draw them with long hair one day 💪💪💪

In fact, just a year ago I drew about Seb like that, though maybe not quite the same 🤭 (https://www.tumblr.com/tamayula-hl/735330297365790720/the-boy-who-recognized-beyond-the-fourth) I like it a lot and your message makes me want to draw again about Seb and Omi who have realised the ‘truth’ 💪😏.

Raraa! The idea of collaborating Sanrio characters with HL characters was unexpected, but it would definitely be cute! ✨💕🤭 That cute but grumpy look of Badtz-Maru and Omi should be a good match… I want to doodle about them soon 🤣🤣

I'd like to draw it someday, and I'd also like to draw, for example, how Seb would look at Anne trying on a slightly sexier swimming costume… 😏😏😏

Perhaps you can find my work if you set it up as per the image below 😌

[wonderhomeland]

I have never written anything in a long time and English is not my first language, but this idea has been in my head for a long time, so...

Warnings/tags : BAd English, fem!reader, obsessed!Simon Riley, possessive!Simon Riley, I have been waiting for years!Simon Riley, Age gap( more than 10 years-simon is older-Simon acts like age doesn't matter.), smat (Only Simon loses his mind thinking about his wife + the things he want to do with her.), Arranged marriage, fluff, A general explanation of the idea at the beginning of the post. Tell me if I forgot anything!

~

An AU where the government uses tests to choose a partner for you, based on DNA, blood type, etc., to find a good match for superior genes. And these tests continue until your early twenties (not like they're in a lab, it's in real life and the tests are taken at school, like exams) and finally by the age of 22 or 23, the person you should "marry" is determined for you.

And during this time, you shouldn't have a relationship with anyone, and you can't break this pre-arranged marriage in any way.

There are people who, for whatever reason, such as their weak genes, never get a partner chosen for them, and even if someone is suitable, they never send their files for two people to get to know each other.

They are not ridiculed or humiliated, They are just not accepted.

And here we have Simon Riley. A boy who is the victim of his parents' forced marriage. He has a bad situation at school and an even worse situation at home. Since childhood, he has always tried to distract himself from all his problems and try to hold on until he realizes what the future holds for him. Simon, who has never felt like he belongs anywhere or to anyone. Even blood relations have not made him to have a good relationship with his brother, now he understands that there is only one person for him and he is only for one person. In his eyes, she is an angel , not just an angel who is going to save him, but an angel who is going to be by his side forever. As he grow up this childish excitement turns into a obsession.

All the people who work on the projects always encourage him and say that he has very strong genes, a very strong and resilient body, he is patient and careful and has a very high leadership intelligence. They says that he is very cooperative in the tests and does his best.

But it never happens. No one in a fancy suit ring his doorbell to give him the good news. To give him the introduction to the person he's always been waiting for. He never hear "Congratulations, Mr. Riley."

Not even after years.

This was strange, he was always complimented, he was always told that he would find someone great, he always hoped that he could be with someone who would love him.

He visited the centers many times. He tried to follow up and even asked to do all the tests again. Surely he wasn't supposed to be alone, right? There must have been a mistake in the results. His file might have been lost.

They never answered him. He was told to wait, some people wait years to get the files.

He waited.

He was a patient man.

Even now, in the garrison corridors, with multiple scars on the body, and a mask on his face, as he was heading to his room after a hard mission, He was waiting.

He packed up his things to go back to his dark, empty apartment for six months. Six months. Half a year. It seems like a long time. But not long enough.

His teammates don't talk to him about it. like this big, strong man who's amazing at everything failed his tests. The big dog who destroys everything on the battlefield, isn't strong enough to beat the tests, the smart leader who always outsmarts the enemy, not smart enough to pass the tests. it was ok for them.

Not for the others though. For other It's a shame. It's a waste.

Unfortunately, he doesn't care about what others think, otherwise he wouldn't have made it this far.

When he gets home, he takes a quick shower and comes out, hungry but tired, so he puts on his pants and lies down on his bed. Just as his eyes are getting ready to fall asleep, the doorbell rings.

It used to be joyful, but now it's just annoying.

He grumbled, open the door.

Tight suits were never his thing, they made him look too big. Too scary for others. But not on this guy.

"Mr. Riley, right?"

He raised an eyebrow, "That's me."

"Well, congratulations! According to the research our team has done, after a long review of the files, we were able to find the best match for you!"

With a cheerful face and a smile from ear to ear, he looked at him and held out the file towards him.

But Simon's reaction was unlike anyone else. There was no joy on his face, no indifference to the news. It was anger. and it wasn't the anger that some people showed because of being caught up in this system, it wasn't the anger that came from stubbornness.

It was pure rage. It felt like he was about to tear out his throat.

He just wanted to deliver the news and at least get a smile in return. He would have been much happier if he had seen tears of joy. Usually he would have stopped so that the others could tell him how happy they were and how much they had been waiting for this moment.

But not now. He just wanted to run for his life.

Maybe he's not having a good day? Maybe he woke him up? Maybe he's a man who goes to bed very early and it's late at night?

"Um, I know it's a little late..."

"A little late?" His fist lost control. Simon could break everyone's jaws as much as he wanted at work, but not now, Not here, not his. he just brought the man closer to his face, "A little late?"

His voice trembled with anger. If no one saw this man, they would think he was scared from the way he sounded. "Do you know how fucking long you've kept me waiting for this?"

His face sank, whether from pain or confusion, it didn't matter. He released his jaw and stared at him with his sharp gaze. After a few seconds, he glanced at the files and the man unconsciously handed them to him. "Thank you." There was no sense of gratitude in his voice.

Without waiting for an answer, he turned and closed the door. He threw the files on the counter as he walked to his room. He couldn't believe it, and most of all, he didn't have the courage to face this. The last time he had followed up, five years ago, they had told him it was too late, that after all these years the files would be reorganized and the old ones would be moved, he wondered, did they throw away the old information? When he asked, they looked at him like he was stupid. "I don't know if they'll get rid of it completely, but it's no longer used."

Even after that, he waited, but he lost hope. He knew it would never come. He convinced himself it would never come.

Simon Riley couldn't sleep that night, and he couldn't sleep the nights after that. Even looking through the files didn't help him sleep. When he finally got to them, after much struggling, he came across a photo of the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. He let out a breath he had been holding and stared at the image. After a few minutes, he looked down at her information. Name... her last name... age... age?

OH, she was so young. Much younger than him. Much, much younger for him.

A beautiful young woman, with a bright future and a great position, and here's an old dog like him. he's not an old dog, he's old for her, very old. he's just a dog, you know, a dog that can tear everything to pieces. In the battlefield, not in normal life. In the battlefield, he's a good leader. he is a good dog.

he can be a good dog for her.

he pushes away anyone who comes near her, protects her when she's scared, in return he gets lots of kisses and hugs, lots of attention and sweet words, he wags his tail, shows his belly to her to rub it. damn it, she can rub anything she wants, touch anything she wants .Anywhere he hasn't let anyone even see.

Anything she wants.

Yeah, he's panting like a dog when he sees her picture, it's clear that he'll let her do whatever she wants with him.

The more he looks at her beautiful face, the more his guilt about her being younger than him fades.

Just because they have more than a ten-year age gap doesn't mean he can't be a good man for her.

He wants to be a good man for her. He promises to take a bath with her after a hard day, massage her whole body to relieve her Tension, and when When he dried her, he'll gently place her on the edge of the bed and massage her beautiful legs. If she lets him, he'll kiss them.

from top to bottom, from bottom to top. He will LICK her clean.

She can crush his face, under her feet... or between her thighs. She'll press them so hard that he feels like his skull is breaking, she'll sit on his face so long that he can't breathe, so long that his chest hurts.

She's not going to cry because of some people are asshole's at work, he's giving her something to cry about. From joy, happiness, and a good feeling.

He wants to wake up with her in the morning, the first thing he sees is her beautiful face. He wants to wake up a few hours earlier so he can stare at her in her sleep.

He wants to wake her up with his kisses.

He wants to wake up with her kisses.

He wants to kiss her everywhere, he wants to do a lot of things for her and she kisses him in return, he wants to do nothing and she kisses him, he wants to kiss her for no reason, kiss her because he loves her.

he wants to cook for her. His cooking is terrible but he tries his best, he makes her heart-shaped cupcakes, even if she doesn't like it because of the taste, she still smiles at him and says sweet things . She can Teach him how to cook, so she doesn't have to do that anymore. Just sit there and look pretty for him. What if she can't cook? It's okay, we'll learn together. What if she hates cooking? I said it's okay, just sit and watch how your husband cooks for you.

Husband, please call him husband, it sounds so sweet when it comes out of her mouth. He wants to be called husband everywhere. Especially when she goes out. Everyone should know that a beautiful angel like her has a wild dog like him. You shouldn't go near her, he's only friendly with his owner. He even gives her a collar, you can take him wherever you want.

And instead, he wants to call you his wife. Everyone needs to know that he belongs to someone. Someone is waiting for this scary beast at home, not just anyone, an angel, a real angel.

He wants to say that my wife won't let me, my wife doesn't like it, my wife said no, my wife is waiting for me at home, my wife bought it for me, my wife chose iy, my wife loves it very much, my wife must agree. Everyone knows him by your name. You own him.

At the end of the day,That man is hers. At the end of the night That woman is his. He wants to go to sleep with her, wrap his arms around her and bury her head in his chest. Maybe she let him sleep between her beautiful tits. Does that mean she'll let him kiss them? Oh, he's hopeful, so hopeful.

He lowers his kisses, kisses her belly and goes lower and lower. FUCK, does she wear nice panties for him? The ones with the bras? If he didn't, it wouldn't be a problem, everything on her body is beautiful. Does she let him take them off? He asks permission for everything, I told you, he was a good dog. Did I say he licks her? Oh, he licks her, like it's the last ice cream on earth on the hottest day of the year. He moans, he knows she likes it, her pussy gets wetter when she hears his pleasure, her grip on his hair tightens...

When she comes, he rests his head on her thighs, looks at her as her breathing becomes stable, waits for her to look at him, pats his head and tells him well done. Damn it, she won't regret it, he promises.

He always asks her how she wants it this time. "Whatever you like, angel." Is she tired of the same place? Does she need a little variety? Baby, he, bends her over every surface.

He'll go on for several rounds, but he'll get tired, old dog, remember? If she still feel like it, how about she put her beautiful thighs on him and ride him? Oh, I'm sure he'll enjoy the jiggling of her tits.

tired? It's okay, Princess, he presses his feet into the mattress and do all the work.

After they're both satisfied. If she feels like it, theu can go Take a bath together, right? If she's really tired, she can sleep and he'll clean her up without disturbing her sleep, and then join her in bed.

He is very happy, he waited so long to see her and put the ring on her finger. He will have a big wedding party for her, with lots of guests. But he has to wait, he doesn't know what she likes yet, he shouldn't rush.

There is time, there is a lot of time. It took a long time, but it was worth it.

His little angel will soon be by his side.

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

I genuinely think This Simon Riley taking his angel like an animal for the first time.🤭

Simon, who is completely defenseless against his wife, I love him.

As I said, English is not my first language. And in my language the pronouns (he, she, it and... all of them ) are the same, so forgive me if I made a mistake.🫠

I know bad writing takes away the joy of reading, but please forgive me.🥲🙏🏼

If anyone writes something with this idea, please tag me! I would love to read this idea written by someone whose English is better than me!😔

[myechoecho]

Watch the first two episodes of When the Phone Rings and where has something like this been ALL year in kdramaland???

There is something delicious about how Sa Eon and Hee Joo are both in communication yet have zero communication with one another. I love that she told him off at the party in sign language knowing he would not understand. The fact that she's been quietly defying him this entire time and he's only just realizing it now.

Did I suspect that Hee Joo was not actually mute? Absolutely. It would have been more surprising if she was mute. However, I was floored when it was revealed that Hee Joo had the phone and was using it to taunt Sa Eon in a moment of sheer rage and hurt. The utter betrayal she feels because he told the kidnapper to go ahead an kill her then he has the nerve to say at the party she is his weakness what just too much for her. I fully support this deranged and brilliant move.

Now we get this bizarre flirtation between the two, with them weirdly learning more about the other all through the voice modulated cell phone that Hee Joo swiped. . Hee Joo taunting him with all he doesn't know about her. Sa Eon learning he does not know about Hee Joo and then becoming determined to learn about her. Though that, Hee Joo learning that he actually does care and probably always did. This is what is going to push them together.

Though for someone that says they are in absolute control of everything, it's slightly odd that Sa Eon would not learn sign language. Like what if she was telling the ambassador that she is being held hostage and needs help? I guess she's been isolated and hidden enough to not matter. Even the way he "confirmed" how she was home in order for him to say to the kidnapper to kill her was a bit lazy.

At the same time, there was clearly some nagging doubt that Sa Eon had. He was very much relieved that she was safe. He was also absolutely furious to learn that the kidnapping was real as seen by his bloody knuckles. Not sure why he thought he knew her when they did not speak through their 3 year marriage, but now it's driving him nuts to know that there are pieces of her he simply does not understand. He is going to rectify that.

I am very curious as to how their marriage came to be. The reveal at the end that it was Sa Eon to suggest the bride swap seemingly to save Hee Joo from marriage to a terrible person. Even though he is cold and indifferent to her and literally called her a hostage so it's still not a great situation for Hee Joo to be in. I have a strong suspicion that person texting Sa Eon was Hee Joo, and NOT her sister. The language used in the text is identical to the language Hee Joo used in the present to threaten Sa Eon.

If I am right about this, that opens up so many questions. Why did Hee Joo want to stop the marriage? Where is her sister? Did her sister know? What secrets of Sa Eon's family did Hee Joo know? Why did Sa Eon suggest the bride swap after leaning Hee Joo was to be married? Did he always care for her? Why did Hee Joo agree to this marriage, since the person on the other end of the text was obviously thrown by the suggestion? We know that Hee Joo's mom/step mom uses her father to manipulate her so that probably plays a role but is there more to it?

Clearly the kidnapper is also going to make a reappearance since he's not going to let all his carefully laid plans go to waste. The preview for the next episode has me excited. And Hee Joo and Sa Eon have bucket loads of chemistry.

I will end with my now obligatory rant on how this show should be 16 episodes. At least it's 12 episodes since those shows tend to work a bit better than the ones that are 10 eps or less. But I am still bitter about the episode count.

[killerelysia]

Pardonnez-moi, Monsieur!- Solivan brugmansia x Yan!G.N Reader! (Part 3!)

The kid at the back is a 18+ visual novel Minors don't interact!

Words: 10000

Genre: Yandere-(Self aware yandere won the poll)

(Reader is G.N)

Summary: You’ve become consumed by your obsession with Solivan Brugmansia. What started as innocent curiosity quickly spiraled into a fixation. He started it and you began to stalk him, learning every detail about his life. You felt a sick sense of satisfaction in making Sol’s world safer while growing increasingly delusional about your connection with him. Your love for him deepens as you fantasize about the future, convinced that you are the one who truly understands him—better than anyone else. Despite the line between reality and obsession blurring, you remain certain: Sol is yours, even if he doesn’t know it yet.. You're his and he's yours...

Trigger Warning: This content contains themes of obsessive behavior, stalking, manipulation, mental instability, and delusional thinking, Drugging, Yandere?, Hopeless in love for attention Please read with caution.

Obsessive behavior: The reader becomes dangerously fixated on someone, bordering on stalking and delusion.

Manipulation: The reader engages in schemes to control or harm others, often through deception.

Mental illness: Delusional thinking, possible dissociation from reality, and unhealthy fixation on someone.

Violence: There are references to bullying, physical harm, and emotional manipulation.

Emotional abuse: Both in terms of how the protagonist manipulates others and how they might internalize toxic behaviors.

Stalking: The reader watches and follows the person they are obsessed with.

EXTRA: He's a character from a game named The kid at the back!! Note, The relationship presented here between sol and reader is extremely toxic!! In no way, Just because I'm writing doesn't mean I support this kind of toxicity. Note, It's okay to like sol if you know the flaws and don't be a blind eye on them! Again, I don't support his actions etc! If you hate sol ignore this.

Somehow you managed to talk with Sol, Thank Hyugo- THO, He tried to kill you.

Of course, you're gonna complain.

You managed to strike up a normal conversation with Sol, and now he’s explaining the so-called assignment Mr. Professass (Professor) gave.

“Let’s use your face as an example,” he says with a sly grin.

“There, you’re making a cute expression right now—that can be considered expressionism.”

You blinked at his compliment, momentarily stunned. Sol seemed to know a lot about art, effortlessly weaving the concept into the conversation.

“Oh! Expressions! That’s easy! I used to draw a lot of yo—” You stopped mid-sentence, coughing to cover your sudden slip. Sol raised an eyebrow at you, his expression a mix of curiosity and mild amusement. How could he act so normal, like nothing ever fazed him?

“Was your friend good at art?” You asked, smoothly steering the conversation.

“Friend? Oh… you mean Hyugo. He ditched me at the last minute for some family business. He never talks about them, and I don’t pry.”

You nodded, a flicker of endearment softening his sharp features despite the faint annoyance in his tone. “He seems loud.”

“He did say sorry for dragging me into his mess—making me take his place and all.” You waved it off with a small smile. “But honestly, he’s a good guy. The best wingman, really.”

For a brief moment, you observed Sol closely. He rambled on about Hyugo, shaking his head as if exasperated, but there was a lingering warmth in his voice that betrayed his true feelings.

“Our first meeting wasn’t exactly ideal,” you said suddenly, cutting into the moment.

Sol paused mid-thought and tilted his head. “Oh? That’s…” His cheeks reddened slightly.

“I didn’t mean that chair situation,” you teased, leaning back. “I’m talking about your blue Jolly Rancher of a friend. That little menace tried to kill me with a pocket knife.”

The confession spilled out so quickly you almost laughed, but the expression on Sol’s face turned from confusion to shock��and then worry.

“Wait, seriously?” he asked, leaning closer. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, trying to downplay it. “It’s fine, really. I’m sure he won’t do it again.”

But Sol wasn’t convinced. His expression darkened slightly, an uncharacteristic seriousness in his voice. “I’ll talk to him. Thank you for telling me, Y/N. I’ll make sure he doesn’t pull anything like that again.”

“There’s no need for that!” you insisted, waving your hands in reassurance. “I’m sure it’s all water under the bridge now.”

Even so, Sol didn’t look entirely convinced. His determination to address the issue was kind of… cute. Watching him brood over it made your heart skip, a warmth pooling in your chest.

You pulled out your sketchpad on a whim and began doodling Sol’s expressions—the way his brows furrowed when he was deep in thought, the subtle pout tugging at his lips.

“Would you believe me if I told you Hyugo’s one of the top students in the entire class but is always missing in action?” Sol asked suddenly, breaking your focus.

“Probably busy with… uh… family stuff?” you guessed, barely glancing up as your pencil danced across the page.

“Yeah, something like that,” he muttered before noticing your scribbling. His gaze shifted to your sketchpad, and he leaned in curiously.

“Wait, were you drawing me this entire time?” Sol asked, his voice laced with both surprise and suspicion.

“Me? No, of course not!” you lied, trying to shield the sketchpad from view.

“Liar,” he said with a pout that nearly made your heart combust.

“Aww, come on, it’s not a big deal, Sullivan!”

“As in that monster from…?”

“Sorry, Sol.” You grinned sheepishly, attempting to cheer him up, but his exaggerated pout only grew more dramatic.

And for the millionth time that day, your heart had died from his unintentional charm.

You found yourself lost in the moment, staring at your sketchpad and then at Sol. A small, almost creepy smile crept onto your lips as you tilted the page toward him.

“You’re really cute,” you said softly, almost absentmindedly.

Sol blinked, his mouth opening slightly in shock.

You leaned closer, pointing to one of the sketches. “Like, look at this one. That little furrow in your brow when you’re annoyed? Adorable. And here!” You flipped to another. “This one, where you’re mid-smirk? It’s like you’re plotting something, but it’s so soft at the same time. And this one…”

You kept going, your voice trailing into near-obsessive detail about every single expression you’d captured. The way his lips curved when he was amused. The slight tilt of his head when he was curious. The barely-there pout when he was annoyed. Each word only made the lovesickness in your voice more obvious.

You caught yourself—barely—and let out a sheepish laugh, trying to backpedal. “I mean… Sol, you’re just… really cute, okay?” You smiled, hoping to play it cool, but the way your heart pounded in your chest wasn’t helping.

Sol stared at you, his face quickly turning an intense shade of red. He looked like he wanted to say something, but the words just… weren’t coming.

Instead, he sat there, completely speechless. His ears burned red as he glanced between you and the sketchpad, frozen in place.

You leaned back, smirking as you tried to hide how flustered you were. “What, no snarky comeback? Cat got your tongue?”

Sol looked away quickly, burying his face in his hands with a muffled groan.

Your heart sank as you realized you might have overdone it. Sol was still red, his hands covering his face, and for a moment, he seemed smaller than his usual confident self.

“Ah, I—” you stammered, your voice softer now. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to come off, uh, intense or anything.” You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly, looking down at your sketchpad like it was a guilty accomplice. “I just… got carried away. You’re really cool, Sol, and I—”

You cut yourself off, biting your lip. You didn’t want to scare him off. Sol wasn’t like this when he was around other people. It was rare to catch him vulnerable like this—unguarded. And now you were worried you might’ve ruined it by being too much.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” you added quickly, your voice almost a whisper.

Sol finally lowered his hands, his expression unreadable for a second. His gaze flickered to you, then to the sketchpad, and back again. He blinked a few times, his blush still lingering.

“You… didn’t scare me,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “I just… wasn’t expecting that.”

You froze, not entirely sure how to respond.

He glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck this time, mirroring your earlier nervousness. “I mean, it’s not every day someone… notices things like that about me.”

Your heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t mad. He wasn’t pulling away.

“Still,” you said with a soft chuckle, trying to lighten the mood, “I’ll tone it down. Promise. You’re just… interesting to draw, that’s all.” You paused before adding, “And, uh, to talk to. If that wasn’t obvious.”

For a moment, the awkward tension melted away. Sol leaned back slightly, still blushing but less defensive now. “Just… don’t let Hyugo see those sketches, okay? I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Deal,” you said with a laugh, relieved that the moment hadn’t ruined anything. If anything, it felt like you’d taken a step closer to understanding him—the real Sol, beneath all the bravado.

Sol leaned back in his chair, his usual cool demeanor cracking just a bit. "Alright, who's going first? You sketching me, or am I sketching you?"

You grinned, already pulling out your sketchbook and a charcoal pencil. "Guess that answers your question."

He raised a brow. “Want me to pose or something?”

“Nah, just sit however you want. It’s fine.” You waved him off casually, but your focus sharpened as you scanned his face, taking in every detail.

The way his jet-black hair fell in a soft cascade over his shoulders, streaked with green that caught the light just right—it was mesmerizing. His bangs framed his face, that one streak cutting down the middle and drawing attention to his eyes. And those eyes, with their burning orange inner ring fading to crimson at the edges, like embers glowing in a dying fire, they were impossible to look away from. His jawline was sharp but not harsh, balanced by the soft curve of his lips, which always seemed to rest in a mix of a pout and a smirk.

He was... handsome. And you couldn’t help but stare.

Too long, apparently.

Sol turned his head suddenly, catching you red-handed. His expression twisted into something flustered, and he turned away,

"Eyes on me!"

Sol blinked, jolted out of his daze. “Oh—sorry. I’m, uh, not used to staring at someone for that long.”

You tried to laugh it off, but your voice came out awkward. "“You know, just your boring face and all.” I got it! My face is boring!"

Sol turned back toward you, his cheeks tinged pink as he gave you a shy glance. “Your face isn’t boring,” he muttered, almost too softly for you to hear. “It’s… more… beautiful.”

Your heart slammed against your chest. Heat flooded your cheeks, and for a moment, you felt like you might combust on the spot. You stared at him, utterly frozen, the charcoal pencil trembling slightly in your hand.

Oh my god, I’m dying. This is it. I’m dying. Again. For the millionth time.

You tried to recover, puffing out your cheeks in mock frustration to defuse the tension. “Nope. Not doing this. You’re not allowed to be cute while I’m trying to work.”

Sol smiled—really smiled—and it was devastating. Soft, genuine, and just shy enough to make your heart stutter.

And then, as if to finish you off completely, you almost missed the way his eyes lingered on you. They were hazy, love-drunk, filled with something dangerously soft and unspoken.

Oh, you sick bastard, Sol, you thought, trying not to let your face give away the chaos in your head. I love you for that.

You started sketching, letting the charcoal glide over the paper with care that bordered on reverence. Each stroke of the pencil became a quiet obsession, capturing the slight arch of his brow, the curve of his jaw, the sharp bridge of his nose that added so much character to his face.

Your fingers moved instinctively, but your mind was a storm.

This won’t be enough.

You paused, glancing up at him again. His face was relaxed, but there was a faint curiosity in his eyes as he tried to stay still for you. That softness in his expression—it was the kind that sent a thrill down your spine. It wasn’t just a face you wanted to draw; it was him.

Your chest tightened. No amount of sketches could ever capture him fully. His little mannerisms, the way his lips twitched slightly when he was lost in thought, how his lashes cast shadows across his cheekbones when he glanced away—how could charcoal and paper ever do justice to that?

No drawing will ever be enough until I get you. All of you.

You swallowed hard, your pencil slowing for a moment as you scanned his face again, letting your gaze linger just a second too long. His expression shifted slightly—was that a flicker of unease? Or maybe curiosity?

You smiled softly, trying to mask the possessive edge in your thoughts. “Sorry. Just trying to get it perfect.”

Sol tilted his head, his lips twitching into a small smirk. “Take your time. Not like I’m going anywhere.”

Oh, you’re not. Not now, not ever.

The thought burned in your chest as you leaned closer, focusing on the details. The dip of his collarbone where it peeked from his shirt, the way his hair caught the faint light from the window, framing his face like a portrait already waiting to be hung. Your pencil moved with an almost feverish precision, each stroke pulling you deeper into your fixation.

And yet, it still wasn’t enough.

You let out a shaky breath, glancing up at him one more time. He caught your gaze this time, and his eyes softened. “How’s it going?”

“Fine,” you murmured, your voice quieter than you meant it to be.

But in your mind, a different answer screamed: It’s not enough. I need more.

You quickly looked back at your sketchpad, your cheeks burning, hoping the intensity of your thoughts wasn’t plastered all over your face.

The bell rang, slicing through the quiet moment between you and Sol. You startled slightly, realizing how much time had passed, and quickly closed your sketchbook.

"Alright, we’re done for now," you said, tucking the pencil into your bag.

Sol leaned forward, his curiosity practically radiating off him. “Wait—can I at least peek?”

You shook your head firmly. “Nope.”

“Boo,” he said, pouting in a way that almost felt illegal. The exaggerated downturn of his lips, the wide-eyed pleading look—it was devastating.

You sighed heavily, knowing you were no match for that expression. “Fine. Just a peek. But no judging, alright?”

He grinned triumphantly as you opened the sketchbook, angling it toward him. His gaze settled on the page, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. He just stared.

“Wow,” he finally breathed, his voice low and almost awed. “You… you drew this? Like, just now?”

You tried to play it off, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal, but your heart raced. “Yeah, it’s just a rough piece. Nothing special.”

His eyes didn’t leave the sketch. “Nothing special? Are you kidding me? It’s—” He paused, his brow furrowing slightly. “It’s perfect. You captured… everything.”

Your chest tightened at his words, but you fought to keep your expression neutral. Instead, you just smiled weakly and looked away, your thoughts a whirlwind. Of course, I captured everything. I’ve drawn you so many times, Sol. In my mind, in my journals. You’re practically etched into my soul.

“It’s not that great,” you muttered, trying to dismiss his praise.

He blinked at you, his expression shifting from awe to disbelief. “No. It’s good. Actually, it’s better than good.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he shook his head, cutting you off. “It’s better than anything I’ve ever drawn.”

Your eyes widened. “Get the fuck out.”

“No, I’m serious!” he said, looking at you earnestly. “It’s amazing, and—wait, you think I’m talented?”

You froze for a split second, and then words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them. “I mean, yeah. Your portrait which I st—uh, think!—is really good.”

You coughed mid-sentence, your throat suddenly dry as panic set in. Sol’s eyes widened, and he immediately jumped up, grabbing a bottle of water from his bag. “Hey, you okay? Here, drink this!”

You took the water, your hands brushing briefly as he handed it to you. His concern was palpable, his orange-red eyes scanning your face. You quickly gulped some water and waved a hand to reassure him. “I’m fine! Just… choked on my words. Literally.”

He frowned, clearly not convinced, but let it go.

You cleared your throat and tried to steer the conversation back. “Anyway, we’ve still got two more works to finish for this project. Let’s… exchange numbers so we can plan things out?”

Sol nodded, pulling out his phone. “Yeah, good idea.”

The exchange was quick, and within moments, your phone buzzed with a message.

Sup.

You stared at it, blinking, before a laugh bubbled out of you. “You type so differently than you talk.”

Sol raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

"Nothing."

You glanced at Sol, who was now scrolling lazily on his phone, and a thought hit you like a freight train. He was so intriguing, so magnetic, but also… so misunderstood.

You couldn’t stop yourself from blurting out, “Y’know, I bet a lot of people mistake you for someone you’re not.”

He looked up, tilting his head curiously. “What do you mean?”

You hesitated, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze. “I mean… you come off as this super confident, kind of aloof guy, but you’re… more than that. People probably don’t take the time to really get you. To understand you.”

His brows furrowed slightly, and you felt your chest tighten. You hadn’t even planned this conversation, but now you were tumbling forward without brakes.

“And I… I want to be that person,” you said, your voice wavering. “I want to understand you, Sol. I want to know the real you. I want us to…” You paused, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. “…to be friends.”

The word friends fell from your lips like a rock, heavy and jagged. It sounded so wrong, so painfully inadequate for how you felt. You wanted to claw it out of the air and burn it before it could reach him. But what else could you say? You couldn’t just ask him to marry you on the first day you’d truly spoken.

Sol blinked, his expression softening. For a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something deeper in his eyes, but then he smiled.

“So,” he said, leaning forward slightly, “let’s make today the start of something. The start of a wonderful friendship. What do you think, Y/N L/N?”

Your heart shattered into a million pieces.

Friendship?! FRIENDSHIP?! Your inner voice screamed, but outwardly, you managed a bright, almost too-cheerful nod. “Yeah! Of course!”

The smile on your face didn’t match the agony in your chest. You were happy to be close to him—really—but it wasn’t enough. Not when you wanted so much more.

Sol leaned back, his casual demeanor unchanged, you felt your heart breaking all over again. And yet, as painful as it was, you told yourself it was a start.

I’ll take this. For now.

But deep down, you couldn’t ignore the ache that wouldn’t go away. The way the word “friendship” echoed in your mind like a cruel joke. You wanted more, and the thought of settling for less was unbearable. Still, you smiled at him, masking the pain, determined to be patient.

Even if it killed you.

As you stood up, preparing to leave, a strange weight settled in your chest. Sol’s words echoed in your mind, the promise to see each other tomorrow. It was enough to make your heart ache, to feel something stir inside you that you weren’t sure how to handle. The idea of friendship—just friendship—with him made everything seem so much harder.

You gave him a smile, even though it felt like your insides were twisting in pain. “Will we see each other tomorrow? And… if it’s possible, could we hang out?” Your eyes were a little too soft, a little too vulnerable, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eye for fear of what would spill out.

His expression shifted, that familiar lack of emotion, the calm mask he wore all the time. It was hard to read, hard to decipher, but you didn’t need to. You already knew the answer. His expression was now full of...surprise, he answered faster than you expected!

“Ah! Yes, of course! See you tomorrow.” He gave a small nod, his voice reassuring but distant. You were sure he didn’t feel the same urgency, the same burning desire that you did.

You patted his shoulder, your fingers lingering for just a second longer than necessary. The sensation of his warmth sent a shockwave through you, and you fought to keep your cool. “See you tomorrow, Sol.”

You turned and left.

Your footsteps echoed in the hallway as you walked away, a slight frown pulling at your lips. The walls around you were decorated in some half-hearted Halloween theme—streamers, fake cobwebs, jack-o’-lanterns—but it all felt like a blur. You didn’t care about the decorations or the meaningless chatter around you. Everything felt muted, distant.

Then, as you pulled your phone from your pocket, a text from Crowe appeared, and your stomach twisted.

Crowe: "Waiting for you outside the gate."

It hit you like a punch to the gut. Crowe. Your friend. The one you’d always relied on, the one you cared about deeply. But now… you were torn. Torn between Crowe and Sol, between what had always been familiar and what was now irresistible, unsettling. You couldn’t lie to yourself: having a friendship with Sol was so distracting. Every time you saw him, you couldn’t focus, couldn’t think. It was overwhelming. And it was dangerous.

You cared for Crowe, too, didn’t you? Of course you did. He had always been there for you, your anchor in a sea of chaos. But… when you thought of Sol, when you remembered his gaze, the way he spoke to you, how he looked at you—how he made you feel—you couldn’t deny it anymore.

You stopped in the hallway. Your breath caught in your throat. The truth had become too real.

I’m choosing Sol over Crowe.

The thought was like a blade, cutting deep into your chest. It wasn’t that you didn’t care about Crowe. You did. You always had. But this… what you felt for Sol—this strange, insatiable need to be closer to him, to know him, to feel something more than friendship—was undeniable. Crowe had always been there, but Sol… he was different.

But now, you had a problem. A big problem.

You loved Crowe. Or, at least, you thought you did. And you couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, of him hating you, of him finding out about the way your heart raced when Sol was near. It was so unfair to Crowe, but you had to do it. You had to.

It was painful, but there was no other choice.

You took a deep breath, shaking your head as you walked toward the exit, your heart heavy with the weight of what you had to do. You couldn’t think of Sol anymore. You couldn’t let yourself be distracted.

You had to push Crowe away.

And the only way to do that was to make him hate you.

As the thought settled in your mind, you could feel your stomach churn. It hurt. It really hurt. But this was the only way to make sure you wouldn’t be distracted. To make sure you could stop yourself from falling any deeper.

You reached the gate, and Crowe was standing there, leaning casually against the wall. He looked up as he saw you approach, a smile lighting up his face. It made your chest tighten.

You hated what you were about to do. But you had no choice.

No one ever said love was easy.

It wasn't just for that.

He's watching, He's always is.

Crowe stood there, radiating his usual easygoing confidence. His bag was neatly placed on the ground, his posture upright and casual, arms held behind his back as he tapped his foot in quiet anticipation.

You felt like you were walking in a dream—or maybe a nightmare. Each step toward him was like dragging yourself through thick, suffocating fog. You were broken. Pieces of your heart scattered, and you didn’t even know how to piece them back together. You didn’t know what you were doing, what you even wanted anymore.

You finally reached him, forcing your voice to sound steady. “Crowe… what’s the work?”

Crowe blinked, clearly surprised. “Work?” His eyebrows furrowed, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “No, Y/N… I just wanted to hang out.”

The words stung like a slap, and a pang of guilt twisted in your chest. Just wanted to hang out.

But the words should’ve been comforting, right? Crowe was always like this—sweet, casual, like he cared. He never made things complicated, never put pressure on you, just wanting to spend time with you. And yet… there was that feeling gnawing at you. A feeling you couldn’t shake, no matter how hard you tried.

“I was thinking of taking you somewhere,” he continued, his voice lighter now. “There’s a neat park nearby. It’s a bit quieter. I can lead you there if you want.” His face lit up with excitement, and for a split second, you thought you saw something more.

Why was he so… excited?

Do you think…? No, it can’t be right.

You looked down at your feet, the weight of the situation sinking in. Regret gnawed at you, but you still smiled, trying to push the discomfort away. “Yeah… that sounds nice.”

Crowe grinned, his eyes bright with that familiar warmth. “Great! Let’s go then.”

Take his hand

TAKE HIS ARM

HAHAHHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA

You bit your lip, trying to find an excuse, any excuse to create distance. You didn’t want to be close to him right now—not when your heart was torn between him and someone else. Not when you couldn’t stop thinking about Sol, and the pain of choosing between them was suffocating.

And then, a solution hit you.

“I’ll carry your bag,” you said quickly, as if the words could erase the guilt already creeping in. You didn’t wait for his protest, picking up the bag and holding it in your hands, keeping it between you and Crowe like a barrier.

He frowned, about to say something. “No, Y/N, you really don’t have to—”

“I insist,” you cut him off, your voice firmer than you felt. “It’s fine. Really.”

You couldn’t let yourself touch him, not right now. Not when your thoughts were so clouded with confusion and desire. You couldn’t let the connection between you two grow any deeper. You had to keep distance, even if it was just a simple gesture like this.

Crowe sighed but didn’t argue, following you with that same concerned look in his eyes.

This is the only way to make sure you won’t get distracted.

You tried not to think too much about how wrong it felt to avoid him like this, but every time you looked at Crowe, your heart sank a little more. He was your friend, your best friend, but the truth was, your feelings were too complicated, too mixed up now.

you walked side by side, the silence between you two felt heavy, suffocating. You tried to focus on the road ahead, telling yourself that this was the right thing to do.

Every step felt like you were walking further away from the person you used to be, a person who hadn’t been so consumed by obsession, by him.

How had it gotten this dark?

You couldn’t ignore the ache in your chest, the constant pull toward Sol. You kept thinking about him—his face, the way his eyes met yours with that unreadable expression, the way your heart had thundered when he leaned in closer, the way he seemed perfect. You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him, not even for a second, and now—now everything else seemed to fade into the background.

You could almost picture it clearly: Sol, leaning down toward you, his lips just inches away, his eyes so intense as if he could feel what you were feeling. You felt your breath quicken, your heartbeat escalating, imagining the moment you would kiss him, desperate for his touch, for something real—something more.

But then, just as you were about to lose yourself in the fantasy, something yanked you back to reality.

Crowe’s hands were suddenly on your arms, pulling you back from the abyss of your thoughts. His grip was firm but gentle, as if afraid you might break under the weight of your own mind.

“Y/N…” he said, voice low, laced with concern. His eyes searched yours, his gaze soft but full of worry. “You’re… you’re making a really concerning expression right now.”

You blinked, feeling a strange, almost drooling sensation, like you were half there and half lost in some other world. You realized you’d been staring into nothing, your mind completely consumed by the image of Sol.

You couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t believe what was happening to you.

“Y/N, you…” Crowe hesitated, unsure how to put it into words. “You look… almost…” He trailed off, his voice a little shaky. “Disgusting?”

His words hit you like a bucket of ice water. Disgusting?

You felt a pit form in your stomach. What was wrong with you?

But Crowe didn’t leave it at that. He could see the confusion in your eyes, the hurt behind your forced smile, and he gently squeezed your arms. “No, Y/N. Nothing you do is disgusting, okay? Nothing.”

His words were meant to reassure you, but they only added to the chaos in your mind. It was almost like you wanted to believe him, but the truth was too overwhelming. You were becoming obsessed with Sol.

No shit sherlock!

You looked at Crowe, barely able to meet his gaze.

You kept walking, but something inside you pulled back. You felt like you were drifting away, each step carrying you further from reality. You heard Crowe's footsteps pause behind you, and when you turned around, his worried expression stopped you in your tracks. His brow furrowed, his mouth set in a firm line as he studied you.

Without warning, he grabbed your hand, his grip gentle yet insistent.

“I wanted to talk about you maybe trying out with our new friends,” Crowe began, his voice a little too calm, too measured. But there was something in his eyes—a flicker of concern—that made your stomach twist.

But he didn’t stop there. “But I won’t ignore the fact that you’ve been different for the past couple of months… something’s wrong.”

You froze, your heart racing. The evening sky had turned dark, the sun dipping below the horizon. Shadows stretched across the empty street as the quiet evening began to feel suffocating. You didn’t want to hear this. You didn’t want him to see through you.

“Ichabod,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, as you tried to brush him off. "You’re wasting my time. I told you, I wanted to hang out. I came out for you." Your words sounded cold, distant, like you were trying to push him away. You weren’t sure anymore if you were trying to hide yourself from Crowe or from your own feelings.

Crowe’s eyes hardened, his jaw clenched as anger began to brew beneath the surface. “Tell me what’s really going on.” His voice was tight, almost accusing. “You’ve been acting off for weeks now. Something’s wrong, and you won’t even talk to me about it.”

His words dug deep, and you felt that same uncomfortable pressure in your chest.

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but nothing came out. The thoughts in your head were too chaotic, too tangled.

“You’re just tired, right?” Crowe asked, his tone softening, but there was still an edge to it. “That’s why you’re being so cold, so distant?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t know how to. You were exhausted—mentally, emotionally—but that wasn’t the only reason you were like this. The real truth was something you couldn’t even admit to yourself, let alone him. You couldn’t talk about it. You couldn’t say it aloud.

Without waiting for your response, Crowe let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, we’re heading to the same place, but… this isn’t just to hang out. I’m not going to ignore the fact that you’re acting strange.”

Your heart sank. He had already figured it out.

Crowe’s words were sharper now, almost impatient, as if he was done pretending like everything was fine. “We’re going to talk. Not just waste time. We’re going to talk about what’s going on with you.”

Your body tensed. You felt the pressure of the moment building. You didn’t want to face this. You didn’t want to confront what was happening inside you, because the truth was far more complicated than you were ready to admit.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue.

But Crowe wasn’t buying it. His expression was unreadable, but his grip on your hand remained firm, guiding you forward. You could feel him watching you, analyzing every movement, every word, trying to figure out the truth.

You stood there, staring up at the night sky, your thoughts drifting once again. The stars above were beautiful, too beautiful for what you were feeling. It felt like everything around you was so peaceful, so perfect—but inside, you were falling apart. You couldn’t stop thinking about Sol, the image of him haunting your mind as you pictured him in every corner of your thoughts.

You had to get home. You had to go back. You wondered if he had drugged the food yet, the thought making your stomach churn with an odd mixture of excitement and dread. Sol… you thought.

Why was I always thinking about him?

You chuckled softly to yourself, a laugh that didn’t feel like it belonged to you. The sound was hollow, almost insane in its desperation, and you had no control over it. The more you thought about him, the more you couldn’t stop imagining all the what ifs—what if you could be with him? What if you could make him yours?

You closed your eyes for a moment, the image of Sol’s face appearing before you, his expression warm, inviting, even though it was a fantasy.

You opened your eyes, and it was like you were in a trance. There was Crowe, standing beside you, watching you intently, his gaze sharp and focused. You didn’t notice him at first, lost in your own world, but when you did, you were startled by his expression. He was just standing there, his posture stiff as he watched you with a mixture of confusion and something darker.

His eyes narrowed, almost like he was trying to understand what was going on in your head. It was as if he saw something in you that you didn’t want to admit.

You couldn’t even hide it anymore. You were obsessed. You were lost in thoughts of Sol, and now Crowe could probably see it. He was watching you closely, almost like he was analyzing every move, every flicker of your gaze.

Crowe was silent for a moment, closing his eyes as though trying to calm himself down. He didn’t say anything, and neither did you. There was something heavy hanging between you two, something unspoken that made the air feel thick and suffocating.

You felt like you had been caught, but it wasn’t just about your actions anymore—it was about the part of you that was slipping away, the part of you that was losing its grip on reality. The part of you that was getting too close to Sol. Too obsessed.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to explain it. You couldn’t bring yourself to admit that the only thing on your mind right now was him, and you couldn’t lie to Crowe. But you couldn’t stop.

You were spiraling deeper into this madness, and the more you tried to pull yourself out, the further you fell.

Crowe didn’t speak, but his eyes were still on you, studying you with such intensity. The silence between you two was deafening, and it felt like you couldn’t escape from the weight of the moment. You didn’t know how much longer you could keep pretending everything was fine, because inside, everything was breaking apart.

Finally, Crowe sighed, his voice low and heavy. “Y/N…”

But you didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want to hear him lecture you about your behavior, about how wrong you were, how obsessive you had become. Because you already knew. You already felt it. And the worst part was that you didn’t care.

You were too far gone.

Crowe coughed, a forced sound that echoed in the silence between you two, and the moment was ruined. The image of Sol, the one you had been fantasizing about just moments before, began to fade as you were pulled back into the present. You clenched your jaw, an unfamiliar anger bubbling up inside of you.

“What?” you snapped, your voice sharper than intended. The irritation was there, raw and unfiltered. He had broken your daydream—your escape.

Crowe, startled by your sudden outburst, looked away, his eyes betraying a hint of confusion and concern. “Y/N… what happened to you?” he asked, his voice softer now, but still laced with that underlying worry.

You immediately shut down, wanting nothing to do with the question. “Nothing’s wrong,” you muttered, your gaze already shifting back toward the stars, seeking refuge in the familiar expanse of the night sky. You sat down on the grass, trying to drown out the noise in your head.

Crowe didn’t stop. He sat beside you, his presence heavy as he continued to ask questions, trying to piece together the puzzle of what was going on with you. But you didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want to think about it.

You buried yourself in the task of picking at the grass, mindlessly drawing out Sol’s name in the dirt with the tips of your fingers. Sol...

Your eyes softened as you traced the letters, the feeling of love and obsession creeping in once more. You didn’t care if it was unhealthy. You didn’t care that you were losing it. In that moment, Sol was everything.

Then, Crowe’s voice broke through again. “Y/N… I’m talking to you.”

You snapped your head toward him, your patience thinning. “Shut up,” you muttered, the words slipping from your mouth before you could even register them. He had ruined it again. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t understand.

Crowe went silent, and when you looked at him, you saw that his expression had shifted. He looked hurt—surprised, even. But that wasn’t what caught your attention. It was the way he was looking at you, as if he had just realized how different you had become.

Your heart skipped a beat. You knew. You saw it in his eyes, in the way he now regarded you. You were scary.

You suddenly felt that weight pressing down on your chest—the guilt, the realization of what you had just become. Your eyes, the same ones that hadn’t slept properly in days, were dark and haunted. You could feel the darkness inside you swirling, pulling you deeper into this obsession.

You felt the regret hit you like a wave, and without thinking, you..

Crowe’s eyes softened, and there was a painful hesitation in his voice. He looked at you, trying to piece together the person in front of him—the person you used to be. “What happened to you...?” His voice was tinged with sadness, something you had never heard from him before. It was like he was watching a stranger before him, and it made you feel... uncomfortable, uneasy.

You cocked your head slightly, feigning confusion, though deep down you knew exactly what he was getting at. “What do you mean?” you asked, your voice quieter now, as you tried to keep your emotions under wraps.

Crowe ran a hand through his hair, a sigh escaping his lips before he spoke again. “It’s just! Look at you! You’re... nowadays sleep-deprived, always walking away... One of the students even complained to the council that you were... laughing a lot in the restroom. You threatened them to be silent... This isn’t like you...” His voice faltered at the end, as if he were afraid to say too much, afraid of pushing you further.

You shrugged, trying to dismiss it. “Ah, so what?” You could feel the coldness creeping into your tone, but you couldn’t stop it. It wasn’t like you cared anymore.

“I’m not sure who you are anymore...” Crowe's words were heavy, like each one was a weight being pressed onto you. “You used to be a quiet, caring, bookworm artist who liked to listen... and a good child who cared about their father getting their land back. But now...” He trailed off, his voice thick with concern.

You stared at him, your expression hardening. “Ichabod, stop it... Crowe, what’s with you? What are you trying to say?” Your voice cracked slightly with frustration, but you didn’t let it show too much. You weren’t going to let him make you feel guilty, not when everything inside you was already breaking apart.

“You’re not yourself anymore,” he said, his voice quiet now, almost pleading. “Is there a reason...? You’ve become so... cold. Toward me too... You used to...”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but you refused to show any sign of weakness. You didn’t want to hear it. “You only know me for what you think,” you said through clenched teeth. “You don’t know me as a person. You don’t have the right to complain.”

Crowe’s face twisted, the hurt evident in his eyes as he took a step closer, his voice trembling. “Complain?! Y/N! I’m someone who cares about you! I’m worried about you!”

You couldn’t stop the bitter laugh that escaped your lips. “Cared?” you spat, the word leaving a bad taste in your mouth. “Don’t make me laugh, Crowe. Didn’t I just say? Friend... friend... friend...” The word felt like a poison on your tongue. You hated it, but you said it anyway.

He was taken aback, the raw emotion in his face faltering as he blinked at you, unsure how to respond. “Then... What am I to you?” His voice was shaky, desperate for an answer.

You looked at him, almost broken, as the answer came to you, something so twisted and bitter you couldn’t help but say it. “You WERE MY savior,” you said, your voice hollow. “A friend.” You looked away quickly, trying to hide the sinking feeling inside you. What have I become?

Crowe stood there for a moment, processing your words, before he shook his head slightly. “Then I guess... I don’t really know who you are anymore, Y/N. What you are...” His voice cracked. "I’m sorry for ruining your day.”

You didn’t know how to feel anymore. His words had hit you harder than anything, but you couldn’t bring yourself to show it. “Yeah, you don’t,” you whispered. Crowe was about to..leave but he held your arm.

Crowe’s grip on your arm tightened, his voice sharp and laced with panic. “What’s wrong with you?” he demanded, his face flushed with a mix of confusion and frustration. “Why are you acting like this? What happened to you?!”

His desperate eyes were searching yours, but all you could feel was anger and suffocating tension. You had enough of his questions, enough of his concern. You had too much of him in your life, and it was beginning to tear you apart. You couldn’t breathe in the face of it anymore.

"Shut up!" you screamed, the words ripping through the silence. "Shut up, Crowe! Just... shut up!"

You yanked your arm away from him, the fire in your chest growing. This wasn’t you, not the person he thought you were. Not anymore. You had changed, and he needed to accept it.

Crowe’s eyes widened in shock, but you couldn’t care less. He didn’t understand. He wouldn’t. You were done trying to explain yourself to someone who couldn’t see the chaos inside your mind.

Suddenly, you grabbed him by the collar, pulling him closer with force, your body trembling with the anger you could no longer suppress. “YOU’RE THE PROBLEM!” you screamed at him, your voice cracking. "YOU distract me, away from my life. You make everything so damn complicated! I want to focus on something, but you keep getting in my way! You make everything harder!"

Tears welled in your eyes, but you fought them back, gritting your teeth. “I DON’T WANT FRIENDS! LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!”

Your breath came in shallow gasps as you shoved him away, forcing yourself to take a step back. You grabbed your bag, clutching it tightly as if it were the last thing keeping you grounded.

Crowe stood frozen, his face pale, looking as if your words had physically struck him. But his voice was quiet, almost resigned. “Have fun with the group of people you’re trying to fix,” you spat bitterly. “But stay the hell away from me. I’m done.”

You turned sharply, your heart hammering in your chest as you walked away, the cold night air hitting your face, but you barely felt it. Your legs carried you without thought, away from Crowe, away from the situation you had created.

“Have fun with your new friends. I’m telling you this now... if you want to live happily... Stay with them. I’m done for.”

And with that, you walked away, your heart torn in two but your mind resolute. You didn’t look back. You couldn’t afford to.

You made it home, the door slamming shut behind you as you staggered into the dimly lit living room. The emptiness felt like it was swallowing you whole, but it was the kind of emptiness you had grown used to. The kind that didn't scream for attention, just quietly gnawed at your soul.

You collapsed to the floor, pulling your knees to your chest as your body shook. The tears came like a dam breaking open—heavy, hot, and relentless. It wasn’t just from the fight with Crowe, not just because of the raw pain in your chest. No, it was because you had to do it. You had to push him away, had to convince yourself that you hated him. You had to protect him.

It wasn’t like you didn’t care about Crowe; it was the opposite. You cared too much. And that kind of care was dangerous when you had someone like Sol watching you from the shadows, his jealousy like a burning fuse ready to snap at any moment. You had seen it, the way he watched Crowe, the way his eyes hardened whenever his name was mentioned.

Sol could never find out about Crowe. If Sol knew, he would kill him—you were sure of it. And that couldn’t happen. Not while you still had this insane, twisted obsession with Sol. The last thing you wanted was to lose the only person who made you feel something in this chaotic mess of emotions.

and to be peaceful with sol.

You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, taking a shuddering breath as you reached for the small pile of things you had been hiding in your bag. It was a strange collection: a piece of bandage you had stolen from the nurse’s office, a pencil Sol had left on his desk, a scrap of paper with a doodle of his—just things, little things. But to you, they were treasures. They were all you had left of him.

Hugging them to your chest, you buried your face in the soft bandage. His scent lingered faintly on it, something sharp and comforting. The smell of Sol. The smell of everything you wanted. It calmed the storm inside your head, at least for a moment.

Your mind wandered, thoughts growing hazy as the delusions crept in. You imagined Sol with you, imagined him loving you, imagined a life where he saw you as something more than just an object of desire. But that was all it would ever be—delusion. And yet, it felt so real, so comforting in that moment of weakness.

You clung to the bandage tighter, your tears soaking into the fabric. You couldn’t stop it. You wanted to scream, to let it all out, but the sensation of holding onto something—anything—was a distraction. It kept you from falling apart completely.

And in that moment, despite the overwhelming sadness, you felt a twisted sense of gratitude. “Thank God…” you whispered, your voice cracking. You didn’t even know what you were thankful for...

You sat there in the darkness of your room, the weight of the bandage pressing against your chest as you clutched it tighter, your fingers trembling with a twisted sense of ownership. The smell of Sol was still faint on the fabric, but to you, it was everything. It was him, in your hands, in your arms, in your mind.

A sick, deranged smile stretched across your lips, creeping its way into your expression as you hugged the bandages closer. The soft, comforting scent of Sol's presence made your heart race, and every thought felt like a desperate plea to keep him to yourself, to make him yours. It didn’t matter that you knew how wrong it all was; it didn’t matter that you were sinking deeper into this madness. In this moment, you were consumed, body and soul, by the idea of him.

You could almost see him—feel him—right next to you. The way his eyes would soften when he looked at you, how his voice would whisper your name in that quiet, gentle way, if only he knew how much you loved him. The fantasies played in your mind like a twisted film reel, each scene more vivid, more real than the last.

“Sol...” you whispered, barely able to keep the name from slipping off your tongue. “You’re mine, aren’t you?”

Your voice was soft, almost reverent, but there was a madness in your eyes. Your pupils dilated as your smile deepened, the corners of your mouth stretching until it felt like your face couldn’t contain the longing and obsession.

The bandage in your hands was no longer just a piece of cloth. It was a symbol. A symbol of the twisted bond you had with him, the bond you were building, even if he didn’t know it. You felt your chest tighten, your breath hitching in your throat. You imagined what it would be like when he finally realized—when he finally saw you, truly saw you, not just as a fleeting moment in his life, but as the one who loved him the most, the one who would never let him go.

Your mind raced, wild and untamed, thoughts spiraling in a whirlpool of desperation. What would you do if he knew? Would he ever love you back, or would he push you away like everyone else had? No. You wouldn’t let that happen.

You could feel a twinge of possessiveness, something dark and primal clawing at your insides, as you pressed the bandage to your face, inhaling deeply.

I need him. I need him so much…

A bitter laugh bubbled up from deep within your throat, a hollow sound that echoed around the room, dark and twisted. “I’ll make sure no one takes you from me. Not anyone. You’ll be mine, Sol. Forever...”

You closed your eyes, your fingers clutching the bandage as if it were the most precious thing in the world. A tear slipped down your cheek, though it wasn’t from sadness. It was from the overwhelming need, the obsessive desire that consumed every corner of your heart.

You smiled again, slower this time, as you whispered to the empty room, “You’ll see... You’ll see, Sol. We’re meant to be. You have me in your order already.."

The sudden buzz of your phone broke through the fog of obsession, pulling you back to reality with a jolt. Your heart skipped a beat as you saw Crowe’s name flash on the screen. You felt a rush of panic that surged through your chest like ice-water.

Shit.

You quickly unlocked your phone, your fingers trembling as you read his message. "Hey, can I add you to the group chat with the others? Just thought it’d be fun to hang out more!"

You stared at the words, each syllable clawing at you.every interaction with Crowe felt like another chain around your neck, pulling you further away from Sol, from the delusion of him.

Your heart raced, a sick, suffocating feeling creeping up your throat. You couldn't afford to keep Crowe close. He was a distraction. The more you interacted with him, the more dangerous it became. Sol was always watching, always simmering in the background, and you couldn’t risk him finding out about Crowe. No more distractions.

Before you could stop yourself, your fingers moved faster than your mind. You typed the word “no” before deleting the message, quickly following up by erasing his contact entirely.

Done. That’s it. No more Crowe.

You breathed a sigh of relief—for now. You thought you could relax. You thought you could get back to your twisted little world with Sol, without anyone else interfering.

But then it happened.

The sickening realization hit you like a brick to the chest.

SHIT.

Crowe had added you to the group chat before you deleted his contact.

Your heart sank. You cursed under your breath, panic bubbling up inside you. You immediately opened the group chat, only to be greeted by a flood of messages. His name was there, right at the top of the list, and your chest tightened as you saw a few of the others already chatting away.

The chat was buzzing with messages about the Halloween party at school this Friday. The excitement was palpable, everyone discussing costumes, plans, and what to expect. You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of anticipation in the air as you scrolled through the messages, catching bits and pieces of the conversation.

Your mind drifted, and a thought struck you suddenly—maybe I should ask him to come with me.

Without a second thought, you quickly snapped a screenshot of the party announcement that Deryl had sent earlier, one with all the details. You attached it to the message and sent it in the group chat, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe you weren’t just sharing the information with the others.

Almost immediately, your phone buzzed with a response from Sol.

“A Halloween Party hosted by the school?” he asked, his message clear and direct, as always.

You felt a small spark of hope rise within you. Maybe this could be the perfect chance.

You sent another message, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you typed, asking if Sol had eaten yet. It felt like a random question, but your mind was racing, eager for some kind of connection.

You kept sending little questions, almost aimlessly—anything to keep the conversation going. It felt like you were trying to fill the silence, but deep down, you knew what you were really doing.

You were craving his attention, his responses. You couldn’t help it.

"I'm not quite into parties," Sol replied after a moment, his words calm but distant.

"Oh... Well, that's alright, just asking, that's all," you quickly typed back, trying not to sound disappointed, though a part of you was.

Then, to your surprise, another message came in almost immediately.

"Wait."

Your heart skipped a beat.

"If you're coming, then I'm coming as well."

The words sent a wave of excitement through you. He’s coming?!

"Really?!" you typed, almost too quickly, feeling a smile tug at your lips.

"Really," he replied, and for a moment, you felt your stomach flip.

"Do you plan on dressing up?" you asked, the curiosity getting the best of you.

"I don't know. Do you?" he responded.

"I mean, it's a costume party. Why not?" you replied, enthusiasm creeping into your tone.

"I'll think of something then," he said, and you could almost hear the slight smile in his words.

You hesitated for a moment, not sure whether to push Sol into the idea of going to the party. It felt like too much pressure, so you decided to soften your approach.

"It’s fine if you don’t want to come..." you typed, trying to make it sound casual. You didn’t want to make him feel obligated, but you couldn’t deny the ache in your chest at the thought of being alone at the party.

"Pardon?" he responded quickly, a bit confused. You could almost picture the raised eyebrow from him, a slight shift in tone.

"I mean, it’s Friday, so it’s the weekend, right?" You continued, trying to hide the vulnerability behind your words. "We could still hang out without going to the party. I just... didn’t want to be lonely."

There it was, the truth spilling out, but also a part of you knowing it was a perfect excuse for your real intentions. You needed Sol close. You needed him to understand that Crowe was out of the picture, that no one else could get in the way.

He was quiet for a moment, then typed: "Do you want to hang out with me?"

Your heart skipped. You didn't even hesitate.

"Yes," you typed, without a second thought. It was like you were dropping the last of your guard, exposing the raw, desperate need for his presence.

But deep down, you also knew you were playing the game just right. You were making sure to look like you were alone, like you didn’t have anyone else in your life. Crowe was out, and now Sol could see how easy it would be for him to sweep in. He’ll understand, you thought to yourself. I’m the fresh rabbit, and he’s always watching.

Your thoughts wandered to your conversation. You knew Sol liked horror films, he’d mentioned it before. You felt a surge of inspiration.

"What about a horror movie?" you asked casually. "You know, something fun, something we can watch while hanging out?"

There was a slight pause before he replied. And then it came.

"I guess I could do that...," he typed, and for the first time, there was something different in his words. It was as if he wasn’t just dry and indifferent anymore. He sounded... slightly interested.

It made your heart flutter. He’s cute, you thought to yourself, smiling as you typed.

You slipped into the kitchen, eyes scanning the food you had prepared earlier. You opened the containers, one after another, heart thudding in your chest. But it wasn’t touched. Not a single bite.

Your chest tightened as you checked another batch, and then another. The seals were intact. Nothing had been opened.

He’s not coming tonight.

You felt the realization hit you like a wave. The silence of the empty space was deafening, and you wanted to scream, to cry, to lash out at the crushing disappointment. But instead, you swallowed it all, letting the heaviness settle deep within.

Grabbing something quick to eat, you barely tasted it. The food turned to ash in your mouth as you moved to your room. The quiet was unbearable. You needed to do something—anything to distract yourself from the longing, the ache that refused to go away.

You sank to the floor, pulling your sketchbook and supplies toward you. The charcoal pencil felt familiar in your fingers, a lifeline. You began to draw, the lines forming without thought, your hands moving like a machine. Stroke after stroke, his face emerged on the paper. Sol.

His soft, yet piercing eyes. The way his lips held a hint of mystery, the curve of his jawline—strong but refined. Every detail you etched felt like worship, your devotion spilling onto the page. You poured yourself into the drawing, the room around you fading away until there was only him.

When it was done, a small, trembling smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You stared at the portrait, your sleepless eyes red and raw, but filled with an almost manic satisfaction.

Slowly, you hugged the portrait to your chest, clutching it as though it were him. The paper crinkled slightly under your grip, but you didn’t care. You kissed the charcoal lips on the drawing, your own trembling, tears sliding down your cheeks.

"Please... just be mine already," you whispered brokenly, your voice trembling with desperation. "I can’t wait anymore, Sol. I... I’ll do anything, just tell me what you want. Tell me, Please."

You stared into the lifeless eyes of the portrait, waiting for it to answer, to give you some sign. But of course, it was silent. You begged again, your tears smudging the edges of the drawing.

"Say something... please," you choked out.

But the portrait didn’t speak. It remained still, just like the real Sol—always so close, yet so far.

Curling around the paper, you let out a soft, pained sob. The ache in your heart felt unbearable, but you couldn’t stop. This obsession, this need—it had consumed you entirely. And no matter how much it hurt, you didn’t want it to stop. You wanted to push yourself with work.

The laundry room was quiet, the steady hum of the machine and the rhythmic sloshing of water the only sounds accompanying your thoughts. You moved mechanically, pulling clothes from the hamper, sorting them into piles, trying to ignore the lingering haze of obsession that clouded your mind.

I can’t keep going like this... you thought to yourself, folding one of your shirts. I need to focus on normal things. Normal people do laundry. Normal people don’t... don’t...

Your train of thought derailed as your hands brushed the fabric of a familiar piece of clothing. You frowned slightly, realizing something was missing. The set wasn’t complete. You glanced at the piles, searching, your hands moving faster, more frantic. Something wasn’t right.

Quickly, you abandoned the laundry, heading to your cupboard to double-check. You rifled through your drawers, tossing clothes aside until you found what you were looking for—or rather, what you weren’t finding. One of your shirts—your favorite, the one you wore at home—was gone.

At first, you froze, confusion flashing through you. Then, slowly, your lips parted into a soft giggle. Your face flushed as the realization dawned on you.

Oh, Sol...

A hand flew to your mouth as a giddy, almost delirious laugh escaped your lips. Your knees buckled, and you sat down in front of the cupboard, staring at the empty space where that clothing should’ve been.

He took it again. He stole it. That adorable little thief... How cute.

Your blush deepened as you thought about it. He can’t help himself, can he? It’s unfair... You glanced toward your bed, where the collection of his things was hidden away. He gets to take my clothes, and I only have his bandages and a pencil. It’s not enough.

You hugged your knees, staring dreamily at the laundry pile. The fabric, the scent, the soft feeling—it all reminded you of him. You let out a small, love-struck sigh, the flush on your face deepening.

"Oh, Sol," you murmured to yourself, your voice barely above a whisper. "When will you realize you already have me entirely like this? And yet, you still sneak and steal like a kid... You’re so cute."

For a moment, the world outside of Sol ceased to exist. Crowe, the laundry, your day-to-day life—it all faded into nothingness. There was only Sol. Your heart raced as you stood, your movements purposeful now. You opened the cupboard and pulled out the box where you kept his things—your most precious treasures. The bandages, his pencil, a tiny doodle of his you’d swiped from class. All of it.

You sat on the ground and opened your journal. The familiar pages greeted you, filled with sketches, notes, little scraps of his life that you’d painstakingly collected. Each page was a testament to your obsession, your devotion.

But this journal was full now, the last page crammed with your thoughts about him. There was no more room to document the all-encompassing love you felt. You smiled softly, running your fingers over the cover before carefully placing it into the box with the rest of the treasures.

"Time for a fresh start," you whispered to yourself.

You pulled out a new journal, the pages pristine and blank, waiting to be filled. You grabbed a pen and carefully wrote "Sol" on the first page in your neatest handwriting.

"Yay!" you said aloud, a childlike excitement bubbling up as you hugged the new journal to your chest. You tucked the box away in the cupboard and stood, a sense of accomplishment warming you. This is perfect. It’s all for you, Sol.

The day’s events had left you feeling drained, but for the first time in what felt like months, it wasn’t a bad kind of exhaustion. It was the sort that pulled you to the ground with a soft, irresistible weight. You lay down, clutching the sketch of Sol you’d finished earlier, holding it close like a lifeline.

You stared at it for a moment, tracing the lines with your fingers. His eyes, his lips, his hair—it was all there, captured perfectly. You pressed a kiss to the paper, your eyes fluttering closed.

"I love you," you whispered to the drawing, your voice barely audible. "One day, it’ll be real..."

The tears that slipped down your cheeks weren’t sad this time. They were soft, almost sweet, as you hugged the drawing closer and allowed your exhaustion to take over.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you drifted into sleep, clutching Sol’s likeness to your chest. Your dreams were filled with him, his presence warm and consuming, just like always. But this time, there was a strange comfort in it. The kind that made you feel like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[nottswitch]

Hey love, i was wondering if you could do 22 and 24 with sub Draco :) ? Absolutely loooveee ur work and I'm super curious to see what you come up with !!

hi babe, i’m so happy you like my work, and thanks for your request!! 💘 it’s my first time writing for draco, so i’m a bit nervous, but also excited. hope you enjoy :)

prompt list

22. "not here, please."

24. "it’s all over."

۶ৎ navigation ; masterlist ; draco m.list ; how to request

18+ smut

dinners at the malfoy manor had always been a fancy occasion, even with just draco’s friends – he was a bit of a show-off, or a lot, depending on his mood at the exact point in time. you were sitting next to him at the generously served table, sipping on the most expensive white wine one could find in the entirety of britain and listening to the guys discussing something quidditch-related.

his suit caught your eyes again, and you turned your head to have a better look – not that you hadn’t already seen it from all possible angles, but there was something about this particular piece that made you want to ruin the perfection that was the smoothness of the designer fabric. and you knew just the way to do it.

pretending to listen to mattheo’s endless rambling about the latest falmouth falcons win against appleby arrows, you casually slipped your hand under the table. it found draco’s thigh with practiced ease, softly caressing the silky-smooth leg of his trousers. immediately, you felt his muscles tense under your touch, which made your lips tug in a smirk around the rim of your wine glass.

"not here, please," draco whispered in a strained voice, trying his best not to look as your hand started traveling up, up, up, your fingers skimming and kneading his inner thigh. you raised an eyebrow, the gesture subtle, but obviously catching his attention even from the corner of his eye. draco swallowed, obediently spreading his legs a bit further apart to grant you access – the look in your eyes told him everything he had to know, and his cock, already half-hard, twitched at the realization of what was about to happen.

you watched the situation sinking in for him, and without further ado, placed your hand right on the tent in the black, silken fabric of his pants. draco’s fingers tightened around his own glass, as tight as his teeth were clenched – he prayed to everything that was holy that none of the guys would have an idea to ask him a question right now.

you slowly palmed him through his trousers, the time spent to get him fully hard being comically short. you felt the flutter of his pulse nearly beating out of his cock under your hand, making you feel even more powerful than you already were. draco’s thighs tensed at each movement, and you could hear his breathing getting more shallow – a sign that no one but you could understand.

a few torturous moments later, his trousers were unbuttoned, the bulge in his briefs now bared to the chilly air inside the dining room. a shiver ran up draco’s spine at the sensation, and he took another sip of wine to at least appear somewhat nonchalant. his gaze was fixed intently on mattheo, who was in the process of demonstrating a particularly impressive movement of his favourite beater during the game. under the table, hidden by the cloth, your index finger was circling the tip of his cock through the briefs, feeling the spot rapidly dampen with precum.

"f-fuck," draco quietly stuttered out, immediately washing the word down with a sip of wine. your eyebrow quirked up, and the next second, your palm landed silently but firmly on his thigh, giving it a punishing slap. draco closed his eyes, his hand almost squashing the glass, to stop himself from flinching. his cock didn’t listen, though, twitching eagerly at every single brush of your hand, be it a gentle caress or a smack.

"quiet,” you whispered, your eyes not leaving the chatting guys across the table, blissfully unaware of what their friend was going through. draco swallowed and nodded, leaning back against the leather of the chair and pretending to keep up appearances.

your hand went back between his legs, continuing the up-and-down movements over his warm length. you knew it wouldn’t take long for him to cum, not when he was in public like that, so to say. he kept still, but you could see tears starting to well up in his eyes from how painfully aroused he was and how much he was already aching to come undone.

a squeeze, and there it was. you could see draco’s legs shake under the table as his cock was nearly bursting out of his briefs, string after string of white seeping through the thin fabric and staining his pants. your hand was safely out of reach, so you didn’t even have to wipe it, just pull it up and rest it on the table. draco didn’t have such a privilege, discreetly glancing down and realizing he would have to either clean all of this up somehow or stand up with obvious white stains on his crotch. he glanced at you, his eyes pleading for you to do something, but the only thing you gave him was a small shrug. however, the sight of his glassy eyes made your expression soften just a bit.

"it’s all over," you murmured quietly, so that others wouldn’t hear. you leaned in, your lips brushing against draco’s ear and making the tiny platinum hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "if you clean yourself up nicely, i’ll give you a reward once everyone leaves."

it took everything for draco not to whimper at your sultry words. he knew exactly what you meant – the night was going to be a long one.