unseenbuthere

[unseenbuthere]

Almost, Maybe, Us

Solivan Brugmansia x Fem! Reader

Content Warning(CW): Mild language & teasing banter, Romantic tension & physical affection, Light suggestiveness, Fluff, slight slow burn (not really)

Summary:

After weeks of teasing and unspoken tension, Solivan finally takes MC on a proper first date. Over dinner at a cozy restaurant, their usual banter gives way to something softer—confessions, quiet moments, and the undeniable pull between them. When Solivan walks MC home, the teasing continues, but beneath it lingers something real. A challenge, an invitation. And when MC finally closes the distance, meeting him in a slow, heated kiss, it's clear—this was never just a maybe.

Word Count: 1,500–1,700 words

Reading Time: Slow readers: (8–10 minutes)

Fast readers: (5–6 minutes)

Almost, Maybe, Us

It’s already January, and somehow, Solivan is still here.

MC doesn’t know when it started. The late-night arcade runs. The too-long glances. The way he always manages to be in the same place, the same time, with the same easy smirk like he planned it all along. Maybe he did. Maybe that’s just how he is.

They’re at a café today, tucked into the corner near the window where condensation clings to the glass, blurring the world outside. The city looks cold, but in here, it’s warm, the scent of espresso and cinnamon thick in the air.

MC stirs their drink absently, watching Solivan across the table. He’s scrolling through his phone, one hand curled around his mug, steam rising in soft tendrils. He hasn’t looked up in a while.

Which is fine. Totally fine.

MC shouldn’t care.

"You’re quiet today."

MC blinks, jolted out of their thoughts. Solivan’s looking at them now, head tilted, eyes sharp but amused. Like he knows something MC doesn’t.

"Not that you talk much anyway," he adds, lips twitching.

MC scoffs, rolling their eyes. "I talk plenty. You just don’t listen."

"Mmm." He hums, noncommittal, but his smirk deepens, and suddenly, MC is very aware of the way his fingers tap lightly against his mug, the way his gaze lingers just a beat too long.

It’s annoying. It’s nothing.

It’s everything.

They’ve been teetering on the edge of something for weeks now, maybe months. Solivan is always there, slipping into their space with effortless ease, a constant presence that never feels unwelcome but always feels deliberate.

And MC—MC doesn’t know what to do with that.

"You gonna stare at me all day, or did you have something to say?" Solivan teases, leaning forward slightly, elbows resting on the table.

MC feels heat creep up their neck and immediately looks away, focusing on the window. The blurred outline of the streetlights, the soft swirl of frost against the glass.

"You’re deflecting," Solivan says, and MC can hear the grin in his voice.

"I’m ignoring you," MC corrects.

"Sure." He takes a slow sip of his drink, watching them over the rim. "But you’re bad at it."

It’s so obnoxious, the way he always seems so sure of himself. But maybe what’s worse is that he’s not wrong.

MC exhales, fingers tightening around their cup. "Why are you still here?"

Solivan doesn’t answer right away. He tilts his head slightly, as if considering, then sets his mug down with a soft clink.

"You make it sound like I should’ve left."

"Most people would have."

"I’m not most people."

MC looks at him then. Really looks at him. The easy confidence in his posture, the way his fingers drum lightly against the table, the flicker of something unreadable in his gaze.

Solivan holds their stare, unblinking. Waiting.

And suddenly, the weight of it all—the months of lingering glances, the teasing, the way he never leaves—feels unbearably heavy.

MC swallows. "So why are you still here?"

Solivan leans back, stretching lazily, like the question doesn’t shake something deep beneath the surface.

"Dunno," he muses, but the smirk that follows is slow, deliberate. "Maybe I like watching you pretend you don’t like me."

MC’s heart stops.

And then, like the absolute menace he is, Solivan just grins, tilts his head, and adds—

"Almost as much as I like knowing you’ll eventually give in."

The worst part?

MC isn’t even sure he’s wrong.

---

MC swears they aren’t blushing.

They refuse to be blushing.

And yet, the warmth creeping up their neck betrays them, sinking into their skin like an awful, humiliating confession. Solivan sees it. Of course he does. His smirk deepens, sharp and knowing, like he’s just won a game MC didn’t realize they were playing.

MC huffs, grabbing their drink just to have something to do with their hands. "You’re insufferable."

Solivan hums, as if pleased by the comment. "You say that like it’s news."

"No, I say it like I’m regretting every life choice that led me to sitting here with you."

"Mm." He taps his fingers against the table, considering. "And yet, here we are."

God, he’s the worst.

MC doesn’t reply, choosing instead to take a slow sip of their drink and avoid his gaze entirely. Outside, the city hums with early evening traffic, headlights flashing through the frost-laced windows. Inside, the café is still warm, still soft-lit, the low murmur of other patrons blending into a steady backdrop of white noise.

They should leave.

They should.

And yet—

"You’re thinking too hard."

MC startles slightly as Solivan’s voice pulls them back. He’s still watching them, but something’s changed—his smirk is softer now, his expression less teasing, more thoughtful.

MC sets their cup down carefully. "That’s a dangerous assumption."

"Not really," he says, tilting his head. "I just know you."

The words are simple. Casual.

They shouldn’t make MC’s stomach twist the way they do.

Solivan exhales, stretching again before shifting in his seat, propping an elbow on the table. "Tell me what’s got you all moody, and I promise I won’t laugh."

MC narrows their eyes. "You’ll absolutely laugh."

"Only if it’s funny."

"Solivan."

He grins, unrepentant. "Fine, fine. I’ll be serious. Go ahead. Floor’s yours."

MC hesitates, fingers ghosting over the edge of their mug.

There’s a thousand things they could say. A thousand things they want to say. But they don’t know how to put any of them into words.

Because the truth is, they don’t understand why he’s still here. Why he keeps showing up. Why he teases and lingers and looks at them like that, like there’s something unspoken between them and he’s just waiting for them to catch up.

And maybe—maybe they’re afraid to ask.

Because what if the answer isn’t what they want?

MC exhales slowly, gaze dropping to the table. "It’s just… I don’t get you."

Solivan raises a brow. "Mm. Not the first time I’ve heard that."

"I’m serious."

"So am I."

MC groans, dragging a hand down their face. "God, you are so annoying."

"And yet, here we are," he repeats, voice smooth, teasing, just shy of fond.

MC lets their hand fall away, eyes narrowing. "Do you ever stop?"

Solivan pretends to consider, then shrugs. "Not when it’s fun."

"Unbelievable."

MC moves to stand, exasperation outweighing their patience, but before they can push their chair back, Solivan shifts, reaching out—

His fingers brush lightly over MC’s wrist, warm and fleeting, barely there but enough.

MC freezes.

And when they look up, Solivan’s expression has changed again.

The teasing edge is still there, but there’s something else now, something quieter, something… expectant.

He doesn’t say anything.

Doesn’t have to.

The moment stretches between them, fragile and weighty all at once.

MC could pull away.

They should.

But they don’t.

And Solivan, the absolute bastard, just smiles.

Like he already knows how this ends.

MC should pull away.

That would be the smart thing, the reasonable thing.

Instead, they stay frozen, caught between instinct and something softer, something dangerous. Solivan’s fingers rest lightly against their wrist, his touch barely there, but it roots them, keeps them tethered to this moment, to him.

And then, slow and deliberate, he moves his thumb in a small circle against their skin.

It’s ridiculous how something so simple can send a spark down MC’s spine, a quiet kind of warmth that has nothing to do with the café’s heater and everything to do with him.

Solivan watches them, expression unreadable but intent, like he’s waiting for something. A reaction. A push. A pull.

MC exhales, voice coming out quieter than they meant. "What are you doing?"

"What do you think?" he murmurs.

MC swallows. His grip is loose enough that they could pull away, walk out, pretend this moment never happened. But their pulse betrays them, a slow, steady drum against the warmth of his touch.

They aren’t running.

And Solivan notices.

Of course he does.

His smirk tilts just a little, edges softer now, something knowing in his gaze. His fingers shift, moving from their wrist to their palm, tracing absentminded patterns, like he’s testing how much he can get away with.

MC should tell him to stop.

Instead, they say, "You really don’t give up, do you?"

"Not when I want something."

His voice is low, amusement curling around the edges, but there’s something else beneath it, something heavier. MC feels it settle in their chest, a weight that’s been there for months, unspoken but felt.

And now—now it’s real.

MC doesn’t realize they’ve been holding their breath until Solivan’s fingers tighten, grounding them.

"Tell me to stop."

It’s not a challenge. Not a taunt. Just a quiet offering, the final chance to back out before they step over a line they can’t come back from.

MC exhales slowly, heart thrumming against their ribs.

"I don’t want you to."

The shift is immediate.

Solivan’s smirk melts into something else, something warmer, surer. He leans in slightly, just enough to erase whatever space was left between them, and MC suddenly realizes they’re gripping his hand just as much as he’s gripping theirs.

Then—

"Finally."

His voice is barely a murmur before he moves.

It’s not rushed, not eager, just easy, like this was always the next step, like they’ve done this a hundred times before. The press of his lips is warm, steady, a quiet confirmation of something neither of them had been brave enough to say out loud until now.

MC feels themselves exhale into it, something inside them loosening.

And when they pull back, just slightly, just enough to catch their breath, Solivan grins, thumb brushing against their palm like he knew this was inevitable.

"Took you long enough."

MC rolls their eyes, but they don’t let go.

They don’t want to.

And Solivan?

He never even tries.

---

Solivan doesn’t let go.

Not even when the café door chimes, signaling someone coming in, not even when MC shifts slightly, their fingers twitching in his grip like they’re considering pulling away. He just holds steady, thumb pressing against their palm, grounding, there.

MC lets out a slow breath, blinking at him. "You’re not letting go, are you?"

Solivan grins. "Nope."

It’s ridiculous. It’s so ridiculous, but MC doesn’t pull away.

And that’s how they end up leaving the café together, hands still linked like something out of a stupid rom-com, stepping into the biting January cold with the taste of coffee still lingering on their tongues.

The sun’s starting to set, painting the sky in streaks of orange and deep blue, but the wind nips at their faces, a sharp reminder that it’s still winter, no matter how warm MC feels.

Solivan’s hand is warm too.

"So," he drawls, giving their fingers a slight squeeze as they walk. "Are we gonna talk about it?"

MC huffs, breath fogging in the cold air. "Talk about what?"

Solivan raises a brow. "Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you."

MC kicks at a loose bit of ice on the sidewalk, watching it skitter ahead. "I don’t know. Maybe I want to be mysterious."

"Mysterious, huh?" His voice is teasing, but there’s a certain kind of patience in the way he says it, like he’s giving them time.

Which is annoying.

Because now MC has to say something.

They sigh, glancing at him. He’s watching them with that same easy confidence, like he knew this was coming, like he knew they’d end up here, walking side by side, fingers laced together like it’s nothing.

But it is something.

MC exhales. "I don’t know what you want me to say."

"Start with the truth."

MC bites the inside of their cheek. It’s so stupid that he’s making them say it, that he’s waiting for them to say it. But fine. Fine.

"I like you, okay?"

The words slip out in a rush, like they’ve been waiting to be spoken, like they needed to be spoken.

Solivan’s smirk doesn’t falter. If anything, it softens, shifts into something just a little smug, but mostly—warm.

"I know."

MC glares. "Then why’d you make me say it?"

"Because you needed to."

MC groans. "You’re insufferable."

"And yet," he says, grinning, "you like me anyway."

MC groans louder.

Solivan just laughs, swinging their hands slightly as they keep walking. "Guess that means I should take you on a real date, huh?"

MC blinks. "Wait, this wasn’t a date?"

"Nah." He smirks. "I can do better than a lukewarm coffee and existential staring out a window."

MC snorts, shaking their head. "God, I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?"

Solivan squeezes their fingers again, that same steady warmth still there.

"Nope."

And the worst part?

MC believes him.

---

MC isn’t nervous.

They refuse to be nervous.

And yet, as they stand outside the restaurant Solivan picked—a cozy, hole-in-the-wall place tucked between a bookstore and a record shop—their fingers twitch at their sides, resisting the urge to check their phone for the millionth time.

"You know, if you hesitate any longer, they might think you’re casing the place."

MC jolts, whipping around to find Solivan standing behind them, hands stuffed in his coat pockets, head tilted with that look—amused, knowing, like he expected this.

MC scowls. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to enjoy the show."

MC groans, dragging a hand down their face. "You’re the worst."

"And yet," he drawls, stepping closer, "you’re still here."

MC doesn’t have a comeback for that. Mostly because he’s right. Again.

Before they can overthink it, Solivan nods toward the door. "C’mon, before you talk yourself out of it."

MC huffs but follows, letting him hold the door open as they step inside. The restaurant is warm, the air thick with the scent of sizzling meat and spices. The hum of quiet conversations and clinking dishes fills the space, intimate but comfortable.

It’s… nice.

And, weirdly, so is this.

Solivan gestures to a booth in the back, letting MC slide in first before sitting across from them. The moment he’s settled, he leans forward, chin resting on his hand, watching them with that lazy smirk.

"So, tell me, what’s your biggest fear?"

MC blinks. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious. First date icebreaker. Let’s go."

MC squints at him. "You’re supposed to ask something normal, like, I don’t know, favorite movies or worst high school memories."

"Boring." He waves a hand. "I wanna know the real you. What keeps you up at night?"

"You, apparently."

Solivan snorts. "Flattered."

MC sighs, picking up the menu just to have something to do with their hands. "Fine. Dying alone, I guess."

Solivan hums, considering. "Bleak, but valid."

"And yours?"

"Mmm… probably accidentally sending a text meant for someone else and ruining my life in under five seconds."

MC stares. "That’s it? That’s your biggest fear?"

"Do you know how much damage a single misfired text can do?" Solivan leans in. "One wrong message and boom—reputation destroyed. Embarrassment permanent. Can’t come back from that."

MC shakes their head, trying not to laugh. "That’s ridiculous."

"Oh? You’ve never sent a risky text and immediately wanted to evaporate?"

MC opens their mouth, then closes it.

Solivan grins. "Thought so."

Before MC can argue, the waiter arrives to take their orders. They fall into easy conversation after that—teasing, bickering, slipping into the same comfortable rhythm they’ve always had, except now there’s something more.

Something in the way Solivan’s foot nudges against theirs under the table.

Something in the way MC catches him looking at them when he thinks they won’t notice.

Something in the way the check comes, and before MC can even think about grabbing it, Solivan slides his card onto the tray, quick, smooth, like it was never a question.

MC raises a brow. "So that’s how it is?"

"Obviously," he says, sliding out of the booth. "I’m trying to woo you."

MC snorts, standing. "God, don’t say woo."

Solivan grins, nudging them toward the exit. "What, too old-fashioned? Would you prefer I say rizz?"

MC groans. "You are so embarrassing."

"And yet—"

"Shut up."

Solivan just laughs, but it’s warm, light, settling into the space between them like something easy.

Outside, the city hums with the quiet lull of winter, streetlights flickering to life as they start walking, hands tucked into their pockets, shoulders brushing now and then.

For a while, neither of them speak.

Then, soft—

"This was nice," MC admits.

Solivan glances at them. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He hums, thoughtful, then—"Guess that means we should do it again."

MC exhales a quiet laugh. "Guess so."

Solivan bumps their shoulder lightly, smirk tilting just a little softer.

"Good."

And maybe, just maybe—

MC doesn’t mind the idea of more.

---

The walk back is easy.

Their hands brush more than once, neither of them mentioning it. The cold nips at their cheeks, but the warmth between them lingers, settled in the spaces where words aren’t needed.

Solivan walks MC to their door like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like he’s been doing this forever, like he plans to keep doing it.

"So," he drawls, leaning against the doorframe. "Rate my first date skills. Be honest, but not too honest—I am fragile."

MC scoffs. "Please. If you were fragile, you wouldn’t be standing here fishing for compliments."

"Caught me," he says, shameless.

MC pretends to consider. "Solid seven out of ten."

Solivan gasps, pressing a hand to his chest. "A seven? I paid for your food and everything."

"Yeah, but you also said ‘rizz’ unironically, so."

"Wow." He shakes his head. "Harsh critic."

MC bites back a grin. "You’ll survive."

Solivan hums, then tilts his head slightly. He’s close, not quite crowding, but enough that MC can feel the warmth radiating off him, enough that they’re suddenly aware of how much they don’t mind.

His gaze flickers, down to their mouth, back to their eyes.

"You know," he says, voice quieter now, "I’d have aimed for a ten if I thought I’d get a reward."

MC exhales a laugh, rolling their eyes. "So transparent."

"You love it."

And the worst part?

They do.

MC shakes their head, but their fingers twitch at their sides, resisting the urge to grab the collar of his coat and pull.

Solivan notices. Of course he does.

He lifts a hand, slow, deliberate, brushing his fingers lightly along their jaw, barely there but enough to make MC’s breath hitch.

"Tell me to stop," he murmurs.

He always does this. Always gives them an out.

MC doesn’t take it.

Instead, they lean in.

That’s all it takes.

Solivan meets them halfway, closing the distance with a kiss that starts slow, measured, a quiet test—until MC presses back, fingers curling in the fabric of his coat, and then it shifts.

He makes a quiet sound, something pleased, something warm, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. His hand slides down, settling at their waist, not pulling, just holding.

And god, it’s good.

It’s dizzying, the way he moves, the way he tastes, like coffee and something sweet he must’ve swiped off their plate when they weren’t looking.

MC sighs into it, letting themselves melt a little, just enough to feel the press of his grin against their lips, smug and so him.

"Finally," he murmurs when they pull back for air, voice rougher, breath warm against their skin.

MC huffs. "You keep saying that."

"Because it keeps being true."

They roll their eyes but don’t let go. Neither does he.

For a moment, they just stand there, the cold forgotten, the night stretching ahead of them, quiet and waiting.

Then—

"So," Solivan murmurs, smirking, "does this bump me up to at least an eight?"

MC groans. "Oh my god, shut up."

Solivan just laughs and kisses them again.

----

♡♡♡

[unseenbuthere]

Whispers in the Dark

Solivan Brugmansia x Fem! Reader

Content Warnings (CW): drugging, noncon! Explicit sexual content, vulgar language, BDSM themes, Dark content, SOMNOPHILIA!!!

MINORS DNI/DNR!!🔞

Word count:970

Read time: 5 minutes(fast readers)

8 minutes(slow readers)

The room was still, save for the occasional flicker of moonlight that spilled in through the cracks of the curtains. The air felt thick, almost charged, as though the world itself was holding its breath. Solivan watched from the shadows, a silent figure outside the window, the darkened silhouette barely noticeable against the night.

Earlier, in the quiet of the afternoon, he had come through the back door. No one had noticed. His steps had been careful, deliberate, the familiar surroundings a mere blur as he moved through the house. The juice. He’d seen her pour it for herself, but what she hadn’t known was that he'd already replaced it with something a little stronger, a little more subtle. The kind of thing that would make the rest of the evening slip away like a forgotten dream.

Now, she lay there, unaware. Her body curled slightly beneath the sheets, the soft glow of the moon casting delicate shadows over her form. He couldn’t help but notice how peaceful she seemed. How innocent. How unaware of the trap that had been set for her.

Solivan’s eyes roamed across the room, settling on the empty glass beside her bed, the faintest trace of orange still left inside. His heart raced. She had drunk it all, just as he’d planned. Just as she always did. She was already asleep, her breathing slow and steady, deep and undisturbed.

A shiver ran down his spine as he moved closer, stepping lightly across the floor. His heart hammered in his chest, excitement mingling with the guilt that always seemed to follow him after these moments. He had broken in before, but this time, something felt different. More intense. More charged. He had gotten what he wanted: she was completely under his control now.

With careful hands, Solivan adjusted the covers, pulling them back slightly to expose her skin, soft and pale in the dim light. Her scent hung in the air—faint but intoxicating—and he took a moment to savor it, to let the closeness of her body settle in his mind.

He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear, and let his fingers brush ever so lightly against her skin. There was no response, no sign that she felt anything. She was too far gone, too deep into whatever haze the juice had put her in.

For a moment, Solivan hesitated. His gaze lingered over her face, the way she slept so peacefully, so trustingly. It was almost too easy. The trust she had in him, the way she didn’t question his presence, it all felt like a game. One that he was determined to win.

He leaned down further, his lips grazing her skin with a tenderness that contrasted with the dark desires churning within him. It was a delicate balance between control and surrender, between her ignorance and his desire to make her his, in ways she wouldn’t remember, but he would.

The air between them thickened, and Solivan’s pulse raced as he continued his slow, calculated movements. The night was young, and he had all the time he needed.

Solivan, unable to resist any longer, starts to explore MC's soft vulnerable body with bold possessive touches. He caresses the curves of her body through the thin fabric of her nightgown. He traces the swell of her breasts, feeling her nipples harden beneath his touch. His fingers dip lower, skimming over her flat stomach, teasing along the waistband of her panties.

He can feel the heat emanating from her core, the way her body is starting to respond to his touch, even as she remains lost in drugged oblivion. It's intoxicating, knowing he has such power over her, such control.

Solivan's breathing grows heavier as his arousal builds. He hooks his finger into the waistband of her panties and starts to tug them down slowly, revealing more of her soft pale skin. His intentions clear, desires palpable. He lowers his head, his breath hot against her exposed flesh as he inhales her scent. The moonlight filters through the window at her nakedness, highlighting every dip and curve. Slowly, reverently, he parts her thighs, exposing her glistening sex. His fingers trail along her slit, feeling the wetness that's already gathered there. A low groan escapes him at the touch, his cock twitching in his loose sweatpants.

"Fuck so wet.. All this for me?"

He chuckles, circling her clit with the pad of his thumb, applying a teasing pressure. He slides one long finger inside her hot tight cunt, feeling her walls flutter around the intrusion. He pumps his finger in and out, with his free hand he starts to stroke his clothed erection. The room fills with the obscene sounds of her wetness and his grunts and groans. He pumps them harder, faster, his thumb rubbing her clit with intense pressure.

"The way you're dripping.. You can't hide how much you need this. How much you need me. Fuck pumpkin I love you.."

He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust of his fingers, burying them deep inside her. His other hand leaves his clothed cock, reaching up to roughly palm her breast, pinching and rolling her nipple between his fingers. He leans down, catching the hard peek in his mouth, sucking hard, grazing it with his teeth.

Solivan's hips start to grind against the bed, humping the mattress, seeking some friction for his aching cock. Her back arches slightly as she comes undone beneath his touch. Solivan dips his head down to catch her release on his tongue, lapping her juices like a starved man.

"Mmm.. You taste divine. I could get addicted to this sweet little cunt of yours. Ah.. Pumpkin.."

Solivan licks his fingers clean, standing over her. He sheds his clothes, his thick cock springing free hand as steel and leaking with pent up desire. He strokes himself a few times, admiring her prone form before moving to kneel between her parted thighs. He takes himself in hand, rubbing the swollen head of his member along her slick folds, coating himself in her arousal. A low groan escapes at the exquisite sensation.

Slowly he sinks into her, inch by inch as he let's her adjust. A shudder runs through him at the incredible feeling of her hot silken walls enveloping him. He savors the sensation before starting to move. Solivan sets a slow pace thrusting with deep strokes. Her eyebrows furrow, her body sensing the intrusion. A whimper escapes her parted lips as he rocks into her gently.

"Shh.. Baby it's okay.. It hurts I know, soon it'll feel good."

He caresses her cheek lovingly, leaning down to place a lingering kiss on her lips. The room fills with skin against skin and the creaking of the bed beneath them, the headboard rocking against the wall with each collision of their bodies. His kiss deepens, pace roughens as heat builds in his lower abdomen.

Solivan's thrusts become erratic, uncoordinated, his hips stuttering as he nears his peak.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum..Cumming!"

With a final thrust, he buries himself to the hilt. His cock throbs and pulses as he starts to unload, shooting thick ropes of hot cum deep into her sleeping form. He collapses beside her, watching as his cum starts to leak out around her well-used hole.

"Pumpkin.. Oh pumpkin. That felt so good. You felt so good.. Hah.. Ichabod can dream on.."

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

Rushed at the end if you couldn't tell😋

[unseenbuthere]

Master list:

Solivan x Fem! Reader

[unseenbuthere]

Torn by two Worlds

Solivan Brugmansia x Fem! Reader

Part 1 :https://www.tumblr.com/unseenbuthere/777430582863020032/the-price-of-trust-solivan-brugmansia-x-fem?source=share

Content Warning (CW):

Yandere themes, Mentions of physical violence, Possessiveness, Emotional manipulation, Abusive dynamics, Mild blood and injury descriptions, Emotional distress

MINORS DNI/DNR 🔞

Summary:

MC stands at the apartment door, torn between Solivan’s possessive grip and Crowe’s desperate plea. As Crowe calls from inside, injured and seeking help, Solivan warns of the consequences if MC chooses him. Now, MC must decide whether to return to Crowe or stay with Solivan.

Word Count: 720 words

Reading Time: 5 minutes(slow reader)

3 minutes(fast reader)

The world felt like it was spinning when you finally woke up. The oppressive silence of the room around you made your senses feel like they were drowning in a thick, suffocating fog. You tried to push yourself up, but your body was weighed down by an invisible force. Your limbs were sluggish, refusing to obey you, the drug still clouding your mind.

The room was still dimly lit, and the faint smell of food lingered in the air. You tried to focus, but your eyes fell on the figure sitting at the edge of your bed, his profile silhouetted against the soft glow from the window.

Solivan.

You tried to speak, but your mouth felt too dry to form words. The moment your gaze met his, his lips curled into a quiet smile, one that held too many secrets you weren’t sure you wanted to know.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice smooth like velvet. His red eyes gleamed, watching you closely, studying you as if you were some delicate object he was carefully inspecting.

You tried again, the strength returning to your voice, though it was weak. “What did you do… to Crowe?”

His smile didn’t falter, but something darker flickered in his eyes. “Crowe?” He laughed softly, almost condescendingly. “He’s just fine. Still unconscious...”

The memory of Crowe’s voice, calling your name, suddenly resurfaced. He had been worried—hadn’t he?

The thought made you sick.

Solivan reached out and gently cupped your cheek, his touch far too tender considering the circumstances. “You shouldn’t worry about him. You’re not going to need him anymore.” His thumb stroked your skin slowly. “I’m all you need now.”

Your heart raced as your mind screamed for an escape, but your body couldn’t react. The drug had you paralyzed, forcing you to lie there, vulnerable and at his mercy.

Solivan leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “I’ll take care of you, don’t worry. I’m the only one who truly understands you.”

The cold fear started to creep back into your chest.

“You’re mine now, MC,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “And I’ll never let anyone take you from me.”

A small shudder ran through you, but you couldn’t pull away. You were trapped—both physically and emotionally, caught in the tangled web of his obsession.

The room seemed to close in on you, the walls feeling smaller and smaller with each passing moment. His words echoed in your head like a constant reminder of the prison you had become.

“You don’t have to worry about anything anymore,” Solivan whispered, almost tenderly. “You’re safe here. With me.”

But deep down, you knew the truth. You were never safe. Not from him.

---

Your heart raced in your chest, every fiber of your being screaming at you to break free. The drug still clung to your mind, its fog not fully lifting, but you could feel the faintest spark of clarity, a small ember in the vast darkness. You couldn’t let him keep you here.

Solivan’s hand on your cheek, though gentle, felt like an iron chain. His words were honeyed, but they only made your stomach churn. He had been so careful, so patient, but you refused to let him own you.

There’s a way out. There has to be.

You swallowed, your throat painfully dry, but you forced your voice out, barely above a whisper. “I won’t… I won’t stay here.”

He smiled, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “You don’t get to decide that, MC. I’ve already made my choice.”

His grip on your cheek tightened, and for a moment, you thought you saw something flash across his face—a flicker of anger beneath the calm. That’s what you needed. You needed him to slip, just for a second.

With every ounce of willpower, you shifted your body, twisting beneath his hand, trying to break free. Your limbs felt like they weighed a thousand pounds, but you managed to inch your leg toward the edge of the bed, trying to push yourself up, but Solivan’s sharp eyes never left you.

Before you could even fully rise, his grip was at your wrist, pulling you back down with effortless strength. “Not so fast.”

You gasped as he leaned over you, pressing you back into the bed. His breath was hot against your neck. “You really think you can escape?” His voice was low, amused. “You’re not getting away. Not from me.”

Desperation surged through you. I need to get up. I need to get out.

With a frantic burst of energy, you managed to twist your body away from him, sending a knee into his side. He grunted, but his grip on your wrist tightened in retaliation. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

But the words only fueled your defiance. You were suffocating in this apartment, trapped by his presence. There was no room for hesitation anymore. Your survival instinct kicked in, and you fought back harder, using whatever strength you could muster to break free.

“You can’t keep me here!” you shouted, your voice hoarse but filled with raw determination.

His expression didn’t change, but his eyes darkened, the flicker of annoyance now fully visible. “You really think you have a choice?”

His hand shot out to grab your arm, but this time, your knee landed in his stomach. His breath whooshed out, and for a split second, you had the upper hand. You shoved him off you with all the strength you had left, scrambling to get away from the bed.

You barely made it to the edge before he was back on his feet, his eyes blazing with fury. “You’re being stubborn, MC,” he growled. “But I’ll make you see reason.”

Your mind raced. You had to get out of the apartment. You couldn’t let him keep you here, under his control. You reached for the door, your hand fumbling for the handle, but Solivan was faster. He caught your wrist again, pulling you away from the door with brutal force.

“You really think you can leave?” he sneered, his grip tightening. “Where will you go, huh? Out there? To people who don’t care about you?”

You twisted, fighting against him. “I don’t need anyone else. Just get off me!”

Solivan’s expression darkened, and for a moment, the mask of tenderness slipped. His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “You’ll never leave me, MC. You’re mine. Only mine.”

You felt a surge of panic. His words rang through your head, a constant reminder of the trap you were caught in. And yet, something inside you refused to submit.

With a sudden, sharp movement, you elbowed him in the ribs, your last-ditch effort. Solivan staggered back, momentarily off balance. This time, you didn’t hesitate. You rushed for the door, throwing it open in a desperate bid for freedom.

But as soon as you crossed the threshold, you were met with the harsh reality that you weren’t in the clear yet. The hallway outside was dark, silent—empty. Where were you going to run?

You turned to look back at the door, only to find Solivan already there, standing in the doorway with a slow, dangerous smile curling at his lips.

“You can run,” he said, his voice a low threat, “but you can’t hide from me.”

Your pulse thundered in your ears as you backed away, heart pounding in your chest. The fear was suffocating, but the desire for freedom was stronger.

Solivan took one step forward. Then another. “You’ll learn, MC. You’ll learn to accept what I’m giving you.”

And in that moment, you knew: No matter how hard you fought, there was no escaping him. Not now.

---

You didn’t know how long you’d been in the hallway, backed into a corner with Solivan closing the distance. The fear you’d felt just moments ago was still there, but now something else was beginning to creep in—a quiet, gnawing sense of confusion.

Solivan wasn’t letting you escape. You could feel the weight of his presence, his every move like a magnetic force pulling you back to him. Your chest tightened, your thoughts jumbled, torn between the urge to run and the strange, undeniable draw toward him.

Solivan stood only a few feet away now, his gaze never wavering, as if he could see right through your resistance. “You think you can run from me, MC?” he murmured, voice thick with something darker than before, something more possessive. “You can’t escape what we are. What you are.”

You should have felt anger, or at least fear. You should have fought harder, run faster, but instead, something about the way he spoke, the way he looked at you, began to stir a strange warmth deep inside. His voice wasn’t just a command anymore—it was almost comforting, as though it promised safety in a world that had become overwhelming.

“No one will take you from me,” he continued, stepping closer. His hand reached out, fingers brushing your arm in a way that felt almost tender. “I can give you everything. All the love, all the attention you’ve ever wanted. You’ll never have to worry again.”

His words, the way he said them with such conviction, planted a seed in your mind. Maybe it wasn’t so bad. Maybe he was right.

You felt your walls crumble, piece by piece. Why fight him? Why run? The warmth in his voice, the careful attention to your every movement, seemed like something you’d never had before. Something… intimate.

“Solivan…” you whispered, the name tasting different on your tongue, unfamiliar but oddly comforting. “Why are you doing this?”

He paused, his red eyes softening. “Because I love you, MC. Because no one else will ever love you the way I do.”

You wanted to pull away, to tell him he was wrong, that you were just a prisoner in his twisted game, but the words wouldn’t come. They stuck in your throat, caught by something you couldn’t explain.

His hand cupped your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek gently. “You can fight it all you want, but you’ll see. In time, you’ll understand. I’m the only one who truly cares about you.”

There was something strangely soothing about his touch now. A sense of security in the way he held you, as if he could protect you from everything. The tension in your chest eased, just a little, and the idea of being cared for, truly cared for, began to replace the fear with something else—something warm, almost tender.

“Let me take care of you, MC,” Solivan whispered, his lips grazing your forehead as he held you close. “I’ll make everything better. I’ll make you happy.”

You should have pushed him away, you knew you should. But there was a quiet, unsettling truth growing inside you. It felt right, his arms around you, his words in your ear.

You leaned into him, just slightly, your eyes closing. The fear was still there, buried deep beneath the surface, but it was no longer as suffocating. Instead, it was replaced by a strange, growing warmth. A warmth that came from knowing you were his.

For the first time, you didn’t resist. Instead, you felt a hesitant flicker of affection in return. Maybe it was the way he always seemed to know what you needed before you did. Maybe it was the way he could calm the chaos in your mind with just a word. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because you were beginning to realize that you needed him, too.

Solivan pulled away slightly, his fingers under your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his. “Do you trust me?”

You hesitated for a moment, but the answer that came out of your mouth was softer than you’d intended. “Yes.”

He smiled then, a small, satisfied curl of his lips. “Good. We’re going to be so happy together, MC.”

And somehow, in that moment, you believed him.

---

You both stood outside the apartment door, the events of the past hour fresh in your mind. But now, as you leaned against the wall, a nagging feeling tugged at you. It was wrong. You knew it deep down, but the confusion of the night before had left you unable to process everything clearly.

Suddenly, you heard movement inside the apartment. It was faint at first, but unmistakable—the sound of shuffling footsteps, then a groan.

“MC?” Crowe’s voice came through the door, strained but filled with unmistakable concern. “MC, where are you?”

The familiar tone of his voice sent a shock through your chest. You couldn’t help it. The sound of his concern, his desperation—it stirred something deep inside you. Crowe had always been there for you, even when things were difficult. His care for you was genuine, without all the... darkness that Solivan brought.

You hesitated, unsure of what to do next. The door in front of you seemed like the only barrier between the two worlds you were being pulled between—Crowe, the person who had been there for you, who had never hurt you, and Solivan, whose possessive love felt so much more dangerous but also strangely... comforting.

You pressed your palm against the door, eyes closed for a moment, as Crowe’s voice echoed again. “MC? Please… I don’t know what happened. But you need to let me in. I need to make sure you’re okay.” His voice cracked at the last word, filled with pain and worry.

Your heart sank. The memory of Crowe, bruised and battered, his cheek cut, wrists marked from where Solivan had restrained him, flashed in your mind. He’d come to help you, to protect you, and Solivan had hurt him. He’d knocked him out, left him unconscious on the floor, but Crowe had still made his way back to you, just to make sure you were safe.

A surge of guilt washed over you. You had let Solivan keep you here, trapped in his world, and now Crowe was on the other side of that door, hurting, confused, and just wanting to be there for you.

You took a step back, heart racing as your thoughts swirled. I can’t just ignore him. You turned toward the door, your hand gripping the handle. But before you could pull it open, Solivan’s voice sounded, cold and firm, right behind you.

“Don’t.”

You froze, feeling his presence like an iron weight pressing down on you. Solivan’s tone was commanding, dangerous. “You know what will happen if you open that door, MC.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Solivan stood there, eyes flashing with something darker than before, his hand resting casually on the doorframe, as though he’d been waiting for this exact moment.

“If you open that door, you’ll be stepping back into his world,” Solivan continued, voice soft but laced with a threatening undercurrent. “He doesn’t care about you the way I do. He’ll hurt you again, and I won’t let you go through that. Not again.”

You could feel his grip on your wrist tightening, the warmth of his hand burning against your skin. It was suffocating, his possessiveness crawling under your skin, but the thought of Crowe on the other side of the door, injured and vulnerable, made your heart race.

You knew what Crowe was asking of you. You knew that if you opened the door, you could go back to him, to the life you had before all of this madness. But Solivan’s words haunted you. He wasn’t wrong. Crowe had hurt you in the past, even if it was unintentional. And Solivan—his love was dark, twisted, suffocating, but it felt like it was all you had left.

The door shook slightly under Crowe’s weight as he knocked again. “Please, MC. I just want to make sure you’re okay. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for what happened. I never should’ve let you get caught up with them. But I’m here now.”

The sincerity in his voice made your stomach twist. He wasn’t giving up. Not on you.

Solivan’s grip tightened, his voice a low warning. “You belong with me, MC. Don’t let him take you away. Not after everything I’ve done for you.”

You could hear Crowe’s voice crack again, full of raw emotion. “Please, just let me help you.”

A tear escaped your eye, rolling down your cheek as the reality of the situation hit you. You were so torn. Solivan had pulled you into his world, promised you safety, but at what cost? What was left of you, of your own will? And Crowe—he was on the other side of the door, still caring for you, still willing to fight for you, even after everything that had happened.

Your hand hovered over the door handle once more.

Could you walk away from Solivan’s suffocating love? Could you break free and choose Crowe, the person who had always cared for you, even when it was hard?

It felt like an impossible choice. But in the end, the decision would have to be made.

--------

No part 3:)

[unseenbuthere]

The Price of Trust

Solivan Brugmansia x Fem! Reader

Content Warnings (CW):

Yandere themes, Drugging/Non-consensual drug use, Possessiveness, Intense psychological manipulation, Mild violence, Unwanted control, Disturbing interactions, Abuse of trust

MINORS DNI/DNR 🔞

Summary:

MC invites Solivan Brugmansia into their apartment after he injures himself. While they cook, the MC is drugged and becomes helpless. When Crowe arrives, Solivan subdues him, leaving him unconscious. Solivan then reassures the MC that they are now under his control, trapping them in his possessive grip.

Words Count:1, 700

Reading time: 10 minutes(slow reader)

7 minutes(fast reader)

Your apartment smelled like spices and warmth, the soft sizzle of something cooking filling the silence. You leaned against the doorway to the kitchen, arms crossed, watching as he moved with quiet precision.

Solivan Brugmansia.

He stood at your stove, sleeves rolled up, the cut on his arm bandaged from earlier. He hadn’t protested when you offered to clean him up, just stared at you with those unreadable red eyes before nodding. And now, here he was, cooking like he’d done it a thousand times in your kitchen, like he belonged here.

"Almost done," he said, glancing over his shoulder at you. His voice was smooth, calm. "Sit. You should eat while it’s hot."

You hesitated but eventually settled at the small dining table. The events of the day left a strange weight in your chest. You’d seen him hurt, blood dripping from a fresh wound, and before you could even think, you’d told him to come inside. He had looked surprised—just for a second—before following you in.

Now, a steaming plate was placed in front of you. "I made sure it’s something you like," he murmured, sliding into the chair across from you. His fingers curled around his own fork, but he wasn’t eating. Just watching.

Something in his stare made your stomach twist.

"You’re not eating?" you asked.

He tilted his head slightly. "I will. After you."

You frowned. "That’s weird."

He smiled—a small, barely-there thing. "It’s polite."

You sighed, deciding not to argue, and picked up your fork. The food looked fine. Smelled amazing, actually. One bite wouldn’t hurt.

But the moment you swallowed, a strange warmth spread through your body. Your limbs felt heavy. Your breath hitched.

The fork slipped from your fingers.

Your pulse pounded in your ears as you looked up at him. His red eyes were still on you, calm and unwavering, the faintest trace of something fond in them.

"I knew you'd let me in," he murmured. "You trust too easily."

Your vision blurred. The room swayed. You tried to stand, but your legs refused to obey.

His chair scraped against the floor as he stood and moved toward you, catching you before you could fall. His grip was firm—gentle, even—but there was something in the way he held you, something possessive.

"You should rest," he whispered against your temple. "I’ll take care of you now."

The last thing you saw was the soft smile on his lips, a quiet promise.

Mine.

And then, darkness.

...

A thick haze wrapped around your mind, muffling the world like a heavy blanket. You weren’t fully awake—not yet—but you could feel.

The warmth of a hand, fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against your skin.

The weight of a body near yours, close enough that you could hear the quiet rhythm of breathing.

Your limbs felt like lead, unresponsive, but your senses were sharp enough to recognize him.

You weren’t sure if you were dreaming or trapped in the space between consciousness and sleep. The drug had stolen your strength, leaving you helpless in a way that made something inside you crawl.

You tried to move. Nothing.

A soft sigh, almost pleased.

"You’re so warm," he murmured, his voice low, threading through the fog in your mind.

A touch—ghosting over your arm, your collarbone. Not rushed, not forceful. Exploring.

"You feel safe like this, don’t you?" he whispered, and even though you couldn’t see him, you could hear the smile in his voice. "No more running. No more pretending you don’t notice me watching."

His fingers brushed against your cheek, slow, reverent.

"You let me in," he continued, his breath warm against your skin. "And now, you can’t leave me."

The weight of his presence surrounded you, a predator lingering over something already caught.

A pause. Silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken meaning.

Then, a whisper—so soft it barely reached your ears.

"Mine."

Your body refused to respond. But inside, panic clawed at your ribs.

And still, beneath it all, was the worst part.

A part of you that wondered—

If you’d ever really wanted to run.

---

The distant sound of a phone vibrating cut through the fog in your mind. The persistent buzz rattled against the nightstand, each vibration pulling you closer to wakefulness.

A hand—his hand—moved away from your skin, and for a brief moment, you felt the absence of warmth.

A sigh.

The bed dipped as he shifted.

You couldn’t move, not yet, but you could hear. The quiet rustle of fabric. The soft exhale as he glanced toward the phone.

Then, the ringing stopped. Silence.

Until—

A sharp, insistent knock at the door.

Your heart stuttered in your chest.

"MC?!"

Crowe.

The drug in your system dulled your ability to react, but the tension in the air sharpened. Solivan—he went still beside you, his body coiled like a spring.

Another knock. Louder this time.

"I know you're home," Crowe's voice was tighter now, laced with concern. "You never ignore my calls. Open up."

You tried—really tried—to move, but your limbs were sluggish, barely responding. A quiet noise slipped past your lips, more of a breath than a word, but it was enough for him to notice.

A hand cupped your cheek, tilting your face toward him. His red eyes burned in the dim light, unreadable, unreadable, unreadable.

"Shh," he murmured, his thumb stroking along your skin. "Don’t worry about him. He’ll leave."

Another knock.

"MC, I'm serious. If you don’t open up, I’m coming in."

For the first time, he frowned.

A moment passed.

Then, with a quiet, measured sigh, he pulled away from you completely. You felt the shift in the air, the weight of him leaving the bed. The sound of footsteps—soft, deliberate—moving toward the door.

A lock clicking.

A door creaking open just enough for a sliver of space.

"MC is sleeping," his voice was even, calm, but with a quiet edge. "You’re being loud."

A beat of silence.

Then, Crowe’s voice, sharper now. "Who are you?"

You couldn’t see what was happening. Could barely even lift your head. But the tension thickened, pressing against your ribs like a vice.

"MC isn’t answering me," Crowe continued, suspicion bleeding into his tone. "That’s not normal. Let me see them."

A pause.

Then—

A click. The door locking again.

A voice, closer now.

"Looks like we have a problem."

You barely had time to process before the bed dipped again, and warmth surrounded you once more. A hand brushing through your hair, slow and patient.

His breath against your temple.

"I didn’t want to be interrupted," he murmured, almost disappointed. "But I guess I’ll have to deal with him first."

The last thing you heard was Crowe’s voice—muffled, distant—before everything faded again.

---

The haze in your mind was starting to lift, but your body still felt heavy—too heavy. It was like swimming through thick, dark water, trying to reach the surface but never quite breaking through.

The last thing you remembered clearly was Crowe. His voice. His knocking. The threat of something outside this room that he wasn’t afraid to face.

But now—silence.

Except for the soft hum of breathing nearby.

Fingers brushed against your cheek, a slow, deliberate caress. “You’re awake,” he murmured. “That’s good.”

You forced your eyes open. The dim light in your apartment blurred for a moment before settling into something clearer. Your bed. Him.

And then—

A shape.

A figure slumped against the far wall.

Your breath caught. Even through the drug’s lingering weight, a sharp, animal instinct of wrongness crawled up your spine.

Crowe.

His head was tilted downward, chin resting against his chest like a puppet with cut strings. His arms hung limply at his sides, and his legs were stretched out in front of him.

For a horrible, sickening second, you thought—no, no, no—

A quiet chuckle brought you back.

“He’s not dead,” Sol murmured, red eyes watching yours carefully, gauging your reaction. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

You swallowed, your throat painfully dry.

He tilted his head slightly, as if amused. “I just made sure he wouldn’t get in the way.”

Your gaze flickered to Crowe again. Now that the panic was fading, you noticed the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest. He was breathing.

But his arms—there were dark bruises forming around his wrists. A thin cut along his cheek.

And the way his body slumped wasn’t natural.

You tried to speak, but your voice came out hoarse. “…What did you do?”

His fingers trailed along your arm, almost thoughtful. “He was stubborn,” he said softly. “He tried to push past me. So I had to stop him.”

Your breath hitched.

“There was a struggle,” he continued, almost lazily. “He fought hard. But in the end, he was too slow.”

You could see it now—how it must have happened.

Crowe pushing past him, trying to reach you. Sol moving faster, stronger than he looked. A sharp blow—disorienting. A hand gripping Crowe’s wrist too tight. Something—someone—dragging him to the ground, pinning him, keeping him still.

And then—whatever he did to make him stop moving.

Your stomach twisted violently.

Sol sighed, like he was discussing something mundane. “He should wake up in an hour or two.” His fingers brushed over your pulse, lingering there. “I could’ve made it permanent.”

The weight of that could have settled between you like a loaded gun.

“But,” he murmured, “I didn’t want to upset you.”

His lips barely curled into a smile.

“See how much I love you?”

Your body still refused to move, but inside, your heart pounded like a trapped animal.

Crowe was unconscious. Helpless. Just like you.

And you were trapped in a room with a monster who thought this was love.

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

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/unseenbuthere/777434912127172608/torn-by-two-worlds-solivan-brugmansia-x-fem?source=share