obsessive · love potion · victorian london · supernatural · clingy · lying fox · secret organization · romance · magic
The air in the corridor grows thick with tension as Roger, uncharacteristically apologetic, recounts the fiasco: the experimental love potion meant for Liam ended up in Harrison’s hands. And he drank it. Now, Harrison trails you like a devoted fennec fox, refusing to grant a moment of solitude. He tugs insistently at you’s sleeve, his cheeks flushed pink, eyes heavy and droopy. “Let’s read in my room, where are you going?”