#ill perk right up again i know i will

[storm-driver]

im gonna take this moment to just vent on main rq, it's nothing super serious, it's mostly just about my writing

it's been 3 and a half years since my last substantial updates to atone and repay. and breaks and hiatuses are fine to take for any author, i would never shame anyone else for putting stuff above their writing. but i feel kinda disappointed in myself because i took me so long to get going again.

a lot of it is because of the mental health issues, the life issues, relationships and all. i refuse to dig that stuff up anymore for the betterment of my health. however, i still cant help but look at my writing and realise something i was so passionate about suffered so badly from it.

that piece of writing that spiraled into its own story was my pride and joy back when i was 17-years old. i had nothing going for me outside of my grades in high school, i didnt feel confident in my art skills except for the occasional drawing i liked. my writing was the only thing i enjoyed doing. and along came 2020 to kill it.

that period of time is difficult for me to recall. but i know one of the things i regretted the most was abandoning my writing. it wasn't me taking a break. it wasn't even a hiatus anymore. it was just me running away from something i used to love so god damn much.

i still have over 20 drafts of various KH fics sitting in my google drive folders. none of which ive touched in years. ive been so afraid to re-explore my old writing and get back to it, because im so afraid i cant measure up to what i used to be able to do. i dont know if my passion is the same as it used to be.

the change ive gone through in the past few years was for the better, and i can feel it. i'm a much happier person than i used to be. i'm hardly bearing the burdens that weighed me down as much as they used to. i'm enjoying being alive and interacting with people again.

but there's still some part of this guy wishes who they were still the same person they used to be.

[racingmiku2018]

i like my job and i like having money but remembering that i have to work makes me feel like a baked good deflating immediately after being removed from the oven. work takes up so much of my energy that i barely have enough for the things i like to do outside of it like drawing and crafting and reading and gaming and i need to spend like 90% of my weekend just recovering from the work week and by the time im up to doing literally anything i have to go to bed bc i have work in the morning

[im-yn-suckers]

ᴄᴀᴜɢʜᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ? ✧˖° bf!riki x gf!reader ✧˖° tw: kissies, cuddles, mention of stress, reader is said to be short but that could literally js mean shorter than him, and only sorta maybe perhaps a little kinda self indulgent bc i want a riki ^^ a little disclaimer: idk if riki listens to all of these, as they just come off of my playlist !

your desk is covered in pens, pencils, sticky notes and other supplies. ah yes, another paper, but this time you finished in time. previously you were worrying about getting in on time and if you did it right. will the professor think its good? will i get a good grade? i hope i didnt mess up

all of these thoughts crowded your mind for days maybe even weeks. it brought you tears and pride. the final paper you so horridly dreaded now turned in as you leave your desk, not bothering to clean it up. you walk over to your bf, who was busy playing league on the couch, that filled up, almost, the entire room.

you plop down next to him, leaning on his shoulder. his scent intoxicating you, god, how you missed it for the last 3 hours. "you done pretty girl?" he asks, though not looking down, too focused on his game. you only nod. minutes pass and youre still cuddled up to him. soon enough, he turns the tv off and turns toward you, fully sideways. he lets himself fall back onto the couch, allowing you to fall w him.

a giggle leaves his pretty lips, as you fall on top of him. the couch cant fit the both of you so he improvised. you lay your head on his shoulder, almost his clavicle. you lightly peck the skin-exposed by his black hoodie-covered by pretty moles. "youre squishing me!" "shhh this was all you" he sighs in defeat. "lets go to the bed then" you sigh, not wanting to move.

on the bed, you two lay on your backs, close together. something about his calm presence when you two are in bed, ready to fall asleep, is so comforting. maybe it was his scent, as mentioned, its intoxicating, almost dizzying. or maybe his giant figure next to yours, offering a sense of protection. maybe his soft breaths as he lays down, scrolling tiktok, not quite ready to sleep, yet.

"baby, baby!" he perks up, seeing a video "hm?" you respond, on the verge of falling asleep. your eyelids droopy. "lets make a playlist and take turns adding songs!" you giggle as you hear the idea, finding it quite endearing. you nod in agreement. he opens his laptop and pulls up spotify.

tapping the plus, he creates a new playlist. "what should we name it?" he asks, trying to complete the first step. "mmmm idk, something short but cute" he types in your name to tease you. "hey!" "what?? you said short and cute!" he deletes the name, trying to think of a new one.

"wait! ki! yk the song tell my momma by kard?" you have an idea, hoping its a good one. "uhm i know OF it, why?" "how bout we put 'ill do anything to make our love last long'?" you suggest a long but sweet lyric "baby, thats corny" "so is making a playlist tgt" silence. "ugh ig ure right" you giggle and he puts down the lyric.

"ok songs, you add one first" he pushes the laptop your way and you think for a moment you add the first song, every kind of way by h.e.r, he smiles seeing the song. he takes his turn "where is love" by 3house. your turn again, "wa-r-r" by colde. his turn again, "someone like u" by lullaboy "infranumi" by steve lacy, "pink+white" by frank ocean. "seasons" by wave to earth, "3:00 am" by finding hope it goes back and forth adding songs and laughing

once you two finish, he shuts the laptop, reaching over to set it down. he turns to his side to grab you and pull you close to him. his arms wrapping around you. he presses a little kiss to your lips saying goodnight.

[lmaowhatt]

early christmas gift - jj m.

summary: a very early crhistmas gift.

set: two and a half months after part one, late november. please read the 'set' section in pt one to understand this!

psa: jarah had their baby and named her josephine joy. she is around 9 months.

one - two - three - four

pairing: jj maybank x pogue!reader

warnings: starts off as fluff (very cute imo), suggestive topic, smut, f!inger!ng, praise, p in v, unprotected sex, (wrap before you tap!) pregnancy trope, cursing.

if theres any others feel free to let me know!

pre a/n: final exams are absolutely wrecking me so i might not post until this friday (12-20) when we officially get off school.

you and the girls were all currently cramped in a corner of setting up the christmas tree as baby jj giggled at your bickering with cleo. "ow, cleo!" you called as you moved your arm back, effectively elbowing her chin. you rolled your eyes dropping the ornament in hand, "fucking hell this is pissing me off," you grumbled, moving away from the cramped corner and sitting besides baby jj on the couch.

you cooed at her, tickling her stomach as she squirmed with loud giggles. you smiled, pulling away, only to have her climb hastily onto your lap, squeezing your cheeks with her small hands. you laugh, poking her tummy with both of your pointer fingers. "hi sweet girl," you smiled, pulling your fingers away again to pinch her cheek lightly.

you smiled at jj as he came over with a smile, sitting beside you. "you know you look good right?" jj muttered under his breath as he scooped baby josephine into his hands, holding her to place her small feet on his thighs. "y'think so?" you asked with a tilted head, eyes on him and baby jj. you fixed your white lightweight sweater, adorned with a light pink bow design in the center. you then moved to fix your mid-thigh length white jean skirt, only to be stopped by jj.

"y'ass looks good baby, leave the skirt alone," he compliments with a small smile, eyes moving down to your thighs before flicking back up to your eyes. you laughed, "really?" you raised an eyebrow, "staring are we, maybank?" the man held back a smirk, shrugging instead. "can you blame me? been obsessed with you for forever, ass is only a small perk," he jokes, you shoving his shoulder in return. he laughs, bringing baby josie to sit facing outward on his lap, "im kiddin' baby, i love you," he leaned in to peck your lips, a gesture which you smiled to.

you hummed, "i guess i love you too," sighing heavily, you shrugged your shoulders with a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. "cmon mama, at least make it believable," he nudges your shoulder with raised eyebrows as baby josie leaned back into his front. "i love you," you smile, holding his chin in between your thumb and pointer finger, bringing his lips to yours, connecting them as a form of small reassurance and affection.

he smiled as you pulled away moving to whisper into your ear, covering baby josephines ears 'just in case', "ill show you just how much i love you later, yeah?" he kissed the curve of your ear, moving to sit josie in between the both of you before standing up, winking in your direction and walking back outside to where john b, pope and james were hanging up christmas lights.

you let out a shaky breath at his words, crossing your legs as you tried to distract yourself by playing with baby jj and her toys that were sprawled on the couch and floor beneath you. you looked up at a rustling sound that was heard from outside, locking eyes with jj who had been watching you intently, licking his lips as he caught your gaze before going snapping out of his haze when john b slapped the back of his head.

after a while, the sun had begun to set. john b and sarah occupied themselves by taking baby josie up to their room trying to get her down for an early bedtime. pope and cleo decided to spend the night outside near the bundle of hammocks the crew had assembled after almost three years. james and kiara had left to take a late night boat ride, trying to bask in whatever moments alone they could muster.

you lay stomach down on the couch, now changed into more comfortable, legging-feel like shorts and a loose tee. your leg hung off the couch as you scrolled mindlessly through different social media apps. you failed to notice when jj strolled in from the back porch into the kitchen. you shut off your phone, only focusing your attention onto him when he patted the swell of your ass twice while walking past. "hi, j," you smiled, sitting up as you watched his eyes trail over every single item in the fridge, settling on grabbing a single strawberry.

you stood, walking over to rest your elbows on the small island that served as an opening between the living room and kitchen, watching him intently as he bit into the strawberry, doing a double take to go back into the fridge and grab a couple pineapple rings kie had so graciously cut. "y'know those are josie's, right?" he raised an eyebrow at her with a small smirk, "she doesnt know left from right, mamas. shell be fine, plus its november. she wont miss 'em" the man declared, bitting into the pineapple.

you chuckled as the man's eyes widened, going back to grab more pineapples, muttering something about buying baby josie another pineapple another day. "cmon baby, taste 'em. theyre good," he called to you as you walked through the kitchen threshold, hoisting yourself up onto the counter, jj taking the opportunity to move in between your legs, placing a hand on your thigh while moving the other, pineapple in his grip, towards your mouth.

you hummed, licking your lips with a shrug, "its good, damn." you muttered. quickly, you moved your hand to snatch the rest of the pineapple rings from his grasp before he could eat them,slipping them into your mouth and jumping off the counter, only offering him a soft smile. "you little.." he mumbled, rushing to chase after you as you ran up the stairs in a fit of quiet laughs. he was able to catch your waist at the top of the staircase, squeezing slightly as he pulled you closer to him.

"you're right, theyre good." you nodded up at him with a smile. he squinted his eyes at you, "you owe me," he squeezed your waist once more, rubbing his thumbs over the soft flesh in a soothing motion. "yeah? i dont think so maybank," you matched his squinted gaze, to which he shook his head. "no, i think you do," you smiled slightly at his words, only prompting a smile to pull at his lips as he pushed you backwards towards your bedroom door, opening it in one swift motion, his steady movements towards the bedroom not faltering.

you furrowed your eyebrows, silently proposing a fake challenge, "and in what way, hm baby?" you asked as you sat on the edge of the bed while jj locked the door. you laughed as he climbed on top of you, slowly trailing open mouthed kisses from your shoulder up to your lips. you smiled into the kiss, placing your hands on either side of his face as he manuevered the two of you so youd be sitting on his lap. he leaned back against the headboard and you moved to kiss down the side of his neck, leaving small love bites every once in a while.

"have i told you how much i love you mama?" he asked with heavy breaths which were getting heavier and heavier as he slipped your shirt off. you let out a sound of denial in the spur of the moment as you pulled away to face him. "not recently no," you teased as he smirked back at you with light hooded eyes. "guess i could show you, hm?" he asked, hand moving to grasp your ass, pulling you closer to him. you let out a small gasp, accompanied by a slight bite of your lip, taking into account the young girl in the room across the hall.

all you could do is watch with heavy breaths as his hands moved from your ass to your thighs, continuously moving up and down as he shifted to sit up straighter against the headboard. "this okay?" he asked. one of the things you loved most about him, no matter how many times the two of you had been intimate with eachother, he always made sure to check on you and make sure you were comfortable with everything he was doing.

"of course, baby," you smiled at him, watching as his head hung low, one of his hands moving back to your ass while the other move to tease the waistband of your loose shorts. he dug a finger into the waistband, pulling only slightly before retracting his finger, the snap of the band against your skin reverberating in the confines of the quiet room. watching your frustrated face, he let out a deep chuckle, "patience, mama," he kissed the top of your boob as he continued to play around with your waistband.

you sighed, running your nails allow lightly along his upper arms, nails only digging into his skin lightly when you felt his hand slip into your shorts and past your panties. "really, baby? all wet f'me and i haven't even done anything," he smiled up at you, almost with a small pout on his face, very faint if you really searched for it. "baby, this ain't fair," you muttered, rocking your hips slightly against his hand, trying to get as much friction as possible as he gathered up your slick in his index and middle finger.

"calm down baby, you know i always leave my girl satisfied, hm?" he asked as slowly inserted both fingers into you. you let out a soft moan, watching the smile on jjs face light up as he pulled you closer, curling his fingers inside you and using the hand that currently wasnt in you to move your waist, rocking you against his hand.

you bit your lip so hard you swore you were drawing blood. in the moment, you didnt care. you were more so worried about what sarah and john b would say or do if their daughter was woken up an hour into her sleep and what the man beneath you was doing to your body.

so you continued on biting your lip as you moved your hips in rhythm with his hand moving you, yours and jjs eye contact never deterring. "th'atta girl. you got this mama," he praised, curling his fingers at a slightly faster pace, relishing in the moans you were giving him.

as soon as he noticed you letting your lead loll back and tilt slightly to the side, a telltale sign you were close to your release, he slowly removed his fingers from your core, cooing at your needy whine. as you went to complain, you watched him lick his fingers clean, your eyes shifting down as he moved to tug down his sweat shorts, along with his boxers. "as i said, patience, a'ight?" he murmured, hands trailing slowly up your thighs once he had freed himself from the confines of his bottoms.

he moved your panties to the side, grabbing the backs of your thighs, pulling you up closer to his dick. he moved his hands to your hips, relishing in the look you put on when he began to sit you down gently onto him, torturous inch by torturous inch. you were, however, relieved that he was being as gentle as he was with you, knowing he could be going much harder. "y'okay? talk to me," he muttered, waiting for some sort of approval from you to keep moving.

you looked back up to him from where your bodies connected, nodding hastily. "im.. good," you spoke quietly, giving him a lopsided smile. "lets just keep it down a bit, yeah?" you regained a bit of consciousness, giving him some sort of a pointed look. he chuckled, "sayin' that to me, yeah?" he gripped your hips tighter, the sort of grip where come tomorrow, there would be light bruising.

you let out a breathy laugh, taking matters into your own hands, rocking your hips against his, while also bouncing ever so slightly. he groaned at your sudden movements, throwing his head back to rest against the headboard. "just like that baby, keep doin' that f'me, yeah? doing so good," he watched you with hooded eyes as you tugged at the hem of his shirt, him raising his arms in order for you to swiftly remove his shirt.

the shirt was discarded, thrown somewhere in the room, to be dealt with later. you teased his body, taking your nails lightly up and down his back as you leaned down to kiss his collarbone, him humming in approval while moving his hands up and down the sides of your body, reaching behind you to unclip your bra.

this continued for a while, your movements turning sloppier and slower as you both neared your release. jjs smirk widened, immediately spotting the whiny look on your face. "need somethin' baby?" his hands hung low on your hips that slowly came to a stop, both of your releases now fully dependent on your tired body needing to be moved. "jj please.." you let out a half-moan, half-whine.

jj swore it was the most heavenly sound in his life, immediately smiling as his ears caught the sound. "i gotchu mamas," he flipped the both you over, him now fully in control as he slowly inserted himself back into your heat. once of his hands moved to grip the headboard, while the other was placed beside your head, propping most of his body up.

he began drilling into you at a faster pace than you could ever accomplish while being on top. you let out a cry of pleasure, wrapping your legs around his waist, allowing jj to reach a spot inside you he couldn't before. "shit.." the man groaned dipping his head to rest in the crook of your neck, "so good f'me," he concluded with a small groan, which sounded more like a whimper.

the constraint drilling, the sound of skin slapping against each other, accompanied by your moans and his groans filled the room for the next couple minutes. his movements became more rushed, sloppier as you both reached his release, the way you fluttered around him definitely speeding up the process.

you moaned, nails digging into his shoulders as your mouth dropped agape, the band of ecstasy that had been tightening as the night went on snapping, coating the man above you in your release. jj wasnt far behind you, throwing his head back and groaning (think that one gif from his short film🙂‍↕️) with one last dig into you as he shot ropes of his own release into your warm walls.

the both of you stilled for a moment, attempting to come down from your highs, heavy exhales leaving each others mouths, fanning the others body. he groaned as he pulled out, followed by a whimper of your own. "y'okay, mamas?" the man slipped his boxers and sweat shorts back on, swiftly moving off of you to grab his discarded shirt, helping to clean you up and slip your bottoms back on.

you nodded, shifting to your side of the bed, "im okay baby," you turned onto your side, propping your head up on your arm as you watched him search through this side of the dresser for a shirt to let you borrow. he grabbed a random kildare country tee, passing it to you, then moving to his side of the bed. "thank you," you mumbled, sitting up to slip the shirt off. he hummed in response, "shorts look good on ya," he then quipped, moving to his side of the bed, placing a kiss on the top of your head then getting comfortable under the covers.

"'cause they show off my ass, huh?" you rolled your eyes playfully as you moved to lay on your stomach, facing him. "well, sure..." the man muttered, "just you in general, you're beautiful," he reached a hand around your waist, pulling you closer to him as he took in your tired movements. he craned his neck down to kiss the top of your head again, "sleep well mamas," he muttered, rubbing his hand up and down your arm, occasionally moving to your waist and thighs to rub soothing circles. "goodnight baby," you whispered as your tired state took over. he smiled.

"g'night baby."

a/n: this was my first time writing anything close to smut so please dont judge. 🤗

[katsukistofu]

PLEASE (if you feel like it) WRITE FOR AIZAWA! A SICK READER TROPE MAYBE?

Btw ur fics are so good and are part of the reason why I’ve gotten back into mha <333 I love ur writing style sm and ur hawks fics??? That was amazing

hi my love! thank you so much omg that’s so sweet, i’m happy i helped you rekindle your love for mha again lol! <3

sick (but never of you)

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ s. aizawa x fem reader. fluff. cursing. 997 words ★ your husband insists on taking care of you when you fall ill, despite your protests.

Not this shit again. 

You groan as your eyes flutter open for the second time after you said you were fine, then proceeded to dramatically faint in Shota’s arms in the middle of your patrol and sit up, hurriedly tossing the pile of soft blankets off your body.

You shiver despite the warmth radiating from the heater nearby. Shota must have brought it out for you after getting you home.

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

The disapproving voice of your husband floats over, and there he is, leaning on the doorway with a steaming bowl of something in his hands. You perk up despite yourself. Miso soup? 

“I don’t have time to sleep off a little cold, Shota!” Your arms tremble as you try to force yourself off of the plush king-sized bed. “It’s already past nine, I have to head to the agency.”

“Don’t care, didn’t ask.” Shota wraps his arms around you to trap you in place, ignoring your insistent budging. “You’re staying home today with the cat.”

“But—But they need me…” You weakly mumble in his firm grip. It was no use trying to break free, and you’re not sure if you even want to anymore with how nice he feels against you.

“And I need you here.” His stern gaze doesn’t waver, and his hand guides your head from the back of your hair, which you’re certain looks like a disaster zone right now, to rest on his chest. “It’s my job to make sure you’re safe, happy and healthy.”

Shota brushes a hair from your face and tucks it behind your ear. The little beads of sweat on your skin don’t bother him in the slightest.

“So let me do my job.”

“Are you using your teacher voice on me?” You grumble into the dark fabric of his sleeveless shirt. He smells warm and like all things good, as if he just came out of the shower. 

“I vaguely recall someone commenting that it was ‘hot.” Shota’s gravelly voice teases your ear and his stubble tickles your cheek as he smirks, knowing he’s won the battle when he finally feels you melt in defeat against him. 

He brushes a soft kiss to your forehead. “Stay in bed, sweetheart, I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.” You say in a tiny voice, weakly slumping back into the sheets. 

Shota comes back with a spoon and a folded piece of paper. A hint of a smile tugs at his lips as he holds it out to you.

“Looks like I’m not the only one that wants you to stay home.”

Your eyes widen as you look at the get-well card in your hands.

feel beter soon!! lots of loove, eri it said, with millions of tiny hearts doodled around your name. You choke back a sob as your eyes fall onto the little stick figure drawings of you pushing the little gray-haired girl on a swing set. 

It looked just like the one from the playground nearby that you would often take her to on your days off.

us when youre not sick anymor! :D

“Shota, give me that damn soup.”

He chuckles deeply and scoots closer on the bed to feed you. You squeeze your eyes shut as a sharp throb suddenly pierces through your head.

“The room’s spinning again, that’s not normal is it?”

“No. No, it’s not.” Shota’s forehead creases in concern, bringing the spoon of warm soupy goodness up to your lips while his other hand holds yours.

You part your lips to drink it, letting the rich, comforting flavor of miso spread across your tongue.

Letting out a little sigh of relief, you’re about to lean back before Shota sets the bowl down on the nightstand to prop up the pillows behind you, making sure you’re comfortable before he picks it back up again and holds up another spoonful to your mouth.

“Come on, one more for me sweetheart.” 

“Not hungry anymore,” you huff, turning your head away from his outstretched hand.

He lifts an eyebrow. 

“We can cuddle after you take your medicine.”

“...Can you rub my tummy too?”

“You know I will.”

You sniffle and reluctantly open your mouth to sip a spoonful of the soup once again.

“Atta girl.” Shota smooths a kiss on your forehead, rubbing circles against the back of your hand. 

He reaches over to the nightstand to grab your medicine he picked up from the local pharmacy earlier, and hands a small cup of what he pours to you. 

You grimace at its cherry-colored contents and tilt your head back to drink it in one go like a shot.

“Good job. Now come lay on me.” He didn’t need to ask you twice, but Shota’s hands are already on your waist to gently flip you over him as he takes your previous position on the bed, setting you down to rest your head on your usual spot on his chest.

He strokes your hair gently, arm snug against your back while he presses you to him. “How are you feeling?”

“A little bit better,” you mumble, absentmindedly tracing the outline of his abs under his shirt. It's always been soothing to you.

Shota’s chest rumbles as he lets out a husky laugh. “Are you just saying that so you can keep tracing my abs?”

“Maybe.” You giggle against him, which turns into a cough and he firmly pats your back. His hand slides under your pajamas to rub gentle circles on your tummy like he promised. You softly squeal at the ticklish feeling of his hard-earned callouses against your skin, and Shota tenderly kisses your cheek once, twice.

All your senses are numb, but you can still feel the overflowing love behind them.

“Go to sleep, sweet girl. I got you,” he murmurs into your hair.

“Okay.” You comply easily this time, nuzzling deeper into his chest. “Goodnight, Shota.”

“Goodnight, angel. Love you.”

“Love you too,” you mumble before drifting off to sleep in the safety of his warm arms.

Maybe being sick wasn’t all bad.

[sugoi-writes]

Can I get some fluff of Alastor finding reader listening to old jazz songs from when he was alive and he makes us dance with him? :)

It's Been a While... (Alastor x GN! Reader)

Ahaha, I need more work on fluff, I hope you like it! There is SOME mentions of risque activites, but it's super brief, and nothing insanely explicit! Promise! I was honestly just writing to write, and figured this little blurb that fell out of me would be fitting enough. UNO REVERSE... We get ALASTOR to dance! Fuck yes!!!

Songs mentioned: In The Mood - Glenn Miller / Sing, Sing, Sing - Benny Goodman (both are bops I used to play when I was in jazz band houhosjknskhdj-- SURPRISE, you also get Danny Lore as a treato!)

Alastor's tense, heavy sigh sounds in the air, prompting you to crane your head up. You took in his disheveled state and instantly knew: he was exhausted. You stood from your plush armchair, abandoning it to walk toward his desk. 

"Alastor?" was all that was needed for his flattened ears to perk up. Your sweet voice was a much needed comfort during a particularly grueling evening. 

"Yes, dearest?" he replied, his smile hardly an upturned slit. You come up behind him slowly, waiting for his permission to touch. Alastor looks back to your hovering hands, and nods gingerly. He returns to facing his desk, allowing his eyes to lose focus as he zones out. When your arms wrap around his neck, his shoulders slump heavily, a pleased hum vibrating his chest. You smiled sweetly at the sound, a welcome pleasantry as you kissed his cheek. 

"You're getting frustrated again, my love..." you pipe up, continuing to pepper his cheek with chaste, innocent kisses. Your lover laughs bitterly, but leans into your musings all the same. 

"Well, I suppose you're right... leave it to my sweet, observant partner to know what's wrong... and when," he adds, a tired hand reaching up to rub slow circles into one of your arms. You grin against his cheek, your kisses slowing," I may also have a solution to your problem, if you'll hear me out~" 

Alastor hums in approval, grasping both of your hands when you continue to pamper him with sweet, physical adoration. 

"Dear, you are nothing if not full of brilliant ideas... I would love to hear them out," he muses, turning his head to plant a singular, sincere kiss to your lips. You were giddy at the affection, but capped your glee.  You tugged on his hands, eager to make your little plan work.

"Come on, come on... you'll have to get up for this one," you quip, forcing a dramatic sigh from your partner. Alastor throws his head back, laying it on your shoulder like an ill peasant woman. He would fan his face weakly, had your hands not been so warm.  

"My love, I have been stricken, and cannot get up~ Won't you let an old man rest?" he fired back. But truly, had you asked: he would happily jump into acid rain with nothing more than his dignity.

You roll your eyes at his theatrics, smirking," You? Old? I wouldn't figure... No, you old geezer, I need you to stand so we can use your legs. They're very important for what I want to do." Alastor blinked, gears turning in his mind. Only with you would his mind wander to dirtier, carnal ideas. 

"Dear, if I had wanted to do that tonight, I'm afraid your back would've already been bent out of shape--" 

"Oh for Fucks Sake, Alastor--" you cackled, tugging on him with more insistence. 

" Come oooonnnnn, please~? It's one of your favorites, I promise! Nothing dirty, no tricks!" Alastor's interest is instantly piqued, resulting in an immediate hop up. Even with his motion, his hands were still in yours. You huff, exacerbated but grateful you didn’t have to lift him yourself. 

"Ahh, if you would have led with that, I may've been more urgent to attend to you, dear," Alastor chuckles, not missing the flush that flashed across your cheeks. You pull away from Alastor long enough to turn on the radio, flicking through several frequencies and stations to find just the right channel. Alastor watches you in amusement, arms crossing in front of his chest. He was more than content to watch you struggle, shifting his weight onto one foot.

"Well, I have to keep some of the suspense, don't I?" you replied, grinning at him in a way that made Alastor's black heart beat wildly. He did quite enjoy your mischievous nature... But your attempts to work his radio almost had him pitying you... Almost. 

He scooted in behind you, resting his crossed arms over the top of your head," You could request a song, you know... I don't mind putting on something you enjoy--" 

"I'd rather it be something we’d both enjoy," you interject, huffing as you became an armrest for your demonic partner. Once you found the right channel, you swiveled under Alastor's arms to face him. Then, you reach up to hold his elbows, shaking them around playfully. 

"Alright, sir... It's been a long, long time since we've done this... I want to do this properly." 

Alastor relents, allowing you to push his arms off of your head. He tilts his own toward you, expressing confusion. In that moment, he finally hones in on the song itself. In The Mood, popularized and recorded by Glenn Miller. It was one of the few songs that came to mind when you thought of "Alastor's Time" in the 30s. Said demon blinks in surprise, grinning. He had listened to this recording a bit after coming to hell, and was particularly fond of it. Ahh, you had picked the perfect station! 

"Glenn Miller? Oh, you spoil me, love," Alastor coos, caressing your face as he kisses your forehead," Whatever did I do to deserve this?" 

You sway your hips, bouncing in place to the tempo with the old tune," I know the recording's after your time... but-- He's just-- GOOD, y'know?" You bite your lip as you pull Alastor's hands off of your face," Now come on, Al... let's dance!" What a perfect distraction to break his tension and troubled mind! Alastor just knew he would enjoy your little idea... 

His hands settle on you, both lightly caging your hips as yours held onto his wide shoulders. As the main motif began, the both of you started bopping along to the music. You watched Alastor's face morph fully into a relaxed state; smile still present, but much softer than his manic glee. You had to use every fiber in your being not to kiss him in that instant, instead squeezing his shoulders. Alastor's ears twitch as you draw soothing circles into his tense muscles, a shudder being torn from his entire frame. 

"Relax, Alastor... I want you to forget about everything, except for this...," you coo, making him sigh with acceptance. He came close to you, flushing your bodies together in a tight, intimate sway. You could only sigh as he settled his chin onto the top of your head. 

"Oh darling, if I relaxed anymore, I would be putty in your hands...," Alastor chimes, the tail end of his sentence wandering off as you press harder. Alastor huffs pleasantly, his hands holding your hips more firmly," Sweetheart, you really will be my undoing..." 

You chuckle as you settle your hands, allowing Alastor a moment of reprieve. He rolls his shoulders, one hand seeking to grasp your opposite hand. Once he drew your arm out with his, his other hand shifted to the small of your back. You saw him grinning, playful and energetic," If it's a dance you want, then it had better be a good one, hmm? So let's jive~" 

You squealed as Alastor practically whisked you off of your feet, spinning the both of you elegantly around his bedroom. The sounds of cicadas and frogs croaking in the distant, swampy marsh of his extended bedroom accompanied the sweet jazz that filled the air. Truly, it was tying everything together seamlessly. You had it all: a nice scene, nice music, and a relaxed, precious beau to spend all night with. You would have patted yourself on the back, were it not for Alastor's telltale sign of a 'big dip' move. You looped both arms around his neck, hanging on as Alastor swung you down, his monocle threatening to slip off his face. You laughed as you casually adjusted it. You stared, enthralled as you lay your hand over his racing pulse. However, the moment didn’t last long before you were brought back to your feet. But you thought now would be the best time to be a bit closer…

Getting bolder now, you pulled Alastor in for a kiss via his bowtie, eager to finish the dance off strong. Alastor, of course, had no protests, as he looped his arms around your waist. The two of you embraced like this for what felt like an hour, unable to pull apart your mingling, eager lips. But, with the song ended, leaving you both in silence, you managed to pull away. You looked up to Alastor with knowing eyes, your smile reflected in his deep, red irises.

"I loved that, Alastor, thank you... And I hope you don't mind me whisking you away from work..." 

The Radio Demon rolled his eyes, an imitation of your look from earlier. He leaned down to kiss your cheek, his lips still puffy from your kiss," My love, you must whisk me away more often... In fact, I think I'd like another dance, if you'll join me?" Of course, you agreed silently, stepping on to the very tips of your toes to seal it with a kiss. 

"I'd love nothing more." 

Alastor grins with a deep chuckle, the radio pumping out a new song. Sing, Sing, Sing, popularized by Benny Goodman. You blink in surprise as this number moves... MUCH faster. And, from the sound of it, it will get you to sweat. You laughed nervously as Alastor brought you in again, his hand directing your hips to sway with his. You couldn’t help but become a little flustered as he closed the gap between your bodies, a playful, coy smile sent your way. 

"Hold on tight, love. Some recordings of this song could last up to ten minutes~" 

"WHAT--" 

Alastor practically cackled as you trapped yourself within a saucy dance, one of many that would fill your evening with sweat, laughter, and best of all: an Alastor whose smile finally reached his eyes. 

[betterthana-six]

| MUSIC TO MY EARS - [ABBY ANDERSON] - CHAPTER ONE |

PAIRINGS: stoic!rugby player abby x fem!reader

SUMMARY: you and your new(ish) roommate, Abby Anderson, have gotten into an argument. about what? unclear at the moment. but it's got Abby in a fit of shame. until late one night she hears you outside with someone whose voice she doesn't recognize and listens in.

WARNINGS: this is my first story ive ever published here. please be kind! i am fragile lol. this is definitely a slow burn, but lots of pining, yearning, and, yes, smut to come. TRUST. so, mdni. there are a lot of flashbacks between now and when they met so we get the full story eventually. this is more of a light hearted story but it does deal with coming to terms with sexuality (and who best to help you along that journey but rugby playing and stoic Abby Anderson?). anyways, i hope that the five people who might read this like it. I've proofread but, like, nobody's perfect. if people like this and want it as a series, ill make a more personalized playlist for it.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Music To My Ears: Chapter 1

Abby is in your dorm room stretched out in bed with a book in her hands when she hears voices coming from outside. She watches the shadows dance in the light that extends under the door and into the room. It’s late. Abby hasn’t seen you all day. 

She tries to go back to reading, but her eyes glaze over the words almost immediately. Someone is leaning on the door, off and on making the hinge jingle in a way that is most times ignorable. Drunk students came through all the time, lingering in the hallways and leaning on the doors. But it isn’t ignorable now, not for Abby. 

The voices are muffled. They sound like they’re… giggling. One giggle is definitely yours. Abby could spot it from a mile away. The other’s is unfamiliar. Abby’s been reading the same passage over and over again and doesn’t even realize it.

It goes quiet outside and this time Abby closes the book, suddenly over-aware of her surroundings. She looks up at the reading light hanging from the headboard and instinctively switches it off. But she doesn’t want it to look like she turned it off because of them? She turns it on again without thinking and turns it off again, quickly entertaining the idea of faking sleep and listening in. With her hand on the switch Abby stops, realizing that they might start noticing the light going on and off and think she’s trying to signal something. She shakes her head at herself with embarrassment. She covers her face with both her hands. So stupid… she says under her breath. 

It’s been quiet for so long out there. But the shadows are still there. Abby lays down in bed and forfeits to her desire to eavesdrop. As icky as it makes her feel.

Your voice comes through finally. 

“What?” You ask, innocently.

“Don’t look at me like that.” An unfamiliar voice chimes in. It’s a woman’s voice. Abby couldn’t tell if she was feigning some sort of annoyance with you or if it was genuine.

“Like what?” 

A silence passes.

You sigh loudly. “Well, what’d you think of what I sent you? That wasn’t a cheap effort, you know. Full body mirror in the ladies’ locker room. Not too shabby.”

“You have to stop…” The other voice says, with a playful twinge that makes Abby’s curiosity perk up like dog ears. 

“Stop what? I can’t send you photos?” Your voice tells Abby you were in some daze, in the same way she could sometimes hear singers smile through their lyrics. Just thinking about you out there in the hall hanging onto the door and onto each of her words, shining your big green eyes at her. It sends a shiver down Abby’s spine.

“Not anymore,” the stranger says casually. “It was really good seeing you tonight but I have a boyfriend, remember? And I’ve told him about…us. High school. He knows… is the thing. He thinks I’m studying for midterms right now.” 

You laugh at that. In a sweet way, though. “Right,” you say and you sigh, seemingly unaffected by the reminder. “Jeremy?”

“Jeremiah,” the woman corrects.

“God, that’s even worse.” 

Abby snorts, basically smashing her lips shut with her hand, and then rages at herself silently in the dark for fear they may have heard her.

 “Did you… even look at them?” you ask. God, are you drunk? Abby has now given up on the book entirely, laying up on one elbow to stare at the door, imagining the conversation visually. 

A laugh from the woman. Mumbling now, feigning sheepishness, “Yeah.”

“And?”

“And…I think…about them, about you. Of course.” Abby’s hands are clasped together, tightening around one another at this.

“Yeah…?” you draw out the stranger’s words seductively with your own. Abby imagines you in the long, maroon dress you typically wear for special occasions. Was this a special occasion? She nearly has the impulse to check your closet just to be sure, but that’s crazy and much more invasive that what she was already doing. Her knuckles are turning white.

“And I think in another universe, maybe. Not this one. I can’t. You know why,” the stranger says sheepishly. “You’re so sweet.” And, in Abby’s imagination, there’s a dainty, gloved hand reaching out to caress your face condescendingly. The illusion entrances her to near paralysis.

A long pause from you. Abby listens hard, completely unable to stop herself from paying close attention now. In the near silence, Abby could sense your breath faltering through the door. Despite how the two of you left things, she didn’t want to see you hurting like that. Say something… Abby thinks.

When Abby hears you speak again, the sweetness in your voice has vanished. She nearly doesn’t recognize the sound. 

“Fuck…” There’s a lump in your throat, Abby could tell just from your voice when you were smiling and, just as easily, she could hear when you were about to burst into tears. “Why… why did you invite me out tonight then?” 

No answer.

“You have a boyfriend…” you continue in a matter-of-factly tone, raising your voice a bit, to Abby’s surprise. “Jeremy…yeah, so you’ve explained. Great guy, great future. So, you have the boyfriend, the good job lined up, you’re almost done with college. Man, you’re doing fucking great.” Abby’s mouth was left agape, her heart cheering with unwarranted pride for you, urging you on to read this stranger to filth. “Why start texting me again?” You ask.

“You’re here,” the woman clarifies indignantly, like it should be obvious. “I wanted to see you. I didn’t know you transf-”

 “That’s not what I’m ask- why’d you ask me out tonight?” You cut her off. “Purely to fuck with me?”

“No…”

“No, what? I’m just- I’ve always just been here at your disposal. Ever since we were teens. Chasing my tail around like a dumb dog, waiting for her master to one day be unashamed to be seen with me.” Abby’s hand travels to her mouth now in delight. She’s smirking like a clown, fully impressed with you. But, you were in tears at this point. Abby knew by now that, only drunk, would you show your tears like that. “Abby was right,” you mutter. Abby almost didn’t hear you.

“I’m gonna go,” the woman said. “It was good seeing you tonight.” It sounded like more of a question than a genuine statement. And then the sound of footsteps, a shadow moving away and then out of sight.

“Yeah. Go, for fuck’s…” You say messily. You were definitely not sober. And then Abby hears your body thud against the door one last time and senses you sliding down to the floor. She hears the tears. Abby instinctively began to get up, feeling the need to see you, talk to you, hold you. 

But she stopped herself. You wouldn’t even talk to her a few hours ago, why would you want her comfort now?

***

At that point in time, you and Abby were seasoned roommates. Well, not seasoned. You guys were in that awkward in-between stage of knowing each other where you’d half-memorized each other's schedules but there wasn’t any synchronicity to your dynamic yet. Changing clothes in the same room was still very touch-and-go.

However, when you first met there was immediate tension. It was winter then, and transferring colleges midway through sophomore year meant knowing absolutely no one. At least, you thought, you would have a roommate. But, when you first met, Abby was so much… harder. And, she was stoic and casual in a way that threw you off entirely.

“Are you looking through my shit?”

“No!” You said stiffly, whipping your head around to catch sight of the figure in the door. But, there you were. You stood fixed on her side of the room, where you just had your eyes deeply focused on the engraved rugby medals hanging on the shelf, her shelf. You were caught red handed and the lie came out of your mouth readily and in a panic. Abby was already smirking. 

“Yes,” you corrected yourself. “Sorry. I don’t know why I lied. But I’m just looking. I’m not going through it, per say, I promise.” 

Abby laughed and rolled her eyes. “Calm down. It’s fine.”

You smile and take five awkward steps over to your side where your bed was just a bare, blue mattress and your luggage rested waiting to be unpacked. It was a stark comparison between our sides of the room even still. Her bed was military neat, with perfectly tucked in covers and a single pillow centered at the head. The medals were all lined up but in a way that didn’t look too showy. Some polaroids were tucked into the creases between her window and the sill. Your suitcases were patterned and scuffed badly on the corners. Littered across them all were stickers you had found from anywhere you could find them. Your clothes made you look avant garde compared to Abby and you had a sudden knot in your stomach that told you to feel self-conscious. 

“They didn’t tell you who was moving in here, did they?” you asked.

“Ah. Typical administration shit. I didn’t even know someone was moving in today,” she explained, throwing her gym bag down onto her bed and then turning to you with an open hand to shake. “Abby.”

You shook her hand, returning her name with yours. You noticed the way Abby looked deeply into your eyes for a long second, too long for a first introduction. And the way she smirked at you while she did it confounded you; it was the same way someone held out their hand to a stray cat. To be fair, that was an accurate analogy. You were clad in winter jackets with a flushed face whereas she was radiating heat, skin almost steaming under her gym clothes. Her hands were rugged, you noticed.

“Well,” Abby said, turning to her bed and unzipping her gym bag. “I’ve been told I’m a good roommate. By no one actually. You’re the first roommate I’ve had since the first half of my freshman year. Uh…I keep to myself. I need quiet most nights because I get up early, so no boyfriends over on weekdays.”

You nodded along when she turned to you and sat on the edge of her bed wearing a slight grimace at that last idea. “But if you do, do me a favor and just text me beforehand. Don’t want to be walking in on any man butt.” You laughed a bit loudly at that. You just shook your head.

“No. That won’t be a problem,” you said. Abby caught your eye suspiciously and cracked a small and crooked smile.

“Okay,” Abby said. She turned back around, grabbed a towel from her drawers, and threw it on the bed. Then, she casually lifted her sweaty wife beater up over her head and it’s only then that you look at Abby long enough to notice her size and shape. She was severe, and you’d been so caught up in meeting her, you didn’t necessarily take in her physical appearance. But now that she faced away you could see the sheer definition of her body, starting at the dimples on her lower back trailing up to her massive shoulders. All of it glistening with a polished coat of sweat.  And the rest… it would take a few more interactions to even comprehend all of her.

She must have sensed the eyes on her back because she turned around. You looked away quickly, trying busy yourself with the things around you, but there was nothing. 

“Sorry,” your cheeks flushed red. But Abby was full frontal, positioned now with her messy hair unbraided, sprawled around her shoulders, grinning at you. She paused for a moment, maintaining eye contact, with only a towel around her waist.

But then she just shrugged, grabbed her toiletries, and said, “Later.”

You watched her leave. Watched her with wide eyes as she opened the door with one hand and used the other one to lazily cover her chest as she headed towards the showers. You even heard her say “sup” to someone on her way.

Alone, you felt the rush of the moment channel directly to your stomach and burst like flames across your face. 

***

That was just the beginning. Abby thinks of it now.

Now, face up on her bed, contemplating her next move, Abby recalls you as you were. She was immediately taken with you, that first day. Your wide eyes and timidity around her. Abby's own stupid, casual arrogance. Obviously, as Abby quickly learned later, that first impression of you was not at all fully representative of the truth. 

Maybe if she had stopped then, stopped the teasing, stopped what she intended to be light, meaningless flirting, Abby wouldn’t be hesitating to open the door. Perhaps she would be opening the door to find you in tears, take your face in her hands and tell you everything she’d been aching to say for three months now.

Abby gets up off her bed and walks to the door. She squeezes the handle, takes a breath, and then turns it slowly.

Comment if you want to be on this story's taglist!

Chapter 2

[killerelysia]

Pardonnez-moi, Monsieur!- Solivan brugmansia x Yan!G.N Reader! (Part 5!) {1st part)

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.

This part will contain the Arcade Scene in Sol's Route so...Proceed with caution.

Mentions of Pet-names, Blood, (Implied ATTEMPTED S/A),

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.

The school bell echoed through the hallway, signaling the start of the next class. Hyugo groaned loudly, stretching his arms dramatically.

"I don't want to go to class. I hate my History teacher almost as much as I hate my archery coach."

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. "Weird. Doesn’t George of the Jungle like archery?" you quipped without thinking.

Hyugo froze, his baby-blue eyes narrowing slightly as his pout deepened. "Well, that’s his thing! It’s not like he shares everything with his big brother, you know. But I’m the star now, Y/n." His tone was defensive, but the look on his face said something else entirely: How the hell do you know so much about us?

You didn’t respond to his unspoken question, simply smiling to yourself. Keeping tabs on the secrets of the brothers had its perks, even if you were cautious not to push any boundaries. They weren’t people you wanted to turn against you. Dangerous as they were, having those secrets up your sleeve felt oddly empowering. And with Sol on your side, you weren’t too worried about the fallout. Hyugo clearly adored Sol, and Sol? Well, he wasn’t letting anyone mess with you.

It was to make sure, Geo won't diss your ass.

"Why don’t you just skip class then?" Sol suggested, almost too casually.

Hyugo’s entire face lit up, his eyes practically sparkling. It was as if a literal lightbulb had turned on above his head.

Both you and Sol immediately recognized that look.

“Don’t tell me—” Sol started, but Hyugo cut him off with a dramatic wave of his hand.

"I am skipping class! That’s it. Fuck this school!" he declared triumphantly. "If they’re going to treat us like crap, we might as well be the bad guys. Right, Y/n?"

You sighed heavily, already seeing where this was headed. Sol mirrored your reaction, exhaling loudly with a look of resigned annoyance.

Hyugo leaned closer, his grin widening mischievously. He was practically glowing with chaotic energy as he nudged you. “Come on, Y/n. Don’t tell me you’ve never skipped class before. It’s a beautiful day to break a few rules.”

Skipping class? As if you’d never done it before. Honestly, you’d lost count of the times you’d avoided lectures just to stalk observe Solivan Brugmansia. And now? The man himself and his overly enthusiastic counterpart were inviting you to join them. The temptation was palpable.

It wasn’t just tempting—it was irresistible.

Hyugo turned up the charm, grinning at you like the devil himself.

His expression screamed to you. But you know he doesn't know.

C’mon, Y/n. Look at this—your dream guy, Solivan Brugmansia, right here. All we’re missing is you. Come to the dark side—we’ve got rooftop vibes.

Your lips twitched. "Stop reading my mind," you muttered under your breath.

Skipping class actually sounded pretty good. The teacher was dull, Crowe would be there—ugh, not worth the effort. You glanced at Sol, who stood quietly, waiting for your decision. His expression said he’d go along with whatever you chose, but there was a certain edge of don’t make me regret this.

Hyugo’s voice interrupted your thoughts again. "So? What’s it gonna be? Stay here and suffer? Or join us in sweet rebellion?" He leaned in closer, his grin practically daring you.

“Fuck it. We skip!” you said with finality, throwing caution to the wind.

Hyugo cheered, throwing his arms into the air like he’d just won a championship. “That’s the spirit!”

Even Sol couldn’t hide the faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He sighed again but nodded, his hand brushing against yours briefly as he turned to follow Hyugo toward the stairs.

Well, you were already falling. Might as well enjoy the descent.

"But how the hell do we even pull this off? Obviously, we can’t go through the entrance. The vents are blocked, and—"

Sol’s lips curled into a small smile, one so rare and heart-stopping that your brain short-circuited on the spot.

"I know a way," he said calmly.

Wah! Huh?! Ehh?! Your heart was practically exploding as your face turned a deep, humiliating shade of red. You could barely think straight. Sol didn’t even seem to notice your flustered state as he turned and began leading the way.

Hyugo, oblivious as ever, dashed ahead, his energy as wild as ever. If either of them caught a glimpse of your lovesick expression, you’d never live it down.

The path Sol chose led to the back of the school, near the edge of the gardens. Towering iron fences barricaded the perimeter, but Sol confidently navigated through the greenery until he stopped in front of a large bush. He crouched and pushed it aside, revealing a decently sized hole in the fence.

Your jaw dropped. "Wait. Did you… make this? Sol?"

Before he could answer, Hyugo interjected with a proud grin. "He didn’t."

Sol cast Hyugo a sharp look. "He did."

Hyugo’s grin only widened. "I did," he admitted smugly before dropping down and crawling through the gap without hesitation.

Sol gestured for you to go next, his golden-crimson eyes scanning the area to make sure no one was watching. "Go on," he urged softly.

Why is he so sweet?! you thought, practically combusting on the spot. Trying not to overthink his protectiveness, you crouched and squeezed through the gap in the fence.

Leaves and twigs clung to your uniform as you emerged on the other side, brushing them off as Sol followed behind. The three of you maneuvered past bushes and shrubs, the crisp crunch of fallen leaves underfoot marking your escape. Finally, you reached the pavement on the other side of the grounds.

Sol stepped forward and held out a hand to help you up from where you crouched. You took it, your heart doing backflips at the gentle way he pulled you to your feet.

"So, what’s the plan?" you asked, glancing at Hyugo, who was already fumbling with his phone.

Hyugo’s eyes suddenly widened as he stared at the screen. His fingers flew across the screen in panic before he let out an overdramatic gasp and grabbed Sol’s shoulder in a vice-like grip.

"SHERLOCK HOLMES IS OUT?!" he practically screamed.

Sol winced, rubbing his ear. "My ears, Hyugo."

"The movie’s out?" you asked, raising a brow. Then, with a teasing smile, you added, "Did you set the date wrong again, Hyugo?"

"How could I?!" Hyugo shouted indignantly before bolting off at full speed, leaving you and Sol behind.

Sol pinched the bridge of his nose, his irritation bubbling just under the surface. "For the love of—" he muttered, hands on his hips. With a heavy sigh, he began walking after Hyugo.

You trailed alongside him, sneaking glances at his exasperated expression. Sol looked utterly defeated, like a parent chasing after their wayward child. It was hard not to laugh.

"Why are you smiling?" Sol asked, casting you a suspicious look.

You shrugged innocently, biting your lip to keep from laughing. "No reason."

He rolled his eyes but didn’t press further, the corners of his lips twitching upward despite himself.

Hyugo kept tapping furiously on his phone, but as his shoulders slumped, you realized it—he got the date wrong.

Shoving his phone back into his pocket, he turned to you and Sol with a dramatic sigh. Then, clasping his hands together, he pulled out the biggest pair of puppy-dog eyes you’d ever seen.

"We have got to watch it! Can we, Y/n? Can we, Sunny?" he pleaded, his voice bordering on a whine.

"I’ll pass," Sol replied, crossing his arms. "You can go enjoy the movie. I’m planning to hit the arcade while you’re at it."

Hyugo’s pout deepened, the sparkle in his baby-blue eyes dimming into a pitiful half-lidded stare. "Aw, come on. Don’t you like crime movies, Sol? Isn’t Sherlock right up your alley?"

You bit your tongue, realizing too late what you’d just said. That tidbit of information? You’d learned it from stalking Sol. The way his eyes flicked toward you with a mix of surprise and suspicion told you he’d noticed.

"Y/n’s right!" Hyugo exclaimed, unknowingly coming to your rescue. "You’re always watching those crime videos, so come on, it’s perfect! Let’s go see it!"

But Sol’s face was set, his disinterest plain as day. "I’m not in the mood for a movie right now," he said simply.

Hyugo groaned before turning his attention to you, desperation flashing in his eyes. "How about you, Y/n? Would you like to watch it with me? The ticket and food are on me, of course!"

You hesitated, glancing at Sol. His gaze was unwavering, almost expectant.

"I’ll stick with Sol," you said finally. "The arcade sounds like fun."

Hyugo raised an eyebrow before shrugging, his pout quickly replaced with a mischievous grin. "Alright, go on your little impromptu date, then! I don’t want to third-wheel anyway."

"Date!?" you sputtered, your face immediately heating up.

Sol rolled his eyes, looking unfazed. "You’re the one who decided we should skip class and do whatever we wanted," he said with a shrug.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it!" Hyugo waved dismissively. "I’m off to the theater, then. Don’t let me stop you two lovebirds!" He stuck out his tongue playfully before turning to leave, his laughter echoing as he jogged away.

Sol let out a long sigh, shaking his head. "He’s impossible," he muttered.

Meanwhile, you stood frozen, your cheeks burning. Date…?

Sol turned to you, ready to move on, but his gaze caught you fiddling nervously with your hair, fingers twisting the strands like they held some hidden secret. Your lips moved in barely audible whispers, your voice trembling.

"D-Date…? D-Date?! DATE?!?!"

Your face had turned such a deep crimson that Sol immediately furrowed his brows, stepping closer. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with genuine concern. Before you could react, his cool hand pressed against your burning forehead.

The sudden touch sent a jolt through your entire body, your nerves firing like a storm. You screeched, a mix of surprise and overwhelming emotion, and nearly stumbled backward.

"Y/n!" Sol exclaimed, his other hand darting out to steady you, but you quickly waved him off.

"I-I'm fine!" you stammered, your voice shaky. Your heart was pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it. The thought made you panic even more. You reached out, gripping his arm with both hands as if tethering yourself to reality, and pulled him closer.

"Let’s just get going!" you blurted, tugging on his arm as you started walking. Sol stumbled slightly but followed, his face tinged pink now. He didn’t say anything, and neither did you.

But inside, oh, inside was a very different story.

Your grip on his arm was firm, almost possessive. You could feel the fabric of his sleeve under your fingers, could feel the warmth of his skin beneath it. It was grounding, intoxicating even. His scent—a faint mix of lavender and something uniquely Sol—wrapped around you like a blanket.

Your mind churned with chaotic thoughts, obsessive and dark but cloaked in a sugary sweetness that made them feel almost...innocent.

He’s mine. No one else can touch him like this. No one else can make him blush like I can. Hyugo can call it a date all he wants—it’s not just that. It’s more. So much more. He’s perfect, isn’t he? Perfect and mine.

Your grip tightened slightly as you walked, but Sol didn’t seem to notice.

But what if someone tries to take him away?

The thought slithered in unbidden, souring your moment of happiness. You glanced at Sol from the corner of your eye. His calm, handsome face made your heart swell again, but the fear lingered.

You tugged him closer as you walked, your pace slightly faster now, as if putting distance between him and anyone who might come too close. Sol gave you a curious glance but didn’t pull away. If anything, he seemed content with the silence, his steps steady beside yours.

He didn’t know. He didn’t notice the way your thoughts spiraled, the way your mind painted scenarios of keeping him close, of ensuring no one ever got between you two.

No one ever would.

The bright neon lights of the arcade's exterior came into view, their vibrant hues reflecting off the wet pavement from an earlier drizzle. You paused for a moment to admire the sight, turning to Sol with a curious tilt of your head.

“Is this place new?” you asked, your tone a mix of wonder and excitement.

Sol, standing casually beside you, shook his head. “No,” he replied, his voice carrying a hint of his usual calm exasperation. “It’s hidden in the city. Hard to notice unless you know what you’re looking for.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And how do you know about places like this?”

Sol sighed, his annoyance barely masked. “Because Hyugo drags me to places like this all the time,” he muttered, his tone dry.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his expression, earning a small shrug from him. Without another word, he reached into his pocket and handed you a few tokens.

“So, which game are we starting with?” he asked, his crimson-and-orange eyes glinting faintly under the arcade’s colorful lights.

Your heart skipped at how effortlessly he seemed prepared. “Wow, you were ready for this, huh?”

Sol smirked slightly, his voice soft but teasing. “As always.”

Then, without thinking, he held out his hand toward you, not for the tokens, but for you to take. Your breath hitched, your heart thundering in your chest. Hesitating only for a moment, you placed your hand in his, feeling the warmth of his palm against yours.

Together, you stepped into the arcade, the cacophony of beeping machines, upbeat music, and excited chatter enveloping you both.

The two of you roamed the arcade, hopping from game to game. Sol was surprisingly skilled—his reflexes sharp, his focus unshakable—but you knew, you just knew, he was letting you win most of the time.

When you pointed it out, pouting, “It’s not fair—you keep letting me win,” Sol’s lips quirked into a faint smile.

“Maybe you’re just that good,” he said smoothly, his tone making your cheeks flush.

You playfully rolled your eyes. “You’re such a flatterer.”

But then, in the next few rounds, something shifted. Both of you started losing games—repeatedly. It didn’t take long to figure out why. Sol was purposefully holding back, trying to make sure you won, and you, in turn, were doing the exact same for him.

Neither of you said a word about it.

Instead, you both exchanged bashful glances, silently acknowledging the unspoken game within the game. The warmth spreading in your chest was undeniable.

Eventually, you found yourself at a claw machine, fishing out the last of your tokens to insert into the slot. The machine beeped in denial, signaling you were out.

“Hold on,” Sol said, already turning toward the token exchange counter. “I’ll grab some more.”

Before he left, he pressed the remainder of his tokens into your hand. “Use these in the meantime,” he said softly.

Your fingers closed around the tokens, and as he walked away, you couldn’t help but stare after him, your heart full. He’s so... thoughtful, you mused, biting back a smile.

You moved through the rows of arcade machines, the excitement of the games buzzing around you. Your eyes scanned each one, but then something caught your attention—a claw machine, with a plushie horse sitting inside. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you remembered Hyugo mentioning that Sol liked plushies, particularly ones shaped like horses. Perfect, you thought to yourself. This could be the perfect surprise for him.

You made your way to the claw machine, carefully inserting a token and adjusting the joystick with precision. Your eyes locked onto the horse plushie, and you steered the claw expertly, watching it descend and grab onto the toy. Your heart skipped a beat as the claw began to lift, bringing the horse towards the chute. Almost there…

But then—SMACK!

A sharp sound echoed in your ear as someone suddenly slapped your ass. You whipped around, fury bubbling up inside you as you glared at the man who reeked of alcohol, his breath sour and sloppy. The two men flanking him were equally obnoxious, their laughter cutting through the air.

"Hey, beautiful," the man slurred, his grin crooked and nasty. "You’re looking a bit lost. Let me show you how to play the game."

The words made your blood boil. You couldn’t stand these assholes, thinking they could just take what they wanted. Without hesitation, you spun around, your foot swinging up sharply and connecting with the man’s crotch.

"Ahh!" He groaned, doubling over in pain.

Without another word, you bolted, your heart pounding as adrenaline surged through your body. You dashed through the arcade, glancing back to see the drunken fools stumbling after you. The guy who'd slapped you shouted, his voice slurring but still full of aggression, "Don’t let them get away!"

The chase was on, but you weren't about to let them catch you. You rounded a corner, slipping through a gap between machines, and immediately dove into the crowd of people. You kept your head down, weaving through the arcade, trying to lose them in the maze of flashing lights and clinking tokens.

The sound of their footsteps was close behind, but you managed to stay one step ahead, your mind focused and determined. You didn’t know what they would do if they caught up to you, but you sure as hell weren’t going to find out..

You ran desperately, your heart hammering in your chest as you darted through the arcade, weaving through machines and crowds, but the clattering noise of the games drowned out your calls for help. The panic rose in your throat. Where the hell is Sol?

You kept running, your mind racing for a solution. Your fingers brushed the glass shards scattered near a broken machine, and your heart quickened with an idea. You grabbed one of the shards, feeling the sharp edge in your grip as you ran towards the restroom. Your legs burned, but you didn’t dare slow down. You had to get away from those bastards.

Slamming the door behind you, you locked it as best as you could. But just as you pulled out your phone, your fingers trembling, you cursed—no signal. The frustration and fear made your heart sink, and your anger boiled over. Shit, shit, shit...

You leaned against the wall, trying to steady your breath, but then the unmistakable sound of banging hit the door. They're coming.

And then it happened—the door slammed open with force, crashing into the wall. The man who'd slapped you earlier and his two buddies stood in the doorway, their grins sickening. They were too close, and you backed up instinctively, the glass shard tight in your hand.

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be, darling," one of them said with a slur in his voice, his smirk crooked. "All we want is a little favor."

Your anger flared up. A favor? You’re out of your fucking minds.

You swung the shard at the closest guy, the blade aimed for his neck. But before you could connect, one of the others kicked you in the stomach. The impact knocked the wind out of you, sending you crashing to the ground with a sharp gasp.

You tried to push yourself up, your body aching from the fall, but the man who had kicked you grabbed your arm, dragging you to your feet. "Come on, baby. You’re gonna make this easy on us, right? Be a good little pet."

The words were too much, the rage coursing through you. Pet? You’re gonna regret this.

You struggled, kicking out at the men, but your strength was fading, your body bruised and aching. With everything inside you, you fought back, pushing them away as best as you could. But your legs buckled from the pain, and you collapsed onto the cold floor. Desperation clouded your mind as you curled up instinctively to shield yourself, closing your eyes, hoping for anything.

Sol… please… The thought of him rushed into your mind, but the darkness surrounding you felt so suffocating.

"Hey, it's not a big deal."

You barely registered the words before you felt the force of the man's body jerked off of you, thrown aside like a ragdoll.

A sickening sound filled the room—the sound of flesh slamming against flesh, followed by another impact. The harsh noise made you flinch, your body trembling as you lay on the cold floor, the shards of glass still clutched in your hand.

"That's enough, Sol..." Hyugo's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding, but still there was an edge of worry underneath.

The sound of bones cracking echoed in the room, making your stomach churn. Is that...Sol?

"No," came Sol's voice, colder than ice, sharp with authority. "Not yet."

You couldn’t bring yourself to move, paralyzed with fear as the sounds of violence continued. Every punch from Sol, every crack of bone, made your heart beat faster—faster in a way you couldn’t quite explain. You should have been terrified, but part of you... part of you was strangely calm.

"That's enough, Sol! You broke his nose already!" Hyugo's voice raised, his usual calm demeanor cracking as he shouted at Sol.

But Sol didn’t stop. He was relentless, too consumed by whatever dark emotion controlled him in this moment. The thudding of his fists hitting the man reverberated in the small space, making you wince with each strike.

"Not yet." Sol’s voice was like ice again, his tone unmistakable.

Hyugo’s voice was tinged with panic now. "That's enough, Sol. Y/n needs your help."

Your heart skipped at the mention of your name. The icy grip of fear surrounding you melted for a split second as you opened your eyes, only to be met with the familiar sight of Sol’s intense gaze, his reddish-orange eyes wide with something between concern and fury.

He froze. His body stiffened, and for a moment, everything went silent.

The way he looked at you—the way he always looked at you—it wasn’t like anything else. It wasn’t just concern, nor was it just anger. His eyes softened for a brief moment, his pupils slightly dilated, his hands still clenched into fists, but now... it was like he was seeing you—really seeing you—through the chaos.

Sol kneeled beside you, his hand reaching out hesitantly. His fingers grazed your cheek, brushing away the tear that had fallen in the heat of the moment.

Sol quickly moved to your side, his eyes wide with shock, and without a word, he wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace. His shoulders shook as he held you, his chest rising and falling rapidly as though he were trying to control his own emotions. You didn’t speak—couldn’t speak. Everything was spinning, the sounds of the scuffle still echoing in your mind, but Sol’s warmth and the way he clung to you helped you focus.

The man who had threatened you now lay still on the ground, a pool of blood slowly spreading around him. His goons were scattered around the corner, unconscious and out of the fight. Your eyes flickered to Hyugo, but the look he gave you wasn’t the usual playful kindness. His gaze was hard, his jaw tense, his eyes twitching as he let out a long, annoyed sigh. The irritation was clear on his face, but there was a sense of worry beneath it, too, as he looked at the mess Sol had made.

Hyugo finally broke the silence, his voice unusually flat. "It's getting quite late. We should head home."

He tapped Sol’s shoulder, prompting the taller male to pull away from you. Sol hesitated for a moment, his face burying deeper into your neck as if he were reluctant to let go. It was only after a few seconds that he finally loosened his grip, his hands lingering on you as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to let you go completely.

"Y/n…" Sol whispered softly, his breath warm against your skin. His voice was rough, like he was fighting something deeper inside him. He pulled back slowly, not meeting your eyes but still close enough to you that you could feel the intensity of his presence.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his actions—of everything—press down on you. He had protected you... in his own way. But you didn’t know what to feel, didn’t know what to think.

Sol's eyes were bloodshot, his face flushed—whether from anger or worry, it was hard to tell. But what was evident was the silent pain he tried so hard to conceal. His emotions had broken free, and now, tears flowed freely down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry...I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have left you...I..." His voice wavered, hesitant, as he struggled to find the right words.

"Sol..." You spoke softly, gently reaching out to cup his cheek. He flinched at the touch, as if the comfort was too much to bear. The tears he had fought to hold back now poured down his face without restraint.

He relaxed after a moment, closing his eyes and leaning into your hand. He held it gently, as though he feared letting go.

"I don't know what I'd do if..." His words trailed off, the weight of his unspoken fears pressing down on him.

"It's okay... It's alright..." you reassured him, your voice calm, offering the quiet support he desperately needed. The atmosphere between you both felt heavy, yet there was an understanding, a sense of safety, in the silence that followed.

You held Sol's hands to your face, tears spilling freely from your eyes as the overwhelming emotions finally broke through. It was a short, breathless cry, but it was enough to shake you to the core. You felt his warmth, his presence grounding you as the fear and pain that had built up in you over time began to dissolve.

"Thank you... thank you, Sol..." you sobbed, your voice shaky. You almost flinched, not fully prepared for the rush of emotions, but before you could pull away, you pulled him into a tight hug. The weight of everything seemed to lift just a little as you pressed yourself into him, letting the sobs rack through your body.

Sol was frozen for a moment, shocked by the sudden outpouring. His body tensed, but then he slowly wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. His own tears continued to fall, soft and almost hesitant, as though he didn’t know what to do, but instinctively, he was there for you.

Hyugo stood nearby, watching the scene unfold. He was quiet, giving you both the space you needed. The tension that had hung between you and Sol seemed to ease as you held each other, though Sol's quiet sobs still lingered in the air. You could feel the raw emotion, the vulnerability between you, and it only made you hold on tighter.

the three of you stood there, the tension in the air thick and heavy, you felt the warmth of Hyugo’s hand slip into yours. His touch was gentle, yet firm, like he was trying to ground you in that moment, as if to reassure you that everything would be okay. But your eyes were on the plushie in his other hand— the horse plushie you had won for Sol earlier at the arcade. It seemed almost too perfect now, as if it were a symbol of everything that had happened, and everything that had changed.

You didn’t say anything about the plushie. You couldn’t. It felt strange to speak after everything, and it almost felt as if the words would break the fragile bubble that had formed between the three of you.

Sol, still lost in his guilt, stepped back. His gaze never quite met yours as he looked at the ground, a mix of regret and something deeper written across his face. His breath was shaky, his usual cool demeanor shattered. You could tell he was still processing everything, still fighting with the weight of his own emotions.

You were about to say something, Hyugo spoke up, his voice breaking the heavy silence. "It's getting dark now. We should head back," he said, his voice soft but insistent.

Sol’s hand, which had been loosely holding yours, suddenly tightened. You flinched slightly, surprised by how possessively he gripped you now. It wasn’t protective, not this time. It was as if he needed to hold onto you, as though afraid you might slip away if he didn’t.

You didn’t say anything in response. Instead, you let your fingers curl tighter around his hand, instinctively drawing closer to him. The need to stay near him, to feel his presence, was overwhelming.

Hyugo noticed, though he said nothing, his eyes glancing from you to Sol, as if understanding more than he let on.

Sol didn’t pull away, his grip on you more desperate now. His body was stiff, but you could feel the tremor in his hand. It was clear: Sol wasn’t just protecting you. He was holding onto you because he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.

Sol’s grip on your hand remained unrelenting, his knuckles white from the intensity with which he held you. It was clear he wasn’t about to let go anytime soon. Hyugo let out a long, frustrated sigh, his eyes scanning the surroundings before looking back at the two of you.

“I guess the arcade’s off-limits for a while,” Hyugo said with a hint of concern in his voice. “Those guys might come back, and we don’t need any more trouble.”

Sol’s grip tightened even more, a subtle growl in his voice as he spoke, “If they come back... I’ll give them more than just a broken nose.”

Hyugo chuckled nervously, his hands raised in mock surrender. “You're pretty scary when you’re like this, Sol.”

A dark smirk flickered on Sol’s lips, his gaze never leaving the ground as he muttered, “Good. I’d like to keep it that way.”

Hyugo shook his head, clearly trying to lighten the mood, but Sol wasn’t having it. He rummaged through his pockets, pulling something out before handing it to Sol. You couldn’t see what it was, but from the look on Sol’s face, it was clear he wasn’t pleased.

“I told you those don’t work anymore,” Sol grumbled, his eyes narrowing as he looked at whatever Hyugo had given him.

Hyugo rolled his eyes, looking unamused. “It’s because you’re not taking them, you fool. Now, take it tonight.”

Sol scowled, like a child being scolded, but he took the object from Hyugo’s hand with a reluctant sigh. He stuffed it into his pocket without a word, his expression darkening even further.

Sol slipped the small, plastic package into his pocket, the faint sound of the crinkling plastic reached your ears, and your heart skipped a beat. You tried to shake off the feeling, but your mind couldn’t help but race. The thought of the small pill container now hidden in his pocket lingered in your thoughts.

It must be sleeping pills for Sol...

You quickly glanced away, trying to push the unsettling thought out of your head, but it only made the darkness within you swirl more intensely. Sol... You knew him. His obsession, his need for control. You didn’t want to think it, but the idea that he could use those pills on you, to make you fall asleep so he could whisper his sweet nothings... That thought lingered in your mind, and you couldn’t deny the twisted thrill that sparked within you.

How cute, right? The thought of him being so controlling over you, his obsession so deep that he would go to such lengths to ensure you never left his side, even in sleep. But you knew better than to turn a blind eye. You couldn’t afford to.

You need to watch out for your food and drinks.

You swallowed the knot in your throat, the idea of Sol having complete power over you creeping up again. The way he was so gentle, so caring on the surface, but you knew better. You knew he wanted more, and you weren't sure how far he'd go to keep you close, to make you his. But it didn’t stop you.

You want to see all of his sides.

All of his SIDES

Your hand tightened around his, and despite the dark thoughts swirling in your mind, you kept your eyes on him, on every small movement. You couldn’t let it happen. You wouldn’t let it.

You consent to him, your body is HIS.

But that didn’t mean you wouldn’t watch him. Watch his every move, keep track of every little thing he did to you.

"Anyway, your place is just around the corner... You should head back as soon as possible. I'll be taking Y/n home," Hyugo said, his voice light as he tried to steer the situation.

Sol's eyes narrowed instantly, his grip shifting from holding your hand to wrapping his arm around you possessively. His gaze turned dark, a silent challenge in his eyes as he glared at Hyugo.

"I can walk them home," Sol's voice was low, almost a growl as he squeezed your waist tighter, pulling you closer to him.

You winced slightly at the pressure, a soft hiss escaping your lips, but you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of your mouth. The way Sol was acting, so protective, so obsessive—his possessiveness was palpable.

CUTE… CUTE… MINE... MINE...

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face, your eyes fluttering slightly as they softened, the world around you blurring into nothing but Sol’s grip, his possessiveness. Your gaze turned distant, pupils dilating, heart racing as you lost yourself in the intense focus of his touch.

His arm wrapped around your waist tighter, squeezing you closer to him, and you shivered, a rush of warmth flooding through your body. CUTE… CUTE… MINE… The words reverberated in your mind, the pull of them drawing you deeper into the madness. His obsession with you was so consuming, so perfect—and you wanted more.

You stared at him with hearts in your eyes, a twisted sense of euphoria blooming in your chest. Each second, each possessive gesture, it was like a drug. You didn’t care how dark it was—this was what you wanted. You didn’t need to escape, not when he was right there, keeping you his. His jealousy, his obsession—it was all a delicious game, a dance of power and control, and you were more than happy to play your part.

Hyugo noticed the shift in the air, his gaze flicking between you and Sol, his usual carefree expression replaced with a hint of concern, though the look didn’t quite reach his eyes. Sol, however, was unwavering. The two exchanged a look—a glare full of tension, but neither one was willing to back down.

And you? You could hardly contain yourself. Watching their interaction, feeling Sol’s arm tighten, the possessiveness pouring from him, you were drunk on it. You wanted him to tighten his grip even more. To show the world you were his, that no one else could touch you. You wanted him to break anyone who dared to even look at you wrong.

Your thoughts spiraled deeper, you couldn’t help but press yourself into Sol’s side, letting him hold you tighter, letting the dark satisfaction flow through you.

"I want Sol… to accompany me home. Hyugo, you must have something to do, right?" you said, your voice sweet yet laced with an undeniable finality. Both men froze at your words, their expressions shifting like ripples in a storm.

Hyugo's brows furrowed in visible disapproval, his baby-blue eyes narrowing as if searching for the logic in your decision. Meanwhile, Sol’s face transformed. His surprise melted into something smug, his lips curling into a self-satisfied smirk, Cocky as he slowly turned his head toward Hyugo, his crimson-and-orange eyes gleaming with an unsettling mixture of delight and triumph.

"You heard them, Hyugo," Sol began, his voice dripping with false sincerity, though his amusement was impossible to hide. "I can handle this. I can walk Y/n home. Y/n trusts me. I want you to trust me, too." He closed his eyes, tilting his head slightly, feigning an air of genuine concern. But you could feel the smugness radiating off him, his grip on you subtly tightening as if staking his claim.

Hyugo’s disbelief was palpable. His jaw tensed, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, veins bulging under the strain. The corner of his mouth twitched, but he said nothing for a moment, the silence between the three of you thick and charged.

Finally, Hyugo sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. "If that’s what you want, Y/n," he said, though his tone carried an edge of reluctant acceptance. "I can’t force you."

You gave him a soft, almost apologetic smile. "Don’t worry, Hyugo. I’m fine with however Sol is," you said, your voice gentle but deliberate. The words hung in the air, a quiet affirmation that twisted the tension into something sharper.

Hyugo’s eyes darkened for a brief moment, but he nodded. Without another word, he turned on his heel and began walking away, his footsteps heavy against the pavement. You and Sol stood together, watching his retreating figure grow smaller and smaller until he disappeared into the shadows.

The air shifted once Hyugo was gone, and you felt Sol’s smirk grow wider as he turned his gaze down to you, his hand slipping into yours, possessive and warm. His grip tightened just slightly, and your heart raced—not from fear, but from the intoxicating thrill of knowing you had chosen him.

Sol rubbed at the lingering redness in his eyes, his gaze shifting to meet yours. His voice was soft, almost vulnerable. "Why is he so bossy? Especially with you… I always thought he was the carefree type. Guess you really can’t judge a book by its cover. Funny… that’s something I tell myself all the time."

His words trailed off, his eyes flicking back to the empty path Hyugo had taken. His expression darkened for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. You knew what was running through his mind. Sol wasn’t just observant—he was obsessive, possessive. He knew more than he let on, always watching, always waiting. It should’ve scared you. Maybe, once, it had. But now…

You found it thrilling.

The knowledge of his fixation, his relentless need to keep you close, stirred something deep inside you. It wasn’t fear—it was desire. The darker, twisted part of you craved it, craved him. You loved the way he obsessed over you, the way his need for you bled into every little action. You wanted him closer, deeper—wrapped around you entirely.

There was no love. It was the love for his obesseion

As if sensing your thoughts, Sol’s hand found yours, his fingers curling tightly around them. His crimson-orange gaze softened as his lips curved into a boyish smile, a stark contrast to the shadows lingering in his eyes.

"What matters is that you’re here with me right now," he said, his voice filled with a strange, innocent warmth that tugged at something dark within you. "Shall we get going?"

That smile—so deceptively sweet, so utterly his—made your chest tighten. You reached out, your hand brushing through his hair in a soft, almost tender gesture. "Let’s go," you murmured, your voice carrying a faint edge of something you didn’t care to define.

Without waiting for a reply, you led him forward, your fingers still entwined with his as your other hand slipped to his arm, holding onto him as if anchoring him to you.

If he noticed the way your grip was a little too tight, your steps a little too deliberate, he didn’t say anything. Instead, his smirk lingered just long enough to let you know—he was just as lost in you as you were with him.

He doesn't know but you knew.

"Please excuse the mess," you said with a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of your head as you opened the door and gestured for Sol to enter. "I wasn’t expecting any visitors tonight, so it’s not exactly spotless."

"I don’t mind," Sol replied softly, stepping inside. Yet, once he crossed the threshold, he didn’t move any further, lingering near the door like a statue.

His stance was stiff, almost awkward. You tilted your head, watching him curiously. Why was he acting like he hadn’t been here countless times before, sneaking in and lurking in your shadows?

"Come on, don’t just stand there," you said, taking his hand gently but firmly, leading him to the living room. Sol followed, his hand warm in yours but his body still rigid. You guided him to the couch, nudging him to sit.

He hesitated for a moment before lowering himself onto the cushions. Placing the horse plush you’d won for him carefully on the table beside him, his crimson-orange gaze flicked toward you, unreadable.

"You don’t need to be so stiff, Sol. Relax! Make yourself at home," you said, your tone soft and teasing.

"…Sorry," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I’m just… not used to being in someone else’s space. Let alone their home."

Liar.

You bit back a knowing smile, folding your arms as you stared him down. Sol had probably been in every corner of your apartment at least once. When he stalks.

"Not even Hyugo’s?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sol shook his head silently, his gaze dropping to his hands. His knuckles were bruised, faint traces of blood still visible from earlier. Your heart clenched at the sight, and without thinking, you reached out to take his hand again.

"Stop that," you scolded, catching him flexing his fingers like he was testing their strength. "Wait here. I’ll get the medical kit. And don’t you dare make things worse by straining your fists!"

"You don’t have to do this," he said softly, almost regretfully. His voice carried a tinge of sadness, his eyes flicking up to meet yours.

"My house, my rules," you shot back, planting your hands on your hips. "And I insisted on treating your wounds. So sit tight, no arguments."

Sol didn’t argue. He sat there, his body still tense, but at your words, you noticed his shoulders ease just slightly.

"Stay here," you repeated, your tone gentler this time as you turned to grab the kit.

You rummaged through your cabinets until you found the medical kit, a bit dusty from lack of use. With it in hand, you returned to the living room, where Sol was sitting exactly as you’d left him—his gaze unwavering and fixed on the spot where you had disappeared.

"Hands," you said firmly, kneeling beside him as you opened the kit.

Sol gave you a pointed look, his crimson-orange eyes narrowing slightly. "You treat me like a dog sometimes," he grumbled, holding out his bruised hands reluctantly. "But fine. Here."

You giggled, unable to help yourself at his petulant tone. "Aww, poor Sol," you teased. "But it’s not my fault you obey like one."

His cheeks flushed instantly, a deep crimson spreading up to his ears. "Y-you’re ridiculous," he muttered, turning his head slightly to hide his embarrassment, but he didn’t pull his hands away.

"Sit still," you said softly, smiling as you began to work.

Step by step, you treated his wounds. First, you gently cleaned his knuckles with a damp cloth, wiping away the dried blood and dirt. His fingers twitched in your grip, and you glanced up to see him staring at you with an unreadable expression.

"Does it hurt?" you asked, your voice almost a whisper.

"No," he said quickly, his gaze darting away. But the way his hands tensed told a different story.

Next, you dabbed at the cuts with antiseptic. His breath hitched, but he didn’t complain, only biting his lip and watching you carefully.

"You’re doing so well," you murmured, the words slipping out unconsciously.

His eyes widened briefly before softening, his lips parting as if to say something. Instead, he just nodded, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Finally, you wrapped his knuckles in gauze, your fingers brushing against his skin as you secured the bandages. Every touch felt electric, and you swore you could feel his pulse quicken under your fingertips.

"There," you said, leaning back to admire your handiwork. "All done. See? That wasn’t so bad."

Sol flexed his fingers experimentally, then looked down at his bandaged hands. "…Thanks," he said softly, his voice carrying a weight of emotion that made your heart skip a beat.

You smiled, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of his face. "Anytime, Sol. You’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you?"

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the room felt impossibly still. "Always," he said, his voice low and earnest, his gaze unwavering.

Without thinking, as if guided by instinct rather than reason, you raised Sol's bandaged hand to your lips and pressed a soft kiss against the gauze. The motion was slow, deliberate, and almost reverent.

Sol's eyes widened in shock, his cheeks immediately flushing a deep crimson. He froze, utterly unprepared for the gesture. "W-what are you doing?" he stammered, his voice cracking slightly.

You smiled softly, letting his hand linger against your lips for a moment before lowering it. "Just showing my appreciation," you said.

His lips twitched, forming a pout as he glanced away, his ears burning red. "You need to stop treating me like a little kid," he mumbled, the sulkiness in his tone doing little to mask his embarrassment.

"Do you hate it?" you asked, tilting your head curiously, watching as his blush deepened.

He didn’t respond immediately. The pout on his lips faded into a silence that spoke volumes.

You chuckled softly, holding his hand against your cheek. His fingers twitched slightly, and you could feel the warmth of his skin even through the bandages. Your voice dropped to a soft, soothing murmur. "Thank you, Sol… for saving me back there. For being there when I needed you the most."

You leaned your face into his hand, closing your eyes briefly as if savoring his touch. "You were incredible," you whispered, your tone filled with admiration. "You’re always so strong, Sol. Always there to protect me. I don’t know what I’d do without you."

Your words were carefully chosen, each one designed to feed the storm of obsession you knew was brewing inside him. And oh, how he reacted.

His breath hitched audibly, his gaze fixated on you. His crimson-orange eyes were wide, shimmering with something between adoration and disbelief. His blush deepened further, spreading to his neck and ears.

"You… you mean that?" His voice was barely above a whisper, trembling slightly.

"Of course I do," you said softly, opening your eyes to meet his gaze. The way his face flushed, his lips parted as if he were about to say something, and the sheer awe in his expression—it was intoxicating.

He looked at you like you were the center of his universe, the very air he breathed. And you loved it.

He pulled his hand away slightly, but only to cup your face with both hands, his thumbs gently brushing your cheeks. His gaze burned with intensity now, his earlier shyness replaced by something darker, more consuming.

"I’ll always protect you," he murmured, his voice trembling with emotion. "No one will ever hurt you again… I won’t let them."

You smiled, leaning into his touch. "I know," you whispered. "I trust you, Sol. Completely."

The corners of his lips curved into a shaky smile, his eyes glimmering with devotion—and something even deeper, more dangerous.

You didn’t need to say it, but you both understood it:

You belonged to him, and he belonged to you.

You held Sol's hands against your face, your voice soft and trembling just enough to make it seem vulnerable. "You're the only one who's always been there for me, Sol," you murmured, letting your gaze lock onto his, wide-eyed and glimmering with sincerity. "When things get dark, when I'm scared, it's always you."

His breath caught in his throat, and his grip on your face grew firmer, as if anchoring himself to your words. His eyes were searching, desperate to believe every syllable that fell from your lips.

"I don’t know what I’d do without you," you continued, tilting your head slightly to nuzzle his palm, your voice just barely above a whisper.

The effect on him was immediate. Sol's entire body tensed, and a faint tremble ran through his fingers as he cupped your face. His eyes were swimming with emotions—guilt, adoration, obsession—all tangled together into something raw and overwhelming.

"Y/n…" His voice cracked, and he bit his lip, struggling to hold himself together.

You smiled sweetly, leaning forward just a fraction, your gaze never leaving his. "I don’t care what anyone else thinks or says. You’ve always been the one who understands me, who truly sees me. I feel safe with you, Sol... only you."

His reaction was everything you wanted. His eyes darkened, his pupils dilating as his breathing became uneven. His possessive grip returned, his fingers trembling slightly as if he was holding himself back from something primal.

But that wasn’t enough for you. His obsession was addictive, and you wanted to see more of it. To feel the heat of it consume you.

You let out a soft laugh, almost teasing, as your gaze dropped momentarily to his lips before meeting his eyes again. "You’re so good to me, Sol... so perfect. It’s almost unfair how much I need you."

His eyes widened, and his face flushed crimson. "N-need me?" he stammered, his voice trembling.

"Of course," you said, tilting your head and smiling like you’d just confessed a harmless secret. "Who else could it be? You’re the only one who’s ever truly been there for me. I can’t imagine trusting anyone else the way I trust you."

He swallowed hard, his hands twitching as if he wanted to pull you closer but wasn’t sure how much closer he could get without losing himself entirely.

And that’s when you saw it—the flicker of something darker in his eyes. A hunger, a desperate need to keep you as his, to prove he was the only one you needed.

Inside, you felt a surge of satisfaction. His reactions, his obsession, his love—it was all so deliciously intoxicating.

You leaned into his touch, your voice softening to a whisper, dripping with sweetness. "You’re all I need, Sol. Just you."

And as his trembling lips curled into a shaky smile, his eyes shining with devotion and possessiveness, you couldn’t help but think: Perfect.

You bit your lip, lowering your gaze just a fraction, feigning shyness. "I… I know it might sound silly, but after what happened, I… I don’t want to be alone. The idea of being around anyone else… guys, girls… it scares me."

You felt his hands tense against your skin.

"But with you?" You lifted your gaze to meet his, your eyes shining with unshed tears, perfectly calculated. "I feel safe. You're the only one I trust now, Sol. The only one."

He swallowed hard, his throat visibly bobbing, his expression torn between disbelief and overwhelming emotion.

"Sol… Can I… Can I stay near you from now on? Please?" You tilted your head, your voice trembling as if the thought of rejection might break you. "I just… I’m scared, Sol. Scared of everyone else after what happened. But I know you’d never let anything bad happen to me. Right?"

His face was a mixture of awe and something darker, almost feral, as if your words were wrapping around him like chains he didn’t want to escape.

"Of course," he managed, his voice thick with emotion. "You can stay close to me. Always. I won’t let anyone—anyone—hurt you again."

Your lips trembled into a small pout, and you reached up to clutch his hands tighter against your face. You tilted your head slightly, acting as though his words were an anchor for your frayed nerves.

"Thank you, Sol," you whispered, your voice breaking just the tiniest bit. "I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re so… so good to me."

He was utterly lost in your words, his gaze unfocused and dazed, the sheer depth of his emotions cracking through the careful control he tried to maintain.

You pouted, your tone softening further, almost as if you were the one being manipulated. "I’m sorry if I’m being a burden… but I just—"

"Never," he interrupted, his voice fierce. His hands slid down to hold yours, his grip firm but trembling. "You’re never a burden. Never say that again."

Your lips curled into a small, trembling smile, and you nodded.

"I only trust you," you whispered.

Sol pressed his hand over his heart, his voice soft but firm, he swore an oath, "Let me repay your kindness, Y/n... Let me take care of you."

For a moment, you thought he was about to declare his love for you, the words hanging heavy in the air, but his gaze shifted—soft and sincere, yet with a dark undertone that made your heart race. The way he said it, with such quiet conviction, made your insides twist with longing.

You opened your mouth, ready to dismiss the idea—I don’t need you to cook for me, you were about to say, but before you could, your stomach betrayed you.

It rumbled loudly, echoing in the quiet room. Your face immediately flushed with embarrassment, and you quickly raised your hands to your cheeks, hiding the red tint creeping up your skin.

Sol's eyes softened immediately, his lips curling into a smile as he gently reached for your hands, pulling them away from your face. His expression was so gentle, yet his eyes gleamed with that possessive, dark affection you knew all too well.

"Don't hide yourself from me, Y/n," he murmured, his voice low and tender as he gazed at you with that intoxicating intensity. "You don't have to be ashamed... you're perfect." His words hung in the air, thick with affection and something far deeper, a touch of madness lurking beneath the surface.

You couldn’t look away from his face, the overwhelming wave of love and obsession clouding your thoughts. Your heart hammered in your chest as your stomach growled once more, and you instinctively reached out to clutch your face, like you were posing in the way you’d seen in shows, but this was real, and he was here.

"Sol..." you whispered, your voice trembling slightly, "No cooking. You don’t have to do that."

But he didn’t listen. He wasn’t the type to back down when he had a plan.

He pouted, a playful, childlike expression crossing his features, and it made him look even more endearing—if that was even possible. "I want to, Y/n," he said softly, his voice now a low, adoring murmur. "Let me take care of you... let me make you happy."

His words, so sincere and desperate, sent a shiver through you.

With a final, tender glance at you, Sol turned and walked toward the kitchen. Each step he took seemed deliberate, as though he was placing himself further and further into your world, making himself indispensable.

You stood frozen, your eyes wide and heart heavy with a mixture of longing and something darker—an obsession of your own that mirrored his.

You blinked at Sol's grumpy face, his pout so endearing it nearly made you want to melt. He crossed his arms in that way that made him look both cute and frustratingly determined. "Alright, fine, I’ll cook for you."

He still looked a little upset, but his eyes softened slightly when you said it. "Okay," he mumbled, a slight pout still lingering on his lips. You smiled inwardly at how adorable he was when he tried to act tough, especially for you.

You both moved toward the kitchen, and you asked softly, "Anything you like? I can make whatever you want…"

Sol thought for a moment, his eyes flicking away, as if he were deliberating. Then, with a whisper barely audible, he said, "As long as it’s from you, Y/n…"

Your heart skipped a beat. His words were a quiet confession wrapped in a thread of possessiveness that sent a thrill through you. As long as it’s from me, he wanted nothing more than something made by your hands. The thought of him depending on you, wanting you in this way, made the dark thoughts swirl in your mind.

You felt the weight of the moment, suddenly aware of the kitchen, of what you were about to do. You hadn’t cooked for anyone before. Your mind raced as you stood in front of the sink. What the hell am I doing?

You were never the type to entertain guests. You were just a lonely little thing, someone who spent their time sketching, daydreaming, and obsessing over people like Sol. Did he really want this? Did he really want me to cook for him?

You felt the panic rising in your chest, but before you could overthink it any further, Sol stood up from the table, his movements casual but with a focused intensity. He began inspecting the cupboards, muttering under his breath.

"Your cupboards are pretty empty," he said, his tone casual but with a hint of concern. "No groceries?"

You shrugged slightly, not wanting to go into details. No groceries… no one to buy them for. "I’ve been busy," you said, your voice trailing off. You didn’t mention how you had been busy sketching his face, obsessing over him, imagining every detail of his being.

Sol gave you a questioning glance, but then he let it slide. His eyes scanned the shelves again, and then his gaze softened when he reached for something in the back.

"Not completely empty," he said with a small, amused smile. He pulled out a box of curry powder and handed it to you. "Here. You can use this."

Your heart fluttered, but it wasn’t just the fact that he had given you something to cook with—it was that he knew you hide that curry where exactly.

IM so sorry for dividing this next part will be last!

also, yes if it's not clear by now, Reader only likes his obsession on them than himself </3 i guess the talk abt crowe already made it clear

until next time

-ellie <3

[woso-dreamzzz]

Help

Hardersson x Teen!Reader

Summary: You're struggling a bit

*TW for eating disorder*

You didn't know when exactly it started but you knew it was here to stay.

"You not that hungry?" Millie asks as you sit down next to her for lunch.

Being the youngest member of the team had its perks and this definitely wasn't one of them. Everyone else got to choose where to sit for lunch while your older teammates made you sit with them.

You shrug. "Upset tummy."

It's not exactly a lie. Your stomach churned at the idea of having to eat a big meal (having to eat at all, actually) and it was uncomfortable. But it was uncomfortable not eating as well. You had hunger pangs almost every moment of your waking life.

Eat or not eat.

Pain or pain.

"Are you sick?" Millie asks, brow furrowed as she looks at you," You look a bit sickly."

You knew what she was talking about. You used to be able to control your eating well but you had spiralled recently. You felt ill even looking at the buffet earlier and you refused to even contemplate putting more than one thing on your plate.

It had been like this for weeks now and you knew everyone could see it.

Your skin had taken on a waxy pallor. Your nails had gone brittle and your hair was thinning at an alarming rate.

You hope that everyone just thinks you're sick. You push your food around with your fork before cutting it up into smaller pieces. You had a handle on this. You would get a handle on this.

"Bad night's sleep," You offer to Millie and she takes the bait, nodding like she understood what you were saying.

"Who had a bad night's sleep?" Your captain slid into the seat on your other side, with Pernille taking the seat on her right.

"y/n," Millie says," It's why she looks ill."

"You've been having a lot of those," Magda says, eyes narrowed as she watches you.

You try to be casual but with her and Pernille's eyes on you, you feel like you're under the microscope. You take a small bite of your food, trying not to wince when it tastes of nothing but ashes. You reach for your drink.

"It happens," You say diplomatically. You don't want to give anything away.

Magda and Pernille were protective of you anyway. You didn't want them to know this. They barely let you live on your own. You didn't want to be under their gaze all the time.

"Hmm," Magda hums, still looking at you and you load more food onto your fork.

You lift it up like you're about to eat before moving it back down onto your plate again.

"I heard that Emma's planning new drills. Is it true?"

Your question distracts Magda, who huffs and starts eating her own food. Her gaze is torn away from you as she mutters things under her breath.

You don't pick your fork back up.

Your hunger pangs worsen the more time goes on. You'd barely eaten lunch and you hadn't eaten breakfast either. You just tried to fill your stomach with water, leading to a semi-impressive feeling of bloating while also being able to feel it all slosh around in your belly.

Actually, now that you think about it as you run through drills and complete your sprints, you're not too sure when the last time you ate a full meal.

Did energy bars count as full meals?

Because you ate an energy bar during the break between drills.

Either way, it doesn't seem to be working now. Black spots appear in your vision and you have to stop moving so you can stay on your feet. You scratch at your neck, somehow feeling completely dehydrated even though you know that you had drank water not even five minutes ago.

"Hey." You don't even realise Pernille's holding your waist until she speaks. "Are you okay? You're swaying."

Her eyes look worried and you try to nod but it only makes you feel worse, more black spots appearing before you go almost completely limp.

"Okay," Pernille says softly even though she's panicking on the inside," Let's sit down, okay? We're just going to sit down."

But you don't have enough strength to sit down and you've lost consciousness almost the moment you touch the ground.

"Hey!" Pernille calls out," I'm going to need some medics!"

She checks your pulse even though she's got a feeling she already knows what's happened. Magda can be distracted but Pernille can't.

She's noticed your general wariness at lunch, the way you talk more than eat and how you play around with your food. She knows that you're not eating breakfast too just by the way you ate a cereal bar this morning.

You're sixteen so you're not exactly great at cooking either so Pernille's also sure that you're not eating well at home either.

She knew that she should have put her foot down when you moved from Vittsjö to Chelsea. She knew she should have made you move in with her and Magda.

"We need to get her inside," One of the medics say.

You're almost too light in Pernille's arms as she lifts you and carries you inside.

"Is she okay?" Magda runs over to join them.

"She's not been eating." Pernille feels confident in what she thinks. "So, no, Magda, she's not okay." She lays you down on the physio bed, running a hand through her hair in frustration. "I don't care what she says, she's not okay and she's not going home alone."

Magda's a little dense sometimes. "Who's she going home with? Is someone on the way?"

"Us, Magda. She's coming home with us and she'll be lucky if I ever let her out of my sight again. You've still got the spare bedroom made up, right?"

"Exactly as we left it," Magda says.

She looks down at you. You look much younger than your sixteen years as you rest on the bed. You've never passed out before to Magda's knowledge and your skin looks almost translucent as you lay there.

"She'll come around soon," The medic promises," Get her energy levels up and take her home. She needs rest." He glances around. "And I'll set up a meeting with the nutritionist for next week."

"I've got some trail mix in my bag," Magda offers," I'll grab some."

You come around slowly, blinking your eyes and squinting as you adjust to the light.

"Are you going to yell at me?"

"Why?" Pernille says," Have you done something that I need to yell at you for?"

She helps you sit up, jamming a water bottle between your lips so you can rehydrate before Magda dumps a bag of trail mix into your hands.

You hold it there.

"Eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"Eat," Your captain says firmly," We're not leaving until you've eaten at least half."

You have to fight to roll your eyes.

Fine, you'll play their game, nibbling on the nuts and fruit as you think of some topic to distract them both.

Only Magda doesn't let you speak.

"I don't want to hear any arguments," She says," You're staying with me and Pernille now. We've got your room ready and you'll be eating three square meals a day and snacks."

Your stomach drops. Your throat goes dry.

"What?"

Your mind works in overdrive as you try to come up with some way to make Magda change her mind. You end up deciding that the best course of action is pretending that it's all a joke.

"That's funny," You say," Is this a weekend thing or something? Because I have plans that I can't miss."

Magda's face hardens and you decide that looking at Pernille is obviously safer.

(It's not).

She looks equally as angry, if not more so than Magda. Her arms are crossed over her chest as she stares you down.

You're getting the distinct feeling that you're caught in a bear trap.

"You're a good kid," Pernille says finally as she watches you shovel trail mix into your mouth just so you had something to do," And you're so talented. I don't know what's going on but we're here to help you."

"Nothing's going on."

"There is," Pernille says firmly," And that's okay. We're going to help you."

You stand up quickly, too quickly perhaps because you wobble uncertainly on your feet and Magda has to guide you back to a sitting position.

But you still try to salvage your wounded pride.

"I'm fine. I don't need help."

"You do," Magda says," And I'm sorry that we didn't realise sooner."

"I..." Tears spill down your cheeks against your will. "I don't need help."

"We're going to help you anyway."

[elfyelation]

𝐢'𝐦 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 | oneshot

pairing—astarion x m!tav summary—when tav falls ill, everyone at camp is surprised to find that astarion is intent on staying by his side until he’s better warnings—illness, mention of poison, soft astarion, worried astarion, worried party, hurt/comfort, extensive use of pet names, super soft, extreme fluff word count—754 rating—teen note—this is entirely self-indulgent because i’ve been really ill this past week (thanks covid) and the whole time i was thinking about how astarion would comfort tav if he was hurt/sick so i came up with the idea for this

“How is he?” he asks and for what might be the first time, she can hear sincerity in his voice.

“Better,” the cleric sighed, “He’s getting better but he’ll still need some time to recover. You can sit with him but if I see those fangs of yours anywhere near him—”

Astarion rolled his eyes and folded his arms over his chest. "I assure you, Shadowheart, my intentions are far from what you seem to believe. I would never harm Tav. Surely that much has become clear to you by now?"

The sceptical half-elf hummed, “I suppose he will be safe enough for now. Even if your concern for him was a lie I doubt you’d want to risk sucking up any poison that might still be loitering in his veins.”

He knew she had every right to be distrusting of him, especially when it came to Tav’s safety. He only hoped one day they would all finally see just how much Tav really meant to him. That his feelings weren’t a lie. Until then, he’d have to make do with their concern over their friend and his questionable taste in partners.

“A… Astarion?” His weak voice croaked out the moment the vampire spawn ducked inside the tent.

Tav was laying on the blankets, his body completely sweat-ridden as his face contorted with discomfort. He was in still pain, still so vulnerable.

Astarion was by his side in an instant, his cold hands reaching out to gently touch his lover’s forehead. “Don’t worry, darling, I’m here. I’m right here.”

The cool touch of his hand was welcome as it immediately began to cool Tav’s fever. Gale had already expressed his suspicion that it would do as much. There certainly were at least a few perks of being undead.

“Let’s cool you down, shall we?” He wasted no time removing his shirt before crawling down beside his lover. One strong arm gently wrapped around Tav and pulled him closer, hoping that the coldness of his skin would help ease at least some of the pain.

Tav's laboured breaths finally began to slow as he nestled into the embrace, finding solace in the chill of Astarion's body. His fingers wrapped themselves around the cool arm around him, pulling it closer to his chest.

The vampire spawn chuckled against his ear. “Easy, little love, I’m not going anywhere.” His fingers traced delicate patterns on Tav's forehead, willing the fever to subside.

Outside the tent, Shadowheart kept a close eye on the pair and, in doing so, her initial scepticism gradually gave way to a begrudging acceptance of the vampire's genuine concern. She couldn't deny the tenderness she saw in Astarion's eyes as he cared for their companion. It was a side of him she hadn't seen before. A side of him she hadn’t even known was there.

Maybe it wasn’t just about self preservation or sexual desire. Just maybe he truly did care for Tav. She never thought love was something he was capable of but the longer she watched them, the more she realised just how wrong she had been.

Soon enough, his lover was sound asleep in his arms. Sleeping without a sign of pain or discomfort. It was the first time he’d slept properly since his affliction which meant Shadowheart was right, he was getting better.

“You know, you really scared me for a moment there. I… I thought I was going to lose you. I don’t want to go through that again.”

He spoke despite knowing there was no one to hear him. Speaking to a sleeping lover who, as if on instinct, rolled over to snuggle closer into him.

"I'll protect you with everything I have, my love," Astarion murmured, "I promise you that. You mean more to me than I ever thought possible." He knew that Tav couldn't hear him, but the words were as much for himself as they were for his lover.

Astarion had always been a creature of darkness, bound by instinct and desire. Forced to do his cynical master’s bidding. Yet, in Tav's presence, he had found a glimmer of something different, something more profound. It was a love he never thought he deserved, but now that he had it, he would do anything to defend it.

And so, beneath the starlit sky, Astarion held Tav close, vowing silently to cherish every moment they had together, determined to prove that his love was not just words but a promise to protect and endure, no matter the cost.

[stuffyflowers]

finally refined my amalgamate kanako take a little bit. was gonna annotate my thoughts on the image but i hate making compositions lol, so ill just talk below the cut in a semi-ramble. enjoy!

she is fused with a few other dunes monsters. when she woke up in the lab without her mother, i feel like she wouldve latched onto the most familiar looking monsters for some semblance of comfort and spent the most time with them before... everything went wrong. if you haven't guessed already, they are:

a dunebud (eyes)

a cactus monster (back spikes)

a monster of the same species as bryan (guy you give the hard hat to in the mines) (general long body, arms, slug-like tail)

(i would like to give each of them more defined individual personalities/names/etc at some point too, but i havent settled on anything yet. stay tuned for that if you want i guess)

much like how crystal (snowdrakes mum) seems to be the 'main' host in her amalgamate, kanako has the most control in this amalgamate (probably something to do with her having a stronger soul than most monsters). when this is the case, the left side of the face is visible and the left ear perks up. when one (or several) of the other monsters are fronting, this occurs for the right side instead.

for anyone who didnt know, the uty devs confirmed they intended for kanako to be the spoon amalgamate who tucks frisk in, which my take on her is inspired by. when she starts to lose memories of her old self as all the amalgamates do, she holds onto the faint memory of ceroba tucking her into bed. one of her daily routines in the lab is neatly making every bed until one of the others makes a mess of it, then rinse and repeat. again and again.

like how frisk helps the other amalgamates remember their old lives through acts, they help kanako remember her mother more clearly when they hop onto the bed, hence why she fondly pats their head as she can now remember ceroba doing after tucking her in every night.

the unfortunate side effect of her regaining a large chunk of her memory is that her guilt over 'failing' the experiment resurfaces, and she convinces herself that her mother wouldnt want to see her, even if they were ever allowed to go free. she ends up being the last amalgamate alphys reunites with their families, it takes a lot of convincing from her as well as the other parts of kanako that want to see their families to get her to leave the lab.

to keep it short, kanako and cerobas bond after the barrier breaks starts off a little rocky. ceroba is of course overjoyed kanako is alive, though it does take her a long while to get used to her being made up of three other monsters. they both still have feelings of immense guilt towards each other due to the incident that got them in this situation to begin with, which also takes a long time to smooth out. regardless, they are both doing their best to move forward and make the most of the second chances theyve both been given.

[bg-brainrot]

Failed Every Insight Check and Fell all the Harder (Astarion x GN!Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Companion piece to: Failed a Dex Save and Fell for You

Summary: After a few months of traveling together, Astarion has begun to experience some new feelings around you. After one fateful day in Moonrise Towers, he finally figures out what those feelings are.

Tags: Astarion POV, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Awkward Fluff, tw: mentions of astarion's past and all that comes with it, tw: mentions of araj scene, Feelings Realization, Jealousy

A/N: here comes the awkward, fluffy Astarion figuring out his feelings Valentine’s special. He’s a hot mess, of course. (happy Early Valentine’s because I will be busy on Valentine’s) And thanks to everyone who voted for this one!

Word count: ~4.8k

Ever since your group entered the Shadowlands, something has been bothering Astarion. He hadn't noticed at first– or rather, had tried his best to ignore it. But, as time goes on, he’s finding it more and more difficult to brush aside.

It had started out small. An odd pain in the pit of his stomach.

What was that? he'd thought, holding a hand to his abdomen in concern. Perhaps he was just hungry, but it certainly didn’t feel like the ever-present hunger in his belly. No, that was a dull, continuous ache. This? This felt like something was weighing him down. Maybe I’m ill. I shouldn’t mention it to anyone, lest Lae’zel slit my throat in my sleep.

Besides, the pain didn’t happen often. He noticed it a distinct few times.

Once, when you first entered the Shadowlands. He’d just watched you bend down, hands plucking at something off the side of the cursed lands’ road. He thought momentarily that he ought to stop you, that none of you knew what could be lurking in its magical darkness. But that tinge of worry was promptly replaced by that same gods awful pit in his stomach. 

Because there you were, presenting your party’s cleric with your spoils. You were gifting Shadowheart a night orchid– had remembered that she mentioned loving them. You bore the woman’s wretched joke with a smile. Disgusting, Astarion thought. No wonder my stomach feels uncomfortable, what a pathetic little exchange.

Like everything that had bothered him in the last couple of months since finding himself free of Cazador, he decided to forget the feeling. Life is his to take full advantage now, why let something like that affect him?

Or so he thought until the next time the feeling made its return.

You had just arrived at the Last Light Inn as a group, found shelter through the Harpers’ well-established safe haven. Astarion was quite happy to be rid of the shadows, content to cozy up in an inn. He figured, if he played his cards right, you may even let him partake in your blood or ask for a bit of fun.

Then your party found Dammon. Equipped with Infernal Iron and one blazing hot barbarian, Dammon made magic happen in a matter of moments. 

Astarion was glad. As much as the group was a bit much at times, he understood Karlach’s struggle with her body all too well. She deserved this small victory in reclaiming her body. 

His feelings of genuine sympathy were short-lived though because a moment later you were wrapping your arms around the tiefling’s body. It was a test, of course, to see if Dammon’s fusing had worked. But there it was again, the feeling in his stomach. This time it felt twice as heavy, a lead ball in his guts. Maybe I should let someone know, he thought. This can’t be good.

But the sensation was soon forgotten as your group settled into the Last Light Inn. Old allies were in some miserable new states– requiring even more help, gods– and new acquaintances were made. It was all rather dull for Astarion.

The one time Astarion perked up was when you went head-to-head with the head Harper. He chuckled under his breath when you outsmarted the old crone, Jaheira. That’s right, Harper. Don’t mess with my protector.

Your first night at the inn was capped off with a bit of revelry: a game of Truth or Dare. 

Astarion could sense your reluctance to play. You’d been acting odd all day, stiff and awkward around him. He saw this as the perfect opportunity to tease you to the high celestial plane– in fact, he already knew what he wanted to ask you. “You are going to regret this so much," he'd said to you from across the table.

Then the game began, and the deep, uncomfortable feeling never left his core.

Each and every companion received your attention throughout the game, in one way or another. Even that damned smith, Dammon, was given a dare from you. And Astarion just sat there, not even earning a glance, his mood growing more and more sour.

When, at last, he was able to taunt you with his question, you were far too in your cups to give a proper response. He sat on your lap, placed there from one of Shadowheart’s dares, staring into your surprised, open eyes, wishing that he'd thought of an easier question for an inebriated version of you.

The group had shooed you both out of the game upon seeing your state, though Astarion didn't mind. He'd much rather leave the lot of them and tease you by himself.

Once you were alone, you answered his question. That he, Astarion, was your favorite and for all manner of incredulous, unbelievable reasons. He’d expected you to say him. He’d asked to hear your praise, confirm your attachment in the name of his plan to seduce you. All the same he was left uncomfortable, juggling the sudden and unabashed flattery. Being praised for his looks was one thing but for being… himself?

The feeling in his stomach grew. Suddenly his lungs felt it, his undead heart felt it. What in the sweet hells is the matter with me? he thought, as he helped lay your drunken, passed out form to bed later that night. He hadn’t felt a sensation like this before– he hated it. 

Then you reached out to him in your sleep, and he froze. Something about the touch quietened the pain under his ribs, and so he extended his fingers, gently touching your brow as you fell asleep. See? I’m fine, he assured himself. I truly am just ravenous.

__

He continued this way for several days in the Shadowcursed lands.

One moment, he was perfectly fine, hacking and slashing at a Shambling Mound with abandon. The next, he would look over at you, see you laughing at something Karlach said, and it felt like an iron ingot had made its way into his insides.

Damned tiefling woman. I’m far funnier than her, you know, he thinks, resheathing his knives with a little too much gusto. The sound of your laughter rang in his head for the rest of the evening, as if he were being driven to insanity by it.

The next day, you had fought a horde of Meazels. At first, Astarion thought the fight was delightful fun– the tiefling woman and the cleric kept getting teleported against their will and after his recent annoyance with both of them, he found it quite amusing. That is, until you found yourself garrotted, teleported as far away from him as possible.

He was on you in mere moments, ripping the creature off of you with his blades. It was almost as if he’d reacted instinctively and, as someone whose instincts typically led him away from danger, he found the sensation quite off-putting. Nevertheless, he'd freed you, asking, “Are you alright, darling?”

Astarion couldn’t remember what you’d even said because once he saw the marks the creatures left on you, the pit in his stomach dropped. Where there had been a heavy pressure before, there was now a sharp feeling. His eyes carefully trailed over your injuries, trying his best to focus on you and not the phantom pain building inside him.

You had been fine, nothing that a quick heal from Shadowheart couldn’t fix, but that feeling stayed in his stomach the rest of the day. It’s simply the Shadowlands, he'd thought. They not only play tricks on the mind, clearly they’re playing tricks on my body.

It was a few days later, as you helped the Harper’s deal with their lantern problem that the sensation shifted again.

Astarion watched, eyes glued to your form, as you dispatched the hideous drider, your twin blades piercing the creature in its most vulnerable spots. He’d seen you kill many monsters before, hundreds likely at this point. But something about the way your body moved in the Moonlantern’s glow, the way your face lit up as the creature’s body crumpled to the floor, caused the vampire to stop and watch.

This time, he’d felt the heavy sensation move up, somewhere just below his throat. He tried against all odds to gulp it away, but nothing seemed to work. We need to finish our business here and get out as soon as possible, he thought now, convinced it was the shadows warping his senses…

But as your travel continues, the feelings never go away. 

It’s a different pressure, it builds, it ebbs, it flows between his heart, his stomach, his torso– and each time he brushes it off. Stewing in these uncomfortable feelings, Astarion spends the week in a hazy mire, not unlike the shadows that surround you all.

Then your group finally infiltrates Moonrise.

__

Moonrise Towers, the seat of the Absolute and a once grand fortress. 

Now, Astarion can’t help but think it seems rather underutilized. Your group is walking along the empty parapets outside, which are woefully missing any sense of grandeur or ornamentation. “Darling,” he says, leaning into you slightly. “Don’t you think we ought to just kill everyone now and take the place for ourselves. Might be quite fun.”

You bark out a laugh, which he feels proud to have produced, and reply, “Maybe later. This is an infiltration mission only. Besides, once we defeat the Absolute, I’m sure there will be a vacancy.”

Astarion laughs back at you. Gods, he enjoys this. The way that he can say something that others would balk at and you will miraculously not only appreciate it, but also play along with it. Having fun with them is so easy, he thinks. And look, I’m still wearing all of my clothes! What a novel idea.

The thought is cut short when your group walks through an outside doorway into a room that can only be described as grotesque. Whoever works here clearly has some knowledge of arcana, if the ingredients and alchemical tools are anything to go by, but it smells utterly foul to Astarion.

It’s when you spot the drow woman hunched over a table in the corner that he realizes where the stench is coming from. Hells below, that woman reeks of something truly awful, he thinks, recoiling. He’d grown used to following behind you closely, but as you step forward to speak to the woman, he finds himself taking a step back instead.

The woman introduces herself as Araj Oblodra, a trader of blood– a rather poor trader, by the smell of it. She takes note of Astarion, who shuffles back instinctively, before you and her go about some kind of business with your blood. Astarion contemplates speaking up, shooing you away from her, but decides to stay back, as far away as he can remain without arousing suspicion. They can handle themselves.

Then, after the woman looks back toward him one too many times, he hears you snap, “And why are you so interested in my pale friend?” 

“Ah, yes. Perhaps there’s one more thing we could discuss,” she begins, her voice a dangerous drawl. “He’s a vampire, no? Or one of their spawn at least.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Astarion says, all-too-ready to fill his role. “We’re all friends under the Absolute. I won’t bite.”

“Oh, I’d prefer if you did,” she’s quick to respond. Her eagerness picks at Astarion’s nerves, and he raises an eyebrow at her. Araj doesn’t deign to give him another moment’s look though, as she turns back to you. “I assume he belongs to you?”

“Excuse me?” Your voice sounds offended– on his behalf, Astarion wonders? “He’s his own person.” Your words cause the feeling in Astarion’s stomach to flip, and, as much as he wants to come to his own defense, he finds himself quite content to hear you do it for him.

“I’m sure he really believes that. How utterly adorable,” she says with a snide chuckle. 

Adorable? he thinks, but he’s unable to interject before the woman continues to barrel forward.

The blood trader turns back to Astarion, face wrinkled with distaste as her tone changes to something a bit more confrontational, “Do you have a name, spawn?”

Her sudden shift in attitude, the proud tilt to her head, it all throws the vampire off balance as he goes to answer, “Astarion, b-but hold on!” Astarion holds up a hand to try to slow this woman’s tirade, all to no avail.

“Good. Now, Astarion, I’ve dreamt of being bitten by a vampire since I was a young girl,” Araj begins, laying out the scene for her request.

Too bad that the scene sounds quite ridiculous to Astarion. Surely he heard her incorrectly? “I’m sorry, you want to be bitten?”

The woman goes on a new insane diatribe– something about dancing with death– but Astarion can hardly be bothered. All he needs to know is that she’s offering some measly potion for being bitten and, gods, does he not want to bite this woman’s disgusting neck. Or wrist. Or really any part of her. “I will have to decline,” he says, with a gracious little bow. Your group is still infiltrating the towers, it wouldn’t do to tell Araj exactly how horrid she smells.

It’s entirely more grace than she deserved, that much is clear because she presses him again. Again, he refuses. “I gave you my answer.”

The drow scoffs, turning back to you once more, “Can’t you talk some sense into your obstinate charge?”

You, for your part, look confused. There’s a line of concern in your forehead as you look between the woman and Astarion, wondering what it is that you’re missing. “I’m surprised, Astarion. I thought you’d enjoy an opportunity like this.”

What?! he thinks, a sudden, sharp spike of anger shooting through him. He tempers his immediate rage and speaks to Araj with that same, false pleasantry she doesn’t deserve, “I’m sorry, but could you excuse us a moment?”

Astarion, not waiting for her response, pulls you aside, away from the drow’s nosy eyes and ears. Once you’re alone, he turns to you, his voice a hiss, “Are you actually asking me to do this? Trading me for some-some-some potion?”

“What’s the matter? Why would she be different from any other enemy?” you ask, leaning toward him.

Your voice is full of genuine worry, and some of his anger abates as he meets your eyes. Of course, they don’t know what they’re asking. How could they know? “Because there’s something wrong with her blood. I can smell it from here. Ugh, it’s rank.”

Now your brows furrow, and a sharp edge enters your eyes as you ask your next question, “What do you mean? What’s wrong with her blood?”

“I can’t say. It just smells… wrong. Unnatural.” His words sound pathetic to his own ears. 

Of course that’s not an excuse, Astarion laments. What am I even thinking? The potion is clearly useful. They are going to make me do this, and I may as well prepare myself. I’ve put up with worse after all.

So, he stands straight once more, ready to put on the performance of a lifetime. His tone takes on a resigned tone as he continues, “Drinking it wouldn’t kill me, but it would not be pleasant.”

You both hear a sigh from behind you. “I don’t have all day, True Soul,” Araj calls, impatiently.

Your eyes remain focused entirely on him, ignoring the woman’s irritated sigh, her entitled words. “Astarion,” you begin, and he takes a breath in preparation for your other foot to drop. “Don’t do anything you don’t want to do. And if she refuses to take no for an answer again, we’ll simply have to start our assault on the towers a bit early.”

The breath leaves him.

"Alright. Uh, thank you,” he says, feeling the tension drop from his shoulders. He’d been prepared to acquiesce, to do exactly what you’d asked of him. But this? This is something he hadn’t been prepared for. 

In a daze, Astarion makes his way back to Araj, putting on as polite of a facade as he’s still capable of making, “It's still a ‘no’, I’m afraid.”

“How very disappointing,” the blood trader says, shooting you both a disgusted look. She turns away in a huff, leaving your group alone to recover from the exchange. And leaving Astarion floundering in another new sensation.

Because once more, the feeling in the pit of his stomach has reared its ugly head– only this time it shoots through him like a bolt of lightning. He's not sure what it is, but it's stunned him into slipping off his carefully crafted mask. He turns to you once more, voice soft around its usual edges, "Thank you. I… appreciated that.”

"You have no need to thank me. It was always your choice, Astarion."

Huh.

The feeling sinks into him, settling deeper and deeper as you continue through Moonrise.

__

That night, you go to bed in your own bedroll, leaving Astarion to his meditations with a smile and a wave. It has been a long day for all of you, and it's clear from the way you take a glance back that you're worried about him.

Gods, he's worried about him.

After dealing with that vile drow woman, you'd all continued about the tower, ingratiating yourselves with even the most repugnant of creatures to appear faithful to the Absolute. But Astarion paid attention to almost none of it.

He'd stabbed when you told him it was time to stab, he'd joined your side when you called him to you, but his mind had been wholly preoccupied.

They didn't make me do it, he'd thought, as he unlocked some chest.

Well, isn't this exactly what I wanted? he'd thought, following you down some stairs.

Clearly they just fell for my charms, my masterful seduction, he'd thought, flanking a prison guard for you.

So why do I feel like this? he'd thought, staring at your back as you led the way before him.

Now, he lays here in his tent, staring at the fold of its ceiling in a rapt fascination he doesn't feel. The feeling in his stomach has stayed all day, tethering him to his thoughts with its continuous pressure.

When did I get to the point where I would follow them anywhere? Is their lack of self-preservation contagious? he asks himself, eyes narrowing in frustration. I shouldn't have gone into that horrendous tower in the first place. Then I wouldn't feel like this.

But he had.

And you'd not forced him to do so.

You'd not forced him to do anything.

They're a fool, an utter fool. I could have bitten that drow, as easy as breathing, he thinks, rolling his eyes at the thought. Close your eyes and push through, that's what I always say.

But did you want to? something in the back of his mind asks. 

Of course not, but when has what I wanted ever mattered– 

It may not have mattered under Cazador's grip, but it has always mattered to you. You're nothing like that evil man. You'd always been there for him, had managed to find trust in your heart for him, and had been genuinely kind to him.

The now-familiar feeling in his stomach seems to spread to the rest of his body, a warmth that doesn't quite feel warm. It bleeds all the way to his face and his lips curl up into an involuntary smile at the thought of you.

You– you, who had only ever been meant to play a bit role in the tragedy that is Astarion’s life. You, who had transcended your part, leaving Astarion contemplating every aspect of you in the stark solitude of his tent. 

Your beauty when you're covered in blood after a battle, the mischievous glint in your eye when you're teaching a child a sleight of hand trick– even when anger pulls your brows together and you're yelling at him for saying something particularly naughty. Each and every one makes his smile grow wider.

You, his chosen protector, are so much more than just that.

They are incredible. The thought comes to him unprompted, truly as easy as breathing.

His eyes widen in alarm, staring blankly at the tent above him.

The feeling in the pit of his stomach wasn’t an illness. Nor was it hunger. No. It was guilt. It was jealousy. It was…

Oh fuck, Astarion curses to himself. Am I in love?

Now that he has a word to the sensation, that the feeling is in his grasp, he knows he's right. He doesn't have a lot of experience with love, if any– he'd never had the luxury under Cazador's cruel gaze and he can't recall much from before that– but he knows he's right.

And hells does he wish he could crush the feeling in his hands right here and now.

Gods, you complete and utter imbecile, he thinks, hitting his head against the floor. You have things to do, goals to accomplish. They were only supposed to be a means to those goals, not a – a–

Astarion’s mind blanks as he thinks of you again, your charm, your wit, your damnable caring.

Not a companion. Not a friend. Not a lover. When did those late night trysts turn from an obligation, a part of his simple, perfect plan, into something more?

Even now, as he thinks of those nights, he brings a hand to his lips, recalling a night where you had simply stayed in his bedroll. You had kept all of your clothes on, as had he, and simply held each other as you fell asleep. Their kiss that night was delectable, he recalls, tracing the line of his lips, as if he could still feel the ghost of yours on them.

Fuck, he thinks again, dropping his hand in frustration. How could I have been so blind? How did I not nip this in the bud before it got to this disgusting pining?

But he hasn’t nipped it in the bud. The feeling has grown, unfettered, quick as a druidic plant growth, all unbeknownst to him. It has been nurtured by your attention. It has been watered by your kindness. It has become unruly in the safety of your arms.

Now what? he thinks to himself bitterly, wiping a hand across his face with a sigh. What use are these feelings when everything they were built upon is a lie? You are, after all, still playing the role he set out for you.

He considers overlooking the feelings, just as he has inadvertently done in his ignorance. It wouldn’t be of any use to tell you, of course. You could hardly feel the same way about him as he does you, and he’d rather not add another nuisance in the fight against the Absolute.

Besides, if he told you, he would have to fess up, explain his entire plan to you. What would even be left of the two of you after that?

But, he thinks to himself. Let’s say I did tell them. What could they possibly say…

“I was pretending all along too.” – gods, that would break him. That much is all too apparent from the way his undead heart aches at the thought, with a pain he couldn’t possibly feel.

“I like you, but not like that.” – maybe this was worse. Actually, it was definitely worse. He may never recover. His ego would certainly never recover.

“I have someone else that I love.” – honestly, reasonable. What did he have to offer you after all? A bloodthirsty master and the occasional snarky comment? He wouldn’t be surprised to find you in Karlach’s tent at this very moment…

“I hate you.” – he might be able to take this the best. You should hate him. He’d done nothing but lie and manipulate his way into your bedroll. Hate, well, that he understood.

“I love you, but…” – every single 'but' cut like a different, jagged blade. But we’re in danger every day? An excuse, surely. But you come with too much baggage? True, but not something he would be able to resolve. But I don’t want to be with a monster? Again, reasonable, but out of his control.

Astarion runs through scenario after scenario, each one playing with his own emotions in a new and horrendous way. In the end, he all but slaps himself out of it.

No, I cannot tell them. I absolutely must take this to my second grave, he determines, shaking the thoughts away with a few hard blinks.

But the feeling in his chest is more persistent than ever. As if giving it a name and meaning has given it a new, annoying life. He laments to himself aloud, "I may never feel like myself again.”

If this is what love does to a person, he wants no part of it.

__

The vampire didn't have a restful night's reverie, that much is apparent. His mood is foul, his body tense, and his eyes are trying their damnedest to avoid yours. 

No way, he thinks as you all set off for the day. I spun myself into a frenzy last night. Clearly. I feel absolutely nothing–

Then you turn back to him, concern lining your eyes as you address him. What had you just said? He had found himself somehow lost in your eyes, your lips, the turn of your nose… 

Shit, he thinks to himself. No, get back in control. You have only just reclaimed yourself, you can't lose yourself to something as cruel as love.

But, try as he might, his eyes can’t avoid you. 

All morning, he continues to sneak glances your way. Despite his roguish nature, he finds hiding his stares to be impossible. After all, you are the group’s leader. You are at the front, you are at his side, gods, you are everywhere. This feels like some kind of divine punishment…

You catch him looking, of course. And each time, he curses himself, gods, you idiot. You may as well broadcast your feelings to the world. And hells, how long have you felt this way?

Astarion tries futilely to act normal. This is just another day with the group in the Shadowlands. He’s not thinking about holding your hand in his. He’s not thinking about the way you look when you sleep. And, above all else, he is not thinking of your lips or the way that they move when you say his name.

Despite his inner turmoil, the world moves on. You lead the group through the Mason’s Guild, and you all manage to clear the place out easily enough.

The vampire thinks he’s finally reaching some sort of peace. Yes, this routine work he can do. No problem at all.

Then, you say something kind to Karlach, that infernally charming woman, who continues to support you at your side. Who, for all intents and purposes, should be the person who warms your bedroll at night, now that you can touch her. Not him, the man who can only make your bedroll colder. Who, even now, is avoiding your every glance.

Oh hells, he thinks, face dropping. The realization that he’s right is too much for him to bear.

Astarion stalks off, annoyed at himself and his thoughts, needing a moment to recollect himself. I can do this, he thinks. I can do this. I can–

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath once he knows he’s alone. “You’re supposed to get over this, you stupid fool. Shit. Gods dammit.”

He hears your familiar footfalls approaching and freezes, his shoulders tense with anticipation.

You find him in a pool of shadows away from the others, and he can’t help but feel like a beast that’s been cornered. He’s certain his face reflects that, reflects every bit of emotion he’s feeling as plain as could be, but your patience with him has apparently worn thin for the day. Your voice is less kind than usual when you say, “Do you need to talk?”

Seeing the anger in your face, the way that your hands are placed on your hips in annoyance, he knows he can’t keep his feelings to himself. He’ll only continue to push you away, into the strong, red arms of another.

No, he thinks, in a panic. I should– I need to–

He needs to do something about his feelings, unwanted or not. Really, he needs to tell you, regardless of what your response may be. If not, he may regret it for the rest of his undying life.

Now that he is in control of his own choices, he supposes that means all of them, for better or worse. That means even the most difficult ones. This is one of those difficult ones, isn’t it?

So Astarion swallows his pride, his anxieties, his insecurities, and settles his fate.

“Later,” he says, barely getting the words out. He blinks, and tries again, pleading with you with his eyes, “Please, just come by my tent later.”

Later, I will tell them. Everything.

[mydear-corinthian]

love potion no. 9

sypnosis - attempting to make doctor jonathan crane be in love with you using your love potion

pairing - jonathan crane x reader (pharmacist!)

warnings - SMUT +18, p in v, fingering, creampie, jealousy, reader attempting to poison crane

notes - rushed & based of my fav song, divider by cafekitsune

main masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist

You've been working as the hospital's pharmacist for a while now. The experience was a fifty-fifty. How strange to work under the walls where high-profile criminals are admitted in the city of Gotham.

One day, while you were working on your regular evening shift, a tall man wearing rectangular glasses and a black suit let out a small cough as he approached the window of the pharmacy's counter. Setting your pen down, you looked at this man. Your gaze met his blue eyes. You noticed how his hair was neatly styled.

There was a moment of silence before you brushed up your thoughts. "Can I help you with anything, sir?"

"I'm here to get the prescription I need."

"And what's your name, sir?"

"Doctor Jonathan Crane."

Your eyes widened, and the pen in your fingers dropped as you heard the name.

That's Jonathan fucking Crane?

He looked younger than you expected to be. You thought that the head psychologist was old so he's the only psychologist in the asylum allowed to prescribe medication.

"I— Please give me a few seconds to find it, Doctor Crane," you stuttered, immediately standing up and wengoing the back of the cashier to where all the anti-depressants and anti-psychotic medicines were stored.

"Hurry up. I don't have enough time to wait," he replied, rolling his eyes out of irritation.

After a few minutes, you finally saw a brown paper bag with his name on it. You immediately grabbed it and then stapled it to ensure that the medicines were safely secured. You walked up to the desk, placing the paper box on top of it in front of Jonathan.

"Thank you," he said, looking at the metallic nameplate on your uniform. "Miss (L/n)."

After that first interaction, he has been meeting you up again in the pharmacy. Taking his usual prescription medicines. After a few more visits, he started to make a few more chats rather than greetings. Asking you how you were, when's your schedule, etc.,

During those visits, you cannot help but feel something. The way you blush every time he compliments you. The way his delicate fingers meet yours when you give him the medicines. Or the way how he just looks fucking good.

One day, you waited for Jonathan to grab his prescription, so you waited. It's been a few hours and no Doctor Crane appeared. Taking a deep sigh, you continued to do your inventory as you waited for him to come.

After a few hours of waiting, a woman knocks on the glass of the pharmacy's counter. You greeted, letting out a soft smile despite being sad for not seeing the psychologist yet.

"May I help you, ma'am?" you asked.

"I'm here to get Doctor Crane's prescription."

Your ears perked up as you heard his name. Your back stiffens as your eyes widen. Why is she here? Why isn't Jonathan here?

"I'm sorry, ma'am; who are you?" you asked in confusion. "I'm sure Doctor Crane doesn't want his prescription medicines to be taken."

The women laughed at your question and your eyebrows met together.

"Oh, I'm his assistant, silly. Maybe his soon-to-be girlfriend? Not sure yet."

What?

Your stomach churned. A mix of sadness and anger rolled up your mind. You didn't know that Jonathan was interested in anyone. You thought that you would have a chance with him. You felt ill.

You stormed out right away, grabbing the papaer box with his name on it. Putting it in front of her harshly.

Forcing on a smile, you said, "Here's the prescription, ma'am."

"Thank you." the woman replied, grabbing the paper box before walking away.

Jealousy is buried all over your body. Bur you cannot help but feel insecure. She was indeed pretty. For sure Jonathan likes her too.

But you also felt mostly anger and jealousy.

As soon as your shift ended, you hurriedly grabbed your bag and went straight to your small apartment. Turning the doorknob, you entered your apartment and removed your shoe. Grabbing a pen and paper from your cabinet, you wrote different formulas for making something for him.

A love potion.

It does sound silly but you were so obsessed with him and you want him that badly. You felt like he was yours and you were his.

The remaining days stayed the same. The same woman grabbed Jonathan's medicines. The same anger and jealousy never left you. You continued in your potion, grabbing all the hallucinogens that you needed from the rmaprimacyou will spend your night making it.

After a week, you finally finished creating the spray. You choose to make the smell the same as your perfume; to let him know that he is yours.

Arriving at the Asylum, you set your bag behind your chair as you start to do your work. There were a lot of customers that day so you kept yourself occupied.

Finally, his assistant arrived.

She approached the glass with the same cheeky smile. "Jonathan's prescription, please."

Fuck, are they in the first-name business now?

Straightening your back, you said, "I think I'll give it to Doctor Crane myself."

The assistant's head turned to your direction with a face in disbelief. She placed her phone down.

"Why?" she asked.

"Doctor Crane requested a new medicine and it contains rare chemicals and it needs to be taken care of properly. This is the last medicine in our inventory so I suggest I'll be the one to give it to him." you lied.

"Fine. I don't care with whatever medicine he wants anyway. Your pharmacists can take catfish that. I'll just go take a quick dinner break, anyways." she replied, rolling her eyes before she walked away while busy typing on her phone.

As she walked away, you let out a sigh of relief. You grabbed the paper box at the back and then the spray you placed on a small glass sprayer in your bag, hiding it in your pocket.

"Hey, Adeline, I'll just give this medicine to Doctor Crane; he requested it," you said, showing him the paper box with his name.

"Yeah sure, no problem. I'll cover the cashier for you." your friend replied.

Letting out a 'thank you', you exited the pharmacy. You didn't know where his clinic was so you tried finding his name on the big board on the entrance of the hospital that was filled with all the doctors and their clinic rooms in the Asylum. You got up the elevator and pressed the buttons. You're confident with this. You checked the formula all over again and gave you the same result but you cannot help but feel how your heartbeat thumped aggressively.

It will work.

You went out as soon as the elevator doors opened. The whole floor was quiet and there were only a few people there, mainly janitors cleaning up. You walked while looking at the small paper in your hand where you wrote his room number.

You stopped your tracks as soon as you saw his name on a sign on a black door.

Dr. Jonathan Crane, M.D, Psy.D, J. Crim. Psychol.

Letting out a deep breath, your fingers opened the door. The entrance was small. A long cushion was on the right while the assistant/secretary's table was on the left— which was empty. There was another door in front of you, which you think is his office.

You knocked three times on the door, fixing your uniform and your hair. You gripped your pocket tightly, securing it.

Your eyes met him as he opened the door. His outfit looked the same. His hairstyles led properly. His rectangular glasses shined. Jonathan's eyes then met yours.

"(Y/n)? What are you doing here?" he asked, not closing the door.

Fuck, he looks hot.

"I— I'm here for the prescription you needed, Doctor Crane," you replied, handing out the paper box with his name on your hand. "Your.. secretary said that she was busy so I decided to just give it to you instead of myself."

Jonathan's eyes still locking yours. "Oh. Well, thank you, (Y/n). Do you want to come inside?" he offered, taking the prescription in your hands gently, his fingers touching yours.

You felt a strike on your spine at the sudden short touch. Jonathan's touch was gentle and his hands felt soft.

"O-Okay.." you replied.

Jonathan opened his door widely, letting you come inside first and then him. His office was twice as big as the outside. His certificates hanging on the wall. A small scarecrow figure is displayed on the black shelves.

"Please, sit." Jonathan offered.

Nodding, you sat down. Your hand still clutching tightly to your pockets.

"How have you been?" he asked, leaning against his wooden table while you sat in front of him.

"I'm fine, Doctor Cra—"

"Jonathan. Jonathan is alright." he interrupted.

"Oh, right.." you nodded. "I'm fine, Jonathan. Lots of customers but still doing great. And you?"

"Same way either," he replied, removing his glasses as he looked at you and fuck, you find it so hot.

"So, your secretary.." you brought up the topic. "Is she your.. girlfriend?"

Your question made him laugh. Putting his glasses on he replied, "What makes you think that?"

"Well, she told me that she's your soon-to-be girlfriend so you know.." your hands never leaving your pocket.

Jonathan notices how your hands never leave your pocket. His eyes trying to know what you're hiding inside it.

"What's in your pocket?" he asked, changing the topic.

Fuck.

You sighed, giving up. You stood up and grabbed the spray in your pocket, spraying on his face a couple of puffs. You let out a relief.

His eyes squinted, attempting to rub the liquid off his face.

"How are you feeling, Jonathan?" you asked, walking towards him closely; your face getting closer to his as you trickled your fingers onto his soft face before letting your lips meet his. His hands gripped your waist softly as he kissed back, savoring each other's taste.

He finally opened his eyes and let out another laugh. You let go of him immediately, you were confused. It didn't work? But you were sure that the formula was right. You had the right chemicals. You had the best hallucinogenic chemicals in the city.

Unless..

"Let me guess.. love potion?" he asked, his lips painting a smirk on his face as he looked at you.

You panicked. "I— Why isn't it working?"

Your heels stepped backward while he moved forward. Your heart started to thump aggressively; you were panicking.

"Why isn't it working indeed." Jonathan's eyes grow wide as his lips curve into a smirk. "Well, there are only two options. Either your little experience was an absolute fail or I'm already in love with you."

The words coming out of your mouth left you gasping. He's right. There were only two options.

"But how about your secretary?" you asked.

Jonathan began walking much closer to you until both of your faces were inches apart; your waist hitting his desk. You can be sure that he can hear how loud your heartbeat is. You can smell his strong men's perfume from his neck and his wrists. You can see how ravishing his blue eyes really are.

"It's you. It's always been you." Jonathan confessed, his eyes getting soft as he looked at you.

After a few visits from the pharmacy, Jonathan started to take an interest in you. He observes how you tilt a strand of your hair to the back of your ear whenever he compliments you. How your things are always the same color which he thinks is your favorite. How your ears perked up whenever he brings small conversations about your expertise— medicines.

Jonathan's soft hands found their way to your hips, securing them; tthemknowow you were his. Your lower body sat on top of his black wooden table. His, then, lips crashed into yours again but delicately. You were shocked by the sudden confession and the kiss but you ignored it anyway; you kissed him back, gripping a fistful of his hair as the kiss deepened. The way his tongue met yours made you wet. He explored your lips and tongue, allowing him to savor your taste leaving a trail of kisses down your neck before sucking it, making you suddenly moan in pleasure.

"Ah yes," you moaned but immediately covered your mouth when you noticed how loud it was.

"Don't worry, love," he said in between kisses, continuing to mark your neck. "The whole room is soundproof. Scream all you want, doll."

The wetness in your panties became worse. Your breath hitched as he sucked that spot in your neck. His hands began to trail down to your thighs, his fingers tracing it. The tent in his pants began to be visible.

"Please— touch me, Jonathan.."

Jonathan's fingers now trailed in between your thighs, toying with your clothed clit under your skirt. The touch sends shivers down your spine. He can feel how wet you are and your white lacey panties.

His lips began to paint another sluggish smirk. "So wet for me already?" he teased.

"Please, Johnny. I need you," you cried in pleasure as his fingers started to massage your clit from your panties.

Jonathan removed your panties before throwing them off the floor. The cold air touching your sensitive cunt made you shiver. His thumb began to rub it slowly and then his pace fastened making you bob your head backward, your eyes closing as you felt the pleasure down there. The wet noise echoed all over the room. He then started to insert two of his fingers with no warning making you moaaloudud.

"Fuck!— Yes, Jonathan!"

You moaned as his finger hit that spongy spot there. Your toyed pussy clenching around his fingers. His thumb circling figure eights on your clit. Back arching, your legs squirmed.

Jonathan's fast pace made you feel the knot in your stomach tighten, feeling more wet. Your moans were getting louder and louder.

"Jon.." you moaned. "I'm close."

"Go on," he whispered, you can feel his hot breath on your neck. "Cum on my fingers."

Jonathan's pace quickened until your orgasm flowed. His fingers were coated with your white juices. Jonathan brought up his fingers to his tongue, licking it clean as he tasted your juice.

"Mhm, sweet," he smirked.

Even though you just came from your orgasm, you still have that desire for more. You want him to take you. You want to feel him.

Jonathan gave you a small sweet kiss before his hands found their way to his black trousers, unzipping them; his erection can be clear through his boxers.

"You want me that bad, huh?" he teased. "I think you're the one who drank that potion of yours."

His voice was deep, husky, and raspy which made you want him more. He removed his black blazer, leaving him with his white long-sleeved polo and a tie. You began to unzip your skirt as well, tossing it on the floor. He kisses you again deeply.

As soon as he removed his boxers, his cock sprung out. He was bigger than you expected and veiny. Jonathan began to align his cock to your dripping and aching hole and then inserted himself fully.

"Fuuuckkk—" he groaned as he felt your tight walls take him. "You're so tight."

You gasped as you felt his length take you; a loud hiss escaped from your lips.

"Are you okay? Does it hurt?" he genuinely asked as he noticed you hissed.

Shaking your head, you gripped his broad shoulders. "No— I'm fine. Just keep going."

Jonathan started to slowly thrust inside you, taking no rush which you appreciated. He was gentle. Your legs locked his hips as you embraced his shoulders with your arms.

"I've been dreaming about this since—" he let out a low groan as his hips moved closer to you . "..the day I saw you. Fuck, you're beautiful."

His thrust quickened, making you moan. Your tits were bouncing at every move he makes. Your eyes were completely shut, your head rolling back as you savored the pleasure Jonathan gave you. The way his tip hit your G-spot made you scream a series of the most pornographic moans you've ever done.

"Oh my god! Yes yes yes!"

A smirk on his face was formed when he heard your lovely moans in his ears. Your moans are probably his favorite note. His baby blue eyes met yours when you looked at him. The way he was still wearing his sexy glasses made you blush more.

"You feel so good, my love," he said in between his thrusts. "Fuck— you're mine, okay?"

"Yes, Johnny! I'm—fuck— yours!"

All you felt was nothing but love and ecstasy. Every thrust, every moan, every kiss, and every touch coming from him makes you feel weak and pleasurable.

The table you guys were fucking on aggressively moves at every movement the both of you do. His files, ball pens, and other items fell from the table but none of you minded as your business was focused somewhere else.

A feeling of wetness and and closeless throb in your stomach. Jonathan abusing your sensitive spot with his fat cock didn't help. Your moans and his grunts synchronize together as the both of you feel close.

"I'm gonna cum, love. Where do you want it?"

"Inside, please! Fuck! Fill me up, please please please!"

"My princess wants me to fill her up, yeah? Alright then."

After a few more aggressive thrusts, you felt your orgasm came. His cock was now stained with your cum as he continued.

"Gonna cum now, doll. Take it, baby. Yes yes yes!" Jonathan groaned as he finally came inside you. His dick spurts out his hot white cum inside your walls. Jonathan, then, pulled out; a mix of his load spilled out in your hole.

"Fuck, look at that," he said, watching it dripped to his black table.

Jonathan gave you another kiss but this time, it was passionate. His lips let out a series of compliments which made you flustered and blush at the same time.

"I guess I'll be the one who'll give you your medicines now," you teased.

"I look forward to that, my love."

After dressing up again, Jonathan guided you to the door, not wanting you to be late for your shift. As soon as he opened the door, the both of you were greeted by his assistant who just came in.

"Doctor Crane and... Miss (L/n)... Didn't expect you to visit here." the female assistant said, clearly not expecting you at all.

"Natalia, clear out my schedule this Friday. I'm going on a date with Miss (L/n) here." Jonathan said, making you blush at the sudden invitation.

His assistant's face turned into a frown and anger but tried to let out a fake smile before you and Jonathan left his clinic.

"Your assistant must be sad that I'm going out with you, Doctor Crane."

"Oh, baby... I'm only yours."

[threepandas]

Bad End: Poisoned Cups

I hadn't adjusted well, at first. I don't think anyone could have. Being an elf sound cool, on paper. The better eye sight, the incredible hearing, the stamina. All sorts of perks right? But what they don't tell you, is that when your soul is human? When you get isekai'd by some divine oversight or fucker with a truck?

It doesn't adapt that well, to a new body. Your soul INSISTS you should still be human, with all the trappings, and throws a FIT, when you just.... aren't. So you end up with migraines. Eyes that swim in and out of focus. Wheezing, struggling, breathe. A body at war with itself.

The world was so loud. Too loud. I could hear EVERYTHING and it HURT. Couldn't breathe and THAT hurt. Was nauseated all the time, from my eyes refusing to focus properly. That too, hurt. All of it, pain. Just? Pain. Day after day, pain pain pain.

My poor parents were helpless. The doctors struggled.

But the King? HE could save me.

And he did.

He was younger then. Just barely into his rule. His Father having just stepped down. My parents, desperate, brought me before him. Waited in line for days. They didn't even know if he COULD do anything, were grimly prepared for him to say that sadly, nothing COULD be done. But? Instead? He looked me over, called for several old texts, looked again, then called upon the strength of the Throne.

My parents apparently started weeping the second I stopped.

All I remember is the pain going away. Being exhausted. A REALLY pretty elf man in a crown. Things getting... better, after that.

I was told that story often, as a child. It utterly transformed our household. From merely loyal citizens, to devote Loyalists. Speaking ill of the King in THIS house? Would now get you HURT. My parents had been convinced they were going to LOSE me. The King as far as they were concerned, saved my LIFE.

Which is why I didn't put anything together. Seeing as we were an "all King all the time" Sort of house. We had one(1) team and we were sticking to it. Permanently. His son? Eeeeh, maybe. We'd figure that out later. We didn't care to know. And I was too busy with school work to CHECK.

Which? Meant I didn't NOTICE? He looked? More and more... Otome Capture Target as time went on. Specifically, he looked kinda crown prince from "Dance of the Secret Forest! A True Love For Me?!" sort of Shaped. Which... gee, what ARE the odds? Especially given that so many OTHER things are named suspiciously similar or exactly the same to that game?

.........yeeeeeah. I decided not to take chances.

I looked that shit UP.

And wouldn't you know it? Protagonist-chan? Not there yet. But she SURE COULD BE! All the legends were EXACTLY what they should be. Forests and locations the same! PEOPLE the same! Oh HELL no. Good to know where NOT to be, I guess.

Not my circus, NOT my Otome Drama Monkeys.

I? Would be working for the KING. My family owed him a debt.

And when I graduated? I applied. Top of my class. I studied my ASS off. Could have gone anywhere. But I was aiming for the TOP. A debt to be repayed and frankly? Excellent job security on top of it! So filling busy work in dusty ass backrooms it was. Gotta start from the bottom, after all.

I exhausted them. Was honestly barely trying too at that point. They should see me TRYING to put my nose to the grindstone. Burn the midnight oil! Ha! HA, I say! Long elven lifespans slow you all down! I? Used to live in a capitalist hellscape! This is NOTHING.

I'm not even multi-tasking. It's not even LUNCH YET.

Did I get promoted? Yes. Do I worry my coworkers? Deeply! But shit needs doing and we don't have all day! There is a nation to run! Have some tea. Eat a turnover. Now~! Where are my fuckin documents~☆?

I get promoted again.

Then again.

Aaaaand again.

I'm pretty sure it's cause I scare people. Am FAST. Efficient. Willing to hunt my coworkers for SPORT, like a god damned bloodhound, if it means we get that one extra tax document that makes or breaks us. I have (and will again if necessary) climbed through people's fucking WALLS. Cause, honestly? If they wanted to stop me?

They should have warded the gods damned vents.

Fuckin casuals. Get on my level.

So, now? I am the baby. King's inner circle. And EVERYONE? Is damn near twice my age! And, granted, yes. It IS hilarious I still scare like half the people working under me... but come ON! You are elite government officials! Do BETTER! (Geez. At least my PARENTS couldn't be prouder.)

But... (and God damn it, why is there ALWAYS a "but"?) here's the thing. It? Took me a WHILE to get where I am now. Long enough, in fact, for our... Problem, to arrive. A Problem which is GOING to cast his Majesty's kingdom into chaos and turmoil, in fighting and divides. Religious upheaval. A PROBLEM, which? In the name of luuuuuv~?

Is going to get NEIGHBORING COUNTRIES involved.

And WHO do you think is going to have to deal with that? WHO will have to prevent all out WAR? Religious schisms? Ward off assassins in the night? Certainly not Mr. "But Daddy, I love her!". Oh no, HE gets to sit back and enjoy the fruits of his father's suffering! Make more trouble! (Fucker.)

But, hey! Maybe I should throw in with his SECOND son, right? The supporting character? He seems vastly more reasonable and emotionally more balanced doesn't he? Well educated, cautious, why, thoughtful even! Ha ha... yeah... he DOES seem that way, doesn't he?

SEEMS.

He Is Not. Little fucker is a SPECIAL flavor of batshit. Completely "wake to find him standing over you, in your LOCKED BEDROOM, asking if you want to see his new favorite knife" nutty puffs. Not sure which side of the family it comes from, to be honest. Disturbingly good at getting past my warding.

Or at least he WAS, until I got the King involved. Ha! Royal wards! You can't touch me! I sleep like a BABY now! The only people who can enter my rooms now? Are literally JUST me and the KING HIMSELF! How safe is that~‽

But for real... poor his Majesty, you know? It's not like he didn't TRY to be a good father. Take time he couldn't afford out of each day, to spend time with his sons. Insist on eating meals together so he could ask them about their interests, how each day had gone. Involved them where he safely could.

He's a somber man. A dignified one. But let NO ONE say, he is not a LOVING one.

And HOW do his children fucking reward him? Middle school love dramatics and MURDER ATTEMPTS IN THE NIGHT! Because, YES, I have found the disturbing murder board that the second prince has in his "secret" room. Right along his equally disturbing stalker board of ME.

I, obviously, told the King.

He did not look pleased.

Don't know if my new reality has, like, intensive therapy programs or something? But I hope for ALL our sakes, that the second Prince is at the winter palace getting HELP, instead of just? You know... plotting.

His Highness has a nasty tendency to plot, after all. But hey, his Majesty says not to worry about it? I choose to believe him. Concern myself with more immediate threats. Enjoy, no longer turning around to find some baby faced little creep with a hunter's stare, just... watching me. As I try to work. As I try to eat. Around corners, still as a statue, yet somehow a THREAT, in lonely and too empty corridors.

God fucking DAMN, his little "crush" was creepy!

If it weren't for his Majesty? I would have run and run FAR. But... but I? And you CAN NOT repeat this, okay? It's WILDLY inappropriate! A-And I SWEAR I'm never going to.. to ACT on it! I would NEVER. So...so PROMISE, okay?

....cause.... I may... MAY! Possibly! Just a LITTLE bit! Sorta, kinda, just a BIT? Have a TEENY? Little crush... on... his Majesty? Maybe???

YOU CAN'T TELL!

It's SO fucking inappropriate. Oh my GOD. I hate this so much!? Cause he's my BOSS! And old enough to be my DAD! I SHOULDN'T be so attracted to him, right?! Plus he's the KING! There's definitely a power imbalance there! How would that even WORK?! We would have no future! I don't know the first THING about how to BE royalty. And no one would accept me!

Not that I think I even have a CHANCE! Fuck no! I'm not THAT arrogant.

But, like? A girl can day dream. Fantasize, you know?

Which is why? Having his SON? Be a creepo stalker at me? Kinda the WORST. I've literally JUST discovered I'm into older men! Thanks! BEGONE, zygote! Also, your vibes are RANCID! No thanks! I hated that and am SO glad it's gone. Now? All I have to worry about? Is Protagonist-chan and the political SHIT SHOW she drags after her like trail of destruction.

Why is she involving foreign royalty? PLEASE stop involving foreign royalty! Dukes! Religious leaders! MILITARY LEADERS. Stop "Helen of Troy"-ing your ass through our nice, PEACEFUL, kingdom!!! What the ACTUAL FUCK!? This is NOT A THEME PARK.

I watch, vaguely horrified, as his Majesty finishes reading three (yes, count um! Fucking THREE!) different royal missives demanding three different women of legend, from three DIFFERENT legends, who coincidentally enough? Happen to ALL BE THE SAME PERSON. Fucking Protagonist-chan.

They were from long standing ALLIES.

We could not AFFORD to lose those.

And the FOURTH message? Oh, THAT? That, was from his SON! Mr. "But Daddy! I Love her!" HIMSELF! He wants permission to marry the random woman of unknown province he found in the woods! Could be a foreign spy! Could be a mad woman. Who CARES right? They're SO in love~

Enough to START A WAR OVER IT.

I skip the tasting cups and instead? Bring his Majesty a bottle of the strongest star wine I can find. The sort that could damn near eat through rocks and vaporizes in air if you pour it out. Pain killers too, for what HAS to be a killer headache. Then I hesitate. You know what? Fuck it. I grab a cart. Make a care package.

Paper, ink, the STRONG tea, that special occasions tea (in case he needs a reason to remember his will to live), some snacks, a few shawls in case he decides to work late...

It's worth it, to see the way his stressed face relaxs when I return. Eyes softening, corner of his mouth curling up in that tiny, secret, little smile. We can get through this. We WILL get through this. I may not be able to stand by his side, but? I can support him. Help.

So long as HE sits in this office, burning himself down to keep this nation warm, so too, will I.

Tea or booze, your Majesty?

"A blend, I think. Unfortunately, I fear it is going to be a long night for us both." He replies. His voice smooth and low, effortlessly filling the room. A lifetime of public speaking, ingrained so very deep. "You should pour yourself a cup as well, my dear. Sleep will be a long time coming, we will need both the calm and the clarity."

I rolled my borrowed tea cart to the side and got to work. Strong tea and stronger star wine. Certainly a... flavor. Fairly certain such a thing should be illegal. Pretty sure our healers are going to be appalled. But, oh well. Needs, must. One for me, one for him.

He held out a hand. It was a sweeping gesture of his arm, a gentle turn of his wrist. I could never get used to his casual... elegance. The beauty of him. Like a living art work. A dancer. As though he were an actor, striking a pose, about to consider the soul of the simple tea cup. I handed it over, gently and with as much elegance as I could.

It still felt clumsy in comparison.

Yet he still smiled, just slightly. In that way I had learned to spot. Tension dripping away from his shoulders like thawing ice. Running in little rivers like melt waters, as he sat back in his chair, half turning it to face me. A brief moment to relax. Before work begins again.

"Ah... completely vile. Thank you, dear. It's disgusting." He said dryly, catching me off gaurd, and making me damn near snort into my cup. "If it did not work so well? I would never consume this swill again. What a perfect waste of tea and wine. We should invite Yevault."

I laugh. A snirking, snorting, choked little thing into my cup. God, but I've been TRYING to laugh more elegantly. Hell, I've even practiced. But when he catches me off gaurd? I swear to God, I cackle and pop. Like some sort of deranged witch pig. Ow, my sinuses.

"Oh but that's right, Yevault is a healer, on the occasions he takes time from being an unbearable snob. He might actually make us rest, dear. Then where would we be?" His Majesty muses, taking another sip before grimacing at the taste.

I go to respond. Probably some quip about "preferably in bed" or "asleep". Only... only to find my tounge sluggish. My exhaustion mounting, not slipping away. The world has begun to sway. Just a little at first, then notable. My mouth... fuzzy? Prickly. W...what?

His Majesty has begun to frown. Delicately setting down his cup... cup? Something about... a cup... I have taken too long to respond. He rises. Strides in a few, urgent, steps over to where I lean. Against the edge of my assistants desk. Swaying~ swaying~ w-why is the ground... my tounge feels to big. Think? I've begone to drool?

Warm, big hands cup my face. Was slipping forward, to the side. Gonna fall? Not anymore. Up. Hi! Is the king. Hi King. I... I don't feel so good...

His eyes have gone focused and cold. Pretty. Crown begins to glow. Leaves. Gold and gold, a halo of light. From within and beyond him. Power of the throne. Oh... oh I was here before, wasn't I? My bones remember. Like the roots to his great tree, power seeping deeper and deeper into my body, finding imperfections to consume. So... so much LIGHT.

I can not look away.

"Poison, was it? How terribly banal. Do they think me so simple to kill?" There is scorn in his voice. Utter distain. But deep beneath, like the hidden embers of a forest fire, there is rage. "How dare they drag you into this. Bad enough they throw a FIT over some trouble making tart, now they get the innocent involved? What if I had not been paying attention? Or you had taken that tea where I could not see it? Unacceptable."

Like spreading branches, like antlers, the light spread. The hands on my face gentle even as his Majesty's face might as well have been carved from stone. I tried to protest, swallowing thinking past the still rolling nausea. It was my fault! The tasting cups exsist for a REASON. They're supposed to test for things like this. I got too comfortable.

"No." The word slammed down as about an absolute as any sentence CAN. A declaration from on high. The commandment of a king. "It takes far more then simple poisons or common blades to kill me. The power that flows through the Throne insures it. You do not have that luxury. You could have DIED."

"....might still yet."

The last bit, almost a confession, pressed to my brow as he leaned down to press his lips to my forhead. His grip tighter, as though to stop his hands from shaking. My joints were starting to hurt, like I had a nasty cold, and I was already starting to feel feverish. I was starting to drip sweat. Shit.

I tried to stay calm. But... but I was scared. What do I do? Your Majesty! What do I DO?!

"We are going back to my quarters. Work can be brought to me. You need to lay down." He decided after a long moment of deliberation. Something had shifted in his eyes. I couldn't make heads or tails of it. Clung to the only trustworthy source of comfort I knew, in the chaos of this moment. "I'm going to take care of you. I have you, dear. Just trust me, darling. I will fix this. I swear it. You don't have to worry about a thing. Just put all of your trust in me, all right?

"Just come with me, dear. Everything will be all right."

"You can trust me."

[bahrtofane]

thinking thinking of a college au where jude happens to accidentally runs right into you while he's rushing to make it to an exam and it sends you tumbling and he yells a bunch of apologies to you while you just stare at him with a from from the ground.

and he feels so bad oh so bad but his exam is in 5 mins and it takes him 8 to get there he needs to run.

post exam he spends his free time trying to find you and makes it his mission to properly apologize. he's a big guy and the concrete side walk isnt exactly a soft landing you definitely got a few bruises.

oh you definitely hate him and rightfully so. hes so mean!!

----

jude finds you again, eventually. after a whole month of asking around and stalking instagram posts and the schools website for any clues. he meets you again on the same side while hands tucked into the jacket you wear bopping your head to whatever music youre listening to through you headphones.

jude perks up right away, weaving through people till he taps your shoulder and hes finally found you again.

your eye brows raise as you turn. "oh my god its you." you sneer eyes narrowed.

"listen im so sorry-" he tries.

"yeah no shit i feel on my ass and had a bruise the size of my god damn face man." you’ve taken your headphones off now.

he winces. "i really am sorry i didnt mean to at all."

you scoff, "yeah buddy sure. do you always push people into the ground and run away or am i just that lucky."

he scratches the back of his head, trying not to make eye contact with passersby who are definitely ease dropping.

"i was late to an exam and didn’t see you. i've been trying to find you this whole time to apologize its been eating me up inside."

you sigh.

"listen, let me take you for dinner or pay for something. i really want to make it up to you i know the fall was a killer you landed so rough.."

"i know," you dead pan, "i was there."

he gives an awkward crack of a smile while playing with the zipper on his hoodie. "no pressure." he whispers.

"fine okay. but id rather not dinner. a cafe or something. "

he smiles, it reaches his eyes things time. "amazing," he hands you his phone, "give me your number and we can figure out when?"

you reluctantly take it, typing yoru number in and sending him a hi message.

he takes the phone back, texting you a quick hello its jude.

you hum, "your names Jude?"

He nods, "sure is."

"im still calling you tall asshole."

"ill take it."

he hopes you forgive him. (you do, this is an excuse to talk to him more).

[anotherfcknschlattsimp]

SCHLATT WITH A GODDESS STUNNING BEAUTIFUL GORGEOUS PRETTY GF ^_^

AAAAAA I HAVE NO EXPERIENCE WITH THIS AS AN UGLY GAY MAN BUT ILL DO MY BEST

will NOT shut up about how gorgeous you are

walks with your hand in his and stares down anyone who looks at you too long for his liking

bragger, absolutely gets piss drunk at a creator party and starts showing and telling everyone how impossibly perfect you are

gets so jealous and insecure when guys come up to you and brush him off as just your friend

then you kiss his fuming face before he has a chance to knock the guy out

if one of your more conventionally attractive friends, or a pretty streamer starts talking to you, he backs down like a wounded puppy

like 2 minutes into the convo you go to look at him to see if he's okay and you just go :0 cause where the FUCK is he and HOW did you lose him

you excuse yourself to go find your self pitying boyfriend

he's pouting, drunk, cheek to the table in front of him

sees you and he perks up

doesnt even think about letting you know he's sad

he has to be a big burly man man for his perfect god/ess

put you see his puffy eyes and sniffles

"hey big guy, what's wrong? social battery that dead?" you say as you move the two of you to the door, ready to Irish goodbye it outta there

you can see him brace himself, "nuthin's wrong toots, you should get back to ya conversation" he leans to press a kiss to your forehead

"im not going anywhere without you bub" you gently pull his collar to make him lean down before covering his face in kisses

you can hear multiple shouts of course words from anyone that thought they had a chance with you realizing you really ARE taken by schlatt

you both decide to call it a night after schlatt popped a "problem" in his trousers

you notice he's grumpy about 5 minutes into the drive

"what's wrong baby :(" you pry, sad that the love of your life is sad

"nuthin' toots..." he mutters quietly

"don't sound like nuthin'"

"you're just too good for me 's all" he finally snaps, tears running down his face

youre finally home though

he gets out to walk to your side and open the door (always a gentleman)

you rush to hug him, tell him all the reasons you love him, and only him-

but the bitch ran inside already

you feel like a heeled usaine bolt as you patter and clack after the man as soon as you notice

TIMESKIP

you have schlatt pinned to the ground, his leg between yours and yours between his

he's stopped crying, eyes puffy and red, lips bitten and swollen (so very kissable), overall way too cute to think he wasn't enough for you

you both pant, trying to catch your breaths before talking things out

"I,,, love.,,,,,,,, YOU,,,, dumbass,,," you sound like you ran a marathon cause you basically did to find him in the absurdly big house

"why-" he starts before you capture his lips in a very passionate and hurried kiss, a ploy to stall so you can get your thoughts together

you break away "your smile" you kiss his forehead

"your laugh" you kiss his left cheek

"your mind" you kiss his right cheek

"your kindness with me" you kiss his nose

"and finally, your sexy body" you kiss him deeply again

he hasn't even caught his breath yet, calm down

NSFW

you feel something hard and hot pressing against your leg as you tangle your fingers in his hair

you move one hand down to lightly stroke him over his pants and boxers, eliciting a deep moan from the man under you

he takes an opening, that wasn't really there, to flip the two of you over "fuck,,, wanna take this to the bedroom, doll" he pants

you nod hard enough to send your hair everywhere like whips

he helps you stand before taking your hand and leading you to the bedroom, sitting you down on the bed and pushing you to lay down

he plants hot wet kisses down your form between declarations of love and reminders of your beauty as slightly tipsy and very eager fingers work to take off your shorts and underwear before lifting your legs to rest on his shoulders

he is DIVING in, the man is pussy STARVED and READY to EAT

might continue this later/another day

sorry if this isn't what you wanted, my fingers took me on a journey nobody was prepared for