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deadsetobsessions · 4 months

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Okay, so maybe Tim has no business being in Bludhaven. Tim maintains that since his parents fail at parenting, he can do whatever he wants.

Besides, it's for a good cause. Like, not letting Tarantula get her dirty hands on his big brother in another time line. Tarantula had popped up in the Bludhaven servers - by that, Tim means the endless amounts of threads and underground fronts for criminal activity that he stalks on a regular basis- by being seen with Nightwing. Tim had immediately booked a ride to Bludhaven and bought another burner. He'd try to take care of her himself, but if worse comes to worse, he'd call Deathstroke. He's totally aware of the weird tension Deathstroke has with Nightwing and Tim's kind of banking on that.

Dick's been back in Blud for two months now, Jason having assuaged his mother hen tendencies enough for Dick to get sick of the Manor. Tim hadn't meant to follow since he had plenty of projects to work on now that "SAVE JASON" wasn't blaring at the top of his head.

But then Tarantula appeared and Tim saw red, remembering the way Dick spoke about her and what she did to him.

He bids the driver goodbye. The driver doesn't question his being on his lonesome mainly because 1) Gothamites mind their own busines, 2) Tim gave him a $500 tip to make sure he remains a "good" Gothamite cabbie, and 3) Tim made sure he was dropped off in the swankiest, most ostentatious hotel Bludhaven had to offer.

"Rich people," the cab driver had muttered as Tim closed the door. Perfect.

Tim got his keycard, having checked in under Alvin Draper over the phone. Normally, they'd require an in person visit, but money talks. And people listened when Tim had a lot of things to say.

Tim even feels like he's trained enough to go out! Lady Shiva's training was ingrained into his memory, and Tim's built enough muscle to make use of some of it. He is still nine, after all. He's so much stealthier this time around. Plus, he's got almost his full tool set back. Sure, some of the tech is ancient, but he managed to finagle it to make grappling guns and smoke pellets more along the quality that he's used to.

Tim waits until nightfall, looping the surveillance around his window to mask his exit. Tim adjusts his domino, eyes scanning the city skyline as his handheld computer (god, he can't believe he has to invent wrist computers) tracked reports of Nightwing through Tweetings.

Ah. He's around Seventh. Tim grimaces as his untested joints adjusts to the grappling guns. His dark clothes make him hard to spot, to his advantage as he tracks down Nightwing.

Tim watches, perched on an adjacent roof as Nightwing takes down a crowd of goons with the flips Tim remembered watching from afar and up close in another timeline.

"Blockbuster'll kill everyone you love, Nightwing!"

Tim winces at the rather brutal crunch that followed, Nightwing having punched the guy and knocked him out in one move. He watches Dick sigh, tugging at his hair in stress.

Tim could... no, no. He shouldn't think of murder as a first option. Well, no, he shouldn't think of Deathstroke as a first option. But he'll need to take Blockbuster out before anything happens. And he needs to threaten the new Tarantula before anything happens. He won't allow her to even get close to Dick.

Maybe it's unfair to punish her for a crime she hasn't done, but unlike murder, rape can never be defended. Catalina Flores is a dead woman walking.

Tim stalks his big brother back home and then broke off to begin his short reign of terror over Bludhaven's underground. If he can't get Dick to take a break (and Tim's tried, a lot, over the years) then he'll make sure that the next month is as gentle as possible on his older brother.

Step 1. Murder Take care of Blockbuster

Step 2. Threaten Catalina Flores and her brother.

No. Wait. Tim has a better idea. He's got dirt on them, on top of the murder thing. He'll fabricate Catalina's tax returns, embezzle a shit ton of money from the IRS, and get her and her corrupt brother (because getting your sister out from murder charges is considered corrupt) arrested and locked away. And he'll make sure they stay locked away with some good old blackmail on Amanda Waller.

Tim grins, tranquilizing the building with an ungodly amount of knock out gas pellets, to riffle through the police precinct's files.

Step 2. Threaten Catalina Flores and her brother.

Step 2. Cripple Catalina Flores and her brother with blackmail and the IRS.

In three hours, Tim has everything he needs to begin a temporary hostile takeover. He's got the names of local mob bosses, the big players, and the names of practically every police officer that takes bribes and their... sponsors.

He'll have to cut off Blockbuster's lines of supplies first. Then, blacklist him from local suppliers, mobilize the police precinct against him (by imitating his M.O. perfectly- Tim's not a fucking amateur- and pretending to rob the precinct blind), and then break his knees.

Step 3. Profit

Tim takes out his shiny new burner phone, enjoying the loud sounds of the police squawking through his planted bugs. He lounges on the building next to it, keeping an eye out for Nightwing just in case the man decides to respond to the crisis.

[Unknown: It's RR.]

[Deathstroke: New phone?]

[RR: Who dis?]

[Deathstroke: What?]

[RR: Nevermind. I'll give you forty thousand to shoot someone's knees out.]

[Deathstroke:... That's it? Who?]

[RR: Blockbuster. Bludhaven. Extra twenty thousand if you tell him he's got the spine of a sea slug, kick him in the balls, and post it on Tweeting.]

[Deathstroke: What did he do to you? Deal.]

Tim ignored Deathstroke's question.

[RR: Half sent. Confirm?]

[Deathstroke: Confirmed. Timeline?]

[RR: Three weeks. 21 days.]

[Deathstroke: Confirmed.]

----

Tim grins ferally, all teeth as Catalina Flores looked on in horror at her computer screen.

"Get out of Bludhaven, and don't come back. If you even think of going near Nightwing, I will rip what's left of your pathetic, sniveling swine of a brother apart. You will not enjoy the consequences."

Tim clicks off, watching Catalina and her brother launch themselves into mad packing. He tapped out a short message to Amanda Waller for her and her team to intercept them at the state lines. They'll never get away from Tim's fury. Never.

[Waller: It's done.]

[Waller: I will find you.]

[RR: You can definitely try, Waller. Good doing business with you.]

Tim can see the blood vessel the woman popped after he sent that last message. He laughs.

He saves Deathstroke's video from Tweeting onto his actual, spoofed phone. He destroys the burner phone, less shiny now that he's dragged it through two and a half weeks of breaking heads and terrorizing the Bludhaven Underground. Nightwing hadn't even gotten a whiff of his activities, this Dick being far less experienced and known in this version of Blud.

One more week and Tim can continue his other projects.

----

Nightwing, going about his vigilante business: wow it sure is peaceful

Feral Tim Drake, Nightwing's scary dog privilege: try me, bitch

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hysteria-things · 29 days

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based off of this

(ALMOST) RUINED (part one)

part two coming soon…

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: at a party, you cannot not drink/smoke. at this particular one, you (almost) ruin the friendship with your best friend.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SUGGESTIVE, swearing, mentions drinking/smoking, making out

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 422

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: blurb(ish) part one but part two will be longer!

also if you requested something a while ago, i swear i’m getting to them😭

nick and chris' feet hurt as they run all over the giant house. the triplets got invited to an influencer party. you're friends with the host, so you went separately.

throughout the party, you guys smoked and drank, so the mature thing to do was to take ubers.

you're close with the sturniolo's, but it'll never get more than that. getting into a relationship with a friend can be tricky, but you don't like chris/matt that way anyway.

"have you seen matt and slash or y/n anywhere?" chris and nick ask in unison to yet another random person over the music. this feels like the millionth time they're asking somebody this question.

of course, the person shakes their head and murmurs a negative response.

sighing, they turn to a random hallway and gasp.

there you two are, making out and grasping onto each other. matt's tongue explores your mouth, your lips smacking sloppily against each other's. you guys moan and pant, grinding into one another. matt's hands travel to his belt, unbuckling it.

chris lets out a scream, a loud one, and points down the hallway. "they're doing it!"

"no, no, no, no." nick says frantically, his footsteps getting louder the closer he gets. however, you two are still going to town.

he grabs matt's shoulders. "no, fuck, no!"

he uses as much strength as he can to try to pull his brother off, but that only makes him grab your cheeks and kiss you harder. "matt, stop!"

he glances over to chris, who's standing there with his jaw on the floor. he rolls his eyes. "do you want to maybe help me?"

chris snaps back into reality and hustles to matt's other side.

"guys, this isn't the right thing to do!" nick panics, the two of them finally pulling matt off before he swallows you whole.

you reach your hands forward, pouting and stomping your feet like a toddler. "give him back!" you cry out.

nick ignores you and helps matt move over since he's stumbling all over the place. you slide down the wall and sit quietly.

"you cannot do that, okay?" he says calmly.

"but she's hot." matt slurs, eyes red and hooded as he stares at his sibling.

"i get that, but this can end horribly." nick lectures. "you guys are both drunk and high. it's just asking for a disaster."

matt sighs, practically falling asleep while standing. "let's get you guys home." nick states, chris helping you off the floor.

"and zip up your pants, matthew."

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @sturniolotriplettoplover @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @crazychrisl0v3r @maggieflms @strtuniolo @mutualsafe @riasturns @sturniolowhore @antpile00

#matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut

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theemporium · 7 months

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hiiiiiii

could you do a 🧸 fic with carlos (i know, again) with lando and oscar helping the reader and carlos take care of their little girl?? tysm!!!

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

“UNCLE LANDO! UNCLE OSCAR!”

“BABY PAPAYA!”

You pressed your lips together to hold in your giggles as your husband scoffed and rolled his eyes, relenting to the wiggling toddler in his arms as he let her down and allowed her to run straight towards the two men in orange who made their way towards the Ferrari motorhome.

You and Carlos were lucky enough that when you got pregnant a few years back, you had the support of most of the grid by your side. If Carlos couldn’t be by your side in the garages, one of the other drivers would. If you needed a little extra help standing up in the later months, one of them would be rushing to help you. When you went into labour, it was the drivers who kept your husband calm until he could get to you. They all supported you like a family, and it was something you were externally grateful for.

But nobody had been there the way the two McLaren boys were.

Lando was obviously ecstatic when he found out you and Carlos were expecting. He had been clinging onto your side, proudly rambling away about how excited he was to be a godfather (you hadn’t asked him but everyone knew it would be him). In turn, the Australian was lingering around too. Oscar was young and new, and Lando was the only person he felt comfortable around. And soon enough, he became quite close with you too during the pregnancy.

And now, three years later, your daughter was just as fond of the McLaren boys as they were with her.

“There’s my favourite little Sainz!” Lando grinned as he lifted Catalina up with ease, raising her above his head until she let out a giggle. “How’s my little princess today?”

“Good! I’m going with you and Uncle Oscar!” She grinned, all toothy and happy and childlike.

“Yeah, you are,” Oscar said, smiling when Catalina reached for him as he took her from Lando’s arms. “They are going on an icky date night and we are gonna have so much fun!”

“Ay,” Carlos frowned.

“He’s protective of his date nights,” you laughed, placing a hand on your husband’s arm to calm him down. “Are you two sure you’re okay with watching over her? It will only be a few hours—”

“It’s fine, mama, calm down,” Lando assured you with a soft laugh. “I can take care of my godchild.”

“She’s my daughter,” Carlos grumbled under his breath. He then lifted his head, his eyes narrowing on the Brit. “No McLaren merch.”

Lando pouted. “But she looks so cute in it!”

“My daughter only wears red,” Carlos stated, only to let out a sigh when he watched his daughter reach for the bright orange cap on Oscar’s head. “Dios mio.”

You laughed, shaking your head at your husband’s antics. “Thank you, boys. We owe you one.”

“Nah, it’s a pleasure to take care of this little rascal,” Oscar said with a grin as Catalina reached to playfully poke his cheeks.

“We might never give her back!” Lando teased before pushing you both towards the paddock entrance. “Have fun at date night!”

“I want my daughter back, Norris!”

“Not a chance!”

#cece’s slumblurb party #carlos sainz #formula one #f1 #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

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celaenaeiln · 8 months

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It’s wild that Bruce will forgive any crime Dick commits as long as he comes back to him.

Like killing the joker? Fine.

Being unable to save people? Fine.

Torturing someone? Fine.

When Dick admits to having stepped aside when Catalina killed Blockbuster, Bruce is just like-are you kidding me? I don’t give a damn about Blockbuster. All I want is for you to be okay. You’re what’s important.

But then on the flip side he’ll flip his shit if Dick doesn’t want to obey Bruce. He’ll punch him for not wanting to join spyral and play mind games (that Dick is sick and tired of) to get him to do his bidding. So basically what he’s implying is that it’s perfectly okay for Dick to do whatever he wants, cross any amount lines, as long as he comes back to Bruce in the end.

That’s fucked up.

#dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #batman #someone please tell me if I’m reading this right #cl anon asks

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 10 months

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Comet Donati [Chapter 1: History]

Series Summary: Sex, drugs, boy bands. You are a kinda-therapist recruited (via nepotism) to help Comet Donati through a recent crisis. Things are casual with Aegon, very not-casual with Aemond. Loosely inspired by One Direction.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (18+) and drugs, alcohol, smoking, astronomy, mental health struggles, Missouri.

Selected Chapter Quote: “You’re gonna love Aemond. He’s so fucked up. He’s like Disney World for therapists.”

Word count: 4.1k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

* * * I’m going to tag like a bazillion people since this is the first chapter of a new fic, but I WILL NOT TAG YOU AGAIN unless you ask me to. I hope you are all doing well, wherever you are in the world. 🥰😘 * * *

@borikenlove @myspotofcraziness @teenagecriminalmastermind @quartzs-posts @tclegane @poohxlove @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @chainsawsangel @itsabby15 @padfooteyes @arcielee @travelingmypassion @what-is-originality @burningcoffeetimetravel @randomdragonfires @aemcndtargaryen @jvpit3rs @sarcastic-halfling-princess @flowerpotmage @ladylannisterxo @thelittleswanao3 @libroparaiso @tinykryptonitewerewolf @girlwith-thepearlearring @minttea07 @trifoliumviridi @deltamoon666 @mariahossain @darkenchantress @doingfondue @atherverybest @namelesslosers @skythighs @moonlightfoxx @partypoison00 @bellameshipper @coffedraven @greenowlfactif @catalina-howard @babyblue711 @marvelescvpe @heimtathurs @ammo23

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters! 💜

“You are a professional,” you tell your reflection threateningly, like it owes you money. Your hair is painstakingly tidy, your makeup neat, subdued, businesslike. You are wearing a black blazer, a white blouse, and Cookie Monster pajama pants. You are in your one-bedroom apartment in Kansas City, Missouri: grey, thunderous, humid as hell, June raindrops on the windows. “You have a master’s degree and hundreds of clinical hours and you are not afraid of clients. Not at all! Not even a little bit!”

You check your phone. 2:55 p.m.

“Oh God,” you whine to the checkered tiles of the bathroom floor, to the floral wallpaper. You clutch the cold porcelain of the sink: rose-pink, 1950s, diners and Thunderbirds, housewives and Valium. “Oh my God. Oh my God. I can’t do this. Oh my God.”

But there is no escape! You hurry, sweating profusely, to your laptop. You start the Zoom meeting and wait for your client to arrive, chewing your thumbnail until it bleeds, a scarlet semicircle of dull warm pain, a crescent moon like spilled merlot. You glance at your notepad again. David Mills, 25, married, anxiety upon relocating to a new city and beginning employment there.

Wait.

You confirm with a quick Google search in a new tab. David Mills was the protagonist in Se7en.

You sit back in your swivel chair, eyes narrowed with suspicion. The blue-white luminance of the screen glows on your face like moonlight. Your client is either a coincidence or a liar.

So what? People lie. People lie about therapy especially. So he wants some anonymity. Big deal.

“Strange,” you murmur to yourself.

You have no further opportunity to mull it over. A gratingly cheerful ding announces your client’s arrival in the Zoom meeting waiting room. No avatar, name still listed as David Mills.

“Okay. Okay. It’s fine. Here we go.”

You shake the tremors out of your hands and admit him. He pops onto the screen like a bloom of ironweed, like fireworks on the Fourth of July. It’s nighttime wherever he is. The background is dark and indistinct, shadowy; lamplight cascades across his face, topaz and fool’s gold. You are startled to realize that you already know him. And his name is definitely not David Mills.

“…Aegon?!”

He grins, sly and cocky but never cruel. “Hey.”

“Aegon Targaryen??!!”

“That’s me!” he concurs brightly. “What’s up, Stargirl?”

And instantly, you are transported back to almost exactly one year ago: a rooftop bar downtown, neon signs coiled in shades of violet and rhodonite and sapphire, night wind, constellations, ice clinking in misty glasses, locks of his hair skating between your fingers, the sting of his teeth on your throat, the Weeknd. “Hey,” you say softly. And then again, with more enthusiasm: “Hey! I saw you on Good Morning America last week!”

“Yeah? Was I good?”

“Jace was good. You were slightly offkey.”

“Aw shit. I usually am.”

“That’s okay. You’re the hot loser, right? That’s your character?”

“That’s me, baby. That’s why it works so well.”

It’s impossible: time has passed, thousands of miles have opened up between you, and yet it’s like he’s right here in the room, he never arrived, he never left, he’s always been here for life to grow up around like the framework of a house, a trellis, a skeleton. “How did you find me?”

“I couldn’t remember your name, but I figured you must have finished school by now. So I Googled therapists in Kansas City. Do you know how many there are?”

“500,” you guess.

“712,” Aegon says. “At least, that’s how many I scrolled through before I found your photo.”

“Wow.” You’re smiling; you can’t take your eyes off him. A lot of girls have that problem. That’s why he’s worth $100 million. “Couldn’t remember my name, huh? I guess I didn’t make much of an impression.”

He chuckles, a little bashfully, sweeping his blond hair off his face. “No. No, you definitely made an impression.”

So did he. In the downstairs bathroom of the bar, tucked beneath a staircase, stark white florescent lights and red walls, lip biting and ripped seams on your dress. He’d finished in approximately thirty seconds—which, oddly, felt more like a compliment than anything else—and then promptly snapped off the condom, dropped to his knees, and went down on you until you came not once but twice, a rarity for you. But that wasn’t the best part. Afterwards you’d gone back up to the roof together, sat in a quiet corner booth until the bar closed, talked about anything and everything with your bodies folded unconsciously into each other, origami, blended watercolors, whispers and murmurs, your palm on his thigh, his fingertips ghosting the underside of your wrist.

“So,” Aegon says through the laptop screen. “Are you, like, kind of unemployed currently?”

“No,” you reply, palpably defensive. Embarrassing! “I’m clearly working right now. You literally made a virtual appointment with me. I’m just…getting my practice off the ground.”

“Yeah but you seem lowkey unemployed.”

“You are so fucking rude.” But you’re laughing.

“I’m just saying, you had a lot of appointment times available. A lot.”

“I’m recruiting clients!” you exclaim. “I’m not like you. I can’t simulate sex with microphone stands to sell tickets.”

“That was one time!”

You smirk at him, eyebrows raised.

“That was…four times. That I recall.”

“I’m a professional. A serious, grown-up, certified professional.”

“You’re a glorified hobo, admit it.”

“You’re a dollar store Harry Styles.”

“Fuck,” he sighs, clutching his chest. “Okay you win.”

“Why did you do this? Why did you track me down in order to make some fraudulent therapy appointment?”

Now Aegon is something you’ve never seen from him before. He’s nervous. “I, uh…I need your help.”

“Really?”

“Well, not me specifically,” he amends. “We need your help. Comet does.”

Comet. What he means—what screaming fans all over the world mean when they drop this name in Reddit threads or Twitter hashtags or Tumblr gifsets—is the boy band Comet Donati. Three albums, five members: Aegon, Jace, Luke, Cregan, Daeron. The lineup has changed recently. Everyone knows why. “Help with what?”

“I mean…I’m sure you heard about what happened.”

“Yeah,” you say, somber now. Six months ago a piece of rigging collapsed during soundcheck at the Nippon Budokan in Tokyo. It hit Aemond, costing him six inches of flesh on the left side of his face, his sight in one eye, and his position as the undisputed, archetypal fearless leader of Comet. The celebrity gossip sites had reported that he was taking time off to recover, and then that his younger brother Daeron would be filling in for him at a few shows, and then suddenly Daeron was the fifth member of the band, and everyone was so charmed by his distinctly buoyant, sunshine-and-rainbows quality that Aemond faded from the discourse almost entirely, a ghost, a phantom, an antiquated word like telegraph or courtship or laudanum.

“So things are different now,” Aegon continues. “Things are…not always easy. And I think it might be a good idea to have you around.”

“Look, I’m not…like…” How can you put this? It’s something you have difficulty admitting out loud. “I’m not a real therapist, you know? You’re right, Aegon. I’m basically unemployed. I’m fresh out of my master’s program, I don’t have anywhere near the kind of experience that someone would need to adequately help Comet. So, maybe I could recommend some people to you, but other than that I don’t think I can—”

“It has to be you,” Aegon says.

You shake your head, gazing through the screen at him, through the space and the time. “Why?”

“When Comet performed in Kansas City…when we met at the bar that night…” He is hushed, meditative. “I don’t really remember what we talked about. But I remember exactly how you made me feel.” He smiles, the sort of smile you didn’t know he had in him: soft, pure, nostalgic, without edges. “I think Aemond could use some of that.”

The walls fall down around you, this apartment, this city, this life. “Where are you right now?”

“Capri.”

“Where?”

“Capri,” he says again, amused. “But we’ll be in Rome tomorrow. You can meet us there.”

“In Rome,” you repeat, like it’s Mars or one of Jupiter’s moons.

“Catch the next flight out. The band can reimburse you. We’ll get you a contract of some sort. Nothing too long-term, so you won’t be locked in or anything. A few months. Then we can reassess.”

“Okay, but…I don’t feel comfortable serving as an official therapist to you or anyone else in Comet, Aegon. The circumstances are less than orthodox. And not just because of the…um…bar bathroom situation.”

“Fine, whatever.” He’s high on the victory; the details don’t matter so much.

“Okay,” you say. And then again, giggling wildly at the ludicrousness of it all: “Okay! I guess I’ll see you in Rome tomorrow!”

“Cool. Let me give you my WhatsApp.” You exchange information, and then he grins at you, crafty and radiant through the screen. “You’re gonna love Aemond. He’s so fucked up. He’s like Disney World for therapists.”

“We’ll see,” you reply distractedly, already opening Expedia in a new tab.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Midwest, the East Coast, the Atlantic Ocean, the Mediterranean Sea, Southern Europe, green to blue and then green again as the plane descends into the Leonardo da Vinci Airport of Rome. You roll your single carry-on bag through the corridors, peering out the windows at cloudless cerulean skies and towering stone pines. Aegon meets you at the bottom of an escalator. He’s wearing cargo shorts, a neon green tank top, and matching Crocs. He’s slightly chubbier than you remember, just as beautiful, just as chaotically charismatic, the sun made flesh. He’s standing with a man you don’t recognize.

“Benvenuta, bella!” Aegon proclaims, nearly tackling you with a hug before taking your bag. He smells like beer, sunscreen, Axe body spray, summer air that unfurls warm and golden in the lungs.

“Oh, thank God,” the other man—possibly Italian, definitely gorgeous—exhales with great relief. “Aegon said he needed to meet someone at the airport and I was 90% sure that you would be a drug dealer. But you do not look like a drug dealer. You’re not a…are you a…?”

“No, I’m definitely not a drug dealer.”

“Okay. Great. Hello.” He extends a hand, tan and muscley. “I’m Criston, I’m the tour manager. It is my job to keep everyone alive and uninjured.”

“Four out of five isn’t bad,” Aegon says. And then, when Criston is clearly distressed by it: “Uh, anyway, there’s an Escalade waiting outside.”

The SUV is massive and black with tinted windows. As you follow Aegon into the backseat, several paparazzi appear on the sidewalk and begin snapping photos, calling out to you and expelling rapid-fire white flashes like lightning. Aegon ignores them. You’ve been travelling all day, and the sun is setting now in Rome. The sky is the color of embers, autumn leaves, Saturn. Criston climbs into the passenger seat and gives instructions to the driver. The Escalade wheels out of Arrivals, paparazzi sprinting down the sidewalk after it to take a few final pictures.

“So,” Aegon says, smiling. He pops open the mini fridge and hands you an ice-cold can of San Pellegrino. “Do you have a boyfriend back in Kansas? Or, maybe, boyfriends?”

“Missouri,” you correct him automatically. “And no. None worth mentioning.” A guy you’ve had lunch with twice, a guy you made out with at an Olive Garden, a guy you hooked up with back at UChicago who you’re still texting, guys who flit in and out of your mind like birds through the sky, impermanent, inconsequential.

“You still on the pill?”

“Yes.” You’re not offended. Aegon is teasing, and so are you. It occurs to you that talking to Aegon is a bit like talking to yourself; there are no awkward lulls, and he rarely says anything that shocks you. “But that’s not why I came to Rome.”

“That’s fine. That’s not why I invited you.”

As the Escalade zooms by iconic landmarks—the Spanish Steps, the Pantheon, the Piazza del Popolo—you ask Aegon about them. He has no idea; he makes things up instead.

“That’s the duck waterpark,” he says as you pass a fountain that’s over 1,000 years old. Then he points to a naked statue of an extremely buff Mercury. “That’s me before I started eating carbs again.” His only snippet of accurate trivia comes as you drive by the twilight-lit Colosseum. “Holy shit, that’s where Taylor Swift made out with Tom Hiddleston!”

“Surely more important things have happened there at some point in the past two millennia.”

“I doubt it,” Aegon replies, frowning out the Escalade window, taciturn. “I wish I got to make out with Taylor Swift in the Colosseum.”

Comet Donati is staying at the Anantara Palazzo Naiadi Rome Hotel, which closely resembles a palace. When the Escalade stops at the front doors, you drag your luggage out onto the cobblestones.

“No no no,” Criston says, grabbing the rolling suitcase from you. He gives it to a white-gloved butler along with a room number and then escorts you and Aegon to the top floor. It’s not until the three of you are in the elevator that you realize you are still wearing your highly unsophisticated travel-day attire: yoga pants, flip flops, a tie-dye hoodie with Louis Tomlinson’s face on it that you purchased from Etsy last winter. Aegon catches you scrutinizing your reflection in the mirrors that line the inside of the elevator.

“Traitor,” he says with a grin, massaging your shoulders. His eyes lock with yours in the mirror. His touch is—just as it was a year ago at that bar in Kansas City when you were home from school on break and he was a transient visitor, fleeting like a rainstorm—familiar somehow, pleasant and comforting but not profound, welcome without being necessary.

“Don’t hate him ‘cause you ain’t him. When was the last time you wrote a #1 hit single?”

“Never,” Aegon readily admits. “Although I got into the Top 5 in Norway once.” No, everyone knows that Aemond was Comet’s Louis Tomlinson: their best songwriter, their relatively unproblematic and grounded team captain, their protector, their compass. And now he has no official place in the band at all.

When the elevator doors open, Criston leads you and Aegon down the hallway to a bustling suite. Inside there are white leather couches and gold-colored lounge chairs, a bar, a staircase that leads up to the loft bedroom, people wandering in and out of air that is hazy with whispers and cigarette smoke. There are men in suits, women in short tight dresses, leather and velvet and sequins. You are woefully underdressed. Fortunately, so is Aegon. He is greeted with a dizzying array of cheers, waves, and toasts. Someone shoves an emerald green bottle of Peroni into his grasp. Kesha’s Your Love Is My Drug is vibrating through the speakers mounted on the wall: “What you’ve got, boy, is hard to find, I think about it all the time…”

“Hey, hey, listen up!” Aegon shouts, stepping on top of an ottoman, and the chatter lowers in volume like a radio being turned down.

You scan the smokey room until you’ve located all five current Comet Donati members: Aegon the disaster playboy, Luke the sensitive and kindhearted one, Daeron the energetic ray of sunshine, Jace the heir apparent in the power vacuum created by Aemond’s departure, Cregan the brooding, mysterious, sexy Northern Englishman. You know them, and yet you don’t. You know the characters they play, their reputations, their public personas…but that doesn’t mean you know them. Aegon is the only man you spoke to at the rooftop bar that night in Kansas City a year ago. So far, the mythical version of him seems quite consistent with reality.

Cregan is slumped at one end of the couch by the window and knocking back shots of what appears to be straight vodka. In the night sky beyond the glass, you can see stars and the illuminated Rome skyline: modern skyscrapers, ancient rubble. At the other end of the couch is Aemond. He’s smoking, drinking something iced and bloody pink, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, all in black like he’s trying to disappear. His left eye, the blind one, is an ethereal cloudy blue that reminds you of renderings you’ve seen of Neptune, Uranus, exoplanets, the Earth from space. He glances up at you and holds your gaze for just a few seconds too long. Then he looks away, bewildered, taking a drag off his cigarette.

Aegon introduces you to the room as you stand beside the ottoman, awkward and ashamed in your Louis Tomlinson hoodie. “She’s a friend,” Aegon says. “And she’s also a therapist.”

“Good, you need one!” Jace shouts through cupped hands, and there are tipsy titters and guffaws.

“Not for me,” Aegon snaps. “For you deranged bitches.”

As Aegon descends from the ottoman—klutzily, stumbling, clutching onto Criston like a baby lemur to its mother—Luke approaches to present himself. He has a mess of dark curly hair that falls over his face and large, honest eyes. There’s a black spiral notebook and a white gel pen in his left hand. He offers you his right. “Hi! I’m Luke Velaryon.”

“Yeah, I know. I spend a lot of time on Comet’s Spotify page.”

He groans. “I look so bad in that header photo.”

“I don’t think so.”

“It’s the nose. I have a pug nose. The label has been trying to convince me to get it fixed for years.” He turns to a girl who is practically hiding behind him: arrestingly beautiful in a fragile sort of way, gentle like a doe. “Maybe you can help Rhaena talk to people.”

“I have social anxiety,” she explains apologetically. Her voice is very quiet yet lyrical. There are weights tied to her confession, years of shame and despair. Luke throws an arm across her shoulders and hugs her to him, touching his forehead briefly to hers.

“That’s okay.” You give Rhaena a reassuring smile. “It’s super common, and there are a lot of strategies you can try that might make it more manageable.”

“It wasn’t a big deal at first, you know?” Rhaena says. It comes out in a rush like water through a cracked dam. Luke looks astonished but pleased. You have been known to have this effect upon people, a compulsive sort of disclosure that drains, empties, unburdens. Aegon is watching from several feet away, beaming between swigs of Peroni. “Luke and I met before he got famous and we could just hang out around the neighborhood. Ice cream, public parks, Pret a Manger, riding the Tube together. But now…now he’s always meeting new people and there are all these events I’m supposed to go to with him, and I can’t sleep properly for days leading up to each one, and half the time I end up hiding in the bathroom or being too nauseous to eat anything, and…”

Jace is at the bar and slurping a vesper: shoulder-length curls, flashy blazer with nothing underneath it, a contemplative appraisal of you. There’s a stunning girl sitting beside him that he’s not listening to.

As you are explaining the potential benefits of exposure therapy to Rhaena and Luke, Daeron bursts through the crowd to greet you. He’s their Niall Horan: warm, uncomplicated, disarmingly friendly, beachy blond hair, a golden retriever on two legs. He hugs you—spiritedly, like Aegon did—and then compliments your flip flops.

“So you’re our new therapist?” Daeron says eagerly, like this is something he knows they’ve needed.

“Well, I’m a therapist, but I’m not really your therapist. Because I can’t hang out with you guys all the time and also be your therapist. It’s unethical. But Aegon thought I might have some good ideas, I guess. In a strictly unofficial capacity.”

“Okay! Cool! And you and Aegon are…friends?”

“Um…yeah. Sort of.”

“Remember that show in Kansas City last summer?” Aegon tells Daeron. He’s supernaturally gifted at making everything sound blissfully casual, like there couldn’t possibly be more to the story. “I met her at the bar we went to afterwards.”

“Totally,” Daeron says. “Great city. Awesome barbeque.”

Criston asks him: “So, uh, how’s your mom doing?”

Daeron is puzzled. “Fine…?”

“Criston, please stop asking about my mom,” Aegon says. “It’s getting weird. It’s been weird. It was weird four years ago and it’s weird now. She has a husband.”

“Yeah, but is that…you know…is that still going well?”

“Yes, Criston.”

“Fantastic,” Criston mutters, pouring himself a Scotch. He uses the glass to gesture to you. “So what the hell am I supposed to bill her as? Aegon’s friend?”

“She’s a…” Aegon considers this, waving his Peroni around in the air. “Human resources mental health consultant.”

“She’s a what?”

“She helps resolve both intra and interpersonal conflict.”

“That sounds imaginary.”

“Well then you figure something out!” Aegon says, exasperated. “Isn’t this what you get paid for? To make problems go away? To keep us happy? To stop us from killing each other? You figure it out.” He saunters off to grace the drunken masses with his presence. Criston sighs and goes to stand by the wall with a herd of stone-faced businessmen in suits, record label guys, guys who only know how to see the world in terms of contract clauses and account balances.

Rhaena goes to stand by Jace’s companion, who—as you conjure up vague recollections of celebrity gossip sites—is named something like Bella or Bailey. Daeron is commandeered by a gaggle of adoring Italian women. Luke is showing Aemond something in his notebook: black pages, sparkly white ink. Aemond is nodding and giving critique, not that saccharine, generic, brainless kind of praise but authentic encouragement: try to think of a more specific word here, move that line up to the first verse, I love the use of this metaphor. Aemond’s voice dredges up memories you didn’t know you had of him on talk shows, in YouTube compilations, in songs you’ve been streaming on Spotify for years. Smoke drifts from his lips. Ice jangles in his organ-pink cocktail. And again, he looks up at you, inhaling poison as Luke makes his opal-ink edits.

“What’s that drink called?” you ask the bartender, and he squints across the room to where Aemond is seated on the snow-colored leather couch to discern it.

“A Bramble,” he says. “It’s named after blackberry bushes.”

“Can I get one?”

“Sure.”

You procure your drink and when Luke leaves the couch, you whizz past him like a meteor as you walk towards it.

“Hey,” Cregan flings impassively, not knowing why you’re here, not caring either.

“Hey,” you return.

And then you sit down next to Aemond, deliberately on his blind side. He glances over at you, his brow crinkling with confusion. Because—surely, undoubtedly—no one ever speaks about his injury, but it’s veined through everything they do, it’s a perpetual undercurrent that steers his life and yet cannot be voiced without breaching those vigilantly constructed levees of propriety. It’s the elephant in every room. It’s a ghost rattling doorknobs and tapping on windows. And sometimes the only way to free yourself of something is to throw the cage door wide open and set it loose.

“I accidentally wore your competitor’s merch,” you say. “I didn’t want you to have a good view.”

Aemond laughs, and the strangest thing happens: everyone in the room turns to look. On their faces are expressions of shock, bafflement, relief, wonder. Aemond shifts so he’s facing you, one elbow propped on the back of the couch. He sips the Bramble in his right hand, puffs on the cigarette in his left. And there it is, what people like to call a spark, but it’s something deeper than that: organic chemistry, neurotransmitter plumes, wells of marrow that sing to each other from beneath the darkness.

You nod to his cigarette, Benson & Hedges according to the shimmery gold pack that lays open on the glass coffee table. “You think that makes you cool?”

“I know it does,” he says. His gaze flicks down to your Louis Tomlinson hoodie…or what’s under it, perhaps. “Wouldn’t work on you though. Too far gone.”

You hold out your hand. After a few seconds, Aemond passes you his cigarette. You—very stoically, very nonchalantly—take a single drag and then erupt into a coughing fit, eyes watering, lungs gasping, surrendering the cigarette emphatically. Humiliating! Irredeemable!

“Told you,” Aemond notes. But he’s rubbing your back with a hand that is large and strong and yet careful. You smile at him. Aemond smiles too.

Criston pulls one of the suit guys aside and says: “Get her on the payroll.”

#aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x you #aegon targaryen ii #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegon x you #aegon x y/n #hotd fanfic #hotd

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eldritch-spouse · 2 days

Note

Is grimbly comically strong, like will he beat up a guy 10x his Suze begire crying to mommy that he chipped his nail

Absolutely, yes. It's been talked about too.

Grimbly is the illegitimate son of Rinx, and although his mother was non-demonic, she was a bat monster. Now, being a demonlord's offspring already lends you a stupid amount of power, but something more peculiar happened.

Sometimes, crossing demons with certain monster types will activate some rare genes or produce a few curious effects, and in the case of bat monsters, crossing them with demons causes their ears to possibly become horns, their limbs to sharpen, and it activates vampirism genes that are now considered uncommon in most bat-monster species. Catalina is not vampiric at all.

Grimbly didn't just get hired because he was a cute face, he got hired because Krulu recognizes the potential of keeping a demonlord's son handy. Not just because Grimbly can one day be used as a political pawn in the game of infernal dominance, but also because the poor idiot doesn't understand the full spectrum of his power and what he could become if he cared to hone his inherited gifts.

In regards to you, Grimbly doesn't like to look self-sufficient at all. He's a very crafty and resourceful monster, but he wants you specifically to perceive him as inept, pitiful and always to be accompanied. Grimbly will give you jars to open, he'll pretend he doesn't know how to play certain games, he'd rather cry for your assistance than fetch a stool to grab a plate. But when a threat you definitely can't handle shows up, he's forced to drop that act and display just how capable he is.

This angers Grimbly immensely because it breaks immersion in the lie he's constantly weaving, it opens your eyes, and he loathes whoever makes it necessary. Although he can very easily dispatch a good number of monsters, he may let himself get superficially wounded to pretend he struggled. There could be three corpses in front of you, but Grimbly has a booboo on his thumb and he needs you to kiss it, okay?

#Grimbly oc #Grimbly: uwu I'm a smol bean and I need you to do everything... ((sees a huge monster walking your way)) god fucking damn it-

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wa-royal-tea · 1 month

Text

Previous | Beginning | Next

(Transcript under the cut - Click Pics for HQ Version!)

@thebrixtons

Author’s Note: The story Alfie is reading to the children is loosely inspired by the Malay Folklore; Legend of Puteri Gunung Ledang

Ginny (on the phone): Can we add fairy lights around the dance platform? Maybe some canopy curtains too?

Catalina: What colour do you want it to be in?

Ginny: Maybe white? Or do you have any other suggestions?

Indirah: I think white is good. Maybe we can hang the fairy lights on the curtains too.

Ginny: Ooh~ Good idea!

Catalina: Alright, do you have any other decorations you want to add?

Ginny: Well, I do have something in mind…

*knock knock*

Rainier (from outside the room): Ginny? Are you in there?

Ginny: Yeah! Don’t come in!

Rainier: Why? What are you doing in there?

Ginny: I’m working on my dress. You can’t see it yet!

Rainier: *chuckles* Okay~ I made strawberry cheesecake for tea time. Come and eat with me when you’re done~

Ginny: Alright. Give me a minute!

Ginny *thinking*: Hmm the wedding dress is almost done. All that is left are the bridesmaid's dresses.

*phone rings*

Alfie: Don’t pick it up.

Catalina: *breathless* It’s Ginny’s ringtone. I think she wants to talk about the wedding preparation.

Alfie: Urgh, cockblocker.

Catalina: *giggles*

Catalina: Hey, Ginny. What’s up?

Catalina: Mhm, I see…

Catalina: Oh, I think I already— *gasps*

Catalina: Wh-what are you doing?

Alfie: Don’t mind me. Continue the call.

Catalina: Alfie— Sorry, Ginny. Can you repeat that?

Catalina: *voice shaking* Y-yeah. I think red is nice.

Catalina: *gasps* I-I’m fine. I…I accidentally dropped something.

Catalina: *breathless* It’s getting late here. C-can we continue the call tomorrow? Yeah, okay bye.

Alfie: *playfully* Done already? I was just getting started.

Catalina: You are in a big trouble, Mr. Frederick.

Alfie: Ooh~ I’m so scared.

Catalina: You’re not sleeping tonight until I’m done with you.

Alfie: Is that a threat, Mrs. Frederick?

Catalina: *scoffs* It’s a promise.

Indirah: Wow, you ordered more than usual. Are you getting the cinnamon roll for Alfie?

Catalina: Huh? This? Nope. They’re mine!

Indirah: Whoa, you must be very hungry. I thought you hate those?

Catalina: I just want to give it a try. They’re not too bad!

Indirah: *chuckles* I’m glad you’re enjoying them then.

[Scene transitions to Lina and Alfie going on an engagement, maybe cutting ribbons for the opening of the children’s library? Alfie reads a book for the children.]

Alfie:…the King fell in love with the Princess after seeing her beauty and asks for her hand in marriage. But the Princess has set several conditions for him before she can agree to his proposal.

Ali: What are the conditions?

Hanna: Yeah! Tell us, Mr. Prince!

Alfie: The Princess’ conditions are; the King must build a golden palace for her to live in and a golden bridge all the way from Mount Belcoast to Mount Silvie for her to walk to and from. She then would also want seven barrels of tears from a young maiden for her to bathe in. And a bowl of the blood of the King’s young heir.

Hope: Whoa! That sounds crazy impossible!

Ali: Right? Why would she give him all that conditions?

Catalina: Well, that’s actually her way of subtly telling him that she doesn’t want to marry him.

Alfie: Exactly. And in the end, the King got the hint and returned to his Kingdom. He’d rather not sacrifice his child just to marry someone.

Hanna: Wah~ The King is a good dad! Just like my appa!

Hope: Tell us more stories, please!

Catalina: You’re going to be a great dad one day, Alfie.

Alfie: Why’d you say that?

Catalina: You’re good with kids. And I know you’re going to be great to our kids.

Catalina: It’s just like a dream I had. You and the children, asleep on the bed after you read them bedtime stories.

Catalina: Just remembering that dream again makes me so happy.

Ginny: *content sigh* This feels like a dream. Everything feels so perfect.

Rainier: Well, if it is. I don’t want to wake up.

Ginny: I can’t wait for our wedding. It’s going to be perfect.

Rainier: I know. I can’t wait too. We’ve waited so long for this.

Ginny: You make me so happy. I don’t deserve you.

Rainier: You do. You deserve everything good in this world.

Rainier: And I’ll continue to make you happy. Until we’re old and grey.

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v1ct0la · 5 months

Text

kindergarten - abby tlou2 x reader oneshot [SFW]

Months after landing on Catalina island with Abby and Lev, many of those months spent recovering from your injuries (both mental and physical), you decide to volunteer at the fireflies’ kindergarten. When Abby visits you one afternoon while you’re teaching, you and the kids force her to join in your game of hopscotch…

SFW oneshot

1,719 words (I GOT CARRIED AWAY HAHA SORRY)

TLOU2 au, set on Catalina island after the events of TLOU2

Inspired by the WLF school and someone who headcannoned Abby playing hopscotch (I can’t remember whose blog it was so if you know please tell me so I can tag them!!!)

TWs: description of injuries in the beginning 2 paragraphs - other than that, just pure joy, love, and peace 😊

let me know about any mistakes!

After you, Abby, and Lev reached the island in the spluttering boat, the three of you collapsed onto the rickety Catalina boardwalk. Blood gushed from the stab wound in your side, mixing with the salty brine of the ocean, running in rivulets down to where it dripped off your fingers and splattered onto the wood. You spat the rusty taste of old blood from your mouth, struggling against the pain, and hauled yourself to your knees. Your wound pounded, and you shot your hand up to clamp it down in an attempt to stop the bleeding after your sudden movements. You looked up at Abby, who already was on her feet and staggering to pick up Lev’s limp form.

You stood, swayed with lightheadedness from loss of blood, and stumbled towards the pair. Abby heaved Lev into her arms and started shouting for help, causing the boy to stir through his unconsciousness. After her repeated calls, other voices stirred and began to ring out, but the blood pounding in your ears, muffled it. You couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, could only hope they would help. Heavy footsteps made the boardwalk beneath you shudder and before you properly registered them, the ground beneath you suddenly felt much too far away.

Your vision swam, your legs buckled, and as you collapsed onto the ground, you heard Abby shriek your name. All you could feel was hands grabbing onto you before you sank into the inky black of unconsciousness.

* * *

Sunrays filtered through the grimy windows, throwing the cozy classroom into a glittering spectacle of glowing afternoon light. It had been almost a year since you escaped the violence of Santa Barbara, months you had spent recovering with Abby and Lev at your side. Most recently, however, you had asked to take up the position of teacher at the island’s kindergarten. It was a little classroom of about 15 young kids that you absolutely loved. Before you met Lev, you didn’t really like kids - found them sticky and loud. But they had grown on you, always little faces beaming with joy and curiosity, despite the state of the world.

Today had been as fun as always, albeit long. You had been teaching the kids about various marine animals, and presently, were showing them old images of spotted seals.

“Okay, now, who call tell me where to find spotted seals?” You asked the children.

A chubby little hand shot up, and you called on the little girl to answer.

“Spacific Ocean!” She shouts, and you giggle.

“Pacific Ocean,” you say to her, “but yes, good job!”

You hear a knock on the door, and you look up to check the clock. It was nearly 2pm, which meant it was time for a break. You smile at the other teacher through the door’s glass, nodding to let him know you’d take the kids out.

“Alright goobers, it’s break time,” You call out over their little voices, “everyone, line up by the door, double file!”

Outside in the warm sunlight, you guided the children over to the playground. Once you gave them the go-ahead, they all scattered, splitting off to play their little hearts out. You stood off to the side in the shade with your hands propped on your hips, surveying. A cool breeze rustled through the foliage, and you were grateful for the relief it brought you.

A tug on your pants caught your attention, and you looked down. The girl from before, Natalie, was staring up at you with big brown eyes. “Play hopscotch with us pleeeeease?” She asked. You grin at her cuteness and agreed. She grabbed your hand and dragged you off to the chalked concrete where a few other kids were already hopping along.

It was your turn. Little Natalie clapped and cheered loudly as you jumped forwards and into each square. As you got to the other end, you held your hands out in triumph, and the kids all laughed with you.

“Reigning champion, are we?” You spun around at the sound of her voice, face already breaking out into a grin.

Abby stood a few feet in front of you, arms crossed. “How long have you been standing there?” You asked, stepping towards her. A sheepish smile and warmth spread across your features in slight embarrassment at yourself.

“Only long enough to watch your turn” Abby smirked, uncrossing her arms to pull you into a tight embrace. Her chin nestled into the crook of your neck and your breathed in the comforting scent of pine that clung to her short braid.

You missed her long hair, but after Santa Barbara, she was still growing it out again. It sat just beneath her collarbone, and you thought it was perfectly endearing, even though she still opted to have it pulled away in a tight braid.

“How was your day?” She asked softly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

You pulled back to reply when you were cut off with the shouting off the kids behind you. You turned to them.

“Miss y/n! It’s your turn again!” one of them whined, and you looked back at Abby with an eyeroll. She untangled herself from your embrace and pushed you away gently.

“Go,” she smirked, “I’ll be right here, watching you.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” you reply, a grin spreading across your face. Her brows furrowed, and you grabbed her wrist before she could realise what you meant. You spun on your heel, dragging Abby with you.

“No- I’m not- y/n!” Abby protested, trying to pull herself free, but you were on a roll.

“Oh yes!” You say in a sing-song, “it’s your turn.”

You pulled her forward and pushed her towards the starting square. The little kids had all gathered around the two of you to watch. “Look, it’s Abby’s turn! Look!” a little boy shouted out, much to Abby’s dismay.

She looked back at you with an exasperated, making your laughter ring out across the playground. “C’mon Abs! Show us what you can do,” you giggle as you speak, egging her on.

She takes a tentative jump forwards, and you clap along with your students. She jumps again, and again, wobbling slightly each time she lands. She looks at you with a confident smile and your heart warms at the sight of her. The sunlight catches softly on her hair, haloing her in gold.

The Catalina sun has been good to her the past year or so - her freckles are more visible than ever, her hair has lightened considerably, and you loved it. The recovery months had been long and painful - and not just physically. She sat by your and Lev’s beds for the first few weeks, only getting up when she was dragged away for meals by the nurses. Being inside for so long made her look gaunt and drawn, but now she shone with newfound radiance and peace. She was safe, and so were you.

In a few more jumps, Abby was near the end of the hopscotch. As she leapt for the final square, she made a fatal mistake. She tilted her head to look at you right as she jumped - and lost her footing as she landed. Abby stumbled, falling right on her ass.

You burst into laughter, as did your students, and Abby’s head snapped to you. It was so ridiculous, the way she tumbled and looked absolutely mortified, and the more you replayed it in your head, the more you doubled over. You howled and fell to your knees - you had been so serious all day, and all your pent-up tiredness finally caught up to you. Tears streamed down your cheeks and your midsection started to hurt with your laughter. You watched Abby, who’s back was to you, as she slowly got to her feet.

Her head turned, and she glared at you. That shut you up. Her brows were knit together when she said “Oh, it’s over for you now!” The kids all screamed and laughed and cheered. She grinned evilly and stalked towards you. You jumped to your feet, shrieking and giggling. You spun towards the open field next to the school, and bolted.

You were never very fast, but then again, neither was Abby. Right now, however, you wished you had taken sprinting practice a little more seriously back at the WLF stadium. You could hear her heavy footfall behind you as she got closer and closer. The tall grass of the field whipped at your legs as you laughed and ran as fast as you could. “Get back here!” Abby shouted, which made you squeal loudly.

“Got you!” Abby’s hand caught your arm, and she yanked you back into her. You struggled against her, shouting and laughing, but you were fighting a losing battle. She pulled you to her chest, right as you tried to yank yourself free, and the two of you tumbled.

You both fell into the soft grass, and Abby’s hand shot out around your head to stop herself from crushing you. She had a huge grin on her face and you huffed a breath. “Not so fast anymore, huh,” she puffed. Abby trapped you in, encasing you in her warm body.

“Shut up, I almost escaped,” you smiled up at her.

You could feel your heart beating rapidly in your chest, both from your running and her closeness. She never ceased to make your head spin and your heart flutter, even after the past year the two of you had been dating.

You tucked away a strand of her honey-coloured hair that had fallen loose from her braid during your scuffle. You watched her piercing eyes as they snapped down to your lips.

You trailed your hands up to cup her face, smiling as you pulled her into a soft kiss. You could feel her smile against your mouth as the two of you connected. It was sweet and slow, full of love. You brought a hand to rest on her forearm, and she trailed a hand to your waist.

“Ewwwwww!” You heard a little voice call out, and the two of you pulled away from each other with a giggle.

“Oh shut it,” Abby called to the little boy and leaned down to plant a kiss on your forehead.

#abby anderson #abby tlou2 #tlou 2 abby #tlou part 2 #tlou2 #abby the last of us #abby tlou #tlou #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x female reader #v1ct0la talks #abby anderson tlou2 #tlou abby #abby x reader #lesbian

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someone-elsa · 8 months

Text

This love triangle saga was first mentioned in my latest story chapter 😘

Catalina has flirted with Venessa's boyfriend/baby daddy for some time, and finally slept with him. Venessa has just found out about it. However, this night isn't very good publicity for her since she's starring in the first Yamachan movie and a sequel is in the works. Kids movie star can't really go attacking people in public, can she? Even if it's for a good reason… How will Venessa save her career? Or is Catalina right?

And will Catalina get what she deserves? Probably not.

(The fans really got something to talk about lol)

Transcript under the cut:

The Annual Awards for the Most Influential, AKA The Kimmys Studio PBP, Del Sol Valley

CATALINA What do you think, Babes, how many Kimmys will I win? BABS All of them, obviously!

CAT Obviously, indeed.

??? …

BABS CAT, WATCH OOOOOUUUUUT!!!!

CAT Huh---!? ??? YOU BITCH!

CAT Ungh! Good evening to you too, skank! VENESSA Look who's talking, you syphilis-oozing hoe! You have gone too far this time!

CAT You know this feels almost as good as your boyfie choking me the other night… VENESSA AAAARGH!

BABS Stop it! Please! Someone, help! BOUNCER A Okay, okay, that's enough!

VENESSA Let me go! That cunt- BOUNCER B It's time for you to go home!

VENESSA This isn't over, bitch! BOUNCER B Come on now, lady!

CAT Oh definitely not! I'll steal your next man too!

VENESSA I will f*cking end you, you hear me!? CATALINA Only thing ending here is your pathetic career!

Something about us Something else

#ts4 #the sims 4 #ts4 storytelling #sims story #sims storytelling #something about us extras #something about us something else #simblr #violence cw #sim: catalina torres ward #sim: venessa jeong

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bbgem329 · 9 months

Text

Things Are Never As They Seem… Chapter Twenty Five

Pairings—Sebastian Stan x Actress!Reader, Sebastian Stan x OFC (PR relationship)

Summary

You and Sebastian Stan have been dating privately for over two years. Everything is perfect until he is coerced into a PR relationship when he signed with a new agency to advance his career. Trouble ensues…

Warnings

MINORS DNI! 18+++. Language. Fluff. HW sucks. SMUT. Oral (female receiving). PIV. Angst a little. Did I miss anything?

Series Masterlist

—————

May 29, 2021

“Fuck.”

You caught yourself on the edge of the counter, struggling to yank your pants up.

“You okay over there?”

You laughed a little, shaking your head as you finally drew the tight mom jeans over your hips with a subtle shimmy and slipped the button into place.

“I am riding the struggle bus.” You announced, “The test shots ran late, the director is an absolute dick, I’m starving, and on top of all that for some reason I’m spotting which is really odd because I know I’m at least two weeks out from my period.”

Your boyfriend chuckled softly on the other line, “Did you miss a pill?”

“No. I never ever do.” You snatched your phone off the counter, heading in the direction of the trailer bathroom to touch up your makeup and check your hair, “I love that that is what you're focused on.”

“Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t–”

“No.” You interjected softly, “I was teasing and honestly, I’m feeling a little hangry I mean nothing by it, seriously. I’m the one who's sorry–I’m the one who’s running late.”

He sighed, out of relief or what you weren’t sure, “Don’t even worry about that. I’m just hiding out in a guest room until you get here. And there is plenty of food, they’re getting it all out now.”

“Here. Facetime me.” A second later his facetime request came through, you immediately hit accept and propped your phone up on the counter, “How does this look?” You stepped back and did a little twirl, “What is everyone else wearing?”

Sebastian’s smirk turned flirty as his eyes trailed hungrily over your form, “You look absolutely gorgeous. The way your ass looks in those jeans…” He lifted his arms, making grabby hands at the camera, “I’m in love.”

“Thank you.” You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth, biting back a smile as you ran your fingers through your hair and fluffed your loose curls, “Are you sure the top isn’t too much?”

You fiddled with the little bow at the front of your navy blue, lacy corset top. You were going out tonight with a group of friends for his friend Tommy's birthday. You figured jeans and a nice top with a pair of heels would be good enough but you couldn’t help but feel like the top might be a little much. You’d been waiting forever to wear it and now was your chance. It made you feel sexy and confident and that was something you could use tonight if you were going to deal with Catalina.

“No, sweetheart.” He shook his head, not lifting his gaze from your chest. No doubt admiring the way the top accentuated your breasts. “You look absolutely gorgeous. You will, hands down, be the best dressed. It’s perfect—You’re perfect.”

“Thank you.”

You couldn’t stop blush that rose to the apple of your cheeks, even if your tried. The way he said it—the way he was ogling you so openly, left you no choice but to believe it was true. At times you still didn’t know how to handle the attention or to accept the compliments he gave you, more often than not you found yourself brushing it off and nudging the focus onto him.

“What are you wearing?” You giggled when he rolled his eyes at you. He knew you so well–knew exactly what you were doing, “I think it’s only fair I get a fit check after I gave you one.”

He squinted, lips pressed in a thin line but you didn’t miss the little cork at the corner of his full lips, “A fit check?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, waving your hand at him through the camera, “Just show me your outfit.”

He propped his phone on something and stepped back from the camera. You paused rummaging through your makeup bag to watch him as he, just as you had, did a little twirl for the camera.

God.

It wasn’t even fair how gorgeous he was.

In a simple pair of light wash jeans, t-shirt, and his signature pair of white Nike air forces, he looked like sex on legs. His tattoos had been removed earlier this morning in preparation to reapply fresh ones tomorrow and his hair was pushed back with a pair of raybans.

He looked less like Tommy and more like himself like this.

Exactly how you liked him best.

You were definitely taking advantage of that tonight.

You’d go out and spend your time with your friends but tonight he would be all yours.

“Ughh.” You groaned, letting your head drop into your hands as you leaned over the bathroom counter, “Why are you so sexy?” You jutted your bottom lip out in a pout, “It’s not fair.”

“Now you know how I feel!!” He laughed loudly and warmth spread throughout your chest and belly, “It’s going to be hard to keep my eyes and hands to myself tonight.”

You frowned, a downpour of reality washing over you, “You’re going to have to keep the ruse up for the party?”

Sebastian nodded solemnly, guilt swarming in those cerulean eyes as he picked up the phone and brought it closer to his face, “Not everyone knows there. I’m sorry–”

You held a hand up, shaking your head, “Don’t apologize. It’s alright.” You gave a little shrug of your shoulders before pulling your mascara from your makeup bag, “It’s only for a couple hours. No biggie.”

He sighed softly, “I know but it still sucks. We should be able to enjoy time with our friends without all this PR bullshit.” He waved his hand, eyebrows furrowing and jaw clenching, “Without Catalina fucking with our lives.”

You knew he was right, of course, but you were over letting her control your emotions.

So what if you had to act like you weren’t absolutely in love with Sebastian at the party tonight?

So what if you couldn’t openly hang on him and kiss him?

You would get him all to yourself tonight and for the rest of your life, you were more than sure of that.

Catalina wouldn’t be around forever.

She was temporary.

That relationship was a movie and you too had a part to play.

And you’d play it well.

If only for Sebastian’s sake.

“It’s alright, seriously.” You smiled, one you hoped reassured him, “It’s only for a little bit. She won’t be around forever.”

He was quiet for a moment, studying you carefully through the camera before speaking up, “I love you, you know that?”

“I do.” You grinned, “And did you know I love you too?”

He nodded, a smile growing across his handsome face, “I do.”

“Good, now.” You finished the last of your touch-up and sprayed a little perfume on your neck and wrists, “I’m gonna go. I gotta swing and grab that cake and then I’ll be on my way to you.”

“Okay.” He blew you a kiss, “Drive safe. See you soon.”

“Time me.” And with a wink you ended the call.

—————

As soon as you stepped through the door, you were completely bombarded. You barely had time to blink before your bag and the cake were being pulled from your hands, and then you were being drawn into a million different hugs.

“Wow.” You laughed, finally making it through the warm greetings, “Quite the welcome committee you have.”

“You’re the last to arrive.” Your friend Josie took your hand, leading you in the direction of the kitchen, “Go ahead and make a plate. Everyone else is eating throughout the living room and sunroom.”

“Momma.” A little voice called from the other room, “Momma!”

She rolled her eyes playfully, a big grin splitting across her face, “Duty calls. I’ll save you a seat.”

And with that she left you alone in the kitchen.

You weren’t super close with Josie but you’d been here enough over the last couple years to find your way around her kitchen. You snagged a plate from the cupboard and trailed over to the island like a horse to a carrot. You were starving and there were so many options spread across the counter top, you didn’t even know where to start.

Just as you leaned over to pick out a few taco shells, a pair of arms snaked around your waist and drew you back against a familiar hard body.

“Sebastian.” You chided softly, shivering as he began trailing open mouthed kisses up the side of your neck. You set your plate on the counter and halfheartedly bat his hands away, suddenly feeling weak in the knees, “You can’t just do that. Anyone could walk in…”

“You look so gorgeous, baby.” One more little kiss to the skin beneath your jaw and he was spinning you around, crushing you to his chest. “I missed so much today.”

You giggled, cheeks flaming bright pink. “You saw me this morning.”

Despite knowing you could get caught—knowing the risk, you found yourself wrapping your arms over his shoulders and rolling up on your toes to connect your lips with his for a sweet, drawn out kiss.

He groaned against your lips when your fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, giving it a deliberate tug.

You tugged again and used his following gasp to your advantage, slipping your tongue into his mouth to tangle with his own. You lost yourself in the kiss, as you always did—pressing your body closer to his, so close you could feel his heart beating against your breast.

“Get a room.”

You jolted back, practically throwing yourself across the room, as far away from Sebastian as you could get in only a few seconds.

“Jeez.”

You lifted your head to find the birthday boy standing in the entryway, a knowing smirk on his lips.

He strolled further into the room, towards Sebastian. “You’re lucky it was me that walked in.”

“Fuck off.” Your boyfriend laughed, brushing Tommy off when he threw an arm over his shoulder, “I can kiss my girlfriend when I want to.”

“Tell that to that barbie bitch out there.” He nodded his head towards the living room with a chuckle, “She’s telling everyone and anyone who will listen all about how obsessed you are with her and how it was love at first. She’s yammering complete and utter bullshit.”

You watched with a baited breath as Sebastian’s entire body went rigid, “What?”

Tommy shook his head, giving a little shrug of his shoulders as he spooned a bit more rice and beans on his plate, “She’s a real bitch that one. I’ve dealt with her for all of thirty minutes and I already want to bash my head against the wall. I can’t even imagine what it must be like for you.”

“Fuck.” Sebastian groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face, “I’m sorry, baby. I’ve gotta go deal with that.”

He shot you an apologetic smile over his shoulder and disappeared through the door.

Tommy said your name softly, “It’s good to see you. Thanks for coming.”

You smiled, “Of course. Wouldn’t miss it… Though it’s probably going to be a long night.”

“Yeah.” He grinned, pulling you into a half side hug when you came to stand next to him at the island and picked up your discarded plate, “But we’ll make it fun.” He gave your shoulder a little squeeze, eyes flashing with mirth, “Promise.”

—————

You hid your smile behind your glass, watching as Catalina shoved herself away from the table before storming off into the restaurant.

The moment she was out of sight, it was like a weight had been lifted from everyone's shoulders and everyone relaxed.

Finally, you could breathe again.

Catalina had made everyone uncomfortable all night.

When you’d sang Tommy ‘Happy Birthday’, she had loudly and rudely announced her birthday was coming up in the next few days too, and suddenly the cake you’d bought was being held in front of her face and at the end of the song, she was blowing out the candles.

You’d been forced to watch her hang all over your boyfriend at the party and then watch her pout whenever he brushed her off—which meant she was pouting and stomping around throughout the entire event.

It was embarrassing. You’d honestly gotten second hand embarrassment just witnessing her behavior, you couldn’t even imagine what Sebastian must’ve felt all night long.

Some people’s kids. Some people’s kids.

Fortunately, only the close knit group of friends ended up going out on the party bus so Sebastian was free to be around you–to touch you and kiss you as long as you were both careful in public.

You were more than a little relieved that Josie had rented out the back patio of a restaurant to enjoy drinks away from the general public’s watchful eye.

“Sebastian.” You followed the voice to find Tommy lifting his beer from at the end of the table, “I’m so sorry you have to deal with that man.”

Your lover laughed a little, shaking his head, “You should feel sorry for me.” He scrubbed a hand down his face, “She’s much worse. Her behavior tonight was pretty typical—tame.”

“Did she leave for good?” You spoke up, eyes darting from him to the door she stormed through.

He nodded, fingers trailing over the little patch of hair on his chin. Since he didn’t have a beard at the moment, he didn’t have anything else to run his fingers over. “She got an Uber back to the house.”

“Damn.” You tsked softly, “I was hoping she’d go to her cousins again.”

Sebastian stood from his seat across the table, his expression unreadable, and walked around the table before slipping into the empty seat next to you. He took your hand in his, tugging you toward him. You plopped in his lap, his arms looping tightly around you waist to pull you back into his chest.

“Well, hello.” You smiled, turning your head to press your lips to his in a soft, short kiss. “I missed you.”

His eyes twinkled with mirth in the fairy lights hung over your head, a sly smirk tugging at the corner of his pink lips, “I’ve been right here all night.”

You playfully smacked his chest, causing him to laugh, “Shut up, you.” You relaxed back into him, head lolling back against his shoulder. He tightened his arms around you and layed a sweet kiss on your temple, “You know what I mean. It was awful not being able to touch you and–”

“Hang all over me?” Sebastian offered you, smirk growing, “I missed you too.”

“Hey.” You scowled, struggling to fight back a smile, “Don’t act like you don’t love when I hang on you—Don’t act like you don’t hang on me right back.”

“Mhmm.” He buried his face in your neck, pressing little kisses to the skin beneath your jaw, his hands trailing up down your side, squeezing your hips, “Do you want to get out of here?”

You felt heat creep up your cheek, your panties growing wetter and wetter with every touch and soft kiss to your skin, “Yeah. Take me home, handsome.”

—————

Not even twenty minutes later you found yourself standing only in your little, lace panties at the edge of the bed. Nothing more than a trembling, needy puddle at that moment.

You wanted it so bad. Needed him so badly.

A groan rumbled through Sebastian’s chest before he buried his face in the crook of your neck, rutting his throbbing bulge harder into your ass. His hands trailed up your trembling body to grope your breasts, pausing every so often to pinch and twist your pebbled buds between his expert fingers.

“Please.” You whimpered, hips rocking desperately into his, the needy ache in your core almost unbearable. All thoughts vanished from your head, replaced by an instantaneous urgency to be filled. “Please, Sebastian.”

“It’s okay, baby.” He shushed you softly, planting one last little kiss to your flushed cheek before he stepped back. “I’m trying to take my time with you.”

A pitiful whine slipped from your bitten lips before you even had the chance to stop it. The sudden loss of his firm, warm body and the friction of his covered cock, sent you spiraling so fast you nearly cried.

Sebastian didn’t give you the opportunity to protest. A blinked and you found yourself pinned across the bed, your bare breast pressed to the cool sheets, hips digging harshly into the bottom bed frame, and your toes just barely skimming the floor.

“Just relax, honey.” He cooed, breath fanning against your lower back as his fingers hooked on the band of your panties, tugging them sensually down your legs as he dropped to his knees behind you. “I want dessert first.”

A strangled moan tore through your chest when his teeth sunk harshly into your left ass cheek and as if they had a mind of their own, your hips jolted back into his face, a fresh wave of slick dripping from your aching core and down the insides of your thighs.

You cried out when a loud smack echoed throughout the quiet room, followed by a pleasant sting radiating across the right side of your plushy behind.

Sebastian tutted softly to himself, both hands skimming up the sides of your thigh, holding you still as he dipped forward to plant a kiss on the reddening skin. “That wasn’t very nice, pretty girl… Almost knocked my teeth.”

You swallowed thickly, tilting your head to the side until your cheek rested against the bed, willing yourself to relax and surrender to his complete control. “I-,” You couldn’t see him but from the heat in his tone and way he was kneading the plush of your ass he was strung out and moments away from losing his composure. “I’m sorry.”

An amused hum rumbled up from his chest, thick fingers sliding up to dig harshly into your cheeks, pulling the jiggly flesh apart to expose your slick and shiny core to his hungry eyes, “Jesus Christ.” He gave a little delightful laugh, hot breath fanning across your cunt, causing you to clench around nothing and soft whine to tumble from your bitten lip, “You’re fucking soaked, sweetheart.”

You give a little wiggle of your hips, a futile attempt to tempt him as a wave of heat crawled up your neck and settled over the apples of your cheeks. You felt so vulnerable in that moment, in the best kind of way.

He saw you.

He always did.

And he liked it too. If the way he was on his knees for you, panting like that, fingers gripping you like you were moments away from disappearing before his very eyes, was any indication.

“Mmm.” Your core tightened in anticipation as his hot breath fanned over your wet folds, closer now, and his fingers slipped down to pull your puffy lips apart further, “Gorgeous.” He cooed softly, dipping down to press a light kiss to your clit. “Look at this perfect little pussy.”

“S-Sebastian!” You gasped out, spine arching as he planted an open mouth kiss to your swollen bud before his tongue darted out to lick a long strip up your slit. “Oh, God.” Your eyes rolled back in your head, hands scrambling for purchase in the comforter beneath you as he lapped at your slick, dragging the warm, wet muscle down to flick over your sensitive nub. “Please.”

An appreciative groan rumbled against you and molten heat tore through you, settling deep in your naval as he got to work, sucking your swollen clit into his hot, wet mouth.

“Oh.” Your hips rocked back against his face when his tongue slipped up to poke at your weeping hole, thrusting it shallowy into your velvety walls. “God—fuck. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Sebastian moaned into you, large hands snapping up to grasp your hips, rolling you over his face and you got with the program pretty damn quick, one hand reaching back to tangle in his tousled hair as you rutted your hip back against his face.

You nearly sobbed when his tongue slipped out, returning to flick your clit, tracing intricate patterns over the swollen nerve as a finger skimmed down from your hip to circle your little hole.

“Yes. Yes. Yes.” You chanted out, slick body sliding across the cool marble with every desperate grind of your hips. “Please. Give it to me. Oh, please.”

“I love it when you beg.” Sebastian mumbled against you before his warm, wet mouth wrapped around your clit, giving it a messy and salacious kiss as he thrust two thick fingers into your pulsing hole.

“‘You’re gonna make me cum.” You gasped out, thighs beginning to tremble as the coil tightened in your naval and your vision began to swim. “Oh. Oh, god.” And then he crooked his fingers, brushing the pads of them perfectly against the spongy spot inside you. “Haah…Fuck…. Right there, Oh! Right there!”

He doubled his efforts, fingers working quicker over your g-spot, mouth sucking harder on your pulsing bud. Sebastian was always a messy eater but nothing could have ever prepared for the sounds he made as he feasted on you and how they echoed through the spacious room.

“Want you to cum on my face.” He grunted, hot tongue darting out to lick languidly and lap at your swollen bud. “Make a mess, baby. Can you do that for me? Can you cum on my tongue and fingers?”

“Yes, God, yes.”

“That’s it. Good girl.” He added another finger, thrusting them rapidly in and out of your velvety walls, curling them with each pass over that special spot. “Give it to me, gorgeous.” He panted out, voice low and thick with desperation.

Sebastian’s lips wrapped around your clit again, giving it a harsh suck as he shook his head from side to side and you shattered.

A sound you’d never made before—something between a wail and a groan, tore through your chest and the coil snapped. Your entire body tightened around his fingers, vision swarming and ears ringing as you sagged bonelessly against the bed.

He worked you through it, slipping his fingers out as his tongue dipped down to lap at the creamy slick gushing from your pulsing core, his thumb rubbing expanding circles on your oversensitive bud to prolong your mind shattering release.

“God damn, baby.” He laughed, giving your ass a delightful little smack as he rose to his feet and draped himself over your damp back, littering kisses along the side of your face and down your neck. “You did so fucking good, gorgeous.”

You mumbled incoherently, head still fuzzy and your heart thumping rapidly in your chest as you struggled to catch your breath and gather your bearings.

“The way you were humping my face—Fuck… Just about came in my pants.” He buried his face in the crook of your neck, sucking and licking at the skin there as he rolled his hips against yours. “God, do you have any idea what you do to me?”

You moaned softly in response, one hand flying back to grasp his hip, tugging at the band of his black briefs as you pressed your ass harder against his covered length.

“I gotta fuck you, baby.” He groaned, one hand swiftly drew the fabric down his thighs, freeing his thick, leaking length. “Need to be inside you so bad.”

“Fuck me.” Your plea turned into a gasp, shaking body jolting forward as he skimmed the fat of his cock through your slit, coating himself in your slick. “Please. Oh, god.”

Sebastian didn't give you any warning, grasping your hips and yanking you back as he thrust forward, burying himself fully in your warm, wet cunt, splitting you open.

You cried out, hands scrambling for purchase as your vision swam. No matter how well he prepped and stretched you beforehand, you wouldn’t ever get used to the size of him.

“Fuckkkk.” He breathed out, fingers biting harshly into the flesh of your hips as the front of his hips met the smooth skin of your ass. “Need a minute. Holy fuck.”

You wiggled impatiently, a pathetic whine spilling from your swollen lips as you struggled to fuck yourself back on his cock. Your toes were off the ground and you had nothing to steady yourself, he was in complete control.

“Impatient little thing, aren’t ya?” He chuckled, one hand remained on your hip as his other danced up your spine, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He pressed down on your upper back, forcing you harder into the sheets. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll take care of ya.”

Your wailing moan pierced through the air when his hips snapped forward again, cock sinking up to the hilt. He sets a brutal pace, fucking you hard and fast, his heavy balls tapping your swollen clit with every deep, deliberate thrust.

“So fucking tight.” He grit out, fingers biting painfully into your hips as he pushed and pulled you with every purposeful flex of his hips, cock pistoning in and out of your warm, wet channel. “Feels so good, baby. This pretty pussy was made for me.”

Your slick, limp body slid further across the bed with every punishing thrust, incomprehensible babbles and whines spilling from your lips as your lover lost himself in your pulsing cunt.

“Who’s making you feel good?” Sebastian leaned forward to wrap an arm around your middle, angling your hips higher and you cried out, the fat head of his cock bumping the spot that made stars burst behind your eyes with every thrust. “Who’s pussy is this? Hmm?”

When you didn’t respond, he pressed his chest to your back, keeping the steady, brutal rhythm of his thrusts as his free hand slid up to wrap around your throat, “Answer me.” His lips skimmed across your upper back, pausing to sink his teeth into the smooth skin of your shoulders, his pace never faltering, “Tell me your mine. Tell me.”

“I’m yours.” You mewled out, eyes rolling back into your head as your pleasure began to crest, thighs trembling and cunt tightening around his twitching cock in waves. “I’m yours. Gonna cum. You’re gonna make me cum.”

“That’s right.” He panted out, burying his face in the crook of his neck, his entire large body covering your much smaller one as he picked up the pace, thrusts growing erotic and sloppy. “Cum for me. Need you to cum with me.”

He sounded just as wrecked, if not more so, as you were and the sight of him alone when you stole a peek at him over your shoulder, was enough to send your barreling over the edge.

His brows were furrowed in concentration, head hanging, jaw slack, and eyes clenched shut as his entire body rolled over yours. His hair was flying in every which direction, his skin was shimmering with a thin layer of sweat in the dim light, and you swore you’d never see anything more beautiful than him in that moment as he completely lost himself in the pleasure only you could provide.

A hoarse cry was his only warning before your body convulsed beneath his as you came again, walls clenching so tightly you milked him of his own orgasm. One hand held your hip in a bruising grip, the other tightening around your throat as he flexed his hips forward one last time, pressing his cock as deep as possible before emptying himself in your cunt with a breathless shout of your name.

“Fuck.” He croaked out before collapsing on you, his entire body weight pressing you harder into the pleasantly soft bed, softening cock still buried in your twitching core as you both took a minute to compose yourselves.

“Holy…”

“Yeah.” You laughed a little, body completely boneless beneath his and your legs shaking a little, “Holy.”

“Give me a minute.” He choked out, burying his face in your back, “I’ll be ready to go again.”

You giggled breathlessly, deliberately clenching around his softened length just to hear him groan, “You better, Stan. I’m not through with you yet.”

—————

Taglist

@justlovelifeblog @inlovewith3 @buckybarnesandmarvel @sleutherclaw @snugglingbucky @perlaluna @littlewhiterose

@idontwannagomrstarkk @abihaaa14 @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer @sebsgirl71479 @getofffmydick @eccentricnos @barnesml @aira1995 @sweetwritingfanficfriend @dhoruwolfie @unaxv @nerdytif

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you

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silverwhittlingknife · 1 year

Note

Idk if you read ao3 but if you do…….. got any Dick fics to share?

afdsf You have come to the right place. I read so much ao3, anon.

Dick Grayson Fanfic Recs

General notes: This is a mix of fics I associate with Dick, so some are straightforwardly "this is Dick's POV and a story about him" (like a soft place to land) whereas some are more loosely "this is the POV of one of his siblings who's just thinking about Dick a lot." Post-Crisis is my favorite continuity/tone, so everything is post-Crisis unless otherwise noted, but I happily read nu52/Rebirth or WFA-style fics when I like the authors, so there are some of those in here too.

I just skimmed through my bookmarks and picked out some fics I have fond memories of, so I tried to add content warnings when I remembered, but caveat lector - check the warnings in each individual fic before you read! (Mostly: be advised that there are both Good Dad Bruce and Bad Dad Bruce stories.)

Things I like include plotty long fics, timeline shenanigans like de-aging (and broadly, anything that emphasizes change over time), angst and hurt/comfort, characters with flaws and interpersonal tensions and misunderstandings (and reconciliations <3), explorations of trauma and grief, and Dick and Tim's relationship. So, uh, this rec list is going to be pretty shaped by those preferences.

Okay! Let's do this.

Organization:

Plotty ensemble fics with Dick in a lead role

Dick & Tim fics

Dick & Bruce fics

Dick & Jason fics

Dick & Damian fics

Fics that didn't fit into the other categories

Plotty ensemble fics with Dick in a lead role:

Exactly How This Grace Thing Works by irnan: Dick gets de-aged. You'd think this would be a routine thing. This fic is so great, you guys.

How Far Love Goes by flybynightwing: This one isn't just about Dick - it's an ensemble fic with great plotting and great writing for everyone, especially Steph - but at its heart is a very careful consideration of Dick and Bruce's relationship in all its complexities, from the bonkers highs of Golden and Silver Age comics to the darkest parts of post-Crisis and new 52. (cw: parental abuse, read the content warnings carefully)

from the till-then to the ever-since by kieron_oduibhir: This isn't precisely Dick-centric so much as it's mostly Dick-POV, but it's really good! Everybody meets their younger selves, and I especially enjoy the contrasts between Robin!Dick and Nightwing!Dick.

'no' and other four-letter words by a_good_soldier: Dick reassessing everything with Catalina, much later. (cw mentions of rape)

the man with guns for eyes by 8sword: Dick comes back from the dead. New 52 continuity, post-Spyral. Angst.

bad signal by prismatic-et-al: Not Dick's POV, but it's a great ensemble fic with Dick at the center. Hard to say more without spoiling the plot.

Dick and Tim fics:

a soft place to land by bitimdrake: Tim gives Dick a gift on the One Year Later cruise. Possibly my favorite Dick and Tim fic in the history of time ever. Perfect character voices, perfect story, perfect everything. <333 I reread it regularly.

long distance by bitimdrake: AU where Bruce is really dead and Dick finally gets a phone call from Tim. It's so sad and lives in my mind rent-free. (I also really love pain/release, which is hurt/comfort for Tim.)

Holding the Line by birdchild: Dick having anxiety dreams and getting comforted by Tim. ;_; Very canon-conscious with lots of thoughtfully-integrated references. Part of a really wonderfully-written Tim-and-Damian-centric series, and you probably have to read the series in order to understand this one-shot - and if you like those characters at all, you should!

When It Rains by vellaphoria: After Cass and Tim return from Paris, something seems… wrong. Dick investigates and ends up facing memories of his own. Really nice balance of dealing with ignored-by-canon traumas but the characters still sound like themselves (cw mentions of rape)

We've Taken Different Paths, Traveled Different Roads by sohotthateveryonedied: A moment of reconciliation post-Blackest Night ;_;

The Center Cannot Hold by kieron_oduibhir: Dick having a bad day and getting comforted by Tim and Bruce. New 52/Rebirth continuity.

the oracle at delphi by kieron_oduibhir: Future fic. The POV characters observe Dick and Tim. Hard to say more without spoilers. Trust me, it's very clever!!

Choco Bombs by lurkinglurkerwholurks: Tim POV, but the focus is on a moment of Tim comforting Dick in the Red Robin era. Mostly WFA-style but with post-Crisis influence. (The same author also has some excellent longer ensemble fics where Dick plays a minor role but is consistently well-written when he shows up.)

wake me up before you go go by incogneat_oh: short one-shot: Tim sneaks into Dick's apartment, Robin-era. General note - I only picked out two one-shots, but this author has done a bunch of WFA-style fics which are universally charming and lots of fun.

there'll always be a few things, maybe several things by incogneat_oh: short one-shot: Dick seeks out Tim after a nightmare, Red Robin-era. ;_; Low-key angst.

Road to Damascus by irrelevant: dark AU where Batman kills Zucco and Dick's parents don't die. Fascinating world-building and great character voices. (cw: explicit sex scene between Dick and an OC early in the fic - it's not important and you can skip it but just generally think of this fic as an r-rated movie)

There in the sudden blackness by camsthiSky: Dick and Tim tension in the Batman: Reborn era. Dick and Tim POVs.

things that don't kill us by polsvoice: This one's really Tim-centric but it's all about Tim missing Dick ;_;. After the events of Batman #71, Tim makes a visit to Ric. Nu52/Rebirth era, Tim POV.

and the shapes that you drew may change beneath a different light by popsunner: Tim-centric but I think of it as being about Dick because his absence is the hole that the whole fic's shaped around. ;_; Nu52/Rebirth era, Tim POV, Tim and Damian bonding in the aftermath of Dick's death.

spill of the war by 2012bookworm: "You dosed yourself. With Joker venom." Tim-centric, but Dick is a major character, trying to fix Tim while not-so-secretly crumbling himself. Dick's a barista, but not done in the way you'd expect. Very angsty.

exit wounds by Shari Deschain: very short one-shot in the very early days of Tim-as-Robin

Dick and Bruce fics:

almost right by bitimdrake: Bruce-centric, but it's about his relationship with Dick. (cw mentions of parental abuse)

in the dark of the night by fanfictiongreenirises: Dick & Bruce, through the years. AU where Dick gets adopted last.

deep roots are not reached by the frost by fanfictiongreenirises: in a future where everyone gets along, Dick gets de-aged to several different ages and has to process how the world has changed. I love how different the various incarnations of Dick feel. (cw mentions of rape and parental abuse)

shoulder to shoulder by lurkinglurkerwholurks: Dick and Bruce at Janet Drake's funeral.

the lower and coarser soul by dustorange: absolutely perfect slice-of-life with Dick, Bruce, and Tim (cw mention of Bruce punching Dick)

Dick and Jason fics:

Recollect, re-collect by Ptelea: A spell gone wrong leads to Jason reassessing some things. Jason-centric, but it's mostly about his relationship with Dick. Fantastic writing and plotting. New 52/Rebirth continuity (Spyral, Tim's close to Jason instead of Dick, etc.).

The 70 Days After Groundhog Day by Ptelea: Fascinating concept - Jason experiences a traumatizing Groundhog Day, but the whole fic is from Dick's POV in the aftermath as he pieces together what happened - and wonderful slow-burn writing. New 52/Rebirth continuity. (cw: mentions of rape).

Dick and Damian fics:

the primacy of personal conscience by birdsofthesoul: Brilliant concept (a wishing well that grants wishes - but it might be evil!), whirlwind plot, and a great take on Dick that doesn't lose his edge. Damian is a minor character but an important part of Dick's motivations. Read if only for my favorite take on Talia ever in the last chapter. New 52/Rebirth continuity.

3:16 by partingxshot: With faltering steps, Dick and Damian become Batman and Robin. Lovely writing. Canon notes: closely tracks Morrison's B&R and Leviathan.

Fics that didn't fit into my other categories:

It's a Wonderful Earth-218 by flybynightwing: I asked for an It's a Wonderful Life-style fic starring Dick and then I GOT ONE, proving that miracles are real and flybynightwing performs them. <3

If you just call me by flybynightwing: Dick and Donna, through the years.

continuous tense by batofgoodintent: Fix-it for the Mirage plotline. DickKory.

Let Us Be Brave and i want to wake up (i hate this dream) by camsthiSky: One-shots with Dick-as-Batman, depressed and grieving.

Don't You Forget About Me by sohotthateveryonedied: Everybody forgets Dick. ;_; One-shot.

touch starved by envysparkler: Dick is touch-starved and then gets hugged a lot. WFA-style.

feast by envysparkler: The Batkids are magical creatures that feed on pleasure from cuddle piles. Gen ensemble; ch. 1 is Dick & Jason and ch. 4 is Dick & Tim. WFA-style.

Also, I write stories about Dick & Tim sometimes, so, uh. If you're interested, there's

the WIP where Dick meets Tim for the first and second and third time and finds him really annoying,

the one where they spend Christmas Eve together and inch closer to being brothers,

the one where Tim is a wimp,

the one where Dick catches a falling Tim in RR 12, and

the WIP where Dick's trying to solve a mystery and everybody's mad at each other (this one's gonna be heartwarming eventually I promise!! later).

Snippets: Tim's imprisoned in fantasy!Russia and Dick has to disguise himself as an interrogator to rescue him, outline of an angsty fic of Dick and Tim in a world with soulmarks.

In conclusion

Dick is the best blorbo ever to blorbo. There are more fics in his character tag than for any of the other Batkids and yet there will never be enough <3

#ask tag #fic recs #dick grayson #<333 the BOY #there are even more fics that i like but this has taken wayyyy too long already asdfsdfa #anyway these are all ones i like a lot #also both fantastic-nonsense and upswings have good rec lists if you want to check those out!!#by the way wfa-style doesn't actually mean ''set in wfa continuity''#it's more ''probably loosely au / you're more likely to enjoy this if you also like wfa / cute things probably happen''#this is not a scientific category it's just based on ~vibes~ sdfdsfs

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