solivan and an openly affectionate reader... pt. 1
request: if you're taking requests, can i ask for reader with ren from 14dwy or sol from tkatb with a reader who' very open about liking them and can't ever say no to them?
(tl;dr, reader is an undere and deredere)
fluff & slight angst / sfw ! / mdni / x GN!reader / 2.3k words
a/n: i will also be doing ren sometime later bc i love both my boys <3 i also like diving deeper into the different types of yanderes they are ! this fic was lowk experimental with his character honestly, but i adore writing for sol and i def need to do it more frequently
sol had never been the type to demand a room’s attention, yet, he never failed to put his foot down to whoever he felt was dangerous. even now, months after you first met him, you still remembered that constant silence that seemed to relvole around him, a mysterious silence that he'd never let go.
it a gravity that drew you in before you even realized you were falling.
he didn’t notice you, not at first. unless, he did and simply chose not to show it.
you'd catch him glancing at you sometimes, pencil balanced with a tremble between his fingers. his eyes were always slightly hidden behind his dark bangs. he'd look away the moment your gaze met his, pretending to scribble something in the margins of his notes.
you’d always been the one to speak first. approach first, question first. it had always been you.
you liked the way he listened. the way he absorbed your words instead of filling the air with them. there was such an odd comfort in his stillness, a gentleness you didn’t often find in this city.
yet, the truth was, solivan brugmansia was lonely. not the kind of lonely that comes with solitude, but the kind that painfully roots itself deep in your chest. a quiet, suffocating feeling that bursts during every waking minute. he became numb to the realization, yet even when it did hit, it subsided the blow. it didn't hurt much anymore, because he met you.
you gave him light. simple, thoughtless, basic attention. you sat beside him, even when he got awkward and attempted to deny you. you asked about his favorite books, genuinely interested in what he had to say. you beamed when he'd lent you a few worn copies of some of his favorite novels, and laughed at his dry comments about how the characters within the bunch reminded him of people who loved to pretend to be interesting. you found yourself slightly stunned at his mention of meeting hundreds of people like that.
you didn’t think much of it when he remembered every little thing you said. your usual coffee order, specific to the one you'd purchased alongside his own when you first approached him in the library. the song you hummed while studying, sitting awfully close to his trembling body. the full government names of each of your friends individually, the reminders of questionable things they've done to you in the past, the physical reaction he'd manage whenever you mentioned your friend crowe, specifically.
the first time sol asked to walk you home, you said yes before he could even finish spitting out the words. there was something about the way he spoke that made refusal feel impossible. like it was physically difficult.
he smiled faintly when you accepted, though you could’ve sworn there was relief flickering under his calm. as though he hadn’t genuinely expected you to agree.
the day after you woke up from accidentaly falling asleep with his company over, you sent him a quick apology text before getting up to get ready for class. you felt awful, not only from just waking from your heavy sleep, but because you completely dozed off while he was in your apartment. yet, he was still kind enough to carry and tuck you into your comfortable sheets.
sol wasn’t intrusive. not at first. he was just present. not subtle in the slightest with his attentiveness, but gentle in the way he molded himself into your everyday life. he'd walk you home without question, carrying your bag without asking, insisting there's no place he'd rather be. he'd text to make sure you’d eaten, and gods forbid you ever said no quicker than him darting to your apartment with a fresh home-cooked meal made with his expert culinary skills. everything was sweet, innocent. your relationship was growing by the day, and you never missed an opportunity to spend time with sol. it was obvious he felt the same.
sometimes you were asked if his constant presense was bothersome by your friends, which you always leaped to defend solivan, repeating that he could never be a bother.
when he softly smiled and quietly spoke to you, he always looked at you as if he was analyzing the shape of your face. the various expressions you make throughout the day, the mannerisms you'd act whenever you were feeling a specific way. it's when the two found yourselves in comfortable silence that he'd whip out his familiar sketchbook and start frantically moving his pencil around the pages.
you told him once, half-joking, “i'd love to see whatever you're sketching one of these days, sunny.”
he tilted his head, expression unreadable. “eventually, ill show you when i have something worth showing.”
you smile softly, turning your head and letting out a puff of laughter. sol's gaze stayed glued to you.
your openness was a mercy to him. you were so honest and blunt with however you were feeling, you were quick to praise, quick to forgive. when he forgot his jacket at your place, you returned it the next day, neatly folded and freshly washed with a big smile on your face.
when he said he liked your handwriting, you began leaving little notes for him. reminders, inside jokes, doodles in the corners of his papers.
he kept every sliver of paper, sliver of your affection. cherished it, traced the lines with his fingertips along the marked on several of his papers.
he’d organized them in a box in his bedroom, arranged by date, edges flattened, your inked handwriting and doodles preserved under lamination.
you thought it was sweet. he thought it was eternal.
solivan changed in small ways. at least, to you. his calm deepened into something else, something heavy. when you spoke to or about others, his gaze lingered much longer than normal. his bright eyes always flickered with something unexplainable.
once, the both of you were sitting at a café, telling him about a friend’s upcoming trip abroad. you mentioned you’d miss them, that you might even visit one day. solivan’s eye twitched.
“would you?” he quietly asked, sipping at his drink.
“mmm, maybe. just for a week or two. not anytime soon though.”
he stirred his tea, the spoon scraping against the bottom of his cup.
“you'd come back.”
you nodded with a smile. “course i would. why wouldn’t i?”
he shrugs, repeatedly stirring his drink with a blank expression.
you instinctively reached for his hand. he's warm, warmer than usual.
“hey. it was just a thought." you speak lowly, caressing a thumb over the back of his hand. "i'd come back, that's even if i do go. don't stress about it.”
he stared for a moment longer, then exhaled softly. “i know you would.”
he softly curved his lips into a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes so easily. just a moment ago, the two of you were laughing and cracking jokes amongst each other. between your gasps for air at his blunt humor, the two of you were still deciding on what else to order, his treat. his demeanor changed so quickly, it nearly gave you whiplash.
he would never tell you how long he had ended up laying awake that night, imagining tens of ways to make sure you never wanted to leave in the first place. that you'd never even have the thought cross your mind again. everything is right here, everything you may need for the rest of your life. you're safe here, with him and his fierce gaze watching over you. why would you even consider leaving? to get away? to get away from him?
you made him a gift once, a small, clumsy bracelet made of thread and full of random charms. you had seen one like it in a market and thought he’d find it cute. it matched his alternative aesthetic, silver and green beads surrounding his wrist. when you handed it to him, you expected a laugh, a soft thank you.
instead, sol froze.
he turned the bracelet over in his hands, thumb brushing the uneven knots, the single bead you’d misthreaded near the clasp. his eyes softened in a way you've never seen before.
“you made this?” he questioned with a raise of his brow.
you nodded, a little shy. “haha, yeah. it's not much, but i thought it'd be cute-”
“i love it. a lot.” he clasps it in his hands, holding it close to hs chest. his eyes scan your face intensely.
you blinked, heart rate picking up slightly at his words. “what?”
he continued looking at you, and something in his expression was so raw, almost broken. “no one’s even considered doing something like this for me before.”
your heart clenched mid-beat as you slowly approach him with small steps. “sol, i'm sorry. i didn't mean to make it into such a big deal... but, i'm glad it means something to you.” you smile at him, carefully taking the bracelet out of his clentched hands.
rolling up his sleeve slightly, you ignore the rough, textured skin on his forearm as you place the bracelet in it's rightful place on his wrist.
"it's a piece of me given to you. i hope you wear it and think of me whenever you feel lonely." you smile, massaging his pulse with your warm hands. "i like it when you think about me when you need somebody."
suddenly, he reached forward, pulling you into a careful, trembling hug. his voice was quiet, muffled against your shoulder. “thank you.”
you give a giddy smile, touched by his sincerity, and let him hold you. you didn’t see the way his eyes closed, the way he sharply inhaled your scent. the way his grip tightened for half a second too long, like he was trying to memorize the shape of you beneath his hands.
that was the night he realized you weren’t just simply somebody he loved. you were something sacred. something that couldn’t, wouldn’t, must not be taken away.
there were days when he was almost normal. you'd go grocery shopping together, sit on the couch reading side by side, share quiet giggles. just enjoy each other's company whenever possible. he'd rest his head against your shoulder, you’d run your fingers through his hair, feeling the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing.
but sometimes, in the stillness, you’d catch him watching you, his expression distant, gaze unfocused.
“what're you thinking about?” you’d question while fiddling with his striped sleeve.
he'd blink, grin, and shake his head. “just you.”
“just me? sounds pretty lame.” you laugh, letting go of his arm.
he'd hum, leaning in closer than normal. “it's never "lame." nothing about you is boring.”
"that's interesting coming from such a mysterious man." you grin, suddenly raising your hand and adjusting his earring with a smile.
"it's alright, i like that. about you"
his cheeks flushed, and you thought it was sweet. that he was so sweet. you didn’t realize it was true. true that you were all he thought about.
he'd stopped thinking about anything else a long time ago.
one evening, you arrived at your favorite cafe the both of you agreed to meet at. you walked to the familiar building holding a new book you’d found just for him. an antique collection of poetry containing some of his favorite stand-alone pieces. of course, it was in a beautiful shade of green with black lettering, fitting his signature look even more.
he was sitting in his typical seat by the window when you walked through the noisy door of the cafe, back to the light. the room smelled faintly of fresh flowers and tea.
when you handed him the poetry, he didn’t move for a moment. just sat, eyes practically staring through the pages.
"a few of your faves are in there." you say, taking a small sip of his tangy tea. "plus it's green, thought it suited you perfectly. like it was made for you." you teased.
“you really shouldn’t have,” he murmured, cheeks flushing a slight red.
“i definitely had to. i mean, how could i not get it for you?” you gently tap him with your foot from under the table, encouraging him to look up at you before he stares a hole in the brand new addition in his growing collection.
his gaze flicked to you, eyes wide and bright. “you always give so freely.”
“that's noooot a bad thing.” you joke with a laugh.
“no.” he carefully opened the book, reverently. “it's just... every time you give me something new, it feels like i want to keep it forever.”
you smiled fondly at him. “that's... kind of the point, sunny.”
he peered up at you again, and the air between you seemed to shift, heavy and delicate at once.
“you don’t understand,” he said softly. “you could give me the smallest thing, and i'd never be able to let it go, pumpkin.”
you laughed. not at him, but the way he made you nervous. nervous in such a flattered way. “should i stop giving you spontanious gifts? hmm?"
he didn’t laugh with you. he only reached out, brushing his thumb along your cheekbone, his touch feather-light.
“don't say that,” he murmured. “you'll make me miss you even more.”
ིྀ 𓎟ᛝ𓎟𓎟 † 𓎟𓎟ᛝ𓎟 ྀི
sol cried that night.
you didn’t know why, not really. you'd said something so simple, something kind. maybe it's because you told him you were glad to know him, or that you’d always be around, no matter the situation. you weren’t sure.
all you knew was that one moment he was smiling, and the next he was trembling, eyes wet, breath uneven.
you reached for him, and he caught your hand, pressing it against his chest. his heartbeat was rapid, frantic.
“solivan,” you whispered, frightened by how fragile he looked.
he shook his head, a quiet laugh breaking through his constant tears. “you really don’t understand how much it means when you say things like that, do you?”
you softly raise your hand to rest on his face, wiping his big tears away. “explain it to me. i'm here for you.”
“i can’t,” he said, voice shaking. “if i did, you might start to realize how deep this goes. and then you’d run. you'd run and never return.”
you didn’t move. not a muscle. “i wouldn’t. i would never.”
he softly smiled through the tears. a beautiful, terrible smile. “you say that because you’re kind. not because you know.”
he raises a hand to grip your own atop his face. he carefully removes it from his tear-stained cheek and grips it gently.
you held him then, and he let you. his hands gripped your shirt tightly, as though he was anchoring himself to you.
neither of you spoke for a long time.
in the morning, you woke on the couch to find him watching you, sunlight catching in his hair. he looked peaceful, almost nostalgic.
when you stirred, he reached out, brushing a stray hair from your forehead.
“good morning,” he spoke, voice husky.
“morning sunny,” you spoke softly, smiling at the green streaks sticking out of his head.
he smiled back. “stay a while longer.”
you hesitated. you had things to do, places to be, people to see. but you truly couldn’t say no to him, you never could.
so of course, you stayed.
and as you drifted back to sleep, you didn’t see the way he leaned closer, whispering against your hair,
“i'll find a way to make us stay like this. forever.”
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