#some of you are sick in the head i think sorry.

[enhaniki-san]

Nishimura Riki as your boyfriend and remembering some of your first times with him

warnings: smut, nsfw, niki's slightly sadistic, cursing, etc.

♱ boyfriend!ni-ki who likes to annoy the shit out of you and will not say sorry at all unless you get so angry or really about to cry.

♱ boyfriend!ni-ki who's not a fan of pda but will rest a hand on your nape or hold your wrist instead of your hand. it might seem possessive outside but he's just a sweet boy who likes keeping you close.

♱ boyfriend!ni-ki who isn't one to get sick often but when he did, you saw how it hit him hard, insisting he was fine even though his messages gets more dramatic by the hour.

niki: i'll rest so i can see my girlfriend right away.

you: yes, do that.

niki: then she can kiss me again.

niki: baby, i think i'm dying.

you'll sigh, shake your head as you read his texts. then he will send you a picture of his thermometer reading 39°C with a caption:

you might as well say your goodbyes.

♱ boyfriend!ni-ki who loves to help you give him handjobs.

the first time it happened is when you and niki were cuddling peacefully, his feverish body was warming both of you.

you felt his shaft harden, pressing insistently on your ass, making cheeks heated as you became very aware of his body's conscious or unconscious reaction to being close to you.

and niki who's oblivious, buried his face deeper into your shoulder with a low groan, mumbling "i don't want you to leave" with his drowsy voice, heavy with sleep but his crotch pressed harder, as if seeking more friction.

you turned to face him, your hand gently combed through his hair while clearing your throat softly. unsure of how to address his hardening length. "niki..." you started hesitantly.

"hmm?" he replied with sluggish tone like he was on the verge of falling asleep but then, as if he finally caught on to your stiffened posture, his grip loosened immediately.

you remembered him sitting up a little. his flushed face brighter than before and not just entirely because of the fever that had been keeping him in bed for days.

"oh my God..."

"i didn't mean for that to happen-"

you bit your lip, unsure whether to laugh at the awkwardness or save him from further embarrassment. "it's... okay."

then your hands travelled from his hair down slowly to his back, fingertips were grazing the dips of his spine as it drifted lower, ghosting over the curve of his ass before wrapping around his stiff length and giving it experimental strokes.

niki gasped, mouth opening and his eyes were fluttering shut, breathing "ahh, shit." while arching into your touch. you continued to pump his shaft, it's twitching while you smear the drops of precum to ease the glide.

he was so hard for you already that it made your own arousal surge. you can feel your pussy throbbing in response.

slowly, niki leaned, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss and he tasted like sleep, medicine, but underneath that, fuck... he was all male heat.

a moan vibrated in his throat as you worked on his cock, his hips were rocking into the tight circle of your fist and you swallowed the sound, deepening the kiss while your free hand roamed the lean muscles of his chest.

niki's hand wrapped around yours, helping you stroke his dick faster. you both looked down at where you were connected, watching his hard dick into your joined fists over and over again.

melting under your touch, niki's hand started fondling the soft fat of your tits, completely at your mercy as you brought him closer to the edge then your eyes met, heavy-lidded and full with lust, he crashed his mouth to yours again.

it's sloppy, all tongue, teeth, and desperation.

niki's breaths grew ragged, his fingers moved and dug into your shoulders and with a firm squeeze to the head of his cock, it urged him over.

niki came with a broken cry of your name. cum spurted over your hands, fingers. painting his stomach, your knuckles, and the bed.

"i love you so much."

♱ boyfriend!ni-ki who likes it when you asks him for anything whether it'll be something simple as helping you carry things or... something like asking him for head.

he will wrap his arms around you after and pull you into a tight hug, asking "it's good, right?"

"s-stop."

he will just laugh and rest his chin on your shoulder.

"god, this is so stupid."

"it's not, okay?" he will say firmly and look into your eyes. "i told you, you can ask me for anything. i mean it."

"we-well…" you'll try to change the subject by asking "do you wanna go downstairs and eat or something?"

"i just ate you."

♱ boyfriend!ni-ki who seems to lose control when it comes to eating and fingering your pussy. he loves your taste, the texture of your sensitive petals, the way you writhe and moan... it's utterly intoxicating. he becomes completely consumed by it and just can't stop pleasing you even after you already came.

your body spasms, your legs started shaking and quivering while your eyes were also already watering from the intensity of your climax that you just might black out from overstimulation, yet niki's unable to pull away from your slick folds.

his tongue continued to lap at your clit, fingering your hole that juices started gushing out the sensitive flesh and ni-ki's just groaning in delight, totally unbothered by your gasps and whimpers.

"niki, wait..." you'll plead breathlessly, trying to push him back. "please..."

ni-ki also knows that you'll get mad at him after and that he might earn a slap on his pretty face but like a man on a mission, his objective right there is to make you cum over and over until you're a mewling mess and going down on you is the only way he knows how to achieve this feat.

ni-ki can feel your pulse against his tongue and it drives him wild. you've already orgasmed multiple times but he thinks you might just have more climaxes inside you and he won't rest until they're spent.

♱ boyfriend!ni-ki who chuckled after hearing you blabber nonsensical words because of the mixture of pain and pleasure that you couldn't quite articulate while having sex with him for the first time. he'll whisper "my poor baby" while peppering soft kisses to your cheeks which is a contrast to the powerful movements of his hips.

♱ boyfriend!ni-ki who always misses you already while you were just sleeping beside him. he tucks your hair behind your ear as he watches you breathe, pouting because he can't talk to you. he'll gently lifts your arms, wrapping them around himself before burying his face into your neck, sighing dramatically like he's suffering.

a/n: i'm back, the cute outline was inspired by a heesung fic i read here but i can't find it anymore TT

please read Nishimura Riki as your classmate

read part-timers!niki x reader

read part-timers!niki x reader part 2

read snitch - reader x niki

read touché - niki x reader

read touché - niki x reader part 2

read exes - niki x reader

[seungfl0wer]

*𝐼𝓃𝓉𝓇𝓊𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒*

Pairing: Vampire!Changbin x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Idk what to put it as but changbin breaks in but there’s consent for the deed so. Choking, hand pinning, mentions of blood, unprotected sex, Creampie, oral(f), slight manhandling. This got some plot to it to wow- as always sorry for any mistakes or missing warnings!

This was requested from my second prompt list with the prompt 3: “Look at you”. Side note I wanted to have this out earlier but I ended up getting sick :( so sorry for the late posting it!

-🖤

It was late, you were in your bed fast asleep. The window open to let the nice summer breeze in. You could hear faint sounds of crickets chirping which only put you into a deeper sleep. Your slumber was cut short however, a big hand gripping at your throat as another pushed down your other arm.

Your eyes show open staring up at the silhouette of the man above you. He pushed your head to the side giving clear way to your neck. You tried pushing him off of you his strong legs held you in place as he grabbed your other hand. Holding them both above your head now. “Get the hell off of me!” You yelled still struggling underneath him.

“Struggling so much and for what? We both know you can’t break free.” He said with a chuckle. “Just let me have my taste of you sweetheart” he spoke again his voice coming out like honey. In the midst of everything you took notice of his long fangs he had. You knew vampires were real but you had never encountered one. At least that you knew of. “I saw you at the library, from all my years on this planet I’ve never smelled anyone like you” he said almost groaning.

“You’re- you’re a vampire?” You asked sheepishly.

“That I am sweetheart. Now just relax hm? It’ll only hurt for a second. I promise to be gentle.” He said his head now nuzzling at your neck. He took a long whiff of your skin before sinking his teeth into you. You body arched at the sharp pain only to be met with a warm feeling circulating your body. He was telling the truth, it only hurt for a split second.

He lapped at your neck making you let out an embarrassing loud moan. He chuckled against your skin before his hand ran down your body. “Look at that, no panties? You must have been expecting me hmm” he said with another chuckle. Your eyes fluttered open and close at the feeling of his touch, at his words. His fingers ghostly brushed against your folds making him groan loudly. He pulled away from your neck moving himself quickly down your body. “Fuck- look at you- you’re soaked” he said with a wild smirk.

“Shut up” you said moving yourself upwards to get away from him. He quickly grabbed your legs pulling you right back down to him “uh uh no running sweetheart, let me take care of you hm?” He said diving quickly to your core giving you no time to protest. He lapped at your folds like he did to your neck this time though it was messier. His pretty nose rubbed against your clit as he ate you out tongue darting into you. Your head fell back, fuck you’ve never had anyone eat you out like this. Like it was the only way they could live, like they needed it like they needed air. Or in his case I guess- blood.

He pushed his fingers into you pumping slowly at first finding the right speed to drive you crazy. “How does every part of you just taste so- sweet? It’s addicting.” He mumbled against your skin. Your cunt clenched around his fingers you were so close already. He curled his fingers at just the right spot as he started to suck at your clit. “Let go sweetheart, cum for me” he said eyes keeping contact with yours.

He let a small nibble to your clit making your body arch, shaking as you came hard around his fingers. Just like your neck he cleaner you up making sure to not leave any of your sweet nectar behind. “You think you can give me one more? Cum on my cock like that hm? Can you do that for me sweetheart?” He asked in that same sweet honey voice.

“And- and if I say no” you breathed out.

“Then I’ll leave, but we both know you want this just as much as I do. I’ll be gentle I promise.” He said again. You took a moment to think, were you really gonna let this guy have what he wanted? You could see from the moonlight how handsome he truly was. Soft red eyes, the sharp jaw line and oh god that body. He wasn’t the stereotypical scrawny vampire no he was buff. Those big arms would be perfect little pillows.

“Well sweetheart?” He said snapping you back to reality. “What’s your decision?”

“Fine, only on one condition” you said trying to look sternly at him.

“And what may that be?” He asked scooting closer to you.

“I think I deserve- deserve cuddles after this” you said the request making him smile. Fuck- was his smile so sweet looking.

“Of course, you’ve been so good for me I wouldn’t dream of leaving you just yet” he said moving closer to kiss you but you pulled back.

“One more thing” you said.

“That would be two conditions then” he teased. “But go on”

“What’s your name?” You asked.

“Oh, how could I forget my manners I’m sorry sweetheart. I’m changbin. Seo Changbin” he said.

Your eyes went wide, the little you did know about vampires you knew that last name. They were a huge coven with many high class vampires. “Wait- seo?” You asked.

“I’ll take all your questions after sweetheart, but for now I’m going to give this sweet little cunt what she’s craving” he said running his fingers up your folds.

He got his body positioned on top of you leaning down to finally kiss you. You could hear as he did his pants hitting the floor somewhere. He moved his cock up and down your folds collecting the slick enough to glide right in. When he pushed inside of you, you were shocked. His cock was fat, the thickness stretching you out so nicely. If it wasn’t for his work earlier it probably would have hurt. When he was nestled nicely inside you he peered down at you. His eyes searching your face for any signs of discomfort.

“You- you can move” you said softly. And with that he did. He started off slow and deep. His cock taking in your warm walls as it moved.

“Fuck- everything about you is just so perfect” he groaned. His movements picked up but not before he hooked your legs. Pushing them to your chest as he made himself go as deep as possible. You could feel his heavy balls smacking against your ass as he pounded into you.

“Feel- good?” He asked breathily.

“S’good- feels so good” you moaned out. Your hands reached up to him, grabbing his strong muscular arms. His eyes looked so soft like he didn’t wanna hurt you. Like you were this precious little thing to him. He took your hand into his interlocking your fingers as he let your legs fall back to the side. He moved his body down towards you kissing you passionately.

He kissed down your jaw line and almost instinctively you moved your head, revealing your neck to him. This made something in his brain short circuit. His pupils dilated becoming a bit redder a low almost growl escaped his lips. Before you knew it, he was pounding into you faster, harder and somehow deeper. His fangs found your neck once again biting at the sensitive skin.

Everything mixed together had you seeing stars, moans and cries spilled from your lips as you felt you high fast approaching. “Cum. Cum for me sweetheart- fucking cum for me” he said in that same almost growl tone. Your body arched with one final thrust you both were cumming hard. Your body shook almost violently, with such a strong orgasm.

He moved himself back to your face kissing you lovingly before pushing some hair away.

He stared at you with so much love in his eyes it made you blush. “I broke one of my number one rules” he said with a light chuckle.

“Which was?” You asked.

“I never kiss anyone during sex, almost makes it feel to loving. But. I couldn’t help it. For you I’d give all my love” he said that honey voice returning. “I’ve watched you for a while, there was just something about you that I kept getting drawn to.” He added.

He kissed your nose softly before cradling you in his arms as if it was something he’s always done. He ran a warm bath before placing you into it. “I’m sorry for being so rough at the end, it’s just you- you bared your neck to me. That’s something that we vampires see as a sign of love and trust” he admitted.

“You’re from the seo coven right?” You asked, the question that you had wanted to from earlier.

“That I am, I’m actually one of the highest heirs. A vampire born from vampires. A pure blood if you will.” He said.

“So what you’re telling me is, a royal wanted me?” You said with a smile.

“Oh sweetheart, anyone would want you. You’re perfect in so many ways” he said stroking your hair. “Now let’s get you cleaned up shall we? I think one of your conditions was cuddling hmm?” He said kissing your forehead.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget @0omillo0 @jellymochii @stilltrynafuckingtumble @catlove83 @delulkpopstan143 @sheerfreesia007

[candykissd]

drunk bingo

𝓗𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐋𝐄𝐖𝐈𝐒 🐇

drunk bingo is a crazy time, especially when you're a lightweight. although, harry's there to take care of you.

warnings : alcohol consumption, nausea, mature language, fluff

nats notes : idk how to feel about this, i feel like it could be longer? i'm not sure though, i can never really write long chapters... but lmk what you think !! - luv from nat <3

the flashing lights were enough to make you feel sick, sicker than you already did. drunk bingo was one of your most favourite events, though, it's safe to say alcohol isn't your best friend.

you were already pretty much pissed by the third drink, and yet somehow were managing to pass out coherent sentences.. up until the eight drink, at least.

you were wedged between george and harry, with bach and arthur tv on the ends of the table. at the start of the night you were sure you were going to be the best team, winning all the challenges, calling bingo here and there. but then they decided to give you a few drinks. not a smart move.

"number 63!" simon called out from the platform on which he stood, the various flashing lights surrounding him sending your head spinning into a vortex of feeling sorry for yourself.

"'m gonna get some air.." you slurred out as you stood up, making your way around the tables, not without stumbling into a few, and finding the back door. pushing it open with all your might and leaning against the railing outside.

"she okay?" arthur asked the other boys as he saw her leave. "yeah, probably just so unbelievably shitfaced." harry shrugged as he stood up, following along the trail that you had walked just a minute ago.

deep breathe in, deep breathe out, is what you told yourself, the nauseous feeling creeping up on you again, despite the fact that it felt as though it had only just washed away. you couldn't help but jump in your skin as you felt a hand on your lower back.

"you okay?" sounded harry's familiar voice as he smiled down at you.

"yeah... 'm good." you mumbled out, raising your hand to your forehead as you turned slightly to face him, whilst you still felt ill, you couldn't help but smile up at him.

you'd liked harry for the longest time, and the two of you had somewhat of a flirtation-ship, always taking the piss out of each other, and flirting with one another. but, it was all harmless. you both denied having feelings for each other; even though all of your friends could see through it.

harry's hand slid up your back, his touch light, but enough to make you shiver as his hand made its way to play with your hair, tucking a piece behind your ear. "you wanna go home?" he asked, tilting his head, as if he was secretly admiring you, which he wasnt doing a good job at hiding.

you didn't say anything, not feeling the need, nor the ability to speak properly, just nodding and smiling softly at him as he stood up straight.

he turned around and signalled to the others through the door that he was taking you home, and just to carry on with the game, before placing his hands on your shoulders from behind, spinning you around and practically pushing you towards the main road where he called for a taxi.

when the two of you got to your apartment, you fumbled around in your bag for your keys. harry laughing as he saw you struggle, grabbing your bag and pulling out your keys for you, unlocking the door and letting you stumble inside first, shutting the door behind him as he followed you in.

it was a good thing harry good handle is alcohol, as he was damn near sober, sober enough to take care of you properly.

you stumbled into the kitchen, steadying yourself with your hands on the countertop as you looked over at him.

"come on.. let's get you ready for bed." he said with a fond smile as he picked you up bridal style, a childish giggle escaping your lips as your arms wrapped around his neck, just as an extra precaution to make sure he doesn't drop you.

"harry wroetoshaw lewis if you drop me..." you laughed out, throwing your head back as he walked you down the hallway and into your bedroom.

"i won't drop you, love, don't you fret." he shook his head playfully as he plopped you down on the edge of your bed.

you sighed contently as you watched him disappear into your en suite bathroom, coming out with the bottle of micellar water and a cotton wool pad, crouching down infront of you.

without saying anything, he wet the wool pad with the micellar water and helped you wipe the makeup of your face, eliciting a small laugh from you and a smile.

once all your makeup was off he threw the cotton wool pad in the bin and looked at you, "you're so good to me..." you mumbled, titling your head as you smiled at him childishly.

"well, im not prepared to get a bollocking off of you in the morning when you wake up with your makeup on." he laughed out as he stood up.

you flopped back onto the bed with a sigh. "these jeans are so uncomfy.." you grumbled out as you swayed from side to side on the bed, as if the action would somehow wriggle them off of your body.

"you wanna get changed?" he asked, looking down at you as you nodded.

"gimme your hoodie." you practically demanded, crossing your arms as he laughed and shook his head.

"so demanding..." he mumbled, pulling his hoodie off over his head, the shirt that he had on underneath riding up slightly, a sight that caused a slight blush to creep up on your face, despite the flush you originally had from the alcohol in your system.

he walked over and stood infront of you, "arms up." he motioned with his hands as well as his words, with you happily obliging as he pulled the top you were wearing off your torso and over your head, placing it on the bed beside you.

you fumbled with the button of your jeans and unzipped them, laying back and lifting up your hips slightly as he pulled the denim off of your legs in one swift movement, before helping you into his hoodie, which you quickly settled into, the warmth of his body still stuck in the fabric, as well as the subtle scent of his cologne.

you let out a soft hum as you crawled over into your bed, snuggling in under the duvet, your head resting perfectly on the pillows.

"you comfy?" he asked, smiling at your drunken state.

"mhm.." you hummed with a small nod, just as extra reassurance. he nodded slightly as your eyes closed, and he knew you'd quickly drifted off to sleep as he made his way to your bedroom door, flicking the light off on his way out, making sure not to make too much noise when leaving your apartment.

the fresh sunlight woke you up as it filtered through the curtains of your room, the sun just directly shining on you as you rolled over with a groan, trying your hardest to shield yourself from the blinding light.

your eyes fluttered open, settling on the glass of water and paracetamol on the bedside table, a small smile forming on your face, your mind flooding with the memories of the previous night, and just how well harry had taken care of you. looking down at yourself and seeing the hoodie your were wrapped up warm in, quickly identifying it is harry's, causing your smile to grow.

although the smile was quickly overtaken by a frown as the pounding in your head grew. pushing yourself up on your arms slowly, and leaning back against the headboard; you reached over for the glass of water and tablet, desperate for some sort of pain relief.

and all you could thing to yourself was:

harry lewis, the man you are.

[konjiang]

Cumplane Library au

Sy was in the Library studying when he saw that PIDW just had a new update, he almost couldn't contain himself and started fuming from anger. Thankful no one else beside the library staff was here right now.

He quickly craft up the most vile and disrespectful review post, and hit send before anyone else even left a comment. Some may say his dedication to hating on Airplane was obsessive and unhealthy, but his hands shake with fury every time he read a new chapter. If he didn't do something, he would probably get sick from the repressed feeling.

After spurring out all his hatred towards Airplane in the post, he resumed studying for his class. Right when he was about to put in his earbuds and to start playing some lofi, he heard a quiet chuckle from behind him. The quiet library staff was staring at him and trying to hide his laughter.

The burning in his face was sure to set the library on fire with how hot he felt. He couldn't believe that someone witness him in his lowest form. He quickly got up and packed his laptop away, planning on dying from embarrassment in the safety of his room.

'This is all that fucking dumb hack author's fault!' He practically ran to the door, but the door wouldn't open now matter how he pulled or pushed. He had no choice to turn around and pretend like nothing happened.

He tried to nonchalantly go back to his seat, but a pair of brown eyes followed his movement. When he crossed over the front desk, the guy abruptly stand up and smiled at him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh at you like that. It was that you were so funny getting mad at the novel you were reading." He had brown curly hair, dimples on both side of his face, a ponytail, and a innocent looking face. Sy thought that this guy looked exactly like what he thought LBH looked like.

"That door is currently shut because of construction. A lot of people have been trying to open it all day, but they never read the sign I put up." the LBH lookalike sighed, and SY turned his head and saw that there was indeed a piece of paper tape to the door, but in his flustered state, he couldn't bother to read it.

"Oh. Thanks..." Sy mumbled out, this day was getting worse by the second.

"What were you reading?" the innocent looking guy asked. Sy couldn't tell him, he couldn't be the one to ruin this guy's innocent.

"Just some webnovel." SY deflected, wanting this conversation to end already.

"Oh really?" They guy bounced a bit as he leaned forward causing his ponytail to sway slightly, "I like web novels too, which one were you reading?" SY stared at the guy's doe eyes, noting that he was definitely not as tall as LBH, since he was shorter than SY.

'He would look great cosplaying white lotus LBH.' Sy thought, but he didn't want to entertain that idea at all because his brain kindly provided him with all the sex scenes from varies chapters of PIDW.

"It's not really popular, so I don't think you'll like it." Sy stood there in agony when the cute guy looked at him disappointedly.

"Oh...okay. Sorry for bothering you."

'Fuck! Why can't god just strike me down right now.' Sy impulsively ripped out a piece of paper from his binder and wrote down his number.

"Here, I can recommend you some better novel. Just text me your preferences." Sy said coldly, trying to regain his composure.

"Really? Thank you!" The guy excitedly whispered as a group of student walked in. Sy took this chance to blend in with the crowd and leave when the guy was preoccupied with others.

'Ah fuck. If I ever met that dumbass author. I'm beating the shit out of him.'

--

As a university library worker, he seen a lot of things throughout his shifts. But he would never expect to find Peerless Cucumber reading the latest chapter in the library. Is it shame on him for posting it when he was working or shame on Cucumber for reading it in a public place.

He type in the phone number and saved it in his phone. His shift was about to end and he could fully plan out how to mess with Cucumber afterwards.

"Luo Binghe, you're free to go."

"Thanks" Luo Binghe, or more infamously known as Airplane, skipped out of the library while humming to himself.

[italiangirlcoresblog]

main masterlist \\ carlos masterlist

-----------------••✩🥞🌶💋✩••----------------

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐬 (𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭) 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝

✩ : an unplanned skiing accident got you a twisted ankle and a date with a certain handsome driver...

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. : carlos sainz

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : humor, fluff

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1,2k

✍︎ : this is vaguely inspired by @harrysfolklore's "little bitch" blurb, though i'm starting to think i imagined it because i can't find it anywhere now 🥲

-------------------------❦︎-------------------------

You really needed a holiday.

What you didn’t need was getting quite literally run over by some idiot who had cut your way on the slopes, sending you both tumbling in the snow.

You tripped over your own skis and landed not so gracefully on your face, your wrists and elbows hurting from trying to cushion the fall. For a moment, you just lay there, too shaken from the crash to get up despite the cold starting to bite into your skin.

That’s when you heard it, a pained groan coming from beside you.

“Mierda.”

Slowly turning your head, you were met with a sight that immediately made you jump up in your place: a man sprawled on his back, his hair tousled from the helmet that was now discarded a few feet away from him, blood trickling down his cheek from an injury right under his left eye.

And, to top it off, that man was none other than Carlos Sainz Jr.

Great.

“Shit. Are you alright?” You crawled towards him, probably looking ridiculous, but that wasn’t exactly your main concern at the moment. Also, you weren’t so sure you’d be able to stand up even if you tried.

“I think you stabbed me.” He didn’t sound… angry. He didn’t sound happy either, but hey, at least he was smiling.

Then his words settled in.

“What!?” You shrieked, looking down at the ski pole you were still holding on to and finding it — much to your horror — dripping with blood as well.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” You dropped the “weapon” to the ground like it had burned your hand, then rushed to Carlos’ side and started wiping his face with your glove. “I didn’t mean to–”

“Hey,” he stopped you, his grip on your arm gentle yet firm. “I’m fine, it’s just a scratch.” His eyes drifted down to where your leg was splayed, your ankle twisted at a clearly unnatural angle, before adding: “Are you okay?”

“I– yeah? Listen, we need to call someone. And you need a bandage. Or stitches. Maybe both.”

“Oi, calm down,” he interrupted you once again, sitting up to take a closer look at your ankle. He took it in his hand, giving it a careful squeeze that made you wince in pain as a burning sensation spread from there through your whole leg.

“Sorry. I think you broke it,” he flashed you an apologetic smile, a trace of guilt lacing his voice.

“I’ll live,” you shrugged it off, sounding a lot more nonchalant than how you actually felt. “But you–”

“Can you stop worrying about me? It’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad? I almost blinded a Formula 1 driver!”

Carlos blinked a few times, taken aback by your sudden outburst, then an amused smirk lit up his wounded face.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, now starting to getting a little annoyed by the whole situation — and by how ridiculously hot he looked with messy hair and blood smeared all over his cheek.

No, stop it, you sick woman.

“Is that the problem? That I’m an F1 driver?”

“Yes! No– I don’t know! I mean, am I going to jail for this?” You didn’t like the way he was just staring at you like you were the funniest thing he’d ever seen, almost as if he was trying his best not to burst out laughing in your face.

“You could get a fine, actually…”

The handful of snow you’d taken hit him right on the nose, drawing a surprised and almost betrayed curse from him.

“Ay! You said you were sorry!”

“I am sorry. That was an early medication — ice heals everything, you know.”

“Right.” Carlos glanced at you with a half-smile before shaking his head like a wet dog to dust off all the snowflakes trapped in his brown locks, then jumped to his feet and leaned down towards you once more.

“What are you–” You didn’t get to finish as he scooped you up in his arms without hesitation, one hand hooked under your thighs while he sneaked the other one around your waist. You instinctively secured yours on the back of his neck for support, but mostly to have something to ground you to reality.

You couldn’t believe this was actually happening — Carlos Sainz, the Formula 1 driver, was carrying you bridal style down a ski slope.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just ask for help instead of… doing whatever this is?”

Not that you minded, of course. You could basically feel his muscles tensing with every step he took, his breath fanning over your face, tingling against your freezing skin as he panted softly from the effort.

“I prefer to do things fast,” he huffed, and you rolled your eyes at his attempted joke.

The walk to the ski patrol station felt almost surreal, your laughs echoing through the clear air together with the crisp crunch of the snow Carlos walked on.

It was like you’d known each other forever, and when you rested your head on his shoulder, snuggling closer into his chest — “It’s cold,” you’d muttered, more to yourself than to him — you realized just how right it felt.

Lying in his arms like this, holding on to his broad shoulders, the warmth of his body seeping through the layers between you despite the bitter cold. Now that his face was so close to yours, you let your gaze wander over his features: sharp jaw and strong nose, both a striking contrast to his sweet doe eyes. And those full lips– Okay, stop. No thirsting over your accidental victim.

Unfortunately, it was all over too soon. Once you reached the first-aid area, a bunch of rescuers immediately surrounded you and took care of your swollen — but luckily not broken — ankle, while others patched up Carlos’ wound with a few stitches.

You felt a pang of guilt every time he flinched because of the needle, but the way he looked at you whenever he noticed you staring, with a mix of reassurance and concern for your own condition, was enough to make you forget about everything else.

When they finally left you alone, the Spaniard slipped into the seat beside you, a conspiring grin plastered on his face.

“I was thinking…”

“I’m scared,” you chuckled, trying your best to ignore his hand brushing lightly against yours.

God, get a grip.

“I’m really sorry, and I want to make it up to you.”

Neither of you said anything as your gaze got lost in chocolate one, mesmerized by his — unfairly — long lashes and the golden flecks scattered around his pupils.

Before your eyes could fall to his lips, because you knew they were about to, you cleared your throat and pulled slightly back to prevent from giving in to any sort of temptation.

“And?”

“Maybe I can buy you dinner tonight. Sounds good, no?”

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, not a single sound coming out as you processed his words.

Then, flashing him an amused smirk in a poor attempt to mask the blush that quickly painted your cheeks, you teased him.

“Are you asking me out?”

“I’m apologizing,” he insisted, leaning in closer with an intensity that made your head spin and your heart flutter. “So, what do you say?”

You jolted as his hand grazed yours again, definitely not by accident this time. You glanced down at where your fingers lay intertwined, then back up at his questioning eyes, your face probably redder than his old Ferrari as you smiled shyly.

“Smooth.”

-----------------••✩🥞🌶💋✩••----------------

©italiangirlcoresblog // do not copy, rewrite, or translate any of my work on any platforms

[writingsonsaturn]

all you had to do was stay

{ masterlist } { the 'taylor swift' series }

🪐 - the amount of re-writing i did for this one was crazy but hopefully you like a bit of this sadness

wc - 687

content warning: angst, break-up, emotional distress, mention of a death

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

To say you weren’t expecting Tim at your door at ten o’clock at night would have been an understatement.

He had called your relationship quits just short of two weeks ago, explaining the cliché of it being him and not you. Telling you he was sorry but simply couldn’t continue loving you. Your eyes stung at his words as you told him repeatedly to leave, to just get the fuck out, his over said apologizes ricocheting off your skin like a bullets hitting steel as you pushed him out the door and slammed it in his face.

You fell with your back against the door, you had felt as though your heart was ripped into halves and Tim took one side with him. You had a couple of sick days you haven't used up at work and decided then would be as good a time as ever. 

One full week of nothing but tears and the occasional contemplation of calling, or texting Tim but in the end deciding it wasn’t a healthy nor good option. However, you only allowed yourself one full week of sulking before moving on with your life, you didn’t want to fall into a pattern of bad habits. 

Although, some would argue forcing yourself only one week to grieve a long-term relationship is in itselfs, unhealthy.

So now after not properly dealing with the breakup and over-exhausting yourself with work, you were not pleased to see Tim. 

“What?’ you said in a harsh tone

“I needed to see you,” Tim explained with his voice on edge. 

You had to keep yourself from rolling your eyes and laughing humorlessly, “and why is that?” your voice clearly unimpressed. “It was a bad day at work, someone who looked exactly like you died and i just couldn’t get the thought of you out of my head” Tim finished with eyes red as rubies. The look in his eyes almost had you reeling him in, holding him to your chest and assuring him that you were okay.

Instead, your eyes only softened as you said “Tim i'm okay, but you need to go.” His heart was crushed hearing you say that, although he can’t say he didn’t deserve it. He destroyed you, with the only reason being he was too scared to fall in love again and besides telling you that, he shut you out. 

“Please, Y/n, can I crash here tonight” Tim nearly begged. He looked like he might soon be sick if you didn’t allow him in, but you couldn’t. After everything he did, and told you the night he broke up with you, you couldn’t accept him back in no matter how much he beggar or how much it hurt your heart to see him like this.

“This is so, so goddamn unfair Tim” you spoke with anger as tears appeared on your waterline, “this is what you wanted, and now yo-you think you can just come back when you need a ‘pick me up’?” you heard your heartbeat in your ears as you told him off.

“I know, I know baby-” Tim tried before you cut him off,

 “No, no you don’t get to fucking call me that, you ended it.”

The hope in his eyes dimmed out the moment he realized that it was, indeed, actually over. He did end it. All of this was because of him, your tears, your pain, every single thing, was his fault. There wasn’t anything he could do except sit there and take it.

“Listen, I had a long day too, so I need you to leave” you sighed out whilst rubbing between your eyes. Then, with one last look into your eyes, like he was searching for a reason to stay, yet all he could find was disdain and anger. So he stepped back saying a quiet “i'm sorry’ and walked away from your door with his hand on the back of his neck.

It seems like collapsing against an angry closed door was starting to become a recurring action, and you could only hope this would be the last time he showed up.  

[futurecorpse92]

Heatwave (Sylus affinity 125)

Sylus X Reader

I did change some parts to help the flow of the story, so I'm sorry if it's not similar.

I hurriedly made my way through the dark corridors, my footsteps echoing softly as I reached the door of a particular room. I entered without a sound, but it was no use—Sylus was a light sleeper. "Who is it?" His voice was rough, strained from sleep.

"Oh, it’s you," he muttered, glancing up at me from the bed. His eyes narrowed, irritation crossing his face. "I told them that no one was allowed in."

I hesitated for a moment but stepped closer, still cautious. "Some people are about to lose their jobs," he said, addressing the twins who were eavesdropping from the doorway.

I sighed, shaking my head. "Come on, Sylus. Don't be rude. They only let me in because I asked them to."

He grumbled, crossing his arms. "I don’t like how you’re covering for them," he mumbled, though the usual bite in his tone was absent.

He then motioned for me to sit beside him on the bed. "Clingy today, aren’t you, Mr. Sylus?" I teased, settling down next to him.

Without warning, Sylus shifted slightly, his gaze meeting mine with a flicker of something unspoken. "I want to use your lap as a pillow."

My brows furrowed in surprise. "Sylus, are you okay?" I asked, my voice laced with concern as he sat up, placing his head in my lap.

He ignored my question, instead settling comfortably against me. His body felt unusually warm, and I quickly ran my fingers through his damp hair, the familiar sensation of his sweat immediately alerting me.

"Sylus, are you sick?" I asked softly, worry creeping into my voice. He huffed in response, his lips curling into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"Am I sick?" he scoffed, his voice raspy. "I’m gravely ill, as one might say." He gestured weakly to his forehead, a faint chuckle escaping him.

I hesitated for a moment, then placed my hand against his forehead, startled by how hot he was. "Sylus, you’re burning up!" I exclaimed, my voice rising in alarm.

He chuckled again, but it was weak, and the sound was hollow. "It’s not that bad," he murmured, though the flush of his skin and the shallow breath he took told a different story.

"How long have you been sick? Why didn’t you tell me?" I asked, my voice sharp with concern.

Sylus shrugged, his expression unreadable. "Well, let’s just say it won’t be going away anytime soon," he replied vaguely, not offering much more than that.

He shifted slightly in my lap, his gaze softening as he observed me. "You look like you’re in deep thought, sweetie. Please, indulge me," he said with a teasing tone.

I hesitated, feeling the weight of his words, before stammering, "I-I thought you couldn’t get sick…"

The corners of his lips twitched into a wry smile, and he let out a rough chuckle.

I opened my mouth, ready to scold him, but I stopped when he raised his hand, silencing me. "Be quiet for a bit," he said, his voice a little softer now.

A comfortable silence stretched between us, and for a moment, I just focused on the steady rhythm of his breathing.

"Sylus, let's lie down properly," I suggested, my voice quiet but persistent. He nodded and slowly sat up, giving me the space to stand. I moved to the corner to remove my shoes, my movements careful not to disturb the calm.

Once I was done, I made my way back to the bed, and without thinking, I plopped down onto Sylus's body, my usual careless habit taking over.

He let out a low chuckle, his voice laced with playful sarcasm. "Why did you plop down on me like that? I could’ve died."

I rolled over onto the mattress, chuckling to myself, and settled more comfortably beside him. Sylus immediately turned toward me, pulling me into his arms with surprising ease. His face came dangerously close to my neck, and I felt his warm breath tickle my skin, sending a wave of heat rushing to my cheeks.

In the quiet, I absentmindedly ran my fingers through his hair,

The atmosphere was quiet and peaceful, until Sylus broke the silence by lightly grazing his teeth against the side of my neck. The sensation caught me off guard, and I instinctively pulled at his hair, my breath catching.

"Ow, be gentle," he teased, his voice playful, but it only made me huff in response.

I quickly reached up to touch his forehead, pushing back his bangs. The heat radiating from him hadn’t gone down at all. Concern tightened in my chest as I pulled away, instinctively distancing myself.

Sylus blinked, opening his eyes. He looked confused for a moment, and before I could fully react, I felt a magnetic pull dragging me back into his arms.

"I didn’t ask you to move your hands," he murmured, his tone more serious now, though there was still a hint of amusement.

I sighed, my worry deepening. "Sylus, you’re burning up. We need to take some medicine."

He scoffed, his defiance clear in his voice. "What are you talking about? I’m not taking that."

"What? Why not?" I asked, baffled, sitting up and turning the bedside lamp on to get a better look at him.

"It’s bitter," Sylus mumbled, looking away as though it were the most valid excuse in the world.

"But how will you get better if you don’t?" I insisted, reaching for the medicine on the bedside table.

"I don’t need to," he muttered, then added with a frown, "The lamp is too bright. Turn it off. You can see without it."

Listening to him, I reluctantly turned off the lamp. Sylus hummed in agreement, his arms pulling me back against him with a surprising amount of force.

"If you want me to get better, cool me down yourself," he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion. "Be my ice pack," he requested, snuggling closer, his body pressing into mine as he let out a soft, contented noise.

His warmth was overwhelming, and the way he buried himself into me made my heart flutter. Despite his teasing tone, I could tell how much he was relying on me in that moment, his usual strength seeming to slip away in his feverish state.

I was jolted awake by the soft sensation of a kiss against my neck, and I immediately felt my cheeks heat up. "Your neck’s warmer now that I kissed you," Sylus murmured, his voice low and teasing.

I could practically feel his smirk against my skin. "Your body’s getting hotter, are you also getting sick?" he said, the amusement clear in his tone.

"N-no, it’s because of you," I stammered, flustered, not wanting to admit the real effect his words and proximity were having on me.

Sylus chuckled, the sound rich with mischief. "Don’t blame me—I’m the sick one here," he teased, and I huffed, lightly hitting his chest in mock frustration.

He let out a dramatic groan, one that was clearly fake. "Is this how you treat sick people?" he asked, though there was an edge of playfulness in his voice.

I rolled my eyes. "Hey! I was dragged into this, okay?" I snapped back, not willing to admit how worried I really was for him.

His lips brushed against my neck again, soft and warm, as he murmured, "You already said you’d take care of me, so my requests are reasonable enough."

I huffed, feeling a bit flustered and caught off guard. I didn't have a clever comeback to that. "Didn't you say you wanted to sleep, Sylus?" I asked, my voice teasing as I gave him a pointed look.

Sylus chuckled and nodded, his smile softening. "Yeah, you’re right. Let’s get some rest."

We fell into another comfortable silence, the quiet feeling peaceful, but of course, Sylus couldn't let it last.

"You’re not a very good ice pack," he said suddenly, breaking the stillness.

"What?" I replied, my voice tinged with surprise and clear offense. "Excuse me?"

"You didn’t cool me down—you only made things hotter," he replies, his tone dead serious.

"Excuse me, I’m not Elsa, and you’re going about this all wrong. You need to sweat it out," I snap back with a quick retort.

"Oh, really? Then why didn’t you tell me sooner?" he challenges.

"Hey, it's free cuddles—who’s gonna turn that down?" I reply with a grin.

He chuckles, clearly amused.

"Well, if I’m the one who needs to sweat it out, you’re the perfect person for the job—since you’re so hot," he says with a teasing grin.

I blink, caught off guard by his words.

"Are you talking about me?" I ask, trying to make sense of it.

"Of course I am, sweetie," he replies with a playful smirk. "You’re already sweating and all... wet."

I gulp, unsure if I heard that right. "Are we still talking about me?"

"Yeah, I’m talking about you, who else would I be talking about, sweetie?" he says with a mischievous look.

"B-but I’m not wet," I stammer, my voice betraying me like a question.

"Really? You think I’m lying?" He raises an eyebrow. "I can prove it to you right here, right now."

My face turns crimson. "Uh, n-no need, Sylus. It’s, uh, fine," I stutter, trying to regain some composure.

"Give me your hand, don’t be shy," he says, his voice low as filthy thoughts begin to invade my mind.

"When ice melts, it’s only natural to get wet," he adds with a teasing smirk.

"But sadly, my temperature still hasn’t gone down, even with all your moving around."

"I guess you're not as good at cooling me off as you thought."

"Sylus—" I start, but his breath brushes against my ear, cutting me off.

"Do you know the old saying?" he asks in that rough, alluring voice. "When an opportunity presents itself, you make the most of it."

He pauses for a moment, his tone dark and teasing. "So, until you've completely melted, I won’t stop."

[sturniololuvz]

pls do a fic of the sturniolos sister getting home drunk/high

yesss!!!! btw i made these triplets get mad at her so please don’t be mad , i just love me some good fighting 😏🩷

“What Were You Thinking?”

Sturniolos x sister reader

Warnings : drunk, yelling , confronting

The clock on the wall read 2:07 AM.

Nick, Matt, and Chris sat stiffly on the couch, their eyes glued to the front door. The room was eerily silent except for the occasional frustrated sigh from Matt or the way Chris’s foot tapped aggressively against the floor.

“She should’ve been home hours ago,” Nick muttered, running a hand through his hair. “She’s not answering her phone. What if something happened to her?”

Chris clenched his fists. “If she thinks she can just roll in here like nothing happened, she’s dead.”

Matt’s jaw tightened. “I don’t care what her excuse is. She had us worried sick.”

Just then, the doorknob rattled, followed by the sound of a clumsy shoulder hitting the door before it finally swung open.

Y/N stood in the doorway, her hair a mess, eyes half-lidded, and a sloppy grin on her face. She stumbled forward, barely managing to kick off her shoes.

“Heyyyy,” she slurred, waving at her brothers as if she hadn’t just walked into an ambush. “Wha—what are you guys doing up?”

The room was silent for a second.

Then, Chris shot up from the couch.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N?!” he yelled, his voice booming through the living room. “It’s two in the goddamn morning! Where the hell have you been?”

Y/N winced, rubbing her temple. “Shhhh, Chrissy, don’t yell… my head hurts.”

“Oh, your head hurts?” Matt snapped, standing up next. His face was red with anger. “We’ve been sitting here for hours, worrying about you, blowing up your phone, thinking you were in a ditch somewhere! And you just waltz in here drunk?”

Nick crossed his arms, his voice sharp but quieter. “Do you even realize how selfish this is?” He shook his head. “You didn’t text us, didn’t call, nothing. You didn’t even think about how we’d feel.”

Y/N waved them off lazily, stumbling towards the stairs. “You guys are overreacting. I was just… at a party. Having fun.”

Chris scoffed. “Fun?! You can’t even walk straight, Y/N! What if something happened to you? What if you got in a car with some asshole, or got hurt, or—or—”

“You could’ve died, Y/N!” Matt interrupted, his voice cracking with emotion. “And we wouldn’t have known until it was too late because you didn’t even bother to tell us where you were!”

Y/N groaned, rubbing her temples again. “Can you stop yelling? God, it’s not that big of a deal.”

Chris’s eyes darkened. “Not that big of a deal?” His voice dripped with disbelief. “You’re our little sister. We’re supposed to protect you! But we can’t if you don’t tell us where you are, if you don’t pick up your damn phone, if you just—”

He cut himself off, his hands shaking with anger.

Matt exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re grounded. I don’t care if you’re seventeen. You’re not going out for a long time.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You can’t ground me. I’m almost an adult.”

Nick’s eyes snapped to her. “Then act like one.” His voice was low, but the disappointment in it cut deeper than the yelling. “Adults don’t get wasted and ignore their family when they’re worried sick. You’re being reckless, Y/N.”

Y/N bit her lip, suddenly feeling the guilt sink in. The way they were looking at her—hurt, exhausted, furious—made her stomach twist.

Chris shook his head. “I can’t even look at you right now,” he muttered, storming off to his room.

Matt sighed, running a hand down his face before following Chris. “Go to bed, Y/N. We’ll deal with this in the morning.”

That left just Nick, who studied her carefully. “You scared us, Y/N,” he said softly, but his eyes were still filled with disappointment. “You really scared us.”

Y/N swallowed hard, suddenly feeling a lot smaller than before. “…I’m sorry.”

Nick nodded slightly, but it was clear he wasn’t ready to forgive her just yet. “Go to bed.”

She obeyed, dragging herself upstairs, her head spinning—not just from the alcohol, but from the reality of how badly she had messed up.

[wlwsoccerfics]

Dangerous Gym Session(Arsenal WomenXRussoReader)

Warnings: diabetes Type 1, struggles with Body image, b*llying, mental health struggles, Google translate used.

Summary: you play for Arsenal just like your sister older sister Lessi.a Gym Session doesn't go as planned.

You were in the Gym, feeling lightheaded & your body was hurting. you realized that your blood sugar was dropping way too late.

So you quickly had two juice boxes. Hoping that it would do the trick. Spoiler alert, it didn't help! Which was why you were lying on the floor of the Gym right now. Trying to get through the pain. Cause you felt really sick. The other girls walked into the Gym , Kyra was the first one to notice you on the floor. "Less! Y/n needs help!" She answered and ran over to you. Alessia right behind her. Quickly followed by the rest of the Team.

"y/n?!cosa c'è che non va?(What's wrong?)" She asked you. You whimpered softly.

"sono basso(i am low)!" You told her. Leah helped you to sit up while Alessia held her phone against your sensor, which showed her how low your blood sugar was. She quickly handed you two more juice boxes from her own bag. She always had some in there for you. Some other Girls from the team were watching with worry written across their faces.

Norah who was entering the gym just now saw you on the floor and ran over. Norah was your teammate and secret girlfriend. Norah was a Goalkeeper for the team. She joined Arsenal two years ago.

"Babe! What's wrong?" She asked and kneeled down in front of you.

"i might have overworked myself without noticing how bad my blood sugar was!" You admitted. Then you looked at the Team and their surprised faces. You and Norah never told anyone about your relationship.

"did you just call y/n Babe?" Katie asked trying to wrap her head around this. You took Norahs Hand, squeezing it gently.

"i knew it." Kyra said, she always thought there was something going on between you and Norah.

"she did. we are together for two months now! It's still really new so we didn't tell anyone." You replied.

"okay we can go back to that relationship later. but what do you mean? Like when will you start listening to your body? Not checking your blood sugar and not listening to your Pump going Off? Like that's dangerous. So why didn't you Check?"Alessia wanted to know. You were biting down on your bottom lip.

"i am sorry! I was just so focused on working out!" You told her. Which was kind of true. but also not. There were some comments about your weight and performance and none of the ones that stuck in your head were anything but terrible. You may be an adult and 22 years old but that didn't mean you were doing well with bullying.

"Babe, what's going on?" Norah asked cause she knew that was not the entire truth. Everyone could tell that there was more to the story and Katie somehow had the brilliant idea to Check under your social Media Posts. Reading all the comments talking about how you have put on some weight and that's probably why you are not as fit as you used to be.

"i think i know!" Katie told the Team and handed Norah her Phone, to show her the comments. Katie looked pissed. So did Norah.

"y/n, those comments are bullshit. and you are a diabetic. Having fluctuations in your weight is part of it. That doesn't change the fact that you are an amazing Athlete and your performance on the field is amazing! Don't let them get to you!" Katie told you. Alessia frowned when she was shown the comments as well.

"this Is what happened? You know you depend on checking your blood sugar. Your life literally depends on that in fact!" Alessia wanted to know. You looked away. Because If your sister didn't look stressed before she sure did now. Stressed and sad. Norah squeezed your hand gently.

"Baby you are perfect the way you are! You are an amazing Athlete and the people who write stuff like that are just Jealous of your talent." Norah told you and the others agreed. A few nodded their head in agreement. Some even spoke up.

"Imagine you starting to feel that way while Lifting weights. That's so dangerous,y/n!" Beth told you.

You look at your teammates and then at your Sister. "I am sorry Guys! Deep down i know all of this. But sometimes These comments still get to me! I am already talking to the therapists about it! So they know!" You explained to them. Referring to the therapists that are part of the staff at Arsenal.

"it's good that you are talking to them about it! But all of us still gonna keep an extra eye on you. more then we already did before! Cause we really care about you!" Caitlin replied.

"that's fair!" You admitted.

"non spaventarmi più così!(don't scare me like that again)" Your sister said.

" non lo farò(i won't)." You replied. Giving her a small smile. She hugged you and you hugged her back while Norah checked with her Phone how your blood sugar was. Which thankfully was going back to normal.

Practice finally started when Reneé showed up and Leah had informed her what just happened so she also kept an extra eye on you.

You felt quite lucky that the team was there for you and cared so much about you! You could always count on them. Which did help with your feelings.

[hungermakesmonsters]

Stolen Moments was sooooo damn goood. I came to shyly ask if there's a chance you could write a little piece about how and if they meet after returning to the US? 🥺

Of course I can!! Honestly, I might eventually have to turn this into a proper thing (maybe a mini-series??) because I really love this dynamic. Though I do feel like this little piece falls into the porn with the slightest hint of plot category 😅😅 (sorry not sorry?) but after a month or so without Billy, you can't exactly blame reader. 😅

Perfect Moments

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Fic Universe : follow on to Stolen Moments

Story Rating : M 

Warnings : [This is 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour.  

It was strange being home again.

It felt familiar but, at the same time, different. Like something was missing but you couldn't rightly say what. You felt like you were drifting, like you weren't quite real, like you hadn't come home at all.

So, when you returned back to the States to find a message waiting for you from a certain Lieutenant, asking you to meet him for a drink, you spent a few weeks deliberating.

You'd joked with him, told him you had no interest in some jarhead out in the real world but, honestly, you'd been scared. You hadn't wanted to build up some romantic idea of Billy Russo in your head, and you hadn't wanted to let yourself believe that there could ever be something real between you. It was easier to pretend it was just sex, that he had been horny and sick of looking to his own hand for gratification.

But the moment you saw him waiting at the bar for you, there was no denying or ignoring the fluttering of butterflies in your stomach.

He got off his stool to greet you with the sort of awkward hug that gave nothing away.

"Lieutenant," you said as the hug broke, taking a step back to look at him.

He looked better than he had the last time you'd seen him over six weeks ago (in your office on base in Kandahar, fucking you senseless on your desk), being home had brought some colour to his cheeks and he didn't look quite so haunted.

"Not anymore," Billy answered, returning to his seat. "I got out."

"Huh, always figured you as a lifer," you said, taking the seat beside him.

Over the first couple of drinks, you caught up, listening to him explain how he was starting his own business, and telling him about how you were going back to school to train to be a paramedic.

It was a strange conversation, the words felt like they didn't mean much, but the way he looked at you... it was like he was undressing you with his eyes and replaying every time that he'd fucked you.

By the fourth drink, the tension was starting to become palpable.

"So, did you reach a decision?" He asked, suddenly, cryptically.

"About what?"

"About whether you want to waste your time on a jarhead like me now you're home."

"What do you think I'm doing right now?" You answered playfully.

His eyes travelled down your body. "I think you're sitting there in that little dress waiting for me to take you home and give you what you've been missing."

"And what exactly do you think I've been missing?"

"Me," he said, daring to lean a little closer to you, close enough to kiss. He placed a hand on your bare thigh, fingertips just below the hem of your dress. "I bet you're already getting wet just thinking about how good I can make you feel."

He wasn't wrong, and it took all your restraint not to squirm and give away how right he was. Before you could think of some clever answer, his lips claimed yours, his tongue meeting yours in that familiar way that made your toes curl.

The kiss didn't last long, just long enough for Billy to prove his point, and when he pulled back, he knew you were on the hook.

His hand moved from your thigh to yours and he stood, not saying a word. You got up and let him lead you from the bar, out into the cold New York air. But it wasn't long until his hands and lips were on your again.

He led you to his car at the back of the parking lot, muttering promises between kisses that it wasn't far to his place, but it was already clear to you that he wouldn't make it that far.

Soon enough, you found yourself pressed back against his car, his body against yours, his hands reacquainting themselves with every dip and curve that he could get to over your dress. Your own hands quickly moved from gripping his shirt to pulling at his belt.

It was stupid, it was dangerous — but when wasn't it when it came to Billy?

The moment the button was popped and his zipper was down, you sank your hand into his underwear and gripped his cock, grinning against his lips at the sound he made.

Your sudden escalation had him following suit and, mere seconds later, his fingers were slipping between your thighs to touch you though your wet panties.

"Fuck, Doc, you're —"

You bit his lip, cutting him off. This wasn't the time to be playful. You needed him too much. And Billy got the message, loud and clear.

His fingers dipped beneath your panties, stirring between your folds, spreading your arousal up to your clit. You were so lost in his fingers, in the kiss, in him, that you didn't notice his other hand awkwardly pulling open the car door until he moved you.

Your feet shuffled as he took a step to the side, then you found yourself turned, pulled back against his chest. Billy didn't give you time to ask what he was doing before pushing you forward, bending you over the back seat of his car.

Fuck.

Glancing over your shoulder, you caught a near-feral look on his eyes and it made you want him more than you ever had before. You didn't care that you were in some dingy parking lot behind a bar, didn't care than anyone might stumble upon you both. You wanted Billy. You needed him.

You braced yourself on your elbows as he pushed up your dress and pulled your panties to the side. He hesitated only for a moment, listening to the stifled moan that escaped you as he dragged the tip of his cock through your folds.

But he didn't waste time, gripping your hip to hold you in place as he slid home. And that's what it felt like to have him inside of you again, it felt like home, like somewhere you both belonged.

Your face pressed against the soft leather seats as Billy started to move, giving you both what you'd been missing. You'd told yourself that it had been a silly fling, something to keep you sane when you were on deployment, but you could see now just how wrong you were.

And, from the way he was already groaning, you could tell Billy felt exactly the same way.

Every thrust of his hips sent a jolt through your whole body, reminding you that he was the only one who'd ever made you feel like this — he was the only one who could make you feel like this. No one else had ever made you feel like the world was ending, like you'd expire if you couldn't have just one second more.

Your thighs knocked awkwardly against the side of the seat and your legs trembled, barely able to hold your weight. It wasn't long until your arms gave beneath you and you all but collapsed over the back seat of his car, at his mercy and so incredibly glad of it.

It could have been seconds, minutes, hours — it didn't matter. The only thing you cared about were the sparks of pleasure he drew from you each and every time he buried his cock deep inside you.

And, with each slam of his hips, each moment of feeling gloriously full of him, you felt a familiar tension start to coil inside of you.

It had been so long, nothing had made you feel that way since him; not your fingers or even the vibrator that you'd relied upon for so many years before him.

Billy Russo had broken you. He'd ruined you.

Now, he was the only thing that could sate your longing.

"Lieutenant — Russo — Billy —" you gasped and moaned mindlessly before succumbing to the pressure.

You pressed your face against the soft leather to muffle your cries of ecstasy as you came undone, your body a trembling wreck beneath him. And, as you shuddered, you barely noticed him withdrawing, pulling out of your trembling pussy. You didn't notice much of anything until you were clumsily flipped over and pushed further into the car.

Then Billy was on top of you, his cock filling your still spasming pussy with ease.

Desperately, you tried to spread your legs, wanting him closer, deeper. Your hands clawed at his back through his sweater, pulling his body against yours as he continued to fuck you. At some point one of your legs ended up draped over the back of the seat, leaving you in the most debauched position you'd ever found yourself in. But you didn't care.

"Billy —"

Your hand slipped up his back to grip his hair, pulling him down and into an eager kiss, moaning as his tongue found yours again. He kissed you like a man possessed, like he was trying to dominate you from both ends, like he'd never have enough.

(He wouldn't and neither would you.)

And, again, you felt that coiling deep down inside you.

"Please, please, please," you whined against his lips, not sure what you were begging for. (More. Everything.)

He kept going, kept fucking you like he was the only man in the world who knew how. A sharp gasp spilled from you as he pushed your leg back and angled his hips to hit just the right spot inside of you. Then he hit it again, and by the third time, you were a goner.

This time as you started to come, you felt Billy let go, his thrusts turning awkward and clumsy and he groaned your name. He buried his face against your neck as his cock twitched and spilled inside you, hips giving gentle stilted movements as he emptied himself.

Then came the stillness, the quiet that was only filled by panted breaths.

Your fingers were still twisted in his hair, holding tight, and you had no intention of ever letting him go.

Minutes passed and he stayed inside you, his cock softening while his breathing slowed and levelled out.

You'd never had this before, you'd never been allowed to bask in the afterglow with him without fear of being discovered — admittedly, that fear was still present, but being caught fucking on a military base had worse punishments than the simple embarrassment of some random civilian finding you.

Billy didn't say anything, nor did he move.

"So much for taking your time with me," you said softly, hoping to break the strange tension that had descended.

He lifted his head and looked at you, managing a smile. "The night's young, Doc, and I'm just getting started."

"Good, 'cause I'm gonna need you to do that again," you said, letting out a laugh.

"You keep talking to me like that and I think I might fall in love with you."

[dedolubka]

I'm rereading some parts of the books for my fanfic and I just... I can't. Sorry, there will be quotes now. I will swear.

"I told Amarantha the name of that girl, thinking you’d invented it. I had no idea … I had no idea she’d send her cronies to retrieve Clare."

Rhysand was in Feyre's head, she was defenseless against him. He saw that the name was false, but he didn't see that it belonged to a real girl? How convenient! By the way, why the hell did you even tell Amaranta that Tamlin had a human girl living in his house? Could you hide it? Like... what?

"I found my way in with you. A way to defy Amarantha, to spread the seeds of hope to those who knew how to read the message [...] And a way to get back at Tamlin … To use him against Amarantha, yes, but … To get back at him for my mother and sister, and for … having you."

Rhysand wasn't just helping Feyre Under the Mountain - he was also very conveniently taking revenge on his enemy, including for the fact that he had the woman who should have gone to Rhysand.

"And that last night, when I found you two in the hall … I was jealous. I was jealous of him, and pissed off that he’d used that one shot of being unnoticed not to get you out, but to be with you, and …"

How was Tamlin supposed to get her out? How? He's a fucking hostage! His entire Court is being held hostage by a maniac! I'm so sick of Tamlin being blamed for not saving Feyre and getting her out of UtM. Why didn't Rhysand save Feyre? He had more opportunities to do it!

You know, I love Rhys from the first book. He had a lot of promise. He was an evil trickster. He did what he wanted and looked for a better place, even if it meant cozying up to Amarantha. He pissed off Tamlin because he thought it was fun. He's a liar, a manipulator... he's Fae, baby. What Rhysand has become is a pathetic shadow, sad and stupid.

RIP, Rhysand, you're nothing more than a joke now.

[sickly-qt]

Remy's Turn

Wow, look at that. It seems Remy has caught the bug... Different caretaker this time around. This isn't my best work and I didn't proofread this but I hope you all enjoy nonetheless.

~~

“Are you okay?” Finn asked, standing in the doorway of Remy’s office, his hands in his pockets.

Remy lifted his head from where it was laying on his desk. 

“No. What’s up?” He leaned back in his chair.

“The quarterly meeting is in a couple minutes.” Finn took his hand out of his pocket and gestured toward the conference room. “Uh, sorry. Did you say no, you weren’t okay?”

Remy pushed himself up from his desk, smoothing out his shirt and taking a breath as he tried to will his nausea to subside long enough to make it through this meeting. 

“Yeah, I feel awful. I caught whatever hell virus has been taking out everyone in my house one by one.” Remy took another breath and ran his hand through his hair. “Is everything okay with you by the way? You weren’t in on Tuesday.”

Finn shifted on his feet and put his hands back in his pockets, “Oh yeah, uh, Drew was in the hospital Monday night… We didn't get home until late and I wanted to make sure she was alright so I stayed home Tuesday. I know the timing wasn’t convenient with the quarterly stuff coming up but I just-”

“Don’t worry about it. I have 2 kids, I know family comes first. Drew’s okay though?”

“Yeah, Drew’s fine.” Finn ran his hand through his hair, “Everything’s okay.”

“That’s good, now let’s get this meeting out of the way so I can go home.”

Finn kept an eye on Remy as he talked through his presentation, swallowing hard at the end of his sentences. He put up a good front, Finn probably wouldn’t have even noticed the signs that he was sick if he hadn’t spoken to him before the meeting.

By the time Remy was finished with his part of the presentation, he felt horrible. His stomach was in knots and he was freezing, but there was sweat dripping down his back. Finn gave him a look when he sat back down and Remy ignored it, sitting back in his chair and taking a deep breath. The hard part was over, now he just had to sit and make it through the rest of the meeting. 

Finn was up, giving his presentation with his team when he noticed Remy quietly get up and leave the conference room. 

There was only about 15 minutes left in the meeting and no one else seemed to notice him leave with the back of his hand pressed to his mouth. 

By the end of the meeting Remy hadn’t returned, leaving a different partner to wrap up. When Finn finally left the conference room he swung by Remy’s office to find it empty. Next he went into the bathroom that was between the conference room and Remy’s office thinking that was the next most likely place to find him. 

“Remy? Are you in here?” He called quietly. He walked further into the bathroom and noticed that one out of the two stalls were closed. Finn grimaced as he heard a grating retch and the unmistakable sound of vomit splattering into the toilet. He sighed and knocked lightly on the stall door.

“You okay?” He waited a beat, and when he got no response other than a couple more productive heaves and some rough coughs he continued. “Can I get you anything? Water? Should I call Mila?”

There was still no response, but then the toilet flushed and the stall opened. Remy was pale and clammy and his dress shirt was sticking to him. 

“I’m alright.” He said unconvincingly, walking over to the sink and rinsing his mouth out before splashing water on his face.

“No offense or anything, but you look like you can barely stay on two feet.”

“Yeah, I have to go home.” Remy mumbled, closing his eyes and leaning heavily on the bathroom sink.

“Do you want me to call Mila to come get you? I can’t in good conscience let you drive home like this…”

Remy shook his head, “She’s still coming back from this… thing.” He gestured toward his stomach and then muffled a burp into his fist. “She probably went back to bed after taking Lee to school.”

“Then I’ll drive you home, you can’t drive yourself and you sure as hell can’t stay here.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.” 

“You’re not asking, I’m offering… well more like telling.”

Remy sighed, but eventually agreed to let Finn take him home. He returned briefly to his office to collect his things and shut everything down before telling his secretary to cancel everything for the rest of the day, and tomorrow as well. 

Finn was waiting for him down in the lobby, by the time Remy stepped out of the elevator his nausea was back in full force. Expelling a significant amount of his stomach contents, not offering him long lasting relief. 

“You’re not looking too hot.” Finn said as they walked out of the building. 

“Can we please not talk about it?”

They walked to Finn’s car in silence, stopping once on the way for Remy to projectile vomit into the gutter. 

“Alright, get it all out before you get into my car.” Finn said, patting Remy gently on the back and smiling awkwardly at the passerby. 

“I feel like now’s a great time to mention that I get wildly motion sick.” Remy said hoarsely. 

“Yeah, great.” 

Remy walked into his house and kicked off his shoes at the front door, shedding his tie and unbuttoning his shirt on his way upstairs. Mila was exactly where he thought she would be, tucked in bed, sleeping off the remains of her bug. He stripped his dress shirt and pants, changing into a clean t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants before collapsing into bed next to Mila.

“Mm, Remy? What are you doing home?” She said sleepily, rolling over to face him.

“Sick,” He mumbled. “I puked at work, Finn brought me home.

“I’m sorry, Love. Do you need anything?”

“Sleep.”

Right when Remy closed his eyes, his phone started ringing. He grabbed it off the table and answered it without looking at the caller ID.

“Hello? Remington Paxton.” 

“Hi, Mr. Paxton. This is the school nurse. Leah appears to have come down with the bug going around, she got sick after lunch. Could you come pick her up?”

His eyes opened and he sat up, “Uh, yeah. I’ll be right there.”

He hung up and fell back into his pillows, sighing heavily and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, “Fuck.”

“Everything okay?” Mila asked, lifting her head.

“I’m going to need to borrow your car.”

[i-reblog-shadow-the-hedgehog]

Too Much Time - if Shadow was never put into stasis.

Part 1 | > Part 2 < | Part 3

And we're back!! I'm deviating from the game storylines more here because I want to focus more on... well, not that. ALSO: there is a point where the year is said - but I don't want to give exact dates. So you get the last part of them filled with X's to give any dates possible with a 50 year gap :D

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

Shadow and Sonic ran all the way to the place he called "home." It was quite far away from the facility. How did Sonic end up there in the first place? So many questions piling up, and not enough answers. He wasn't even sure if his voice worked enough to ask anymore.

It was a nice looking village, built in the forest with trees all around. Houses were scattered all around on the ground and in the trees, with walkways between them all. He could hardly believe his eyes. An entire community, just like this. Technology and nature, co-existing together.

Sonic chuckled. "Never seen a forest village before? Don't worry, I'm sure we can find a place for you to call your own, here. Oh- right! We never finished introductions. Are you able to talk?"

He tried again to speak, only coming out with a broken and raspy "hhhh-hhhhhhh." It hurt to even try. He put a hand to his throat and shook his head, frowning.

"Hey, that's okay! Let's find my buddy Tails, he should have something for you to write on. His house is over here, c'mon!" Sonic walked him over to one of the bigger houses, the only one in sight with a giant metal door alongside the normal one. He knocked on the door. "Tails, you home? It's me!"

The door slammed open. An orange, two-tailed fox stood there with tears in his eyes. "Sonic, where have you been?! You said you'd only be gone for a couple of hours! It's been an entire week!"

Sonic wore a smile - the kind one might have if they were in trouble. "Hey, hey, buddy, I'm sorry! I kinda got caught up with a few things... but look, I'm here now, and I'm okay! I had some help from a new friend," he said, nodding at the new friend as he waved awkwardly. "I think it would've taken a lot longer if he wasn't there. Oh! Speaking of, do you have something to write on? I think he can't talk."

Tails sniffles, wiping his tears away. "O-oh, yeah I do. Come on in!" He waved them inside, and his house was massive. He could swear it was bigger than the outside looked like it could be. Tails handed him a pen and notepad, smiling somewhat sheepishly. "You should learn sign language to communicate more easily in the future, but for now this should work! Go ahead and keep it, I've got plenty."

This got Sonic to rush over, from wherever he'd gone. Shadow didn't even notice until he came back. "Oh, oh! Can you tell us your name now?

Taking the notepad and pencil without another look, he wrote, “Shadow. Been gone long time. What year is it?”

Tails grimaces. This can't be good. Shadow wasn't there for that long, right? ..... right? Tails wrung his hands around one of his tails before nervously saying, "It's 20XX."

His expression instantly grew serious, his ears flattening. ..... 20XX? The last time he saw a calendar, it was 19XX. The weight of realization hit Shadow all at once, making him falter. Sonic was quick to catch him, and helped him over to the couch.

"Easy there, buddy. You alright? Need some water?"

Shadow didn't respond, holding his head with a hand.

"Sonic, I think we should give him some time to process this," Tails suggests, turning to Shadow. "Will you be okay on the couch for now?" Shadow gave a small nod. "Okay. Then we're gonna leave you here for a little bit. Sonic, I need you to come with me for a checkup."

"What? Me?! I'm fine!" Sonic protested.

Tails rolls his eyes. "You were gone for an entire week, Sonic. I just want to make sure that you don't have any underlying sicknesses or anything. And I need you to tell me what happened."

"Ugh, fine..." Sonic follows Tails into another room across the house, leaving Shadow on the couch to process.

In the other room...

Sonic sits on a chair, kicking his legs impatiently. "I hate this part."

Tails shakes his head, grabbing some instruments. "Well, it's important that I examine you. I know I'm not a doctor, but I can at least pick up enough to know if you need one. Now, what happened?"

Sonic kicked back and got comfortable while Tails did his thing. "Well... you know how I told you I saw some drones that seemed suspiciously Eggman-style? They weren't even trying to go towards our home, though. So I figured maybe he was going after something else, which, y'know... that would be bad if it was some powerful doomsday crystal or something. So I followed them. I guess I must've gotten ambushed though, because the next thing I knew, I was waking up underwater. Except it wasn't water. I could still breathe."

Tails stopped and cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I was in some weird glass-cylinder-thing. It was barely wide enough to hold me, and I couldn't get up any speed or momentum to break it. It felt super weird. But then Shadow showed up a couple days later and broke me out! And now we're here, so it's all good!" He gave a thumbs-up and smile.

Tails threw up his arms. "Sonic, they put you in a stasis tube! Gah, you're so lucky Shadow was there! Do you remember anything other than that and escaping?"

"Uhhh... I think I felt a tiny pain in my arm while I was out, but it was barely noticeable. Like someone pinching me." Sonic rubs his nose.

Tails' ears droop. "Sonic.... I'm gonna have to do a couple more invasive tests now. I need to know what they did to you, and since you don't know..." Tails rummages through his drawers and gets a needle and syringe, which gets Sonic standing up on the chair.

"Oh, no! I don't need that! I told you, buddy, I'm fine!" Sonic crosses his arms.

Tails sighs. "I just need to draw a little bit of blood to test. And I'll need a quill, too. Just... sit back down, and it'll be over before you know it. Look, I'll even get some chili dogs for you after." That did it. Sonic sat back down and stretched out his arm, still trembling a bit behind the hero facade.

"Well, why didn't you say so? Draw away!"

........

........

Tails placed the blood and quill in his machines for testing. "Alright, that's going to examine everything automatically, and it'll be about an hour before it's done. Want to check back in on Shadow?"

"Sure! I want to make sure he's doing okay. Race you there!" Sonic disappears in the blink of an eye, getting a groan out of Tails.

"Sonic.... You know I can't ever keep up with you when you go that fast!" Tails follows after Sonic, stopping short when he sees Sonic standing over the couch, holding a piece of paper. "Sonic?"

"He's... gone. I only found this note on the couch." Sonic shows Tails the note.

"Unfinished business. Back tomorrow. - Shadow"

Sonic and Tails share a worried look between themselves.

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

Okay, why is writing so much more fun than I remember it being? I love color-coding things along the way too!

[soluversworld]

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

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

Words: 10000

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

(Reader is G.N)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course, you’re gonna complain.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As in that monster from…?”

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

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

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

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

Sol blinked, his mouth opening slightly in shock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You froze, not entirely sure how to respond.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Too long, apparently.

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

“Eyes on me!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This won’t be enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, you’re not. Not now, not ever.

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

And yet, it still wasn’t enough.

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright, we��re done for now,” you said, tucking the pencil into your bag.

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

You shook your head firmly. “Nope.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes widened. “Get the fuck out.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sup.

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

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

“Nothing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart shattered into a million pieces.

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

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

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

I’ll take this. For now.

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

Even if it killed you.

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

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

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

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

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

You turned and left.

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

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

Crowe: “Waiting for you outside the gate.”

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

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

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

I’m choosing Sol over Crowe.

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

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

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

It was painful, but there was no other choice.

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

You had to push Crowe away.

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

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

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

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

No one ever said love was easy.

It wasn’t just for that.

He’s watching, He’s always is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why was he so… excited?

Do you think…? No, it can’t be right.

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

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

Take his hand

TAKE HIS ARM

HAHAHHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA

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

And then, a solution hit you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How had it gotten this dark?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No shit sherlock!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart sank. He had already figured it out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why was I always thinking about him?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were too far gone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and to be peaceful with sol.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I need him. I need him so much…

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

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

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

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

Shit.

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

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

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

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

Done. That’s it. No more Crowe.

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

But then it happened.

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

SHIT.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not quite into parties,” Sol replied after a moment, his words calm but distant.

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

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

“Wait.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“If you’re coming, then I’m coming as well.”

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know. Do you?” he responded.

“I mean, it’s a costume party. Why not?” you replied, enthusiasm creeping into your tone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart skipped. You didn’t even hesitate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s not coming tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Say something… please,” you choked out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, Sol…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Time for a fresh start,” you whispered to yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[darl-ingfics]

Feveruary Day 5: "Could you just hold me?"

Fandom: Seventeen

Sickie: Seungkwan, Vernon, Dino (food poisoning)

Caregiver(s): Seventeen

Word Count: 1,362

Notes: A prequel-esque to Come Lean Your Back on Me. It's mentioned in passing in that fic.

It was a good idea, they said. It was going to be fun, they said. It was good for morale, they said. 

Well. It was three in the morning. And Hansol was curled up on the bathroom floor, waiting for death. He’d woken up over an hour ago to stabbing pain in his stomach, giving his sleep-addled brain about three seconds before he threw up the late night snacks Seungkwan and Chan had talked him into earlier. There were few things Hansol hated as much as throwing up, and throwing up in his own bed? Every time Hansol had a moment of peace on the bathroom floor, that exact thought shot back through his head, causing equal pain to whatever vengeance his stomach was currently pulling.

Speaking of vengeance, just as Hansol felt the tell-tale signs of bile creeping up his throat, he heard the door open. He didn’t get the chance to see who it was before he was leaning over the toilet again, completely floored that there was anything left in his stomach to vomit up. 

“Oh no…” A warm hand settled on his back, rubbing his spine soothingly. Hansol tensed slightly, but the spasm of his muscles from another wave of vomiting hid it well. Or the mystery member didn’t much care. 

The hand didn’t leave Hansol’s back until he coughing up a mouthful of spit, clearing his mouth of the disgustingness therein. He took a deep breath, let it go, and then let himself fall back against his caretaker. 

The hands enveloped him, one hand wrapping up to scratch at his bangs. “How you feeling, bud?” Wonwoo. 

Hansol groaned, rubbing at his cramping abdomen. “Like shit.”

“I can see that. How long have you felt like shit?”

“About an hour.” Hansol swallowed thickly, wincing at the unfortunate, lingering taste of sick in his mouth. “I’ve thrown up about four times already.” 

“Four? In an hour?” Wonwoo asked. He hadn’t stopped scratching Hansol’s head, and the younger man was thankful for that. “And you just started feeling like this?”

Hansol nodded. “Kwannie and Channie and I… we got some late night snacks and… I don’t think they agreed with me…”

Wonwoo moaned. “Please tell me you didn’t go to…”

“You know we did,” Hansol whined, tipping his head back in regret. 

“Oh, Sollie…” Wonwoo rested his cheek against Hansol’s head. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me too…” Hansol sniffled, eyes filling with tears against his will. He shoved the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I hate this.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” Wonwoo gave him a gentle squeeze, so as not to upset his body any more than it already was. Hansol would have to thank him for that later. “What’re the odds Kwannie and Chan are gonna wake up in this same situation?”

“High. We all ate the same things.”

“Fuck.”

“Fuck is right.”

*

Carats had often joked that Jeonghan was the ‘mom’ of Seventeen. Jeonghan usually took it in stride, playing into the fans’ role for him, because he did find it so easy to care for his members. Being an older brother was second nature to him. And he loved messing with Seungcheol and gettin him all flustered calling him ‘dad.’ 

Never had he felt more like a mom then when a very sheepish Chan slunk into his bedroom at four am and simply said, “Hyung, I threw up.” 

Jeonghan groaned, sniffled roughly (he’d been fighting a cold,) before sitting up. “Where?”

“My room…”

“In your bed?”

Chan shook his head. “No, I made it to the garbage can. But I don’t feel well…”

Jeonghan sighed, pushing himself up from his bed. “Think you’re gonna throw up again?”

“Probably?” Chan pressed his hands against his abdomen. “My stomach feels really… angry.” 

“Any other symptoms?” Jeonghan frowned as he pressed his wrist against Chan’s forehead. “You feel sweaty, but not hot.”

“Yeah, it’s just the stomach pain,” Chan replied. “I think…” He paused, swallowing. Jeonghan’s frown deepened. That wasn’t a swallow of nausea. No, he knew that kind of swallow; that was guilt. “I think it might be food poisoning.”

“And where, pray tell, did you contract food poisoning?” 

Chan sighed, shoulders deflating. “I had snacks from the bad place.”

“Channie…” Jeonghan whined, running his hands through his hair. He cleared his throat. “You know you can’t trust that convenience store!”

“I know, but it’s so close, and we were hungry…”

“We?!” Chan froze, eyes blown wide. It was as if he’d slapped a hand over his mouth. He’d been caught a second time, and even with a stuffy nose, Jeonghan could smell a lie like a bloodhound. “Lee Chan, who is we?”

“Um… me and…” Suddenly, Chan gagged, now actually slapping a hand over his mouth. Jeonghan instinctively dove for the garbage can next to his bed, shoving it under the younger man’s chin just in time for him to vomit again. Jeonghan carefully guided Chan to the floor, kneeling with him until he finally stopped gagging. Chan sobbed, and Jeonghan pulled the can from him before pulling the maknae against his chest. 

“It’s okay, honey, it’s okay,” Jeonghan soothed gently. “Hyung’s got you now.” 

*

By morning it was obvious to the whole group that their two youngest were unwell. Wonwoo had texted Seungcheol about Hansol, sheepishly admitted that someone would need to handle some unpleasant laundry. Seungcheol had then texted the whole group to be mindful that Hansol wasn’t feeling good. That message was followed with Jeonghan sharing that Chan was also under the weather. 

At that moment, Seokmin sighed, knowing exactly where this was going. He jumped out of bed, and hurried to Seungkwan’s room. He found his dear friend fighting for his life, tears streaked down his face as he held onto his stomach as if it were falling apart. 

Seokmin pouted sympathetically. “The convenience store curse?”

Seungkwan’s eyes filled with fresh tears. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’m not.” Seokmin hurried over to the bed, sweeping Seungkwan’s hair back. “Have you been sick?”

Seungkwan shook his head. “But it’s only a matter of time, isn’t it?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Seokmin knew it meant nothing; it was only a matter of time until Seungkwan’s body turned on him. The older vocalist rubbed at his friend’s shoulder. “Can I do anything for you?”

The look on Seungkwan’s face when he peered up at him was pure puppy dog. “Could you just hold me?”

How could Seokmin say no to that? 

*

It took 48 hours for them to be even remotely human again. 48 hours of tears, puking, and dehydration, all supervised by the careful eyes of their hyungs. 

Seungcheol got them out of schedules for two days, offering to cancel the third as well to give them another day of recovery. But all three had refused on account of their big concert coming up in a few days. Seungcheol also took the brunt of responsibility for carrying all three of them back to bed when they’d ended up somewhere else and too weak to get back. Wonwoo and Mingyu often stepped in too, providing the cuddles the sick member so desperately needed. 

Jeonghan spent the majority of those 48 hours orchestrating the rest of the team around the task of caring for their youngest brothers. He was never more efficient than when he was caring for his members, and everyone was happier for it. He seemed to know what was needed even before the sick members knew. Jun and Woozi were also very adept at providing for their brothers, always ready to grab medicine or water or anything that they could think of to help their friends. 

Joshua had been a big help too, soothing the worst post-fever dream ramblings and singing the youngest members to sleep, helping them ignore the pain for a while. Seokmin and Minghao were also go-to soothers, whispering sweet nothings during the stomach cramps and fever tears. 

It was a grueling 48 hours. But it was worth it to prove to their maknaes how much they were loved. And how stupid they were for trusting the convenience store snacks against their better judgement. 

[speaknow-sw]

Oh my evie.. I’m sick with the flu and would sure make me feel amazing if I could have a little Drabble of James taking care of reader while they’re sick?

In all realness I totally understand if you don’t have the time. I love you !!

it’s tiny but I hope you’ll get better 🫶🏻

James checks your forehead again, his brow furrowed in concern. "You're still burning up, baby. Let's get you back into bed and try to keep you hydrated, okay?"

He helps you stand up slowly, wrapping an arm around your waist to support you as you make your way back to the bedroom. Settling you gently onto the bed, he grabs a fresh glass of water and places it on the nightstand.

"I'll make you some more of that ginger tea. It'll help with the nausea and sore throat," he explains softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

James sits down on the edge of the bed, his hand resting on your shoulder as he looks at you with those warm, caring eyes. "I'm sorry you're feeling so miserable, sweetheart. I wish there was more I could do to make you feel better," he murmurs, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

He stands up and heads to the kitchen, putting the kettle on for the tea. While waiting, he thinks about how much he cares for you and how much it pains him to see you sick and suffering. He's determined to take the best care of you until you’re fully recovered.

Once the tea is ready, he returns to the bedroom and sits beside you again, helping you sit up enough to take a few sips. His other hand rests on your thigh, rubbing it soothingly.

"Slow and steady, love. Don't try to drink it too fast," he instructs gently, watching you intently to make sure you’re okay. "You're being so brave, baby. I'm really proud of you for fighting this."

He sets the glass down and cups your cheek, tilting your face towards him."You know I'm here for you, no matter what. I'll take care of you, sweetheart. You don't have to worry about anything else right now, just focus on getting better," James tells you tenderly, his thumb caressing you cheekbone.