#reasons to love someone must always be simple matters as these

[random-xpressions]

The fact that she loves coffee and books must be enough good reason for you to fall for her. Add to it, she's a lover of sunsets, stars and moon. What other sign from universe are you waiting for - elope with her to heavens...

Random Xpressions

#reasons to love someone must always be simple matters as these #don't hunt for grandiose

[forbidden-sunlight]

yandere!Alastor with Violet Evergarden!reader scenario: A Wendigo's Violent Love

Warning: aged-up!reader [in early to late twenties], violence, spoilers for episodes 7 and 8 in the first season of the 2024 show, possessive and obsessive behavior, Alastor is in denial, physical abuse, implication of friends to enemies.

There may be possible triggers in this story.

If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the back button on your phone or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.

Hey guys, welcome to another Hazbin Hotel fic! I know I had said that I was going to be on a break until the 8th or 14th in my last post, but I had gotten a burst of inspiration after watching the season finale and wrote this after discussing the idea with @riddle-simp and collaborated with @witch-of-the-writing-desk. It's because of these two that I managed to write 2k in a single day, so please give a big round of applause to these amazing individuals.

So with that being said, sit back, relax, and let's see what's going on in tonight's broadcast with Hell's one and only Radio Demon!

Part Two

Alastor could not believe what had happened on the rooftop. No, he refused to believe that he was nearly killed by a hair. To almost die for his friends, a fucking altruist of all things.  Sorry to disappoint, but this is not how his story will end here. He thought viciously, tugging at his hair as memories rushed through his mind. He needed more. He needed his freedom. Yet this deal is restricting his powers from reaching their fullest potential, and it almost killed him. Yes, there has to be another way to get out of it. But more importantly….he needed to stop these feelings bubbling inside of him. These feelings he felt towards you. 

You, a simple groundskeeper who had forgotten what it meant to be a human and served as a weapon in war. You, who did not use technology like him yet still found a way to connect with the rest of the hotel’s wayward souls.

He hates it and he wants you gone, out of sight and out of mind, because these feelings have put him in more danger than necessary. When he finds the backdoor of his deal, how to unclip his wings, he will be the one pulling all of the strings and claim the power that he rightfully deserves. He is the Radio Demon, the Great Alastor! Nothing else matters to him!

He made his decision right in the dilapidated radio station to never get attached to you or anyone else again. To only focus on himself and no one else. He is in Hell for a reason, after all. He cackled, feeling the thrum of his power rising in unison with his conviction. Yes. He thought. Yes, he’s Alastor! The cold, ruthless overlord who always has room for more voices on his broadcast. Not some soft-hearted twit who would die for someone! 

But what he did not realize at the time, just right underneath the hatch, you had heard everything. 

Despite your injuries and losing both of your arms to angelic steel, you had used your strength to trek through the debris and look for him. Now knowing that he despised you, knowing that he sees you as nothing more than a weapon to use for his convenience….well, you could not blame him. You were a weapon when you were alive. You were feared, you were hated, and you did not care at the time. So why did it hurt so much when he said that? You did not know, except it was better to keep your distance from him. 

So you left the Radio Demon alone, staggering away to join the others. 

Vaggie was somehow able to find Sir Pentious’ blueprints for your prosthetics in a fireproof trunk beneath the rubble, and put in a call to Carmilla Carmine to see if she could make them with angelic steel instead of adamantine. Of course, the angelic arms dealer took a look at them first before agreeing to it, but not before telling Vaggie she must ask for your consent to do the procedure and what you wanted to add or remove. You gave your input, and the procedure was scheduled for the following week. Although you could not help with the construction of the hotel, you did assist Charlie by putting together an eulogy and memorial service for Sir Pentious. The princess was not sure when it would be held, hopefully when the hotel was finished. 

You understood, softly promising to be by her side for support, even if you had to be pushed in a wheelchair. Sir Pentious had been a good person, an inventor and a gentleman who was nothing but kind and respectful to you. Even though you offered to pay him for doing repairs on your arms in the past, he brushed it off and instead asked you to join him for tea. He…you hoped he found peace. 

On the day of your procedure, you asked the overlord a question that had been plaguing your mind since the war. “Madam Carmilla, I am a weapon. I was raised to be one, to be used and tossed aside when my usefulness had expired. So…why is it that I am bothered by what Alastor said…on that day?” You did not dare to elaborate on what he exactly said to her, just that he said that he did not want to see you anymore. Be gone from his sight and mind. 

She stared at you for a long moment before she replied coolly, “So I have heard from Vaggie. But I do not share her thoughts. A weapon is lifeless. You are a person. An emotionally stunted one, but someone is living, breathing, and who can still be hurt by what others say about them even if they can’t see it. You are upset because of what Alastor said….and in my humble opinion, whatever you feel towards him, discard it. There is nothing to gain by being close to him.” She then turned away, pulling on a pair of gloves over her hands as one of her daughters placed a mask over her face. “Are you ready to begin? This is your last chance, and I cannot promise it won’t hurt.”

“I am.” You said. “Thank you for answering my question.” 

Carmilla nodded, and proceeded to give out instructions to you and the rest of the staff in the operating room. You complied, not wanting any more time to be wasted on your behalf. At least now you knew why you were upset.  It was because you cared about Alastor. Cared….yes, that is the appropriate word. You had to distance yourself from him. It is what he wanted, so you must respect his decision as the manager of the Hazbin Hotel. 

Yes, it is better this way.

That was the last thought that crossed your mind before a mask was placed over your face, and everything fell into darkness. 

Alastor did not understand. You were doing what he wanted you to do. He did not want to see or talk to you unless it was necessary. So why was it making him angry? When he congratulated you on a successful recovery from your procedure, complimented your progress in physical therapy per Carmilla’s instructions, or how lovely the eulogy you wrote for Sir Pentious' memorial service, you showed no reaction. You simply stared at him with a hollow expression before thanking him, excusing yourself with a bow of your head. 

He should be elated. No, he is pleased. He is satisfied that his relationship with you has not gone by being professional. Why, you even pull away as soon as he lays a finger on you~! So why does it bother him that you recoil from his touch? No. He…cannot accept it. He cannot accept this.  He needed to speak to you. Discreetly. 

However, now that this new and improved Hazbin Hotel stood in place of the old one, everything is much bigger with the additional square footage; meaning there would be more ground to cover if Alastor is to ever find you, even if you do not wish to see him.

 Niffty, bless her little deranged mind, pointed him in the direction of the greenhouse. Of course, it was much bigger than the old one. But he still saw the old stained glass windows of the Moriningstar family crest lined up on the south side, allowing red light to come through and shine down on seedling trays with new shoots poking out of the inky soil. The clean, fragrant scent of herbs permeated the air as he walked through the rows of berries, juicy melons, and other culinary delights. He did not think this place would already be thriving when you were the only one who tended to it, as the hotel’s groundskeeper. However…this is you. You, who is able to accomplish anything once you put your mind to it. 

He found you hiding just beyond the apple trees, kneeling beside a bush of glistening roses, armed with pruning shears and an apron over your clothes. A watering can sat on the grass by your side. Your back was facing him…which allowed him the element of surprise. Grinning, he leaned forward, stretching his gloved fingers to lightly caress the petals of the rose you were about to snip off. 

“Oh, my apologies dear. My hand slipped!”

You glanced at him over your shoulder, emotionless [Eye Color] irises holding a steady gaze before turning away. “It’s all right. There are others that I can place at Sir Pentious’ memorial site.” You said, raising the shears to carefully cut another rose with a small snip. “Thank you for your concern.” 

The static around him buzzed, swelling in synchronization with his boiling anger towards you. “I see.” He hissed. “I am terribly sorry to disturb you.”

“It is all right.” Snip. “If there is nothing else, please allow me to finish this so that I can go on break. Niffty will not be happy if I am not out of here within ten minutes.” 

“I’m afraid we must discuss something, [First Name].” He pressed on, irritated at your uncharacteristic rudeness. “That is why I am here. So please turn around and look at me.”

You did. You placed the shears down, twisted your body around so that you looked at him straight in the eye. “Yes?” You said. “What do you need?”

He smiled, the static around him coming to a screeching halt and he was much calmer. Finally, He thought. You were looking at him, instead of avoiding his gaze. “I understand that since you have been cleared to return to work, you’ve been quite busy~! However! What I do not understand is why you have been ignoring me.” He leaned forward, feeling his eyes transform into radio dials. “You do not greet me as much as you have before, we haven’t had tea together, nor have we taken a stroll in Cannibal Colony~! So…why are you acting like I am a complete stranger to you?”

“Because I know the truth.”

Any and every thought he could have possibly said to her at this moment evaporated upon hearing your answer. “Pardon? I’m sorry but I didn’t catch that.” His voice leaked through the rising static. He felt his antlers grow, expanding past his ears with cr-crik, crick noises. Like the roots of a tree. 

“I know the truth. I know that you are angry over what happened in the war, how everyone saw you flee from your battle against Adam. I know you wish to unclip your wings and that you utterly despise me. So I am doing what you wish for. To maintain a professional relationship as the groundskeeper and the manager of the Hazbin Hotel. Our goal is to redeem sinners. There’s nothing beyond business between us.” You said with a calm and expressionless composure. “I went there that day, to the radio station. I had gone there to look for you, to make sure you were all right when I heard your words. But know this,” A sudden sheen of ice glazed over your eyes. “If you bring harm to Charlie or anyone in this hotel, I will kill you where you stand.” 

The last thread of patience in his psyche split in half. Before he could stop himself, Alastor pinned you against the ground, his hands on your shoulders and glaring at you, trying to intimate you with his true form, to scare you into silence as he had done with Husk…but you held your gaze. 

“It’s terrible manners to eavesdrop on someone, my dear.”

“And it isn’t wise to attack someone when you are not even at your full strength.” 

In a flash you immediately flipped him over, straddling his hips as you held down his wrists over his head with one hand. The other held a garden spade to his throat and he was burning. That was when he realized you weren’t wearing your gloves, thus the angelic steel is the reason why his skin is on fire. 

“Calm yourself, Alastor.” You said. “There is no reason to be angry when I am doing what you want me to do. Nor to act as you are doing right now. I advise you to take slow, deep breaths and count to five backwards.” 

“Release me.”

“Not until you have calmed down.” The way you replied so calmly, so…lifelessly, made Alastor angry. Angrier than he has felt in a long, long time. Not since his prey had escaped the forest and he did not get to eat them. Not since his mother died, leaving him alone in the world except for a drunken asshole who wasn’t worthy of being his father. Make these feelings stop NOW

“Come to my office in exactly twenty minutes for an evaluation about your conduct at work. Do not be late.”

That was the last thing he said to you before he sunk into the grass as an inky shadow, slithering back towards the greenhouse’s entrance towards his room. He couldn’t believe it. How could you have known everything? How could he not have sensed your presence? Was he that weak? No. No, he assumed he was alone and clearly he had not been. You were an anomaly. You were raised as a weapon; to spy, to kill, to search and destroy upon the command of your master. 

So why does it still bother him? Why does his head feel like it is about to split in half as he goes over the conversation over and over in his mind? Why is his heart falling into the pit of his stomach at remembering your promise to kill him if he harmed anyone here in the hotel? Why does he have this urge to know how you truly feel towards him? Do you still care for him? Do you love him?

In twenty minutes, he needed to know the truth…or else he would go insane.

What Alastor did not realize though, as he holed up himself in his quarters until the allotted time to meet with you, Husk had seen the whole thing from the door. 

He was going to drag you to lunch because Niffty had gotten pissed that you were skipping meals again…and thank fuck Alastor did not see him. Husk, the drunken gambler and former overlord, almost flew over to you with a worried look, grumbling under his breath. Once he saw that you were all right and did not have visible bruises or injuries courtesy of a certain someone, he grabbed you by the hand, leading out of the greenhouse. He was not going to let Alastor hurt you again.

He might be a dumbass, can’t fight worth shit…but you are important to him, and he’ll protect you even if it means putting himself in the line of fire again. 

Taglist

@no1sillybilly

@faux-ecrivain

@faesdreaming

@sillypumpkins

@imperfectbloodmoon

@bones4thecats

@frompeach

@lunaramune

@sleepy-hutao

@candyladycry

@luthefriendlywitch

@22carolina08

@weirdducky17

@lanxianschoenheit

@frenchtoastmafia

@deathmetalunicorn1

@tired-of-life-86

@angelltheninth

@kanroji-san

@likesugarandcyanide

@yandere-dark-cupid

@trecllllllll

@the-cat-queen-peasants

@rebloglikeyouneedtoo

@oucx

@victheauthor

@navierkalani

@doc-tooth

@solandis-does-stuff

@anielly-2010

@theunknowntravel3r

@riddle-simp

@tonightwrites

@victoria1676

@likesugarandcyanide

@isuckatwritingsobenice

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #yandere alastor x reader #alastor x reader #yandere x reader #forbidden-sunlight #yandere male #yandere #ns.fw #cw physical abuse #tw physical abuse #tw possessive behavior #cw possessiveness #hazbin hotel spoilers #violet evergarden!reader #character!reader

[an-idyllic-novelist]

rimuru tempest with fem!tanjiro!reader headcanons

Hey guys, welcome to another collaboration with @deathmetalunicorn1, though the credit on the concept of the pairing and these headcanons go to my dear friend. I really hope you will enjoy what we have written. If you'd like to see more content like this, or an extended version of these headcanons, please let us know!

So with that being said, sit back, relax, and enjoy! :)

Although Rimuru Tempest  knows his significant other and her little sister are strong, he will not stop worrying about Tanjiro!reader’s wellbeing, especially when she and Nezuko  leave Tempest on a mission, and he is unable to join them for whatever reason. His anxiety will increase tenfold when his relationship with the former Demon Slayer evolved from being friends who just happened to stumble upon each other’s paths as soon as he left Veldor’s cave to being lovers. 

It will be very hard for the demon lord to sleep for the first few nights when he is so used to curling up next to Tanjiro!reader and Nezuko, the latter sprawled out and almost always in her toddler form. However, when she does return, Tanjiro!reader will always bring back a souvenir from wherever she traveled to, normally a tasty treat or a cute little knick-knack she saw at a market. 

[To ease his lord’s worries, Diablo will mobilize a few of the Black Numbers to keep a discreet eye on the Kamado siblings, personally delivering periodical reports on their whereabouts to Rimuru when it was an appropriate time between meetings and inspections around the capital. After all, an excellent butler must be able to anticipate his lord’s every need and alleviate his concerns so that he may continue to focus on his duties in the land. If something does happen, Diablo will act immediately and make sure Tanjiro!reader and Nezuko return to Tempest safely.]

Tanjiro!reader unwinds from her journey with a big hug from Rimuru in both his slime and human form. Rimuru would receive affection from Nezuko if she isn’t sleeping in her box in the form of bone crushing hugs or his hair being ruffled by a clawed hand. If Rimuru hadn’t eaten, she would whip a simple home-cooked meal that is either a traditional recipe from the Kamado household, or one that Mitsuri, the Love Hashira, had taught her when they were alive back in her old world. 

Rimuru will definitely join in and help, even all she’ll allow him to do in the kitchen is wash the dishes. 

After he had been reincarnated in this world, he took the Japanese cuisine he had eaten for granted, even the microwaveable ramen noodle cups he’d heat up in the company break room when he had to work late at the office. Back then, Misaki Satoru didn’t care much about his health so much as worried about forever remaining a virgin because he couldn’t score a date with a cute girl. 

He honestly couldn’t have anything resembling his homeland’s cooking until his country was developed further, including the dwarves’ metal-working and the orcs’ infamous work ethic. He couldn’t remember how many times he had told Geld and the others to rest even when they insisted that they kept working. Now, he could share a meal and enjoy a hot bath with someone he loves very dearly.

Nezuko is, of course, welcomed to join them in the bath since she loves swimming around the large hot spring he had built in the back of his home. When she joined them, Rimuru reverted to being a slime to protect Nezuko’s innocence.  If he’s alone with Tanjiro!reader, he’ll either be a slime or his human form, depending on his mood. 

Speaking of which, Nezuko is the little sister everyone in Tempest adores and will be fiercely protected. Rimuru is her favorite person, but when Milim decides to stop by for a visit, she is Nezuko’s new favorite, no matter how much he bribes her with newest confections that were created or toys. But between these two….Nezuko will always pick Tanjiro!reader, if she’s an option. 

Rimuru’s love language includes quality time, words of affirmation, and gift-giving. But what he enjoys the most is having afternoon tea on the porch, him sitting in her lap as a slime and munching on sticks of mitarashi dango or different flavored onigiri.  

If anything happened to either Tanjiro!reader or Nezuko because an enemy nation was jealous of Tempest’s flourishing economy and thought it would be a brilliant idea to hold them hostage or try to hurt them….they had better be prepared to have another kingdom falling into ruins. 

Remember what happened to Falmuth?

Taglist

@sunnyblackbird

@abelheilonwife

@nunezs-stuff

#an idyllic novelist #x reader headcanons #fem!reader #tanjiro!reader #kny x reader #that time i got reincarnated as a slime #rimuru tempest x reader #tensei shitara slime datta ken #that time i got reincarnated as a slime x reader #rimuru x reader #rimuru tempest #tensei shitara slime datta ken x reader

[jgracie]

💭 DO YOU THINK I HAVE FORGOTTEN ABOUT YOU?

masterlist | rules

in which jason wakes up on a random bus with a random girl and the feeling of your hand in his

pairing jason grace x fem!reader

warnings none as far as im aware!

an my first piece of writing on here!!! very very excited :) i know this has probs been done SO much but i had to make it my first fic LOL feel free to give any feedback!

Jason would say he’s never experienced anything crazier than what he was going through at the moment, but he couldn’t recall anything from before he woke up on that bus - not even his own age, or his so-called ‘friends’, one of which was holding his hand right now. She was pretty, but something about it felt very wrong. She didn’t hold his hand like how he was used to, which was another strange thing. Out of all memories his brain could’ve retained, it chose the feeling of someone’s hand in his.

“Jason, you okay?” The girl asked, snapping him out of his thoughts. Nothing was okay, but Jason managed to keep his composure as best as he could. As the day progressed, he eventually figured out many things: his friends’ names (Piper and Leo), the fact that he’s a demigod (that one came to him naturally) and that there was a special extraction team looking for him and his friends. However, none of it was what he was looking for. While he enjoyed gathering more information about the puzzle pieces of his life, ever since Jason had opened his eyes on that bus, there’d been a specific memory that definitely wasn’t fully gone. He’d almost gotten it when he remembered the way someone’s thumb would gently stroke his hand as their fingers interlocked, but it wasn’t fully there yet, not until Piper asked him about the bracelet he hadn’t even noticed he was wearing. 

It was simple, just purple and white beads on a string with an initial that definitely wasn’t his dangling off of it, but Jason was surprised he hadn’t noticed earlier. As soon as he laid eyes on it, he knew it was one of his most prized possessions.

Without missing a beat, Jason said, “Oh, this? It was a gift from Y/N.” 

Ever since then, nothing was the same. All Jason could think about was her. Somehow, the bracelet had unlocked the vault of memories of them he didn’t even know he had. It didn’t matter if he slept in the cold, harsh atmosphere of Cabin One or on a random piece of ground during their quest, his dreams were always the same. Their first meeting, him helping her with her sparring, her laugh – Gods, her laugh! If that’s what it sounded like in his dream, he couldn’t even begin to fathom what it must be like in real life. All of these little moments slowly began coming back to him and when Jason found out that they’d all be going to Camp Jupiter, his home, he was buzzing with excitement. He’d begun journaling his experiences out of fear that he’d forget again, and he couldn’t wait to be able to tell you all about what he was up to.

Time flies by when you’re having fun. Soon enough, Leo was done with building the Argo II and the three, along with Annabeth, began heading for Camp Jupiter. That’s when the worries began consuming Jason’s mind. As far as he was aware, despite clearly sharing some romantic moments with you, you two never formally started dating before he got whisked away by Hera. It's been months since that happened, what if you found someone else? He wouldn’t have blamed you, he probably broke your heart. 

Surprisingly, it was Piper who comforted him. Piper, who’d been fed a fantasy and led on simply for the sake of some Goddess’ schemes. Piper, whose heart he definitely broke the moment he mentioned your name. 

“It’ll be fine, Jason,” she said, standing next to him as Camp Jupiter slowly began coming into view, “the worst is over. I’m sure Y/N will understand once we explain everything. She clearly loves you a lot, trust me.” 

For some reason, maybe her godly heritage working its magic, he did believe Piper. Although things had been awkward with her, she meant a lot to him, and he’d felt really bad during the conversation they had after their first quest together, so he was glad she wasn’t secretly mad at him. Turning away from her, Jason now gazed upon the shapes of his home with a newfound confidence.

And then he saw you. Whatever his brain managed to come up with in his dreams paled in comparison to the real thing. You seemed to glow and glimmer and shine and all those wonderful things as you walked towards the Argo II with Reyna. While Percy and Annabeth had their heartfelt (albeit strange) reunion, you shared your own. 

“Jase!” You said, running to him. Immediately, he picked you up and spun you around. He knew he was probably getting really strange looks from his fellow Romans, but he didn’t care. This wasn’t about them.

Putting you down, Jason wiped a stray tear from your cheek as you began to speak, your voice shaky with nerves, “thank the Gods you’re back! I was so worried when Percy came here and didn’t remember anything, I prayed day and night to anyone who’d listen to bring you home to me with your memories intact. I don’t know what I would’ve done if…” You faltered, unable to even utter the words out of fear they may come true. 

Luckily, Jason had many words for you, starting with these: “do you seriously think I’d forget about you?”

#jason grace x reader #jason grace x you #jason grace x y/n #jason grace #jason grace x fem reader #percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #jason grace fanfic #pjo fanfic #percy jackson fanfic #jason grace drabble #cynwrites

[liliavnrg]

Thinking about Lilia... and his love for surprises. Specifically, his love for surprising you, and hearing your cute yelps.

Lilia is quite the playful man, and if he knows you're sensitive to, let's say... the cold? Well, that just gives him something else to add to his daily life.

Although the fae wears gloves most of the time, there are moments when he takes them off, specially during colder weathers or when he's going to touch something cold.

Why? The reason is simple: to touch you, of course!

It was an accident the first time it happened, he swears. It had been a cold night, he had forgotten his gloves back in his room. The feeling of your bare skin under his hands was always comforting, so he slipped his hands under your shirt to caress your back.

Even Lilia was startled at the way you suddenly pulled away with a yelp, red eyes wide as he slowly connected the dots. The grin that appeared on his face tried to show innocence as he apologized, but you knew better than to trust him when he had that gleam in his eyes.

Now, you have to try to keep your guard up at all times. From touching you with his cold hands while you're cuddling to suddenly appearing behind you, sneaking his hands under your shirt and grabbing your waist. It has, unfortunately, become one of his favorite pastimes.

Worse thing is, no matter how much you try to pull away, unless he wants to let you go, you're going to be squirming in his hold. It was so unfair how strong he was, truly.

But of course, Lilia knows that he has to respect your boundaries. He's very skilled when it comes to knowing when he can startle you or not.

And, if you're someone who gets sick easily, then he'll be more careful and do it less often, but he won't stop. Instead of keeping his cold hands on your skin for as long as he wishes, he'll simply touch you for a few seconds before letting you go. Just enough so he can hear that cute sound of surprise from you.

To top it off, this man would use a silly excuse like "my hands are cold, can you warm them up for me, dear?" before placing his freezing hands on your stomach. The little shit.

"Why are you avoiding me?" The fae looked at you with a sad expression on his face, but you knew better. There was nothing like sadness in his eyes, quite the contrary. "I just want to give my darling human a hug."

"I literally saw you grabbing some ice after taking your gloves off a few moments ago, Lilia." You narrowed your eyes at him, taking another step back when he tried to get closer.

He didn't even try to be subtle about it. Why would he? It was much more amusing when you knew what was coming, your attempts at avoiding the inevitable were adorable in his eyes.

"Oh, dear, you caught me. I guess it means I must give up." Lilia sighed, shaking his head in defeat.

His words caught you off guard for a moment, a second before you realized the truth, but a second was all he needed to make his move.

The fae quickly closed the distance before you could react, his speed making all of your efforts to run away completely futile, as his hands found their way under your shirt.

"Lilia! You-" A yelp escaped you at the feeling of his freezing fingers on your skin, the man laughing as he made sure to keep his hands on the most sensitive spots. "Let go, you old bat!"

"Khee hee hee, I don't think I will!" He watched with amusement as you squirmed in his arms, trying to find a way to free yourself from his attack.

#lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia x reader #twst x reader

[absolute-flaming-trash]

Pairing: Yandere!Chrollo x Reader

SFW

Word Count: 721

Warnings: Kidnapped reader, Captive reader, Forced relationship

Out of all the holiday seasons that came and went during the year, this one was your favourite by far.

Not for the festivities or the brash, obnoxious yet oddly endearing holiday traditions that made their way over from the Western world. Those certainly had their place, yes, but you loved it for an entirely different reason.

The lights.

Colours of every shade, limited only by imagination, were strung up on buildings all across the city - wrapped around the rails of balconies and other anchor points like luminescent vines. Trees that lined the streets were specifically decorated with white and blue, mimicking the ice and snow around them and making the scene seem just that much brighter.

It made it all seem so ethereal. How enchanting such a simple thing could make a night otherwise illuminated only by lights belonging to office buildings and private homes. It was almost enough to make you forget why you had the view you did. Who you shared it with.

You didn’t want to go back inside the hotel room yet. Even with some protection from the balcony, the cold bit at your skin making gooseflesh pepper your skin. Your toes had gone numb ages ago, but you couldn’t yet tear yourself away.

In the distance, someone was playing carols over a loudspeaker. The sound made your lips quirk up ever so slightly and you closed your eyes to take it in for a moment. While classical music was all but ruined for you by this point, there was something about the orchestral version of songs that still managed to make you feel… home. Nostalgia stirring in your chest for something that would never be the same again. A place that never existed anymore.

Such a moment was interrupted by warmth wrapping itself around you from behind, hands encircling your waist and reminding you just how thin your nightgown really was.

Your silent wish that he wouldn’t speak and simply look at the view with you was quickly crushed when you felt his hot breath right next to your ear.

“Twas noontide of summer,” Chrollo began, “and mid-time of night; and stars, in their orbits, shone pale ‘ore the night.”

“Must you always do that?” You asked, cutting his recitation off before he could complete it fully. A beat of silence followed, one long enough that the temptation to reopen your eyes to look at him pulled at your subconscious, but you pushed it back.

You felt one of his hands leave your waist in favor of your arm, the goosebumps disappearing under the warmth of his palm. Part of you wondered if he delighted in the little ways your body betrayed you when it came to him. What he provided.

“Do what, my dear?”

“Make it worse.”

There was another beat of silence as Chrollo’s fingers tightened around your bicep in a light squeeze. You opened your eyes that time, the lights coming back into view, but this time it felt different.

Tainted.

He squeezed your arm again.

“You’re cold. Come back in, there are plenty of blankets for you.”

A frown threatened to tug at your lips, but you hid it well. At least you thought you did. If there was one bright side to being the object of Chrollo’s affection, it was learning the skill of hiding what you truly felt.

Not like it mattered much, anyway.

“Do I have to?”

Another squeeze on your arm. Firmer. Non-negotiable.

“You’ll catch cold.”

A surprising reason, you thought. With how much he lingered and leered, you figured he’d delight in any occasion that would result in you depending upon and relying on him more.

Attempting to think about any other reason as to why he wouldn’t want for something like that only served to give you a headache, so you nodded once - turning your body to face his.

“Excellent.” You could hear the pleasantry in his tone hidden underneath his otherwise deadpan expression. The hand on your arm slid off to reopen the balcony door while the other moved to the small of your back, guiding you back inside.

The warmth from the room that greeted you was ironic in a way. Most defined the winter night air as biting. Harsh, even.

Yet the supposed reprieve of the indoors had never felt less welcoming.

© absolute-flaming-trash 2023. Do not repost, modify, copy, or claim.

#riri writes #Chrollo #Chrollo x Reader #HxH #Hunter x Hunter #Chrollo Lucilfer #Chrollo Lucilfer x Reader #Yandere x Reader #tw yandere #tw kidnapping #tw captivity #tw forced relationship

[love-toxin]

DO U HAVE SUNDAY THOUGHTS…

/WHIPS MY HEAD AROUND EXORCIST-STYLE

(cws: toxic relationship, gaslighting, manipulation, yandere goodness)

It has to be said: big male manipulator daddy energy. If he wants you, he will ruin everything you love. He's smothering with endearment when you act according to his desires, and viciously brutal in his discipline when you go against his virtues. If you want out of his reach you'll just have to kill him because he's not interested in letting his pet personal attachment go.

Not that he isn't gentle at times, even sweet. He can be gentle and is actually very good at being so. He does truly love to see you smile and to feel your happiness flooding out of you; he loves the excitement in your eager gait when he shows you the Golden Hour for the first time, and all those colours and wondrous sights you've never seen before come to life in the dream. The reflection of all those brilliant, glimmering lights in your eyes is a sight he'll never forget.

But you are not his equal, for the simple reason that you require more guidance to be on your own. Sunday is convinced that you're a little lost lamb, delicate and unworldly, and that you need a proper mentor before you can even think of making your own decisions in life. Little do you know that he has no intention of ever seeing you in that light of equality, but to be fair, neither does he. He's just certain that you're a passion project requiring his help, and that is something he is all too happy to lend despite his many other duties to the Family.

That means, however, that you're essentially stuck with him. With Robin's death so fresh in his mind, he can't let something he loves out of his sight ever again. You must stay with him and be by his side every second of the day--aren't you flattered? He trusts you most implicitly, to the point that you've listened to all but only the most exclusive inner workings of the Family, which are the only times that Sunday will briefly excuse himself to have a meeting with his companions alone. Sometimes it ends with only himself coming back out, but if you haven't learned already you will learn to keep your lips sealed about those occurrences. "It's nothing for you to worry about." Sunday's famous words ring in your head, usually followed by a welcome distraction of tea or a walk or even some ice cream. Anything for his little darling.

Part of what makes Sunday so enticing--and in fact is probably a large part of why you'd get sucked into his facade--is that he offers you something you likely don't have; a family. And not just that, but unconditional love, support, wealth, affection, comfort, anything and everything you could ever want, even if it's not directly from Sunday himself. Although you're by his side nearly every moment of the day and he's all too eager to offer you attention whenever possible, being part of the Family and part of Sunday's inner circle means that you're part of something much bigger than yourself. The Family members treat you with dignity. The Hounds protect you. The people of Penacony adore you. And no matter where you are, no matter what you do, Sunday will never give up on his unending affection for you. It doesn't matter what it is. It doesn't matter what crimes you've committed or what guilt you feel for your past, whether you're a happy person or you're miserable, whether you can't hold up your relationships or you're an egregious people-pleaser; Sunday will never, ever give up on you, and that's rare to find in anyone, much less someone of his status and one with so much romantic affection for you. He'll tell you himself that he physically cannot abandon you, it's just...not within him to even think of it. You're meant to be together. That's the way it should be, forever and always.

#sunday hsr #sunday x reader #sunday hsr x reader #hsr #ellie writes #anons

[multific]

Small Kisses

Vincent De Gramont x Wife!Reader

Warning: mention of toxic obsession and kidnapping (not done by Vincent)

Summary: You loved the tickle of his lips on your skin.

Vincent loved to give you small kisses.

No matter the reason. He just loved doing it wherever you two were.

A formal event? 

A simple dinner?

A small date?

Or just staying in bed all day?

You swore the reason Vincent lived was to give you his sweetest kisses. A man so cunning and proud as him, yet he would be the proudest and calmest whenever he was with you.

You were his beautiful wife whom he loved with all of his dark heart.

But you didn't mind the blood, the murder and the insanity of it all.

Because every time he killed someone in the most brutal way, he would also come home to you, his gorgeous suit covered in blood, and give you such a sweet kiss.

It was honestly confusing rather than anything. 

Vincent was a very classy man. He enjoyed the luxuries in life. High-end products, and he always made sure that you lived in the same luxury.

On your last birthday, he gifted you an original Monét piece.

The painting is currently right above your bed.

If he could, he would buy you the Mona Lisa.

He would literally make sure that you are dripping in diamonds, much like how he did for his birthday when he got you a special gown, made out of diamonds.

Once he said: "I would change the Mona Lisa to a painting of you, you are far more beautiful, Mon Amour."

His sweet talking always worked.

No matter how angry you were because of something, he would always say the sweetest things and then give you a small kiss to your forehead.

“My Beautiful Wife, even stunning when she is mad at me.”

“I would kill any man for you, Mon Amour. You don’t have to ask.”

“I must apologise, I believe I have lacked in my duties as a husband, Mon Amour. I believe you forgot just how much I love you.”

He would always make sure that you are happy and protected.

Even when one time, he failed to do that.

Well, it was more like his men failed, not him. 

When you were taken, he was furious. Too furious to say or do anything other than rage. 

You were taken by a man. A man so insane, you never saw anything like this.

He kept on going on about how he knew you were in love with him, how he knew that you only married Gramont for the money and how now, you two can be together.

He scared you. 

His obsession with you was toxic, you could see just how crazy he was in his eyes. Every time he used the word 'love' it sent a shiver up and down your spine. 

When Vincent finally got to you, you were shaking in fear. The only thing that managed to calm you was Vincent's kisses.

The smallest little kisses he placed all along your body. He also spoke in French some calming words but you could only recall the tickle of his lips when he found a soft spot.

And when the next couple of days you woke up with a shiver, having nightmares about the man who abducted you, it was Vincent who calmed you down. 

It was he who kept waking up with you, never leaving your side, promising he would never leave or let this ever happen to you while placing kisses on your hands, knuckles and palm.

Vincent loved to give you small kisses on any exposed skin that you have.

But you loved the tickle of his lips on your skin even more.

His little kisses were the true proof of his love for you.

Vincent Taglist: @l4venderia

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel​ @rororo06​ @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak   @manduse   @jacalineiscomingforyou  @mandoloriancookie @noname2246

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

#Vincent de Gramont #Vincent de Gramont x reader #Vincent de Gramont x you #Vincent de Gramont imagine #Vincent de Gramont imagines #Marquis de Gramont #the Marquis de Gramont #Marquis de Gramont x reader #the marquis x reader #marquis imagine #john wick x reader #john wick imagine #john wick imagines #x reader #x fem reader #vincent gramont x reader #the marquis x you #the marquis #the marquis imagine #the marquis imagines #marquis de gramont imagine #marquis de gramont imagines #marquis gramont x reader #john wick x fem reader

[thebadboyfanclub]

Look At Me, Princess (Harwin x Reader)

This was a really nice spin off since I wanted to write about Rhaenyras aunt and someone that Rhaenyra could have a close bond with also having Harwin as your love interest is always a plus

There’s one person princess (y/n) Targaryen loved more than her family and children and that was her dearest niece, Rhaenyra Targaryen who looked up to her aunt ever since she was a toddler, Rhaenyra had formed a bond with the youngest sister of Viserys like no other, mayhaps because (y/n) was only 10 when the princess was born so (y/n) plus understand the struggles she was going through better than anyone since they were still fresh in her mind.

No matter the reason Rhaenyra felt most comfortable in the presence of “the people's princess”, (y/n) was an interesting character, it seemed like she had the best features of both of her brothers, she was fair and optimistic like Viserys but also adventurous and outspoken like Daemon, both of her brothers spoiled her rotten, no harm would come to her if they had something to do with it, it only took for a simple mist of tears to well up in her eyes for Viserys to fill her hands with gifts and Daemon to roll heads.

“You look beautiful Rhaenyra”

“Thank you, I was going to say the same for you, I see you have not held back on the jewelry”

“It is my name-day, the tourney is held in my job honor, and as my dear brother says “it is an opportunity to gather an established suitor” so, in my opinion, it is just enough, besides, I was never known for my subtle taste”

Rhaenyra giggled at the answer of her aunt, (y/n) was one of the most luxurious women Rhaenyra has ever laid eyes upon, ever since she could remember her aunt was dressed in the finest of dresses with the most intricate patterns, and her neck was decorated by rubies and pearls as were her earlobes, she would bathe in goat milk and rub rose oil on her to keep her skin looking youthful.

Her dress was in Targaryen red with golden details sewn all over it, Rhaenyra wondered how long did it take to create this dress to be worn by the most beautiful woman in the seven kingdoms who remained unmarried, Viserys had begged her to marry but she refused any man that asked for her hand, all of them wanted to lay with a Targaryen, the sense of power excited them none would even spare her a look of it wasn’t for her name.

“I must thank the knights that decided to partake in this tourney held by my beloved brother and your king for my name day, I am honored to feel such warmth from you on this special day, I shall keep this brief since I believe no one came to listen to me but to watch the men in action, let the games begin”

Everyone clapped as (y/n) sat back down and winked at her niece who was smiling brightly, poor little thing had yet to adapt after the second wedding of her father, and to her best friend at that, Rhaenyra leaned on (y/n) more than ever and (y/n) was right there to offer a shoulder and an ear, she knew the pain of living without a mother very well.

“I ask the favor from the woman of the hour, princess (y/n) Targaryen, the heart of the realm”

(Y/n) had done her best to keep the peace within the small folk, but the starving masses had torn her heart open, she talked her brother's ear off to offering food and water in the flea bottom and paid for the orphanage to be fixed and in proper condition, that is where “the heart of the realm” name came from.

(Y/n) rose from her seat with a flower crown in hand and stopped in front of the stand, she leaned enough for the flower crown to slide down the spear of the strongest man the Seven Kingdoms could offer, Ser Harwin “Breakbones” Strong who waited patiently for the princess that was smiling as bright as the sun.

“I wish you good fortune and thank you for the kind words Ser Harwin”

“You honor me, princess”

He replied before he commanded his horse to the other side, (y/n) was supposed to walk away as well and sit back in her seat, surprisingly she remained still, her eyes following the Commander of the city watch until he charged at his opponent who to no one’s surprise loss against the knight dressed in blue armor.

(Y/n) smiled and clapped for him only for Ser Harwin to bow his head in gratitude, after that, she went back to sit next to Rhaenyra, the young niece had a playful smirk on her lips.

“Ser Harwin is a very handsome young man”

“Indeed he is”

“And Strong, who else would be better suited for a dragon?”

“You are rushing my dear, where is the fun in marrying Ser Harwin just because he asked for my favor? Things like this shine better with time”

-

“Princess (y/n) Targaryen with her brother Prince Daemon Targaryen”

(Y/n) and Daemon walked into the room side by side, no one knew where to focus, to the luxurious princess or the rogue prince who made his first appearance after his wedding was recently dissolved.

(Y/n) was the one to inform her brother about the feast, she was aware of the feelings Rhaenyra had developed for her older brother so she thought it would be a good gift to her niece.

“Congratulations my sweet Nyra, may the mother bless this wedlock with a plethora of children”

(Y/n) spoke before she got up the steps and hugged her niece, the kiss she placed on Rhaenyra's forehead reminded Daemon and Viserys of their mother Alyssa, even though (y/n) had never met her she would still mirror their late mother in so many aspects of her life.

“Thank you, aunt, mayhaps you are next”

“That is a possibility your father would adore”

“I wish for you to have a husband by your side is that so bad?”

“No brother I was just jesting, let us enjoy this night”

(Y/n) took her appointed seat next to her brother Daemon who sulked in his chair and stared daggers into anyone he laid eyes upon, (y/n) wondered what life would be like if she was Daemon or Viserys, she loved them both and would give her life for them but she had to recognize the privilege of being born a male, a prince at that, one had a target on his back for killing his wife and the other sacrificed his love for a babe that did not survive and is now married to a much younger lady.

Would she suffer the fate of Aemma as well? Or mayhaps marry someone she is not interested in out of duty like her niece? Her thoughts were interrupted by a young man dressed with the sigil of a lion bowed before her.

“Princess, my name is Gregory Lannister, brother of Jason Lannister”

“Pleasure to meet you, my lord, to what do I owe this introduction?”

“I was hoping you would accompany me for a dance”

“The princess will-“

“Be delighted, thank you, my lord”

She interrupted her brother who was ready to attack the young man. It was time for (y/n) to face the music, she is not getting any younger and as a princess, there was not much that she could do but marry, she had managed to slip through the cracks for so long though she could not always run away from it.

The Lannister lord seemed delighted and offered his hand for her to take, his touch was soft and gentle, he guided her to the middle of the crowd, and with a curtsy, they followed the music for the custom dance.

“How does it feel to see your niece be wed?”

“It is a wonderful day for my lovely Rhaenyra, lord Laenor will be a great king Consort for her”

“He is an honorable choice that is true, is that what marriage is for you as well”

“Wedlock is an oath given to the gods, to trust and to hold, it is a sacred act that I hope I will experience myself”

“I am certain you had your chance with multiple suitors would I be overstepping if I asked why have you chosen to stay a maiden?”

“As mentioned I believe marriage is sacred, call me insane for wanting to find a man that I enjoy being around and not just a man that appears to be a match for the realm”

As the two of them grew into a discussion (y/n) did not have the mind to notice a man that gawked at her like a hawk, Ser Harwin Strong had followed her with his gaze and had yet to pull away from her, his hands turned into fists as he saw the man’s eyes shifted down from her face and to her cleavage.

Gregory cared nothing for (y/n) nor her personality, it was all a mediocre act to get his hands at the pot of gold which was befitting behavior of a Lannister Lord.

“You are letting your true self show son”

“I am just guarding the princess”

“You can fool anyone but not me”

Harwin did not respond to his father, he had nothing to say that could prove to his father that he did not have a soft spot for the lady that was spinning around and her dress taking most of the space on the floor, she was perfect to him, a woman that anyone would be lucky to have so he couldn’t help but wonder why was she dancing with a man that was beneath her? He wasn’t clever nor strong nor did he have anything that could help his courting with her besides the Lannister sigil.

No one could have guessed what was coming next, a blood-curling scream went through everyone’s eardrums as the crowd became one mesh, in a blink of an eye Harwin lost sight of the princess, baffled he started shoving people out of the way in hopes to see her, knights were throwing commands as the people screamed and ran for their lives.

(Y/n) attempted to move out of the circle only to be met with someone’s back which caused her to fall back and hit her head on a piece of wooden furniture, the impact on her head was enough to bring her into a sense of lightheadedness, Gregory lifted her by her waist and pretty much carried her outside until they were secluded to a more private and dim lighted area, (y/n) blinked profusely to clear her foggy eyesight but to no avail, her legs felt weak as she had to support herself from Gregory.

“I can’t breathe”

She felt Gregory’s hands go up to the strings of her corset, she was about to thank him for loosening the tight piece of clothing until the corset started to become loose as to expose herself, thankfully she was quick enough to bring her hands up to her chest and keep it there, her mind tried to find an excuse as to Gregory being in shock and not knowing exactly what he was doing.

“My dress”

“It is alright (y/n) we are alone”

“No, my dress is untied”

“I’ll be quick”

(Y/n) finally met his eyes, the eyes that she could not recognize, dark and almost demonic, her hands were occupied with keeping her corset in place to shove him away as she was starting to get squeamish, her stomach turning as she fussed to get away from her.

All she felt was his weight leaving her but she did not count that he was keeping her up, (y/n) slid down and curled into a ball from fear of what was to come, it was at this point that she saw a man towering over Gregory and punching him repeatedly, a part of her felt relieved for the immediate justice of Gregory’s attempt to harm her, her other part trembled about whom it was and who could have seen them.

“Princess”

A voice as soft as silk reached her ears, Harwin strong had knelt to take a good look at her, make sure she was unharmed, he had run out to look for her only to find her in distress whilst the Lannister bastard wanted to defile her, (y/n) flinched when Harwin reached for her and although it hurt him he understood that she probably does not wish to be touched.

“Listen to me princess, in any minute people will start to pass by and if they find you like this they will not ask questions, they will just start whispering, we must take you away to your chambers, can you walk”

“I don’t think so”

“Can I lift you?”

“Please”

-

“Alyssa be careful”

Harwin heard (y/n) call for their eldest daughter as he entered the hall with a letter in his hand, the scene was heavenly in front of him, his beloved princess sitting on the couch with a fan in her hand to cool herself, her swollen belly was protruding from her dress, it was almost time for her to start her labor for their fourth child, their two older children, Alyssa and Alamea running around in mischievous nature chasing one another around and the third Arran was only two years old was sitting down next to his mother playing with his toys.

All of them had inherited their father's hair, dark brown curls, only little details telling of their Targaryen ancestors, Alyssa had her grandmother's eyes, Alamea had a few strings of blonde hair and little Arran had lavender hues, (y/n) never complained, she enjoyed the fact that she could see her lovely knight in their children.

“How are you feeling my dear?”

“I’m burning up but that’s nothing new”

Harwin sat next to her, contemplating how to go about this, his hand found her belly to caress it lovingly, the last thing he needed was to cause any complications with the news that he must share with her, he had done his best to shield his family from the outside world, brought them to harrenhal to maintain a peaceful life away from the menaces that lurked at court, his offspring should never be taint by the monstrosities that found a home in the red keep.

“A raven came from Dragonstone”

He simply informed as he passed the piece of paper to her, (y/n) who was clueless as to what it said grabbed it with excitement, wanting to read news of her family.

“My beloved aunt,

I write to you with great grief to announce to you that my father, your brother, Viserys has passed.

Unfortunately, this letter is not just to inform you over the kings passing, it is to ask for you and your family to come to my aid as I go against my brother Aegon who has usurped me and was crowned in front of the masses, claiming that he is the rightful heir due to his gender.

Please, I beg you for your love and guidance, in return I offer you the position of being the hand of the queen and your husband to be the commander of the queens guard, I need you by my side as you have always been the light of hope at my darkest of moments.

Love,

Rhae Rhae”

Tears welled up in her eyes as her hands trembled over what she was reading, her eldest brother was gone and before his body grew cold the Hightowers declared war on her Rhaenyra, Harwin took the princess in his arms as the tears escaped and sobs took over her body, he hated seeing her like this, he had done his best to keep her happy and now the pain of losing one of the few members of her immediate family engulfed her to such a degree that he saw just her younger self clinging on to her brother for dear life.

Even though (y/n) had created a family of her own, Viserys was someone she adored, her kindhearted brother, (y/n) dug her nails on top of Harwin back out of desperation as he was the one that she could always snatch upon and feel some level of safety, the man that always stood in front of her and took all the pain just so she can be out of harm's way, now that meant that he endured her nails piercing through his skin in an attempt to bring her some type of comfort.

“I must go to her”

“You cannot travel my love, what of our children?”

“You are right I suppose, I am sorry”

“Magdalena take the children elsewhere”

“I want to stay with momma”

Alyssa complained, (y/n) was in shambles and she had every right to be but Harwin wanted to spare them from witnessing such a tragic scene of their mother being miserable.

Once the children were out of sight (y/n) wiped away her tears and her eyes bounced from one thing to another since they refused to focus because her mind was scattered with thoughts that came all at once, a headache was surely soon to follow.

“Look at me, princess”

Harwin's voice was low and endearing, he pulled her out of her delirium the minute her eyes found his deep blue hues, oh those bewitching eyes that held a tremendous amount of admiration for his lady wife, his princess, Harwin took one deep breath through his nose and then out the mouth, (y/n) followed as Harwin wanted to slow down her heart and breathing, soothe her enough so they can plan together.

“Harrenhall shall declare for Rhaenyra, once I give birth we will ride for dragonstone”

“Alyssa is young she cannot go through a war”

“We can take them to Lys, we have friends there”

“If you become the queens' hand and I go as a commander it means we risk our lives”

“I cannot leave her”

“Harrenhall will declare for Rhaenyra, we will send an army to her and bend the knee to her, I give you my word for that, bullet us enjoy a few days of peace until we decide.”

“Fine but I will send a raven to her”

“I love you, princess”

“I love you more, Ser Harwin break bones”

Harwin leaned to place a gentle kiss on his wife's lips, he feared for what would come next, if she dies there was no reason for him to keep on living, but if he refused her she would end up despising him or try to run away, he had no choice but to bargain with her.

The next morrow Rhaenyra received a raven from Harrenhall, she put everything to a halt in order to read what her aunt was writing, she knew she was asking for too much and the princess that was days away from starting her labours had every right to refuse her or remain cordial.

“My Rhae Rhae,

I grieve for my brother, I will forever hold the moments I had with him near my heart, and with utmost love, I also know he is probably cursing at his son from the other side over this treacherous crime.

I also of you to understand that I wish to stay at Harrenhall until I give birth, in a few morrows time my children will go to Lys for sanctuary, I want them away from any type of war.

My husband and I will be by your side, as we only recognize the firstborn daughter Rhaenyra Targaryen as the true heir to the iron throne.

My flesh and blood, my strong niece, you will have your throne and crown.

I love you

(Y/n)”

Requests are open!

#harwin x y/n #harwin breakbones #harwin x reader #harwin strong #harwin imagine #ser harwin #harwin strong imagine #sir harwin #harwin strong x reader #harwing strong x you #harwin strong x y/n #harwin strong fanfic #harwin x you #harwin strong smut #daddy harwin #hotd fanfic #hotd #hotd fic #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon x reader #hotd season 1

[coloursparks]

Not Like That

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x F!MC Summary: Things change over the summer holiday with Sebastian, and then things get messy. Might as well spend the first few weeks of your last year fighting about it. WC: 6.1k Notes: Oh god, the first fic I've written in like six years and I am sure it's shit. I am sorry if characterization is off. It takes me a minute?? I also have zero clue if I want this to be canon compliant or not so there's absolutely no mention of Anne or what happened! Also, no beta so please don't be too harsh. I just wanted to have fun writing a thing and hopefully someone else enjoys it!

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“How else am I supposed to look?” you asked Imelda. “Do you hear yourself talk?”

“Do you?” she shot back, giving you the same exasperated look you were giving her. “If you don’t say something about it soon, you’re going to lose your chance. I’m not sure I can hold them at bay much longer.”

“I don’t know what chance you think I should have,” you said, though you didn’t sound as confident about it. The fact of the matter was you knew exactly what Imelda was talking about, and she was right. You hated that she was right.

“Sallow’s come back a foot taller and just bigger and you aren’t the only one who’s noticed,” she pointed out. “Violet’s determined to slip him a love potion. I’ve been trying to tell her he’s already involved, but considering I can’t say who, it hasn’t worked all too well.”

“I hate her,” you muttered, feeling a prick of jealousy. 

“You hate anyone who so much as bats an eyelash at him,” Imelda pointed out. “You can save yourself the trouble but just telling him that you fancy him and snog in the upstairs of the Three Broomsticks already.” 

“Imelda!” 

“Or snog him somewhere else. I happen to quite like the upstairs of the Three Broomsticks for that sort of thing, but to each their own,” she said simply, shrugging. She was unashamed, and part of you envied her for it. 

“It’s not that simple,” you sighed, giving her a pleading look.

“And why not?”

“Because…because…” you stammered, trying to find a reason that would satisfy your friend. When none came to mind as she stared at you expectantly, you groaned and rested your head on your crossed arms on the table in front of you. “He’s going to have a right laugh at me, Imelda.”

“No, he will not,” she said, poking you in the shoulder. You looked up at her, already defeated and resigned to the fact that despite your years-long pining for Sebastian Sallow, nothing would ever come at it.

“What makes you so sure?” you asked.

“Because Sallow’s a lot of things, but he’s not that cruel. Besides, for all you know, he could be whining to Ominus about how much he fancies you but thinks he has no chance,” she pointed out. “Now, come on. We’ll be late, and Hecat swore to put me in detention if I was late again.”  The two of you stood from the table in the library where you had been sitting, gathering up your belongings before heading to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. 

“Why are you so late all the time anyway?” you asked curiously as you held open the door into Central Hall for her. 

“Flying,” she answered simply. 

Of course. It was Imelda - you should have known. 

___

“Mr. Sallow, why must you always duel in my classroom?” 

Professor Hecat was only just leaving her office as you and Imelda entered and seemed too busy repairing the collateral damage from Sebastian’s duel with Leander Prewett to notice the two of you sneaking to nearby seats. The room was righting itself as Sebastian raised his hands up to the professor, taking a few steps away from the dueling platform he had been standing on.

“Because, Professor, there isn’t another place where dueling is sanctioned,” he pointed out, his voice conveying innocence he didn’t possess. You rolled your eyes because you knew full well that dueling being sanctioned didn’t stop him from doing it. Crossed Wands meetings and plenty of adventures proved otherwise, and the look Hecat was giving him also showed she knew otherwise.

“Let’s see if we can make it through the term without you destroying my classroom, Mr. Sallow.”

“I’m sorry, Professor,” he said, raising his wand and muttering a hasty spell to repair the nearby broken desk. It righted itself in one piece, still smoking slightly. “It won’t happen again.” He shot her a smile before heading to a nearby seat. “Imelda, what are you doing here? I didn’t realize Quidditch players needed N.E.W.T.S. Defense Against the Dark Arts,” he chuckled as he leaned forward to look at her.

“I take no chances,” Imelda replied cooly. “You never know what an opponent will do to get ahead, and knowing how to unjinx a broom can’t hurt.”

“If you say so,” he said, still smiling as he shook his head. “And my favorite Hufflepuff returns. I was starting to wonder if you even still went here,” he joked, elbowing you gently in the arm. 

“No, still here,” you chuckled awkwardly, trying to rub the tingling feeling out of your arm where he had touched you. It was ridiculous, letting a simple touch get to you, but everything was ridiculous when he was involved. 

Before either of you could say anything else, Professor Hecat was calling for the class to focus on her so she could teach. You tried your best to pay attention, but the fact you were next to Sebastian was nothing short of distracting. Words came out of the professor’s mouth and you tried to hold onto them, only for them to slip through your fingers because Sebastian was making that focused face he always made when he was trying to learn something, brow furrowed and the tip of his tongue poking out as he scribbled on parchment.

It was the first time you had really gotten to see him up close. Sebastian had certainly grown over the summer holiday – he was broader and if there were any doubts, the way his sleeves were pulled taut over his arms put them to rest. He was a head taller than last year, and you cursed him mentally for somehow having even more freckles. He had left sixth year looking more like a boy and returned for seventh year looking like a man, and you certainly hadn’t been the only one who noticed. 

Part of the reason why Sebastian had joked about not knowing if you had come back to Hogwarts was that you hadn’t been able to get his attention before now. You had seen him on the Hogwarts Express, but he and Ominis had been having such an intense-seeming conversation that you hadn’t wanted to interrupt. You had tried to end up in the same carriage on the way up to the school, but before you could tell him that you had room in your carriage, Violet McDowell was pulling him into hers with Sebastian tugging Ominis in too.

Dejected and a little annoyed, you had ridden up to the school in huffy silence with Imelda and Poppy. 

Outside of trying to wave at Sebastian from the Hufflepuff table after the sorting, you hadn’t bothered to get his attention. He was clearly enjoying the attention of the girls that somehow seemed to find every free space around him. You could have sworn that you saw Imelda notice the upset look on your face, but you decided to jab at your roast potatoes instead of looking at the Slytherin table any longer. 

It was the bell to signal the end of class that shook you from your stupor. You had zoned out watching Sebastian, who blissfully hadn’t noticed the attention. Unfortunately for you, Imelda certainly had. She gave you a look that very clearly said that her thoughts from your earlier conversation hadn’t changed. Luckily, before she could say anything about it, Sebastian was ducking in the way.

“Imelda, Quidditch,” he said quickly, noticing he needed to head her off talking about something, even if he didn’t know what it was.

“What about it?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she packed her belongings.

“Tryouts,” Sebastian said simply. “Want to know when they’re happening. Decided to finally try out.” When Imelda gave eyed him suspiciously, like she thought she was walking into a trap of some kind, he sighed and added, “I was told to do something more productive and sanctioned with my time.”

“You’re serious?” Imelda asked. “What position?”

��Beater. You need those, right?”

“We do,” she agreed. She glanced over at you, sighed, and then looked back to Sebastian. “I’m going down to the pitch before Potions if you want to practice before tryouts and I can give you tips to improve.” 

You wanted to laugh. As much as Imelda probably wanted you and Sebastian alone together so you could confess the feelings you still wouldn’t admit to, her love of Quidditch won out. Secretly, you were thankful for it.

“Do you want to join us?” Sebastian asked hopefully, looking over at you. “Get a leg up on your Slytherin competition.”

“Hufflepuff still wouldn’t stand a chance,” Imelda pointed out, and you rolled your eyes.

“No, I’ve got Divination,” you told him, choosing to ignore Imelda’s teasing. 

“You’re still taking that?” 

You shrugged in response. “I like Professor Onai. Plus, someone has to keep Natty company,” you explained. “You two don’t get bloodied up too bad without me.”

“Don’t worry, if Sallow’s any good, his pretty face will stay pretty,” Imelda laughed, and you knew that she was trying to get a rise out of you. Sebastian, thankfully, seemed a bit preoccupied with the comment himself to notice the color rising in your cheeks. You excused yourself with the excuse of not wanting to be late to class before things could get any more awkward.

____

In the weeks after, you had seen more of Sebastian, and then suddenly a lot less. Unsurprisingly, he ended up making the Quidditch team. With the beginning of the Quidditch season coming up, Imelda had them practicing at all hours, meaning that her time to try and press the issue of your feelings for Sebastian was blissfully cut short. 

Luckily, you could at least still spend time with other friends who either didn’t notice what Imelda had or at least had the grace not to press you about it. Without Sebastian around, you seemed to find Ominis on his own more, and the nice part about spending time with him was that he didn’t seem to give a damn about your romantic life nor did he want to divulge on his own the way Poppy and Adelaide had been as of late. You were happy for your friends, but the constant questions about your own because the two Hufflepuffs weren’t as well-versed in your emotions as Imelda was getting to be a little much.

“What do you think you’ll do once you graduate?” 

Ominis had been talking about what his own plans were as the two of you walked toward Hogsmeade. The two of you were friends, sure, but more because you had a mutual friend than because you spent any significant time together before now. You were catching up on the more interesting things now that the two of you were spending time together without Sebastian. 

“When we did career conversations with our Heads of House, I thought I wanted to work for the Ministry but something about it doesn’t feel right anymore,” you told him, stepping out of the way of a witch carrying a stack of books with a cauldron perched precariously on top. “Bit mad to expect a bunch of children to decide what to do with their lives just like that, you know?”

“You sound like Sebastian,” he pointed out, chuckling slightly. “Says he might not bother with curse-breaking at all now. Might want to play Quidditch professionally instead.”

“He hasn’t played in a single game,” you laughed. “The season doesn’t start for another week and he wants to be a professional now?”

“Apparently so.”

“I’m not sure I believe that.”

“Well,” Ominis started, “you can ask him all about it later. He’s meeting us here after practice–if Imelda’s left enough of the team.” 

“I didn’t know he was coming,” you said casually, trying to ignore the excitement from the news and the slight feeling of dread. As much as you liked Imelda, you hoped she wouldn’t be joining because you weren’t ready for another round of heavy-handed comments about you and Sebastian. 

“The second I said you and I were going to Hogsmeade, he said he was joining,” he explained, shrugging. “You haven’t seen much of him lately, have you?”

“Outside of classes? No,” you sighed. “He seems too busy for me these days.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Oh,” you said, biting your lip. 

You didn’t want to get into it with Ominis. He didn’t need to know how much it bugged you to see Sebastian at meal times, talking to the rest of the team or those girls that somehow always seemed to hang around him. He didn’t need to know how disappointed you were every time you couldn’t even get Sebastian’s attention to say hello, and when you did, half the time he was rushing off somewhere. You felt thoroughly left behind and the fact you cared so much about him made it hurt all that much more. The less Ominis knew about all of that, the better. 

“He’s just been busy with Quidditch,” you replied finally, in too airy of a voice to be entirely convincing. 

Thankfully, he let the topic of your mutual friend slide as you got into the village. You had needed to restock for Potions, and Ominis seemed uncharacteristically cheery in Honeydukes 

and you didn’t have the heart to suggest going elsewhere when he wanted to explore. Leaving close to an hour later with your coin purses lighter but pockets heavier, you managed to get into and out of Gladrag’s with only the new scarf you had intended to buy before heading to the Three Broomsticks. 

“There you two are!” Sebastian was sitting at a table in the corner, waving at the two of you. Your heart skipped at the look of the smile on his face, and you couldn’t help but smile back and wave to show that you spotted him. 

“Would you mind grabbing the Butterbeers?” Ominis asked, turning towards the sound of Sebastian’s voice. 

“Consider it done,” you told him, giving him a pat on the arm before heading to the bar. “Sirona! Can I get two Butterbeers?” She waved to show that she heard you, even as she was dealing with something else behind the bar. You looked around to see if there was other students in the pub, and you spotted a few younger Hufflepuffs and, a few tables over, Garreth Weasley and Everett Clopton discussing something on a piece of parchment in front of them. That was…dangerous. 

The only other table of interest was the one you were heading to, and as you looked over at it, you saw Sebastian looking at you, still smiling. You smiled back, feeling a little silly at how easy it was for him to make you feel the way he did.

“It’s about time you two showed up,” Sirona commented as she slid two full glasses in front of you. You whipped around, giving her a confused look.

“What do you mean?” 

“Sebastian’s been watching that door like his life depended on it,” she said. “Waiting for you.”

“Well, Ominis doesn’t come to the village often,” you pointed out, taking your drinks. “He was probably just worried about him and won’t admit it. Boys, you know.” 

“Perhaps,” Sirona said, but the look on her face showed that she didn’t believe what you were saying. You pushed what you owed for the drinks toward her, and picked up the Butterbeer. She left it there, and you headed over to your friends. You placed Ominis’ drink in front of him before settling in the free seat.

“If we don’t win, I’m quitting,” Sebastian was telling Ominis.

“Already?” you asked, giving Sebastian an amused look.

“You have no idea what Imelda is like Captain,” he responded, shaking his head. “She woke us up before dawn this morning.”

“I feel like you knew what you were signing up for,” you laughed. “It’s not like it’s a surprise that Imelda is…intense.”

“But add a little power over people,” he sighed, “and you’ll be playing Quidditch every moment you’re not in class or asleep.”

“Just the way she likes it,” you pointed out, taking a sip of your drink. “I thought you wanted to play professionally?”

“Yeah but…” he trailed off. “When did I tell you that?”

“I told her before,” Ominis piped in. “She talks to you even less than I do. We compare notes,” he added dryly. You laughed at the comment. It was perfectly true. Sebastian and you would talk maybe for a minute before class or after, but Ominis at least saw him in the Slytherin Common Room. The two of you talked about other things, but the conversation would always turn to Sebastian at one point or another. 

Sebastian frowned, but before he could say anything else about it, Ominis was talking about something else. For a while, Sebastian was uncharacteristically quiet as you two chatted about nothing in particular and drank your Butterbeers. Slowly, he became more himself, and you had to admit, it was nice to have what felt like the “old days” back again. It felt like you were back in the Undercroft, and not fighting for Sebastian’s attention. 

Once all three glasses were empty, you stood up and scooped them into your arms. “I’ll go get us more,” you declared, smiling brightly. You didn’t want things to end just yet, so another round of drinks made the most sense. You had barely been up at the bar for a minute when your seat was taken by Violet McDowell. She had pulled the chair closer to Sebastian and was leaning so near him she might as well be in his lap, and Ominis was looking almost as annoyed as you were. Sirona said nothing about the look on your face other than a glance over to your table and a head shake. 

Unable to carry all three drinks, you instead charmed the filled glasses to float in front of you as you headed back to the table. You let the three of them fall with more force than you meant to, causing loud thuds and Butterbeer to slop out over the rims and onto the table. Ominis, who couldn’t know that he should move back the way Sebastian had, got the brunt of the spill.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, more to him than the other two. “Just got away from me.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back to the castle with me?” Violet was simpering, ignoring what had just happened. “You said you’d help me with my Charms work, Bas.” You almost snorted at the nickname but managed to cover it up with a cough.

“I’ll meet you back in the common room later,” Sebastian told her, “go ahead without me.” Violet pouted, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek and look away from her. She was certainly shameless. 

“Fine! But you promised,” Violet huffed before getting up and heading out, ignoring the other two people at the table completely. Ominis was trying to clean up the spilled Butterbeer so he either didn’t notice or care about Violet’s departure. 

“I’m going to wash up,” Ominis said, standing up and shaking his hands. 

“I’m really sorry, Ominis,” you sighed, and he just shook his head.

“Accidents happen.” He disappeared upstairs, leaving you and Sebastian alone for the first time since before the summer holiday. You pulled your chair back to where it had been before Violet showed up and sat down.

Things were quiet between the two of you for a long moment. Both of you seemed more interested in your drinks than speaking, and neither one of you looked at the other. It was Sebastian who finally broke the silence.

“So…you’ve been spending a lot of time with Ominis lately,” he mentioned casually. You shrugged, looking over at him.

“I guess,” you agreed. “You and Imelda have been busy with Quidditch, so it’s just been the two of us.”

He nodded, taking a sip of his drink. “Is that the only reason?” he asked in the same casual voice, leaning forward as if he was expecting you to spill about some secret mission you and Ominis were planning. It was then that you realized that you hadn’t pulled the chair back all the way, and with your back facing the corner where the table was settled, Sebastian was boxing you in. If Sebastian had looked like he had grown before, close up, he looked to have doubled in size with him so closer now. He seemed almost impossibly broad now, and you felt nothing short of tiny in comparison. You looked up at him, confused, blushing slightly.

“Yes?” you said nervously. “Why would there be another reason?”

“Don’t know,” he responded, settling his arm on the table as he continued to lean towards you, resting his head against his hand. “I haven’t seen you much this year so I thought…” he started, but you cut him off.

“That’s not my fault, Sebastian,” you huffed. “You’re the one who doesn’t have any time for me anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” Sebastian looked taken aback at your words. 

“You’re joking, right?” you said, leaning in a little closer as you stared him down. “You’ve barely said two words for me outside of class. You don’t bother to even say hi at meals anymore.”

“I haven’t seen you,” he explained, eyebrows furrowing. “I’m not doing it on purpose.”

“Of course, you haven’t seen me.” You rolled your eyes, frustration that had been bubbling finally coming to the surface. “You’re at practice or going to class or busy showing off for Violet and those other girls that follow you around.”

“I’m not showing off for Violet,” he shot back. “Or any of those other girls. I’m not asking them to do that!”

“And you’re not telling them to leave you alone either,” you pointed out, temper creeping into your voice. “You sure seem to be loving the attention every time I see you. Why would you bother looking up to say hi to me when you have…”

“What are you two talking about?”

Ominis had reappeared at the table. Sebastian slid back, no longer crowding you into the corner, looking annoyed. 

“Nothing,” he told the other boy. He drained his entire Butterbeer before standing up. “I should head back to the Castle. Quidditch doesn’t leave much time for homework. I should catch up.” He didn’t bother waiting for either of you to say anything before starting to leave.

“Tell Violet we say hi, Bas.” The words were out of your mouth before you thought about it, and there was a small part of you that looked satisfied as a guilty look appeared on his face, but then replaced by a look of defiance. 

“I’ll see you back at the common room, Ominis,” he said and was gone a moment later. You rolled your eyes, sitting back in your chair. 

“What happened?” 

“Nothing,” you sighed. You looked at your drink, not really wanting it anymore. “Can we go back to school? I…uh, I think we’re getting close to curfew.”

“Right,” Ominis agreed, nodding. “Floo powder is faster.”

“Works for me,” you sighed, letting him lead the way over to the fire. 

_____

The first Quidditch match of the season had the entire castle beside itself. You couldn’t share in the enthusiasm-–even fellow Hufflepuffs were excited to see Ravenclaw vs Slytherin—because it meant having to see Sebastian out on the field. Even in classes over the last week, you determinedly avoided so much as looking at him. Imelda, blissfully, was too worked up about the game to notice.

In the end, you decided to go to support her. 

It hadn’t been too bad. Most of the other Hufflepuffs you were sitting with were cheering for Ravenclaw, but you and Poppy were too excited for Imelda to join in. It certainly got you two some looks from people nearby, but the excitement of seeing her score twice in a row made it easy to ignore. Despite your annoyance with him, it was still something else to see Sebastian zip by, sending bludgers toward the Ravenclaw Chasers. 

You weren’t any less glad when you two were waiting for Imelda to come out of the changing room that she was the last one out.

“Sallow went up with the rest of the team before,” she told you as you hugged her.

“I don’t care,” you huffed. “I was waiting for you.”

“Why don’t you care? Could have gotten to him before Violet McDowell did.”

“Why would you want to get Sebastian before Violet McDowell?” Poppy asked, looking between you and Imelda. You led the way back up towards the castle, your friends following behind.

“I don’t,” you responded, shaking your head. 

“What happened?” Imelda asked. “He was strange when I mentioned you before too.”

“Nothing happened,” you said. “He’d rather spend time with Violet McDowell? Fine. I don’t care.”

“Why does it matter who Sebastian spends time with?” Poppy asked. Then, she stopped. “Oh, you fancy him, don’t you?”

“Not anymore I don’t,” you huffed. “Now can we just leave it be?” Poppy, who you two hadn’t stopped for, ran to catch up with you. Imelda just laughed.

“He might be big on reading, but Sallow is as thick as they come,” she chuckled. “Good riddance, I say. You’ll do much better.”

“I always thought you and Ominis were cute together,” Poppy offered. 

“You know, he asked me if there was a reason the two of us were spending so much time alone together,” you half laughed, half scoffed. 

“You’re joking,” Imelda laughed. “When did he come to you with that idea?”

“Met us in Hogsmeade last week. He and I got into an argument and I haven’t spoken to him since,” you explained. 

“How did I miss this?” Imelda asked, and looked to Poppy. “Did you know about this?”

“No! I didn’t even know she fancied Sebastian,” she said, “no one tells me anything, apparently! All these times we’ve talked about who I fancy and…”

“I don’t fancy Sebastian,” you sighed. “At least, not anymore.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “You two would be cute together too!”

“I don’t want to ever talk to him again,” you said shortly as the door to the castle swung open. “I also don’t want to talk about him anymore.”

“That’s right!” Imelda said brightly, “Outside of Quidditch, Sallow is nothing.” When you shot her a look, she shrugged. “He’s a good Beater, you have to admit. But outside of the pitch, won’t talk to him.”

“Am I still allowed to talk to him?” asked Poppy.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t you be?” you replied. 

“Well, you aren’t and Imelda isn’t…” she trailed off, looking between the two of you. 

“I’m just doing it because it’ll annoy him,” Imelda pointed out. “Sounds like fun, right?” You rolled your eyes, putting your hands up.

“Do whatever the two of you wish, but I am not getting involved. I’m going to the library,” you announced. “I have work to do that I ignored to come watch the game.” 

“No fun!” Imelda called.

“What? It’s not like I can join the party anyway.” 

“I’d sneak you in,” she offered. “What about you, Poppy?” 

“No, I really should go check on…” she trailed off, pointing in the direction of the Beasts classroom. 

“No fun, either of you.”

You laughed, waved your goodbyes and made your way upstairs. You were barely a few steps towards the library when a voice made you jump.

“You fancied Sebastian?” 

You spun around to see Ominis nearby. Of course, he’d be in the castle. He probably wouldn’t have even gone down to the game, but leave it to him to be right there at exactly the wrong time. 

“I…” you started, sighing heavily. 

“That was why the two of you argued at The Three Broomsticks?” he guessed. 

“No!” you exclaimed. “Not really, no. I mean…”

“You were annoyed about Violet McDowell and Sebastian leaving to go with her,” Ominous stated.

“How were you not?” you shot back, panicking slightly. He was right, of course, but something about Ominis knowing felt dangerous. You could trust Imelda not to say anything to Sebastian no matter how much she threatened to, but you couldn’t say the same of Ominis. 

“Why didn’t you just tell him how you felt instead of arguing?”

“It’s not that easy, Ominis,” you sighed. “I really don’t want to talk about this. Not with you, no offense. But not anyone else either. Can you just…please don’t say anything about it.”

Ominis shrugged, and you knew that was the closest to a commitment that you’d get. “Does that mean you spend time with me to see him?” he asked quietly.

“No,” you replied quickly. “Merlin’s beard, Ominis. I’m not desperate for his attention like Violet is. We’ve been friends for years.”

“You’ve been friends with Sebastian, and I’ve been friends with Sebastian,” Ominis countered. “I didn’t think we were friends without him until recently.”

“Well, we are,” you stated. “At least I thought we were.”

“So did I,” he said.

“Then there, we’re friends, Ominis. Regardless of whether or not Sebastian is around,” you told him. 

“Isn’t this the type of thing friends talk about?” 

“I don’t know! Not always. It’s not like you go around telling me who you fancy,” you pointed out. He chuckled.

“I suppose not,” he agreed, nodding. 

“Now, can we please never speak about this again?” you pleaded. “I get enough from Imelda and Poppy just found out and now I know I’m never going to hear the end of it. I just want one friend who doesn’t care about my love life.”

“I promise, we won’t speak of your love life.”

“Thank you, Ominis. I really appreciate it,” you told him, breathing a sigh of relief. 

When the two of you parted ways a little while later, you certainly felt better about the fact that Ominis knew. You still couldn’t say for certain if he’d tell Sebastian or not. Their friendship was much longer than yours, but you at least hoped he’d take your desire to leave it alone into consideration. 

The rest of the night was dedicated to you trying to forget about the last few hours and actually trying to get your homework done. The number of people in the common room was keeping you more on task for once. If you looked busy enough, everyone would leave you alone, and you didn’t have to speak to anyone. A few people stopped to say hi, but the fact you weren’t willing to more than glance up to greet them kept you in a mostly solitary corner. 

Just when the common room was starting to clear out, and you were just about finished with your Charms work, when Poppy came through the entrance. You looked up when she called your name, holding your quill over the parchment.

“There you are!” Poppy sighed, pointing towards the door. “Sebastian’s waiting out there for you.”

“Sebastian is waiting for me,” you repeated, letting the ink drip onto your essay. 

“He is,” she confirmed. “He tried to follow me in. I had to promise to come get you.”

“I really don’t want to talk to him right now, Poppy,” you half-whined. You had already had enough uncomfortable conversations about your feelings for one day, and something told you Sebastian wasn’t there to rehash the Quidditch match. Just when you had just about convinced yourself that Ominis was going to keep your conversation between you, Sebastian was attempting to break into the Hufflepuff Common Room.

“He really wants to talk to you,” she said, shifting on her feet. 

“Fine,” you sighed, knowing that Poppy wasn’t going to tell him to go away. “He made you promise to get me to come out, didn’t he?” Poppy nodded, and you rolled your eyes, dropping his quill down. “I’ll go talk to him.”

“I’m sorry,” Poppy said quietly, and you offered her a tired smile. 

“It’s not your fault,” you assured her. “I’m annoyed with him, not you. Can you take my stuff upstairs? Just leave it on my bed. Please?”

“Sure,” she said, looking relieved that you weren’t upset with her. 

“Thanks, you’re the best,” you told her. You took a deep breath before heading for the door. You tried to mentally prepare for what was about to happen. Part of you wondered why Sebastian wanted to talk to you. Maybe make it perfectly clear that the only person he had feelings for was Violet or something.

When you stepped out into the hallway, it was to the sight of Sebastian pacing back and forth. He paused when you closed the door behind you. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, running his hand through his hair before sighing heavily.

“Sebastian, what–” you started, crossing your arms.

“I don’t fancy Violet McDowell,” he blurted out. 

“What?” 

“I don’t fancy her. That’s what you thought, isn’t it?”

“I can’t believe that Ominis told you,” you sighed, rubbing your face. The squirming you felt in the pit of your stomach was back. 

“You talked to Ominis about this?” Sebastian asked, giving you a surprised look.

“Didn’t you?” you responded, staring back at him. 

“No,” he said slowly. “He wasn’t in the common room when we got back from the match. I thought he was with you until he came back.”

“Then Imelda told you I fancy you,” you guessed. There was no other way he could have found out.

“Imelda knew…what am I talking about, of course, you talk to Imelda about this kind of thing,” Sebastian chuckled, running his hand through his hair again. “No, Imelda didn’t tell me either.”

“Then who told you?” you asked, the squirming getting worse. Sebastian looked at you, a satisfied look and a crooked smile on his face.

“You did,” he replied. “Just now.” 

“What?”

“You just said you fancied me,” Sebastian said, amusement written all over his face. “I wanted to be the one to say it first, but you couldn’t let me.” 

“I…what?” you muttered, voice quiet. The words were hitting your ears, but they weren’t making sense to your brain. You stared at him for a long moment, mouth still slightly open as he still had the same look on his face as he watched you process what he had a few moments before.

“You don’t fancy Violet,” you said slowly.

“I don’t,” Sebastian confirmed, chuckling. “I fancy you and you fancy me.”

“You do?”

“Course I do,” he replied, faltering for a moment before pulling you into a hug. The last time the two of you had hugged was to say goodbye at the end of last year, and you hadn’t been much shorter than he was. Now, though, he could easily tuck you under his chin. You managed to uncross your arms and wrap them around him, and he pulled you in closer. As small as he had made you feel at The Three Broomsticks, you were even smaller actually in his arms and you had to admit, it felt kind of nice.

“I’m sorry,” Sebastian told you. “About the whole…” he trailed off, sighing. “Fight? That was a fight, I think.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you chuckled, squeezing him before leaning back to look at him properly. “It was about something that didn’t actually happen.” You smiled up at him to show it was all water under the bridge and he smiled back, wider than ever. It wasn’t totally clear which of you made the first move, but then you were kissing and the feeling in your stomach was replaced with the butterflies that you’d felt for the last two years.

When the two of you broke apart, neither of you seemed particularly interested in letting go of each other. The thing that forced the two of you apart was the approaching footsteps of another Hufflepuff trying to get into the common room. Deciding you two needed somewhere more private, you took his hand and led him down the hallway.

“Where are we going?” Sebastian asked, squeezing your hand. However, he made no effort to let go of it, and instead just laced your fingers together. 

“Undercroft,” you informed. 

“Great idea,” he said. “Maybe we can talk about the match later.”

“If we have time,” you told him, rolling your eyes. “I think we’ll be a little busy. We have a month or two to catch up on, don’t you think?” He laughed, tugging you closer, and pressed a kiss to the top of your head as you walked. 

“Definitely,” he agreed. The two of you were all smiles as you walked down the halls, and you were just glad the two of you were on the same page again. It was even better that the page you were on was one where you were the two of you were planning on spending significantly more alone time together from now on.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #f: hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x f!mc #sebastian sallow fanfic #hogwarts legacy

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Screaming at an Empty Room -

Reintroduction/Update

Hello everyone! Probably too late to do an intro, given that I've been writing on this blog since 2017, but since I've returned after a few years away from writing, I wanted the opportunity to talk about my blog and projects completed and my upcoming plans!

I go by Avaleon everywhere else on the internet, but respond to pretty much anything, including Screaming, hey you, etc! Started this blog in my mid 20s, and aged normally into the early 30s from there. I love writing, have always loved it, but between work and life, it's definitely something that I mostly do late at night and on weekends. I love hearing from people, but I usually answer asks in bunches, and typically right before I post writing. Love hearing about other people's projects as well!

I write short stories, novellas, and occasional full length novels. I am not published, but actively working on self-publishing some of my full length works. Everything I write is posted online, I enjoy sharing my work. The main reason to self publish for me is to have physical copies for myself or anyone who might want one!

My short stories can be found under the #writing tag on my blog. As for the long completed stories, I'll post them below the cut!

Love you Tumblr, happy to be back!

A. Full Length Novels (100,000+ words)

Please Fix the Story!

Description:

I don’t know who I am. I don’t know why I’m trapped in this never ending cycle of rebirth. All I know is that I wake up inside the worlds of unfinished stories, with a mission to accomplish the author’s wishes and stabilize the worlds now headed for destruction. I do my best, hoping, praying that maybe if I complete enough missions, I’ll be able to remember my past and return to my home.

It’s just fixing stories, it should be simple enough.

So can someone explain who this random villain is who keeps following me to each world?

Masterpost linked here

2. I Can’t Eat Love

Description:

Lenora did not have a wonderful life. After her engagement to Prince Ronan is broken, she loses everything… her reputation, her home and her family. Starving on the streets, she dies angry and bitter at how her life unfolded… only to wake up in her old bed, fifteen again, five years before her death. 

Now she must struggle to change her fate, and the fate of the around her. This time she won’t trust in something as flimsy or changeable as love. No, this time she’ll have the power and the money she needs to protect herself. 

Lenora has already lost everything once. She’s not going to lose again. 

No matter the cost. 

Masterpost Linked Here

B. Novellas

I Refuse to be a Named Character

Description:

I woke up inside the world of one of the best selling fantasy book series “Deadly Crown.” Intrigue, handsome heroes, adventure… sounds great, right? Just one problem: all the named characters except the main hero and villain die, are replaced and their replacements die. Being important in this story is a death sentence, so I plan to move to the middle of nowhere, and avoid the plot! 

It should be a fool proof plan, so why do the main characters keep dragging me into the story?

Masterpost Linked Here

2. Living in a Rewrite of my Own Book World

Description:

This is the story about an author who gets hit by a car right before she can finish her bestselling book series. Trapped in the role of a terrible side character antagonist, she must find a way to change the story’s ending. Not just for her own survival, but for the characters that seem just a little too real to be fiction. (30K words)

Masterpost Linked Here

3.Baby’s First Revenge!

Description:

When Charlotte is betrayed and killed by the friend she sacrificed everything for, she thought it was the end. Instead, she found herself reborn as a baby, with her killer still enjoying the fame of stealing her work. Now, she's coming after him, and plans to make him pay... But first, nap time.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7

4. The Supervillain’s Daughter

The story of Erica, a girl who finds out that her brother is the kidnapped child of superheroes, and that her parents are villains. Years later she is the best agent in the Villain Suppression Unit, and hates everything to do with superheroes. So of course she isn’t pleased when she is paired with the strongest man alive, especially because she knows him. But with even darker parts of her past surfacing again, she will have no choice but to join forces and save the world. 

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

Other smaller works and the incomplete ones can be found on this page

Thanks everyone!

#Writeblr #writeblr intro #writers on tumblr #reintroduction after all this time #Fantasy #sci fi #short stories #thank you everyone who has stuck with me #and welcome to anyone just finding me

[setsugekka]

❥hate & hurt (with all my love) (m)

↳ two things always remained true:

1) for better or for worse, change is inevitable.

and 2) chan always came back.

bang chan x fem!reader — childhood friends to lovers, friends with benefits, heavy angst, romance, sexual content [12.5k wc] cws: physically abusive parents (somewhat detailed), parental death, emotional manipulation, drinking, recreational drug use, sex as a coping mechanism, unhealthy relationships, language, heavy themes throughout. sexual content: penetrative sex (unprotected), a lot of carelessness emotionally.

February is cold, and that's reason enough to find little joy in this month as well and many of the ones surrounding it, but your space heater at work giving out twenty minutes into your shift at work is certainly cause for more.

You can't help but wonder, how do situations like this always come to find me?

Typically not anything too egregious, but most can admit that the small things tend to add up. Now, work is cold, and you have an unreasonably large number of books to wade through that must, ultimately, find their place amongst the numerous shelves that line the walls and walkways.

What else could possibly go wrong?

A lazy thought to yourself accompanied by a similar, tired blink as you bend down behind the front counter only to then hear the doorbell ding to signify the entry of a patron. Because of course they would right now, when you've already resigned yourself to the horrors of sorting by last name.

The words begin to tumble out of you before you've even stood fully again—halfway into turning your head towards the sound as it quickly dies out behind the door closing. "Welcome, what can I do for—"

The rest of them die in your throat, which is no match for the feeling of anxiety-fueled dizziness once eyes meet.

"Chan."

In fifth grade, Chan had decided he was going to be your best friend.

It really had been as simple as that; the memory sticks out despite a long line of them that involve him, the way he had caught you on the curb after school as you waited for your parents to come pick you up—cupcake in hand, not even particularly caring of sweets.

Of course, he couldn't have known this, you weren't best friends yet.

"You're going to be my new best friend." he proudly declared, no room for argument from you.

At such a young age, girls and boys being best friends is far less of a topic for discussion as it would become later on in middle school, in high school. Not even something on the radar, in fact. Chan was friends with a lot of girls—one in particular—classes were small, and it had been simple enough to keep up with your peers even if none too close to them, yourself.

Everyone knew Chan and Sana were a package deal, until Sana's parents had decided to move elsewhere, leaving Chan without that one person that really held him down in a way that no one else really seemed to. You couldn't help but wonder why he had chosen you as the follow-up, and as adults, the idea of it wildly amusing to the both of you no matter how many times it had been rehashed.

Suppose there's something special, maybe even magical about the concept of having one, true best friend when you're a child. Nothing else like it, no one else who holds that special place in your life. Difficult to keep on keeping on without that role being filled.

Whatever the case may have been, you found yourself next in line.

And perhaps you were too young to consider how wildly bizarre such a proclamation really was in the grander scheme of things. No concept of ulterior motives (and really, what ulterior motives could this child even have), but with a bright, dimpled smile and a baked good that you didn't have any particular interest in, suppose you were down to partake in his first round of try-outs.

"Okay," you remember answering, and firmly at that. Probably because you didn't have someone holding down the title in your life, either. "Best friends then."

"Hey…"

Voice wobbly, you drop the book in hand and circle around the desk to greet the man. It's been three years at least since the last time he'd come around, not that you were ever keeping count. The two of you do something of an awkward dance with one another as you first go in for a hug and then halfway through contemplate whether or not it's appropriate to even do so. Chan, at least, attempts to meet you halfway before you second-guess the gesture.

Eventually, a messy hug is decided upon by the both of you, though not without its chaotic logistics and limbs tangling among one another like two people never before engaging in such an act with another person before.

The irony in that.

"Hey," Chan says then through a smile that's so forced you wish you could ignore it. "Didn't know you worked here."

Of course not, how could you?

"Oh, yeah, a little over a year now."

Silence.

There's a part of you that sort of hopes the floor will open up and swallow you whole, but you force yourself to remember that it's a bit like this every time he comes back around. Always too much time between the last, always so much history but not enough of it that's recent. Huge, towering holes of time left unaccounted for between you with every year that passes by. Every year since he left.

You don't blame him, not purposefully, at least. Moving away was the right call for him, and even the frequency in which he did come back coming as something of a surprise to you with how tormented his relationship with his family always had been.

Hopefully Chan says something soon, because you're out of beginning statements, not that you had all that many to begin with. Besides that, the skin on the inside of your lip is beginning to grow thin from nervous chewing, and you'd rather not have to swallow blood along with the mounting lump in your throat.

It wasn't always like this.

Chan's eyes fall to the floor between the both of you for a split second before flashing back up and towards you. It's a face that says I know, it's weird, and I'm sorry for that, but with no real ability to make it any better either. In fact, you suspect he's about to make it worse.

Call it Bestie Intuition, or whatever.

"So," he says with a drawl, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth before finally finding the strength to get the words out. "My parents died."

Oh.

There's so much history in that statement. So much feeling, and contempt, and distaste that even when he says the words as plainly as can be, you can't help but catch the hint of relief that accompanies them. It's bad enough when someone's parents pass away, even worse when there is so much love there that it's excruciating.

Where does that land those who take solace in the fact then?

Maybe once upon a time you could have reacted to the statement with unbridled and hysterical glee. Congratulations buddy! Drinks on me! a potentially anticipated response maybe five or six years ago, but now there's too much space, too much distance between the two of you to say anything other than the obvious. The standard fare towards people in grief even if they aren't, actually.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"That makes one of us."

You can't even blame him, knowing everything that you know. Parents are people and deserve the amount of respect that they give to others, and they certainly never took it upon themselves to be deserving of it from Chan, or anyone close enough to him to hear the yelling coming from the other end of the phone line, much less see the cigarette burns and bruises left when he was finally comfortable enough around someone to roll his sleeves up behind closed doors.

For people like them, you hoped Hell to be everything that the religious fanatics had ever made it out to be, and maybe even a little more.

"Anyway," he says abruptly with a sigh, not wanting to linger on the fact too long. "Next of kin, so I'm sort of tasked with dealing with the aftermath of everything. They have a shit ton of books in the basement and I heard this place takes in that kinda stuff if it's worth anything."

"Yeah, we can give them a look, for sure."

"You want to come over tonight and maybe take a look around before I bother dragging everything over here?"

Forever constant, forever in a state of metamorphosis. You wonder how the two can exist simultaneously in such a way.

He continues the thought. "They didn't die in there or anything, but you're welcomed to rummage through my mom's old shit and take anything you want. Jewelry or whatever."

"I'm sure that's precisely what you need, a constant reminder of that woman every time you see me wearing a set of earrings." you chuckle softly.

Chan grimaces. "Good point, maybe don't wear them around me. Either way, you know they have that big firepit in the back so we can have some drinks, get some food, catch up?"

Catch up. Code.

Besides the fact that Chan makes very little effort to keep up with you in all of the time that he's away; social media messages back and forth exchanged between the two of you dwindled down over the years to nothing more than the standard handful expected of friends. Birthdays, Christmas, maybe New Year’s if we're feeling particularly giving.

There's no catching up, and every time Chan has returned for one reason or another since having originally left, the knowledge that you come to learn about the new him, his new job, new everything—is limited.

A chain link fence erected between you, and perhaps the very second of his departure. You have a difficult time pinpointing the precise moment of your realization. Always held at something of an arm's length now—you can see him through the holes and around the silver, metal wiring—but you couldn't get through it if you tried.

You can't help but wonder if his new best friend lies somewhere on the other side, right beside him. Or maybe he has simply grown past the necessity for such things. An emotional crutch because he needed it as a young boy, as someone trying to make sense of the world around him and why his parents hated him so much for seemingly just existing.

Then he moved, and things got better. Chan built the fence, but never told you.

You can't help but wonder if you remind him of everything that he has tried so hard to distance himself from. Maybe you don't need a pair of earrings for that, after all.

A fence to keep him within the barrier of healing that he has created upon leaving, or to keep you out?

"Okay."

From: Weasel (lovingly)

19:12 : want to catch dinner tonight?

To: Weasel (lovingly)

19:13 : can't, something came up

From: Weasel (lovingly)

19:14 : what could have possibly come up on a thursday night?

To: Weasel (lovingly)

19:20 : chan's back in town. he stopped by the shop while i was at work. we're gonna catch up.

From: Weasel (lovingly)

19:21 : ahhhh riiiight. 'catch up' i know what that means. same thing it always does when he comes back around and is bored -_-

To: Weasel (lovingly)

19:21 : hyunjin please. his parents passed away.

From: Weasel (lovingly)

19:22 : okay? good. they were pieces of shit and i'm sure he's thrilled i don't see why he's got to pretend to drown his sorrows with getting his dick wet. he barely even talks to you when he's not around.

From: Weasel (lovingly)

19:30 : whatever. i love you. hit me up tomorrow to pick up the pieces. i'll be around.

"Fuck."

Breathy and punched out of your lungs with a particularly hard thrust, you attempt to find purchase in the sheets beneath your fingers as Chan roughly rocks into you from behind. His hands feel tight around your hips to hold you in place for him, and while you can't very well view the expression on his face from this angle, you can certainly hear the litany of bitten back groans that just occasionally drop from his lips.

"Close, close—" you follow the expletive with then, and his grip on you gets even harder—hips firmer and faster as you snake a hand down between your legs to get the rest of the way there.

You remember the first few times that you and Chan began sleeping together—taking your relationship to the next level—the both of you used to joke as if there was anything particularly romantic or emotional about it for either of you. But he used to be more involved in the process, more present, more engaged and interested and with some insatiable desire to please…even if you guys were just friends who would fuck every now and then.

The first time he came back after moving, you recognized the change.

"Chan—" you say, and receive no response.

"Fuck, you feel so good—" you continue on, an attempt to bring back some of the passion that you remember so vividly once having been there.

"Want you—"

"Shhh," you finally hear, accompanied by a particularly harsh thrust that feels something akin to some sort of threat. A few beats of silence follow after it, as if he's rethinking having ever done it to begin with before eventually landing on his feeling of correctness in doing so. "Don't talk so much."

If you were anyone else—maybe less used to this, less expecting of it—it might ruin the whole thing for you. Instead, you're thankful for the position and the way that he can't see how you roll your eyes at him, at the way that he is now before you come.

Yours brings about his, a louder, still pulled back groan as if anyone in this house is going to hear him. Chan wastes no time pulling himself from you and then flopping over to lie beside you as you situate yourself similarly.

It's always like this, every time; every feeling held so heavily in your chest bubbling up to sit inside of the dryness of your throat. Choking, drowning. Never actually dying, no matter how much you wish for the release from this.

Hyunjin always tells you not to go, and in the end, your mind is made up to do just that long before you ever even inform him of your consideration to do so. Your new best friend—though you don't call him that.

For whatever reason, you've still not been able to relinquish the title; put up 'help wanted' adds in the absence of the original title holder.

Because he's still around. Sort of.

You always wonder why you feel like crying afterwards, swallowing the burn down just in time for Chan to get up and head to the bathroom for his own clean up. It's a means to an end, less about remembering anything that ever existed between the two of you, and more about forgetting.

"I talk too much?" you finally say sarcastically as he disappears into the connected bathroom. Chan doesn't bother to stop and turn back, or really acknowledge the fact at all until a few, long moments and you hear the shrieking of the shower knob turn.

"Sometimes," he says.

"God forbid I try to spice things up with a little dirty talk, for old time's sake."

"Well, I wish you wouldn't."

Blinking slowly, the memories of doing this so many times before all come flooding back to you. A heavy sigh through your nose and you're sitting back up to collect your clothing from the floor beside the bed.

"Okay Chan," you say in response, now with evident contempt laden within it. "I won't say anything next time. I'll just come over and you can do whatever you need to do with me and then I'll go quietly, alright?"

You wonder if anything you say will even bother him, but just as quickly you hear the glass from the shower walling slide open and the man in question's head pops out from around the corner.

"You didn't come?" he says angrily, exhausted. Knowing fully well that you did. "You didn't enjoy yourself, right? Don't make me out to be the scumbag that's using you for whatever-the-fuck like you don't come over here time and time again knowing exactly what's going to take place."

He disappears back into the shower, ending it off with the additional "as if you can't just say no."

Dressed again and quickly heading down the stairs to take your leave, you don't bother informing him of the fact—you're sure he knows as much—it's far from the first time that the two of you have partaken in this exact scenario. Doing the same thing over and over again, each time thinking that the outcome will be different for some inexplicable reason.

The thought comes to mind as you reach the bottom of the stairs and upon glancing to your right, are met with a family photo of Chan with his parents—smiling, grinning ear to ear, as if the child in the photo isn't wearing jeans at the beach in the summer time because father dearest gifted him with a brand new cigarette burn only a couple of nights prior.

The thought being: perhaps he's just dealing with some things, even unbeknownst to himself. The death of loved ones is difficult even in the best of times, and you're not entirely sure where hating your abusive parents falls within the scope of that. Probably coming along with a whole different set of complications that often go unexamined, unspoken of—because God forbid you ever say it out loud, to anyone, that the people that were supposed to love, cherish and protect you did any and everything but that, and in fact, made your loving of them an abject impossibility.

Chan never told anyone else in his life about his parents abuse, only you; because the first time he admitted hating them with a shaky yet certain voice, you held his hand, gave him another red solo cup full of beer, and told him that you understood.

So, where's your red solo cup now?

It wasn't until your shared sophomore year of high school that you really started picking up on the signs.

There was always regret in that, too. That you should have noticed it earlier, but you were kids and what did you know about family dynamics that sat quite a bit outside of your own norm. In your own home, you had parents that loved you, supported you—they weren't perfect but they tried, and it wasn't until a few years into Chan's coming over to yours for dinners and hangouts that the comments about how nice your home life is started to come with more and more frequency.

"It's so nice here," he would say, as if dreaming of a life just like yours for himself. He probably was. "Your parents are so kind."

In high school—when he started going out to parties more, skipping school more, underaged drinking more like the troubled kids in movies and television shows might oftentimes be depicted in such a crude and stereotypical way—did you decide to finally take him up on one of his offers to come along with.

Sitting in the backyard of some stranger's house, probably a college aged guy that you can't imagine has any good reason to be hanging out with young high schoolers, Chan scooted his lounge chair closer to you with a sort of tipsy messiness that had you giggling at the time, though that joy was relatively short-lived.

"Remember I told you I wanted to try out for the swim team," he said just before taking a sip of a beverage he had no business drinking for his age. "I didn't make it. Go figure."

You reeled, shocked by the fact. "What? But you're good, I've timed you myself."

From a distance. Never able to get close enough before to see the implications of everything that surrounds him.

"Yeah," he sort of laughs, like he has to or else he'll cry. "Can't swim if I can't take my shirt off, can I?"

Eyebrows knitting together, you look at him contemplatively, like it's a puzzle you're meant to put together yourself except that you're missing so many of the pieces necessary in doing so. Chan's lips thin into a straight line, looking out into the empty, dark of night ahead that leads to nowhere before taking another sip of his beer.

A puzzle gifted to you, carefully handed to you personally to keep along with him. It's not so easy to just say things sometimes, sometimes…the best that you can do is just set someone up to ask so that you have a reason to say it.

"Why can't you take your shirt off?"

"We heard about Chan's parents."

Breakfast with your own folks is easy. Usually.

Mother's voice is compassionate, but beneath the words is something else—you figure that she must have some kind of understanding, if not the full picture. You never told them, it wasn't your place and you knew Chan wouldn't have wanted you to. Still, the adults in our lives have a way of knowing things without us really saying them—years of life and experience on us, after all.

"Yeah, I saw him yesterday, actually."

"How's he taking it?" your father then asks, equally compassionately-knowing.

"It's always hard I guess, he's doing his best."

"You should have him over for dinner some time," mother then adds, and internally you're screaming. "We always loved having him."

You know. They were the only set of parents in his life that loved him. Part of you doesn't want to deprive him of that, even now. Even after all of the miles of growing apart the two of you have done over the years.

You can't tell them that he only calls you when he's back in town to fuck you, there's guilt in tarnishing their opinion of him no matter how deserving of it he may be. It's not really his fault, you think to yourself, and then wonder if you'd be willing to give any other man who treats you this way the same kind of leniency in doing so.

What makes him so special? Special enough to treat you like this.

Best friends.

"I'll ask him," you lie, no intention of doing such a thing. "We have plans later in the week so I'll see what he's up to." you continue to lie, knowing perfectly well that he hasn't messaged you at all since the night before.

Three days go by without a word, and on the fourth, Chan finally messages you again.

From: Chan

13:03 : hey, i'm gonna set some of my folks shit on fire tonight in the back yard, do you want to come over?

You read over the message two, three times—biting the inside of your cheek in thought for a moment before putting your phone back into your pocket and proceeding with filing away the book in hand. This can wait, it's early enough in the afternoon that he doesn't need a reply right now, and besides, it's not like his parents’ stuff nor the firepit is going anywhere any time soon.

Plus, you're still kind of pissed off about last time, contemplating your willingness to put yourself right back into the same situation all over again, and not giving any thought to why it is that you keep doing so to begin with.

A few minutes pass, and you hear your message tone again.

From: Chan

13:08 : don't ignore me, we don't have to do anything. you're seriously mad about last time?

13:08 : you're really gonna ignore your best friend?

You're wise enough now to know manipulation when you see it, but maybe not wise enough to do anything about it just yet.

To: Chan

13:10 : yeah, i'll come over. but only because there's a photograph in there i really want to fucking burn.

"What are you going to do with the house?"

When you ask the question—and rather abruptly, at that—Chan is mid-overhead swing into tossing one of many ugly, ornate throw pillows into the billowing blaze of the fire that resides in front of the both of you. It lands with a plop, the fire moving to accommodate it only to quickly thereafter swallow it as intended. He already has another one awaiting the same fate tucked up under his other arm.

"Sell it," he says simply enough, tossing the other pillow and then hunching over to pick up his beer bottle again. "If I never see this place again it'd be too soon. I'd be happier setting this place ablaze, but you know, laws."

"Yeah, I've heard people are a little touchy about arson nowadays." you chuckle.

It's only then that you really put two and two together—the death of his parents, the selling of the property, and what that means for any future of him ever returning to this city again. If you had to guess, it's a weight lifted off of his shoulders, the no longer having to play pretend with these people even with the rarity in which he has done so now into adulthood.

No more pretend, no more reason to ever come back here.

Your chest feels tight at the thought. All Chan has spent the past few years doing is creating space between you and him, and now? The final nail in the coffin of your friendship. It was good while it lasted! you imagine him saying to you in some flippant, heartless way while not necessarily meaning for it to come out as such, but you can't help but latch onto the thought and think it further through—when was it good? Not for a long time, now.

"It's getting chilly, we should go back inside soon."

On your lap sits the picture from the wall at the bottom of the stairs, and as you pick it up and stand to throw it into the fire, Chan happens to take notice of your choice. The two of you meet eyes, and for a second you wonder if there's a part of him that wishes to protest in your doing so—you wait, give him time to say not that one, or anything of the sort, but instead you're met with a bizarre concoction of softness and relief. As if he's thankful for your being there, because you're strong enough to do it, and maybe he kind of isn't sometimes.

Chan takes a sip of his beer as you throw the framed photograph into the flames, right where it belongs, and as the both of you watch it burn, you still watch him out of the peripheral of your vision.

"I still have some of the scars," he says. No particular feeling behind the words. Stating the obvious.

"I know," you reply softly, opting into biting your tongue so that the pressure of angrily gritted teeth doesn't give you a headache. "I see them every time."

"Why did we never date?" you ask, somewhat drunkenly and from the far end of a couch that no longer adorns ugly pillows as decoration.

Chan's eyes narrow towards you, beer bottle in hand and a movie that neither of you care about playing on the television that's actually kind of nice—he has decided to take that back with him instead of destroying it. Him enjoying it would probably piss his parents off more, anyway.

"What kind of insane question? What do you mean why?"

Inside, the house is warm but empty and dark in a way that somehow feels fitting, all things considered. It's somewhat eerie—maybe because people who were once evil and now are dead once lived between the walls—too much space for how little space the both of you take up inside of it. Strangers inside of someone else's home, a place that doesn't belong to either of them, even with the ties of familial relation present.

"I feel like it's pretty common in high school that best friends catch feelings and eventually date, or at least try it out just to see because they don't know any better—Oh! Remember when Jisung thought we were totally dating in junior year just because he saw us sneaking off to your car during lunch period?"

Chan snorts into his bottle at the memory. "I mean, we were definitely sneaking off to do something, but it didn't have anything to do with us dating."

"I don't know, I guess it's fascinating that through all those years, and hormones, and puberty, and even actually sleeping together we just never…thought about it."

You had. Pretending that you hadn't was a long-upheld lie told not only to him, but especially to yourself. Chan was unreachable past a certain point, and you knew it well enough. In high school, the relationship between the two of you had reached its blissful peak, though you suppose you hadn't known it at the time.

The top of the mountain. Then graduation came, and the subsequent scaling down the other side of it.

"I was never in any position to have a girlfriend, you know that."

He doesn't bother going into detail, he doesn't really need to, either.

Unable to take his clothing off for the swimming team, unable to take his clothing off for any potential partners. Only for you.

"My parents asked if you wanted to come by for dinner some time, by the way," you finally say, though originally with no intention of doing so. Part of you silently begs for him to say no.

He smiles gently. "That's nice of them."

Close enough.

A few awkward beats of silence make themselves known between the two of you before Chan finally sets his empty beer bottle down and slides himself closer towards your end of the couch. He doesn't say anything—doesn't really need to when his hands curve around your calves and pull you down into a lying position against the cushions for him to settle himself between.

Up over your knees and down the slope of your thighs towards the button on your jeans, he's quick with it—always has been—and shimmying the fabric down your legs along with your underwear, well, you knew this was going to happen.

Chan sits up, thumbs his own pants open and pulls them down his hips just enough to expose himself as necessary. He extends a hand towards you to help you up and to bring you over onto his lap, though you're met with the intrusion of fingers before anything bigger makes an attempt.

Whining into the crook of his neck, Chan smells like burnt firewood and beer. As well as cowardice and selfishness and a lot of regret shared between the two of you.

When you're ready, you say as much—sinking down slowly onto him and being met with the trembling exhale of his breath against your ear once fully seated. One hand comes up to the back of your head as if to hold you in place, as if you have anywhere else to go.

At least this time you know better. Better than to try to engage him in any way outside of precisely what this is at its foundation. It's been a long time coming, but you know where you stand.

It still feels like shit, though.

Fit and strong, Chan lifts you up and pulls you down along him in all of the right ways, because sex with him has never been anything but perfect. Just the right amount of everything to a shocking degree, though it has waned ever so slightly over the years.

Pulling away from his neck, the circling of his t-shirt slides to the side ever so slightly to make one of many scars along his body known to you. It's not new—far from it—and you know the stories behind most of them anyway. This one in particular; a long burn about the length of a toothpick just over his shoulder. Mother curling her hair in the bathroom and he young child having the audacity to desire loving attention from her.

How can anyone be so cruel?

Leaning down, you kiss it lightly, then thumb over it gently as if doing so will offer him some sort of solace whilst inside of you.

Instead, it does the opposite.

"What are you doing?" he says, sudden and curt but still dragging your body along his own. "Don't touch—"

You're happy to apologize for having done so, and there's terror that springs up in your chest though it feels somewhat displaced. An acute feeling of fright at what's about to happen to you in the way that his voice changes with each word that drops from his mouth, and before he is even able to finish the sentence, Chan is pulling you off of him entirely, and pulling his pants back up instead.

"Why do you have to do this? Why do you always have to do shit like this? Every single time."

"I'm sorry! I didn't really think about it, I didn't think you would—" you stammer in response, word vomiting in an attempt to quell the volcano in front of you at any cost.

"Didn't think I would notice? Like I don't have a perfect mapping of every single scar, every single memory that these people left on me in all of the years that I was under their care?"

The last word being so rife with sarcasm that you can't help but recoil from the way that he says it. It's so stupid, so so stupid because of course he knows. As if he will ever be able to forget so long as he lives.

You claw to get dressed again, scrambling your things together quickly as Chan stands and runs a hand through his hair like he isn't entirely sure of how he wants to even deal with this. Like he's trying not to say something that he doesn't mean, or maybe something that he does.

"Can't we ever just have a nice, fun time together?" he finally lands on, exasperated and airy in the words. "Can't we just fuck like old times when I'm in town without you doing something to make me fucking regret it?"

You full stop. Rage and confusion and hurt feelings simultaneously all making their way through every nerve and every bone in your body—a race to see which one gets out first and is the underlying emotion within your reply.

"Regret it? You regret it?"

Rage wins.

"You fucking regret it?" you ask, once again laden with sarcasm as so many times before, because the concept of what he says is just so selfish that you can barely even fathom it. "We were best friends for years, we grew up together, you were everything to me and when you left, I understood why—I was happy for you, I wanted you to heal. Then the messages died off, your visits died off, and the only time you've ever been bothered to come and find me when you are in town is because you know I'm an easy lay for you, isn't that right?"

Chan doesn't answer, but his face has since twisted into something you can't even really recognize. Somewhere between disgust and awareness, though you can't be certain which one is meant for who.

"Right?" you nod, continuing on—halfway into a laugh now as if delusionally humored by the fact now that everything is laid out onto the table. "We're not friends, we're certainly not best friends anymore. You come find me when you're in town because you know that even though you've moved on from this place, from everything that happened to you here, from me—I haven't. And when you fancy yourself a pathetic fuck for old times’ sake, you know exactly who to call, right?"

There's only a second of silence, Chan begins to say no. Not that you let him.

"Right? Isn't that right? You can say it, we're all friends here, allegedly." you laugh again.

You grab your bag from the floor next to the couch, sling it over your shoulder, and make your way towards the front door.

"That's not true." he says, defeated, like the words are what he means but he knows his actions have said otherwise time and time again.

"Sorry about your scar, I shouldn't have done that," you say with finality as you reach the door and crack it open for your departure. "Now please do us both the favor and never contact me again."

"You look so pretty like this, you know."

One of Chan's old things that he would be so amused by was calling you pretty, gorgeous, beautiful—something of the like—when either covered with his cum, or stuffed full of his dick. It became such a thing, that he would make allusions to it even outside of the bedroom, though no one else in your shared circle of friends would ever become any of the wiser about what all of the giggles were about.

The night before he moved and with legs hooked up over his shoulders, you remember the words like they were yesterday. Like they were important.

Maybe to you they were.

"I'm going to miss you saying super annoying stuff like this," you said, an airy giggle punched out of you with his deeper drive inside. "Who else will call me pretty while balls deep inside of me?"

"I don't think you'll have a particularly hard time finding that."

For years, the words would pop up in your memory—trying to dissect some hidden meaning between them. As a relatively inexperienced teenager, you didn't really understand what he had meant by it. Now, obviously, it's not that uncommon for guys to be in their lovers’ guts and calling them pretty, it's actually pretty common. Though, Chan hadn't said it since then.

The first time back since moving, Chan fucked you the same as always, though a little bit quieter, a little less verbal, and with eyes that didn't meet your own quite as much as you remembered from before. Only a year between, maybe you were remembering it differently than it was. Maybe you had just placed a lot of extra thought and feeling where it never really belonged to begin with.

You didn't recall it feeling so much like just sex as it did upon his return, always a little something extra, a little something different that felt like some kind of intangible more that also sort of wasn't there at all.

And thinking back to before the move, before everything changed—you remember lying with him after the fact as he checked social media from his phone, damp from sweat and other such sticky bodily fluids.

A fingertip lightly tracing over the scars, and Chan softly smiling into the touch.

"And then I told him that I don't think I was going to want to fuck some guy who wants me to do his laundry every time I come over, like, isn't that fuckin' weird?"

"Extremely weird," you reply, nodding lightly towards Hyunjin in agreement as you take a sip from your beverage. "Sounds like he wanted you to be his mommy or something."

"Uhg," Hyunjin sighs out in answer to such a concept, leaning back into his chair and slinging one arm up over the back. "Totally fuckin' weird."

It's a typical spot for the two of you to be dining at: a small, relatively unknown corner restaurant that sells mostly sandwiches and drinks and not much else outside of that. Not far from your job, and an ideal meeting place when Hyunjin texts you to catch a break and get a bite to eat real quick.

You take a bite of your food in the small lull in conversation, though Hyunjin's strange, stiff movement stirs your attention quickly back to him. Mouth a little too stuffed full of bread to ask, you unfortunately have no other choice but to try to make out what's happening based on the expressiveness of his face—and expressive he is—first eyes wide in shock, then narrowed in what you can only gather is disapproval of some sort.

"Not you…"

"Hey."

You don't choke on your food and that's impressive enough of a feat once it immediately dawns on you just who it is and why it is that Hyunjin is so suddenly displeased. They don't have history—not really, not personally—but he's heard enough in the meantime since Chan has left that he's been able to construct enough of his own opinion about the guy.

They met once, Hyunjin was cordial enough. Earlier into Chan's Return To Fuck And Then Disappear Without A Trace tour that he was much more able to pretend that he respects the man at all.

"What?" Hyunjin says, already an evident bite to it that you have concern might start something of a scene. "What do you want? What are you doing here?"

"Easy man," Chan answers, hands up in the air in front of him like he's already admitting defeat at the scene. Probably a good idea. "I just want to talk to her. No funny business."

"You'll have to forgive me for not exactly believing you have the best intentions at heart. You never really do, after all."

"Look, I know you have some problem with me and that's fine but I didn't come here to fight with you about—"

"Alright, enough."

When you finally speak up, it shuts the other two up almost immediately. You're thankful for that, because you don't really want to have to fight or plead or get into something of a shouting match just to settle this situation. Especially in public.

So, you sigh, putting your fork down against the plate and looking up towards Chan as he stands beside the table—a strange sort of half-frown curved into his lips, like he knows it's there and he's trying to not look so pathetic but he also can't entirely help it.

"How did you find me?" you question, exasperated.

He shrugs. "Snapchat location. Sorry."

Turning to look towards Hyunjin—who is now rolling his eyes at the simplicity of the mistake—you shake your head and whisper something to the effect of rookie mistake, then stand slowly from the table and point a finger straight into Chan's face.

"You've got thirty minutes. Hope you brought a script."

Chan's truck is just like you remember it.

It's not often that you find yourself riding with him in it, and for obvious enough reasons. Neither he, nor his parents, ever sold it once he moved out of town and thus it has remained in the driveway of his folks' home for years—awaiting he return once more.

One of the tires feels a little bit wobblier than you remember, perhaps an alignment that needs retuning and a suspicious clicking sound that may or may not be coming from the transmission. No doubt the wear and tear of years of neglect, but Chan doesn't really need the thing to be in perfect working order anyways, as the backend is filled as full as road-safety-possible with things he intends to drop off at the dump.

A fifteen minute drive of silence, meaning that he only has another fifteen once he parks the vehicle and the two of you sit in each other's company awkwardly.

If you intend to keep count, of course.

The radio is on but it's so low that you can't make out any of the words being said, paired with the static of being such an old model—it gives you something to hone your attention in on though, rather than the nervous way in which Chan picks at the skin around his nails as he presumably tries to figure out how to make this better without ever admitting fault.

You can make it a lot easier on him, because you've already come to a conclusion of your own approximately a week prior—maybe even more. Maybe the last night you were with Chan at all.

"I don't want to have sex with you anymore."

"Why?"

He answers it surprisingly quick, and that kind of makes you feel worse about the whole thing; such a nasty, sinking stomach feeling that hangs in your gut about how it really only ever has been about the sex for him ever since he left. That you carry no other meaning, no other interest to him outside of being able to offer that when he happens to come around.

Might as well tell the truth, the whole truth.

"Because you don't make me feel like I'm actually there."

Chan's eyes remain glued on you, and although his expression is one of confusion mostly, there's a particular hint of disgust that settles through upon hearing that. Like he didn't know. Like this is news to him.

"Rather, having sex with you makes me feel as though you wish I wasn't."

Looking at Chan is hard, but you suppose it has been for a long time. Like looking down the barrel of a loaded gun, one with the high probability of misfiring and killing the person standing at the wrong end.

You take the opportunity as the man sits dazed to grip at the door handle and jimmy it open with the kind of practiced ease that tells the story of having done so many times previously. A door rusted and misshapen from the elements, a door that Chan undoubtedly would have to reach over and open for anyone else.

But not you. No, you've been here so many times before, you know this door like the back of your own hand, and that makes all of this hurt just that much more. Every happening, no matter how small and seemingly insignificant carrying the weight of the world within—the weight of years of friendship, the weight of something else not dare ever said.

Slipping out of the seat, it takes Chan a few moments to even realize what's happened; already a good bit of the ways back down the nasty, dirty road of the dump back towards the main road. You hear the truck rev back to life, tires spinning beneath themselves before he manages to pull it back around and meanders up beside you as you continue walking towards the pavement with phone in hand.

"Come on, don't do that. Why are you walking home, seriously?"

It must be your lucky day—though, you're not entirely sure how much of that can be true on account of the way that all of this has played out. You know when to take the wins that life hands you through the abundance of otherwise losses, though, and when you manage to snag a rideshare that's only five minutes away from your current and completely bizarre location, you breathe a sigh of relief, and allow yourself the freedom to tell your best friend precisely what it is that's been eating away at your mind since that night. Since before that night, really, though it's been difficult to come to terms, find the words, and swallow down the feeling of wanting to vomit every time you have to make peace with it in some way.

"Because we're not friends," you say firmly, looking him dead in the eye as you do so. "We haven't been for a long time, and I hate to admit that now I'm wondering if we ever really were."

The truck slows to a standstill as the words wash over the receiver, and you're proud of yourself for how strong you must appear to look.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, is what really rattles through your mind with each step away that you take. Go back to him. Don't go back to him. He's fucked up and you know that but you know he's a good guy. Dealing with his issues isn't your responsibility.

You are not a rehabilitation center for fucked up men.

Between the back and forth in your mind, the to and fro in such a way—an internal battle that feels like every organ inside of your chest is being strangled and wrung out on the cool, dusty flooring beneath your feet—that is the one thing you keep reminding yourself like a cultist chant. Over and over and over again until you're inside of your ride and swept off towards your home.

Where you can cry in peace, be honest with yourself and your feelings and not have to put on a face of strength in front of a man who wouldn't be able to bear the truth upon his own shoulders if he tried.

"What if I said I thought I was in love with you?"

You had huffed out something of a laugh at the words, not really sure what to do with them but opting out of putting much stock in what was said at the time either.

There was a brief glance towards him, not that it made much of a difference in the pitch black darkness of the bedroom closet where the two of you were seated. It was another house party that you somehow had gotten roped into—the last week particularly bad at Chan's house, and he had the bruises on his arms to prove it.

When things had been particularly bad at home, Chan acted out just that much more in an attempt to not have to think about it—not have to count how many days there were left until he would be able to escape. Heavier drinking, more reckless driving, longer nights out and less days in school for you to be able to check up on him, so sometimes coming out was the only way you'd be able to keep something of an eye on him.

He wasn't drunk this time—a brief moment of relief felt—squashed by him admitting instead to partaking in the joys of recreational cough syrup abuse.

And so, here the two of you sat now; two in the morning on a school night as Chan rests curled up in the dark of someone's closet because the trip had become just a little bit too much. You didn't know much about this sort of thing outside of the bit of reading you'd done, but auditory hallucinations were not uncommon.

"And why would you say that?" you asked him in response, because it wasn't really the time for this sort of conversation, and you weren't sure if there ever really was going to be a time for it either.

"Why not?"

"That doesn't seem like a very good reason to say it," you replied, playing it cool as best as you could, all things considered. "Plus, I don't know that you're in the best state of mind to be making any sweeping declarations of love to anybody."

Chan sat up straighter, as if his ability to be upright was meant to prove you wrong on the matter. His hand fished around in the dark for something—grabbing at your sweater, then your leg, until inevitably finding its target in your hand and clumsily curling fingers within your own.

"You're always so difficult when it comes to talking about feelings, but I guess that's something that the both of us understand pretty well, isn't it?"

Yeah.

You hadn't bother responding verbally to it, and eventually Chan changed the subject towards some other inane story that barely had a conscious beginning, middle or end. Or maybe it did—your mind still wholly left back on the original comment, revisited frequently for many years to come.

Over two days, twenty-two missed calls, and fifteen ignored text messages, the one that finally has to drop the wall that you've now erected between the two of you is one that you always knew to be coming anyway. Reading the words hits you harder than expected though, maybe because you thought you would have more time to make things right.

From: Chan

18:09 : i know you're not talking to me but wanted to let you know i got someone to deal with selling the house, so i'll be leaving town tomorrow finally. it was nice seeing you.

You lose count of how many times you've banged on the old, ornate wooden door in front of you, though you accept that little time has passed since your beginning of doing so. Do you look deranged to any potential passerby? Probably. You can't be bothered with that right now, however.

Halfway into another swing towards it, the door finally budges and pulls open abruptly—Chan stands there with something of a confused, slightly dim-witted expression that would likely have the ability to melt your heart if not for the beating that it's already taken in his brief stint of being here. Bandaged and bruised and with wounds barely scabbed over, your heart aches upon laying eyes on him again because now you know for sure, without a shadow of a doubt, that this will be the last time.

Chan always came back. Until, of course, he wouldn't anymore.

"I…" he starts, slowly, clearly somewhat confused by not only your fervor in banging on the door but also just your being there at all. "I didn't think you would come. I was on the phone, I thought it was—forget it. Hi?"

"What happened with my parents a year ago? When my mother went on vacation without my father?"

You watch Chan's eyebrows slowly pull together at the center of his face, contemplating not only the question itself but the purpose of you presenting it entirely. When you urge him further, he stutters and falters under the time crunch, garbled words lost in a mouth that has no idea what to do with them.

"I—I don't know!"

"Last summer, I was considering staying abroad somewhere. Where was I thinking of going?"

This time the thinking through of your question is shorter, most likely on account of his catching on to the reasoning behind them.

"I don't know."

"And when I finally adopted my dog, the dog that I loved so dearly and had been looking forward to so much, what did I decide to name him?"

Chan's features have since twisted into something more akin to compassionate sadness—and no doubt because he has figured out the purpose behind all of this.

"I didn't know you have a dog."

"I don't," you sigh, fighting tooth and nail to choke back the sob that threatens your throat and chest. "He got hit by a car five months after I adopted him."

Closing his eyes, Chan's body goes limp in front of you as his head drops to face more towards the floor than to you. You don't really understand how it is that he couldn't have known, gone all of this time without knowing anything happening in your life, and still thinking that everything could remain precisely as he left it between the two of you during his short visits back.

Treating you like you only matter when right in front of him, something that he has no choice but to acknowledge then.

"My mother had an affair, it almost ruined their marriage. Actually, I would say that it has, they've just stayed together through it anyway, I don't know why. I wanted to go to Switzerland, because it'd have been such a huge change of scenery. And his name was Greg, because I thought it would be funny to give a dog a person name."

Chan lets out a small huff of laughter through his nose, seemingly unsure as to whether or not he's even allowed to find humor in such a thing now.

"It is funny."

"Why did you shut me out when you left?"

Even just saying the words feels like a punch to the gut—toppling over and grasping at your midsection in thought of it as you somehow manage to say what it is that you've been thinking for all of these years since then. It feels so bad to acknowledge it for what it is; eyes stinging and so unfathomably choked up that it feels as though you're drowning on the doorstep of people who eventually got what was coming to them. For living as terribly as they did, and taking their poor son down with them until he remain unable to self-regulate even after they've passed on.

"Do you want to come in?" Chan says then, a shake to his voice that you haven't heard from him in a long, long time.

It reminds you of the first time he told you about everything. About them. About his life. The terror of opening up and being honest and God forbid…telling somebody the truth.

"Please…please come in," he finishes in a plead.

The house is mostly empty now.

He's certainly made quick work of it, and you can't help but assume it to be largely on account of wanting to end his time attached to this city as swiftly as he possibly can. There's a strange, looming ambiance of sadness that sits idly in the air as you follow Chan inside, up the stairs, and towards what once was his bedroom. So many memories residing in these walls—almost none of them pleasant—you imagine a child that at some point in time was happy here, playing with toys, loved…until one day everything changed. Forever and for always.

Chan keeps his hands stuffed into the pockets of his gym shorts like he's afraid of daring to touch the walls or the railing of the stairway. Like having done so had once resulted in one of the many scars that sit along his flesh to this day. It's only once the two of you reach his bedroom door and he nudges it open does he finally withdraw them and usher you inside with the flip of a switch along the wall.

Inside, only a small handful of things remain; bed still intact with a small box set beside it, as well as his suitcase sitting next to the doorway.

He takes short strides towards the bed, slightly hunched as if still nothing more than a child who is the recipient of a scolding like so many times before in this home. Old habits die hard.

Chan sits on the mattress with a metallic creaking that follows the bend of it, and with a pitiful running of his palms over his face, he finally manages to gather the courage to look you in the eye again.

"When I was eight, my dad started telling me that no one would ever love me like they did. No one would ever love me because there was nothing about me that was worth loving. I don't think I ever told you this."

He hadn't, but the thought of it makes your stomach drop. You wonder how many other stories of the same caliber he has still tucked away in the back of his mind, things that he dares not spare conscious thought to, yet they seep into everything that he does regardless of the fact.

He chuckles a bit before continuing the thought.

"It's like, you try not to believe that stuff, you know? But when the people who are supposed to be the ones who are everything to you are the ones saying it, it's hard not to believe it. I grew up seeing depictions of families on television, from my friends, the movies—that was never my reality—but I had to believe that they loved me, because if they didn't then how could anyone else possibly do so?"

"Your parents were shitty people, Chan," you say firmly.

"I know. I mean, I know that now, right? Because I'm an adult, and even as a teenager I knew that. Maybe I was lucky in the way that I started hating them young, it gave me the gift of sight, to see them for precisely what they were and not have that veil kept over my eyes for any longer than I had already lived with it, but still…"

"It's hard. Hard to accept. To move on from."

"Yeah, exactly."

Remaining steadfast in the center of the room, you can't do much else besides look upon him as he continues thinking through the words that he wishes to say to you. He's missed so much of your life as an adult, and it's no one’s fault but his own. The price he has to pay, but still a difficult pill to swallow as someone who wants nothing more than to have him there.

It's always been like that, for as long as you can really remember.

"I don't think I ever really knew what love actually was, or looked like. What it felt like to have it, or to give it to someone else. I think I tried. I think I tried a lot, with you, with us. But—"

Chan grimaces then, as if the memory of so many attempts to do something right and failing are all coming flooding back to him like a tidal wave. He flexes his hands twice, a subtle jerk to his head before finishing his words.

"I just couldn't ever get it right. So when I left—"

"You stopped trying."

With a couple of small nods, Chan's eyes finally come up enough to meet yours. "Yeah."

More than anything else, you know there is deep self-loathing and disappointment embedded within him. Thoughts and feelings and regrets that the man has spent years trying to bury in hopes of never having to face them ever again, now all laid out on the table before you in the most honest and vulnerable display.

I love you, I love you, I love you, you think to yourself as you watch his eyes dance and glitter in the shining light of the overhead lamp. Chan had said it to you once before, so why can't you now? Frozen in place and terrified of the potential outcome from such an outburst. Say it, say it, say it—

"Anyway, after tomorrow I won't be back here. The rest of the paperwork I can do back at home, so we don't have to, like," he pauses mid-sentence, glancing away for a split second before attempting to come back to find your gaze—falling short of it and looking past you, instead. "Ya know, do this again. This is the last time."

Ask me to come with you, ask me to come with you, ask me to come with you. "I guess that's for the best, for you."

He laughs again, now giving up the ruse of ever trying to look you in the eye at all and instead looking off to the side, elsewhere entirely.

"For me, for you. For both of us, probably."

Chest tight and that familiar choking dryness in your throat once again making itself known, you have no other option but to attempt to swallow it down—take this well, guard yourself and your own feelings when it comes to him because he has dropped the ball in doing so time and time again. Chan can't be what you want him to be for you, and maybe he never really could have been. A teenage dream; where love conquers all, even very real, very present trauma.

"I just didn't want to leave and you think that I've been like…doing this on purpose. Hurting you, I mean. I've never wanted to do that. You've only ever been the person in my life who has meant the most to me, and I'm sorry for how I've treated you since I left. When I came back. Everything. You don't deserve that."

I don't, but you can be better too.

"You remind me of being here, but you probably think it's only in all of the worst ways. That's true, but it's not only that. You're the only thing that makes ever coming back to this city bearable," Chan says, now finally able to meet your eyes again. "I should have done a better job at making the feeling mutual."

You want to speak, so badly have so much that you wish to say. The words get lost in your throat before they ever meet the air of the room, however. Say it, say it, say it.

"Well, I ought to get you home, huh?" he then says with a bit more of a chipperness to his tone. Standing to his feet and making his way towards you. "Your parents like me, don't want to burn every bridge when I leave."

It takes you by force before you have even so much as an opportunity to consider otherwise; arms stretched out and around him, pulling him close and hard against you, completely closing any of the distance that remained between your bodies. Chan collides into you with something of an amused and stumbling huff, but allows the embrace to carry on while you shove your face into the soft, warm plush of his black sweatshirt.

The sob that rips through you is nearly choking, and you no longer have the ability to fight it back any longer as your fingertips grip hard into the fabric beneath—as if in an attempt to keep him there, precisely where he is. Precisely where he has always belonged.

Don't go, don't go, don't go. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Chan holds you there in the middle of his childhood bedroom, full of horrific memories, old cigarette smell, and almost certainly a long forgotten splattering of blood that had been missed over the years.

"Hey," he whispers eventually, what feels like hours having passed since the first moment of your intimacy shared like this. "Hey…don't cry."

The words are so softly spoken, it almost doesn't sound like the man you know at all. You can't help but snort at the fact though, because what an absolutely asinine thing to say, all things considered. Still, Chan sets his hands on your shoulders and pulls you back just enough to get a good look at you—tear-stained cheeks and wet eyelashes clumped together in a mess with a quivering lip that just won't seem to quit.

And still, he smiles. Lips thin and tight, but at the very least, he is at peace. He is happy.

Because of you. Because of your love for him, felt but not spoken.

"Remember the good stuff, yeah? It wasn't all bad, though maybe you were better for me than I ever was for you. I think that might have always been destined to be the case. Ever since I picked you back in grade school, just looking for another girl to save me, huh?"

"Why do you say stuff like that?" you manage out through a sniffle, a lazy attempt made at drying your face in the aftermath. What you really mean, however, is why do you still believe you have nothing to offer? Why do you still believe you're unworthy of other people's love?

"Hey." he says again, and this time you're able to give him your attention as you look him in the eye from where you stand.

The two of you stand like that in silence for a long moment. Chan nervously biting at his bottom lip as if everything that he has ever wanted to say to you lie just behind it, desperately waiting to be freed.

"I—"

Chan kisses you then for the first time in years. Soft and meaningful, as if everything he has ever thought and felt reside in it. No good at words (neither of you are), so maybe this will simply have to do.

Heart beating so fervently against your chest that you worry your ribcage may shatter beneath your flesh, Chan brings himself away and creates space between the two of you once again, though his eyes never leave yours for a second.

"Come on, let's get you home. You can come by tomorrow morning before I leave at noon if you really want to kick me to the curb yourself."

Waking up feels harder than ever, but simultaneously different in a new and exhilarating way.

It's sunny out—surprising enough considering the time of year—and you can hear your mother downstairs making breakfast as your father's footsteps make a sound one after the other as he heads up the stairs and most likely towards your bedroom to inform you of the impending morning feast.

But you don't have time for breakfast, because you have your future to enact.

You've pre-packed a bag, done so shortly after getting back up to your room the night before. The decision has been made to tell him, tell him everything, be completely open and honest about your feelings because you've never been more sure of anything before in your life.

Chan isn't perfect, but he doesn't have to be. You know him well enough to know that along with his faults come the newfound ability to become better, to grow, to heal. To work hard to become the best version of himself he can possibly be. Not only for himself, but for your future together as well.

Two knocks at your door, you call for your father to come in.

In hand, he has a small, white envelope, and though you can't quite put your finger on why just yet, you feel the beginnings of your stomach dropping in real time as he motions to hold it up for viewing.

"This was left at the doorstep this morning, must have been early, was already there when we stepped out to go for a walk."

You sit up abruptly, reaching wildly at the item and begging for what you think to be true, to not be.

Please don't do this, please don't do this, please don't do this.

"It's addressed to you," he finishes, though it's already in your hands by the time the sentence finds its end. Bless your father, always a perceptive one, takes his leave immediately thereafter.

Prying the envelope open, you pull out what's inside. White, folded paper from some notebook with the edges where it was torn all frayed and messy. You try desperately to swallow back the sob that's already attempting to make its way up and out of you, though you don't have the strength in you to do so as you unfold the item and inhale shakily to center yourself for reading.

We were so close, please, I love you.

At the top, right hand corner of the paper sits a scribbled little picture of a cupcake—brown paper to hold it and pink frosting with little blue and purple flecks on top for sprinkles. He must have found some colored pencils and decided to make good use of them for this in particular, or bought them precisely for this.

'Back at home, I've been a swim instructor for young kids for a few years. It's deeply rewarding, and I finally get to do the swimming thing like I've always wanted to. Well, not exactly, but at least I can take my shirt off in the pool now and I don't have to feel bad about whether or not people are looking at the scars.

I have a dog, too. Her name is Berry. I'm sorry I wasn't there for the joy and the loss of your friend, I think I'll always deeply regret that, right along with everything else about your life that I've missed when we could have just as easily shared it together.

I've never been very good at saying stuff, and neither have you. I think that's what always made our friendship so easy, because we clicked so well on a level that didn't require words. I've never had that with anyone else, and I don't think I ever will again. I have a lot of regrets, they all kind of involve you haha. Not your fault, you've always been amazing, but I don't think I've ever really known how to give that back in the way that you deserve to receive it. There's a saying, 'people know how to give love, but they don't as easily know how to receive it,' and I guess I've somehow landed myself as the worst of both worlds, because I don't know how to do either of them.

All of this is to say: sorry for lying about when I was leaving, I guess you've probably gathered by now that I'm a coward who ran away all over again, just like I did before. I run away when I'm given the opportunity to do so, because that's all I've ever known how to do. I want to be honest with you, I really, really do, but I'm scared about what that could mean. How I can't run anymore if I am.

I don't want to lie, and I can't tell the truth. So, I ran.'

By the end of the letter, your eyes are barely able to focus on the words—blurred vision through tears and shaking hands that won't allow you to hold the paper still between your fingers. You sob and sob, choked and desperate for quick breaths that have you heaving where you sit at the loss of the one thing you've wanted—the one person you've wanted—through it all. A beacon of hope, a small glimpse of promise as the two of you stood together in one another’s embrace in the middle of his old, and now to be forgotten, bedroom floor.

You clutch the paper tightly in hand, nearly crumpling it entirely before you realize you don't want to ruin it, but the act of having done so folding the bottom left edge over just enough to show there to be more written on the other side. Numbers as well as letters.

And so, you turn it over.

This time, a crudely drawn picture of a key next to a house; a stick figure in a black hoodie, another stick figure in the coat you had been wearing the night before, and a small, cute dog.

Below it all sits another note, much shorter and succinct in length.

'but if by chance you find the strength to say the words that I can't—no more walls, no more fences.'

Then just below that sits an address, and a gate code that has you jumping out of bed and reaching for the closest pair of pants that you can get your hands on, as if every second is more time wasted, more time slipping through your fingers at finally making all of this right.

'143—you figure it out haha.'

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask.

—this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.

#bang chan smut #stray kids smut #bang chan x you #bang chan x reader #bang chan x y/n #bang chan imagines #bang chan scenarios #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz smut #skz x reader #skz x you #skz x y/n #skz imagines #skz scenarios

[radiocrypt-id]

The Sacrifice of The Frog Prince

The book, The Frog Prince, has been renamed.

No longer is it about a rude little boy, punished by a stranger and cursed to be a frog until someone decides to love him despite his flaws. No. Now, it is as we know it, The Princess and The Frog. Now it is about a little girl who met a silly little frog deep in the woods while she was playing, who returned her precious golden ball and claims to be a prince from some such other kingdom. Now the story, in which the princess was a means to an end, a lesson to be learned and then dismissed, is about the Princess and her choice to befriend a silly little frog from the pond. She is no longer the "true love" made just for the frog, but he is hers. The Frog is nameless, as many creatures are, as many princes are. For their names aren't important, just their roles.

The Frog, always claiming to be a prince, that the shape he's in is temporary, as soon as someone loves him enough despite his being a frog. He could be a prince again, if someone would just love him. Of course, The Frog is bound by a rigid idea of what love is. Of what the witch thought love was. Of what the Authors decided Love meant for a silly frog. There are many types of love, but that love isn't enough, not for them. It must be True, and Pure, and Perfect. It must be Romantic, from a Princess, in The Frogs case. Otherwise, how would he learn?

But he never really learned anything. Not from his story. Only after its end did he learn to look at himself and what he was and how his actions had consequences. Only after he made friends and knew love; unconditional, platonic, layered and silly love, did he learn anything. His party doesn't care that he's a frog, they don't care that he's a coward or that he's scared or angry or lost. They scream his victories to the moon, they soothe his wounds, share his losses, support his growth, hold him accountable for his wrongs. They love him, well and truly, not despite being a frog, but because of who he is and the frog is part of him, so they love the frog too. And not in the hopes he will become a prince one day, no, they never expect to see him a handsome human man, they don't care about his appearance or potential status. They love the Frog, no matter how he is.

Upon reflecting, Elody also loves Gerard The Frog, not in spite of his froggy state, but because he brings her joy and is her friend. That is the unique part of their shared story, they do not meet already in love, they grow into it. They are friends first, unlikely companions, a Princess and her silly, gross frog. It is unfortunate, that once The Frog becomes the Prince, and the story is over, that he forgets that. He is so worried about being a frog again, because he assumes that his potential to be a Prince is the only reason Elody loved him at all, that he forgets that she loved him before hand. It isn't until his party and the adventures they take and the hardships they share that he realizes he was wrong. Elody never wanted a Prince, she wanted her Frog, and she got neither one.

His apologies and warnings to her were sincere, his love of her is genuine, just as the Authors wanted. He loves Elody more than anything, how could he not? She's a force to be reckoned with, even before the wars. The Frog is finally a Prince when he makes the sacrifice he should have made from the beginning. It doesn't matter if he's a frog, he loves Elody and, on some level, she loves him. And stars is he grateful for any kindness from her, for any amount of love or care from her, because he knows he doesn't deserve a scrap of it. It is a treasure, precious and adored, and he will honour it the best he can.

The Frog gives up his name, his humanity, every piece of him he thought made him worthy of a love he was promised upon his cursing. Because love is not that simple or easy, and that sort of love should not be hoped for. He frees Elody of the expectation, the requirement that she Love him, that she be made for him in some way.

The Frog loves the Princess, and so he gives the Princess her freedom. Not in the hopes she will choose him anyway, not so she may appreciate the change and call him her hero. No. The Frog wishes the Princess happiness, where ever it may come from. He loves her more than he fears being unloved or abandoned. If her happiness is her freedom, and he has the power to grant her what she should have always had, then he will. He does.

The Frog frees the Princess from his Curse, and it is his hope she will be happy.

#neverafter spoilers #neverafter gerard #d20 neverafter #dimension 20 #neverafter #d20 spoilers #brennan lee mulligan #gerard #princess elody #elody of greenleigh #neverafter elody #the frog prince #her own hero #cursed to be a true love #brian murphy #i'm not sorry

[noaltbruh]

hello! BIG congrats on 200 followers!! for the event i was wondering if i could request 💤,🍭, and 🍰 for johnny, gyro and josuke? thanks!

Ohhh alright! This'll be interesting! And thank you! :))

Link to main event.

💤How often do they fantasize about their S/O? Is the latter constantly on their mind?

Honestly, you must be something special if Johnny Joestar let you be a part of his life. You truly matter a lot to him in a world that has treated him like he was scum. So, you can guess this boy inevitably finds himself thinking about you on more than a few occasions.

Sometimes, he gets overwhelmed by negative thoughts, or is just not in a...Very happy headspace, which is when you come in! Just imagining you calls him down a little, and puts a small smile on his face, you're a very reassuring presence to him, you could say.

Johnny is also rather shy, so sometimes, he may find it easier to hide away in his thoughts and fantasize about you, instead of making them a reality. He doesn't want to appear clingy or too needy to always be by your side. he is.

~~~~~~

Gyro doesn't use his head much outside of combat lol. But those few brain cells he's still using are more inclined towards you than anything else. He's a quite proud guy, so he may find these thoughts overly cheesy, but he eventually learns to embrace them.

Imagine that he's just come up with a new joke, he won't be able to think about anything else but telling you about it. Or maybe he saw a teddy bear that "looked familiar" and he immediately bought it for you, so you could match!

I can see him also fantasizing about riding his horse with you, but that is the one idea he'll try to scrap and push away no matter what, no woman can ride Valkyrie...Although the perspective of it doesn't...Sound horrible.

~~~~~

Sweet sweeter sweetest boy, Josuke's thoughts about you are just as diabetes-inducing. He's not one who falls in love easily, but once he does, it's hard for him to think about anything that isn't you.

He won't pay attention in class because he's too busy imagining to be making fun of the teacher with you. He'll lose focus playing videogames since it's not same to play alone anymore. He might even just see a dress in a shop and give it to you for absolutely no reason aside from that fact that he thought it'd make you happy.

Also, stealing this idea from my friend, I have a feeling Josuke would often imagine what it'd be like to marry you. Just imagining you walk down the aisle while he's desperately try to hold back tears.

Yes, he has cried just thinking about it.

🍭 How easy is it to fluster them?

Now, Johnny used to get bitches, but not anymore, and he's kinda forgotten what it feels like to have someone show that type of interest in you. This means that getting him flustered will be a piece of cake.

Even if you're bad at flirting and mess up some words in an attempt at being smooth, he won't even notice and get embarrassed anyway. Compliment and show him that you appreciate his efforts, and it won't be long before his cheeks turn pink.

Also, friendly reminder that anything the stand feels is felt by the user as well. Hug or pat lil' Tusk act 1 with your own power, and Johnny will also get flustered by the indirect manifestation of affection.

~~~~~

Luck is not exactly on your side when it comes to get Gyro flustered. Dude has hooked up with lots and lots of women, and has learned a lot from each one of those experiences, simple flirting is not gonna work.

Take into account that most of your attempts will be nullified by him with ease. He'll tell you how cute he thinks it is that you're trying to embarrass him, before he teases you back, actually succeeding in doing so.

There is one obscure way to get him to turn red, and that is calling him by his actual name. He blushed even just saying it out loud. If you were to do so, and continued to after he told you to, you can be sure that it won't take long for him to try and hide his face with his hat.

~~~~~~

Josuke is quite the easy prey too, I won't lie. Perhaps not as much as Johnny, but it won't take too much to get him flustered. He really likes receiving compliments from you and remembers all of them, blushing a little just at the memory of it.

It is very likely that both of you will get rosy cheeks though, since this boy is ready to compliment or tease back in such a natural way he may not even realize what he'd doing. You both look cute though, and probably end up giggling together realizing what just happened.

It may be obvious, but I think saying something nice about his hair, especially if it's not his usual haircut, would really hit him right in the heart. A pat on his head, and he's already leaning on to your chest, not showing his face, trying to deny his embarrassment.

🍰 How teasing are they? Do they often flirt with their S/O?

Johnny couldn't flirt to save his life lol. Like O said, he just doesn't have a clue anymore about relationships, and despite how much he loves you, teasing you is not the best way he has to show it.

He does know that you'd probably like of he tried to, from time to time, so he might make an effort to think of something smooth to make you sway. When he realized he doesn't know what to do, he'll probably ask Gyro for help lmao.

Tries to play it cool when one of his pickup lines actually work, but he's definitely letting out a huge sigh of relief and hearing Angels' choirs. I can see him getting the hand of it with a lot of practise, but he's trying :D

~~~~~~

Yes! Definitely! Gyro just adores flirting and teasing you, he can't help himself, it just comes incredibly natural to him. Not that he minds though, he enjoys every second of it.

Rest assured that he won't be missing out on a single opportunity to make you blush. He's really good at it, since he's had his fair amount of experience with dating beforehand, and his confidence and smoothness are of great help.

Even if you're getting attacked, he'll still find some way to get you flustered.

Maybe he's just beaten the crap out of gunslinger while covered in blood, looking all menacing. If he catches you staring at him, he'll probably say something like "Mh? What is it? Like what you see?~" Followed by his iconic laughter and a wink.

~~~~~~

Okay, Josuke's situation is a mix of two main factors. He's someone who values romantic love and doesn't go around flirting with anyone he sees. Which means that if he were to tease or compliment you, you genuinely means what he's saying, and because of this, it comes very simple to him.

With that being said, this boy is also naturally good at flirting for some reason, he has a lot of abilities he keeps hidden, and if he's feeling goofy that day, or thinks it's a good time, he won't hesitate to bring out this...Talent of him.

He 100% likes to do so when the two of you are in public, especially since it knows that it's even more effective this way. If you were to tell him to stop, he'd chuckle before actually doing so. He respects his darling's wishes, after all ;)

#jojo #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba headcanons #jjba x reader #jjba x you #jjba x y/n #diu x reader #jojo x you #jojo x reader #jojo x y/n #joseph x reader #josuke x y/n #josuke higashikata x reader #josuke x reader #josuke higashitaka #johnny x reader #johnny joestar #jjba gyro #gyro x reader #gyro zeppeli #gyro zeppeli x reader #johnny joestar x reader #steel ball run x reader #part 7 x reader #jjba part 4 #jjba part 7 #jojo part 4 #jojo part four #jjba diamond is unbreakable #diamond is unbreakable x reader

[inklore]

after a year and a handful of months of debating on if i should, or wanted to, do commissions (and with some convincing and hyping from friends) i've decided why the heck not!

so to everyone whose ever complimented me and hyped me up for my themes and graphics thank you and you're definitely another driving force in this decision.

making graphics is therapeutic to me and i take a lot of pride and joy in doing it, from seeing everyone loving the things i create. and i want to share that pride and joy even more, sooo if you've ever struggled with making a good theme, feel too lazy to make one, need a banner for a fic or masterlist, a header, or just need someone to help your graphic vision come together; i'm here to provide!

before you commission something, or just want some examples, please check out my past work and portfolio!

PORTFOLIO | PINTEREST | ART TAG | GIFS

PLEASE THOROUGHLY READ THROUGH THE RULES!!!!

✶ all payments will be made through kofi or fiverr depending on what you're commissioning. if you'd rather go through paypal that is also a valid option just message me.

when it comes to commissioning anything details matter!!! i need complete details of what you want to be created. i will not accept something like 'floral vibe' or 'something with browns'. that gives me nothing. i need a vision, i need as much information as possible, examples (but do not take them from other creators please i will decline your commission), you can take inspo or examples from my own themes, or go through my pin board. the more details the better. the greater i can make your vision come into view. this is important!!!

i will not use other peoples art. do not ask for it to be included in whatever project i am creating. everything i make is for personal use only.

you will get two redos for me to change something you don't like about the theme. a preview of the finished product will be sent your way and you can ask for something to be completely re-done, but after that no changes will be made.

please include your user or where you want me to send your graphics within your request.

there's not a time span in which you have to use the theme or graphic for, but a week would be complimentary.

you can commission as many times as you wish after i've finished the first one.

for my own personal reasons minors are not allowed to commission things.

we do not have to be mutuals, nor do you have to be following me to commission something.

you don't have to outwardly give me credit but please do not claim my creations as your own.

if you have any questions before commissioning something my messages are always open and there is never a dumb question. please feel free to ask!

✶ fandoms i will not accept commissions for: anime, supernatural, our flags mean death, good omens (because i am not in them nor have enough knowledge on how to make the vision really suit said fandoms).

a full theme includes: a navigation banner and a header.

when commissioning a theme there are a few things that need to be mentioned and answered, so please include them in your request!

what kind of navi banner do you want? (refer to my portfolio for this, or if you just want something simplistic, big, small, medium, extra, messy, chaotic, etc)

what vibe are you going for? (dark academia, greek myth, ocean, dainty, horror, etc)

colors? (a must ok i need to know, if you give me none then i'm going to do whatever and choose what i think looks best and that's also fine if you want me to have complete creative liberties)

whats your overall vision? (can be included in the vibes section but giving me more detail is better)

text. (what do you want included on it, words, titles, information, quotes, etc)

examples. (like i mentioned in the rules examples are encouraged but do not take them from other creators on here and i will not copy, or make them look like someone else's work)

what kind of header do you want? (a simple png that goes along with the navi colors and vibe, a whole other banner-esk graphic, none, etc)

✶ see the add ons section below if you want more things included in your theme.

now these add ons are only for themes. if you commission a header only, or gif, they will have their own add on options.

$1 - for dividers that match your theme in color and vibe (if you want symbol, graphic, or anything that's not color then the price goes up a dollar)

$1 - three+ icon options (want the perfect icon to fit your theme and don't want to do the searching yourself? i got you)

$2 - content warning + minor dni banners (i'll make theme specifically to match your theme, with your user, and whatever you want them to say or look like etc)

$3 - layout + navi formatting (aka i'll come up with a completely new layout format for your navigation post + your bio)

$4 - a gif header or a gif included within the navi graphic (this is the highest price because finding clips, extracting scenes into caps, making the gif, coloring it to match the theme, blending, etc, is a lot lol)

a header commission includes: only a header. it is not a theme, just a mobile header, or a header for a masterlist, or fic.

the information needed for this commission are as listed below.

what kind of header do you want? (aka what is it for. this is important because the look is dependent on this information)

colors, vibes, vision. (more detail the better)

text. (if you want text on it, what do you want it to say, so title, etc)

examples. (not needed but a plus)

gif commissions include: gifs for your fics or masterlists. not for themes or headers.

depending on how you want these little moving pictures to look you gotta give some details.

fandom, character, scenes. (don't just say 'any scene' unless you truly want me to choose whatever scene lmao)

how many? (the current cut off is six, if you want more then there's an add on)

coloring. (you can completely leave this up to me but if you want them to be a certain color then please let me know, i'll also check with you before making all of them to make sure you like the coloring)

text. (want them to say anything? a title? subtitles? dialogue from your fic? your username on them? etc)

add on: blends. (want two characters or actors from different angles, scenes, or fandoms in the same gif? i got you)

add on: textures. (if you want added details such as a texture on the gifs then this will be extra, but i need to know what kind of texture / details you want added)

fic commissions: are only done through fiverr or paypal. if you are interested in commissioning a fic or any kind of writing then please refer to my fiverr and inquire over there or message me on here. thank you!!

✶REMEMBER TO MESSAGE ME WITH ANY QUESTIONS YOU HAVE BEFORE COMMISSIONING, NO MATTER THE TIME OR SUBJECT, I ENCOURAGE IT!

contact info: on tumblr, or discord: toldbylaur.

where to commission: kofi or pm me!

#commissions #theme commissions #graphic commissions #gif commissions #fic commissions

[luna0713hunter]

Tell me a lie

Part 1

Modern au!Choso x reader,breakup,angst,hurt/comfort,happy ending i promise

The day you break up with Choso, ironically,is the anniversary of the day you two met.

Breaking up with Choso,was easy;you two weren't real couples to begin with. The whole thing only started out as a joke;since the two of you kept getting hit on in College almost every day,you thought it'll be a funny idea to play pretend with your best friend.

"what if we pretend to date?i bet that'll help us out."

It was a joke. A stupid, thoughtless joke.

A joke,that got real too fast.

"what if we did?"

So you did. At that time,it seemed like the best idea; after all,you and Choso never had any romantic feelings toward one another,so it wouldn't hurt right?

But breaking up did hurt. No matter what.

Falling in love with Choso was easy. Of course it was;he was the kindest guy you've ever knew. He was your best friend since the first semester in college,and the only guy you could rely on.

Falling in love with Choso was easy, because you've always loved him deep in your heart.

The sky was blue,night was dark,and you loved Choso Kamo.

Simple as that.

But as you watch Choso stare down at his hands across yours on the small table tucked in the corner of a cozy cafe,you cant help but to wonder how easy it would be to reach out and wrap your fingers around his.

But no. You wont do that; because that wasnt the deal. You both had agreed that after college ends,so does your fake relationship. And thats why you're here;to end whatever was going on between the two of you.

"so...thats it." You clear your throat,trying to muster enough courage for an awkward smile, "the last day of college. "

Choso doesnt say a word.

"what,uh,what would you do now?"

Your eyes remain on the way his long, elegant fingers tap against the coffee mug he's holding.

Tap,tap,tap

"I'll look for job. Take care of Yuji."

"oh yeah!you mentioned he's gonna live with you from now on,must be exciting!"

And finally,Choso looks up. And how you wished he'd continue to look at you forever.

"if we're done here,i should go pick up Yuji from his daycare."

And you just nod, dumbfounded as he grabs his coat and pays for both of your drinks. You dont say a word,not until he's almost out of the door,before glancing back at you with the smallest,most forced smile you've ever seen from him.

"it was nice being with you,y/n. Take care."

"you too Choso..."

I Love you

You dont say. Instead,you just sit there,staring out of the cafe window as the first snowflakes of winter start to fall.

And if you've shed a tear or two,no one would know.

+++

"yes!yes thank you so much!!! I'll head straight there!!!"

As you rush to the nearest bus stop,you check the address your friend has sent you. If you took the bus right now,you would be there in no time!

Why the rush?

Lets just say,job hunting was going nowhere. So as soon as your friend from college mentioned she knew someone who needed a sitter for their sibling,you jumped at the opportunity.

As you get off the bus,you double check the location your friend has sent you and smile;the house is nothing big,just a regular household you see on streets. The front yard has few flowers and plants,and when you ring the doorbell,your heart beats loudly against your ribcage.

The door swings open,and when you dont see anyone in front of you, you raise your brow until you hear a tiny,excited voice calling for you.

"Hi y/n!!"

Your eyes draws downward,and you let out a small squeak;the small boy standing in front of you is nothing but adorable. His spikey pinkish hair is messy,and his big brown eyes are so innocent. There are scratches and small bruises on his cheeks,arms and knees,and the huge, blinding smile he's giving you makes anyone's heart melt.

But that's not the reason you're almost having a heart attack no.

The reason is-

"Yuji!i told you not to open the door without me!!"

Yuji,the small boy turns around and smiles sheepishly.

"Sorry,Choso-nii!"

You swallow,and as you're wondering if its too late to turn around and run,the man himself,Choso freaking Kamo opens the door wider and upon seeing you,grows quiet.

There's an awkward moment where neither of you say anything.

"...y/n. Why are you here..?"

You cough,and hold up your phone for him to see.

"Remember Yuki,from college?she told me her friend needed a sitter for his younger sibling...so.."

"You're my new sitter,y/n?!"

The small squeal has you melting and you knee in front of Yuji and ruffle his hair.

"hey Yuji,i see you still remember me."

The boy gives you a toothy grin, showing you he's missing a few,and nods.

"Big bro always talks about you-"

"Yuji," Choso's calm voice snaps both of your heads his way, "why dont you go watch tv while we speak?"

Yuji,the ever polite kid he is,rushes inside. Leaving you alone with your kinda-friend who you haven't seen in six months.

Not since your break-up.

When Choso clears his throat,you nervously glance up at him and hate the way your heart throbs,even after six months.

You still love him.

"so," he awkwardly steps aside, "want a cup of tea?"

#jujutsu kaisen #choso x you #jjk choso #choso x reader #choso kamo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader