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#or maybe they just project the fact they are miserable

kimchunsgha · 2 months

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some people are just in kpop spaces (like twt especially but here too sometimes) to hate on something even on the groups they supposedly “like” which is wild to me! i’m not talking about criticism, which is necessary every now and then, i’m talking about people that go on social media to tweet or post something negative about their fav or another group every single day because they are miserable and i’m sincerely asking… if you hate being a kpop stan so much wtf are you doing here then?? if you hate everything so much just leave and find other people to stan that are not kpop

#when i say i barely see people appreciate their faves nowadays #i sincerely mean that #social media has rotted people’s brains to the point #they can’t enjoy anything #or maybe they just project the fact they are miserable #into these idols and sometimes people in these kpop spaces #which is like???#some people have to understand if they #aren’t feeling good abt something they have to leave #and not stay and make everyone miserable too 😭#idk i feel like i am saying things but especially in these past few years #i notice how there was this insane shift #nobody is nice anymore or respectful #or even like what they are supposed to like #and sometimes it’s all for show bc they think being a piece of garbage #is good like????#anyways yeah #tris.txt

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mostly-imagines · 26 days

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Banished

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason misses his girlfriend

warnings: extremely mild angst, he’s just mopey (he’s fine)

Jason sits slumped over the kitchen island, head lying in his crossed arms. His now soggy cereal disregarded after barely a few bites.

Dick’s been rummaging through the cabinets for the better part of twenty minutes and Tim sits atop of the nook table shoving donuts in his mouth for the better part of thirty.

Damian trudges past them to the nook bench, taking out a knife and beginning to whittle away at a block of wood.

He glances at Jason with a scowl. “If you’re going to be so miserable, can’t you do it in your own home?”

Jason just grunts.

He wishes. You and Bruce had conspired to trap him at the mansion for the week so he could heal from injuries sustained during the last mission without risk of him suiting up and sneaking away from you in the middle of the night.

It’s not even the fact that he’s basically being babysat that’s got him so disgruntled. He wouldn’t mind it at all if you were here too. But you were dead set that the manor was too far out of your way for work, so you’d stay behind. A lose-lose for Jason.

“He’s just mad his girlfriend kicked him out.” Dick teases, swiping through the fridge.

Tim snorts from the doorway, “Me too. He’s a lot more depressing on his own.”

Jason kept his head down as he blindly reached for the spoon in his cereal and chucked it at Tim’s head.

Tim catches it without thought, continuing, “A lot more irritable, at least. Why isn’t she here?”

“She’s gotta work.” Dick says, scanning through the pantry.

Damian peeps his head up from his project. “But Todd has a rather large supply of less than legally obtained money, does he not?”

“Yeah, but she said she wants to pay her own rent, I think.” Dicks hums, finally giving up on his quest for a snack.

Damian pauses.

“So she wants to live in a tiny apartment?” He asks, a mixture of confused and horrified.

“Watch your mouth.” Jason mumbles.

“It was a genuine question!” Damian protests, face screwed up.

Jason finally lifts his head up, turning to his little brother with a raised brows. “And I’m genuinely going to break your nose.”

It’s an empty threat, maybe. But it was enough to shut Damian up anyways. Jason turns back to his cereal and swishes the bowl around.

Dick rests his arms on the counter across from Jason and speaks lowly. “You know, it is just a few days. She’s coming back.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Jason was never one for showing his feelings—let alone talking about them.

He misses you, plain and simple. Dick could see that much clearly, though the longing looked unfamiliar on Jason.

Bruce lingers in the hallway, just past the island, listening.

He’ll admit (to himself) that he’s worried about Jason. It’s been three days and Jason has yet to show a crack in this demeanor. And while it’s not uncommon for him to stow himself away, there is something quite wrong with the way he hasn’t countered his brother’s jabs at him or teased them.

And while he could do without the blatant threats, he’s proud to hear his son defending his girlfriend, even over trivial things. It’s one of the few moments where he feels like he did right by him as a father.

And now here’s his son, caring about someone else more than he cares about himself. Someone who’s a good person, no less. It had been your idea to trick Jason into staying at the manor, you were scared that he would push his body past its limit when you couldn’t do anything to help.

Bruce knew you didn’t feel great about basically banishing him for the week but he could see that you just wanted what was best for Jason. He could see it so clearly. Maybe Bruce could never have been a perfect father, could never have given his son everything he needed despite having more money than he could ever use. Maybe he couldn’t help him, even now.

But you could.

Bruce peers around the corner, leaning up against the doorframe.

He watches Damian give up on carving at his block and start into the leg of the table.

He watches the bickering that broke out after Tim grab the last glazed donut, which was apparently the only thing Dick could possibly fathom eating.

And he watches Jason.

As Jason’s phone lights up on the counter next to him. He glances down at it with a frown before his face absolutely lights up.

He scrambles to pick the phone up and starts typing away. A quiet action that catches the attention of all of his brothers.

He types and types, waits for ten seconds for a response and types and types again—smile on his face.

The Waynes didn’t need to be the greatest detectives in the world to know who he was texting.

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barbiewritesstuff · 13 days

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I can't stop thinking of knitting Astarion a blanket.

Maybe it's because I'm elbow deep into crocheting baby clothes but who knows

Like, imagine knitting or crocheting Astarion a blanket. Because everyone else managed to bring something along for the journey when the mindflayers kidnapped you, you had a backpack and some coin, same for Laz'el, and Shadowheart and Gale and probably everyone else, but not Astareon.

He has nothing, not a coin to his name. Just a dagger, a bow, and a few arrows. He steals what he needs to make his tent but he's all too aware that none of it is really his.

And then he sees you working on your project by the fire, sipping on a mug of steaming tea or coffee. He sees you wandering around villages and random groups of people, bartering your way to some yarn.

Of course he's curious. But he'd never ask, because, obviously, it would never be any of his business. It could never be for him. And then, after working on it at any moment you could, you come to him one night with the blanket neatly folded in your hands.

"I don't know if you get cold," you say, "But I thought you might want a blanket if you do."

You're so awkward, you know Astarion likes the finer things in life. He likes luxury, and this is hardly luxury. It's a dark blue, but only because you died it. The yarn you bartered never came in the same colour and sometimes it wasn't even the same thickness. You tried to match it as best you could, but it wasn't perfect.

Astarion notices it and for the first time in his very long, miserable life. He doesn't give a shit. Because it's his. Completely, 100%, his own thing. Cazador has never touched this, he has never seen this, he will never lay a finger on his blanket. And the fact that it's his is only overshadowed by the fact that you made it for him. Not because he likes you, he's not even realised that yet, or not properly anyway, but because you looked at him, fangs, sarcasm, blood thirst and all, and decided you were going to take a tenday and make a blanket to gift to him. You decided he was worthy of yarn, time and effort. All so he could be a little warmer at night.

That blanket might not be worth much, if anything, but when you're as used as Asterion is to being worth less than shite, it's like happening upon a vault of precious diamonds.

He doesn't say thank you, he just grabs it from you and tries to act nonchalant. Because if he opens his mouth, he might actually just start crying.

#bg3 #original fic #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion imagine

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hufflegruff · 10 months

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girl the way i RAN when i saw you asking for requests as a break from a knowing look!!! if youre down to maybe do something like hurt comfort vibes? with sebastian x MC? like mayhaps they’re fighting and MC gets hurt and protective Sebastian comes out? literally in love with everything you’ve written!!! you’re amazing! <3

I was meant to write a drabble but somehow this became a NOVEL?! Good lord. I really wanted to do it justice!!! I hope you guys still enjoy it!!!

It takes a disaster

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader Word Count: 5k Contains: Fluff, angst, making out!!! Requested: The lovely @ithinkweallsing and @musicbecky had similar requests about protective Seb x hurt MC so I combined both :)

Summary:

“And why didn’t you think to tell me that you were struck by a bloody unforgivable curse before you fell lifelessly onto the fucking floor!” He yelled. She winced at the loudness of his voice. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch the love of your life almost die in your fucking arms?” His deafening voice echoed through the chambers of the hospital wing. She stared at him, mouth agape. Sorry, was she dreaming? What was that he just said?

It takes a disaster

When she first resigned to the pitiful fact that she was very likely in love with Sebastian Sallow, she accepted her fate. Doomed to suffer in an unrequited love she held for her best friend.

Merlin, it was such a cliché.

Honestly, she would have laughed at herself if it didn’t also feel so pathetically miserable.

Somewhere along the way, amid catacombs and restricted sections and ancient relics, she found herself becoming dissatisfied with just friendship. And before she could even catch herself, she had already fallen. Buried ten feet underground by the weight of her own despicable, cavernous feelings.

Because they’d been best friends for long enough for her to know that Sebastian Sallow flirted like his livelihood depended on it. If courting witches was a sport, he’d be a professional. It came to him as naturally as breathing.

That was why Cressida Blume battered her eyelashes so feverishly everytime he was near. And why Samantha Dale had been so Goddamn adamant on being her potions partner, so she could siphon hints on how best to charm the Slytherin for herself.

And why she would never entertain the idea that any of Sebastian’s pretty words could be anything more than lip service.

So she went out of her way to find reasons to keep herself busy. Taking jobs and doing favours for townsfolk in the vicinity, so that she wouldn’t have to sit with her own feelings. Or Sebastian himself. Hoping that by the time it came for them to leave Hogwarts, that she would find peace and leave her feelings for him in the deepest depths of the castle.

The distance would help. It just had to.

Unfortunately for her, when she had said that she was heading to the poacher camp up in the Poidsear coast by her lonesome, Sebastian insisted that he absolutely had to come along.

“Don’t be daft. Of course I have to come with you. Who else is going to swoop in when your sorry arse needs saving?” He teased.

She was almost offended, “I don’t need a babysitter, Sebastian.”

“Not a babysitter,” he clarified, “A knight in shining armor,” with a dashingly flirtatious smile.

She felt her heart flutter, and cursed his annoyingly perfect fluffy hair for it. What business did it have looking so attractive? Honestly, the cheek of these Slytherin boys to say such rousing things.

Ominis, Sebastian and herself had been lazing in the grass in front of the main school grounds. But with a deft wave of his hand Seastian beckoned over his broom, and it zipped obediently over.

“Come on. Let’s go.” Sebastian said easily.

“What? Right now?” She replied in disbelief.

“Well, I don’t see anything better to do. Do you?”

From beside him, Ominis piped up annoyed, “Um, excuse me. Did we not agree that we needed to finish our group project today so as to not suffer the wrath of Sharp’s horrid temper?”

Silently, she thanked Ominis for the diversion and prayed Sebastian would take it.

“Like I said. Nothing better to do.” Sebastian reiterated shamelessly.

Ominis rolled his eyes, “Absolute moron you are. Whatever. Take him off my hands for all I care.”

Well that didn’t go at all the way she hoped.

“But I’ve… not even stocked up on my potions.” She said weakly.

Sebastian wasn’t having it.

“Come on, it’s just a routine poacher clear out! I’ve got a couple of Wiggenwelds on me. You know it’s going to be a cakewalk for the both of us.”

She could never say no to him. Not when he looked at her like that. She imagined that most girls couldn’t either. An ugly, decrepit feeling bubbled up in the pit of her stomach. But she willed herself to push the unhelpful thought down and out of sight.

“Fine.” She caved with a haughty flip of her hair, “But try to keep up. I don’t want to have to take care of you out there.”

In a ridiculously exaggerated display of chivalry, he offered her his hand and led her onto the broom with a coy smile.

“Ladies first.”

This boy was going to be the death of her. The ride to Poidsear would all but confirm that.

Sebastian had insisted that she sit in front of him to steer — and for the life of her, she couldn’t understand how she had willingly agreed to put herself in this position. His breath was right in the crook of her neck, and his warm hands were wrapped all too tightly around her waist. Did he really think that she could steer like this? She was appalled at how totally inconsiderate he was by being so oblivious to her feelings.

She could hardly hear her own thoughts — not even the intrusive ones — let alone focus on the fly.

Was he doing this on purpose? Because it was annoying.

The singularly, most vexing thing he could do in fact. She had a mission to concentrate on. She didn’t need to be sidetracked. She hadn’t even wanted him and his distracting face to come along in the first place.

“Merlin. Hold me any tighter and I might burst, Sebastian.” She tried her best to make it sound casual. With the light cadence of a joke, and not the high stakes affair it felt like.

“Well, I can’t risk having you falling to an untimely death under my watch. I’d never hear the end of it from Ominis. Or Samantha. For killing her potions partner at such a crucial time in the academic year,” He joked.

His tone was teasing, but she hated that his words sounded so… carefree. Completely unbothered. It bruised her heart more than she liked to admit, but it hurt her to know that he probably thought that this was the same as being in close proximity to Anne.

And why the bloody hell did he have to mention Samantha Dale at a time like this? Unprompted and all. Teenage boys really had no tact. If that had been a glimpse into Sebastian’s mind, she didn’t want to see it. Lock it up and throw away the keys and unleash it into the depths of the black sea to never be found.

If she just ignored it, and never faced it head on, maybe her heart would break a little bit softer.

“Right.” She replied curtly, willing the dejection she felt to go away.

“What? Did I say something wrong?”

“No.”

He paused in contemplation, before declaring, “You’re upset.”

He had said it so matter of factly she almost couldn’t disagree with him. Almost. She cursed herself for not being able to hide the bitterness in her voice better. She cursed him for noticing this of all things.

“Don’t be silly. I’m not.” She retorted harshly.

When the words left her mouth, she quickly regretted them. She felt guilty for how unnecessarily rude it sounded. But she couldn’t talk about this. There was objectively no good way to explain why she seemed so irrationally bothered without emotionally vomiting her feelings onto him.

But before she could apologise, he chose to let it go.

And she didn’t know if she felt relieved or even more devastated.

The rest of their journey to Poidsear was endured in silence. When they finally arrived, they landed just at the precipice of the poacher camp. It was time to get serious, she mentally chided herself. There was simply no time to torment herself with such frivolous nonsense.

They kept out of sight behind a mountain of crates next to a tent. Making sure to stay hidden, she briskly surveyed the scene. She could see from the corner of her eye, a family of hippogriffs chained in cages by the Eastern front. But getting to them would be no easy feat; the area was littered with Ashwinders at every corner.

“God. There’s more of them than I thought.” She whispered to herself.

“Worried? How very unlike you.” Sebastian raised a brow in response.

“Not at all. It’s just you would think that these degenerates would have more productive things to do with themselves than taking magical creatures as prisoners.” She whispered with a scoff.

She had not even one ounce of respect for the Ashwinders, especially those of the poaching variety. Those who made a nefarious career out of hunting innocent, majestic creatures for blood sport were the worst of them.

To her surprise, when she turned to look at Sebastian, he was looking straight at her with an enigmatic smile.

And then suddenly, she felt self-conscious.

“What?” She whispered nervously.

Sebastian murmured warmly, “This is a little nostalgic is it not?”

“How so?”

“You. Me. The exhilarating thrill of getting caught at any moment. Feels like fifth year doesn’t it?” His voice was lower than usual, quieter, with a hint of something dastardly alluring.

It made her heart skip an alarming amount of beats and her skin shiver at the sound of it. She felt an outrageously girlish impulse to snog him and hex him and run far, far away from him all at once. What she would give for him to have a taste of his own medicine. Even if he wasn’t in love with her, maybe she still could grab him by the collar and kiss him silly until his lips were bruised.

Maybe that would finally fluster him.

Because by God, he deserved to be put in his place for all the bloody grief he unknowingly gave her.

He was looking at her so affectionately, and that was just so uncalled for. Honestly, she didn’t know how he managed to flirt so skilfully even in the face of imminent danger. In the near vicinity of bloodthirsty dark wizards. If she wasn’t so conflicted by it all she would be impressed. She imagined that Sebastian Sallow could probably flirt with Death himself and get away with it.

Perhaps that would be a rather useful quality in an Auror. Perhaps, when they were back in the safety of the castle, she would suggest it as a fitting career path for him—

“Look what we have here. A little far from Hogwarts aren’t we?”

She felt her blood freeze over at the sound of the new voice. Sebastian stiffened. A sinister chill ran up her spine.

When she turned, she was greeted by the menacing smile of an Ashwinder, cloaked in shadows. And almost as if the Hermes had struck her himself, the girl wonder retaliated at reckless speeds and pointed her wand with venomous hostility at the dark wizard in front of them.

Fuck. She cursed internally. Her guard had been irresponsibly down. She hadn’t even heard him approach them.

Sebastian probably sensed her panic, and squeezed her hand twice.

Once to comfort her, the second to ask her to follow his lead.

Raising his hands up in mock surrender, Sebastian said sardonically with a wry smile “Sir, we were just passing by the area. We didn’t know that this was private property. Terribly sorry for the intrusion. If you allow us, we’ll be on our way now.”

The Ashwinder scoffed, “Save it kid, I know exactly who you two meddlesome brats are.”

“Oh well that’s unfortunate.” Sebastian said patronisingly.

Her grip on her wand tightened. She wasn’t entirely sure where he was going with this, but she knew that she had to be ready.

“Why’s that?” The Ashwinder asked with a laugh.

“Because that means I have to do this.”

And suddenly, with a swift motion, Sebastian lunged forward with his wand. And almost as if by blind, brazen instinct, her own hands followed suit.

“Confringo!”

“Expelliarmus!”

“Protego!”

Red, green, and blue. The colours of their spells cackled at lightning speeds against the howling wind.

But soon enough their commotion caused a ruckus, and it became an army against two measly bodies.

“Shit!” Sebastian cursed under his breath.

And frankly, she had to give it to them to their credit, these Ashwinders proved to be pretty formidable adversaries. They moved faster than the others did. And their spells missed her more narrowly than they normally did. But still, actually hitting her was the aim. Close enough wasn’t good enough, and she was determined to make sure that they would never achieve it.

She’d make sure of it — they didn’t call her the girl wonder for nothing.

Spells collided and echoed around her, the acrid scent of fire filling her nostrils. If peril were a smell, this is what she imagined that it would smell like.

And in the midst of the chaos, without a surge of power erupted from one of the Ashwinders. Like a strike straight out of God’s hand — with a single, severe flash of light — a calamitous spell was unleashed, enveloping the camp grounds in a sheathe of blinding white.

And when the light became less blinding, she found herself separated from Sebastian.

Panic welled up within her as she searched the battlefield, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Sebastian!" She called out.

Where was Sebastian?

Fuck. That wasn’t good. She needed to find Sebastian.

Like insidious tendril vines, fear crept into her veins. Yet she willed the anxiousness in her brain to focus; willed it to calm down. Sebastian was a capable wizard. He could handle a few pesky Ashwinders.

Just as capable as she was.

Because with a flick of her wrist, shields shattered and hexes were deflected. With every spell she cast, the wind sang as her curses hit bodies, like a force of nature answering her call. One by one Ashwinders fell under the weight of her unyielding assault.

But then a piercing hex sliced right through her defences.

Her protego shattered, and she was thrown backward into a mess of limbs onto the ground.

“Crucio!”

The sound of the spell sent chills down her spine. It brought her back to the scriptorium. It brought her back to a shadow of Sebastian that she had been trying to forget.

But before she could run, scream, dive or react — it reached her.

And just as torturously as it had the very first time she endured it, pain erupted through her body as she was thrown backward, limbs contorting as she crumbled in agony onto gritty soil. Back then, it had felt as if lightning had struck every single nerve ending in her body. This time it felt like she was burning under a flame that was twice as brutal.

The pain was relentless. Her mind screamed for respite, for any brief release from this torture. She clawed at the ground, gripping her nails deep into the dirt, as if seeking solace in the earth itself. But there was no escape. No reprieve.

Through the haze of pain, she caught glimpses of the Ashwinder that had casted the curse. Even through her blurry vision, she could see that they were gloating. Content at how they had reduced her to nothing more than a writhing, broken vessel.

And God, that pissed her off immensely.

If they could sense the literal thunder in her veins, she wondered if they would be so cavalier?

She didn’t think so.

Through gritted teeth; through sheer determination, she struggled onto her feet with her body shaking in defiance. Summoned the last remnants of her ancient magic, her wand trembling in her shaky hand. A surge of energy flowed through her veins. The air above the tips of her fingers crackled with raw power as she channeled her magic, focusing it into a singularly devastating spell.

And when it hit the Ashwinder, it eviscerated them in waves.

In between all the fighting and screaming and surviving, she didn’t remember much of the details.

But all of a sudden, it was silent.

And all of the sudden, it was just her standing alone in plumes of dust.

When the air finally settled down, she felt herself start to cave. The adrenaline had done its job and was quickly leaking out of her blood stream. As if she had exerted and drained every last ounce of her spirit and was on the verge of collapse.

Was it just her, or were the skies starting to fade?

The pain in her chest was still excruciating. This cruciatus curse felt different from the one that Sebastian had casted on her before.

This one was lingering.

Like it was clawing onto her heart and gripping onto it in a chokehold with a resentful vengeance. Despite having just won, she didn’t have a spare moment to feel relieved. The pain was quickly growing and air couldn’t seem to reach her lungs fast enough.

But Sebastian… Where was Sebastian? The panic began to rumble within her. She had foolishly let her own guard down, and let him out of her sight. She mustered what little energy she had left and moved her head frantically in search of him.

How could she ever forgive herself if she let him die?

But when she saw a figure barreling head first towards her, even through blurry eyes and the crackle in the depths of her tired limbs, she knew that it was him. And like an oasis in the blistering desert, the comfort she felt from seeing his face was a brief solace to the pain.

If this was where she was destined to meet her end, she hazily deliberated, at least she could draw her last breath in peace knowing that he was safe.

(Not to be dramatic or anything.)

When Sebastian finally caught up to her, he laughed and bursted out breathily, “Merlin… Whatever you and your ancient magic did back there was insane.”

He was safe, and that was all that mattered. She didn’t have the energy anymore. Not for a conversation, let alone banter. She needed to preserve her last scraps of her battered stamina to make it back to the castle and patch herself up in solitude.

And one thing was for certain: Sebastian could not know.

“I think we managed pretty well.” He said with a tired smile.

“Yeah,” she replied breathily, “W-we did good.”

She sounded a mess. She hoped that he wouldn’t notice.

To her dismay, the look on his face immediately switched into that of deep concern.

He interrogated hurriedly, “What wrong? You sound a little off. Are you hurt?”

Everything was wrong. The discomfort that gripped her chest was getting worse with every passing second. Standing was starting to become too taxing of an undertaking for her.

But needless to say, she didn’t want another thing to worry about, and Sebastian would always make an unnecessarily big fuss anytime she was hurt. Even if it was just a minuscule scratch. He was always too distraught; too tender. It was one of the things she adored most about him.

And she absolutely loathed him for it.

So her stubbornness was persuaded that suffering in silence was the easier of two fates.

Indignantly, she retorted, “How rude. I’ll have you k-know I’m perfectly f-fine.”

Her words were starting to slur, not that she noticed. But Sebastian clearly had. Assertively, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her towards him.

“You’re not fine.” He declared demandingly.

As he frantically searched her eyes, arms, back, legs for signs of what was wrong, she found herself nuzzled in the nook of his chest. She felt her willpower wither slightly in his flustered hands.

In the shallow breaths that she took, she could smell him. The musk of pinewood and sputtering fireplaces and late nights drifting in the restricted section. An aromatic cocktail that was overwhelmingly intoxicating.

Now she was getting angry. And drowsy. And dizzy. Why couldn’t Sebastian tell that he was being so selfish by being so considerate? He needed to stop touching her so carelessly. She was lightheaded enough as it is, she didn’t need his excessive gentleness to add fuel to the flames of her absurd delusions.

But maybe if she just closed her eyes and rested for this brief moment. Sebastian would take the hint and just leave her be. Maybe all she needed was a quick lie down and he would see that she was perfectly fine.

“Oh fuck, there’s so much blood— hey, hey!”

She could see Sebastian calling out her name, but she couldn't hear it. And soon enough she realised, she wasn’t fighting it anymore. And soon enough, Sebastian was no longer in sight. Soon enough, she found herself alone in a quiet, soothing darkness.

Something was twisting at her to give into slumber. Into solitude. Into emptiness. She vaguely remembered from one of Sharp’s more riveting lectures that when poisoned - one should always fight the urge.

But she could still feel the warmth of Sebastian’s hands on the small of her back, and the comfort of it lulled her to relinquish control. After a few ambivalent moments, drifting in and out of awareness, she surrendered to sleep.

When she woke, she was greeted by a horrendously pounding headache. She had no sense of place, but a low groaning ache in her bones. Her eyes struggled to open, but she could feel the warm sun on the tip of her nose, and the tips of her cheeks. The softness of the sun quelled a little bit of the soreness in her body.

She deduced that wherever she was, it was warm and safe. Despite the ache in her bones, there was also a weightlessness to her body. Therefore, she somehow rationalised with herself that this was very likely heaven.

Or any other religious equivalent afterlife.

She wasn’t picky. Any one would do, really.

When her bleary eyes finally pulled themselves open, the fragmented parts of her vision pieced together a faint picture. Of pristine white linen and crisply casted grey brick. A peculiar blend of sickly artificial peonies and concentrated chemicals flooded her nostrils.

Which was odd. Because she hadn’t imagined that the afterlife would feel quite so sterile.

“Fucking hell,” spoke a voice she could never not recognise, and she was shocked.

Did heaven include conjuring up a phantom Sebastian from the figment of her deepest imaginations to keep her company for the rest of eternity?

“Sebastian?”

“You’re awake.” His voice was hoarse.

When her eyes finally focused, she saw him properly. It was definitely Sebastian Sallow, the boy that had her heart leaping acres across the Hebridean seas. But in all her years of knowing and pining for him, she’d never seen him look so terrible. His hair was disheveled as if it had endured a torrid storm. His eyes were heavy and solemn, as if they had tolerated an eternity of grief.

This seemed all too real. Too visceral.

Maybe this wasn’t heaven.

“Am I dead?” She thought to confirm.

He laughed a humourless laugh.

“No. You’re in the hospital wing.”

So this was real. She was in pain because her body had been bruised like a peach.

When she finally looked around, she found herself neatly tucked into the covers of an infirmary bed. She couldn’t recall how she got here, and only remembered a few little scraps of the event that led up to Poidsear. But if she had to be certain of anything, Sebastian must’ve brought her back to the castle.

“I guess that makes sense,” She said with as much mirth as she could muster, “Heaven couldn’t be this quaint.”

Clearly Sebastian hadn’t found it funny at all, which is why she was met with silence.

As she cleared her throat, she asked, “What happened?”

For some reason, Sebastian was doing everything in his power to avoid her eye.

“An Ashwinder hit you with a modified version of the cruciatus curse. She tampered the spell and combined it with a blood poisoning hex. You… could’ve died.” He said through gritted teeth. It seemed as if he struggled to even get the words out.

In an attempt to diffuse the graveness of his tone, she made a joke.

“Unlucky. Maybe next time they try to kill me they’ll actually get it right.”

But once again, Sebastian didn’t laugh. If anything, he only got more aggrieved. She felt his grip on the edge of her bed frame tighten so fiercely, she could see his veins pop and his knuckles turn red. He was being so serious — and she was not at all used to serious Sebastian. She had only seen this side of him once or twice, and only ever because of Anne.

“Are you … upset?” She asked cautiously.

“I’m fucking furious.” He said.

She was gobsmacked.

“Why?”

Finally, he looked at her straight on and her stomach flipped at the sight of it. He looked absolutely distraught. Like the splintered shell of a boy who had been cracked open and drained dry of his will to live. Behind the hard look in his eyes, radiated something cloudy, tempestuous and devastating.

“It was my fault that we were even there.” He said

She hadn’t known that a voice could carry such grief and anger simultaneously. But Sebastian’s voice was laced with insurmountable despair. And it broke her heart irrevocably to think that she could’ve caused him so much pain.

Did he think that he was to blame?

That was ridiculous.

“I thought-” he started to say again, but his voice cracked.

I thought I lost you? I thought I’d left you for dead? She wondered if that was what he was going to say.

“Sebastian…” She finally began “It’s not-”

“And why didn’t you think to tell me that you were struck by a bloody unforgivable curse before you fell lifelessly onto the fucking floor!” He yelled.

She winced at the loudness of his voice.

“I didn’t think-”

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch the love of your life almost die in your fucking arms?”

His deafening voice echoed through the chambers of the hospital wing.

She stared at him, mouth agape.

Sebastian himself looked shocked by the words out of his own mouth.

Sorry, what was that he just said?

Was she dreaming? Was she hallucinating? Had Sebastian Sallow really said that he loved her? Her? Complicated, chaotic, haphazard her? Even if her brain couldn’t quite process what she was saying, her heart had certainly understood. It was battering against her ribcage so firmly that she swore it would no sooner burst out of her chest.

“You… love me?” Even as the words sat in her mouth, even as she tasted it meticulously on the edge of her tongue — she still couldn’t believe them.

With his head buried in his hands, Sebastian groaned.

Obviously that wasn’t what he had wanted to say, and that terrified the living shit out of her. He looked as if he considered going back on it. Saying that it had just been an emotional slip of the tongue.

But to her surprise, he stood firm.

“Fuck.” He cursed, “Isn’t it fucking obvious?”

His words still weren’t fully sinking in. Her brain was running so fast that it was on the verge of failing her entirely. There were so many things she wanted to ask him. Was it obvious? To who exactly? By what egregious definition? And did he expect her to just take his word and say that this little detail was always hidden in plain sight for her to find?

Then there were other more intrusive thoughts she couldn’t shake. Like what about all the girls that fawned over his every word. What about all the other girls that were softer, prettier, more endearing than her? She just hoped that whatever she chose to say, that she wouldn’t let out the intrusive ones first.

“...What about Samantha?” She blurted practically incoherently.

Oh Merlin. Why did she say that? Why was that the first thing she said to him after she had just been on the verge of death? After he had just confessed his love for her.

Never had she felt so exasperated with herself for being so dumb.

Unsurprisingly, Sebastian looked at her as if she’d just grown three heads. She also considered that maybe she had enunciated so poorly that he hadn’t understood a single thing she said. Either way, just as she was about to laugh it away - change the subject - he responded.

“... What about Samantha?”

Suddenly, she felt too shy to ask. But she knew she had to follow through.

“... You’re not in love with Samantha?” She asked meekly.

Sebastian stared at her in absolute disbelief.

“Are you crazy?” he began incredulously, “You think I fancy Samantha Dale?”

It wasn’t that crazy of a thought, she wanted to retort.

But before she could even get a word in, Sebastian bulldozed on.

“Fucking hell. I think I’ve mentioned her name all but three times in the last six years I’ve been in this castle. All I talk about is you all day everyday, which makes Ominis go absolutely livid! All you have to do is say my name and I’d stop everything at the drop of a fucking hat to do literally anything you ask for me—”

Did he know what he was saying? She wanted to scream. The feelings in her chest were so intense she feared that she might just throw up.

Could he hear the absolutely ludicrous and inconceivable things coming out of his silly mouth? Did he know what in Salazar’s name he was saying to her?

And he wasn’t even done yet.

“—I look for you in every hallway, every classroom, every corner in this bloody castle! For Merlin’s sake, I can’t even begin to fathom how you could not know that I’m stupidly love with you—”

Despite herself. Despite the stabbing pain in her chest. Despite the stitches in her lungs. She lunged her body forward and pushed her own chapped, split and desperate lips onto his.

And when their lips met — good God.

She had no idea how she had waited so long to do this.

And she hoped for his sake that Sebastian hadn’t said any of that lightly, because now that she had finally had him, she was never ever letting him out of her shaky, unpracticed hands.

At first, Sebastian had been taken aback. His mouth unmoving, eyes open in disbelief. It was as if he was observing the scene from outside of himself.

But then soon enough — he was all in, and he had his hands cupping the curve of her cheek to pull her closer to him. Soon enough, Sebastian was kissing her like he was looking for something. Pushing, pulling, scouring the shape of her mouth like she was a puzzle to be deciphered. Gripping tightly onto the sides of her waist and the small of her back like she was a prized to be possessed.

And she obliged.

Whatever he wanted to know she’d tell him. If she were a prize, she'd use every cheat every ruse in her arsenal to make sure he'd win.

She just hoped that her needy moans conveyed her willingness to be compliant in his competent hands.

Her limbs ached, her bones groaned. This kiss was too wild, too strenuous, too demanding for her worn out body. But she didn’t care. The floodgates had opened now, whether either of them knew it, and this feeling was unquenchable.

He tasted like home and aftershave and salt and all those silly peppermint candies he ate all the time. If she could fasten herself to him with an irreversible stitch, she would. If she could seal herself into a perfect mould of his arms, she would. If the shivers that raced down her spine could etch themselves permanently into her nerve endings in her skin, she’d gladly bear the mark.

In between peppered, sloppy kisses, she managed to gasp, "I'm in love with you too."

There was no time for pauses. She had no use for breathing; no use for air. She had no use for anything that didn’t include his lips.

His laugh was gravelly and tired and breathy. But it was filled with relief and tenderness all the same.

“Thank fucking god,” Sebastian murmured.

Her hands instinctively found their way to his hair, fingers tangling into the strands of his. She revelled in the texture of him. In her daydreams and her undisclosed fantasies, she had always wondered what it would feel like. Would he be as gentle as his charms implied? Or was he as abrasive as his words could be?

But despite his devouring intensity, despite how ardently he consumed her — everything about Sebastian was soft. His lips were soft. His body was soft. His hands were soft.

She leaned in to kiss him again, but he pulled back. Which immensely disappointed her. And she wasn’t shy to let it show on her face.

"Be careful. You're still recovering." He managed to get out, but it was weak.

Yes, that was true. It was very lovely and sensible of him to say.

But frankly, she couldn't give two fucks.

"I wouldn't mind dying today," she replied breathlessly, her voice laced heavily with longing.

He groaned into the edge of her mouth, "Way too soon."

She smiled wryly. Was it wicked of her to take delight in how protective he was being?

Silence hung in the air.

"Please just... just be careful next time?" he said, his voice wavering slightly.

She looked into his eyes, "I will."

With a gentle squeeze of his hand, she hoped that he knew that she truly meant it. That by definition, her feelings for him meant that her assurance was very much real. Because if not with words, she needed him to know through this gesture that she too looked for him in every inch of this castle. That she too would drop everything at his beck and call.

He squeezed her hand back in return.

Message understood?

“And as much as I’d love to keep kissing you," he whispered with a playful glint in his eye, "I would hate for Nurse Blainey to shun me from the infirmary for so shamelessly accosting one of her patients."

A soft chuckle escaped her lips, the tension easing between them. "You're right. We wouldn't want that," she replied, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

—

A/N: This is deffo a little different from the normal soft/simpy Seb that I write. I tried to go for overly flirtatious and wildly charming Seb and a pining MC this time to shake things up!! I still think they're cuties.

Gosh, I hope you guys liked it!! I'M STILL WORKING ON OTHER REQUESTS and of course my bb A Knowing Look! They will be taking a while but I promise I will be putting my heart and soul into them.

xoxo gruff

#sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow imagines #sebastian sallow fic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy #requests

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domreader-headcannon-scenarios · 7 months

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It Fucks with me that straight up

Purgatory hall, the new characters and basically people in Mc//ourlives don’t know what Belphie did in chapter 16 and esp in Nightbringer, like we 100% habe trauma and like straight up makes me wanna write angst but I’m Shitty with it and always fuck it up

So I’m just….gonna ramble under cut about it? //spoilers for both games I suppose!

So to start, there’s several instances of the brothers (and in one occasion Barbatos and Diavolo separately) get aggressive towards reader and I like imagine they must have some kinda PTSD since they’ve literally died and honestly I self project and I act nothing like Mc…I’d be in fucking tears miserable over the fact I just got warped in the past without anyone but my mentor

Like I cant see my family, friends or PETS for who knows how long???

Just imagine how it would feel….

You’re already living in a worn down old building since the moment you’ve arrived in the past, where else can you go?? The brothers aren’t friendly, you have not a cent to your name, just what’s on your person the second you’re dropped off and left. You WANT to think things will be ok, Solomon is here to help you so at least you’re not alone but…

You will die eventually, what if this takes too long, and you die here? Will anyone from your timeline ever find out?

Would you family know? Your friends?

Solomon keeps reassuring you that it’s fine, but he’s a sorcerer who’s immune to everything…his own stupidity gave him immortality…maybe if you’re unlucky enough he’d make you immortal and you’d…wait till you could see the brothers ‘normally’ again. Well them and everyone else.

As time goes on you ultimately are forced to continue to try to re friend them. Solomon is equal parts helpful as he is a problem, but it all seems to work out.

Until they find out your human. Why does it matter? You never said you were a demon! You TOLD THEM YOU WERE HUMAN. They laughed it off…why is it your fault…your not like them?

Belphegore was the aggressor, just like before. You don’t know if he was going to hurt you and you didn’t want to find out. You saw his hand reaching towards you, almost like they were going for your throat…

Again…

“Not again!”

You screamed as you collapsed on the ground, hand instinctively going to protect your neck. You’re gasping for air even though you haven’t been touched yet, you’re terrified. Is this really it? Is he really going to kill you again? Did you really think…this would end well, Solomon? Diavolo? Barbatos?…Anyone?

Now you are where you are, trembling and in tears on the ground. But you didn’t feel anyone grab you, you did however feel like someone walked in front of you. To your relief, Solomon had come to your rescue…

You wanted to appreciate it, but all you wanted to do was go home now.

You let out a broken sob, you honestly didn’t care anymore if they saw you like this. You have been through hell and back for these idiots and yet, you still love them so much, so much so that all you want to do is see them again, but the version of them you know.

You love them, they are worth it, but why do you have to suffer for it? Your time in the human world after Devildom…nothing bad happened…maybe…you’re the problem?

With your mind spiraling, you don’t even hear everyone shouting, you don’t hear your name, you don’t hear who says it.

All you can do is cry and hope whoever sent you here shows mercy and let’s you go home.

(Ok now it’s done sorry)

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me x reader #Solomon x reader #angst

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inbarfink · 1 year

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It’s truly hard to overstate just how much Spamton’s mere existence is a nightmare for himself. Like, arguably the life of everyone in the Deltarune universe, and especially the Darkners, is an existential nightmare. Spamton’s just on a whole other level. This is Advanced Existential Nightmare.

Cause yeah, on some level it’s always kinda depressing to think about the idea that all Darkners are bound to the fact that they are created from inanimate objects and the emotions Lightners associate with them. That this forms some sort of irrevocable inner essence and Purpose they can never change, even if they truly wanted to be something else. No one can choose who they are in this world and so on.

But like, at least most of the other Darkners we met can get some sort of contentment from following the role they have been given. Tasque Manager loves managing things (and Tasques), Lancer is a playing card who ultimately just wants to play around and have fun, Queen seems to truly love being a useful computer who can supply Lightners with endless hours of entertainment and knowledge in her own egoist way. Even King’s initial angst was based around no longer being able to fulfill his purpose.

But Spamton… as the living embodiment of Spam Mail, he was created with the desires of your typical spam-mail; advertising and/or scamming people. And he was created to be obsessed with the things that your typical Spam Mail talks about; success, fortune, status and [[BIG SHOT]]. But he was also created to be utterly terrible at accomplishing these things.

He’s Spam Mail, Spam Mail is weird, obviously scammy and generally gets ignored or thrown away. And no matter how much Spamton wants or how hard he tries, by the basic nature of his being, he can never actually be good at this. And he also can’t, like, understand that maybe salesmanship isn’t his thing and take up macramé or something. Because that obsession is also part of his basic nature. Spamton’s basic nature is to be forever frustrated, desperate and miserable.

And that’s exactly why he’s the first Darkner we’ve seen who’s truly set on cutting his puppet-strings. I think that a lot of the ‘Freedom’ he wants is freedom from that utterly miserable lot in life. To longer be bound by the rules of Being Spamton. On some level it’s probably about breaking the Rule of Nature that means he has to be a failure, that he can’t truly become a [[BIG SHOT]] on his own. He wants to overthrow God so he can get the financial success that feels he deserves.

(I know some people are angry at the Mysterious Voice on the Phone for abandoning Spamton, but I do wonder if it wasn’t basically inevitable. That the Mysterious Voice, regardless of what they wanted, could simply not subvert Spamton’s Failure-ness forever)

And that’s kinda tragic cause it’s shows that even when trying to break away, he’s still doing so through the lenses of the existential curse that’s causing him so much suffering. To be free is to get [[BIG]], and the only way to get [[BIG]] is by scamming and tricking and manipulating. Because as long as he’s Spamton, those are really the only things he can do.

But on some level, I think, he might also want to be free of that. Maybe it started as wanting to break away from the ‘script’ that means he’s bound to be a failure - but with time, I think he also grew to want to want different things. It’s clear Spamton is very distressed about losing the friendship of the Addisons and Swatch. He considers his own loneliness as one of the most defining traits of his own existence (he always start projecting on Kris on the basis of both of them being lonely). But he literally can’t put his obsessive quest for success aside and focus on his relationships. He literally can’t.

Outside of, I guess, the Pacifist ending to his NEO fight. That’s the one point where Spamton was able to put his ambitions aside for the sake of friendships.

If only for a moment.

But however brief it was, it still feel like it meant something to Spamton.

#deltarune #spamton #spamton g spamton #spamton deltarune #deltarune meta

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zantetsukenedd · 1 year

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the forehead kiss scene is so obviously homoerotic but i feel like the tomgregs don’t talk enough the “wrestle me to the ground” scene. because there is NO explanation for that.

like yes, we know that tom is upset with greg because he’ll be leaving for parks and he won’t going to prison. you could read more deeply into that, but set it aside for a moment. tldr; our pathetic meow meow, tom wambs, has offered to go to prison for logan and he’s regretting it.

i believe the nero/sporus comparison is homoerotic enough on its own –– but one could play devil’s advocate and say that tom only wants companionship from greg because shiv has been offering him little to none. and because of the prison ordeal, he’s in desperate need of both companionship + emotional support. it’s been established that he projects the failures of his marriage onto greg, so –– fair enough? push your wife down the stairs, castrate your assistant. cool.

+ in a deeper sense, the nero/sporus metaphor is seemingly tied to tom’s feelings of emasculation. it’s no surprise that tom says this hours after he challenges shiv’s dominance in their relationship and loses ... miserably.

correct me if i’m wrong, but sexual practices in ancient rome were based on activity and passivity –– aka, masculine dominance and feminine submissiveness. (citing my classics prof for this, lmao.) from what i’ve gleaned, this dichotomy is what defined social views on homosexuality in ancient rome.

it would make sense for tom to read this story of an ancient roman emperor and be reminded of his desire to be more dominant/masculine in his relationships.

summarily, if he can’t be dominant in his relationship with shiv, he can be dominant in his relationship with greg. it’s an unromantic perspective, but ... oh well. succ isn’t too romantic to begin with. it would also be a way for tom to (unhealthily) reconcile with his romantic feelings toward greg. ie., sure, i’m attracted to him, but that doesn’t make me any less masculine. just think of nero the emperor!

it seems to me that tom wants to be seen as a masculine man. (as a matter of fact, he makes mention of his masculinity in the scene above.) which is understandable, given that his relationship with siobhan is depicted as very unequal. so yeah –– it could be written off as standard feelings of emasculation coming from a man, but honestly?

i’d argue that due to a lifetime of repression, internalized homophobia & some preconceived notions, tom believes that his homosexual desires make him less masculine. i believe it stems from his repressed homosexuality. like –– why else would he be so desperate to appear masculine, despite ... not being very masculine by nature.

(he may have even sought out this story in particular so that he could feel better about having these romantic desires for a man to begin with ...)

so that explains the nero/sporus reference.

but when tom says “wrestle me to the ground”, what is he asking for? as in, that is a genuine question. maybe i’m just tomgreg-pilled, but it really does seem like:

tom is just so desperate to know greg’s touch that he’s willing to wrestle him, like the nude men who fought in bygone stadiums. (something which conveniently relates to that book about the romans that tom mentions.)

he’ll never know his touch as a lover, tom tells himself –– so he’ll have to settle for this. after all, he’s being sent to prison and greg is all set for his new career in parks, where he’ll no doubt forget all about him. it’s now or never.

it’s an act of desperation.

and greg says no, understandably –– but tom persists. he’s worked himself up, fists raised, pushing greg up against a wall. a force of anger and repression. as usual, he’s just too much. he’s self-destructing. at last, greg stands up for himself tells tom to stop, which he does. it’s then the humiliation sets in. he’s humiliated himself.

and THIS –– this is when it comes full circle.

tom feels stupid and embarrassed, so he tries to make greg feel doubly stupid and embarrassed by mocking him. it’s a see-through attempt at saving face. downright childish.

he then looks spurned and troubled for a few moments before he shouts, “neither do i, greg! it was a JOKE, you idiot!” when it ... obviously wasn’t.

he’s the picture of someone who’s been rejected and can’t seem to take it: hurt and defensive.

it’s strange, no? tom bullies greg all the damn time and he’s never once thought to make excuses about it. he doesn’t feel an ounce of shame when he calls greg a coke whore in front of kendall. but this time –– this time he feels embarrassed.

and i immediately think back to their first conversation. the infamous “would you kiss me? if i asked you to?” because ... tom said that was a joke, too. maybe it wasn’t.

ALL I’M SAYING IS THAT I LOVE THIS SCENE. matthew and nicholas are goddamn phenomenal and i really hope season 4 brings us some closure in regards to the psychosexual power struggle that is tomgreg. ahhhh!

#tomgreg #analysis #aka me posting my thoughts bc where the hell else am i gonna put them #paranoid that i’m reading this scene VERY WRONG but oh well #personal interpretations x

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chemdisaster · 4 months

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bad boys best buds au boat boys brainstorming session! (7 whole b's, wow)

so in like 8th grade they get paired up for a creative project that spans a good few months. the topic of the project is unimportant, but they end up making a model of a ship (and everyone else in the class makes their double life bases as well). and that's all fine and dandy, but then towards the end of it scott and joel get into yet another altercation and as revenge scott destroys their ship (not with fire unfortunately because it's a school). etho and joel are understandably upset by this, and especially upset when it comes out that no one in the class really cares at all and in fact watched him do it. so in return they destroy everyone's projects. they get a reasonable amount of detention for this (idk how long, we didn't have detention when i was in school) and etho seems to agree that it was all worth it, but then the next day at detention he ignores joel entirely. and just like that, the boat boys are over.

at the same time, joel confronts his fellow bad boys. he's hurt at how uncaring they are towards what happened (their reactions essentially amounting to "it was bound to happen at some point"), and especially hurt that grian doesn't care that scar assisted scott in the destruction of the ship. they have a fight about it that ends with joel and the other two bad boys not speaking. around the same time begins the formation of ties, who are a bit of a rival of the bad boys. no one ever really took joel seriously to start with, and now here he is, all alone, at odds with everyone whom he cares about and more or less hated by the entire class for what he did. (to rub salt into the wound, etho doesn't get the same flack because everyone's an ethogirl.)

joel's miserable loner arc goes on for maybe a few weeks, but then the bad boys make up and that's that. meanwhile, joel approaches etho a few times, and each time is rather painfully rejected, with etho either denying that the boat boys were ever a thing or throwing it in his face. so joel lets it go. now fast forward to somewhere in high school, and now etho is the one to approach joel seeking a reconciliation. this time joel is the one who rejects him several times. at some point etho gets dared to tell joel that he loves him and joel basically tells him to go fuck himself. over time, though, it starts working. etho is clearly being sincere, and joel feels himself going soft.

they don't quite fix their relationship while they're still in school, i don't think, but maybe they meet up a few years after school and start working on rebuilding what they once had.

so that's all i have down so far. obsessed with them and this au

#unfortunately though they don't get very far with fixing their relationship before uhhh stuff happens >:)#bad boys best buds au #joel smallishbeans #smallishbeans #smallishbeans angst #etho #ethoslab #boat boys #the bad boys #limited life #limlsmp #llsmp2 #double life #dlsmp #trafficblr #life series

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 8 months

Note

i dont know if youre taking requests but if youd like to, would you write a comfort fic with nathan bateman where the reader has really severe anxiety and panic attacks? i really love your nathan fics and barely anyone writes him, especially not the way you do

I am and thank you so much for the request! (I have such a soft spot for this silly man.) And thank you so much for your kind words (I am so terrible at expressing how much comments mean to me.)

(Also I am assuming you suffer from panic attacks, as do I, I hope you're okay and are doing well💚)

Any Time

Nathan Bateman X GN!Reader Rating: T Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged? | request info

Warnings: Panic attacks, swearing, typos! Railroad sentences! Soft!Nathan being a big softie, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 683

_______________________________________

You weren’t sure what set it off. Whether it had been one thing, or a combination. At the very least, if you had been sure of the cause you could try to avoid it in the future.

But here you were, in the middle of the kitchen, clutching the countertop so tightly that you probably could have ripped the marble in two.

You knew what it was. Had had so many by now that they should have been routine. The fact that you knew it was a panic attack should have been enough to calm you, to settle your breathing and the crushing weight in your chest.

Instead the air caught in your throat and somehow didn’t seem to make it to your lungs. The dread built and grew until your bones were shaking under the weight of it.

This was going to last forever. This wasn’t going to end. This was-

“You okay?” Nathan’s voice cut through your internal dialogue like an air horn. It was too much. And only added to sickening compression around your throat. You didn’t want him here. Didn’t need him to see you like this.

Talking was practically impossible.

You shook your head, and managed to release the counter just long enough to wave your left hand dismissively. I’m fine.

“Hey, hey, hey,” you didn’t hear him walk towards you, but you felt his hand on your clammy shoulder. Warm and cold at the same time, too heavy, too much.

You shrug him away, looking down, trying and failing to control your breathing. To get a hold of yourself.

“Sorry, hey, sorry,” he held up his hands. “Look at me okay?”

You shook your head. Little spots of swirling colours were starting to appear at the corners of your vision. You were going to be sick. You were going to fall down. You were going to be-

“Look. At. Me.”

The firmness of his voice seemed to pull at your limbs, moving you before you even had the chance to register what he had said.

“You’re okay. It’s alright.” He nodded, keeping his voice calm and soft. “You’re gonna breathe with me alright,” he took in a breath through his nose. Over exaggerating the action and holding it for four seconds before he breathed out through his mouth.

He repeated the process, composed and sure. Breathing in, breathing out, breathing in, breathing out.

“You’re doing great, you’re okay,” he repeated between breaths.

Breathe in, breathe out.

“Doing so good, baby.”

You missed the pet name, didn’t see the flicker of self consciousness that flashed across his face at his slip of the tongue.

“You’re safe, nothings gonna happen.”

You tried to match him, at first failing miserably. But slowly both of your chests started to rise and fall in rhythm.

He continued to talk while you started to calm, the shaking in your hands lessening.

“You know how many panic attacks I’ve had?” He didn’t wait, or want a response. Just letting you focus on your breathing.

“So many. Hundreds, thousands maybe.” Nathan continued. “One always sticks in my head, I’d messed up some really basic coding. I was tired and stressed and it was really fucked up. And I just… broke.” He shrugs. “Panicking all by myself at half four in the morning.”

He smiles. “Thing is, the coding was just for a project I was working on. No deadline, no one else was gonna see it. I wasn’t letting anyone down, no one’s life was at risk and still… it was like my body was crumbling around me. Just,” he motions towards his chest. “Imploding. Suffocating me.”

He smiles again, but this time it’s at you. One of those rare, soft Nathan smiles.

Your breathing is a lot better, a lot closer to normal.

“Can I get you some water?”

You nod and Nathan helps you to sit at the kitchen table before he brings over a glass. Ice cubes are floating at the top.

He sits down next to you as you gulp half of the water down.

“Thank you.” You whisper.

“Any time.”

____________________________________

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#nathan bateman #ex machina #nathan bateman x reader #x reader #nathan bateman x you #x you #nathan bateman x gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #nathan bateman x gn!reader #x gn!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

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fkinavocado · 1 year

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Daddy issues- Masterlist, Author’s Note & Warnings

extra / alternatively, read on wattpad

based on this prompt, set loosely in the future

Maybe (word count: 3.2k)

Harry was busier than usual with work. He’d been cooped up in his study all day, working round the clock to finish a project that was apparently a big deal. He even asked you to order take out because he just couldn’t afford taking time off to help you out in the kitchen with dinner, and although you told him you could manage on your own, he just wouldn’t hear of it.

You eventually caved and went into his study under the pretence of clearing out the chinese noodle boxes and even tried distracting him a bit. Sat in his lap and nibbled at his jawline suggestively, but the man never unglued his eyes off his computer screen.

It was infuriating.

Having been severely bored over the weekend what with him burying himself in his work, you’d decided to finally pick up on your reading. You’d started a book a few weeks ago but you kept having to put it down and never really got into it, but now that you had the time, you settled in, reading in the bedroom and you were taken aback by how… steamy it was.

You hadn’t realised it was erotica when you picked it out at the bookstore. Sure it had a good storyline, an actual plot, but it was downright filthy. Good filthy. Very good filthy.

The fact that your reading had gotten you so wet was what had prompted you to go into his study to try and distract him, and when that failed miserably, you returned to the bedroom and for the first time in a long while proceeded to pleasure yourself. You even left the door ajar, in hopes of getting caught. You reminisced on that first night you’d met Harry and masturbated unashamedly in between his sheets, and his later admission to having heard you calling out to him as you orgasmed. Calling him “daddy”, of all things. To this day, that was one of your fondest memories and one you’d used as material for such occasions numerous times.

But you were already so turned on that it didn’t require much of a build up for you to climax. And although you wanted a deliberate repeat of him overhearing you, you knew he was seriously busy in there, so you decided to keep silent. If he were to emerge from his study and walk in on you, then so be it, but you weren’t going to moan out loud and purposely disturb his work. You were desperate, but not quite as desperate as to do that.

Yet.

Thankfully, your release did help a bit. It took the edge off, but you came hard, and now you were all sleepy. It was only around 9pm though, so you decided to go take a relaxing bath instead. Unwind a bit more.

When you emerged from the steamy en suite, you were surprised to see Harry sitting on the edge of the bed “Hi, stranger! Finally came out of that mancave?”

“C’mere”

You were about to go into your walk in closet to grab something to sleep in, having slipped on your silk robe after your bath. You’d forgone washing your hair, plopping it up in a messy bun and you were just removing your hair tie, letting it fall over your shoulders when his husky voice stopped you in your tracks.

You could recognize his bedroom voice anytime- daddy’s voice, when he came out to play. You felt instantly jolted awake from your state of drowsiness. Your feet made their way towards him and in between his legs on their own accord. It was like a Pavlovian reflex, hearing those commands. Especially when you were (still) so riled up.

One look into his eyes and you knew you’d been right, if you even needed any confirmation. They were glazed over with lust and although tired, you could see the fire burning behind those dark pupils.

“All ready for bed, sweetheart?” he cooed, his hands finding purchase on your hips, squeezing intently “Hmm. You smell so nice” he leaned in, sneaking his nose in your robe’s neckline and inhaling profoundly. He then moaned as he exhaled and you felt your knees go weak. He could tell you were turning to mush by the way he steadied you, tightening his grip on your fleshy hips. He then used the tip of his nose to circle your right nipple through your silk robe and your lips parted with a shaky exhale when he then mouthed at your hardened nipple through the fabric. His mouth was warm and wet and you whimpered pathetically at the feel of him after the way that damn book got you so on edge the whole day. It’d felt almost as if you’d edged yourself reading it, that orgasm you’d given yourself just earlier having done seemingly nothing to satiate your desire. You needed him and there was no substitute. You’d come hard and still, it fell short in comparison to the sensations only him and him alone could coax out of you.

He mouthed at your breasts like that until he got your robe all nice and wet and when you finally combed your nails through his curls he delicately hooked his pointer finger into the neckline and pulled the material a little to the side, enough to get your left tit out. He latched his lips around the nipple immediately, low moans vibrating from deep in his chest and straight to your clit seemingly- that’s where you felt it.

“Oh my god” you whined, tugging at his roots a little and he reciprocated, nipping at your bud in turn

“God i love sucking on your tits. Licking and biting all over them and fitting as much as I can into my mouth. Want you to smother me with them” he freed the other as well and kneaded the flesh, pressing them together, sticking his tongue flat out and licking over them sloppily and you didn’t know if you could stand still anymore, your legs were trembling in anticipation

“Please” you whisper-moaned “Please, please…”

“Love it when you ask so nicely, baby. Gonna beg daddy to fuck you silly?” he never stopped loving on your flesh as he spoke and you kept trying to shove your nipples back into his mouth with each mumble against your skin

“Yes, yes, daddy. Please, I need it. I need you. Quit teasing”

He ran his hands up and down the sides of your body, and made his way to your bum “‘M not teasing you, darling. Just loving on you. Savouring you. Gonna deny daddy?” he groped your ass harshly and you yelped

“Never!”

He chuckled lowly, still licking over your chest while he snaked one hand up the slit of your robe and brushed his knuckles over your naked pussy “Oh my goodness, Y/N. What a needy little thing you are for daddy” he tutted and you couldn’t help but whimper in response “You’re drenched, sweetheart. Your weepy little pussy is just begging for me to stuff it full of daddy’s cock, isn’t it?” he kept ghosting his knuckles over your slit and you chased his hand but his other kept you still and you knew better than to try and act greedy. He was going to dictate the pace and you would follow suit, that was the dance you would engage in the bedroom, always have, always will. He was in charge, and you were more than willing to let him do whatever he deemed fit to you. Complete trust, you’d hand your body over to him and he would worship it, make you lose yourself in the feel of him. You wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Please daddy, please touch me. Been a good girl…”

“Hmmm. Have you?”

“Uh-huh” you nodded quickly “Your good girl. Please…”

“Then tell me, sweetheart, whose pussy is this?” he looked right into your eyes as he finally brought his thumb over your clit, massaging slowly and you moaned loudly

“It’s yours, daddy!”

“Yeah? Only daddy gets to play with it, right?”

You nodded, bracing your hands over his shoulders and trying to press yourself harder against his thumb, but he wasn’t letting you. The more you squirmed, the less pressure he applied to your clit and you tried to compose yourself, a hint of warning glimmering in his eyes as you stared hazily into them “Only you, daddy…”

“And tell me, baby, does daddy ever leave you wanting?”

You shook your head rapidly “Never. Never. Treat me so good…”

“Yeah? You know daddy’s always gonna take care of you, darling. Even if I’m busy, I’ll always steal away and tend to you, you know that, right?” with that, he applied more pressure and you could feel your thighs sticking together in arousal.

“So good to me” you smiled dreamily

He sunk his middle finger into you at that and you all but lost your footing “Look at that. What a filthy girl…” he finally undid the bow holding your robe together, pushing the sides apart and staring right at what he was doing to you, his mouth lax with want and you squeezed his shoulders, trembling with need “Fuck, I need my face in there. Gonna eat you out, baby, wanna lick you clean” he took his finger out of you and brought it to your nipple, smearing it in your arousal before sucking it clean. He then pushed the robe off your shoulders, letting it pool at your ankles and grabbed at you, tossing you on the bed, ass up, face down, dragging you back towards the edge so that he sat kneeling on the floor while he buried his face in your needy cunt.

When he finally got his face smeared in your arousal he groaned against you, the vibration turning your brain to mush instantly “Fuck, daddy, gonna come all over your face”

“Not until daddy says so, precious” he delivered a smack to your bum in warning, but all it did was make you moan louder

“I can’t — Please, been dying to all day…”

“Hm?” he pushed two fingers into you as he pulled back a bit, twisting and turning them with every plunge, and you clutched at the comforter trying to stave off your orgasm. You’d been so on edge the whole day, you’d been fighting it ever since he first touched you “You’re telling me you didn’t touch yourself, Y/N? Gonna lie to me like that?” he slapped your ass, twice, hard and you jumped at the sting “Answer me!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, daddy! I tried coming to you… and you were- ah! You were busy… and I wanted to be good… but I needed to cum so badly… “

“And why is that? What got you so worked up, baby? Hm? Tell daddy” when you didn’t answer he pulled his fingers out and delivered a sharp swat to your clit using those same wet digits and you jumped again and cried out in pleasure-pain “Better start using your words darling, otherwise I’ll edge you over and over again and then I’ll bring you back into my study to cockwarm me using that pretty mouth of yours while I work, just so I can keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t go behind daddy’s back again”

“Fuck!” you whined, frustration building up. You knew he wasn’t kidding around, he would do just that and you felt you could go cross eyed if you didn’t come, and quick “I… I read something… and it got me really horny…”

“Yeah? Go on…”

“It was just really hot… and it got me really squirmy… and I came to you but you were busy! I promise I tried waiting, daddy… please don’t be mad at me… please, please, let me come. I’ll be good, I promise!”

“Awh, my poor baby” he kissed over your swollen clit tenderly and you melted into his touch, relaxing into the mattress at his slower pace, hoping he was going to take mercy on you “How can I be cross with you when you came to daddy first… and then felt like you had to take care of yourself as to not bother me. Should’ve waited for daddy, yes… but I’ll let it slide this one time, hm? Won’t do it again, will you sweetheart?”

“Nuh-huh, I promise, daddy…”

“Not gonna try and lie to daddy about it, either?” he kept kissing over your clit, soft, gentle touches of his lips, then feather-like strokes of his tongue all across your slit and up towards your bum

“I didn’t want to make you — fuck! Didn’t want to upset you… I’m so sorry”

“You taste so good, baby. Not sure I could deny you right now even if I wanted to” he hummed his appreciation and kept pressing his face further against your pussy, his nose pressing into you as he slurped and sucked on your clit. He alternated between sucking on it and licking you top to bottom, lapping up all your juices and the noises his actions made were downright pornographic “Love eating your little pussy. So fucking good. Never wanna take my mouth off of you” he kept dragging his tongue further up towards your bum as he spread your cheeks further apart, kneading your flesh in between light smacks to your bum “Like it when daddy eats you out, baby?”

“Love it. Never stop, please…”

“Never wanna stop. Wanna keep tasting you, but also, really really wanna fuck you. I’m about to burst just from this alone, baby”

You were debating asking him to do it, even if it meant delaying your orgasm, when you felt him lick further up and you were caught off guard with how amazing it felt. Hearing your reaction to it, Harry did it again, this time slower and you groaned in bliss “Oh, fuck!”

“Hm? Like this, baby? Like daddy all the way over here as well?”

“Felt so fucking good. Do it again, please…” you pleaded wantonly. You’d never explored anything anal before, and it suddenly dawned on you that he must’ve opened your book at the page you’d dog eared. You saved it, since you enjoyed reading that scene so much. You never knew you’d wanna try it before, never really saw the appeal to it, but the way it’d been described in the book really had you curious as to whether it could be as amazing and intense as it sounded. It was the scene that had gotten you so worked up that you went to try and distract Harry, and ultimately made you resort to touching yourself. So now that he was tentatively exploring this with you, you didn’t know whether to feel embarrassed for having been found out or relieved to not have to verbally ask Harry if he wanted to give it a go.

“Fuck, baby. Such a filthy little thing you are, asking daddy to eat your little ass, aren’t you?” he kept dragging his tongue over your puckered hole while rubbing over your clit and dragging a finger to your other one, plunging it in and back out towards your clit again

“Oh my god, that feels amazing” you gasped hazily. You couldn’t believe how good it felt.

“Yeah? Gonna let daddy fuck your tight ass too, baby? Gonna feel so good and full… fuck, you’re gonna love me in there”

“I will” you whined “I will, just —please! Please, please, daddy!”

“Does my pretty baby wanna come?”

“Please!”

He pulled away, sitting upright and you looked at him over your shoulder as he pushed his pants along with his boxers down his legs, his leaky cock standing at full mast “Gonna let you come, sweetheart. Gonna come all over daddy’s cock, yeah? Wanna feel you milk me good” he nudged at your entrance and you groaned in pure bliss once he pushed inside you

Once he bottomed out, he pulled himself out and dragged himself through your folds and up over your hole, spreading your arousal and you panicked a bit, wondering if he was gonna keep true to his word so quickly “Relax for me, sweetheart, not gonna fuck into your tight hole, not yet. Gonna make sure you’re all stretched out for daddy first, and you’re a little too far gone for that right now. Wanna do this all proper. But I love how responsive you are. Love a little bit of pressure on here, don’t you?” he pushed his tip against yout hole and you moaned at the feel, so he kept spreading your arousal, brushing against your newfound erogenous spot

“Mhm. Feels so good, never thought it could feel like that”

“Yeah? Want a lil bit more?”

“I can try” you moaned as he pushed himself back inside your cunt. He then kneaded your ass in time with his thrusts and slowly began circling your hole using his thumb, your arousal he’d smeared on there acting as lubricant and you felt like you were going to pass out from trying to stave off your orgasm “Fuck! So good, daddy. Oh!” he slowly pushed his thumb inside and you screamed your pleasure “Oh my god! Oh god! Gonna come! Please! Please!”

Harry applied firm pressure using his thumb while he fucked into you at a punishing pace “You’re fucking unreal. My best girl, come for daddy. Let go for me baby, come on, let me hear you”

You cried out in bliss, and heard Harry follow you as he emptied himself into you, riding out your orgasms until he finally collapsed next to you, your knees having given out as soon as he slipped out of you. You felt like you might’ve blacked out for a moment there, that’s how intense it’d all been.

“I think I just had an outer body experience” you mumbled against the comforter and Harry chuckled, reaching out and pulling you against his chest

“I’ve never felt less guilty for snooping before. Came in here to dote on you a little, felt bad for letting you leave my study all pouty earlier. Thought I’d busy myself while you were in there, and was curious as to what you’ve been reading all day. Didn’t realise it’d be straight up porn” he teased

You gasped “It’s not porn!”

Harry raised an eyebrow at you and reached to swat your ass playfully “Dirty little thing. Were you ever going to tell me about it?”

You shied away from his gaze, nestling into his side “Maybe”

He chuckled again “With the way you came clawing at me in the study earlier, ‘m pretty sure you’d have bent over the desk for me in no time”

“...Maybe” your voice was muffled with how much you were trying to hide your face into his chest

He sighed contentedly, tightening his hold around you “You can act innocent all you want, sweetheart. Only I know the truth though, and I’m the luckiest son of a bitch for it, too.”

Daddy issues- Masterlist

A/N: hope you enjoyed this hefty serving of pure filth you lil horndogs 💋

💕 like & reblog if you enjoyed this, lovelies, and most importantly, please come share your thoughts on it here 💌

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#harry styles smut #dilfrry #harry styles #dilf harry styles #dadrry #daddy harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles prompt #harry styles concept #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles reader insert #daddy issues #daddyissuesblurb

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aqours · 6 months

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ok i REAAAAAALLY need to make a dedicated sideblog for this shit now i realize bc this game is gonna fucking fully get me dragged into this discourse so i'm gonna make an active effort to stop putting these on main, but i can't see myself saying more beyond this in general but ANYWAAAAYS

so i recently made this post about the cognitive dissonance regarding this game and people using fucking CALL OF DUTY a game that is more or less a recruitment drive to make the US military look cool and try to get kids to join up and that GTA's wanted system is actually NOT rewarding you or something to try to play a dick measuring contest with coffin but this interaction really interested me and i wanna talk about it bc i just blocked them after they refused to answer the last question but this is a very specific kind of gaslighting tactic i'm very familiar with from my own days as an anti

i think p much all of us who are used to engaging with this discourse are used to like y'know, being called awful horrible disgusting things. this is not the first time some fucking weird random person came onto my content asking me if i was a kid didler or wanted to fuck my brother. ain't gonna be anywhere near the last time either folks, but i and Lord God knows that's not the case so i don't care what a rando on the internet says but here's the thing: you can't "win" this, but they want to win it. no matter what you say you are the absolute worst kind of dreg of society that should be shot behind a barn and no amount of anything would work. if i actually pulled a list of sourced all that would have happened was they would've doubled down on calling me an inc*s*ious p*d* that I would be willing to use articles probably written by "people like me." because YOU don't care about "winning" this argument, you just wanna get the facts out on your end. it's a catch-22 folks, nothing you say will get you out of it!

i started by calling them a karen, they immediately escalated the living FUCK out of it and tried to trap me in this catch-22 to keep feeling morally superior to me. me saying i don't have such desires and never will isn't enough because i like this game. nothing but me renouncing it will change it.

but here's the thing about antis- they fucking HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATE it when you turn it on them. look at the difference. look at the difference between they were the one throwing the catch-22 at me vs. the other way around. what about you? you just came onto my post to harass me, so i'll say it back. how about you? are you just accusing me of these horrible things because you are projecting your thoughts on me? you told me to get a therapist: so maybe you're the one that needs help if so!

violent video games must encourage violence, riiiiight? and you support it because it's violent. Game of Thrones had in*e*t in it so everyone who likes it also is the same. and Demon Slayer, where the pfp is from is violent, so you support it. the main protag's little sister also gets a superpowered form where she gets physically older and a tits out kinda look. so clearly YOU want to see your sister in the same way, right?

and it went as expected. you can see the tone going from smug jerking off with a shit-eating grin to just annoyed while smelling their own farts like it's a rose. and the moment i started doing the same uh i got NO fucking answers and they stormed off. i waited half an hour for a response before blocking them

so why am i typing up this walltext? because i used to be an anti. i fucking guarantee you i would've called everyone who liked this game [insert horrible things] like 7-9 years ago. so let me tell you, you know what pisses off antis more than anything? more than ANYTHING? turning this catch-22 bullshit on them. this is the only way you can end this miserable conversation without blocking them.

it's all one-sided bullshit and the moment you turn it on an anti it IMMEDIATLY shuts it down. this fucker KNEW the answer and you know it. so i wanted to share that, if you ever struggle with this shit: well the best thing you can do is block them and to give a fuck about winning their imaginary argument, but this is the only way to make the headache end otherwise. just throw the catch-22 right back and that's the end. thanks for reading!

#starposts #the coffin of andy and leyley #coffin of andy and leyley #proship #comship #long post #anti anti #discourse cw #ok i REALLY do want this shit off my main blog though i'm gonna start using a sideblog probably

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vytels · 8 months

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More dinluke, codywan time travel fic stuff

So, if you’ve read the fic so far, Din and Wolffe are vode. Plo took one look at Din and was like I’m adopting him lol

So basically, I’m just imagining how’d the two would interact in other things outside of the story

Like dealing with droids? They’re gleeful and bashing the shit out of them, they’re two feral dogs going to town on a piece of meat. You don’t wanna mess with them. They’re on a mission.

What’s the mission? Only they know.

Broken caf machine? Din’s trying to fix it (miserably failing) while Wolffe curses his own existence and spirals so deeply down the Mando’a curse word pipeline that he doesn’t remember Basic

Wolffe meets Grogu? Din’s a proud father while Wolffe can’t get over the fact it’s a tiny baby Yoda that’s actually really cute. He’s astounded and calls Grogu “little warrior”, probably tries to see if the eating-frogs thing is true or not

Wolffe totally would sick the Wolfpack on Din at any given notice. Just be like “here, baby sit these fools for me” or be like “this shiny needs brotherly attention, I’m busy, please give it to them”. Din would be okay with it, maybe a little annoyed, but he’s going to go full Mandalorian and teach them their “heritage” as best he can.

If they’re able to comm each other, it’s just insults back and forth with the occasional short conversation. Like:

Wolffe: sha’buir

Din: di’kut

Wolffe: Cody said you need to go to the bridge

Din: he can tell me himself

Wolffe: osi’kovid

Din: Cody told me that he wants you to know that he’s going to eat your socks

Wolffe: what? He did not

Din: you can’t prove he didn’t

Wolffe: sha’buir

Cody is so done with the two of them because Wolffe just boasts about Din in the command group chat and is about to throw them both out a window or something

Luke’s all for it, he wants his husband to have more friends that don’t actually wanna beat the shit out of him at any given moment

Anyways, link to the fic:

#star wars #clone wars #codywan #commander cody #dinluke #clone commander cody #luke skywalker #obi wan kenobi #din djarin #the mandalorian #commander wolffe #tcw wolffe #star wars wolffe #plo koon #212th attack battalion

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