#didn't expect to write some steamy bits already in chapter 2 but oh well!! reader is pent up i guess

[murdockparker]

Roses and Regrets - Part 2

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: What a pleasant life it is, to be a widow with no obligations. Getting new dresses, making unlikely friends, what a treat.

Word Count: 3.9k

Rating: 18+!!! MINORS DNI (I will haunt you)

Warnings: female masturbation, yearning, Reader decidedly hates Anthony (what's new??) , maybe a bit of angst

A/N: oops my hands slipped and this is what happened. sorry bout that, bruv!

first part - next part

—

“You should have seen him, Meg.”

Her lady’s maid nodded along to Lady Barlow’s rant, having heard the interaction in nauseam since she returned from the park. From his appearance to his demeanor—Meg assumed she might as well have been there. Carefully, she continued to remove the pins from the dowager viscountess’ hair, the very same that she had placed in the morning. 

“I am sure Lord Bridgerton was certainly unagreeable,” Meg droned, accidentally snagging her lady’s hair. “Sorry, ma’am.”

“You know, you don’t have to do all that, I am a perfectly capable woman,” (Y/N) laughed, looking at her maid in the mirror. “And he was, unagreeable, if you must know.”

“He is alway unagreeable,” Meg said, exasperated. “My lady, please take no offense, but I think this talk of Lord Bridgerton must cease.”

“You do not have to ask me twice,” (Y/N) snorted. “I wish for nothing more than to stop speaking about that oaf.”

Meg blinked. “Right. Of course.”

“You… you do not believe me?”

“I believe you believe it to be true,” Meg carefully stated, hands by her sides. “We have a good friendship, ma’am, and I am ever grateful that you allow me to speak my mind—”

“So speak it,” (Y/N) said, voice tittering on a giggle. “I shall not take offense, I swear it.”

“You have done nothing but speak of Lord Bridgerton since you arrived from your visit to the park,” Meg began, choosing her words carefully. “Save for when you had your meals, hard to speak over soup and the like. I, for one, am exhausted hearing about it. Perhaps a respite from the topic?”

“Imagine how I feel,” (Y/N) finally laughed. “That man makes me insane.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I pray whenever he marries—oh that poor woman—I hope she can teach him some manners.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Perhaps I should send him a book on it? Manners, I mean.”

“Good idea, ma’am.”

“Meg, you are not hearing me.”

“Oh I am hearing you,” Meg nodded. “I am just choosing not to listen.”

She bit her lip, eyeing her friend’s faraway glance. Glassy, almost. “Perhaps… I suppose I should drop the topic for now?”

“It is late,” Meg shook her head, nearly dropping out of a trance. “I have mending to attend to, if you do not mind.”

“You hate the mending.”

“Picking and choosing my battles, ma’am,” Meg smiled politely. 

“Admirable,” (Y/N) said. “I suppose it is late…”

“Might I fetch you some more tea before you retire?” She set the last pin down amongst the vanity. Covered in expensive oils and products, it’s a wonder that anyone could find anything at all on the surface. Thank God Meg knew the contents like the back of her hand.

“No… I fear it will keep me up all night, but thank you, truly,” (Y/N) said. 

“Goodnight, my lady.”

And then, she was alone. 

Snuffing her candle, she hopped into her bed. Thankfully she never shared this one with Lord Barlow—that was reserved in the wing across the estate—leaving this bed untouched by such a soiled man. It was pleasantly plush and covered in endless pillows, she wondered if the royal princesses slept in beds as nice as this one—nicer, probably. More pillows, if she had to wager.

Sheets pulled up to her chin, eyes focused on the ceiling, she tried to chase sleep. Her mother had taught her a trick when she was young, imagining rabbits chasing around the room and counting those—perhaps it was sheep? Regardless, she tried counting. She only made it to twenty nine before flipping onto her side, exasperated by the count. 

Sleep never came.

The covers melted off of her body in an instant, floating over to her door to ensure it was locked. Quietly, oh-so quietly, she turned the latch. No need for the staff to interrupt her… sleep. She hardly had to turn to such matters, but when exhaustion cycled her brain and not her body, leaving her tossing and turning all night, she really had no other choice. 

No other choice, she reminded herself. 

She laid on top of the covers this time, rabbits and sheep all but forgotten.

If there was to be one positive of marrying, it was the sheer fact that she was able to fully understand her body as a woman. While the marital act itself was entirely loathsome—a chore with Lord Barlow that happened infrequently during their marriage to try for an heir—the act of doing it alone? 

Why the idea alone just got her heart pounding. 

She never had anyone to teach her these things, her mother passed before her marriage, so there was no ‘wedding night talk’. Everything that Lady Barlow had learned was from her sheer will and determination—a chase for something she never quite knew she was racing towards. Her husband? He had never been any help. A few grunts and thrusts before he would spend himself inside, collapsing on top of her for the night. 

She refused to give her late husband much thought—not when her hands were on her breasts, one slinking lower to touch a more delicate area. 

No. She needed to focus her thinking on something else. Something to get the job done, send her to sleep sooner than later. 

The gentleman. The faceless one that she imagined in place of her own hands. It usually sped things along if she focused on a generally well-looking fellow and how he’d touch her instead of just chasing her own feelings with her fingertips. Saved her wrists a lot of pain too—occasionally she felt like she was back practicing her penmanship, writing lines all day with her governess—the ache was fairly similar. Although, one pain caused a higher embarrassment than the other.

Decidedly happy with her diversion of thought, she made quick work on the bottom of her nightdress and pulled it up to her stomach. (Y/N) had never the need to sleep with drawers, feeling a dress was more than enough. Besides, it gave her easy access on nights like tonight. Her fingers danced with her lower lips, already damp with arousal. 

She sighed at the first contact, the pure ecstasy of running her fingertips across her glistening folds. In her mind, he was doing this to her, the nameless man who wanted nothing more than to give her what she needed. With slow and tantalizing circles, she teased her clit, gasps leaving her lips involuntarily, her eyes rolling shut before she could even think. Her non-dominant hand continued to grasp at her breast, squeezing and rolling the flesh until she was utterly mindless. 

The climb was thrilling, it was suffocating and all encompassing. How she dreamed she could experience this with someone, feel this pleasure with another, both giving and taking exactly what the other needed. She groaned again, feeling herself getting closer to the edge, her circles faster now, the gentleman making good work on her neglected center. 

“Gods,” (Y/N) cried, trying her very best to keep her voice down. She didn’t need Meg inquiring about her, not when she was so worked up and so, so close.

And then… the fall. Everything was white and her heart felt like it was bound to beat out of her chest.     

Brown eyes.

As she fell into a peaceful slumber, for no reason in particular, she decided her faceless gentleman had brown eyes. 

—

Breaking her fast was usually rewarding, the chefs at Barlow Estate were some of the most talented in the ton—of course, only in her humble opinion, not that she had much to compare it to. When she first married Lord Barlow, having such fulfilling meals first thing in morning was almost worth marrying such an oaf. Almost.

“Did you have a good sleep, ma’am?” A butler asked, taking (Y/N)’s empty plate, replacing it with one full of fresh cut fruit.

“Oh!” Her face flushed. “Y-yes, James, of course. I always have a pleasant sleep.”

“You look well rested, ma’am,” he nodded.

“My lady,” Meg spoke up, gaining the attention of Lady Barlow from her fruit. “You have an appointment at the modiste early this afternoon.”

“I don’t recall making an appointment,” (Y/N) held her hand still, half of an apple tight in her grasp.

“I made the appointment, ma’am,” Meg said. “You are in need of new dresses—” 

“Is there something wrong with the way I dress?”

“Of course not,” Meg said quickly, her face growing slightly pink. “It is just, since the late Lord Barlow passed you have been in mourning attire—blacks, blues, the entire dreary ensemble. I figured it would be best to get dresses that suited more the colors of the season.”

“I am unsure if you noticed,” (Y/N) said, taking a small bite of her apple. She chewed it quickly. “But my dress today is green.”

“I did notice,” Meg nodded politely. “It is a lovely color, but perhaps a lighter blue would be nice? A purple?”

“Perhaps you should listen to her, ma’am,” James interjected. “The family account has not been used since after your wedding and the mourning attire—”

“And I can use that money elsewhere,” (Y/N) raised her brow. “I’m sure the new viscount will be pleased I am not blowing his money so frivolously, I do not see the need for new dresses.”

Meg sighed, giving James a trying look. He shrugged. “Humor me. Just one dress.”

“Fine. One dress."

Somehow, between the carriage ride to the modiste and the tailoring of a beautiful purple display piece, Lady (Y/N) Barlow was talked into three new dresses. A sharp pinprick to her left leg brought her back to her senses. 

“Oh! Lady Barlow, I do apologize,” Madame Delacroix said. “You must keep still as I pin your hems."

“I will try my best,” (Y/N) smiled, glancing down at the woman working hard on her new dress. “How fortunate the display dress you had fits so well.”

“Oui, how fortunate,” Madame Delacroix nodded. “A few pins and stitches and it will be perfect. And this color is very flattering—I am certain the men of the ton will turn their heads at this.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “I have no need to turn heads, Madame,” (Y/N) said curtly. “I am simply just refreshing my wardrobe.”

“Oh, no one has the need to turn heads, save for the young ladies,” Madame Delacroix giggled, it sounded almost fake, forced. “But my work will do that regardless, so do expect that Lady Barlow.”

“Joy,” (Y/N) sighed, tilting her head at her reflection. While it hadn’t been an extraordinarily long time since she debuted—a shake over three years at the most—she was no longer the young girl from her first season. Her curves have filled out, her features more defined, so this particular cut was suiting her just fine. Madame Delacroix was the best modiste for a reason, knowing just how to make the ladies of the ton sparkle.

The front door swung open, a sea of blue flooding in the entryway. “Ah, Lady Bridgerton, I shall be with you in a moment!” Madame Delacroix called out.

(Y/N) froze at the mere mention of the Bridgerton name.

“Take your time, Madame,” Lady Bridgerton cooed, practically shoving a book of fabrics in her daughter’s face. Eloise, (Y/N) recalls, the second eldest daughter of the brood. It was her first season. “We’ll be patient.”

“Shall I pull another dress, Lady Barlow?”

“No,” (Y/N) shook her head wildly. “I rather think I am finished for this afternoon. Please add the dresses to my account—”

“Lady Barlow,” Lady Bridgerton said kindly. “How lovely it is to see you.”

Fuck.

“Lady Bridgerton,” (Y/N) curtsied, feeling far too proper. “Likewise.”

“What a lovely color that is on you,” she said, eying the girl up and down. “I take it you are out of mourning then, yes?”

“Have been since the Danbury Ball,” (Y/N) nodded. “But I gather Lady Whistledown has already made that public knowledge.” 

Lady Bridgerton's cheeks flushed, like a child with their hand caught in the biscuit jar. “I cannot say that I find myself reading that gossip rag often, but—”

“Oh Mother,” Eloise groaned, looking up at the ceiling in frustration. “You read Whistledown just as often as I.”

“I do not blame you, Lady Bridgerton,” (Y/N) quickly added. The older woman’s shoulders relaxed. “For the many months I was in mourning and not socializing, Whistledown was my way I could keep up with everything. I very much would like to thank her, should I ever get the opportunity.”

“Yes, well,” Lady Bridgerton cleared her throat. “In any case, if you happen to be free tomorrow afternoon, would you like to join me for tea?”

“Tea?”

“I remember how it felt when—” she stopped herself, eyes becoming glassy. “Becoming a widow so suddenly is difficult. I would like to bestow my wisdom upon you if you’d allow it.”

“You are not quite old enough to be bestowing wisdom,” (Y/N) laughed lightly.

“I beg to differ,” Eloise mumbled.

“Flattery, Lady Barlow, will get you everywhere,” Lady Bridgerton smiled, elbowing her daughter lightly. “And you already have the invite, no need to lay it on so thick.”

“That is very kind of you, but—”

“So, shall we say noon tomorrow?”

The Bridgertons, as Lady Barlow gathered, were a difficult lot to say no to.

“Noon. Sounds perfect.”

—

It felt odd, being in the drawing room of Bridgerton House. She only ever had the fleeting thought that she’d ever sit here the once—ages ago during her first season. Now? Now she was sitting and drinking tea with Lady Bridgerton as if nothing was wrong in the world.

“You have a lovely home,” (Y/N) said, holding her teacup a little tighter than she should. 

“Thank you,” Lady Bridgerton said voice full of appreciation. “Tell me, Lady Barlow, how is your family?”

“My family?”

“Oh, forgive me for asking,” Lady Bridgerton clarified. “I just had realized that I know very little about you, you were only in the season for such a short time before you married. I figured your family was a good place to start.”

“No, no,” (Y/N) put the cup down. “I understand. Seeing as everyone knows about your family,” Lady Bridgerton chuckled at that, “I should only fill in some blank spaces, I suppose.”

The elder dowager nodded her head, tipping her cup at the younger widow to continue.

“No family, I’m afraid,” (Y/N) said, her voice wavering on sad. “Mother passed a few years before my debut, Father just last year. No siblings, so… just me I’m afraid.”

“Goodness,” Lady Bridgerton pressed a hand to her heart. “Your father and husband in the same year? I am truly sorry for your losses.”

“My mother was the true loss,” she said honestly, her voice practically lifting. “Kindest soul to grace this Earth, I mourn her every day. The others? I do not doubt anyone has missed them.”

“Lord Barlow,” Lady Bridgerton dropped a spoonful of sugar into her cup. “He was an odious man. When I had heard he had taken another wife—it was quite the story around the ton. I was beside myself.”

“I happen to be number three,” (Y/N) said matter-of-factly. “Number One and Two both died in childbirth, trying to give that man his beloved heir. Never worked out, and I cannot say I am crestfallen I never came to be with child, either. The new Lord Barlow is quite well suited for the role regardless, I am told, so I suppose it has worked out for the best.”

“Yes,” Lady Bridgerton had a small smile against her lips, “I can imagine so.”

“Does your son,” (Y/N) coughed, correcting herself, “Lord Bridgerton, does he know I am here for tea?”

“Oh my son is not always privy to my social calendar,” the older woman winked. “He is probably out galavanting and trying to find a wife.”

“A wife?”

“Oh, yes,” Lady Bridgerton nearly beamed. “Lord Bridgerton is finally looking to marry—even after all these years of begging him. Something just clicked last season, I suppose. Perhaps Daphne, the duchess, marrying finally gave him the right idea?”

(Y/N) nodded politely. “I’m sure you’re thrilled.”

“I only wish for the best for all eight of my children,” she nodded, “so seeing him look to marry makes me ever hopeful.” 

“Mhm,” (Y/N) sank into more of her cup, polishing it off.

The grand clock ticked away. 

“I apologize if this all makes you uncomfortable Lady Barlow,” Lady Bridgerton started. “It is just… when Edmund passed, I had my family and wonderful friends to support me. I figured, perhaps, having another friend would not be the worst thing?”

“Lady Bridgerton, you are very kind for checking in with me, and I very much appreciate this tea,” (Y/N) said honestly. She felt like she could jump out of her skin with anxiety, but tried her very best to keep it under control. “But… as you had alluded, it is no secret that Lord Barlow and I were not a love match. There is no need—”

“Being a widow is hard,” Lady Bridgerton cut her off. “It is rotten work and you feel like a shell of yourself, only having a title such as ours because of who we married and not in our own right. Tell me, do you plan on remarrying?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I am quite content with my life,” (Y/N) said thoughtfully. “Widows have all the freedom in the world, I am allowed many opportunities because of it—far more than when I was simply a little thing on the Marriage Mart.”

“I suppose that would be… correct,” Lady Bridgerton treaded lightly. “However, do you not wish for a family? The support of another?”

“It is not that I do not wish for a family,” (Y/N) said truthfully. “I am sure part of me does, but it is more the matter of everything that comes with it.”

“I could never imagine going about life alone,” Lady Bridgerton said. “After Edmund… I am just grateful my children were here to keep me sane, grounded, even.”

“Children can be a blessing…”

“But children,” Lady Bridgerton added quickly, “they are not for everyone. I hope you find happiness in whatever you need.”

“Thank you,” the young viscountess said sincerely. “You have such a wonderful life, Lady Bridgerton.”

“Violet,” she corrected. “Please, call me Violet.”

“Oh,” (Y/N)’s cheeks darkened. “Violet, then.”

“We are friends now, after all,” Violet smiled kindly, the kind of smile only a mother possessed. She waved for the tea to be replaced, a butler practically rushed to fulfill the viscountess’ request. “More tea?”

“I would love some more,” (Y/N) said, feeling lighter than air. Perhaps having a friend was a good step forward, a leap into the right direction.

The door to the drawing room slammed open.

“Mother, I just received our balance from the modiste and—”

Much like he owned the place—and in a way, he did—Lord Bridgerton took command of the less-than-quaint room and had all eye on him. His own eyes—his brown eyes—were trained solely on the widow sitting beside his mother, his mouth agape.

“Oh Anthony, you cannot just barge in here,” Violet scolded, “we have a guest.”

“I see that,” he seethed, shoving his hands behind his back in faux-decorum. “Lady Barlow.”

“Lord Bridgerton,” she nodded stiffly, not bothering to raise from her seat.

He ignored her, turning swiftly to his mother instead. “May I have a word alone with our guest, Mother?”

Feeling the tension in the room rise, Violet sighed, giving into her son’s request. “I believe I should check on the governess, anyhow,” Violet said, rising from her seated position. “Behave.”

Anthony brushed his mother’s whispered warning off, tilting his head to the staff, all leaving the room at his command. The door had barely clicked shut before he stepped forward. “Since when are you friends with my mother?”

“Since when do you care about who I spend my time with?”

“Since that company is my mother,” he said cooly. “I would have thought you were just so turned off by the Bridgerton name that you would ignore all of my family—”

“She is a nice woman,” (Y/N) rose, crossing her arms. “How you managed to turn out the way you have despite that is beyond me.”

“You are in my home,” Anthony pointed. “You insult my character and you dare try to befriend my mother?”

“Dare?” She laughed. “Am I not allowed to have friends?”

“Not with my mother,” he stepped towards her. 

“Your mother,” she smiled forcefully, “Violet, has been nothing but kind to me today. She was merely looking out for me—offered me some good advice.”

“Advice?” He laughed. “On what planet could someone many years your senior offer you helpful advice?”

“You could not settle with just insulting me, so you had to insult your own mother? She is not yet elderly—”

“Yet she is older than you,” he corrected, his cheeks pink from his mistake. “Do you not have friends your own age?”

“Do you not have something better to do?”

He huffed, squeezing his wrist in restraint. “I came here to speak with my mother—”

“Yet you shooed her out of the room and decided to speak to me instead,” she countered, stepping closer. “To insult me? To threaten me? Whichever, I suppose, I will never understand. I decided to take tea with Lady Bridgerton because she offered it—offered advice on being a widow, something you have already known about me.”

“I wouldn’t wish for her to hear our conversation, besides, her advice could not have been that helpful,” Anthony snorted. “My parents were in love, her trials of being a widow pales in comparison to your situation—”

“The one in which I also lost a husband? The sole definition of being a widow?” She said, her arms tight against her chest. “That situation?”

The grand clock—that damned grand clock—chimed in the uncomfortable silence, a new hour beginning.

“I may not have loved Lord Barlow,” she admitted. “He may not even have been a friend to me, but I still am a lady who has lost her husband—a lady who has so much as lost her way in this fucked world, a world where a woman cannot simply be without one. Your mother was simply being kind.”

“I did not mean…” Anthony’s posture softened, even just a bit, words caught in his throat.

“But you did,” she pointed. “If you hadn’t meant it, you wouldn’t have said it. My, Lord Bridgerton, you certainly have a way with words, much like you always have, it seems.”

“I beg your pardon?”

She looked at the clock. “I must take my leave. I am expected to be back home soon, the estate certainly cannot run itself, seeing as my husband,” she nearly spat the word, “has left it to my care. What a thoughtful man he was.”

“I—Lady Barlow,” Anthony started, unsure of where he was going with it. “Please accept my apologies.”

“Keep them,” she smiled. “They are nearly as useless as you are. Excuse me.” Lady Barlow opened the door with haste, nodding to the staff members who were waiting outside. Her lady’s maid, Meg, followed only a few steps behind her, her attention caught on the wounded viscount in blue.

Anthony practically dissolved into the arm chair, unsure of what to do next. He had half a mind to go to his study to drink, to pour over the invoices that had him enter this room in the first place. His interactions with Lady Barlow usually left him buzzing, his blood boiling and his ego only partially wounded. How he was left feeling so defeated was beyond him.

“A way with words?” He mumbled to himself. “I never wish to understand that woman.”

Yet, a part of him nearly screamed the opposite.

How peculiar.  

—

Roses and Regrets Tag List:

@creative-heart , @sunshineangel-reads

want to be added to my taglist? comment below!

[saltyyuuri]

🖋️Writers Block 🖋️

Iso x fem! Reader

Part 1

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4 - PART 5 - PART 6 - PART 7

Words; 6400

Warnings; mentions of NSFW and vulgar language . This will be copy pasted on every chapter.

Authors note: ... I know I just said I have no mental capacity to write. And that I had a writer's block. Well guess what- my God damn idea is really a goddamn writer's block. Enjoy 😭. ALSO I HAD TO BALL PARK AGE TIME LINE SO PLS GO WITH IT TY ILY

ps2- this fic is roughly 32k words total- i think i have a problem. I wrote this is 2 days. k bai-

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"Okay everyone; this is my niece (Y/n), she's going to be staying with us for some time." Brimstone announced a bit absently, his mind was on something else completely. He had some paperwork to finish up but he still wanted to take a small moment to introduce you to the agents. "She's not a radiant or an agent, so don't mess around her too much. She just needs inspiration." Brimstone said before heading off- of course his lack of details on your mysterious arrival was going to leave everyone puzzled-and also going to leave you to explain it all.

It's not like you really have the time anyways to tell him he could have been a bit more precise- he was already gone the moment you were going to open your mouth. Your gaze turned to look over the group of young adults in front of you-all agents looking very confused your way. The barrage of questions didn't take much time before happening.

"Wait Brimstone has a niece?" "Inspiration? For what?" "Why is your face mildly familiar-?" "How long are you going to stay?" All the questions were coming in faster than gunfire-making you a bit dizzy on the spot. You were trying to keep track of all the questions and trying to see which one would be best to answer first- and you didn't even get a second to introduce yourself before a blue and yellow haired girl, who looked way too hyper, yelled out.

"OH GOD WAIT I KNOW WHO SHE IS-!!!" The woman yelled out pretty loudly. The other agents effectively shut up with their questions but also flinched at the sheer volume of her voice. "Neon, jeez, tone it down a bit-" A white haired girl said, a small grimace on her face as she spoke. Neon, the bi colored hair woman, smiled sheepishly before sprinting towards you.

You jumped a bit; not expecting the speed at which she was coming. You were still pretty new to all the radiants - so seeing powers in action was still strange to you. "Your the author of the book series 'That night in Tokyo ', right??" She asked excitedly, just wanted to confirm for suspicions. "Yeah, that's me-" you said a bit sheepishly-definitely not expecting someone to even recognize you to begin with.

The women in the room all collectively had a moment of realization- a look of complicity seeming to take over. And of course; the guys just look confused. "Oh damn- Brimstone's niece is the one who wrote that?" Jett said with an impressed look-but also a slightly mischievous one.

"If I'm being honest with you-I don't think he ever read one of my books." You giggle out - you caught on to that look of complicity that was starting to form, knowing damn well what was going to go on. "I don't think he would have said it so casually that you were here for inspiration if he did-" A woman with a Spanish accent and half pink hair spoke up, a smirk on her face.

And she wasn't wrong; it was obvious that Brimstone had never opened one of your books or at least read one entirely- because if there's one thing to know about the stuff you write, is that no matter if it's a one shot book or a series; there will always be erotic scenes. You weren't ashamed of it- actually that's how you got your fan base. There was always something steamy going on; but not constantly throughout the story- you didn't want it to look like Fifty shades of Gray either.

It was just mixing your creativity for writing stories no matter if it was fantastical, romantic, a police like series or even a horror book- you would find a way. And anyone who read your books knew it was going to happen - at this point it was almost your trademark.

Of course, the men in the room just looked very confused- no one knew who you were. It was a funny scene; looks of confusion all over every guy's face- and looks of complicity on every woman's face.

"So ... Wait, you're here for inspiration?" Neon said- her face shifting slightly to a slightly smug look. "Yeah; I got a bit of a writer's block recently. I just figured that if I went in a new environments, I'd get a few ideas. My uncle Liam- er- Brimstone - said I could stay over for some time." You briefly explain, chuckling slightly.

"Oh boy- you know, now I am curious to know how this goes." The Latina spoke up once again, a smirk on her face. Pretty much every woman in the room nodded their heads, once again that look of complicity going around. That was until one of the guys decided to speak up- a man with caramel colored hair wearing a suit and glasses.

"Well, chérie, if it's inspiration you're looking for, look no further~" He said smugly, smirking as he spoke. There was a short silence in the room before pretty much every woman started laughing, you included. The man looked confused, wondering what had everyone laughing so much, maybe a missed joke he didn't catch on to? "What's so funny-?" He asked, trying to read the room and understand what's going on.

The white haired woman, still snickering, spoke up to answer. "Well- you're... You're probably not quite the type of inspiration she's looking for, quite frankly." She snickered out, grinning widely. "Well, unless she writes something corny- never know!" Neon said, laughing a bit harder. You giggled along, shaking your head. "Oh god no- I learned my lesson pretty fast not to write corny stuff. The Press didn't like it-" you said with a giggle, remembering what had happened last time you decided to write something a bit corny. Your fans definitely made their voices heard not to do that again-

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You got set up in your dorm pretty rapidly, it was a small cozy thing; and your uncle had been nice enough to get you a good desk setup so you'd be comfortable when writing. You had asked him for a double monitor setup and specifically an adjustable desk- plenty of little details you want too sure if he would be okay with, knowing that you were probably demanding a bit too much.

But you were pleasantly surprised to see that everything you asked for was done. You made sure to thank him properly, promising to take him out for dinner, all expenses paid by you as a thank you.

You quickly set up your laptop, already trying to get comfortable and ready to start typing- but once again the writers block persisted. You had no idea what even to start with, not even a brief idea for a story. You had an Excel spreadsheet open, that's usually how you kept track of your story, the timelines, any advancements on certain chapters, the amounts of words written already etc.

It felt odd to not have anything come to mind, you just needed an idea- you could go so far off of a small idea. But nothing.

You had already been introduced to pretty much everyone, a few exceptions considering that some agents were out on missions right now. But it was definitely nice to meet most of the women agents, knowing that most of them recognized you the moment someone mentioned one of your books. It also seemed to become a slight game in headquarters- where the title of some of your books gets mentioned but no one mentions what's it about. The guys just look very confused while the women understood it.

You decided to head to bed for the time being, hoping sleep would help you come up with an idea or two. You have been to bed and snuggled in the comfortable bed sheets- falling asleep surprisingly quickly the moment your head hit the pillow.

The next day you woke up at the crack of dawn- deciding to go and walk around headquarters and get a bit more familiar with the place. You were given a brief tour, but nothing too in depth. So, you took it upon yourself to explore bit, deciding to bring along one of your notebooks and a pen, just in case an idea came through.

So there you were, walking around in jogging pants, a sports bra, hair up in a clip and wearing glasses, walking around protocol with a hardcover pink strawberry printed notebook and a pen clipped onto your sports bra. You were walking down Halls at random, just looking around with curiosity.

That was until you reached the practice range. Curiosity got the better of you and you pushed open the doors, peeking inside the part of the building. At first you saw nothing- and decided to just walk in. You looked around the multiple training rooms, one being set up like a gym, a few others looking like target practice for shooting ranges- and a few that looked empty but had some fancy consoles in front of them.

You never been in a place like this, so you naturally looked around quite a bit, curiosity getting the better of you once Again. You we're in the far back of the training facility when someone else came in, not hearing the door open or close while you were looking at some scrapped robots.

What did however make you flinch was someone speaking up behind you- you hadn't heard them approach either, so it caught you by surprise. You let out a small yelp, turning around almost instantly as they were speaking. "Who are you and what are you doing here?" Is what the man behind you said- a tall Asian man with jet black hair and lilac eyes spoke.

You took a short moment before speaking - not only needing a second to get over getting scared shitless all of a sudden, but also to get over his looks. He was definitely handsome - but you had to remind yourself you weren't here for sightseeing. "Oh- uh- sorry- we haven't been introduced yet- I'm (Y/n)" you spoke clumsily, looking for your words every few seconds.

Sure, you could blame it on the fact that I was early morning and you weren't too used to waking up this early- but that would be a bold-faced lie. The man looked at you curiously - but his face stayed neutral. "I see. I'm Iso." He replied pretty simply, his hands being shoved inside his hoodie pockets.

"So, are you like .... A new agent here?" He asked you as he tried to keep a conversation, and you were realizing since you haven't been introduced he doesn't quite know you yet. You felt a bit stupid for not being a little more precise on your introduction, letting out a small sheepish laugh.

"Oh! No- sorry, I'm still waking up so I'm a bit slow haha... But no I'm not an agent, I'm Liam- I mean- Brimstone's niece, I'm only here for a temporary stay." You briefly explained, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly. "I'm a writer and I'm having a bit of a writer's block at the moment. I figured if I changed environments I might get an idea."

"No worries." Iso hummed out, nodding a bit as you spoke. "So an author looking for inspiration... In a base full of radiants that are constantly dealing with attacks and protecting this world's fate? That's... A choice." He said, slight amusement in his tone as he spoke, small smirk starting to form.

"Look, I already did quite a lot of different genres, I just needed something new. I really can't come up with an idea these past months, so... Doesn't hurt to try." You hummed out, smiling as you spoke, shrugging slightly. Iso nodded, once more letting out a small hum. Silence settled, and then he seemed to decide to move along with his day.

He simply sidestepped you, heading to one of the training rooms that looked empty but had that fancy console in the front. He tapped a few times on the console before walking in, taking a small gun out from its holster under his hoodie. It seemed to be a custom-made, it was purple, red and black, the purple parts almost looking like they were glowing.

You decided to walk over to the glass, wanting to see what goes on in there, once more curiosity getting the best of you. The was was that suddenly appeared, making you flinch at the loud noise. Then, robots of various sizes that also seem to have guns we're starting to rush through the maze of metal walls, Iso seeming to keep a rather unfazed look on his face.

He moved swiftly, avoiding most of the robots, holding his pistol at the ready. Whenever he got a clear shot he took it without hesitation- and you watched as one by one the robots dropped to the ground. He seemed to do some fancy thing with his hand before a purple shattered light left his hand and touched a few robots. He swung the corner, shooting rapidly and watching us these robots dropped with only a bullet.

You were in awe, you had never seen radiant powers in action before- you were leaning forward and looking for the bulletproof glass with a lot more interest now. What seemed like a habit for him was all new to you, and it had you captivated. You probably watched him train for 15 minutes, both impressed by his powers and impressed by his aim.

That was until a few more people entered the practice range building, most that you recognize. They thought it was a bit funny to see you so awestruck by simple radiant abilities - but not holding it against you considering you never were exposed to this type of world before. A few agents taunted you to come and watch them, and you couldn't resist. Seeing so much powers all at once was an experience - as all the things you saw in this training range were only things you thought happened in cinema.

It amused the agents, but they could also understand your reality that to you- a regular citizen- this type of thing wasn't a regular occurrence. Even the non radiant agents, just seeing what they could do and the technologies they had, once again that was only things you assumed would happen in cinema. You ended up spending the day in the practice range just observing everyone, looking like a child with stars in their eyes.

When most of the agents were pretty much done with their trainings, some would come by and tease you a bit once again- notably Harbor, the agent who seem to have control over water. He had decided to splash you slightly, sending a spritz of water on to you. You ended up tossing your notebook so it wouldn't get wet- and he kind of realized his error afterwards.

Jett was the first to swoop in as Harbor apologized- grabbing your notebook for you and giving him a smack behind the head while shooing him off. "What a dick- I swear he does that as a joke every damn time." Jet said, shaking her head as she raised her hand, creating a small gust of wind, nothing too strong- just strong enough to help you dry off of it. Even though you weren't too happy about getting wet-the situation just felt out of ordinary if not out of this world, so you weren't mad either.

"If I was an agent I probably would have been pissed- but everything about this is just so. .. wow." You said, looking once more in awe at the powers on display. Jett chuckled, smiling widely. "Understandable - you're pretty new to all of this. Trust me- what you see here is nothing. If you would see this shit we do on the field- it's so much cooler." She said a bit smugly. "Buuut... You can't really come on the field anyways. You'd probably be shot dead within seconds-" she giggled out softly, lowering her hand to cut off the gust of wind she was blowing your way.

You were practically almost dry already, taking back your notebook from her and tucking it back between your arm and hip. "Yeah, most likely. I never touched a firearm in my life-hell I don't even think I could defend myself even with a knife." You hummed out softly, smiling as you spoke.

"You never shot a gun?" Jett repeated, looking surprised. "You literally wrote scenes with so much precise descriptions on shooting a gun- ... Wait, were you never curious to even try?" She continued, her head tilting a bit to the side. "The joys of internet, you can find people giving the most accurate descriptions so that you don't have to figure it out yourself." You giggled out softly.

"Makes sense." Jett responded, a look of understanding on her face while she shrugged. "Well- do you want to try? You are in one of the best places to try it out if you do want to-" she said with a growing smirk. "I don't know if my uncle would be okay with that-" you started off; soon to be interrupted by the man in question.

Brimstone had just walked into the practice range himself, and the moment he overheard the word 'uncle', almost as if it was a spider sense, he was making his way over. "What would your uncle not be okay with?" He asked sternly as he crossed his arms over his chest, looking over you and Jett with a stern expression.

"Can (Y/n) try shooting a gun?" Jett asked, seeming completely unfazed by the stern look he had. Your eyes widened a bit- you didn't necessarily ask to try either, and you didn't want to get in trouble for being insinuated that you were. Before you could even argument back, Brimstone let out a small laugh. "Sure, but not with you, Jett. We all know you give little to no explanation on gun security when you're in charge."

You didn't expect him to say yes this easily- though Jett was pouting for being a bit called out. "I can make an effort-?" She tried once again, though her attempt was a bit sheepish. "Nope, last time you said that, Phoenix nearly shot himself in the head because you didn't tell him how to put the security on the gun." Brimstone said, shaking his head once again. You shuddered a bit at the thought-a bit shocked at how casual he was when talking about it.

"It was one time-... You okay there?" Jett cut herself off from her weak argument, seeing that you looked a bit pale. "... How are you guys so casual when talking about someone who nearly shot themselves-" you uttered out, baffled as you spoke. The two of them looked at each other, a short moment of realization once again hitting them- of course the type of conversation looked insane to you, once again you weren't from the same world that they were living in- your own reality just consisting of living normally.

"Oh, sweetheart - it's a normal occurrence here-" Brimstone started off a bit roughly. "But- don't worry too much. We have healers, and one of them can resurrect the dead. It's fine." Brimstone said casually, waving his hand around a bit. "Say fucking what now-" you instantly retorted back- once again looking absolutely baffled at the news.

It was at this moment that the two realized that you would need a lot of getting used to when staying here- Brimstone and Jett sharing a look for a short moment. "Anyways... Let's get back to the radiant powers later-" Jett said, trying to change the subject back to the previous one. "So- shooting guns? Whatcha say, (Y/n)?" Jett asked again, making finger guns your way as she tried to get your mind off the radiant powers for a moment.

"Uh... Sure- yeah.." you replied in a slightly baffled voice, only halfway paying attention to what she said. Brimstone chuckled, then quickly checked around to see who was still around the practice range, seeing if somebody who he trusted was going to be capable enough to explain how a gun worked was still around.

He spotted Iso, who was still in the simulation room doing his training. Even though he was a bit unimpressed by the fact that Iso had been training relentlessly all day once more- he was some with glad that he was still here. Brimstone made his way to the simulation room, pressing the button to stop it. Of course, Iso instantly looked up confused, wondering who cut off his training and why.

Iso made his way out of the room, opening the door slightly, peeking his head out. He was pretty sweaty from the relentless training- but that was just the type of thing he did quite often. "Is there something wrong?" Iso asked Brimstone, catching his breath as he spoke. "Other than you still not learning to take a damn break- no. Just wanted to know if you'd show (Y/n) how to shoot a gun."

Iso paused for a short moment, wiping the sweat off of his forehead with his sleeve. "Yeah, I can show her. But I thought she wasn't an agent?" He said- putting away his Sheriff into the gun holster around his waist. "She isn't, she just never shot a gun in her life. Its more out of curiosity than actual training. I just don't trust Jett to show her- and I'd rather not have my niece traumatized on day one." Brimstone Snickered out, a grin forming on his face.

"Makes sense." Iso hummed, finally walking out of the simulation room. He grabbed onto the water bottle he left just outside the door, taking a few large sips. "Great, thanks. Just- do us all a favor and don't talk about radiant powers yet. She's still trying to understand that Sage can resurrect people, and she's just looking at Jett like she's crazy." Brimstone said with a snicker once again, but this time he walked off to his own training room.

Iso nodded, looking up at confused but not questioning further. He took another short moment to catch his breath before making his way towards you and Jett. Jett was talking pretty animatedly beside you while you still look a bit pale, but nodded along to what she was saying. Iso cleared his throat, catching both of your attentions.

"Ah damn it, of course you're the favorite child. Fine - I see how it is- the pretty boy gets the rights to teaching." Jett mocked him lightly, all in good fun of course. Iso rolled his eyes at her, but a small smile tugged at his lips. "I was the only one still available, mind you." He said, his tone casual. Jett snickered out Softly, then gave you a pat on the shoulder to encourage you.

"You'll be in good hands- Iso is one of our best shots on the team! But to be fair he was an ex assassin - so he had to be a good shot whether he liked it or not-" Jett casually dropped once again, as if this was just regular common knowledge to have. You choked on air- "fucking what-" you mumbled out through your coughing, Jett once again realizing that maybe she spoke a bit too fast.

Iso facepalmed, giving Jett a half glare before waving her off, wanting her out of his hair before she started saying more stuff that would catch you off guard. You looked back up at him, this time with a slight unease. It wasn't personal- but considering you were still new to everything, to their reality where this type of thing was just normal- it made you just slightly uncomfortable.

And Iso took notice pretty fast. "I-... Look, it was an old job-" he started off up at awkwardly, but then realizing trying to explain it was pretty futile. He let out a sigh- she would just have to wait for you to get used to this a bit more, whether he likes it or not. "Just... Just follow me." He mumbled out, starting to walk towards one of the target practice ranges.

You reluctantly followed- stunned into silence. You were realizing just how much seem to be going on in their reality- just how different your lives were. You were definitely going to need a minute after all of this to collect your thoughts- but for now you just followed along. He stopped at a certain range that seemed free- opening a heavy metal cupboard that was at the entrance.

There was multiple different types of guns hanging inside the cupboard, ranging from pistols all the way to heavy snipers and machine guns. You've never seen this many guns all at once, even less had the choice to even touch one. You didn't know if he was trying to offer you quietly a choice or if he was going to pick one for you.

Iso took the hint- deciding to just start off with a pistol. He figured it would be best just to give you something small to begin with. He handed you a ghost, one of the smaller pistols that was easier to control and didn't have any knockback. "Here, we'll start small." He said, handing you the gun. He showed you the proper way to hold it and to make sure the security was on- then invited you to go inside the practice range. He walked in behind you, shutting the bulletproof door.

"Alright, since this is your first time shooting, I'm just going to show you how to properly hold and aim the gun." He briefly explained, walking up beside you. He was nearly in front of you, just correcting your posture quietly, readjusting your grip on the gun and how your arms were up, using one of his feet to gently kick yours to spread your legs up a bit more. Then he finished off by adjusting your shoulders a bit- taking a step back to make sure he didn't miss anything.

"... Looks good to me. Take the security off when you're ready and fire away." He said, stepping back to be behind you this time. You nodded, pressing on the side button that deactivated the security on the gun. When you heard the click-you know the moment you pulled the trigger a bullet would actually fly through. You had a sudden Rush of an adrenaline, not sure if you should actually pull the trigger or not.

Your hands were a bit sweaty and you tried not to get shaky- then let some excitement through and pull the trigger. Since the ghost had a silencer on it, it didn't resonate as loudly as you expected- but you still flinched. The gun still had a small knockback in your hands that you didn't quite expect, taking a moment to get over the small adrenaline rush. You fumbled a bit, since your hands were a bit sweaty the gun had slipped when you flinched, and you were trying to hold it back up properly.

Iso came up to you once again, this time staying behind you since the security was off. He simply wrapped his arms around you to fix your posture once again- making you tense up slightly. He didn't say a word as he did so, only taking a step back once you were back in the correct position. "There you go." He hummed out, going back to lean against the wall behind him.

You took a few more shots with the gun, the first few just aiming wherever as you got used to the weapon, then you actually tried aiming at the targets- but of course not being that good at it. You ended up emptying a whole mag, only realizing once you pulled the trigger again and there was just a simple click. You lowered the gun, still feeling some adrenaline from it, you instinctively put the security back on even if the mags are empty.

"Good reflex." Iso noted, his head nodding towards the gun. He didn't even need to tell you to keep the gun pointed to the ground if you weren't aiming it or to put the security back on once you were done- a smile on his face as he was proud you just did it without asking. "Thanks- I mean I read a lot about shooting again before- so I already had a brief idea of gun security-" you rambled on a bit, forcing yourself to bite your tongue at some point to not look like an idiot.

"... That's definitely an interesting thing to read about-" Iso said amusedly as he took the gun back, a small smile still on his face. You realize that just dropping that information casually probably sounded a bit weird- immediately trying to backtrack. "I wrote scenes where there was usage of guns- I just wanted to write something exact without looking like an idiot-" you muttered out - once again biting your tongue. But this time not because you didn't want to ramble on about gun security-more like you didn't want to ramble on about the other stuff you wrote.

Because you may or may not have taken extra time to read about gun security for... Other reasons than shooting. But you were definitely not going to rat yourself out like that. Iso didn't seem to question it further, just looking amused. He brought the ghost back to the cupboard, looking like he was taking a moment to ponder before pulling out a different gun. This time it was a bit bigger-walking back in the room with it.

"This is a specter, its an SMG with low penetration, it also has a silencer and-" He started to say, then taking a short moment to pause. He realized that getting too technical with guns would probably serve no purpose, considering you weren't actually training. He instead decided to be more vague. "It's an automatic gun, it shoots fast. It does not that much knockback, but you're still going to want to hold it tightly against your shoulder."

You nodded, and he once again place the gun properly in your hands. He took the time to correct how you held it to make sure that you wouldn't have any issues- pressing it comfortably on your shoulder and once again just kicking your feet slightly to be positioned correctly. "... There. Now remember, hold the gun firmly on your shoulder. If it's not firm enough, the knock back is just going to hurt." He said, once again stepping back to lean on the wall behind you.

You were nervous once again, not that you had a bit of a bigger gun in your hands, you weren't too sure how to feel about it. But once again curiosity got the better of you, taking off the security and deciding to pull the trigger. You weren't expecting much- and the gun immediately went upward with the few bullets you shot. "Woah-" you let out surprised, taking your finger off the trigger instantly to reposition.

"Automatic guns do tend to do that, just try to expect it- and shoot a few bullets at a time, not all at once." He instructed behind you-arms crossed in front of his chest as he patiently explained it to you. You were thankful that he was being so patient-taking one step at a time. You nod and try again, trying to take his advice. It was easier said than done- you had no experience controlling this type of gun, and no matter how hard you try, you ended up emptying the mag while shooting generally above the targets the whole time.

Once more, you put the security on the gun while pointing it out the floor when you were done, handing it back. "Yikes- gun shooting definitely isn't for me. I'll stick to typing-" you said a bit sheepishly, hands still sweaty from the adrenaline of getting to shoot a weapon. Iso chuckled out softly, taking back the gun as he led you out of the target room.

He went to put it back away, securing it in the cupboard before shutting it, putting the lock back on. "Understandable. Don't worry about it too much, you're just trying it out anyways." Iso chuckled out softly, turning back to look at you. You were picking up your notebook, tucking it back in its spot between your hip and arm.

"When did you start using firearms?" You ended up asking curiously, looking back up at him. He paused for a brief moment, looking like he was thinking about it. "Hmm... Like since I was... 16?" He said, not sounding fully sure with his answer, looking like he was trying to recall exactly.

You try not to choke once again- surprised to know that he was handling firearms before being an adult. "Oh-... And how old are you now-?" You asked again, trying to give yourself a brief idea of his experience. "I'm 24." He replied, this time confidently. You we're trying to give yourself a brief idea of his life- considering the tidbit of information that was given to you earlier.

You got a bit lost in thought, and Iso quietly observed you for a few moments. He could see the gears turning in your head, at first just letting you trying to figure it out on your own, then deciding to speak up. "You can just ask, you know. I don't have much to hide." He said, a small smirk on his face as he spoke nonchalantly.

You flinched slightly in Surprise, your free arm going up to your neck to rub it sheepishly. "Oh- uh- ... Well then- ... How long were you a... Well- hitman?" You asked awkwardly, once more trying to not sound too weird when talking about it. This was all still new to you and you were trying to wrap your head around it without sounding disrespectful in any way.

" About 5 years. Started at 17, finished at 23." He said, nodding along as he spoke. You gave a slow nod, almost as if realization of his reality was slowly sinking in. 5 years where his job was to ruthlessly kill people? And yet he looked so nice- it just didn't want to register in your head. You once again quieted down- this time not staring his way to not look like you were oogling over him uncomfortably.

Iso once more broke the silence. "You know that pretty much everyone here has killed for a living before- or has to kill for a living now? Like the whole point of valorant protocol is to constantly fight-which inevitably means killing people." He said, cocking an eyebrow as he spoke in amusement, watching as you had a moment of realization.

You gave another slow nod, observing the information as you could. "Yeah... I'm realizing that now." You mumbled out with another slow nod. He chuckled out softly, amused to see you in this state. "Well, if you're going to be staying for a while, may as well get used to it." He said, smirking as he spoke.

"Well... On the bright side- can't have a better place to ask about realistic ways to write certain deaths-" You said, trying to lighten your mood by joking around a bit- letting out a small laugh as you spoke. Iso chuckled along, nodding with his smirk. "True. If you need ideas, you can ask. Or ask anyone- you'd be surprised the amount of people who've been assassins here." He said nonchalantly, shrugging. You simply nodded, trying to brush off the fact that there was more than just one Hitman in the group.

"What do you usually write about anyways? Would it be like police novels?" Iso asked, taking a small guess on what you could be writing-considering you talked about ways to kill people and gun security, he assumed you wrote police novels. Or at least, something in the lines of that considering it was what made more sense.

You didn't want to rat yourself out of course- and since you did technically write police novels (of course with your well know erotic twist in the novels), you just nodded. "Yeah, I wrote some police novels... I do a couple of different genres." You said, staying vague. Thankfully you didn't need to find a lame excuse to escape this conversation- your stomach loudly growled just after you spoke, reminding you you haven't eaten anything today.

"fuck- I'm sorry, I think I'll just head out to eat. I just realized I've been here all day- it's just now hitting me." You said, one of your hands instinctively going to your stomach as you could already feel a small cramp starting to form. Iso nodded in understanding, giving you a small wave. "No worries, go eat." He simply said, watching as you bid goodbye and left.

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Back in your dorm, you ate something small and light, not much in the mood to have a heavy meal considering you didn't have anything else to eat all day. You ate a chicken salad, sitting on your bed with your open notebook, taking small notes. You didn't have an exact idea yet, but still, you thought it was interesting the things you heard about today, and you were noting it all down in hopes that maybe it could be used in your new book.

You continue taking notes until pretty late at night, just letting your mind go Haywire on the paper as you wrote-both taking note of all the things that Iso had said, keeping things in a reference from when you shot the guns, even noting some of the powers that you've got to witness by just observing the agents train today. All of it- you just took notes and hoped that at some point you'd have an idea.

When you looked up again you saw that it was 2 in the morning, forcing yourself to shut the notebook before taking a quick shower- getting through with your night time routine and then heading to bed. You ended up falling asleep around 3 am after all of that; meaning you were knocked out until pretty late in the morning the next day.