Smalltown Bringdown 4

Smalltown Bringdown 4

Warnings: blood, violence, noncon (fingering).

This is dark!biker!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Bucky takes you for a ride.

Note: Okay so it took me a while to finish this one in terms of organizing my ideas and maybe I just think about this stuff too much lol. But it is a little longer than the last two chapters. Now I’m thinking part 5 will be the last but as it happens so often, this story might be slipping beyond by restraints lol. But anyway, enjoy. To those who take the time to read, thank you. Love you guys!

Please, leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Five days in and you couldn’t say you were adjusting, merely closer to acceptance of your hopeless circumstance. That was always easy. In Birch, it was an inevitability that one would settle. There were no grand dreams to be achieved, no underdog story or redemption; there was only monotony and routine. As it was oft said, you were born and then you died. 

You were surprised to have the weekend off. Working in a bar, it was expected to work Friday to Saturday; those were the busy days. Your schedule didn’t seem to fit to the necessity of the business though, more its owner. Whenever you were there, he made sure to be there too. He was always there to see you off at the end of the night, though his farewells were briefer than his first.

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Sugar Daddy’s [5/6]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: If you can’t tell yet – things of a sexual nature are involved.   Summary: Suave, confident, charming Bucky Barnes has a deep dark secret – and you, a small-town investigative journalist, are determined to get to the bottom of it. What lurks in his shadowed past, and how deeply will you be drawn in? Co-written with the wonderfully stupendous @caitfairwrites!

It’s an ice cream kind of day – ice cream at four o’clock in the afternoon, under that warm summer sun; air ripe with freshly-mown grass and the climax of weeks’ worth of anticipation. 

Sugar Daddy’s is open for business. 

A crush of customers makes for standing room only on the sidewalk outside, but you’ve got special permission to slip under the proverbial velvet rope – seriously, why hadn’t Bucky ordered one? – and sweep into the shop with a broad smile on your face and a pretty sundress swinging about your legs. Shoes clicking brightly on the black-and-white tile. 

It’s cool inside, thick and sweet with the scent of freshly-made waffle cones; a heady tumble of chocolate and sugar and berries. A hum from the freezers; and the crisp step of a familiar tread makes you turn. “My favorite customer,” Bucky teases from around the glass ice cream case. “Little presumptuous, showing up before we officially open. Thanks for coming.” 

Oh, there’s a joke there. Favorite, open, come – Bucky’s certainly generous today, but any wit dies sweet on your tongue as you drink him in. Hair lush and styled; a crisp white shirt, black jeans. A soft bomber jacket that practically melts against his broad shoulders. And a different kind of smile – nothing devilish about this crooked grin; the crinkle about his eyes. There’s a tension to his bottom lip, and the way his fingers play with the zipper of his jacket, drum against the counter, and then finally, grip the edge – he’s nervous. 

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by design: five

a/n: pls excuse my small self-indulgence w/ reader’s taste in music lol. ALSO i’m not an engineer of any kind so please do not @ me if the science doesn’t add up here ty in advance

The next two weeks were a blur. 

Kirishima gave you a list of his workouts - adjusted to your level and skillset - and your Quirk training began. You spent most of your days working on Bakugou’s costume, and in the evenings you would do your workouts or hone your Quirk by shifting a glass of water between different states of matter. The time in between shifts was getting shorter, and you were feeling better about the amount of control you had over your Quirk. 

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Friends Don’t Keep Secrets

A/N: Greetings, friends! I sincerely apologize for not posting recently; I’ve come down with a nasty headcold and just haven’t had the physical energy to write. I promise I’ll get back to it very very soon! You guys seem to really like Jaskier as a Ler. I can’t say that I disagree. This is a request fic from a lovely anon, so wherever you are, I truly hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Ler!Jaskier x Lee!Reader

Prompt(s): #19 “Not there, you say? You shouldn’t have said that,”

Summary: You and Jaskier have been close friends for quite a while, but there’s one thing he hasn’t learned about you. When this comes to his attention, he’ll never let you live it down.

Warnings: None

WC: 1.2k

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You’d travelled as a companion to the witcher for many months now, alongside Jaskier the infamous bard. The three of you had bonded like a family (although Geralt would likely never admit it) and you considered them your closest friends—Jaskier, especially.

While Geralt was out hunting monsters or just not speaking much at all in general, Jaskier was there to keep you company, and so the two of you became fast friends. He told you about his life as a bard, the things he’s seen and places he’s been, while you told him about your own life in return. You shared jokes, secrets, hopes and dreams. You looked out for each other when Geralt wasn’t around, and both got amusement from annoying him when he was.

Sometimes, Jaskier would even let you help him write his songs—but the lute was off limits. It always was.

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Smalltown Bringdown 2

Warnings: blood, violence, more to be added.

This is dark!biker!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You begin your search for a new job but times are tough.

Note: Here’s part two. I’m planning on making this a relatively short series, think Eye for an Eye. I’m having fun with Biker!Bucky and next chapter should be🔥 To those who take the time to read, thank you. Love you guys!

Please, leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

The Birch Branch Bakery was just across the street from the Chipped Saucer. The old plaque beside the door read ‘Est. 1887’. It had passed hands from one Hollorin to the next. Barbara, or Babs, Hollorin was the latest in the line of plump delicatessens. She had her father’s rosy cheeks and boomong laugh. You faintly remembered the round old man from your childhood though he had long passed.

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Beautiful and Damned 10 - Old Scars [Geralt of Rivia x Reader]

A.N: My darlings, your wonderful feedback makes me so happy, thank you! Please don’t forget to tell me what you think of this chapter, kisses!

Reminder: This story will not follow the show’s plot, so even if you haven’t watched the series, you can still read it.

The previous chapters are on my masterlist!

Summary: Sometimes scars have meanings.

Word Count: 3734

Warnings: Mentions of violence, death, nudity

What you would wear for a wedding was in fact the least of your worries, but it wasn’t as if you could just tell that to your mother without being subjected to an hour of her ranting, so you just let her send you a lot of fabrics of a lot of colors, many of which were lying on your bed beside Fin, who was groaning.

“Stop,” you pointed at him as Cassie stifled a laugh, “And get off, you’re wrinkling them.”

“Is there any fabric that means my brother shouldn’t have to do this?”

Cassie shrugged, “Maybe purple? We could write it on the dress with silver threads.”

“Good idea.”

“Don’t encourage him,” you told Cassie and Fin heaved a sigh, then sat up.

“I doubt princess Meriel wants this.”

“That makes two of you, see? You have something in common.”

“No, I mean,” Fin waved a hand in the air, looking for words, “She doesn’t want…me.”

“What?”

“She doesn’t look at me with desire written in her eyes.”

“Fin, I don’t know how to break this to you, but people usually don’t look at people with desire written in their eyes.”

He pouted, “They don’t? Someone should let the witcher know.”

Your gaze sharpened and he waved the white fabric in the air, gesturing surrender.

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