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dollysilena · 1 year

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brother’s best friend!eren x kirstein!reader

warnings/notes: college au, suggestive themes but nothing explicit (maybe will be if i make this into a series), eren is a huge flirt and ur shy, unedited ngl bc i wrote this on my phone in bed half asleep, 1k

(18+) MINORS/BLANK/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

brother’s best friend!eren who first hears about you from jean, your older brother by two years. he overhears jean talking with you over facetime as he congratulates you on committing to their same university.

brother’s best friend!eren who raises an eyebrow at jean because he’s barely mentioned you before besides in passing. infact, he realizes he doesn’t even know what you look like besides for the few childhood photos jean keeps above his desk, which aren’t very telling as of present. he barely catches a glimpse of you on jean’s phone beside him, but from what he could see, you were much cuter than your irritating brother. (yet, he still hangs out with him everyday.)

brother’s best friend!eren who asks jean when the call ends why he’s never met you. he recalls how you’ve barely ever come up to visit besides the occasional trip with your parents. a few times, their friends had even extended invitations out for you to come join them to hang out whenever jean mentions you’re in town, but jean had always adamantly refused on your behalf. jean scoffs and says something along the lines of, “he’d rather die than let his scumbags friends be around his baby sister, especially you, yeager.”

brother’s best friend!eren who finds it amusing how overprotective jean is over you and it makes him all the more interested. you can’t help but pique his curiosity.

brother’s best friend!eren who eventually forgets about jean’s mysterious little sister until a few months pass and the following school year rolls around. jean begrudgingly asks their friend group if they would be willing to help you move into your dorm since your parents couldn’t make it last second and you would need the extra hands. connie and armin, always so friendly, agree. eren, who of course is as chivalrous as the others, or so he claims, couldn’t help but feel the same interest take over from months before. he agrees as well.

brother’s best friend!eren who has to listen to jean give the stereotypical big brother speech during the drive to meet you at your dorm. he rambles on about how you’re “absolutely off limits” and “you’re dead meat if you even think about laying a finger on her!” he can’t help but notice jean glaring at him in particular through the rear-view mirror.

brother’s best friend!eren who first meets you on move-in day outside your dorm next to a moving truck, with a massive moving box blocking your elusive face. you stammer out a quick greeting to everyone, eren barely hearing your sheepish voice from behind the cardboard. it was apparent you were struggling with the box in your hands. he chuckles and tells you to hand it over, that’s what he was there to do after all. you graciously pass it to him, and he finally gets to see the girl he’s been so curious of for the past few months.

brother’s best friend!eren who immediately thinks you’re a pretty little thing, and can’t help but be smitten with your bashful eyes and smile. your hands nervously toy with the hem of your dress, and he can’t help but take note of the blush barely dusting your cheeks. jean, ever so observant, barks at eren to get moving. “these boxes aren’t gonna move themselves!” he claims, but eren knows it’s a ploy to get him away from his beloved little sister.

brother’s best friend!eren who notices you trailing after him and the boys as they take your belongings from the car up to your room.

“something the matter?” armin asks looking up at you, hoisting up a box from the trunk. you stand sheepishly off to the side, seeming like you were waiting to ask something.

“is there anything i can do?” you question with a frown. “i can’t let you guys do all the work.”

“‘course you can!” connie chuckles, going to ruffle your hair. “what’s the point of having five guys here if not to do the grunt work?”

“don’t worry your pretty little head ‘bout it,” eren comments, and you immediately clam up and he smirks at your fluster.

“paws off you three!” jean shouts. he’s practically smoking from the ears.

brother’s best friend!eren who can’t wait to talk to you again, so when jean and the others aren’t paying attention, he sneaks up to your room where you were waiting. you were already unpacking all your things, and he takes note of the adorable knickknacks already strewn over your desk, colorful stationery, and even the few stuffed animals adorning your now-made pink bed. you were perched on your tippy toes, trying to place a hello kitty plush ontop a shelf too high for you to reach. he tries to ignore the way the skirt of your dress barely skims the edge of your underwear. (pink, he thinks.) he immediately goes over, and grabs your waist so you don’t stumble and grabs the plushie out of your hand.

“here, let me do it,” he states simply, setting it ontop the shelf. he doesn’t bother to remove his hand from your waist.

brother’s best friend!eren who doesn’t even have to look down at your much smaller frame to know he’s got you flustered again. admittedly, he finds it cute how quickly you get nervous around him. it makes him wonder how fast he can make you melt. (little does he know, you’re already putty in his hands.)

brother’s best friend!eren who immediately grabs one of your colorful gel pens off your desk and a sticky note and scribbles something down. you look at him through fluttering eyelashes with a confused expression.

“you call me when you need help with stuff like this, yeah?” he offers, slipping the sticky note in your hand. it wasn’t until you look at it that you realize it’s his number.

“stuff like what?” you question as you look up at him, and he can’t help but notice small cheerful smile threatening to break on your glossy lips.

“whatever you want, pretty girl.”

brother’s best friend!eren who walks out of your room with an undeniable smirk, leaving you dumfounded, and with a new contact for your phone.

do we want this as like a blurb series?? lmk, and feel free to shoot ideas/thoughtz in my inbox hehe

#eren yeager x reader #eren x reader #eren yeager imagine #eren yeager blurb #eren yeager x you #eren x you #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan x you #aot x you #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager headcanons #eren jaeger headcanons

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indigoflorals · 1 year

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payback (18+)

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Sum: Rafe gives you another option to pay him back for hitting his car

Warnings: DUB-CON/NON-CON, IF THIS UPSETS YOU, SCROLL. Oral sex, swallowing, hair pulling, extortion, throat-fucking, public oral sex

The shockwave from the collision shot through you before you even saw the break lights. You had just rear ended the truck in front of you while checking a text.

It was a red light, fuck. This could not be happening. You were beyond broke. The light turned green, and you and the truck pulled to the side of the road.

It was dark, and the black truck blended into the background well. You couldn’t see any damage as you pulled in. It wasn’t until you parked directly next to the vehicle that you got a good look at its owner.

Rafe Cameron

This was the worse case scenario. Even without damage, you were sure he’d want your insurance. The insurance you could barely pay as is.

You watched as the blond stepped out from the drivers side, and you followed not long after.

“Dude,” You sighed, “I am so fucking sorry. If anything’s damaged I can—“

Rafe interrupted you. “I feel like I know you. Did we go to high school together?”

You stopped, furrowing your eyebrows at his statement, “Yeah, we had Bio and Calc together.”

A look of remembrance washed over his face, an ‘o’ coming to his lips, “Shit, I remember you! You always sat right next to me,” He looked you up and down with a smirk, “Better to look at now.”

A huff erupted from you. “Sure yeah,” You mumbled, “How’s your truck?” You walked past him, circling the back of the truck, feeling his eyes on you the entire time.

A dent. Big enough you knew anyone could see it during the day. You cursed silently, begging he wouldn’t be angry.

“Is it bad?” He laughed, seemingly amused by your distress.

“No!” You spoke immediately running your hand through your hair, “Maybe.”

He only laughed again.

“Well,” He walked to face you, leaning against the truck, “I know you can’t pay for that. You’re poor.”

Before you could protest, he spoke again, raising a hand to shush you.

“So, I have an alternative. No money involved.” He smiled.

You scowled instantly. “I’m not a prostitute, Rafe.”

The blond scoffed, “I didn’t say you were, and don’t act like you didn’t have a little crush on me in high school.” He stepped to take a picture of your plates, “Plus all I was gonna ask was for you to blow me.”

Watching him take photos of your plates, you began to sweat. Ward Cameron knew everyone, what would happen if everyone knew you were involved in a hit and run with his son?

“Fine.”

A smirk grew across his face, “Good girl.”

You watched intently as he undid his belt, looping it with precision to turn it into makeshift handcuffs.

“Turn around for me, baby.” He snapped the belt.

Your eyes widened, shaking your head. “We’re outside Rafe.”

Rafe pursed just lips, “It’s dark, turn or I’ll leave.”

Relenting, you turned around, presenting your hands to be tied with the belt behind your back. The blond turned you back to face him and pushed you onto your knees in front of him, only sheltered from the road by his truck.

“Now,” He ran his hand over his clothes cock before pulling it from his pants and boxers, “Suck.”

You stared up at him, hesitant, and his hand came to fist your hair.

“Fine then,” His opposite hand came to your lips, pushing a finger inside and opening your jaw. “Be good and take me.”

He pulled his finger out before thrusting his cock inside with force. He touched the back of your throat, and was salty on your tongue. You gagged as his tip brushed against your uvula, and he moaned, the fist against your scalp tightening.

Rafe pulled your head back, and tears ran down your face. He fucked back into your throat, feeling you gag and your throat contract around him. “That’s it…you fucking slut. Suck my dick.”

Feeling him throb in your mouth, you sucked harder.

You looked up at him, his hair disheveled and stuck to his forehead, chest fluttering, moaning your name. A flame struck between your legs at the sight. You liked it. You liked how he talked to you.

With a loud moan of your name, Rafe came down your throat, and you swallowed everything without being asked. His eyes widened at you.

“So dirty,” He cupped your face, smirking down at you, “I like you.”

Rafe pulled out of your mouth, tucking himself back into his pants. He helped you to your feet and untied your hands.

You started for your car immediately, confused and angry at yourself.

“Let me give you my number. Don’t pretend you’re not the whore we both know you are.”

tags: reply to any post to be added

@fangirlwithlou @officallyallyrose @cutesouls @buckysmainhxe @alinaharlow @maybankslover @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @outerbankspov @lexexo @bbycowboi @bungunz @notmetks @ajaxisbae @palmwinemami @rafecameronsslxt

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icarustypicalfall · 7 months

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rear view

rudy parra x reader

prompt by the beautiful @glitterypirateduck from her head canons right here <3

summary: your husband takes it on his behalf to fix your car, and mayne teach you a thing or two.

warnings: none, sfw, pure fluff, writer knows nothing about cars and used a YouTube video for names cuz i forget them a lot 💀

note: I couldn't spare time to write the other second parts to my other fics because much stuff is on mind (i blame courses but you didn't hear it from me) bare w me pook :0

"give me some morphine"

Summer felt ethereal, with cool nights spent in the warm embrace of your husband's hometown, reveling in each other's presence.

The majority of your time was devoted to hosting delightful gatherings, inviting friends over for barbecues. Among these occasions, you had the pleasure of encountering Rudy's colleagues, his brothers who held his utmost trust. You did enjoy these moments, but being alone with Rudy was an entirely different euphoria. He possessed a tender nature, a resolute man who wore his heart on his sleeve. This charismatic gentleman enchanted you effortlessly.

"mi cielo.. I have never witnessed a beauty like you before.. If heaven is real, your eyes are the windows"

Rudy was an enigma, a puzzle whose depths you could only admire, never fully decipher. How could the stoic sergeant, known for barking commands and battling cartels, be utterly captivated by you? He yearned for your attention, effortlessly remembering every tiny detail about you. Nevertheless, you had no complaints; he was a gift, a gracious blessing from Mother Nature to those less fortunate.

"Amor, it's burning out here. Please, avoid the sun," Rudy exclaimed, raising his gaze from the car hood, his brows furrowed in concern. Undeniably, it was a sweltering evening, a usual summer day in Las Almas.

You gracefully retreated, opting to perch on the doorstep, observing your husband as he toiled on your car.

Earlier, you had complained about the vehicle's malfunction, making Rudy take it upon himself to adress the issue.

He toiled shirtless, leaning against the imposing car. His bare back flexed with each forward motion, droplets of sweat adorning his scarred skin imparting an alluring radiance beneath the scorching Mexican sun. With a sigh, Rudy set aside the wrench and rested his hand upon the car's hood. He leaned slightly against the grille, inspecting something intently.

You smiled, sighing contentedly as you drew your knees closer to your chest, tenderly caressing your leg while tilting your head to the side. Observing your husband as he worked was your favorite activity, his focused traits and calm demeanor made you chuckle slightly. He was your beloved man.

Rudy glanced up, chuckling warmly as he motioned for you to approach. Curiosity piqued, you peeked beneath the hood, raising an eyebrow. Although you possessed some knowledge about cars (less than minimum, you have no clue how you got a driver license), you preferred leaving repairs to professionals.

Rudy gently clasped your hand, his calloused and now soiled palm enveloping yours as he whispered in your ear, "Well, amor, I believe I found the problem."

Guiding your hand, his fingers led yours to rest upon a yellowish handle. "Give it a pull," he instructed.

Confusion clouded your mind as you obediently complied. The handle swiftly detached, revealing a metallic rod coated with a residue akin to the oil that stained Rudy's hands. He held the object delicately, presenting it to you with a tender smile.

"This, amor, is a dipstick. We use it to monitor the oil level in the engine," Rudy explained, his dark eyes penetrating yours. Gripping the end of the dipstick, he pointed out the small perforations and minuscule markings.

"It is prefered to regularly check the fluids in the engine, imbalance, whether too little or too much oil, can lead to problems.

In your case, it seems there was insufficient oil. Do you see these maximum and minimum marks? They indicate the acceptable oil level."

His tone exuded confidence and playfulness as he explained. Rudy was surely quite advanced and had more knowledge than you did. He smiled, wipping the stick with a small cloth.

A faint blush tinted your cheeks as you nodded, acknowledging your negligence. Rudy erupted in laughter, his bright personality and humor filling the air. He returned the dipstick to its rightful place before turning his attention back to you.

"Well, amor, no need to panick. Now you know what to inspect before assuming the worst. Sì?"

Once again, you nodded, this time intertwining your fingers with his warm hand and tenderly caressing his cheek.

"Thank you Ru'... You waited so long to show off these skills, didn't you?"

"What skills?" he playfully queried.

"Fixing cars... You must be quite proud," you teased.

He chuckled, encircling his arm around your waist and drawing you closer for a kiss. His voice carried a mischievous undertone as he whispered, "Surely, I deserve a kiss after all, don't you think?"

*dying from how cute he is*

𓆩♡𓆪 kindly like and rebelog 𓆩♡𓆪

MASTERPOST

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bloodstainedsaint · 6 months

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loose lips sink ships (lewis nixon x medic! reader)

summary: lewis nixon's alcoholism has been getting worse. you, a medic of easy company, are responsible for the well-being of the men, so you're sent to babysit look after an inebriated lew.

word count: 2100+

warnings: pathetic attempts (multiple) at comedy, drinking, alcoholism, drunken love confessions, lil pining, lil angst, nixon being a lil shit and a cheater??? but his wife divorces him so idk

notes: sorry if this is sloppy 😭 writing dialogue is hard

Your first time speaking to Captain (actually, you weren't sure of his rank anymore— you'd heard he'd gotten demoted to Battalion S3 by Colonel Sink recently) Lewis Nixon was after Operation Market Garden, where he got lightly burned by a stray shot to his helmet. You recalled it going something like this:

“You’re lucky to be alive, sir,” you said at the aid station where the then Lieutenant Winters had sent Nixon to get his graze checked, though there was really no use for it.

“I sure feel lucky,” he responded with a weird, almost dazed stare at you, as if you were some kind of angel sent from heaven to save him from his minor injury.

You met his eyes with a slightly raised eyebrow and assumed that he was just coming to terms with his brush with death. “You'll be fine, sir. Just try not to be in the trajectory of any other stray bullets, and you'll stay that way.”

He nodded and procured a flask from his pocket. “You drink?”

You narrowed your eyes at the container. “I try not to on the job.”

“Well, cheers to being alive, then,” he said, taking a swig.

“...Cheers.”

Following that encounter, you found yourself worrying about the officer more than you thought was normal— if a medic being especially troubled over one soldier was normal at all. Your eyes would search for him in a sea of people to see how tired or hungover he appeared. Whenever you got a chance to talk to him, you would brew him coffee or tea to help with his hangovers, seeing as medicine was always scarce and never spare enough to freely hand out.

You weren't sure where your worry for his well-being came from, but whatever it was, it wasn't quelled by the way he would ask you to stay and chat while he finished his cup— if you weren't busy, of course. The wry grin he would occasionally flash at you was burned into your mind, and his sardonic wit along with his competence as an officer, regardless of his love for alcohol, was impressed upon you. In these fleeting moments of peace, you learned of his rather privileged upbringing, his military background, and that he had a family waiting for him back home. Despite not even knowing what your own intentions were getting close to him, when he told you that last fact, your heart sank a little in your chest.

Your concern for him grew with the recent news that his alcoholism had reared its head again while the company was sent to idly occupy Germany. Someone had broken into a drugstore earlier that week; you'd suspected it was Lew scrounging around for booze. Though the war was coming to an end, he’d been looking more exhausted and ill-tempered as of late. You had yet to really talk to him about how he was holding up; in the meantime, you had been eyeing him from afar, trying to gauge where he was physically and mentally, your heart breaking at how you rarely saw him smile or laugh anymore. Everyone in the company had changed after Bastogne, but you suspected it was his disastrous third combat jump that prompted him to hit the bottle this time.

Now in Landsberg, you were in the middle of playing cards with some of the men in your billet’s living room when Major Winters knocked on the doorway.

“(Y/N),” he called. “Could I speak with you?”

You placed your cards on the table face up, presenting your good hand to the men who groaned in unison at the sight. “Coming, sir.”

As Winters brought you down the hall, you pondered what could be so important that the Major would come personally to speak to you, of all people.

He stopped in the middle of the hall and turned to you, seeming to have read your mind. “It's about Nixon.”

Your eyebrows creased slightly in concern. “Oh. Nixon.”

“Yeah, you know him?” Winters offered a dry smile that you returned.

“What happened?”

“I'm worried about him. Ever since his jump with the 17th Airborne, he’s been drinking more than usual.”

You sighed and cast your eyes downward. “I've heard.”

“I’d like you to look after him for a while. For tonight, at least. Make sure he doesn't drink himself into a coma.”

“Me?” You looked back up at him. “Why not Doc Roe?”

“You’ve been taking care of him for a while, (Y/N). I've noticed.” He didn't sound accusing in the slightest, yet you felt your cheeks warm from embarrassment. Winters continued in a slightly more conspiratorial voice, “And Nix asked for you specifically.”

You fought the blush creeping up to your ears. “Is that right…I'll, uh, have to lord that over Eugene.”

The corner of Winters’ lips quirked up knowingly. “Of course.”

He placed a hand on your shoulder. “Good luck, Doc. He's in his room. You know how to get there.”

Winters turned and walked away, leaving you standing in the middle of the hallway. It was true that you knew which house he was quartered in; you made it a point to know ever since you began treating his hangovers. However, the thought of being alone with Lew was always nerve-wracking and had been from the start, for reasons you didn't have the courage to explore.

With a glass of water and a book in hand, anticipating him to be knocked out from all the liquor in his system, you knocked on the door to his room. As you expected, there was no response save for the soft snoring coming from within. You opened the door a sliver and found the floral-wallpapered room lit up with a bedside lamp and the moonlight pouring in from the open window as the day spanned into night. You spotted a messy-haired head poking out from under the strewn blankets and smelled whiskey in the air. Upon fully opening the door and entering the room, the snoring abruptly stopped. He slurred, half-muffled by the pillow his face was buried in, “Who's there?”

“It’s (Y/N),” you replied, turning on some more lamps around the space.

“Oh. Hey, (Y/N).” Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes and ran his hands over his face. It wasn’t the first time you'd seen him in just a tanktop and shorts, his dog tags dangling around his neck, but he had always been half-conscious from a hangover when you saw him like this. Not awake and actively drunk like he was now. “How're you?”

“You're on your way to liver failure, Lewis,” you said sternly as you pulled up a chair next to his bed. “As for me, I'm doing better than you right now.”

He pouted petulantly. “You only call me Lewis when you're mad at me.”

You shot him a look. “And why would I be mad at you?”

“I dunno, you tell me.” Nixon gave you a lazy smile.

You sighed, directing your glare to the bottle of whiskey on the nightstand, which you observed was not even his favorite brand of Vat 69. You handed him the glass of water. “Here, drink up.”

Squinting, he sniffed it. “It's not more liquor, is it?”

“No, it's motor fuel, now drink.”

“Oh no, not more ethanol,” he joked, raising the glass in a cheers motion before downing it and clumsily setting the empty glass on the nightstand. He kept his gaze on you as you sat down, opened up your book, and attempted to read, avoiding his stare.

Crossing his arms behind his neck at your efforts to ignore him, he leaned on the headboard. “What is that? Twain? Poe? Ah, Shakespeare? ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?’”

You spared a glance at him. “Sometimes I forget you're a scholar, Lew.”

“Ohoho. Try to play some Beethoven and tell me it's Mozart. I’ll figure it out”—he snaps—“like that.”

“Not in this state you will,” you glowered. Nix retained his expectant countenance, so you answered, “It's A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. Some of the guys got done reading it, so now it's my turn.”

He hummed. “What’s it about then, Miss (Y/N)? Enlighten me.”

“If you’d let me read it, then I could tell you,” you said, continuing in a lower voice, "How are you an intelligence officer if you're this mouthy when drunk...and you're drunk most of the time."

“You say somethin’?”

“Nothing, Lew.” You tried to take in the words on the page, but the way he was looking at you made your skin feel hot. Exhaling and setting down your book, you turned your focus to him.

“You still hiding Vat 69 in Winters’ footlocker?” you asked, silently cursing the satisfied expression that spread over his face at your attention.

“Wha, hey, how'd you know about that?”

“You told me. While half-asleep and hungover.”

His lips stretched into a smile as he seemed to recall. “That I did. See, the real shame is that there’s not a single drop of the thing in the whole damn country. So no, there’s no booze in Dick’s footlocker.”

You glanced again at the unfamiliar bottle of whiskey on the nightstand. “And that’s why you've been drinking alternatives?”

“Beggars can't be choosers.” He shrugged with a sluggish wave of the hand. “I'm half-convinced you and Dick are hiding some from me!”

You chuckled. “That's not a half-bad idea. It wouldn't stop you from getting drunk off other kinds of hooch, though. Speaking of… why'd you start drinking this time?”

“Oh, you know.” He gestured vaguely. “I got divorced. She sent me a letter in the mail. Real sweet of her.”

Your face fell, the mood suddenly not so lighthearted. “...I’m sorry to hear that, Nix.”

“It’s alright. Didn’t like her much anyway. She took the dog.” A beat of silence passed, and he gave you an unreadable look. “Was kinda waitin' for it anyhow.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Waiting for it? But before you could question it, you noticed his eyelids drooping as he uncrossed his arms from behind his neck to cover a yawn with his hands. You figured it was better to let him rest before pressing him on it.

“You settling down now?” you asked, getting up to brush his unkempt hair from his face and check his temperature with the back of your hand.

“Yeah,” he murmured. He settled into his bed before tiredly swatting your hand away, complaining, “I’m not hungover yet!”

A slight smile graced your face. “Not gonna piss into a cup this time, are you?”

“Maybe next time,” he said with a smirk before blearily staring at you for a while, like the same way he did all those months ago in Holland. Your heart felt strangled in your chest.

Clearing your throat, you turned and grabbed your book and the glass. “Goodnight, Lew.”

He blinked up at you. “You’re leaving?”

“I’ve got people who need me,” you said, a small laugh bubbling up from your throat.

“What if I need you?”

“Beside a hangover, you'll be fine,” you smiled, believing he was joking until you looked at him and found his face dead serious, almost pleading. Your eyes had to be deceiving you, right? Or maybe your mind was spinning things the wrong way.

He propped himself up on his elbows. “Before you leave," he started, breaking his gaze for a second before meeting yours. "You're really beautiful, you know that?”

You were stunned into silence with widened eyes, floundering for words. “Lew, I…”

“And don't say, ‘You’re drunk, Lewis, you don't know what you're talking about.’ I’ve liked you for months now, (Y/N). Sometimes it feels like I'm fighting this war for you, so we could be together after.” Somehow his voice was the steadiest it’s been the entire night, and that scared you.

You suddenly felt bashful, afraid he could hear your heart pounding loud in your chest. “I…like you, too, Lew.”

A soft beam adorned his flushed face. “And if I forget in the morning, I’ll just tell you again. I’ll tell you over and over until it's the only thing I can remember piss-drunk.”

“I’ll be making sure you're never piss-drunk again, but… I’ll remind you. Keep your word.” You leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“That you will,” he said impishly, grabbing you from around the waist and pulling you next to him in the sheets, his arms encircling your body.

“Hey!” you giggled, struggling against his bear-like grasp. “Can I at least get my boots off?”

He snickered into your hair and held you close.

“Nope.”

Bonus:

A couple of hours had passed, and there was no sign of Doc (Y/N). Figuring she was still with Nix, Dick decided to check in on them.

Knocking on the door and receiving no response, he let himself in, saying while surveying the room, “Doc, you still there— Oh.”

taglist: @mads-weasley

#band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #lewis nixon x reader #lewis nixon #hbo war #easy company #101st airborne #ron livingston #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers fanfic #hbo war fanfic #dick winters #richard winters #band of brothers imagine

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writefightandflightclub · 10 months

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Blorbo thought of the day #6 (this really is a short one): Two’s company

Summary: steamy little triple frontier imagine

Warnings: (smut themes) adult content, author chose not to use warnings. By reading this you are consenting to read adult materials. (Minors / ageless blogs interacting will be blocked.)

Imagine.

You’ve left your door unlocked, because you invited your current hook-up over to your place for sexy times. Why not?

You’re adorned in your most raunchy lingerie, arranged face down, ass up on the bed, your shapely rear end presenting and perfectly angled towards the door. Maybe you have even pushed your panties aside already. Shoved a finger or two or maybe even a dildo inside of yourself to get yourself ready, and God. He’s late, and you already have yourself on the brink of oblivion.

Why not? You were expecting things to go a very particular way tonight, and you don’t intend on being all that patient.

So, when you hear the latch click, and a deep voice greet you from downstairs, you of course shout “come on in”.

Naturally then, the next thing you hear is the creak of your bedroom door, being pushed unceremoniously open.

The next “next thing” you hear though, it’s safe to say, is not quite what -or who- you expected.

“Hey, do you still have those ladders in your-“

Santiago Garcia does not manage to finish his sentence.

“Fuck!” you hiss, as you realise what’s happened.

As you realise that your best buddy Santiago has walked in to your bedroom. Has seen everything, before you even had a hope of covering yourself. You didn’t even have the time to remove the dildo, or your fingers, or whatever, from your weeping cunt before he-

Wait. Why is he still standing there.

“-Shit. Santiago,” you hiss. “Forget you saw that,” you scramble, hastily flipping over, face feeling bright hot. Tugging a sheet over your body and barely managing to cover… anything at all, honestly. Basically giving him an eyeful of your tits now too.

He’s still stood there, and you both know he shouldn’t be.

But hnnnnngggg, you’re already all… wet, and he’s looking at you, and - holy fuck - he’s wearing his tool belt and he’s all sweaty from a day of DIY in the sun and he might be your best bud but goddamit somehow his gaze just…

…hits different all of a sudden.

Hits lower.

“Forget the ladders, hermosa,” he purrs, voice laden with desire. “You look like you’re in need of… help a lot more than I am.”

Your eyes lock.

He raises an eyebrow. Drags his tongue along his lip.

Fuck. Do you really want to do this?

From downstairs, there’s a voice. Someone announcing themselves - as though they’re expected.

Santiago’s head whips towards the sound.

“Wait.” His eyes flash with recognition. “Is that-?”

“-Yeah,” you offer guiltily, chewing on your bottom lip. Your stomach flips all the way over. “I’m, er… I’m waiting for Frankie.”

#triple frontier x reader #triple frontier #santiago pope garcia x reader

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communicationthroughlyrics · 5 months

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I Like Your Blood On My Teeth Just A Little Too Much - 12

You’re a former military, career oriented security executive who has made quite the living for yourself- but it has always been lacking. Your non-committal attitude has led you down a playgirl lifestyle, never really settling. What happens when your new boss throws you a curveball, and as a result? You end up hopelessly involved with a Hollywood starlet.

A/N: Sorry for the delay, everyone. It has been a rough go of things for me of late, and I haven't been up to writing. Still on the fence for this chapter, but needed to get it out of the way. Slightly shorter chapter.

2.8K Word Count

Ch 12: Whisper on a Scream, Doesn't Change a Thing

The mornings meetings went off without any snags. What Jim had told you earlier this morning was right, that they had verified that Steve was planning on doing something at one of the three appearances today. As suspected, Scarlett made it clear she wanted you present with her at all three. You were currently driving one of the blacked out Cadillacs in a procession that even the president would be envious of. Jim was in the vehicle behind you, your boss in front, and the team that had been assigned to driving duties in matching vehicles surrounding you. All told, there was 8 SUVs in this protective detail, as well as a team of people at each interview location. Scarlett was in the rear of your vehicle, a glass barrier between you both.

You arrived at the first location, her first interview with a morning show. Once you pulled up to the curb, you were quickly assessing the surroundings from inside the vehicle. You noticed a small group of people at the end of the street, and directed some of the team to keep a closer eye on them. Nothing being out of the ordinary, you got out of the vehicle, and walked over to the side Scarlett had been directed to get out of. The plan for today being that she would alternate between drivers. You first, Paul second and Jim last. The cars would also shuffle position, so it would be harder to keep track of her since the vehicles would be the most vulnerable.

It was still insane to you that an A-List celebrity required this much security, but you also didn’t want someone to be subjected to what Waters was capable of like you had been. You looked around once more, making sure nothing had changed, and then opened the door. She shuffled her way out, and you had to admit, her outfit for today was going to drive you absolutely up the wall. She was wearing a white top with a mesh lower corset, and form fitting black slacks, with some taller black heels. She smirked as she walked past you, noticing how your eyebrows moved behind your glasses. You rolled your eyes at her reaction, following close behind her, placing your hand on the small of her back and guiding her through the door to backstage.

“So serious, Y/N.” She smiled as the door shut behind you. You smiled, but didn’t say a word. The both of you went through the check in process backstage, met with the host and then followed the assistant back to the green room.

“Let me check the room first, Ms. Johansson.” You gently pull her back from the room, before opening the door yourself and stepping into the room first, checking in any places someone could be hiding. Once satisfied, you waved the woman into the room.

“What have I told you about calling me by my last name?” She asked, stepping past you and throwing herself down onto the sofa. You raised your eyebrow and smirked, before turning and stepping outside to the hallway. Your team had two people at each end of the hallway, and another two people across the hall from you. Knowing that there was that much outside of the green room, you stepped back in, closing the door.

You shifted to one of the corners, standing and watching her scroll through her phone, presumably going over the questions for today’s interviews. “You know, you don’t have to lurk in the corner like a creep, you can come sit down.” She looked at you over her phone, smiling at your stern expression. You didn’t make a move to sit down, so she stood and came over to you. “Y/N, seriously. You can sit. Please. I’m not going to do this all day with you lurking. It makes my anxiety worse.”

At this, you give in, not wanting her nerves to be any worse than they may already be. You circle around the sofa and sit yourself down, Scarlett joining you on the other side of the sofa. Knowing that there was still almost an hour before the interview, you felt like there was going to be some awkward silence ahead. You weren’t much for talking while on duty.

“It’s going to be miserable all day if you just sit in silence, Y/N.” She looks over at you, her arm perched on the edge of the sofa. “We’re gonna be back here for a bit.”

“I know.” You responded, keeping a neutral expression, staring straight forward to the pictures hanging on the wall in front of you.

“You know what, Y/N? That it’s going to be miserable or that we’ll be back here a while?”

“Both.” You see the blonde drop her head slightly at the comment, her demeanor shifting slightly.

“Not the being around you part, Scarlett.” You recover, looking down at the gloved hands crossed in your lap.

“What’s with the get up today? You trying to turn a look, or what?” She chuckles, slapping your shoulder lightly. The sudden shift causes you to wince slightly, but the actress misses this, to which you’re thankful.

“No, I’m not. I just need to be in clothes I can work in.”

“You make it seem like we’re going to be involved in a tactical altercation, Y/N. I don’t think we’ll be going to war.” She chuckled, smiling your way, but her smile dropped at the stony expression on yours. “Right, Y/N?”

“That depends, Scarlett. We don’t really know.” The look on her face made your stomach churn, you didn’t like her being this uncomfortable. But that’s why you're here. But the anxiousness that was creeping into her demeanor was unsettling, to say the least. “Do you need to go over any questions or anything, Scarlett?” You look at her, trying to break her mind free of whatever thought process she was having. She glanced at you, shooting a nervous smile back in your direction.

“Sure. Here’s my phone, these are the questions they’re supposed to ask me.” She handed the device over to you, turning to face you more directly, so you followed suit, inwardly grimacing at the shift of pressure on your chest. You begin rattling questions off, mixing them up like you were in a normal conversation. As you asked the questions, you would tail off asking others questions not on the list just to get answers to your own questions. Once you had been questioning her for around half an hour, you finally handed her the device and asked if she felt good with the questions. “Thanks, Y/N. I appreciate that.” She sends a small smile at you, which you return. You turn back in your spot, grimacing again at the shift. This time, the actress didn’t miss it. She reached out in your direction, grabbing onto your hand. You acted on instinct, pulling your hand away in pain.

“Fuck!” You yelp, standing, and instantly regretting the decision to move so quickly. You go over to the bathroom in the far corner of the room, and lean yourself against the counter, taking deep breaths to get the pain to subside.

“What happened, Y/N?” Scarlett followed you over to the bathroom, looking over your frame in concern.

“Just a rough night, Scarlett. It’s nothing.” You evened your breath out, finally feeling some relief from the renewed throbbing in your chest and hand.

“Seems like more than a rough night, Y/N.” She raised her eyebrow, causing your heart to flutter slightly at the sight of her before you. There was a sudden knock at the door, signaling that it was time for her to go on. “This will be continued, Y/N.” She turned, walking towards the door. You quickly stalked behind her, allowing your colleagues to flank her, while you watched the surroundings from behind.

You stayed concealed backstage, but maintained an eye-line into the audience and the other wing of the stage. As the interview wore on, your could tell Scarlett was becoming more relaxed. This was a double edged sword, you wanted her to be confident, but she needed to keep her own guard up as well. Once the tv spot was finished, she said her goodbyes to the host and other guest stars, and turned back towards you, and you shuffled her off set. You offered her a reassuring smile, and made your way to the garage where all the vehicles were staged. You began walking her to the SUV that Paul was driving, and she turned to look at you.

“I don’t want him driving me. I want you to drive me.” She whined, looking at you with the slightest puppy dog eyes she could muster. God, those eyes could melt the coldest of souls. You were already screwed, and you knew it.

“We can’t, Scarlett. You need to go with someone different every time. It’s protocol.” You maintained a stoic expression, turning her back to Paul’s Escalade and pushing her towards it slightly. “I will be in the vehicle behind you. And I will let you out of the car at the next interview. Okay?” You look at her, issuing her another reassuring smile, before opening the door for her and ushering her inside. She nodded, but still maintained the pouty look on her face. Shutting the door, you walked back over to your SUV, hopping in and starting it up. Paul issued the all clear after your staff checked all the vehicles, and you began driving to the next studio.

***

The next studio was more of the same, you would walk the set, your team was screening everyone that worked for the studio and the audience. You helped Scarlett run questions until the time for her to come on stage had come. This studio was much small than the last, which was a welcome break in the middle of the day, since it was easier to secure. You were virtually on stage with Scarlett for the interview, since the studio let you stay right by the last curtain behind set, and that was all of 5 or so feet away from her spot on set. You were surprised that the day had gone so smoothly up to this point, but didn’t dare to look into it too much, for fear of jinxing it and causing all hell to break loose. There was also the chance that they were just trying to get a rise out of everyone, to create a false alarm, so they could see what response there was. Honestly, you hoped it was neither.

You stood behind her, watching the interaction with the host, glancing out to the crowd every so often. Nothing was obvious as a threat, so you would return your gaze to Scarlett and the host, before scanning the intimate crowd once more. This process continued for the 30 or so minutes, allowing them to get all the press they wanted so they could clip and cut what they needed. Scarlett wrapped up her interview, and you shuffled her to the backstage green room, waiting for the landing area for the caravan to be cleared so you could journey to the furthest and last destination.

“So, Y/N. I bet you think I’ve forgotten. What happened last night to make it so… rough?” Scarlett questioned, keeping her back to you as she poured herself a water from the pitcher in the green room. When she turned around, there was a piercing look on her face, the gaze seeming to cut right through you.

“Scarlett, it’s really not anything you need to worry about.” Her gaze narrowed further at your lack of an answer.

“Y/N, that’s not an answer.”

“Seriously, Scarlett. It’s fine. I’m fine. Just a long night at the gym.” That answer seems to get her to back off, barely. She turns and sits herself on the arm chair closest to the door, staring directly at you. “Staring at me isn’t gonna change anything.”

“Fine. I'll figure it out myself.” She huffs. You shake your head and laugh, just as a knock erupted through the green room. You walk to the door, anticipating it to be a member of the team, letting you know the grounds are clear and everything is ready to go. When the door was cracked open, you were met with the poker faced expression of Jim.

“Good to go, Jim?” He shook his head, and quickly signaled for you to step out of the room. You glanced back at the actress, who now was scrolling through something on her phone.

“We have a problem, Y/N.”

“What happened, Grange?”

“Two of our scouts at the next location have gone offline. No comms. The other two have been searching for them, but there is no sign of them.”

“Two armed agents don’t just go missing, Jim.”

“I know, Y/L/N. That’s why I’m telling you…WE. HAVE. A. PROBLEM.” He punctuated the last bit of the sentence, pointing his finger at the ground. You run your fingers through your hair, looking towards the ground.

“Can we tell her agents that there is a chance the last interview has been compromised?” You ask, he shrugs.

“I don’t know, Y/N, they seem pretty adamant about her fulfilling the schedule today.”

“Shit. Can we set a decoy? See if we can lure someone out?” You think out loud.

“Waters will anticipate that. Can we pull everyone from the other two locations to go to the last one?” Jim asked.

“We have to, Jim. Something isn’t right.” You have a sneaking suspicion that there is something more to this, but at the moment, you have to work on the fly. “I’ll take Scarlet again. Let me check the cars myself- stay with her, please.” You run off to the enclosed garage where the three vehicles were staged- and inspected them from top to bottom. The lower ranking guards were shocked to see you rechecking the cars, but said nothing. You touched the earpiece in your ear, telling Jim to get everyone in here, and get Scarlett to you quickly. The faster you can do this, the better.

Everyone was quickly shuffled into the garage, with Scarlett wearing a concerned expression as she is whisked away to your Escalade. You hop in, before turning and smiling at her, trying to reassure her that everything was okay. You knew this drive would be the most dangerous, if something really is wrong. It covers the most ground, and will take the longest due to traffic. You text Jim, letting him know to have the other two vehicles drive separate routes, so all the vehicles get split up. You’re hoping a little misdirection works in your favor. Pushing the button to start the truck, you accelerate out of the now open garage, beginning the journey going the same direction as everyone else.

As you are approaching La Brea Ave., and Sunset, everyone splits. You turn, following Jims car a little bit further. You glance in the rearview mirror, the woman in back just staring out the window. You are planning to take the residential back way, avoiding the highway at all costs, and sticking to less than average ways to get to the last studio. Keeping your head on a swivel, you look for any vehicles that seem to be lingering or trying to stay close to you. Jim slows, switching lanes and shifting his vehicles position to be behind you. You accelerate though the intersection, as he continues behind you.

He suddenly accelerates, overtaking your position again, and almost cutting you off to get in front. You both approach the intersection that will either take you to the 101 Freeway, or up through a residential neighborhood, winding through the Hollywood Hills to arrive at the studio. Jims vehicle creep forward, signaling that it is going to get onto the freeway. As he begins to complete his turn, Scarlett gasps as a vehicle seems to come out of nowhere, plowing itself into the drivers side of the armored vehicle, wedging itself underneath and flipping the SUV onto its side. Your eyes couldn’t seem to tear themselves away from the vehicle, hoping you’ll see Jim try to open a door, or break a window.

“Y/N…” Scarlett tries to get your attention, resting her hand on your shoulder. “Y/N!” Just as she succeeds at breaking your attention on the vehicle, you notice someone clamoring out of the offending vehicle, limping their way towards you.

“Shit…”. You mutter under your breath, before making a difficult judgement call. You accelerated around the accident, the masked person from inside the vehicle lunging towards your SUV- causing Scarlett to scream in the backseat, as you drove up into the canyon, leaving the one man who you trusted most in this world behind, not knowing if he is ok.

CHAPTER 13

#communicatethrulyrics #wlw fanfic #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #scarlett johansson smut #scarlett johansson x you #scarlett johansson x fem!reader #scarlett johansson x reader #ILYBOMTJALTM

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lightvialamp · 4 months

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january 13 - wet || @jegulus-microfic || wc: 729 || pt 2. of yesterday's microfic, pt. 3

Regulus sighed. It had been three days since James had come up to him by the lake, and really, he had no idea what had come over him. He felt like he did during class presentations, where he went up to the front of the room with his notecards and then sat down ten minutes later with no recollection of what he had said and a vague uneasiness churning in his gut.

Well. It was out there now, and obviously James knew something. That something being predicated on the fact that Regulus had pretty much told him that he had a voyeurism kink—both watching and being watched, apparently—although this wasn’t something that he himself had explored. Or, really even known.

Regardless, James was staring again. It was constant now, a cursory glance around the great hall or in the corridor between Charms and Transfiguration a surefire way to catch hazel eyes already upon him. He didn’t know what to do about it. If he should do anything about it.

He sighed again when he glanced across the room at the Gryffindor table and found James clearly trying to pretend that he hadn’t just been staring holes into the side of Regulus’ head by putting a large bite of some sort of pie (that had obviously not yet cooled) in his mouth. Immediately, his eyes went large and round, mouth open and breaths coming quickly in the universal hmpha hmpha hmpha noise one makes when food is too hot. He choked it down, and, water glass in hand, proceeded to make a giant, wet mess of himself, the table in front of him, and the two unfortunate souls sitting to his left and right (Regulus noted with glee that one of them was Sirius).

Regulus watched as they pushed each other around trying to get out of the worst of the spill, smiles bright amid the chaos.

“What the hell are you looking at and why is it making you smile to yourself like a lovesick idiot?” came Barty’s voice from his right, accompanied by an elbow to the ribs. Barty followed his gaze and laughed derisively, sitting back in his chair. “You know you’re just as bad as he is, right?”

“Fuck off, Barty.”

“No, I’m serious. You’re over here making a fool of yourself as you watch him make a fool of himself, and I have to say. It’s hilarious.”

Regulus added a kick to Barty’s shin under the table for that. “Fuck off, Barty. Merlin.”

They sat there in silence for a moment before Regulus reared to the side, finger in Barty’s face—the traitor was already laughing at him again— to say, “And I am NOT as bad as he is.”

“Okay,” snorted under his breath was the only response Regulus got until a swift flick to the ball of his cheek had him bringing a hand to his face along with a muttered “Merlin, Regulus, calm the fuck down. All I mean is that you’re playing cat and mouse with the guy and it’s still unclear who’s who. And like. You can be whoever you want in this situation, but I’m guessing you’d rather be the cat.”

“Okay…?”

“Okay. So work your shit out and go fucking get him?” Barty sighed. “Why am I doing all the work around here?”

“Well your metaphors are a little convoluted for someone who hasn’t turned in a single piece of coursework this term,” Regulus retorted, feeling a little bit like a light bulb had gone off over his head at the same time as he had been slapped in the face. Though, he shouldn’t be surprised since that’s what most of his conversations with Barty felt like.

Barty just raised his eyebrows. Regulus sighed, and looked over at the Gryffindor table again. James’ eyes danced away quickly, as he knew they would, but there was an edge there that he hadn’t seen before.

“Fuck.”

“Mhm? See something new?” Barty already sounded smug, though Regulus was no longer paying attention to him and was, instead, cataloging all of his interactions with James from the past three days.

“Fuck.”

James was playing a game. Or, at least continuing the game that Regulus had started—and thought he’d ended—in the clearing by the lake. And now that Regulus knew that they were playing a game, well, he wasn’t about to lose, was he?

#unfortunately. or fortunately. depending on how you look at it. this will need a third part #regulus sighs a lot in this one #just btw #anyway #moving back to school today wish me luck #jegulus #james x regulus #jegulus microfic #sunseeker #starchaser #marauders #marauders fic #my writing #vee's microfics

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picklesonjupiter · 5 months

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On AO3, for @hp-yuletide-bliss

Severus knew better than to pester his parents for presents for Christmas. On Christmas morning, he never awoke to wrapped gifts under an evergreen tree or a stocking. Unlike at Lily’s home, his home was never decorated for the holidays. It was a hostile environment, devoid of holiday cheer.

They lived a frugal life, never going on unnecessary trips and never eating out. Their money was spent on food, second-hand clothes, and medical bills for his mum. (His father also spent a large amount of the money on booze.)

One luxury he enjoyed was the hot cocoa his mum bought from a diner. The food and the beverages weren’t spectacular, but spending the day with his mum without his father was enjoyable.

The diner was a regular haunt for them every Christmas Eve. Severus knew the owners as well as their children. Mrs Batley was a kind lady who often pointed out that Severus needed to eat more. In the end, she would bring out more food than they ordered and give it to them for free. Mr Batley once gifted him gloves and a scarf because he hadn’t worn any. The children were a few years younger than him, so he never grew too close to them. However, he did help one of them with their winter assignment.

Even after his mother's death, he returned every Christmas Eve. It was his way of honoring his mum.

That diner became special to Severus, and he refused to share it with anyone else, not even Lily. Therefore, for him to be visiting there with Potter was monumental.

At the behest of Dumbledore, Severus took custody of Harry Potter when the Dursleys died in a car accident. He wasn’t looking forward to looking after a spoiled child, but what arrived at his doorstep was a terrified little boy, looking no older than six when he was actually nine years old.

Potter refused to eat anything Severus offered him, only eating the leftovers and stealing crumbs when he thought Severus wasn't looking. Tired of trying to force the child to eat, Severus decided to take him to the one place where food felt like safety and home.

“Hello, Severus.” He was greeted with a kind smile as he entered the diner. "Who is this darling boy that you brought with you today?”

The boy crossed his arms defensively and hid behind his unruly hair.

“This is Harry. My new ward.” Severus guided Potter into his usual booth before ordering for them. “Two hot cocoas, my usual, and what would you like?” He looked at the boy, who was staring at him with wide, green eyes.

“Um, dunno. What’s good?” A famished look crossed his face.

“Just about everything my husband cooks is good, but just for you, I'll order the best. How do two eggs, sausages, and toast sound?”

The boy nodded his approval.

Mrs Batley went off to the kitchen.

“Thank you,” the boy mumbled.

“Why are you thanking me?” Severus asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I know I was a nuisance for not eating what you cooked. I don’t deserve to eat out, but here we are on Christmas Eve. You should be with your family or friends instead of taking care of a useless boy.”

Severus sighed.

As the Head of Slytherin, he dealt with children from less than ideal homes, but they were easier to deal with as he didn’t need to raise them. Teaching was bothersome enough, and now he had to worry about rearing Harry Potter, the boy revered throughout the British magical world.

“You have not inconvenienced me, Mr Potter. I come here every Christmas Eve. You may ask Mrs Batley if you do not believe me.”

“Oh,” the boy said, his cheeks flushing.

“Besides, if you will not or cannot eat the food I have prepared, I must accommodate you. You are in my charge now, and I refuse to neglect my duty.”

The misgiving lingering on Potter’s face dispersed, and as immense relief seemed to overwhelm him, he slumped in his seat.

Mrs Batley brought out the hot cocoas while they waited for their food. Potter’s face lit up in delight, as if tasting something sweet for the first time.

“It’s good. Never had it before.” Potter licked his lips, not squandering a single drop of the drink.

Severus grimaced at the boy’s lack of table manners. If Potter was to survive in the pure-blood society, then Severus would need to teach him. The journey would be long and arduous, but for now, all he had to worry about was feeding the boy.

When the food arrived, Potter waited for Severus to eat before he touched his own. He doused his food with syrup and ate a forkful of the food. Severus smirked when Potter went for a second bite of his food.

“Pace yourself. You don’t want to make yourself sick.”

Potter heeded his warning and savored his food carefully.

After they finished eating, they left the diner full and satisfied.

“Can we come back next Christmas Eve?” Green eyes glistened with hope.

His tradition with his mother now seemed to have become a tradition with Harry Potter.

“You’ll come with me every year.”

Potter grinned. The corners of Severus’ lips tugged upwards into a faint smile.

#HP Yuletide Bliss 2023 #severitus #severus snape #harry potter

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gasolineghuleh · 3 months

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Fancy A Fleshy?

So I ask you fucking HEATHENS for a drabble and this is what came out first. I gave myself a 10 minute timer and just wrote what came to mind. It's barely edited, but it's here.

I'm planning on doing one a day.

no miners down here, no gold in these hills, i swear

Copia rolls over in bed, flinging a forearm over his eyes in a desperate attempt to force himself to fall asleep. The lack of any kind of meaningful love, on both ends of the equation (in Copia's mind, anyways), has completely ruined him. Sure, a one night stand every now and then takes care of some base desires, but when even that option goes kaput for an indeterminate amount of time, it's hard not to give up all hope.

NO! Now isn't the time to be thinking about that. Before falling down the rabbit hole of being a cult figurehead, his focus was never this wishy-washy or based entirely on other people's perception of him. Now he can't help but wonder what they all think when they see him pass through the halls in couture robes. All these thoughts are the products of sleeplessness, he just needs to force his brain to shut the fuck up and drift off. He's about ready to cover his head with his pillow just to break up the monotony of his ever-present thoughts when there's a knock at his bedroom door. He groans internally, wondering why someone would try and bother him this late. It isn't that he doesn't like company or has anything against whoever might be on the other side of the heavy door, but right now what he truly wants most is to cum balls deep in a woman and then sleep for the next year.

Copia swings his legs over the side of his bed and grabs the heavy satin banyan from the edge of his mattress. He ties the strings in a bow around his waist before putting the matching sleeping cap back on and adjusting his robe once more to make certain that he's decent. When the door swings open, it's none other than one of his favorite Sisters, looking more than appetizing.

She says, "I came by for two reasons, I wanted to apologize to you again about earlier tonight and see if you were perhaps wanting to make up with a little... fun, so to speak."

The last bit catches him off guard. Last he had heard, this particular pretty Sister was bedding down with one of his more burly Ghouls. Now it seems that she's seeking that same rough treatment and he is more than willing to let her have it, not to mention get to release. Still...

The clock on his mantle loudly chimes the hour: 3 am.

He needs to be awake by 5...

"Sister," he starts, a placating smile on his lips, "I'm afraid I have to decline. I am old, you know, and it is past my bedtime." The Sister looks disappointed momentarily but recovers quickly, nodding. "Perhaps... if you wanted to come and wake me?" he finishes with a raised eyebrow.

The Sister tilts her head and shifts her eyes to the ceiling for a moment, thinking. She shrugs a second later, "I mean, sure. Waking Papa, it would be an honor, anyhow. I'm sure you'll be a great breakfast."

He laughs and taps the pad of his finger to her nose, "I look forward to tomorrow then, Sister. Goodnight." As she turns to leave, he gives her rear a quick swat which earns him a playful glare.

Before she turns to leave for good, this time with a wry smile, she responds, "Goodnight, Papa."

When the Sister's footsteps become distant down the stone hall, he closes the door, locking it tightly. He won't need much more sleep than what he already planned to get, but the thought of a bedmate, the rhythmic weight of her on his chest as he rises and falls with his breath is enough to speed up his resolve to finally try and sleep. He crawls back underneath the covers and shuts the lamp off by his bedside, but immediately wriggles a hand through the thin gap in between his mattress and box spring in search of his plastic... device.

In terms of making sure his cock received at least some stimulation on a nightly basis, his first question was how to not-quite cheat on whomever he happened to be sleeping with at the time without actually breaking the relationship. While that fulfilled some of his own fetishistic wants, he was more in the need of something close to how a real woman would feel, but not the potential cataclysm that came afterward.

His hand firmly grasps the handle of the fleshlight and he props it up with the held of some pillows and dirty talk that only he can hear. Copia's cock is already straining at the button of his sleep pants and he pulls them down gratefully, hissing through his teeth when the cool night air kisses his cock. His fingers trace along his shaft and his balls hang heavily beneath him as he situates himself in a semi-missionary position with the toy. It isn't too often that he gives himself the time to masturbate these days, what with his work mostly done at all hours of the night and early morning with practically nobody to keep him company when the sun goes down.

A pump of perfectly placed lube into his palm and he's ready to go, slicking up his cock in a swift and practiced motion. The shaft of his cock slides perfectly against his palm, the glide eased by the lubricant and the borderline desperation in his movements. The Sister in the hallway... it isn't like he's never noticed her before-- anyone with eyeballs would notice tits and an ass like that, even through the black habits and veils. When they'd parted ways, there was a... change to her demeanor. She seemed far more coy and her hips walked with a newfound sense of confidence. Is it cocky of him to think that he did that to her? Possibly, but at the same time... it's also likely true. He hasn't seen anyone else lately have that effect on a Sister like that. Not since he became Papa.

Another shake of his head and a press of his hips. He groans, chest deep, as he situates his cock into the toy.

"Fuck," he breathes out. A gentle rock of his hips to make sure that he's situated properly and then a steady thrust. With his eyes closed, it's so easy to imagine someone else, a body rocking above him, riding him, using him for her pleasure. He moves his other hand up to his chest and tweaks his nipples, rolling them between his fingers and thumb. The light stimulation makes him shudder and his balls tighten, but he needs more than just this, he needs to feel like he's fucking someone.

He starts to imagine what it'd be like if that Sister were here with him now, what she'd sound like as she fucked herself on his cock. Would she make the same little noises he did, would she bite her lip and toss her head back, or would she be demanding, pinning him down and riding him until her thighs quaked with overstimulation? Copia's breathing grows heavier as the heat begins to coil in the pit of his stomach and he grips the base of his cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. It's hard not to think about all the possibilities of what it would be like to be with her, to know her, to hold her, to taste her-

A breathy gasp from his throat and he feels his body begin to tremble, the tell-tale sign that he's close to cumming, close to tipping over that edge into the oblivion of pleasure and--

His door creaks open behind him.

"Papa? I hope it's okay, I don't think I can wait until-" The voice stops dead in its tracks and Copia feels the blood drain from his face.

"I, uhm. I can come back?" she suggests somewhat sheepishly, despite offering the same thing only moments before. Copia rolls over and immediately covers himself with his blankets. It's a useless move, seeing as he's still quite obviously... erect... and his potential bedmate has already seen him in the process of getting himself off. Not only that, but the Sister is now blushing the same color as Primo's robes and trying not to look at him.

"It's alright, you can come in," he says, his voice coming out much hoarser than he intended. The Sister nods and enters his room, locking the door behind her. She shuffles forward, her black habit swaying as she moves. The closer she gets, the more the blush on her cheeks becomes visible and the more embarrassed she seems to become. He's never seen her quite like this before, so shy. Normally she's a fiery spitfire, someone who's able to keep him on his toes and who doesn't take any of his bullshit. But right now she seems almost like a little girl, someone who's never had the pleasure of a man's touch.

As she walks towards him, the first thing that hits him is the smell of her perfume.

#lorraine writes #ghost bc #the band ghost #popia #papa emeritus #cardinal copia #copia #papa emeritus iv #papa iv #papa 4 #era 4 #fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost bc fanfic

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wastelandmoony · 3 months

Text

Chapter Twenty-Six : Sweet Jane

Summary: In honor of my birthday, here's a short chapter about dr*gs =)

Characters: Remus Lupin/Reader, Sirius Black/Reader (no use of y/n), James Potter, Petter Pettigrew, Regulus Black, Marlene McKinnon, Mary MacDonald, Lily Evans

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI; mild dr*g use

Déjà Vécu Masterlist

Companion Playlist

Read on AO3

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April 4th, 1976

The pressure of their impending O.W.L.’s was threatening to crush her. Lily and Remus felt it too, and the three of them had begun to spend most of their free time in the library revising, and once Spring reared its mild head, they moved the group outside to at least receive some small amount of fresh air and vitamin D. As the weeks drew closer to the start of examinations, some of the others began to join them, Mary was the first, followed quickly by James once he realized Lily was involved. Sirius showed up now and then, but he couldn’t be arsed to study in the slightest, and usually ending up complaining or goofing off until he had convinced the rest of them to wrap it up for the time being.

Today was one of those days.

Her and Remus had spent the entire morning on the second floor of the library, quizzing each other on charms. Sirius, looking for James, had found them and decided (through her convincing) that he should probably study just a little bit.

It lasted 20 minutes until he was leaning back in the chair and charming paper airplanes to dive-bomb students on the lower level.

“Sirius,” she tried to sound as nice as possible, though at the moment she could throttle him.

“Yes, Yellowjacket,” he gave her the most innocent eyes, the picture of grace and decorum, as she heard another muffled “ouch!” from the floor below.

“You should really be focusing on your O.W.L.s, they’re important.”

He rolled his eyes, “I know, you’ve both made that abundantly clear. Besides, exams aren’t until June, I’ve got plenty of time to revise.”

She was too tired to argue with him, knowing that it was going to fall on deaf ears anyway, and instead went back to her notes.

After a few minutes of Sirius drumming against the table, he leaned forward and tapped Remus with his foot.

“Mooooooony,” he sang, “I think you’ve studied enough, let’s find Prongs and swing by the greenhouses—“

“The greenhouses? For what?” She raised an eyebrow at him. Sirius hated Herbology, and he had always been very vocal about it.

He crouched lower towards the table, as if about to convey some big secret.

“I’m surprised you don’t know,” he whispered smugly, “Rumor has it, Richie Abbott’s been growing and selling muggle marijuana out of Greenhouse 3.”

“Richie Abbott?” Her jaw dropped, “Prefect, Richie Abbott?”

Sirius leaned back in his chair again, arms folded behind his head, “The very same.”

“And who did you hear this rumor from?”

He tipped the chair back on two legs, the old wood groaning slightly, “Some moody half-blood with a lunar affinity.”

Her head snapped to Remus, who was presently attempting to hide behind a textbook.

“Remus Lupin!” She hissed. He looked at her sheepishly from over the pages.

“Have you been buying drugs from my house Prefect?”

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, “I may have been…partaking in the horticultural excellence that is Hufflepuff House…”

“Do not play that game with me,” she closed the book on the table and began packing up her bag.

Remus grabbed his books and parchment, “Oh come on, don’t be upset! I just…needed to relax—it helps.”

Throwing the strap of her book bag over a shoulder, she turned to give him an incredulous look, “I’m not upset.”

“Could’ve fooled me…” Sirius grumbled.

“I’m annoyed that you didn’t ask me,” she said pointedly, watching as both of their faces slackened, “I know multiple housemates that grow, and I also know for a fact that Richie Abbott is a scheming arsehole and definitely overcharging you.”

The two boys stared at her in disbelief, and before either could speak, she turned and strode down the shelves and left the library.

She didn’t get far until they caught up, jogging up beside her outside the Artithmancy classroom.

“We’re sorry—“ Remus breathed as she continued to walk through the crowds of students.

“You just want me to help you get better weed,” she squeezed in-between two groups of Ravenclaw third years.

“Of course we do!” Sirius threw his arms out, and Remus gave him a glare that said please shut the fuck up, “…but we’re also really sorry.”

She hummed as they rounded the Central Hall stairs, where she saw a familiar red head speaking to someone off to the side of the corridor.

“Hey Lils,” she stopped beside her friend, happy for the distraction from the two morons trailing after her like needy puppies.

“Oh…hey!” Lily seemed nervous, and when the realization of who she was talking with sunk in, it all made sense.

Severus was sneering at them, eyes dragging to Remus and Sirius behind her.

“Oh Lily,” he patronized, “I’ll never understand why you still surround yourself with this…ilk.”

“Sev please,” Lily whispered, “they’re my friends.”

“Speak up Lils,” Sirius moved beside her, eyes narrowed at the Slytherin, “I don’t think Snivellus can hear you behind that layer of grease coating his head.”

Severus took half a step forward, “Watch yourself, blood traitor.”

Sirius didn’t back down, instead opening his mouth to retort.

“—Enough,” she grabbed his elbow and began to steer him towards the door at the end of the corridor.

“Always good to see you, Sirius. I’ll be sure to pass along your best to your family,” Severus called after them.

Sirius whirled around, breaking her grip, but Remus was there in an instant, pushing his friend around and through the door at the end of the hall.

Outside in the courtyard, Sirius growled in frustration.

“What a fuckin’ slimy—“

“Don’t let him get to you, he’s just a pathetic little weasel,” she slipped her arm back through his again, steering him towards the glass building across the yard.

“Where are you headed?” Remus asked from behind, still wary of letting Sirius out of his sight.

She turned to glance at him from her peripheral, “The greenhouses.”

Sirius looked at her with raised brows, “I thought you were mad at us?”

“Oh I still am,” she smiled sweetly, “and the only thing that will fix it is to watch you two idiots buy overpriced dirt weed from a pompous pretty boy—”

From behind, she heard Remus let out a low laugh.

A smile grew slowly on her face, “—and if you’re nice, maybe I’ll share my top secret Hufflepuff contacts with you.”

Sirius grumbled something that sounded an awful lot like evil woman, making her grin wider.

#sirius black x reader #sirius black fluff #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x oc #sirius black fic #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black imagine #sirius black angst #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x oc #remus lupin fic #marauders fanfiction #marauders era x reader #marauders era fic #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fanfiction

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numbugwritingblog · 3 months

Text

Welcome to the New Realm! (Chapter 4)

Previous Chapter

Index

---

04/05/2018

Ah, the potion of waking.

While it cannot stave off sleep indefinitely, it’s more than a suitable option when you only need to stall sleep for one extra day.

Jett knew it was the last potion he was provided for a reason, so that Grace could at least afford him the chance to relax from the radio. Indeed he drank it all down at once, giving Grace a distinctly casual kiss on the cheek before teleporting off.

Indeed, Jett knew that Grace would not be offended by that like most people would, that was as usual of a goodbye as they ever gave.

Trailing a finger along his bag, checking that he had all of his potions at the ready Speed, Strength, Echolocation, Tracking, Reverse Injuries, Invisibility, Teleport Sense, Reverse Injuries…

Yep, check.

Oh?

There’s a potion of Crustacean Strength, too. He was not going to get up close against Scythe, but he supposed it’s there if he needs it.

Finally, he checked his spare ammo and emergency vials of arcane energy - he still did not understand how any mage can do that yet alone Grace, he’s tried to store arcane energy like that and kept accidentally casting spells.

All good.

So Jett began walking forwards towards where he can tell Scythe’s presence is. The short but uneventful walk was quickly stopped as his echolocation picked up two people, with something in their hands - presumably guns by the way they were carrying it and their posture. “Halt! Identify yourself!”

Jett stopped as instructed, waiting patiently. “General, another intruder is present.”

Even behind his sunglasses, his raised eyebrow was barely visible to them. “Are the other intruders one who speaks like an animal and another who’s been described as pale? I’m here to stop them.”

“Stay right there!” Soldiers alerted.

Well cooperation’s out of the question now. Bullets could be a threat to him, but with his potions readied up hitting him in a vital area is an unrealistic problem. Still though, best to avoid conflict.

“Sure, I’ll wait right here. You don’t mind if I take a drink, right?”

“I guess that’s fine…”

Good. Jett trailed the potions carefully, selecting the potion of invisibility and drinking it right down. He could feel his body - skin, internals, even his eyes - shifting and morphing to match the changes made by the potion.

Light no longer reflected off of him (nor his clothes, after the New Realm experimented with the spell for about 300 years - he would’ve hated the idea of stripping entirely just to use this), instantly rendering him invisible.

“Open fire!”

Jett leapt right past them before they could even pull the trigger, leaving the two of them shooting at nothing.

Being invisible also meant being blinded, but that didn’t mean anything to someone who was already blind.

But it did mean that Jett had to be far more stealthy from here on, largely relying on foreign sounds for his echolocation to avoid giving himself away.

Not that he was particularly worried, he’s trained in invisible stealth precisely as one of the few mages who could utilise it without drawback, and that’s with the New Realm knowing that it’s realistically possible. No, his only concern was how his targets would deal with him.

Afterall, he knew Valentine’s speciality…

---

This treasure hunt was nearing its end.

Valentine made no attempt at stealth - she didn’t need to with her bodyguards and her magic combined - instead casually walking forth with Scythe in the front. Trailing right behind was an absolutely massive lizard, carrying a large, two-handed axe in one hand.

Her excitement at being so close contrasted with his dull expression, despite doing everything he could to guard the rear end.

Not that there was much need. Scythe’s magic was a perfect counter to firearms, most soldiers only getting a single shot before she reflects it into a vital organ and striking them dead immediately.

Indeed, these ten guards in the hallway in front of them were technically the greatest threat they’ve faced so far.

Yet eleven bullets was all it took to incapacitate them, and Scythe took the moment to slice into each and every one, the rapid necrosis doing the job of killing them.

“It would be more efficient to let them live,” the lizard at the back spoke up, his helpful words in direct contrast to the venom in his voice.

“Thoroughness is of the utmost importance until we find the Final Spell. A living soldier could serve as a distraction or even speak on their strange devices to destroy it.” Besides the cruelty behind killing everyone they came across, Valentine had no reaction to any of it, besides one. “Besides, none of them are of any value to us alive. This is their punishment for daring to oppose us while they’re as weak as they are.”

The lizard let out a low growl, glaring directly at Valentine, gripping his weapon.

Valentine stopped, prompting Scythe to stall in kind. She turned to the lizard, grinning wide. “Well, Winter Tundra, you wish to oppose me?”

The lizard, codenamed Winter Tundra, let out a low growl in response, gripping his weapon - the posture making it clear he was quite capable of wielding this two-handed weapon with one hand. Then he ceased, anger fading away as he lowered his stance.

“Good boy.”

Anger flared back up, Tundra swung his weapon without a moment’s hesitation towards Valentine! Nobody demeans him like that!

The weapon passed through Valentine like she wasn’t there, before she approached him and flung a pin-point “needle” - one that was pure black as it pulled in nearby light - which pierced through Tundra and knocked him down onto his hands and knees.

Effortlessly defeating him, she put a foot on top of his head. As she looked down to him she grinned wide. “What are you?”

Tundra growled in a low tone.

“Say it.”

He hated this with every single fibre of his body, and yet he could not disobey. “... I’m a good boy.” Just the words sickened him.

“No, you’re a naughty boy, thinking you stood a chance against me. Remember that for next time.”

Tundra growled once more, and yet stayed still. Even as Valentine put her foot off of his head he remained still.

Valentine let out a small chuckle. A chuckle that instantly stopped. “Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to hear you, Jett?”

Silence - and yet all three of them could tell, getting into position. The fact that Scythe and the lizard man were both staring at him told Jett that they had trained in fighting while blinded, exactly as he had assumed. There was no point in hiding from them.

“I don’t know who you are, but there’s very few people who know my real name, I’ve made sure of it. Scythe, reduce it by one.”

Forgot who he was? Jett reached for his gun, and the auto-aim flicked his arm right out to aim right at Valentine. “You really don’t remember me? Because I’ve never forgotten you…” It took him a moment to focus, his aim flickering over to Scythe instead.

Scythe walked past Valentine and Tundra, and yet she did not leap in yet. This witch hunter has fought her twice, and lived both of them. It’s likely that he was already expecting her to act hyper-aggressive, and so she wouldn’t be able to overwhelm him.

Jett fired out a single shot and dodged the incoming reflection easily. He did not approach nor retreat, however. When both of them could teleport, such movements only mattered from moment to moment.

It was then Scythe teleported, Jett’s automatic aim flicking right behind him - forcing the lurcher to awkwardly twist his body just to avoid injuring himself - a moment that allowed her to strike into him with her scythe, immediately kicking him away towards Valentine.

A free victory on a silver platter, and yet Valentine did nothing.

As such Jett could heal himself up quickly with one of his healing potions. Then he got back up to his feet, swinging at Valentine.

As he swung through, she briefly vanished from his echolocation before promptly reforming. With that alone he could tell that she was either teleporting or becoming non-solid.

Scythe charged in at the attack on Valentine, hissing loudly.

Jett leapt away from the attack, landing on the ground before unloading his entire clip at once. Every shot at him he had to avoid, but he jumped ahead in the way of Valentine and her silent enforcer.

They went through Valentine, like Jett had predicted. But they struck the lizard well and truly, but then he heard the shells land on the ground.

Winter Tundra was not harmed by the barrage of bullets.

That could be bad.

Growling, he lifted up a weapon to attack, only to be stopped by Valentine raising her hand. “Stand aside, Winter Tundra.”

Jett ducked underneath Valentine’s swing, swinging his gun into her with enough force to send her colliding with the roof. He leapt up to finish the blow, only for Scythe to teleport away once more.

Jett collided against the roof before launching off just as easily, landing on his feet. He launched towards one wall in this hallway, and then the other, and then back to the first one, each leap sending him closer to Scythe.

She swung her scythe to defend herself, Jett leaping onto the side of it, pushing himself off the inner end of the blade to punch her in the face.

But even with the impact Scythe was not mindless, lifting the scythe just enough to cut to his arm. “Dammit,” Jett muttered, shuffling into his bag for another potion.

She knew it was another healing potion, and so without wasting a beat she thrust straight into the glass container.

She only realised her mistake once the glass bottle shattered. Jett dropped the already empty potion before it even collided, as instead his hand swung down to catch the wooden stafflike part of the scythe and pulled it in with all of his force.

His kick to the face was enough to forcibly drop her grip on it, and he quickly dropped his gun to have a free hand in order to bring out an actual healing potion, uncorking it with his teeth as he drank it down.

Before Scythe could get close Jett swung it 180 so that the blade end faced her. This wasn’t good, but she has had her blade stolen from her before. She can-

“That’s enough.”

Scythe immediately backed away, glaring at Jett - and at her own weapon.

“I’m impressed, Deadeye.” Immediately, Jett knew what that meant. “Your recruitment shall begin now.”

He had only one option.

He threw the scythe directly at Tundra, prompting the giant lizard man to defend himself while Scythe simultaneously dashed in to grab her weapon.

Jett then teleported straight to one of the dead soldiers, rapidly feeling for the speaker and gripping it tightly. “Destroy the final spell! It should be an old parchment with unknown-!”

He was knocked off of his feet from an attack by Valentine, flung across the hallway until he collided with the opposite wall. “If you’re lucky they won’t destroy it before I’m done with you!” Valentine hissed out as she formed more “needles” in the small gaps between her fingers, each one held aloft purely by her magic. Even she didn’t want to touch them.

Jett coughed, grinning wide despite the attack that sent him tumbling. “Clock’s ticking, then.”

Valentine wordlessly glared at the still-invisible Jett. Walking towards him. She was furious, and her silence alone told Jett just how much.

And yet…

“Winter Tundra, you handle recruitment. Scythe, search for any leads to the Final Spell. With any luck I’ll have everything I need by the day’s end.”

Jett slowly got to his feet, grinning wide in the knowledge that his plan worked, quickly teleporting behind Valentine and Scythe to ensure neither of them would strike him as they passed by.

Then his grin faded.

Everything she needed? No, that meant…!

Jett jumped back to avoid a heavy swing of the axe, feeling a cold chill spread out as he dashed away.

Tundra lifted one hand from his axe, swinging it out to flick out a bitter spray of ice cold water at Jett.

Contact instantly made him start shivering, hypothermia was suddenly a concern when it wasn’t moments ago. “Grr…”

Krios then lifted an arm up, the cold water around Jett instantly freezing into ice and leaving him trapped in place. “You’re lucky that she wanted you recruited, otherwise I’d have frozen you on the spot. Actually…”

He paused, thinking through what he was saying.

“... No. No, you’re not lucky at all. Death is better than this.”

Jett needed to get out of here!

He needed to save Grace and-!

If he just teleported to them, Tundra is going to follow and then him and this mystery foe will just team up…

Jett needed to go somewhere else.

He lifted his arm to cast a teleport spell.

Only for his arm to freeze. He let a sharp inhale at the sudden sting of the chilled ice, unable to break free.

Tundra let out a huff as he finished the spell, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, but I cannot let you escape this… ‘recruitment’.” His gruff tone softened up the last word, and - even though Jett wouldn’t be able to see it - he looked at Jett with soft eyes, the harshness he had for Valentine replaced with sympathy.

Jett grunted again, gripping his gun with his free hand. Immediately he pulled the trigger, letting the auto-aim take complete control as it harshly flicked his arm towards himself, a single bullet flying out to hit the icy shell trapping his arm.

The arm holding the gun was frozen in response. But it was what Jett needed.

With his hand free of the frozen ice, it meant his hand was completely dry.

He reached down to his belt of potions, pulling out one before Tundra could freeze the rest and downing it immediately, so frantic that some spilled over his lips and he even coughed up a bit that threatened to go into his lungs.

Tundra pulled his axe out of the ground, charging at Jett to swing down on him again.

Deliberately avoiding lethal strikes, he swung into Jett’s gun arm, making the lurcher yell out in pain.

And he continued yelling, his good arm starting to shake.

“It’s futile,” Tundra said softly, kneeling. “The only choice I can give you is to go whole or to go with broken bones.”

Jett continued to yell out in pain, something growing across his arm. Hard, inflexible, brown. It shattered the ice covering his arm, layer by layer, as it slowly took shape. His arm had grown far larger, resembling that of a crustacean like a crab or scorpion.

Jett let out a small chuckle, his teeth still bared to keep himself through the pain. “Alright then. Let’s break some bones.”

His only hope was that he’d be able to get to Grace and Sal in time.

---

Scythe wasn’t even checking which doors were locked and which weren’t. Just one quick slice at the hinges was all it took to send each of the doors to drop down and fall over - no matter whether they were reinforced or not.

Those who so much as raised a weapon at Scythe met a grisly, painful death. But those who weren’t a threat weren’t treated as such.

To an outsider observer it might appear that Scythe was wildly trashing each room she was visiting, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. She was searching. Searching for what will have text from a New Realm language on it.

Room after room.

Kill after kill.

Document after document.

She came up empty.

This next room didn’t even have anyone armed. These scientists backed up and hid in a corner, one brandishing a pipe as a makeshift weapon. They were all in a corner, they weren’t a threat.

As usual Scythe pulled into the drawers, tossing out paper after paper - giving them only a quick glance to confirm what type of language they were using.

Nothing.

She was about to leave when she saw that there was a potted plant on the bench, from a casual glance it looked healthy, but Scythe knew it was in need of something. She should continue on her mission.

But…

Valentine never said she couldn’t water this plant, if she was quick about it.

She approached the potted plant without a noise, raising a hand. She gently placed a finger on it, purposefully weak magic surging through it.

Then she knew what was missing. She raised her hand and cast a small spell to pull in the vapour from the air, which condensed enough to fall into the potted plant all at once.

Satisfied with watering the plant, she continued on.

---

Valentine was far more focused.

She wanted the final spell, and she wanted it bad. She knew that she would find it eventually, the vision she was told meant that the odds were in her favour, but that same vision said she would die by the very witch hunter that was in this base.

It didn’t make sense. She was going to add him to her allyship, he shouldn’t have been a threat to her. Maybe she should have committed to recruitment…

No. No, securing the final spell is more important than getting him out of the way. She just needs to find another way of dealing with this threat.

Right now, her only threat was these military idiots destroying the paper before she could reach it. They’d be throwing away unimaginable potential if they did that. They might even stand a chance against her if these Old Realmers learnt the spell’s secrets.

Destroying it only benefits people who will not help them.

A locked door. Valentine focused on the aura of light absorption she had around herself, expanding it until it covered the other end of the door - and making the area within colder as a direct side-effect.

She dropped her internal thoughts entirely, quantum spells require the utmost concentration…

And she casted it, so now she stood on the other side. “Surrender or die.”

Gunshots, so typical. Valentine stood still, her focus on the quantum disentanglement, letting the bullets harmlessly pass through her atoms.

“So you choose death.”

She condensed matter down, so much so that the light bent around it was barely visible as a pitch black needle, which she “flung” out to the idiot that tried shooting at her.

Unlike her recruits, who were useful alive, this one died instantly as the needle pierced through their vitals, the wound so small that even a mage like her could not see it without magnification.

But she didn’t stop at the one. One of them attacked her, so they must all die.

Needle after needle after needle.

None of them stood a chance.

Once every living person was a dead corpse, Valentine waltzed on into the room. Out of her own shadow, she could see that this was for organising files. If the search didn’t have its own dedicated room, this is a likely candidate.

She opened up the first box, sorting through the papers within.

Results of examination on subject Cirillo- pass.

Results of examination on subject Sánchez- not interested.

Test subject acquired, begin preliminary tests on super soldier project- like these Old Realmers could make anything worthy of being called “super” without magic.

As Valentine searched deeper and deeper, her mind was free to think about the future once more.

She doesn’t know who Jett is, but that name is too familiar to her. It can’t be deja vu, she must have met him before… Especially since he seems to already know her name. Someone who met her and lived to tell the tale…

It doesn’t make sense. He’s a Witch Hunter, so he can’t be some Old Realmer she’s all too happy to ignore. But he clearly knows to search for missing witches in the Old Realm, and she has yet to hear of a Witch Hunter who seriously entertained the thought.

Is he a former witch she crossed paths with? Maybe he turned himself in to avoid the death penalty?

She was about to dismiss the thought, only for something far more important to come to her attention.

New Realm text.

Her eyes were glued to the old parchment as she effortlessly read what this military could not translate.

[translation available at the bottom of the page]

To whomever hath discovered mine final letter.

I has't discovered a spell that is truly horrifying. Its benefits seemeth innocuous at first, but from mine analysis of the spell effects, overuse within a population wilt guarantee the end of all life on the New Realm within 1 year. coequal if 't be true I convinced mine peers of this fact, they’ll just resort to casting this spell in the Fusty Realm and doom those folk to the same fate.

The Fusty Realm might beest filled with fools who want the true glory of us mages, but I still cannot sitteth content with either realm coming to an end. I must destroy all traces of the spell.

I must, and yet can I calleth myself a true wizard if 't be true I doth not preserve the knowledge that I findeth? I cannot betray mine true calling. The only compromise I can bethink of is to hide hence mine knowledge. I has't hath found somewhere secluded to hide hence the instructions on casting the Final Spell, and - just like whither this letter wilt end up - t is within the Fusty Realm.

If 't be true thee art a mage like I, I has't but only one request. Please doth not alloweth the knowledge of this spell falleth into the hands of anyone else.

Teiwaz, the most powerful wizard of New Realm Year 307.

This is a real letter. It fit with everything she knew, even matched Teiwaz’s handwriting. This letter was telling her exactly where the Final Spell was hidden, and it’s the real deal.

And yet.

Yet this stupid egg hunt had just been extended by another step! Why every single time it looked like she was finished there’s just another arbitrary obstacle in the way! It made her want to just-!

No, no, remember the vision. This is good news. Jett’s most likely to kill her once she actually finds the Final Spell. This means that she has longer to prepare for the inevitable. This is… good news.

Frustrating news. But good news.

Now let’s hope her new recruits are ready.

---

Translation of Teiwaz’s letter:

To whomever has discovered my final letter.

I have discovered a spell that is truly horrifying. Its benefits seem innocuous at first, but from my analysis of the spell effects, overuse within a population will guarantee the end of all life on the New Realm within 10 years. Even if I convinced my peers of this fact, they’ll just resort to casting this spell in the Old Realm and doom them to the same fate.

The Old Realm might be filled with fools who lack the true glory of us mages, but I still cannot sit content with either realm coming to an end. I must destroy all traces of the spell.

I must, and yet can I call myself a true wizard if I do not preserve the knowledge that I find? I cannot betray my true calling. The only compromise I can think of is to hide away my knowledge. I have found somewhere secluded to hide away the instructions on casting the Final Spell, and - just like where this letter will end up - it is within the Old Realm.

If you are a mage like I, I have but only one request. Please do not let the knowledge of this spell fall into the hands of anyone else.

Teiwaz, the most powerful wizard of New Realm Year 307.

---

Vote for the next chapter here!

#Jett Harker #Scythe (character)#Winter Tundra (character)#Grace (character)#Valentine (character)#Sal Vagilattea #Welcome to the New Realm #Buggyverse

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tayrcse · 11 months

Text

Middle of Nowhere

✎ summary: Growing up in Hawkins, Indiana was a nightmare for (Y/N). Everything was made bearable with Steve by her side, but she was always destined for more. She could only hope Steve was too.

✎ warnings: angst, smoking

✎ characters: Steve Harrington

✎ word count: 704

series masterlist

We used to meet up at the park

We knew the shortcuts all by heart

Raced to the top of the swing set

To escape the town that we lived in

We fell in love in the middle of nowhere

“You sure took your sweet time, Harrington,” You say as soon as you see the unmistakable head of hair belonging to the one and only Steve Harrington.

“Sorry, babe. You know how long it takes to get this under control,” he says with a smirk, gesturing to his hair. He strolls over to where you’re sitting on the swing and stands in front of you. You stand up to greet him, and he takes you into his arms. Leaning in as if to kiss you, he whispers, “Race you to the top of the swing set,” before taking off.

“Cheater!” You yell, running after him. You catch up with him and watch as he stands victorious at the top of the structure. “No fair,” you pout at him. Steve laughs before reaching toward you to brush a strand of hair that had fallen into your face. He stares into your eyes as you struggle to catch you breath.

“I love you, (Y/N),” he whispers, staring into your eyes. Before you get a chance to respond, he’s leaning in and kissing you.

I always hated that small town

I couldn’t wait ‘til I got out

Couldn’t drive but I had some car keys

And you promised you would come with me

But you stayed in the middle of nowhere

You and Steve had the time of your lives that summer. But there was always the desire for something more. You were ecstatic when the chance came for you to get out of Hawkins, Indiana.

“Your parents got you a car?” Steve gawked, and you laughed.

“Yeah, it’s a present for graduating high school with straight ‘A’s,” you replied, holding up the keys.

“You can’t even drive,” Steve frowned. You rolled you eyes.

“Well, when I do, I’m taking this baby and getting the hell out of this town,” you said, looking longingly at your new car.

“And I’ll follow,” Steve promised, punctuating it with a kiss to your cheek.

But when the time came, you drove away in your new car, leaving Steve in your rear view mirror.

Tell me how we ended up miles apart

With nothing in my bag and only half a heart

I knew that it was stupid

But I just needed a change

As you stood in a new town, unfamiliar faces all around you, you couldn’t help but wonder how you ended up so far from the boy you loved. Dragging your near-empty suitcase behind you, you entered the airport, leaving half of your heart behind.

Now part of me is sitting in the place we met

The front seat of your car smelled like cigarettes

I guess I kinda loved it

‘Cause it’s etched inside my brain

Sitting on the plane, you couldn’t help but think back to a better time. A less lonely time. “Those things will kill you, y’know,” you say, watching as Steve takes a drag of his cigarette. He shrugs before taking it out of his mouth and flicking it out the window.

“Better?” He asks, eyebrow raised in question.

“Much,” you say, leaning in to kiss him, the taste of the cigarette still on his tongue.

I tried to change

To be someone new

So I went to Paris to be in a city

That’s time zones away

Now I’m up ‘til two (I’m up ‘til two)

I made it all the way, but it’s no use

My heart’s in the middle of nowhere with you

Paris was the opposite of Hawkins. Filled with bustling crowds of people, unfamiliar noises, and cars racing past, you can’t help but wonder what the hell you were thinking. You had told Steve you wanted a change. You didn’t want to be the girl with big dreams who never made it out. But now, as you lie in bed at two in the morning, you can’t help but wonder if it would have been all that bad to stay in the middle of nowhere with him.

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader fluff #spotify #tayrcse #Spotify

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kayssweetdreams · 1 year

Text

Happy Birthday Happy Hour

(Birthday Fic for @shadowqueen402)

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY ARIA!!

Reala scowled from his throne in the Night Dimension as he watched Aria celebrate her birthday in the real world. He could go there any time he desired, but due to the fact that he was...well, Reala, Everyone would pull all the stops to make sure he didn't get anywhere NEAR her.

But he couldn't help himself but gaze at her beauty from his small window to the Waking World. He watched as the maestros put on a special show for her, as well as many different foods from Wonderworld were being served. "Whatcha doin?" A voice tinged with insanity asked. Reala groaned as he saw Jackle leaning over his throne, his cape like body flopping like a wet towel over his throne. "Nothing of your concern JACKLE." Reala spat, pushing his non-existent head a push.

Jackle however, wasn't fazed, as he leaned on the OTHER side of the throne "I see you eyeing that visitor! She looks rather beautiful if I'm being honest!" He cackled. Reala gave a growl "Well look somewhere else. She's MINE." he said, fury in his eyes. "Well I don't see you over there, celebrating WITH her. Why don't you go there and wish her a happy birthday?" He asked with the innocence of a child. "Well, you know what's gonna happen if I go over there. I'll get a big serving of my traitorous sibling kicking my rear to kingdom come..." He stated bitterly.

"Well, I have something that'll take your mind off of it! Here!" Jackle cackled, pulling out a Brown, but fresh apple. "Here! Have some of these...happles." He said. Reala raised an eyebrow. Usually whenever Jackle gave him something, it would end up springing some kind of dangerous result in the end. Why in the Night Dimension would he bring him a Brown apple? "This isn't gonna DO anything to me right? Because if it does, I'm going to throw your cape in a wood chipper." Reala threatened.

Jackle gave his usual crazy smile "Of course not! Cross my Nightmaren heart!" He said, as innocently as possible. However, as Reala took a bite, he didn't notice that Jackle's smile was growing, and he was feeling...odd. the orange maren then began to float closer "So...About that party..." He started as Reala smiled.

Meanwhile, In Wonderworld...

Aria looked in beauty at the snowflake necklace that Iben had gifted her. The party that was held in her honor was going off without a hitch! It was actually a surprise party that Iben and Kaylo had planned together, and had gotten help from Balan to throw it. All of the inhabitants had given Aria wonderful gifts, and Balan and Lance performed a show in her honor, all the while, the Tims had given her birthday cuddles.

"Thank you everyone for the wonderful party!" She cheered, standing up from the throne that the Fort Bros had gifted her. "Of course darling! You had helped us in the past, it wouldn't hurt to return the favor." Lucy said, grabbing one of the snacks that were laid out for the party. A blush graced Aria's cheeks. It had been a while since the great incident of Nightmare Hiccups from Lance, and when the gang traveled to the Night Dimension to find the cure. However, her mind drifted to Reala whenever she thought of it.

"What's wrong Aria? Something on your mind?" Mei asked, placing down her own present. "Erm...Kinda. I was just thinking about Reala..." she admitted. THAT got both Balan and Lance curious, as they hovered over to her "Reala? NiGHTS greatest foe? What exactly is there to know?" Balan asked. "Well...I was kinda hoping he'd be here." Aria said quietly. "WHAT?!?!" NiGHTS, who had been listening in on the conversation, darted down and looked Aria dead in the eyes "Reala is DANGEROUS!! Did you forget what he tried to do?! He trapped you all in false dreams!!" They shouted.

"But...what if he COULD change? What if he was on our side? Could, given the chance." Aria argued, knowing that Reala often acted...Differently around her. NiGHTS was about to make their argument, when they heard the kids trying to wrangle Iben's kids away from a odd looking treat "No No! You guys can't eat those!" Debbie shouts, while Kaylo brings out a couple of mini cakes to lure them away. "Best to keep those kids away, Happy Hour Apples aren't meant for kids Anyway." Balan stated. Aria looked curious "Happy Hour Apples?" She asked.

"Apples that have an alcohol like taste. Minors beware of those apples in their haste. Too many of those would make you rather Tipsy, Why Lance once ate a lot, and danced like a gypsy." Balan said with a chuckle. Lance glared at him "Some things are better left unsaid. Although, some beings cannot get that through their head." He said in a scarily calm voice. Balan gave a booming laugh, until they heard Yuri scream "IT'S REALA!!!"

All the festivities seemed to stop at her yell as a dark portal opened in the air, as Reala flew out...and smacked into a wall. Balan, Lance and NiGHTS then took up defensive positions. "Reala! I don't know why you're here. But if you think you're gonna harm anyone here, you've got another thing coming!" NiGHTS shouted. However, instead of the usual retort, or threat, Reala just smiled and laughed...a rather giddy and carefree laugh.

"Hiya sibs! How ya doin?" Reala slurred, before drunkenly throwing an arm over NiGHTS shoulder. Leo got between the two maren "N-Not another step Reala! O-Or we'll get Balan and Lance!!" He yelled. The red maren looked down at him with a giddy expression "Go ahead and do so if yer brave 'nough. I know who you are, guuurrrl. And try as you may, you can't hide sleep f'rever!" He hiccuped. The fight in NiGHTS seemed to fade out. What had Reala gotten into?

Balan and Lance immediately summoned their magic and got between the two of them. "Is this a trick? Some kind of joke? You must be one sorry bloke." Lance threatened. Reala just giggled and gave a loud "Shhh... Don't tell my cousins this, but I ate these apples and I'm sooooo drunk." He shushed, wiggling his finger on Lance's lips before giggling like crazy again. Balan bit back a laugh "Dear me. Under the influence of Happy Hour Apples I see." He joked, looking down at the...rather silly Reala.

Reala's dazed out eyes then gazed over at Aria, who was looking at him curiously. His smile had gotten bigger as he dizzily floated over to her "You know, Vis'tor, there's this one Nightmaren named Reala. He liiikes yoooouuu. He thinks you're puuurrttty." He slurred out. He then floated over to a nearby table, while snatching a Shirley Temple float from Kaylo (earning a rather peeved "HEY!" from her) as well as a spoon. He then tapped the spoon as best as he could onto the glass "HEY EVERYONE! I'm gonna make a toast now...Heehee! Whysit called a toast when you can't eat it with jam and butter?" He giggled.

The children began to giggle at Reala's antics while he began his toast "I jus' wanna start by sayin...I'm sorry." He blabbed out "I'm Sorry for all that stuff that Wizeman told me to do...He was jus' havin a hissy fit. With his hand claws...He's like a cat, a really angry floating cat." He said. Purrla, Cass and Lance fell to the ground in laughter at his words. "And I also wanna say happy birfday to one of the most beautiful, and smartest, and kindest visitors in the wakin world. An' I wanna wish her a happy birthday." He giggled, raising the stolen glass into the air.

Everyone was fighting laughter at this point. Reala must have eaten a LOT of those apples to get like this. Reala then drunkenly floated over to Aria, and floated right next to her, now holding a plate that was close to him and pulled Aria closer to him "I-If you all 'scuse me, I'm takin' my girl on a ride." He hiccups, using the plate as a steering wheel and "driving" off. All laughter that was being held back officially came out at that point. Reala had officially become The life of the party.

Later on into the party, Balan and Lance had kept slipping the Happy Hour Apples over to Reala to ensure that he didn't...(ahem) Slip into had habits. And all through the party, Reala clung to Reala like a lovesick puppy, drunkenly letting little compliments of Aria out of his Tipsy mouth. By the time the party finally ended, Reala had to be dragged back to the Night Dimension by a Dying of Laughter NiGHTS...

But not without Aria slipping him one little kiss near his cheek. "Sweet Dreams Reala." She said, much to Reala's joy, as he shouted "I WAS KISSED BY AN ANGEL!!"

(Aria and the Happy Hour Apples belong to @shadowqueen402

Mei belongs to @sundove88

Rebecca belongs to @thehypercutstudios/@thehyperrequiem

Trisha Jane belongs to @lovelyteng

Debbie belongs to @mayordebbie )

#Balan Wonderworld

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ao3feed-dadzawa · 2 years

Text

How to Train Your Trash Baby

How To Train Your Trash Baby by PastelGlitterPen

Desperate yowling cut through the night, accompanied by infrequent clanging. Shouta paused on the rooftop he had been running across and tried to determine the direction of the sound. Most likely a stray cat or some other animal. Shouta liked cats, and to a lesser extent all animals, so he wasn't about to just leave it struggling. The poor thing could be hurt.

Soon enough, he tracked the commotion to a street that was starkly unpopulated at this time of night. The noise originated from some vending machines next to a bus stop, lit up by the soft glow of a streetlight. Shouta raised an eyebrow at the small rear end sticking out of the little door that the snacks dropped down into. Was that… a toddler? Out here? At this hour?

Aizawa Shouta finds a little trash baby. Unfortunately, the kid's feral. What now?

Words: 1538, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Kayama Nemuri | Midnight, Iida Tensei | Ingenium, Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Inko, Midoriya Hisashi, Iida Tenya, A Random Family of Tanuki

Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku & Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic

Additional Tags: Midoriya Izuku Has a Mutation-Type Quirk, Midoriya Izuku Has a Quirk, Midoriya Izuku Does Not Have One for All Quirk, Cute Midoriya Izuku, Feral Midoriya Izuku, Baby Midoriya Izuku, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Lost Child, Dead Midoriya Inko, Dead Midoriya Hisashi, Small Midoriya Izuku, Mutation-Type Quirks, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead Adopts Midoriya Izuku, Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic Adopts Midoriya Izuku, Raccoon Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku's War On Vending Machines, Parental Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Parental Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Rehabilitation

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40024407

#AO3 Feed #FanFiction #AO3 Dadzawa #♥#Erasermic #Izuku Midoriya #R:T #A:Pastel #Quirk AU #Dadzawa #Dad Mic

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1shot-wonder · 1 year

Text

5 Times Colin Bridgerton Fell In Love and One Time He Did Something About it (Colin Bridgerton x Fem!OC

(GIF Credit to bridgertonland)

Okay, disclaimer: This is not an x reader. I’m sorry! I just really liked this 5 +1 idea but I couldn’t figure out how to make it work and I really really really just have baby boy on the brain. I will be adding the main three Bridgerton boys to the request list as well, but only for the show. Below the cut will be the summary and more info! Thank you so much for reading!

Masterlist

This fic takes place in the show timeline, not the books, since I am only two books in and also wanted to use the Marina plot. However this is an AU where Penelope is not in love with Colin. Takes place basically when S3 will be, during the marriage season following Kate and Anthony’s wedding. This will actually be 14 parts. I cranked out a prologue and all six moments for Colin and intend to write the OC POV but it will take a while since I only got this out today bc it’s the holiday and therefore I did not have class.

Summary: After his heartbreak over Marina Thompson and a wonderful trip abroad, Colin Bridgerton is finally starting to get his feet back under him. And when a new lady debuts on the marriage market, he may be ready to give love another chance.

Warnings: One mention of parental death. Spoilers for Bridgerton on Netflix. But other than that, none. Fluffy fluff and just softness all around. I am a Benedict girly at heart (maybe. I say that, but I may be converted) but I do want to offer some love for this sweet boy.

Prologue:

Colin POV: Word Count 288

“Have you all heard the news?”

“Oh no.” Benedict groaned when Riley took his seat with the brothers at White’s. “I do not care about whatever gossip you have heard about the debutantes.”

“Not even that there is a new one?” Riley joked. “Present by one of your acquaintances from what I’ve heard. Sir Henry Granville and his wife’s new ward.” Benedict raised his eyebrow.

“Alright. I’m listening.”

“Apparently her father was Sir Granville’s cousin, passed away last year. Bad heart.” Riley explained. “And her mother died of consumption when she was young. So they took her in. Her parents had been rearing her for the marriage mart. And now that the grieving period has ended…”

“The girl’s father passed away last year and now she’s being pushed into the marriage mart?” Benedict asked. “That doesn’t sound like the Granville’s.”

“The girl has already pushed her debut back quite a bit. I believe she is twenty.” Riley waved their shock away. “She can’t wait forever.”

“Kate was twenty-two.” Benedict pointed out.

“Do not patronize me, Bridgerton, I know your brother did not exactly propose.”

“Anthony loves Kate. As do we, so watch your tongue.” Colin snapped.

“Alright. Alright. The point still stands that twenty is older than average for a debut. Just as twenty-nine is a tad old for a proposal.” Benedict rolled his eyes. That was a no. He was grateful to Granville, but he did not think he could be a member of his family and not let something slip. Colin was the one who actually mustered up a response.

“Thank you for the information, Riley. If our mother ever runs out of gossip with which to entertain us, we will know just where to go.

Cassidy (OC) POV: Word Count 382

“So.” Lucy smiled at Cassidy as they settled into the parlor. “It is time to discuss your desires before we go to tonight’s ball.”

“What do you mean?”

“I must know what men to steer you towards and away from.” Lucy explained. “So, I suppose my first question is this- do you desire a love match, or would you be content with a marriage of convenience, of friendship.”

“I- I would like to marry for love. If I can.” She admitted. “But why does that matter?”

“There are men who have no interest in such a match, and therefore they are not worth our time. And, of course, some men who can not give you that.” Cassidy nodded in understanding. They had revealed the nature of their marriage to her, not wanting any secrets between them. She had offered more acceptance and grace than they had expected. She was a sweet girl. “So, what sort of man do you wish to marry?” Cassidy tilted her head in thought.

“That’s a complicated question.”

“I suppose it is.” Lucy laughed. “Then what do you wish to avoid? What is an absolute requirement?”

“Well…he has to love music. Or at the very least like it.” Cassidy stated. “I’ve always imagined myself playing the piano for my husband on quiet nights.” Lucy smiled softly. “And I want him to enjoy being outside. And travel.” She sat up. “I must marry a man who enjoys travel and will take me with him.” Lucy laughed.

“You seem to know what you want more than you thought.” She observed. “What about his humor?” She asked lightly. “Do you want him to be impertinent and joke like you? Or would you prefer a serious man to balance you out?”

“Maybe not quite as impertinent.” Cassidy admitted. “But he must be willing to indulge me.” Lucy nodded sagely.

“It is very important for a husband to indulge his wife.” She agreed. “How else would I have gotten you that beautiful gown for the night?” She giggled. “So. A traveler, who likes music, and nature. And who has a sense of humor that may occasionally offend some of the more stately members of the ‘ton.” Already, a list was forming in her mind. “I believe we can find a man like that.”

I will start posting Colin’s POV’s tomorrow!

#bridgerton #colin bridgerton #romance #fanfic #bridgerton fanfiction #oc #character x oc

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