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obsessivelyloved · 26 days

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This was requested on one of my nsfw blogs but I went insane and made it 3,000 words long. So I can post most of it here lol. Just know that in my heart, this takes place in Arkham. Also I'm super rusty so I apologize if anything feels off/wonky. The ending is abrupt here bc the rest of it/the ending is nsfw. I was up til 5am writing this and I'm not writing a sfw ending for this blog until after i get more sleep.

Anon asks: I’m a big sucker for Psych Au fics. Reader is a cis female doctor who treats Tord with kindness. He becomes obsessed with her. Refuses to talk to any other doctor. Tord is always on his best behavior for her which leads her to let her guard down. BIG MISTAKE

___________________________________________________________

“You dropped this.”

The man stares at you wide eyed as you hand him his lighter. He stands, rigid. You give him a gentle smile and press it into his palm, your other hand curling around the back of his hand.

“I know there’s no fluid in it, so you don’t have to worry about me taking it,” you say to him. You pat his hand and step away.

The man turns fully towards you and you’re able to read the name sewed onto his shirt.

“I-” the man- Tord- swallows hard. He quickly pockets the lighter. “Thank you.”

You give him another smile and walk past him. He seemed to be going the same way as you but he never caught up. Nor did you hear footsteps behind you. Once you reach the director’s office, he leaves your thoughts. You were determined to make a good first impression on your first day of the job.

The man you met earlier had turned out to be your first patient. And oh boy, what a patient he was. Like you had promised yourself you weren’t going to judge any of these people but god damn. His file was thick. At least twenty papers were inside the manilla folder you had received from the head director’s office. Maybe even more.

You’d never know if you kept standing outside the director’s office gawking at it. You take a deep breath. Going through it sitting down was probably a good idea. As you make your way to the breakroom, your grip on the folder is tight, trying your best to make sure you don’t drop it and reveal your patient's file.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take you long to get to the breakroom. A few people were there but they paid you no mind. They sit, hunched over lunch or their own files. You sit and start to read.

Løvik Tord

3 7 2 5 9

DOB: 1995

Age: 28

Hair: Dark brown with lighter brown roots

Eye: Silver

You end up skimming through this until you get to the bottom of the page. It wasn’t… pretty.

CASE INFORMATION:

Tord is a violent man. He is aggressive, manipulative, and has a short temper. Many doctors have tried working with him to no avail. He does not respond kindly to Dr.Casey (see page 5), Dr.Bonnie (see page 8), Dr.Roxy (see page 12), or Dr.Harley (see page 15).

He is extremely aggressive towards Dr. Bruce (see page 20).

You stop reading there, your chest feeling tight. You flip to page twenty. It’s not the last page like you had hoped. There were still…. Quite a bit in the file.

Dr.Bruce has tried everything he can to help Tord. He has tried finding common ground with the patient. Has tried being lax and strict with Tord’s schedule. Has tried working with Tord and letting him sit outside. Tord had found every loophole and burned every bridge until Dr.Bruce stopped lenient treatments. Tord stabbed Dr.Bruce fifteen times before guards made their way into the room.

It is unknown how and where he had gotten his hands on a sharp long blade. Tord was seen licking the blood of-

“Don’t worry if you can’t fix him. At this point, Doctor Markman hands his case off to fresh blood to showcase this place. No one expects you to be able to tame him.”

You startle at the voice, goosebumps raised on your arms. “I’m sorry?” you ask with a polite smile. Anger clouded your fear. What the hell was this person talking about?

The doctor, Alice, her name tag reads, smiles at you.

“Nearly everyone has tried working with him at this point,” she continues. “No one expects him to ever get better. He's here for murder, after all.”

You give her a tight smile in return. “I’ll just have to see for myself.”

Before she can keep going, you straighten up the papers and close the folder.

“I appreciate the advice, but I must be going now,” you lie through your teeth. What bullshit! What kind of doctors run this place?

You actually hadn’t needed to be anywhere for another thirty minutes but if this conversation continued you wouldn’t be able to hold your tongue. Everyone can be saved. With compassion and kindness and help, no one was beyond redemption. Or too far gone for help.

You storm out of the breakroom and wander.

“I was hoping I’d see you again.”

Tord grins at you as he’s escorted in. His hands are cuffed and before he can sit down, the guard pats him down.

It makes your stomach churn but you keep your face kind.

“It’s nice to see you too,” you greet. You watch cautiously as he sits down in the plush chair. The guard leaves the room.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

It’s silent enough to hear the clock as the two of you study each other. He seems to drink you in, eyes wandering up and down, seeming to take in everything. You’d do the same if you weren’t a professional.

“You used to dye your hair?”

Tord raises an eyebrow. He tilts his head a little, eyes focused solely on you. It unnerves you almost as much as his file had. No patient of yours had ever stared at you so intensely in the past….

After a moment, he answers. “Yes. I fancied black quite a bit.” He gestures towards his roots. “It’s been a while since Bruce got me more dye. No one else will.”

“I could look into it,” you clasp your hands, jumping into this opportunity. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll talk to Doctor Marksman.”

“And what do you want from me in return?”

“I’m sorry?”

His gaze hardens. “What. do. You. want.” He grinds out, his body rigid in the chair. His hands were clenched.

Without thinking, puzzlement falls across your face. What did he mean? What did you want? For him to get better, obviously.

“I want you to be at ease with your mental health,” you answer, still looking puzzled. “I don’t want anything else from this job but that. I’m not dangling hair dye in front of you in exchange. I want you to feel comfortable in your skin and at home here, Mr.Løvik.”

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

“Is that really what you want?” Tord asks, an emotion you can’t quite place in his voice. “To help me get better?”

Whatever it may be, you smile at him.

“Of course. I want nothing but to see you succeed and be happy here.”

Things were easier after that first session. You always started off kindly, asking Tord how his day was going. If his favorite show or movie had aired on the television today.If his favorite food had been served that morning or afternoon. If he slept fine through the dreadful storm.

(“I know I wasn’t,” you had laughed. “I tossed and turned, jumping at each sound all night.”

“I’m sure your boyfriend was quite displeased.”

“Oh,” you chuckle. “Well, no. I have a cat but no boyfriend. I was too busy getting my decree to ever really mingle like that. Though, my poor little man was also distraught at all the thunder last night. He yowled at my door until I let him into my room and he curled up on my bed. I’ll bring pictures next time.”)

Too well for you and only you. Tord refused to talk to anyone but you. He would sit in silence or insult other doctors during his sessions. In one instance, he broke a new doctor’s nose. The poor guy had quit on the spot, cussing Tord and the whole place out as he was escorted to the medical section.

You were tense the next few sessions but that violent man was nowhere to be found. He kept his cuffed hands right in front where you can see them at all times. He never lunged from you. In fact, barely ever moved in his chair.

Tord was easygoing. Polite, charming, even. He took any medications he needed obediently and put up no fuss when you’d have him describe in later sessions how he was feeling and if he was feeling any negative side effects.

He asked about your cat. About how your favorite show was going. If the movie you were looking forward to has come out yet. If your favorite restaurant down the street from your apartment was still closed for renovations.

Eventually, enough time had passed that you relaxed. You stopped keeping your eyes trained on his hands. You stopped worrying yourself sick about his body language. You focused on his treatments and his mental health.

If he was going to hurt me he would have done so by now, you thought to yourself after your latest session with Tord. He was doing so much better than he had been doing six months ago. It seemed as if you were really making a difference, helping him improve.

It had been three months since he last fought another patient. Two months since he assaulted another doctor. And five months since he refused treatment of any kind.

You step outside the building and take a deep breath. A dopey smile sticks to your face as you walk to your car. Becoming a doctor was the best choice you’ve ever made. Nothing was more rewarding than helping people. Not even this cloudy weather could bring you down.

In fact, nothing tried to drag your mood down. There was no traffic on the way home. Some asshole hadn’t parked in your assigned parking spot again in the parking lot of your apartment. And your sweet cat hadn’t knocked his little box over again.

You happily reheat your leftovers and watch tv for a while before you get ready for bed. Unfortunately, your mood does come crashing down.

In the middle of the night, thunder wakes you. You jolt up, scrambling for your phone. Your hands come up empty. Shit, you think. I left it charging in the kitchen. Ugh. Oh well, you don’t need to look at your phone to see it is late and storming.

Another loud sound booms through your apartment. Only this time, it sounds like a crash.

“It’s just thunder,” you tell yourself. “Nothing to be afraid of.” You lay back down. Your eyes shut and you’re just about drifting to sleep when your door creeks open.

You bolt up, knowing damn well that your cat can’t open doors and you freeze.

Your heart races as your mind tries to process just who was in front of you.

“Tord?” you whimper, hands shaking. But that can’t be. That was impossible. He was supposed to be sleeping soundly in his room with the soundproof headphones you got him. He didn’t like storms. The thunder reminded him too much of gunshots and made him restless.

Useless information floods your brain.

“I’m home, sweetheart,” he rasps. His grin is soft in the moonlight. He reaches over to flick on your bedroom light.

He’s gentle he’s kind he’s sweet he’s-

He’s covered in blood.

Tord steps forward and you’re frozen in bed. His eyes are wild as they drink you in. There’s blood on his hands. In his hair. Splatters on his face.

“Oh honey how I’ve dreamed of this,” he croons at the foot of your bed. “Your apartment is just as cute as you described.”

#tw yandere #yandere tw #yandere tord #yandere tord x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere fic #yandere x you #yandere x female reader

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xxdark-obsessionxx · 26 days

Note

I’m a big sucker for Psych Au fics. Reader is a cis female doctor who treats Tord with kindness. He becomes obsessed with her. Refuses to talk to any other doctor.

Tord is always on his best behavior for her which leads her to let her guard down.

BIG MISTAKE

I was supposed to be asleep five hours ago but I couldn’t until I finished this. Just know that in my heart, this takes place in Arkham. Also I'm super rusty so I apologize if anything feels off/wonky.

CW: Noncon

Dark themes ahead, please read at your own discretion and keep yourself safe. This is a work of fiction and I do not condone or support scenarios like this in real life

_____________________________________________

“You dropped this.”

The man stares at you wide eyed as you hand him his lighter. He stands, rigid. You give him a gentle smile and press it into his palm, your other hand curling around the back of his hand.

“I know there’s no fluid in it, so you don’t have to worry about me taking it,” you say to him. You pat his hand and step away.

The man turns fully towards you and you’re able to read the name sewed onto his shirt.

“I-” the man- Tord- swallows hard. He quickly pockets the lighter. “Thank you.”

You give him another smile and walk past him. He had seemed to be going the same way as you but he never caught up. Nor did you hear footsteps behind you. Once you reach the director’s office, he leaves your thoughts. You were absolutely determined to make a good first impression on your first day of the job.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take you long to get to the breakroom. A few people were there but they paid you no mind. They sit, hunched over lunch or their own files. You sit and start to read.

Løvik Tord

3 7 2 5 9

DOB: 1995

Age: 28

Hair: Dark brown with lighter brown roots

Eye: Silver

You end up skimming through this until you get to the bottom of the page. It wasn’t… pretty.

CASE INFORMATION:

He is extremely aggressive towards Dr. Bruce (see page 20).

You stop reading there, your chest feeling tight. You flip to page twenty. It’s not the last page like you had hoped. There were still…. Quite a bit in the file.

It is unknown how and where he had gotten his hands on a sharp long blade. Tord was seen licking the blood of-

“Don’t worry if you can’t fix him. At this point, Doctor Markman hands his case off to fresh blood to showcase this place. No one expects you to be able to tame him.”

You startle at the voice, goosebumps raised on your arms. “I’m sorry?” you ask with a polite smile. Anger clouded your fear. What the hell was this person talking about?

The doctor, Alice, her name tag reads, smiles at you.

“Nearly everyone has tried working with him at this point,” she continues. “No one expects him to ever get better. He's here for murder, after all.”

You give her a tight smile in return. “I’ll just have to see for myself.”

Before she can keep going, you straighten up the papers and close the folder.

“I appreciate the advice, but I must be going now,” you lie through your teeth. What bullshit! What kind of doctors run this place?

You storm out of the breakroom and wander.

“I was hoping I’d see you again.”

Tord grins at you as he’s escorted in. His hands are cuffed and before he can sit down, the guard pats him down.

It makes your stomach churn but you keep your face kind.

“It’s nice to see you too,” you greet. You watch cautiously as he sits down in the plush chair. The guard leaves the room.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

“You used to dye your hair?”

Tord raises an eyebrow. He tilts his head a little, eyes focused solely on you. It unnerves you almost as much as his file had. No patient of yours had ever stared at you so intensely in the past….

After a moment, he answers. “Yes. I fancied black quite a bit.” He gestures towards his roots. “It’s been a while since Bruce got me more dye. No one else will.”

“I could look into it,” you clasp your hands, jumping into this opportunity. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll talk to Doctor Marksman.”

“And what do you want from me in return?”

“I’m sorry?”

His gaze hardens. “What. do. You. want.” He grinds out, his body rigid in the chair. His hands were clenched.

Without thinking, puzzlement falls across your face. What did he mean? What did you want? For him to get better, obviously.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

“Is that really what you want?” Tord asks, an emotion you can’t quite place in his voice. “To help me get better?”

Whatever it may be, you smile at him.

“Of course. I want nothing but to see you succeed and be happy here.”

(“I know I wasn’t,” you had laughed. “I tossed and turned, jumping at each sound all night.”

“I’m sure your boyfriend was quite displeased.”

It had been three months since he last fought another patient. Two months since he assaulted another doctor. And five months since he refused treatment of any kind.

You happily reheat your leftovers and watch tv for a while before you get ready for bed. Unfortunately, your mood does come crashing down.

Another loud sound booms through your apartment. Only this time, it sounds like a crash.

“It’s just thunder,” you tell yourself. “Nothing to be afraid of.” You lay back down. Your eyes shut and you’re just about drifting to sleep when your door creeks open.

You bolt up, knowing damn well that your cat can’t open doors and you freeze.

Your heart races as your mind tries to process just who was in front of you.

Useless information floods your brain.

“I’m home, sweetheart,” he rasps. His grin is soft in the moonlight. He reaches over to flick on your bedroom light.

He’s gentle he’s kind he’s sweet he’s-

He’s covered in blood.

Tord steps forward and you’re frozen in bed. His eyes are wild as they drink you in. There’s blood on his hands. In his hair. Splatters on his face.

“Oh honey how I’ve dreamed of this,” he croons at the foot of your bed. “Your apartment is just as cute as you described.”

He grabs the edge of your blanket and pulls it off. His smile grows sappy. “You did go for the red pants like I suggested.” He giggles, staring between your legs. “I wonder if there’s a match beneath them.”

That snaps you out of your shocked stupor. You scramble off your bed, slamming your head hard against your nightstand as you try to avoid Tord’s lunging grasp.

You lay fetal on the floor, tears in your eyes as you clutch your head. “Fuck,” you hiss.

Tord clicks his tongue. He slowly climbs off your bed, crouching next to you. “My poor clumsy sweetheart.”

You feel his hands in your hair.

“What do you want?” you gasp. Fear and pain mix as you start to cry into your carpet.

His hands stroke your hair.

“You.”

With that, you’re powerless to stop him as he scoops you up into his arms. You thrash as he dumps you back onto your bed, pinning you down.

“I know you're scared but it’s ok. I’ll be gentle, my love. So gentle.”

Your mind can’t wrap your head around what’s happening. Tord isn’t supposed to be tying your wrists to your headboard. He isn’t supposed to be kissing your neck and grinding his hard arousal between your legs. He isn’t supposed to be in your home.

“Such a good girl, staying still for me,” Tord says softly as he pulls back. He slides your pants down. Disappoint clouds his eyes when he sees your panties aren’t red but it’s deepened when he pulls those down and you’re barely wet.

“It’s ok sweets. I’ll figure out what gets you going. There’s nothing to be ashamed of in needing help.”

Anger wells in your chest as Tord fishes for something in one of his pockets. How dare he. How dare he parrot your own advice back at you. As if this was a simple therapy session. As if you were the patient and he was the doctor wanting to help.

“Get off me!” you snarl. “You know this isn’t right Tord. Y-you’re sick! You need help!”

Tord stops what he’s doing to stare dead eyed at you. He plucks a clean rag off your nightstand and stuffs it into your mouth.

“Enough of that,” he scolds. “You need this as much as I do. In fact, doctors orders.”

He grins at his own twisted joke. He fishes through his pockets again and pulls out a small bottle of lube. “Yes, just what my love needs. A good thorough fuck.”

You desperately try to spit the rag out but your mouth is too dry. You twist and tug your wrists but to no avail. This was happening. Your gentle, sweet patient was going to take your virginity.

Tord carefully squirts lube onto his fingers, rubbing them together. He parts your folds, humming appreciatively as he rubs your clit.

“That’s it, my good girl. Get nice and wet for me.”

You feel sick. Against your will, his crooning and his touches stir up arousal inside you. You close your eyes as he gently fingers you as if he was searching for something.

A minute later, your eyes fly open as he jabs something horrible. Your pussy grows slick from it, pleasure building in your lower stomach.

“There it is.”

You shake your head violently. Not there, you try to plead with your eyes. Anywhere but there!

But Tord merely smiles at you and ruthlessly abuses that spot. Over and over his fingers jab and curl, rubbing it. You squeeze your eyes tight, small moans making their way out of your throat as pleasure jolts through you.. His thumb strokes your clit and you cum embarrassedly fast. You stare at the ceiling and wish you hadn’t wanted to cum at all.

“Good girl,” Tord praises. He pulls his fingers out, eying them appreciatively. He sticks them in his mouth and sucks, moaning. “So sweet. But I’m too impatient to try it from the source. You’ll have to forgive me, my love.”

Panic jolts up your spine as you feel his tip pressing against your entrance. You try to climb up your bed rest but you only achieve getting a little higher up on your pillows. Tord sighs and presses forward.

“It’ll hurt for a moment but I promise this will feel good,” Tord tries to soothe. He picks up the lube and squeezes more into his palm and strokes himself.

You hate him. You hate him with all your heart.

He pushed forward and once again, you squeezed your eyes tight. His hand roughly grabs your throat.

“Eyes on me,” he snaps. “I want to see how good I make you feel.”

The fear overturns the pain and you quickly open your eyes. He pushes further in, reaching down to run your clit.

Tord rocks his hips a little, eyes starstruck as he stares down at you. “You’re getting wetter,” he mumbles to himself. A grin spreads across his face.

His hips snap forward, setting a firm pace. He stops rubbing your clit to grab under your thighs. He lifts them up and pushes until they’re almost touching your breasts.

He thrusts harder and-

You squeal, bucking your hips as he hits that horrible spot. You can’t stop bucking your hips, jolts of pleasure stabbing your stomach and stars in your eyes.

Tord pressed closer to you, caging you in. He holds your gaze intensely, panting a little. His eyes dart between your face and your bouncing tits.

Like earlier, you cum fast. This one hits you harder. And Tord doesn’t stop.

You cum again and he pulls out. “Move and I’ll beat your ass with a belt,” he growls. He pulls out a switchblade and cuts the rope off your headboard. He’s quick to tie your wrists together.

You find yourself on your stomach, ass up. Tord firmly holds your hips. He enters again, pressing down against you. Caging you against the mattress as he pounds into your pussy hard. By the time you’re cumming again, he finally cums with you.

You’re crying by this point. Overstimulation has you cringing, your pussy tingling as he pulls out. Once again, you start to panic. Tord had come inside you. You thrash underneath him.

“Stop that,” he hisses, slapping your ass hard. You cry harder as he does it another three times. And another, until you finally go still.

You hear Tord sigh harshly. “I need to be patient with you,” he mumbles to himself. He gets off of you and you hear him leave the room.

He’s back within minutes, holding a wet hand towel. You’re gently turned over onto your back and he softly cleans you up. You can’t look at him.

“Mrrow.”

Your heart jolts. Your cat jumps onto the bed, purring as Tord pets him with his clean hand. Traitor.

“You rest while I pack,” Tord says softly. He leans down to press a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll grab everything you need and love for our new home.”

He climbs off the bed and leaves the room again. He comes back with duffel bags. Your cat paddles up to you and curls up next to you. He purrs hard as you sob your eyes out.

#tw yandere #yandere #tw noncon #yandere noncon #yandere tord x reader #cw noncon #cw yandere #yandere smut #yandere lemon #noncon tw #noncon cw #yandere x reader #yandere fic #yandere tord #yandere x you #tw dark fic #yandere sinsworld #sinsworld

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signalhill-if · 1 year

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The Veterinarian - Short Story

To celebrate Test Run going into early access, I'd like to share last month's short story with you folks. I'm also just really excited to share it in general. Here's how Doc met one of the other cast members... Word count: 1.6k

It was a warm Tuesday evening in mid-May, the light pushing its way in through the window was starting to wane, and a young veterinarian was manning the desk at his newly founded medical practice. A powder blue typewriter sat in front of him, its keys rhythmically striking the page as he typed. His handwriting was practically illegible- it wasn't something you needed to learn in order to set a broken leg or inject into a vein. And a photocopier was too expensive anyway. So his funding requests (charity requests, really) would have to be copied by hand, letter by letter, ten or twenty or fifty times.

Today was quiet- even with a price tag of free, not many people were aware of his practice. Sometimes there would be days of silence, with no patients in sight. But the monotony of the rapid thunks against paper was broken by a creaking sound on the other side of the room. The front door. Its hinges were rusty. This place used to be a butcher's shop before the raids drove it out of business. Nothing had been replaced, just scrubbed to within an inch of its life.

Emil's eyes flicked up from his work to watch the approach. The door swung slowly open, and a young man hobbled in from the warm wind outside. He cut an interesting figure- wobbling slightly on one leg, his body long and sinewy, his face mostly hidden by a shock of blonde hair. There was lipstick smeared down his chin. His outfit was mostly obscured by a rough-spun shawl draped over his shoulders, but under it Emil could see a hint of a red slip and fishnet stockings. The fact that he was wearing heels made his unsteady gait even worse.

"I'm afraid I'm a little worse for wear, doc," the man muttered. There was a nervous laughter under it all, like he couldn't contain his irreverence for even a moment. "You don't charge, right? I can't really afford it."

Standing up from his chair, Emil approached the limping man. His voice was tinged with concern. "What happened?"

"You should see how the other guy looks," the guy muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm... not doing so hot. I came here cause Tomas said you deal with people like us."

It had only been a few months, but the people had already started to blend out into stories. Remembering a single name like that would be like remembering a single letter of a novella. Context clues would be necessary. "People like who?" He rested a hand on the man's back to start leading him to one of the cots.

"Queers." Oh. The word coming from this man's stained lips was weighed down with baggage that Emil could sense but not understand. "Boys who wear dresses."

The young man allowed himself to be led over to the cot. His leg was certainly broken, though not badly. He had bruises forming on his arms and upper thighs, and one on the left side of his face. Not in any recognizable pattern, at least not without further inspection. He must have been beaten, kicked, maybe by a group. "What's your name?"

There was a pause before he responded. "Yvette." It was hard to tell if it was fake, or if he simply used enough of them that he had to pick which to use. Probably the last one.

As he lowered himself onto the bed, Yvette inhaled sharply and gripped the metal frame with an unsteady hand. "Jesus, doc, I think it's broken..."

"I think so too." Emil kneeled down next to him, his hands tentatively grazing against the fishnets. "I'll need you to remove the stockings, though. With minimal movement. I need to splint it so it will heal correctly."

"Oh my," he muttered, a smile flickering across his lips. The opportunity to jeer at Emil was overriding whatever pain he was in. Normally, I'd expect men to take me to dinner first! Or pay me, at least."

Emil clenched his jaw. He wasn't going to let this phase him. Not even as his cheeks flushed and he averted his eyes. He had to make this interaction normal at all costs. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened to you?"

"Sometimes when a guy sees a pretty girl, he just can't help but drag him into an alley and beat him half to death. Hormones." He said it with such nonchalance. This wasn't unexpected for him.

What was unexpected was the way Yvette hiked up his dress enough to start peeling the fishnets down his thighs. Not enough to be explicit, but a clear invitation. Look, if you'd like. Emil was sure to avert his eyes after catching a glimpse of red lace.

"I'll just be a moment... I need to fetch a splint." Standing up bolt straight, Emil rushed back to his office. Yes, that was where he kept most of his medical supplies. It was also an enclosed space away from this patient. And he needed that right now, if only for a moment.

Bracing his arm against the wall, he took a deep breath. His eyes caught his face in the mirror hanging on the wall. His cheeks and softly freckled nose were flushed, and a bit of sweat was accumulating on his brow. He'd been running this clinic for only a short while, and he felt utterly unprepared to deal with even the most remotely difficult of patients.

A deep breath. He ran his fingers through his crop of dark hair. Unphased. He was going to be unphased.

After collecting his supplies (and himself), Emil stepped back out into the clinic. The patient was reclining on his cot, the pain still evident but not nearly writhing in it like a lot of folks would be. Maybe on opiates? Such a thing wouldn't be uncommon with these lower-city genderfuck types. Take an upper to party, a downer to relax after all that partying, and another upper to keep from falling asleep... and on. Or maybe he was just really good at hiding it.

"You're lucky, the fracture is quite minimal. You'll be up on your feet again in just a few days." Emil quickly set to work wrapping tight cloth bandages around Yvette's leg, starting right at the ankle and moving upwards. "Until then, you shouldn't put too much weight on it or do any strenuous exercise."

"That's horrible," Yvette complained with a hint of a grin. "However will I live without my daily hikes? What about the weightlifting contest on Monday?" Lying there, half propped up on his arms, swimming in his shawl, he looked like a model out of a fancy old painting. Something you'd see on auction in one of those upscale shops in The Heights.

Soon, Emil had finished applying the splint. He ran his fingers over the handiwork, feeling the shape of Yvette's calf under his fingertips. And then he stood up. "That should heal well. I'm afraid there's very little I can do for the bruises, but you don't seem to have any other fractures."

"Thank you so much, doc." He overpronounced every word, holding out a dainty hand with chipped red nail polish. Beckoning. "Come here, let me thank you properly."

Reluctantly, Emil stepped closer. Close enough for Yvette to grab his wrist and pull him in all at once. In half a second he was leaning down with his hands planted on the frame and the cot, his face next to the patient's. The young man's lips grazed his cheek, leaving a delicate kiss. In a hushed tone he muttered, "I wish there was something I could do to repay you for helping me out like this..."

"I don't accept payment for my services." The flush was coming back to Emil's cheeks. He was trying desperately to stay professional.

Yvette's lips got even closer to Emil's ear as he muttered, "How about if you ever need my services, they're free of charge?"

Emil didn't need to question what kind of services he meant. He straightened up, his face hot. "If you need a place to stay while that leg heals... my beds are open until a higher-priority patient needs them." Both of them glanced around the room in unison, remembering that they were completely alone, with two other cots unoccupied.

The next few days were quiet as well. The practice was new, after all. There were periods of relative peace, and periods of intense business. In truth, Emil had hoped it would get busy once Yvette showed up. It didn't.

He wasn't quiet, either. They spoke about his concerns, about how money was tight and clients weren't going to be interested in him for weeks until the bruising got better. They spoke about the city they'd grown up in, how different everything was from their youth. They spoke about work, with Emil trying his hardest to pretend he wasn't interested in this particular topic. And they spoke about each other's bodies, a week or so later, lying next to each other in the warm embrace of Emil's bed.

Running his fingertips along Yvette's side, feeling the bone just under the skin of his hip, Emil muttered, "I don't know how you convinced me to do that. It should go without saying, but sleeping with a patient isn't very professional."

"It was inevitable," Yvette teased. "I always get what I want, doc."

"So what do you want now?"

Yvette paused for a moment, his eyes fluttering shut. His hair was splayed out on the pillow, his makeup still smudged and never removed. "Right now, I want a glass of wine, a massage, and a nice relaxing bubble bath. In the future... I'd like to be a friend, not a patient."

Sighing and letting himself sink down into the mattress, Emil muttered, "I guess if you always get what you want..."

#i hope y'all like this ahhhhhhhh #i wrote this over a month ago but i still love it so much #these two.......... good characters #short story #ch: doc #ch: yvette #signal hill

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whumpdoyoumean · 11 months

Text

Writing Sketch #1

About a month ago I made this post about doing a writing equivalent of posting sketches, and then promptly didn't do anything about it. Well I'm finally posting one! All of these will be tagged with "writing sketch" and "writing doodles"

This is a fic idea that I had and started writing when I was in high school (circa 2015). It's a Teen Wolf AU set in the world of the UnWind series by Neal Schusterman. In it, Stiles and Scott are runaways (AWOLs) being chased by Peter Hale. Derek, known as the Alpha, helps runaways escape to a hidden community that provides refuge to AWOL kids (Isaac, Allison, Lydia, Jackson, Erica, and Boyd were all going to be there). Melissa was going to be there as a nurse, and the Sheriff was also going to be there in some capacity. I never ended up writing the thing (except what's below), but it was going to be whumpy as hell (obviously)

xxx

“Stiles, we’re three hundred miles from home. I highly doubt anyone knows us here. I’ve still got a little cash, and we haven’t had a decent meal in days. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Stiles snorted. “Oh, I dunno Scott. It could be that news has gotten out about two rogue AWOLS who tranq Juvie cops. We could be taken by a couple of them and unwound in camps. Or we could be drugged and taken by parts pirates and unwound in an old warehouse somewhere with rusty tools and no anesthetic. Or maybe there’s a serial killer who targets teenage boys, and he-”

“Okay, okay, I get it!” Scott interrupted with a glare.

Stiles sighed. “Look, I just don’t think it’s a good idea, that’s all.”

“You can order bacon and eggs,” Scott said in a sing-songy voice, smiling inwardly as he saw Stiles’s face change, his resolve clearly shaken. Scott went in for the kill. “Banana pancaaaaakes.”

Stiles crumbled. “Fine! We’ll go get breakfast in town! But if we get caught, they will be down one unwind because I will kill you. Got it?”

Scott grinned. “Fair enough.” They walked in silence, and fifteen minutes later they were at the edge of a small town.

“You sure you wanna do this?” Stiles asked.

“Banana pancakes,” Scott replied.

It was enough of an answer for Stiles and he led the way in search of something to eat. They settled on a tiny diner, a family owned dive that looked like it hadn’t seen any renovations since the 1970s. It had a cozy, friendly feel to it, and Scott felt immediately at ease. Stiles still seemed a bit on edge, but that was just the way he was. By the time the waitress, an older lady with curly hair, and a smile that could light up the room, came to take their orders though, he’d relaxed a little and actually seemed to be enjoying himself.

They didn’t talk much as they waited for breakfast, but that was okay. They’d been friends their entire lives since becoming roommates at the ward house. They’d also been getting into trouble together just as long--hence the dual unwind orders, and the subsequent Being on the Lam together. The waitress was back before they knew it, and the the sight and smell of an actual meal set Scott’s mouth to watering and his stomach to growling.

“I’m gonna savor this,” he said, dousing his French toast with syrup. He was mildly amused but not surprised to see that Stiles was already scarfing his food, barely stopping even to take a breath. Scott took his first bit and immediately understood Stiles’ impulse to shovel his food.

The hot, syrupy decadence of roadside breakfast was in sharp contrast to the dry, tasteless protein bars they’d been living on for the last week, and his immediate desire was to put as much of the sticky goodness into his body in as little time as possible. By the time he was done, his face and fingers were sticky and he had a full stomach, aching a little in a way that wasn’t altogether unpleasant.

“That,” Stiles said emphatically, “was a wonderful idea.” Scott raised an eyebrow. “Are you telling me I was right?”

Stiles made a face. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Oh, man. If we hadn’t had to ditch our cells, I would record that and set it as my ringtone.”

“Ha ha ha,” Stiles said sarcastically, but there was a smile in his eyes. “Enjoy it while you can. That’s the last time you’ll ever hear that from me.”

Scott laughed. The waitress chose that moment to come check in. “How is every-oh!” She looked at the already empty plates with wide eyes and raised eyebrows and Scott couldn’t help but laugh. Apparently, it was catching, because Stiles joined in, and so did the waitress. When she returned a few minutes later with the bill, all they found was a note that said, “This one’s on us.”

For the moment, the world, and the people in it, were good.

XXX

“Let’s turn down this alley,” Stiles said under his breath.

“What? Why?”

“Just do it!” Stiles hissed, grabbing Scott’s arm and dragging him into a long, narrow alley between two brown brick buildings. He ducked down behind a dumpster and Scott, perplexed, did the same.

“What’s going on?” Scott whispered.

“I think we’re being followed.”

“What?”

“There was this guy at the cafe who left right after we did and I’m pretty sure he’s tailing us,” Stiles explained quickly, his voice shaking. He felt his muscles tensing as adrenaline flooded his system, fight-or-flight kicking in.

“You’re just being paranoid,” Scott said, standing.

“No!” Stiles cried, just as a crack split the air.

“Shit!” Scott yelled, collapsing back behind the dumpster with his hands over his head and his eyes wide. “Shit, Stiles, that was a real bullet!”

Stiles’s heart sped up and his mind raced. “Okay, Scott, I need you to distract him.”

“What?! How?”

“I don’t know!” Stiles hissed, pulling his backpack off. “Talk to him!” Stiles shuffled through the contents of his bag, pulling what he needed out as he found it. Meanwhile, Scott started yelling at the gunman.

“You know, Juvie cops aren’t allowed to carry real bullets, much less fire them at kids!”

“I’m not a cop!” the man called back.

“Parts pirate then? Well, you can’t very well sell parts of a dead kid!” Scott shouted, a hint of desperation in his voice.

“I find real bullets much more effective in discouraging dipshit kids from running! Besides, I don’t shoot to kill, and a mostly good body still fetches quite a price on the black market!”

“Get ready to run,” Stiles muttered to Scott. Scott nodded. Stiles pulled a lighter out of his pocket and held the flame up to the soaking rag that was hanging out of the bottle of whiskey he’d dug out of his bag.

“Go!” Stiles shouted. In one swift motion, he stood and hurled the makeshift Molotov cocktail at the parts pirate and took off running behind Scott. He heard glass shattering and a shout and looked over his shoulder.

The bottle had hit the man’s shoulder, and flames were spreading across his shirt and licking at his neck and face. The man let out a howl of rage and pain and began firing, shooting wildly and blindly a few times before hitting the ground and rolling, putting out the flames that had engulfed him before falling still.

Scott had stopped a few feet ahead and Stiles slowed to a halt beside him.

“What...the hell...was that?” Scott asked breathlessly.

“Molotov...Molotov cocktail. I snagged the whiskey from the warden’s desk before we left.”

Scott smiled and let out a nervous laugh. “Damn.”

Stiles smiled too and turned from the smoking form on the ground, heading toward the open end of the alley, Scott on his heels. Then, several things happened at once: a black car pulled up, blocking the end of the alley; behind them, the parts pirate rose to his feet and raised his weapon.

They were trapped.

“That way!” Stiles shouted, pushing Scott toward the car. The back door opened and the car’s window rolled down, revealing a scruffy young man no more than a few years older than them.

“Get in!” he cried.

The space between the the boys and the car shrank. Three yards, two, one, a foot. Scott was in the car and Stiles was about to follow him when a crack sounded and a hot, piercing pain shot through his back, near his right hip. He let out a cry and hit the ground, just in front of the open car.

“Stiles!” Scott cried, grabbing him under the arms and dragging him into the car as the parts pirate screamed, “I’m going to kill you!”

Stiles pulled the door shut and the car sped away with a squeal, shot ricocheting off of the metal.

“He okay?” the driver asked, glancing into the rearview mirror.

Scott was pale, and he was staring at something. “I think it’s a through and through,” he answered, his voice tight.

Stiles blinked heavily, not sure what Scott meant. The pain in his back was making his head foggy, and he was suddenly exhausted. There was pain in his front, too, which was confusing, and he looked down with a frown, startled to see blood soaking the front of his shirt.

“Wh...what is this?” He mumbled, putting his hand over the place where the sticky red substance seemed to be coming from.

“I think that’s where the bullet came out,” Scott answered, only his voice sounded funny. Stiles’s head started to nod, but Scott’s voice snapped him out of it. “Don’t sleep! Stiles, you have to stay awake.”

Stiles blinked slowly. He felt strange, sort of floaty.

“Stiles? Stiles, you with me?” Scott’s voice was far away, and Stiles didn’t have the strength to answer. He tried to stay awake like Scott said, but the black at the edge of his vision was growing.

It didn’t take long to suffocate him.

XXX

“He’s unconscious and he won’t wake up!” Scott cried, his heart hammering wildly. His chest was getting tight, his throat threatening to close. It was getting harder to breathe, and he reached for his inhaler. It wasn’t in his pocket. He checked the other one. It wasn’t there, either. Shit.

“You looking for this?” the driver of the car asked, holding up the inhaler. Scott grabbed it and puffed the medicine, grateful as his airways relaxed and opened. “You left it on the seat at the diner. I figured you might need it.”

Scott nodded, breathing deeply. “Yeah. Thanks. Look, Stiles needs help. Where are you taking us?”

“Somewhere safe. We’ve got doctors there for exactly this kind of thing. He’ll be okay. My name’s Derek, by the way. I’ve been following you two since Beacon Hills.”

Scott felt his eyes widen. “Derek Hale. The Alpha.”

Derek looked at him in the rearview mirror. “That’s what they call me, yeah.”

#writing sketch #my writing #my fic #fanfic #whump fic #teen wolf #teen wolf fic #teen wolf au #unwind #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #derek hale #stiles whump #drabble #wip #writing doodles

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sadomas0chist · 3 years

Text

insane

MINORS DNI // 18+

genre: nsfw

pairings: choso kamo x female reader

tags/warnings: dilf choso, daddy kink, spitting, degrading/praise kink, choking, dilf next door lmao, oral (receiving f), mxf, slapping.

word count: 2.2 k

synopsis: a new neighbor comes to live in the house next to yours, his bedroom window facing yours. what could possibly go wrong right? it's not like he'll catch you touching yourself while you're shamelessly watching him jerk himself off.

a.n: hey babies! just wanted to apologize for the late updates but i'm exhausted and it's hard for me to gather the energy to do anything at all. i hope this makes up for my absence though. i love you all <3

I wasn't technically doing anything wrong right? Perhaps I was being shameless to push my hand down my panties and caress my wet folds as I stared, more like gawked, at the naked man from my bedroom window as he rubbed himself, his lower parts perfectly displayed from his room to mine. I wasn't like that all the time, creeping up on my new neighbors and fucking myself as I watched them do the same to themselves.

But this man was scrumptious. I caught him two days ago pulling up in the empty parking lot, carefully helping his son out of his car seat before making his way to his new house. I wasn't going to act oblivious to his arrival, the whole neighborhood saw the pickup trucks and the tons of packages that were daily delivered to this place. When the rumors began spreading about him being divorced with a child, raising him on his own, assumptions flew by fast. He's probably poor, bad-looking, abusive, or even old. Which caught us all by surprise when we saw him for the first time. Big ass tattoo across his face, long tied up hair, muscular frame. Simply delicious.

My fingers fastened their pace once I felt a tight knot form in my stomach, I threw my head back against my pillow as my thighs shook, imagining him fucking me instead of his fist. I would feel so much better, he would feel so much better. Soft moans escaped my lips as my pussy gushed around my fingers, my eyes rolling back to the unholy thoughts that were forming in my head. I sat up with half-lidded eyes and realized that he was wiping himself up. What I wasn't anticipating, was him casually looking around and locking eyes with mine. I abruptly dropped back on my bed, my breath caught in my throat. Please, please, please tell me he didn't catch me looking at him.

I waited a few minutes before sitting up again, relieved to find his window closed. I let out a deep breath and walked myself to the bathroom, hoping that I wouldn't have t ever bump into him.

Three days passed by and I limited myself from looking out of my window in fear of catching him doing something lewd again. That was until I had to go grab my mail one morning and the mailbox wasn't fucking opening. "Rusty ass bitch." I cussed hitting a few times, hoping it would respond to violence and stop testing my patience today. I groaned in annoyance when my efforts went in vain. I heard heavy footsteps approach me, my head slightly tilting to acknowledge the male who was coming my way. My heart dropped when I saw him, out of all people, jog towards me, in his tight jogging clothes, sweat glistening over his forehead, a slight trail of sweat across his white t-shirt that was sticking to him making his pecs stand out. Fuck.

"Hitting it won't make it budge." he chuckled and towered over me, moving it carefully and tactically. I was too busy staring at his hands to realize that he had opened it and was waiting for me to grab my mail and thank him. "Oh, I'm sorry, my mind wandered elsewhere. Thank you a lot," I smiled sticking my hand in the box mail and grabbing whatever was there. "Would you like anything to drink? Hydrate yourself a bit?" I asked him trying to seem as polite as I could, however internally wishing he would refuse and go on with his day. "If you don't mind of course. I sent my boy to kindergarten and went for a job and I'm as a matter of fact dying of thirst." He chuckled wiping off his face. I know something you could stuff your face in to keep you hydrated... I slightly shook my head and smiled approvingly, walking us to my place. We made our way to my kitchen before he made himself comfortable on my stool and I opened my fridge to reach for a water bottle, sliding it across the granite counter for him to catch.

He rose his eyebrows as a thank you and popped off the lid, gulping the water down his throat in a swift motion, his adam's apple going crazy before he put down the empty bottle back on the counter and wiped his mouth, a long satisfying sign escaping his lips. My thighs pressed together as I attempted to ignore the tingles that were forming in my core. I looked down at my feet not knowing what to say next, before his feet were near mine, making my eyes go up, his face now above mine with a sly smirk on his face. "I appreciate the hospitality," he paused so I could tell him my name, "right, but you know sweetheart," he lowered his lips to my ears, my hands reaching back to grip onto the wooden table. "Stalking your neighbors getting their business done in order for you to get yours done as well isn't very proper from a little girl like you right?"My eyes opened wide in shock and realization.

Not only he had caught me, but I was also encaged by his tall frame against my table. "I-, I'm so sorry, I don't, I don't know what to say-" "Tsk tsk tsk, you know I could inform the cops about that right?" he threatened with a sly grin, now holding my face up. "Please don't, I apologize if I bothered you, I didn't mean to I was-" he cut me off again. "Too horny? Desperate? Lonely?" he chuckled and my core clenched at the degradation. "I would go to them if it had bothered me, but again who said anything about that darling?" My face turned red at the frustration of it all. I was speechless and he knew it. "It intrigues you right? To know if I would fit in your tiny hole?" I gasped at his vulgar question, but who was I kidding... I've been waiting for this moment to happen ever since I watched him from my balcony coming into the neighborhood. With the small percentage of courage, I had left in his presence and some issues I've been carrying for years, I nodded and pushed myself closer so our bodies would be touching.

"You're so needy it's cute. Want me to stuff you with my fat cock baby?" I nodded again, my hand tugging at his top. He chuckled once again, wrapping his arms under my thighs and picking me up, my legs wrapping around him instantly before he captured my lips with his, his tongue wasting no time to push itself in my mouth. It was obvious that he was as sexually frustrated as I was and I was loving every part of it. "Now let's see how much you can see from that window of yours." he broke us apart before moving to my open bedroom and dropping me on my bed. He took a quick glimpse at the window and smirked. "Nice view you got eh?"

I prompted myself on my elbows and bit my lip. He removed his t-shirt and threw it somewhere in my room, my eyes too busy staring at his toned chest and beautiful abs to even care. He climbed on top of me and kissed me again, his fingers working their way to the hem of my shirt, pulling it up. He pulled away and stripped it off of me before easily unclasping my bra with one hand and throwing it too along with my shirt. The wind made my pores rise and my nipples harden which were instantly attacked by his merciless mouth as he tugged and sucked on them while his other hand wandered from my stomach down my thigh, pushing it apart to make room for more friction between us, his erection now evident as it pressed firmly against my aching core. I whined and panted as he teased me through the fabric, his hips grinding on me.

I gripped onto his shoulders and squeezed, wanting nothing more than to feel him. "Me too darling me too," he kissed my neck and brought his hands down to pull down my bottoms and thong in one swift motion, his finger tracing my slit teasingly, my hips bucking at the feeling. "Easy baby, I still didn't do non." he shook his head with a grin at my sensitivity and took it ad an opportunity to keep massaging my pussy with his fingers before lowering himself, his eyes not once leaving mine. "I wasn't anticipating eating you out but seeing how beautiful your small pussy is," he spat on my clit before spreading it all over my folds, "I'm not going to miss out on that." And with that he latched his mouth onto me, slurping and making out with my pussy, his tongue fucking me as he kept one hand to grip my leg over his shoulder and the other to rub my now sensitive clit in circular motions.

I moaned as his wet muscle worked against my clit now, his fingers moving to my entrance, slowly pushing themselves into me in one motion, before he began curling them to massage my spongy spot, his tongue moving at a tormenting pace. I whimpered at the combination, my orgasm about to rip through my body from how skilled he was. My hips furiously bucked as my thighs shook, my fingers pushing his head closer as I came undone. He gave my cunt a few more licks before kissing my inner thighs, my fluids dripping down his chin. "I could eat you out all day, but I gotta set my priorities straight yeah?" he breathed pulling down his sweats ad briefs, his erection coated with pre-cum standing still. He gave it a few pumps before rubbing his tip against my cunt, using my cum as lube, his vein pulsating in anticipation. He rose my shoulder to his waist and waited for my signal before slowly pushing his tip in. A gasp of relief fell from our lips, my hand reaching to hold onto his arm.

"You can call me Choso on casual days," halfway in, "and daddy on special ones." I wailed as he bottomed out, his tip almost hitting my cervix. I shook in his embrace, his hips steady as he let me adjust to him. "You are tight indeed, are you comfortable sweetheart?" he asked with concern as he watched my eyes tear up. I nodded which resulted in him caressing my cheek, then slightly giving it a smack, my eyes lighting up. He must've received the message when he slapped me again, not too strong, but enough to make me shiver underneath his touch. His hand went down my throat as he gripped it, his body bending over mine. "Ready?" he kissed my earlobe. "Yes, yes daddy." he groaned pulling his hips back before slamming in again, my legs wrapping around him as I kept him close. He didn't show any mercy as he stretched me open, my nails clawing at his back. He sloppily kissed me, my moans slightly muffled. He switched pace, going slow and deep this time.

"Your pretty pussy wraps so nicely around me, 'so good." I whined when his hand reached down to rub my clit. I whimpered, my nipples rubbing against his chest. "I know love, I know." Once again, I felt the shame and shyness wash away from me as I uttered my next words.

"Can- fuck, can you fill me up with your, mhm, cum?" I looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, my bottom lip between my lips. He looked down at me, his mouth agape as his movements stilled for a moment. "I'm on the pill." I added which appeared to reassure him as he bent down to kiss me, his thrust back to being fast and rough. "Shouldn't have told me that, gonna have to take it all now hmm? Like a good girl." I nodded, moaning into his shoulder as he relentlessly stroked himself in me, our skin slapping against each other as sweat dripped from our bodies. He grabbed my breast, pinching at my sensitive bud as he took the other in his mouth. It was all too much for me, I felt myself clench around him, making him slightly bite my nipple, my orgasm brutally ripping through my body, his hand keeping my hips still as he kept thrusting, his sloppy strokes indicating that he was close.

"Fuck your cum in me, daddy, please." I whimpered, his mouth now biting down my neck and leaving some marks here and there. I heard him cuss and groan before loading his cum in me, my inner self hoping that the pill won't disappoint me. He held himself up with his elbows as he panted, his eyes never leaving mine and his dick limp in my coated cunt. "Holy shit," he chuckled, slowly removing himself from me, his cum instantly dripping down on my mattress. He seemed to notice because of how fast he rushed to grab a towel and clean me up as much as he could. "Are you okay?" "Yeah yeah, don't worry." I smiled at him. "Good girl." he kissed my temple and began putting on his clothes.

"I need to go take a shower and prepare some food for my son. If you need anything, call out from your window eh?" he joked making us both laugh. "No but seriously, if you ever need me again, remember I'm a window away." He winked and left my bedroom, the front door closing shut behind him.

#choso x y/n #choso kamo #choso x female reader #jjk fandom #jjk choso #jujutsu choso #jujutsu kaisen #kamo choso #female reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen choso #jujutsu kaisen fandom

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avintagekiss24 · 3 years

Text

—belated; bucky barnes

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x black!reader

word count: 4738

warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, sex, rough sex, anal sex, biting kink, choking kink, spanking, pain kink, vaginal fingering, mean bucky (my fave), ring kink cuz i love it when boys wear rings

squares filled: @buckybarnesbingo Y3: Birthdays ; @badthingshappenbingo Biting ; @star-spangled-bingo N1: Taking Charge

request: bucky barnes + "pay attention to me or i'll make you" + anal + choking + spanking + biting + pain

author note: it's been foreverrrrr! i'm so sorry! i had to work myself through a little slump! hopefully this makes up for the almost two months we've gone without a fic! this is story #2 for my 5k celebration, all fics will be tagged #5k...holy god. this was formatted in the beta text post editor on desktop, if anything looks weird, that's why :)

gif by @pedropcl ; line divider by @firefly-graphics

James Buchanan Barnes is possessive.

One of those massive hands around the back of your neck as you walk casually through the streets. Fingers wrapped around your wrist, or shoulder, or hip in a tight grip. He pulls you in close— right into his side as shopping bags hang from the tips of his metal fingers.

Bucky Barnes wants every man on the streets of Greece to know that you are his.

Not that you mind; quite the contrary. You just smile and giggle when he throws his heavy arm around your shoulders and hooks the crease of his arm right underneath your chin. Slip your hand into the back pocket of his loose dark jeans (giving that little tush of his a squeeze). Slink your arm around his little waist and breathe in his scent— heavy and woodsy— as the two of you stroll.

After all, he’s just as much yours as you are his.

All of his friends, Sam, Steve, Clint, all see the change in him. The little soft spot for you that blinds him entirely— turns him in a mushy puddle of emotions and puppies and rainbows. Very different from the Bucky they grew up with, but a Bucky that the three of them have come to enjoy. It’s a change of pace from the enforcer they know.

The two of you don’t talk about his work— in fact, it’s the reason why you’re in Greece to begin with. A late birthday present to make up for the fact that his “work” just happened to be the waiter at the restaurant he chose to take you to for your thirty second birthday. Come on babe, he chuckled as you scowled back at him over the rim of your wine glass, watching as he stained his white napkin red with his bloody knuckles, you know what they say, kill two birds with one stone… not funny?

Two weeks, two nonrefundable, open ended tickets, and five grand in bikinis, shorts, and shoes later, you’re getting some much needed Greek sun on your deep brown skin.

He’s even letting you call the shots for a change. Letting you wake him up at the ass crack of dawn to have breakfast— a spread of breads, cheeses and fruits on the balcony of your room as the sun rises. He doesn’t say a word as you drag him through the city, stopping at each little boutique and shoe store. Sits patiently as you try on every dress, every skirt, and every silk top in the entire country it seems.

Bucky even bit his lip as you gazed at engagement rings— hinting that princess cut is your favorite as you held your hand up into the natural sunlight as one adored your finger. Smiling over at him and wiggling your eyebrows all the while as he narrowed his eyes and plastered a fake smile on his face.

Today has been like all the others, a lazy day spent on the beach, a quick nap underneath an umbrella, a concoction of too much sun and too many margaritas going straight to your head. Now, you’re kinda sleepy and kinda drunk, but most importantly hungry— and Mykonos sounds like a great place for dinner. Despite Bucky’s objections (you’re too tired and too drunk to handle a ferry), you’re dressed in a cute little flowery sundress, him in an out-of-character white tank top, open pale blue and green striped button down and khaki chinos— you forbade him from bringing anything black— and you’re flip flops are slapping against the cobblestone street towards the ferry.

“Drop your attitude,” You say, glancing over your shoulder as he pays for your tickets, “You owe me.”

“Yeah, yeah, that excuse is wearing thin, girl.” You stumble a little with the motion of the ferry as you step onto it, having to grab onto the railing to steady yourself before Bucky grabs hold of your wrist, “Water only for the rest of the night.”

His voice is low and borderline threatening as he presses his lips right against your ear, and you know not to press him any further. You like to stick your toes right up against his line and that’s what irritates him most about you (always what he loves most), but you and he both know you’d never dare cross it.

Bucky pulls you behind him, hand around your wrist, that possessive trait rearing its head as male eyes fall on you as the two of you pass by. He finds an empty spot, away from the crowd, and plops down on the bench as you step up on the lower rung of the railing and stare out over the sea.

Within twenty or thirty minutes, the ferry pulls away from the dock and you can’t wipe the smile from your face. The sun sets off in the distance, the bright lights of the city turning into little pinpoints. Small droplets of the cool, salty water splashes up in your face as the wind and the ferry whips it up. You keep glancing down at the phone in your hand as you broadcast your current view to your instagram, laughing softly as hearts and emojis explode on your screen.

You lean forward, tilting your phone and smiling wide, waving into the camera before you shout out how much you love it here. The words are barely out of your mouth before an arm wraps around your middle, a wide, hard chest pressed into your back, “That’s enough,” he reaches with his metal arm, grabbing your phone, ending your live feed, “You’re too drunk to be hanging off the side like that.”

“I am not,” you struggle against him lightly as he sets you on your feet, “What is your problem?”

“I’m annoyed.”

“Well, duh. Why?”

He slips your phone into his pocket and crosses his arms over his chest, sharp blue eyes piercing into yours, “Pay attention to me,�� he says low, eyes dropping down your body real slow as he drags his bottom lip between his teeth, “Or I’ll make you.”

So that’s what it’s about. Bucky Barnes feels neglected between all the shopping and beach days and margaritas. Jealousy is cute on him.

The words though, they strike you right to your core— feel them down to your bones. A hard swallow pushes through your throat as your lips part, big brown eyes softening as your breath starts to rush a little harder. You hate to admit— not really— you love this Bucky. This is work Bucky, a man you rarely get to see. Slightly scary, anger brimming just below the surface. Jaw tight, eyes hard, head tilted just a bit. He’s menacing, and it makes your lips twitch into a small smile.

Shrugging defiantly, you cross your arms over your chest, “You didn’t pay much attention to me on my birthday.”

“Not true.”

“Not true?” you nearly shout, eyes going wide, “I ate alone while you beat the hell outta our waiter behind the building! I had to wait two hours for my slice of cake!”

“How is that my fault?”

You scoff, “Oh, I dunno, maybe because our waiter was spitting out his teeth in the alley out back— all thanks to you.”

“I have to work. You know that.”

“Not,” you hiss, “On my fucking birthday.”

He knows he’s wrong for that shit, so he stands there, huffing quick before he cocks his head again and just blinks back at you— unamused. He won’t apologize, it’s just not in his nature, but his usual attempts to make you happy after he’s fucked up aren’t working; so he’s at a loss.

And you’re enjoying that. A little too much if you ask him.

But alas, it’s not fun to fight on vacation, and you have taken far too many liberties when it comes to his tolerance for attitude. It’s been fun— and you’re just drunk enough to push him one last time.

You move slow, walking right up to him, so close that each inhale pushes your tits into his body. The smirk quirked up on your lips grows as you peer up at him, eyes bouncing between his as you place your hands on his forearms still crossed over his chest.

Bucky lifts his eyebrow as you push up on your tiptoes and push your chin forward to bring your lips close to his, “And just how are you gonna make me pay attention to you, James?”

He inhales deep, pushes it out real slow as he tilts his head even further. A smile spreads on his face and you just know that this is the last thing his work sees before he rearranges the bones of their face. This is exactly why his clients pay him as well as they do.

Thick fingers are wrapped around your wrist again, nails digging into your skin as he starts to pull you behind him. He weaves you through bodies, you nearly having to jog to keep up with his strides. Laughter bubbles up in your chest, a little shriek escaping as he pulls you down some stairs to the lower level of the ferry. Once your feet hit the last step, Bucky whips you around his body, sending you spinning and laughing until you bounce into an old, rusty metal barrel.

The smell of salt fills your nose and lungs as you inhale, covering your face with your hands. Your skin is hot, lips slightly numb as you dissolve into laughter again. He’s right, you’re a little too drunk for this.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be down here.” You mumble, brushing your wild hair out of your face.

“I could give a fuck,” he answers, stepping up to you, grabbing your face in his hands, “You’ve been testing me the entire time we’ve been here all over some stupid shit.”

Another giggle pushes through your lips as you bat your eyes, “I wouldn’t dare, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky sucks his teeth as he drops his metal hand around your throat and squeezes gently, the rings on his fingers cool against your skin, “I was stupid, okay? But don’t put on that little innocent act, girl. You’re trying me, and I’ve had enough.”

A smile cracks onto your face, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. You wrap both hands around his one wrist and slip them up his arm, feeling the soft metal as you continue to goad him, “You got some proof, big man?”

The tip of his black and gold thumb prods at your lip, pushes just inside. You wrap your tongue around it and suck gently, keeping your eyes on his all the while.

Bucky laughs, deep and earnestly, “Proof, she says. She needs proof.” He glances around before he spins you quick, facing you away from him as he lifts your dress to reveal your pink satin thong.

You squeal loud, pushing and slapping at his hand as he grabs a handful of your ass, “Bucky! There’s people!” you laugh, “Oh my god!”

“Keep your voice down,” he warns, wrapping his metal fingers around your throat again, “Understand?”

A jolt of electricity flashes through you as you wiggle in his grasp. He tightens his grip around your neck as you wrap your fingers around the edge of the barrel, swallowing hard.

“That requires an answer, honey.”

The chill in his voice, added with the slow circles and soft tickles of fingertips against the back of your naked thigh sends a pang through your belly, “I understand.”

He chuckles soft and with a quick peck on the cheek whispers, “Good girl.”

Bucky curls his left arm around your chest, hooking your chin in the crease of his arm as he grips your right shoulder. You grab on to it with both hands, out of instinct, eyes wide and skirting around for any signs of other human presence down here. Bucky turns, moving you with him to eye the steps quickly again before that flesh hand sweeps around to the front.

The soft material of your dress falls over his hand as he rubs your stomach— his rings catching and snagging your skin. That hand pushes downward, over your thighs, gripping and kneading the soft flesh before he grabs the hem of your dress and pulls it upward, exposing those expensive panties again.

“Bucky,” you hum, his name trembling on your lips with the vibrations of your excitement, “Baby.”

He rucks your dress right up— right up around your waist and pulls the slack behind you, pressing his body into yours to keep it in place. The dark stubble adorning his cheeks and chin cuts into the side of your face as he nuzzles in, humming to himself soft before he kisses the corner of your mouth.

Those fingertips start to trace the hem of your thong— slowly. Back and forth, back and forth. From hip to hip. Your eyes flutter. Fingers grip the soft black metal of his arm a little harder. Legs go to jelly as another hard swallow passes through your throat.

“Ain’t got all that mouth now, do you?” He whispers, fingers slipping just inside the silk of your panties to tease the delicate skin underneath.

When he slips his hand in— all the way in— cupping hot skin, fingers dancing between folds and teasing a wet slit, an influx of air fills your lungs. A gasp, small and clipped sounds in the back of your throat as his fingers start a rhythm. You melt into him, head resting on his shoulder as your hips push forward to meet greedy fingers.

A naughty finger pushes in quick, and then a second— all the way to the black and silver rings dressed on them. His arm tightens around your neck as he presses his lips right against your ear, “You need to apologize.”

He fucks his fingers into you, withdrawing slow, and then pushing back in— each time the edges of his rings stopping him from going deeper. You can’t help but purr as you continue to grip his arm with both of your hands.

“I don’t think—“

“All I want to hear,” his words clip yours, each one slow and drawn and deep, “Is I’m sorry for testing your patience. I won’t do it again.” He curls his fingers, the pads stroking that sweet little spongey spot, making you clamp your legs closed around his hand, “Let me hear you.”

You can’t. You won’t. Too stubborn and too drunk to give in to him, wanting to win just this once.

If there’s one thing James Buchanan Barnes does not like, it’s hesitation. It’s dangerous, he always says. You think too long, you get hurt. Predators don’t hesitate.

Well, you like being his prey.

Only a few seconds pass before Bucky tuts in your ear, seemingly disappointed in your obstinate behavior, but you both know it’s just the opposite. His cock pressing into your ass tells you so.

The fingers disappear. The arm choking you just right pulls away and your dress falls back around the middle of your thighs. You huff, wiping quick at your forehead and pushing your wild, curly hair out of your face again.

Your hands find your hips in irritation but he slaps them away quick as he sucks his teeth, “You must really want this spanking, girl. Keep it up.”

That you do— keep it up. Huffing again. Crossing your arms over your chest like a petulant child. Brown eyes cut back at him over your shoulder to find sharp blues already on you. A smirk on his face.

Metal fingers curl around the back of your neck, pushing you forward gently until your thighs press against the old metal barrel again.

“Lean forward, kitten.”

Voice as smooth as silk while you do so, gripping the rusted edges for balance. Your dress is yanked up again— rough this time— and twisted around his Vibranium hand. Then there’s warm, the warmth of skin against yours. Gentle brushes of fingers and a palm rubbing slow circles, then pinching and grabbing soft— prepping your skin for what’s to come.

He pauses for just a second, no doubt to scan your surroundings and then pulls his hand away. You lung forward with the slap he levels to your behind within a fraction of a second— the sound sharp and heavy.

There’s another, and then a third in quick succession before he’s massaging your skin again. Real soft and sweet. Tears burn at the back of your eyes at the sting that radiates through, all the way to your bones but the molten heat deep in your belly spreads like a fire. Each breath is hard and shaky, heart thumping against your chest but it’s so good.

Bucky switches to the other cheek, skilled fingers sweeping over your canvas of skin before he cracks you— one, two, three.

You squeal with each one. The thud of those heavy rings around his fingers send a quick, new shockwave every time, building on the one before it. The tips of your fingers go red from holding on to the rusty old barrel as tight as you are, but your brain? She’s fuzzy and warm, and drifting up into the clouds with each swift slap.

Bucky is a methodical man. Three for the right cheek, three for the left, three right in the middle. His hand sneaks around your hip, giving it a squeeze before it comes back around and drops to the inside of your thigh. Grabs the meat of it— digs his fingernails in just to hear you yelp. Cups your cunt in his palm, feeling the heat and the wet— makes him groan all low and dirty.

He bunches your hair in his hand, tugs you up by it. Spins you around to face him before hoisting you up and settling you on top of the barrel.

“You want me to fuck you so bad, don’t you?” He growls, ripping at the button and zipper of his jeans.

You just hum in response, wrapping your legs around his waist and throwing your arms over his shoulders.

Bucky grabs your chin, forcing it up before he squeezes your cheeks, “Huh? Answer me.”

Damp eyelashes flutter as hot air escapes from parted, hot lips. He leans in real close, cock pushing right at your slit and kisses you hard as he slips his arm around your waist. He breaks away quick, sloppy and loud before pecking your lips once, twice, three times again.

“You want me to fuck you, girl?”

The weight of his words are felt right down to your core, a shiver passing between the two of you. You let your heavy head fall back and your eyes close as Bucky nuzzles into the side of your face, his pretty white teeth skipping along your neck, nipping and nibbling.

“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper after mere seconds, finally submitting in this cat and mouse game, “Bucky, please.”

That’s all he needs— all he wants. For you to submit, after letting you have the reins for one day too long. He sinks into you slow, spreading you open with each inch, biting down into the side of your neck as he bottoms out. His teeth dig in a little deeper, a little harder as he starts to move, rocking back and forth almost succinct with the waves of the water.

You’re moving with him too, meeting each of his thrusts with your hips. You keep your legs tight around his waist, feet dangling and bouncing against the back of his thighs. A trail of hot kisses are pressed along your neck and down your shoulder before traipsing back up— teeth grazing along your jaw.

Long fingers skip up your side and between your bouncing tits to only wrap around your neck again. They squeeze, gently, as his pace starts to pick up, hips shoving harder and faster— that old barrel starting to scrape against the wood floor.

The force makes you louder, moaning with abandon as if the two of you are all alone on this little ferry. Bucky makes quick work of you, shoving metal fingers into your mouth— giving you something to suck on to keep you quiet.

“That’s a good girl.” he growls, voice gritty and low.

He’s punishing after that. Each snap of his hips thrusting you backward, the barrel you’re on top of tipping back and then slapping down on the floor. You yelp with each one, your mouth going slack around his digits as your hands fall to the edges of the barrel for some semblance of balance.

It’s obscene, the way you can hear your fuck. The wet of your cunt. The squeak of his cock plunging into tight, slick muscles. The heavy thud of his hips pounding into yours. The slap of your flip flops falling to the wood floor as he’s quite literally fucked them right off of your feet. It’s filthy— crude— and so very Bucky.

You’re back on your feet before you know it— before you realize it. Spun back around, Bucky’s hard chest and stomach pressed into your back. He grabs both of your hands and places them back on the barrel, his metal hand staying on top of yours, fingers gripping fingers.

Eager hips wiggle back into his as you hiss and sink your teeth into your bottom lip, groaning low. Your head drops when you feel his cock push through your ass cheeks— wet cockhead pressing against your hot rim.

He starts to fumble around behind you, each passing second making you more and more impatient. There’s a soft click, and then a light suction sound— something squeezing.

“Bucky,” you hiss, pushing back into him again, “Hur—”

The word breaks off right in the middle as he levels a quick smack against your hip— a warning. Then your ass cheeks are pulled apart, wet, slimy fingers sliding and prodding at your quivering rim. He brushes slow strokes, circling, pressing his fingers gently as he preps your little hole for what’s to come.

“What kind of freak brings lube to dinner?” you smile, gasping as he pinches the inside of your thigh.

You lurch forward when he grabs the back of your neck and yanks you back into him, lips right against your cheek, “The kinda freak that was gonna fuck you in an alley after dinner. Now shut that mouth.”

He’s pressing again, this time harder, his cockhead popping into you with force. You grunt with the initial intrusion, Bucky stopping his assault to allow you time to adjust to him— but that doesn’t last long. Your mouth goes slack again. Eyes slam shut, head falls forward as he slips in, deeper and deeper and deeper until his stomach is flush with your ass.

He wiggles— so you can feel him, feel him tickling the deepest part of you. Slaps at your ass again, quick, fingers glancing off your skin and leaving behind a hell of a sting. Then he’s fucking you again, slower this time, savoring the tight, glove-like hold your body provides.

Metal fingers grab at the hem of your dress again, tugging it up before they push back into your panties, finding a swollen, hot nub. Pinching and rubbing smooth circles against it, flicking and thrashing at the bundle of nerves before he shoves his fingers back into your cunt. They curl, those fingers, and pet your insides with surgical precision— only James Buchanan Barnes knows how to fuck you like this.

The heel of his palm slams against your clit as he fingers you rough and fucks your ass with gusto. Sleazy sounds gurgle up in your throat, the slapping of skin and the waves crashing against the side of the ferry, the rush of the wind filling your ears. Bucky pulls you flush against him and slithers his tongue just beneath your ear before his teeth grab a hold, tugging soft.

Teeth keep nipping— along your jaw, your cheeks, ears, neck. He fucks into you hard as he shoves his flesh hand into the neckline of your dress, gripping your tits. Pinching and kneading hard, thick nipples, mumbling sweet nothings all the while.

Your stomach churns, muscles tensing and flexing as synapses start to fire off in quick succession. Quick goosebumps pop up along your skin as your stomach tightens and you can taste it it’s so close. Bucky knows it, feels it as your walls constrict around his fingers, your asshole tightening around him. Vibranium fingers keep rubbing, keep fucking into your pussy hard, palm slapping against your clit, adding more and more pressure until the coil snaps.

It’s hard, and sudden— your body freezing as your orgasm consumes you. Bucky clamps a wet hand over your mouth as you mewl and bite into his palm, your hips thrusting forward with each wave of your release. He pulls his fingers from you to slap at your jumping clit, pressing the pads into it before he rubs quick little circles and then slaps at it again.

He drops his hand to your chin, yanking it up as you nearly cry, mewling and trembling with your release to kiss you hard and sloppy as you come. He kneads your tits with his mammoth hand as aftershocks flash through you, your used body jerking at random. Within seconds, there's a cloud of warmth in your ass. Rough grunts in your ear, growing louder with each spurt of his cock, your hot muscles milking him.

You let him use you, let him fill you up full of his silk. Grab his hands and lace your fingers with his as he empties long ribbons in you. Pull his arms around your waist and hold them there as he rides it out, his head falling to your shoulder. The two of you stand there, resting against that old barrel, breathing hard, skin sticky and balmy. Salt from the ocean in your nose.

Bucky’s the first to pull away, glancing back at the stairs before he pulls himself gingerly from you, leaving your body empty, a dribble of his come slipping out with him. He catches it with his fingers, drags them up the back of your thigh and between your ass cheeks before he shrugs out of his collared shirt and white tank top.

He cleans you up sweet with the tank top. Keeps his arm around your waist to steady you as he wipes at your thighs and your hot, sticky, puffy cunt, shushing you soft when you jump and whimper at the contact. He flings the messy tank top over the side of the ferry and rubs your hips and stomach real slow, murmuring into your ear all the while.

Diligent fingers then rearrange your thong— and cop a little feel, cupping your sensitive, swollen sex, giving it a little pinch so he can laugh when you shiver and squeak. Bucky pulls your dress, tugging lightly to get it back straight around your waist before smoothing it over your ass and thighs— even pulls at the top, making sure your tits are sitting pretty.

You can’t even open your eyes, overcome by alcohol and sleepiness and a post sex high. He fumbles with your fingers as your head lulls on his shoulder, a soft hum vibrating in your throat in your murky haze. Bucky lifts your arm by the elbow, sliding his hand up your forearm until he’s cupping your hand in his.

“Open your eyes, baby.” You groan in protest, causing a chuckle to rumble through his chest, “Come on.”

So you do. You always do whatever this man wants you to do— and there, right on your finger sits that big princess cut engagement ring you teased him with days before.

“How about we skip dinner and find a church, huh?” he whispers, kissing your cheek soft and sweet.

You glance at him over your shoulder, eyes wet as a smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth, “And if I say no?”

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” He laughs as you adjust in his arms, pushing up on your tiptoes to cup his handsome face and kiss him on those pretty pink lips, “Then I guess I’ll have to fuck some sense into that pretty mouth of yours, won’t I birthday girl?”

#bad things happen bingo #buckybarnesbingo2021 #ssb2021 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #5k...holy god

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vronism · 3 years

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oc profile

i was tagged by @bnbc my beloved and im passing it to @kojottek, @ssevth, @siennamain, @tireddemigod, @silverhandsass but take it easy and join if you want to <3

General

Name: Jesse Virginia Diaz

Alias(es): the Vulture, V, Vivi (exclusively by Kerry for some reason), Bullseye

Gender: Female

Age: 23 as of 2077

Birthdate: April 15, 2054

Place of birth: Peach Springs, Arizona

Hometown: Vista del Rey, Heywood, Night City

Spoken languages: Native in English and Spanish

Sexual preference: panromantic, asexual

Occupation: little bastard thief (2065-2070), merc (2070-2075) retail worker and a tattoo artist (Atlanta, 2075-2077) merc, again (2077-2078), missing person (2078-??????)

Appearance

Eye colour: complete heterochromia in both eyes, right eye is brown, left eye is washed-out green, she never wore lenses to cover it up

Hair colour: naturally dark brown, went through array of colors up to 2077

Height: 5′3″ / 162 cm

Scars: A lot, the most obvious is the one on her face, she got it while the drunk partner of her mother hit her with a broken bottle when she was a kid, then she has some street brawling scars here and there, a scar across her stomach from her first confrontation with the Scavs, and a lot of self-h*rm scars all the way down her arms and thighs, mostly covered by tattoos.

Favourite

Colour: violet, purple and rusty red

Hair colour: mmmm on her the one she had in 2077, this pinkish violet mess she dyed herself

Song: I'm not sure she has a fav one, but likes indie rock hehe

Food: shes a raccoon, she eats every trash but likes burritos a lot uwu

Drink: Silver Tequila cherry coke

Have They...

Passed university: never went to school lmao

Had sex: yes

Had sex in public: probably, who knows what was going on when she was on drugs as a teen

Gotten pregnant: oh nonono, shes disgusted by the idea, the first "body mod" she's ever gotten was literally getting spayed

Kissed a boy: absolutely

Kissed a girl: aplenty

Gotten tattoos: absolutely. did tattoos herself. got tattoos tattooed by her on her own thighs

Been in love: unfortunately

Stayed up for more than 24 hours: obviously, a trash mammal through and through

Are They...

A virgin: nope

A cuddler: only in the morning

A kisser: not really

Scared easily: naw

Jealous easily: nope

Dominant/Submissive: tough question, but I'd say she falls exactly in the middle of the spectrum. she does as she pleases, to be honest, so she's whatever she feels like in any given moment.

In love: yes

Single: I... don't think so

Random Questions (TW: Self harm/suicide mention)

Have they harmed themselves: absolutely, a lot, unknowingly carries self-destructive tendencies to this day

Thought of suicide: yepshe does a lot tbh

Attempted suicide: overdosed on drugs she was taking at the time, but her body said "we ain't having that here"

Wanted to kill someone: yes and she did for the first time when she was 10 years old :)

Have/had a job: yeah, sure, all the way from being a paid assassin to a customer service worker

Have any fears: death and being alone

Family

Sibling(s): twin half-sisters, she doesn't know them though, they were a year old when she was ten and out of the house.

Parent(s): Gabe Diaz, indigenous Hualapai, her dad; Isabela Guadalupe Pérez, Mexican, mother; also her mother's partner in Night City, Dan Tucker, whom Jess singlehandedly murdered

Children: nonononono

Significant other: Johnny Silverhand

Pet(s): Nibbles the cat and Huckleberry (aka Turnip), a honest-to-fucking-god mustang horse

#Jess V Diaz #thank you thank you thank you #grab some lore ;)

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kenanda · 3 years

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Love your lonelyeyes fics!! I'm waiting for the sequel you mentioned and the abo one.

If you want to, no pressure, for the kissing prompt whichever you want to pick 11, 23 or 62 would be amazing. Have a lovely day !!!

Hello! I'm so humbled that you enjoy my fics, thank you so much! I'm a bit swamped atm, but I have those fics all outlined. I still plan on writing them, so bear with me!

Also, thank you for your patience, I know this took a while xD I've come back (sorta) after a week of being ill to commit more LonelyEyes crimes. I hope y'all are ready for some tooth-rotting fluff!

Since I'm still a bit under the weather, I decided to do what I never do and pick only one prompt (oh noes!). But here it goes:

Kissing prompt 23 - Exhausted parents kiss

Rating: PG-13 Words: 1,2k Pairing: LonelyEyes Characters: Jonah Magnus!Elias Bouchard; Peter Lukas; Martin Blackwood; Tim Stoker Tags: Established Relationship; Parenthood; Gentle Kissing; Fluff; No Hurt Only Comfort; Parents!Lonelyeyes; Domestic (like VERY); Doting Parents LonelyEyes; yeah Tim and Martin are their kids in this one; Prompt Fill

Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me. They are the property of Rusty Quill's The Magnus Archives.

Warning: If you're squicked by any of this, back out. Don't read. Thanks!

After nine years of being a parent, Elias had learned to recognise the shy knocking on his and Peter's door for what it really was. The day and hour — just a little past 11PM on a Sunday — were also a hint. Tim was supposed to be in bed by ten, and yet here he was, a small figure standing awkwardly on the threshold.

Elias lowered his reading glasses and elbowed Peter in the ribs when he failed to turn off the TV.

Peter jolted awake, having been on the brink of sleep. "Tim- Timothy? What's wrong?" Peter grumbled.

Between the two of them, Martin let out a tiny sound in his slumber.

Tim rubbed the back of his leg with a foot. "I just remembered… I have schoolwork… For tomorrow..."

Elias sighed, wondering why in the deepest part of his heart. But what could he do except help his forgetful child?

"I'll go get the cardboard and old magazines," he said and got up, careful not to jostle Martin.

Tim smiled. "Thank you, Daddy."

Unfortunately for him, Elias was rather weak to his child's eyes. Something about them reminded him of Peter; an acquired trait, maybe? Elias knew he was doomed the moment he saw the same little wrinkles appear on the sides of Tim’s eyes. Alas, he would die for this child — the love blooming in his chest upon noticing that their boy looked more and more like them was evidence enough.

Elias picked Tim up on the way out. Just as he was about to leave, he noticed that Peter hadn't moved an inch.

"Ahem.”

Peter wiggled out of bed with many a groan.

"Keep an eye on Martin while I help Tim," Elias told him.

Their youngest had just turned two; they were having some trouble getting him to fall asleep in his own bedroom. Martin was adamant in sleeping between his dads, even with the TV and the lights on.

Since Martin was out like a light, Peter picked him up and carried him to his bedroom.

Elias and Tim got to work in the kitchen. Elias should have known better than to not check Tim's assignments, but he believed it was good that their oldest had some responsibilities.

Elias also believed in dealing with the aftermath of one's own actions, but he wasn't a cruel parent. When the yawning and eye-rubbing became too much, Elias gently patted Tim on the back.

Wordlessly, Tim crawled into his arms. Elias could finish this alone. He would wake up exhausted the next day and have a busy day of meetings at work, but he at least could drink coffee.

Just as he was putting Tim to bed, he heard a yelp followed by a wail from Martin's bedroom. His heart raced, but hopefully it would be just another nightmare. If Peter had dropped their kid...

He strode over to find Martin plastered against Peter's chest, tiny arms wound too-tight around his neck. Peter gave Elias a look and a shrug.

"Stepped on a god forsaken Lego on my way out and let out a cry. Woke him up."

Elias relaxed. He could empathise, having been on the receiving end of a painful Lego-stepping more than once. It hadn't been pretty.

Peter sat on the blue armchair near the curtains, the one that was too small for him. Elias pulled up a chair next to them and gently helped rock Martin to sleep. Their baby boy was sniffling, so Peter started humming an old shanty that both Martin and Elias loved.

Elias was ready to sleep right there when Peter nudged him. Martin's arms had gone lax.

Elias removed him with a care that one would only employ to defuse a bomb, but managed to tuck him in bed.

They tiptoed out and heaved another tired sigh upon checking the hour. Way past midnight.

"I've still got Tim's assignment," Elias whined. It sounded almost like a cry.

"Come.” Peter encouraged, gently pushing Elias towards the kitchen “Four hands work faster."

By the time they were done, it was almost one in the morning. Peter would be able to sleep in on Monday (he was only needed at the harbour by noon), but Elias would have to be up in five hours.

Bleary-eyed, Elias put the finished work aside. Peter massaged his shoulders and nuzzled his hair, offering him some tea. They could certainly do with a cuppa, but all they needed right now was sleep — though not before one last check

Peter poked a head into Tim’s bedroom and Elias into Martin’s. The kids were fast asleep and thankfully it seemed like no more trouble would arise that night.

The pair crawled into bed and only whispered a tired good-night before turning off the bedside table lamps and immediately falling asleep.

***

Getting the kids out of bed the next day was torture. Martin was throwing a tantrum for having woken up yet again somewhere other than his parents' beds, and Tim was cranky due to the lack of sleep.

Elias could relate, but he still roused them with a smile and a kiss.

While Elias dressed Tim, Peter prepared Martin's food. Elias was in charge of dropping Tim off today. Peter would stay in with Martin until the minder arrived — a lovely young one called Sasha.

"Don't forget your assignment!" Elias told Tim as they were getting ready to go. Tim ran to get it. And to the pair of scoundrels he was leaving behind: "You two, no biscuits before lunch! I mean it. And don't forget to put away the laundry, I left it running last night."

"Will do. You take care as well!"

Martin was currently too entertained by his food to co-sign. Also, he was only two.

As they were about to leave, Elias remembered something. He did a little sprint to the kitchen and gave Peter a kiss.

Peter smiled (as he always did) and kissed him back. It lingered.

They had no idea what awaited them when they'd first decided to move in together. Even less so when after a few years, they had come to the conclusion that there were too many empty rooms in that house.

Elias had never once pictured himself as paternal and frankly, neither did Peter. But now, with way more grey hairs than when they started and many stories to tell, both agreed that it had been their best idea.

"Love you," Elias told him.

"Eww," Tim exclaimed. "That's gross, Daddy!"

"Come now, we don't talk like that about your Father. He has feelings, you know."

"Hey!"

Peter gave him a reprimanding pat on the bum.

Martin giggled at Elias's yelp with a face covered in carrot porridge.

"See you in a few," Elias said, ignoring Tim's now sudden protests that they were going to be late.

This was their life now — from sleepless nights in the ER to the swelling pride at school events; to the chaotic rush of mornings and relying on each other more than they ever had before.

Peter may be all smiles today, but Elias knew that he was just as tired. He also knew that neither would trade this for anything in the world. They were in this together.

"Miss you," Peter said.

"You won't have time for that." Elias looked pointedly at Martin, who was now making a sculpture of sorts out of his food.

"Yeah, you're probably right..."

"Appreciate the sentiment, though."

"Dad!" Tim warned.

"Right. Coming!"

Peter waved them away and blew a small kiss in Elias' direction. Elias caught it in mid-air and put it in his pocket, then blew one of his own. Peter held it in his hand.

#my fics #nanda's ramblings #lonelyeyes #lonelyeyes fic #lonelyeyes fanfiction #jonah magnus #elias bouchard #peter lukas #martin blackwood #tim stoker #tma fic #prompt fill #thank you!#i'm not fully back yet but i'm happy to share this small piece with you all!#hope yall like it :)#my fic

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rwbyremnants · 3 years

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NOTE: Working on more fics, I promise! For now I'm gonna try to not sleep on this one so much.

=Chapter 32

Fortunately, they only had to wait inside with Mrs. Nikos for about half an hour. She was quite accommodating and understanding, having heard from her husband how unreasonable Jacques had been when they confronted their daughters together - and hearing first-hand his shouting after them as they walked up the street scant minutes before. Most of the small town knew about the incident by now, and while a man might have sided with Jacques, few women would do the same. She had no problem providing Willow with tea and sympathy, and a handkerchief to bawl into.

The minute Pyrrha walked in the door, she knew something was wrong without even having to ask. But she did.

“What's wrong? What happened?”

Mrs. Nikos attempted to field the question herself, adjusting her spectacles. “The Schnees are having… a disagreement. Would you mind driving them to a motel or wherever they need to go, sweetie?”

“A disagreement?” Her friend swallowed hard. “Oh no… oh no, he got out.”

“What?”

“He did,” Mrs. Schnee answered for her, looking wearier by the moment. “And as much as I hate the idea of causing a scene, I can't put my daughter in danger. Not knowingly. If he could drug another poor girl once, send her after Weiss with a knife…”

Mrs. Nikos shook her head, red bob bouncing to and fro. Pyrrha definitely favored her father a bit more in terms of features and size, but the hair was unmistakable. “To think he could treat his own family that way! Absolutely disgraceful - and right here in Atlas Heights!”

“I know, Mom,” Pyrrha said calmly, even though Weiss could tell that she was extremely upset beneath the facade. “But he's hurt them more times in the past. I hate to see any family fall apart, but…”

“Mia zoí malákas!” She spat downward three times; Weiss and her mother were a little surprised, but Pyrrha merely nodded solemnly. “Not that I could believe that of my Nick, of course… but one can never be too careful.”

At their continued confusion, Pyrrha explained, “Old superstition - she's warding off the same evil happening to our family.”

“A-ah,” Willow stammered, not having been prepared for what a high society woman such as she would consider to be a display of extremely unladylike behavior. Weiss knew it probably wasn't unladylike in Mrs. Nikos' culture, of course, but her mother was even less worldly.

“Where will you go?" Pyrrha asked. "I mean… I'm sorry, I don't mean to ask too many questions, but…”

Mrs. Schnee waved that away. “It’s alright, dear. I think… well, maybe I'm presuming too much, but Kali once told me to come to her for anything I might need. And we were talking about my marriage, all the financials. So…”

“Oh! Oh, that's fine - I can definitely drive you there. What about your clothes and things? Do you want me to see if Mr. Schnee will let me in to collect-”

“NO!” When everyone else was surprised by Weiss’s outburst, she hurried to follow up with, “Pyrrha, this isn't your job. Besides, I'm worried he would take out his frustrations with us on you.”

Before she could protest, Pyrrha’s mother said, “Listen to her, kóri. Best to only go in there with more than one of you. It's safer. My God, I never thought I would have to say that about someone in this neighborhood…”

They bade Mrs. Nikos goodnight and piled into Pyrrha's car. The minute they had pulled away down the street, Weiss turned to look at the driver.

“Don't go to Kali's house.”

“What?” they both said.

“Not straight there. I don't want Father having you followed and leading him straight to us, or putting you in danger, like your mom said. You’ve already had to protect me once and that’s more than you ever should have.” She thought frantically. “Let's go to the Branwen's. Then Yang and her mother can take us to the Belladonna's. Just an… an extra, um…”

“A precaution,” her mother finished for her, nodding. She had to crane her neck to see her. “My smart daughter. It might not be necessary, but you're right; better safe than sorry.”

Pyrrha reached over and took up Weiss's hand, drawing her gaze as they came to a stop sign and paused there. “But I would gladly protect you again. I know you would do the same for me! But… oh, you're right. We shouldn't invite trouble when it can be avoided.”

So they did exactly as they planned. Weiss could see that her mother was growing more and more uncomfortable as they got deeper into the poorer part of town, but she was trying to pretend otherwise, maintaining light conversation about the weather and asking after Pyrrha's studies. The other two women were much better at small talk than Weiss was.

Her nerves spiked as they got closer to the Branwen house. Yang’s mother was decidedly no fan of hers, but she had been marginally more civil the last couple of times she visited, so maybe there was some hope.

“Both of you wait here,” she commanded them, reaching for the door handle. “This shouldn't take long. Either she'll help us, or she won't. Simple as that.”

“Be careful, sweetie,” her mother bade her as she slipped out of the car and walked up to the house.

Raven answered after the first knock. She rolled her eyes when she saw the young cheerleader on her doorstep, but made no other derisive comment or gesture - only stood back to let her into the house.

“Actually, we can't stay, Mrs. Branwen. I wondered if I could ask you or Yang for a favor?”

Her bottomless eyes narrowed further. “Like what? And who's ‘we’?”

“Well… it's a long story. The short version is, my father is out of jail and we'd like a ride to Kali's house because we don't want him to strangle us in our sleep.”

She had been expecting some kind of snarky comment, or at the very least a demand for further explanation. Instead, Raven nodded for a moment, then held up a finger before retreating into the house. Weiss was just beginning to worry that she had been ignored when the woman returned, jacket on and keys in hand. It wasn't the kind of coat the Dragons normally sported, but one of a red leather with black fur around the collar. Sunglasses were clipped to the breast pocket, almost as an afterthought.

“Mrs. Branwen? What- I mean, um, what about Yang?”

“This is a grown-up problem, girl. The grown-ups should handle it.” She headed straight for her rusty old car, barely pausing to call over her shoulder, “Whoever's coming had better hurry up. I ain't got all day.”

Pyrrha followed them back to Atlas Heights in her vehicle. Even though she privately thought her mother would be just as comfortable staying with her friend as riding with Raven, if not moreso, she came along, anyway. It was a fairly tense trip.

“He knocked you around?” she asked Willow without preamble.

“What? Oh… yes, I'm… I'm afraid so.”

“Both of you? And you just took it?”

“Raven!” Weiss hissed, unable to help herself. The glare of doom she saw in the rearview mirror made her rethink the action, but she stood her ground.

“Don't you sass me, girl. Grown women are talking.”

Before Weiss could reply, her mother held up a hand to signal that she could field the question herself. “It's fine. She's right; I should have done something about this situation long ago. But I… well, I convinced myself that keeping the peace within our family was more important than my own safety. I was wrong.”

“Damn right you were wrong. If my Taiyang had ever so much as tweaked my girl's nose wrong, I would have slit his throat. That goes for most mothers, I'd wager - and if I'm actually a better parent than you are, that's pretty sad.”

Again, Weiss wanted to argue with her, but this time she stopped herself. That was the most solid proof thus far that Raven wasn't quite the negligent parent that she seemed to be. Maybe this wasn't the time to shout her down. Though she certainly resolved to comfort her mother later, and assure her that she didn't think of her as a bad parent.

Not when they had her father to compare her to.

“Must we do this?” Willow asked in a shaking voice as they pulled into her own driveway. “Shouldn't we leave well enough alone for a while?”

Raven spared her a dark little smirk as she turned off the engine. “A highfalutin’ woman like you? Probably wouldn't last two days without her collection of lipsticks and pantyhose. No, we’d better do this now.”

The walk up to the front door seemed to last an eternity. Both Weiss and her mother were trembling, and she could feel her own palms were moist, stomach clenching in anticipation of another fight, or a shouting match… or worse.

It was Whitley who answered the door. He looked shocked enough to see his own family members, and yet more when he noticed the strange woman glaring down at him as if he had been spawned from a swamp.

“What-?”

“Excuse us.” Raven pushed her way past him without even waiting for him to finish a sentence. After only a second or two spent getting her bearings, she headed for the stairs. Weiss and her mother hurried to follow, the flustered boy tagging along at their heels.

“Your room?” When Weiss nodded, she stormed in and looked around. “Suitcase?”

“Up here, in the closet.” She went to get it herself, hoping that if she wasn’t completely useless she might earn some tiny shred of Raven’s respect. The woman started yanking open drawers, shoving her hands into piles of panties. “H-hey! Don’t touch those!”

Her lip curled as she tossed them unceremoniously into her bag. “Please. You have to be this tall to ride this roller coaster.” She held her hand out at the height that just happened to match that of her mother, and she snorted when she noticed. “Huh. Look at that.”

“Excuse me?” Willow breathed.

“Nothin'. Hurry up, Weiss.” Then she steered the older woman out of her room.

It took another few seconds for Weiss to snap out of her dazed state and begin to pack. They wouldn’t have much time; so far, they had been lucky that her father wasn’t around to interrupt their desperate grab for their personal effects. She focused on clothes first, then began to grab for school supplies, makeup, other things that could be easily picked up and moved. Lastly, she made sure to pluck from the bottom of her closet the single slipper that had lost its mate to her love, tucking it in the corner before she shut the case.

“Do you really think you two will get away with this?”

When she glanced up, it was to see her brother looking quite livid, fists clenched at his side. Sighing as she pulled the suitcase down from the bed to rest on the floor, she finally snapped, “Get away with what?”

“Abandoning Father when he needs us most!” he half-shouted, pasty little face livid. “You already got him thrown in prison, and he’s finally shown that he is willing to reason with you and Mother after all of this… and still you throw that back in his face?”

“Reason with- Whitley, he attacked us! There's nothing for us to feel sorry about - we had to protect ourselves!”

“Of course there is! If you hadn't been… well, you know! Hanging around those bad girls! Why would you keep doing that when you could simply do as Father says and… and ensure your future with the company, with this family? You're even crazier than I thought!”

Weiss had been prepared to hate Whitley for siding with their father. To lash out, to try and make him see reason. Instead, the most prominent emotion she felt… was pity.

“Oh, you poor little idiot.”

“I am not poor and I am not an idiot!” he snarled with a stomp of his foot.

“You are. You just don't know it yet.” As she began to haul the suitcase toward her doorway, she grunted, “You're still welcome to come with us instead of staying here with a dangerous lunatic. But I have a feeling you won't.”

Rolling his eyes, he folded his arms over his chest. “Don't be absurd.” When she kept going, he jogged a bit to catch up and asked, “Where will you be staying?”

“The Starlight Motel.” The lie felt disgusting in her mouth, but it was for their own safety. “Don't bother calling; we are staying under assumed names and asking not to be disturbed.”

“You would rather stay in a fleabag motel than with your own family?”

Narrowing her eyes at him, she hissed, “That man is not my family anymore.”

Then she walked into the hallway. Hers and Yang's mothers had yet to return; that was no surprise. Her mother always took forever to pack. It was one of the many and varied topics she and her husband argued about, nearly every time they took a vacation. Before her mother had stopped arguing and started drinking, of course.

“Thinking about raiding our good silver?”

“Shut up, Whitley.”

“This isn't over, you know,” he sighed in a would-be causal voice. The trembling gave away that he was much more frustrated than that, of course. “Father will make you come back. Or at least return these things you're stealing.”

Taken aback, she snapped, “They're my things! My clothes and books! And do you really expect me to believe you think this is Father's pantyhose in my suitcase?”

“Yes. Oh - well, not in that way!” he burst out in annoyance. “I meant that he paid for all these things and you know that!”

Weiss was about to argue about that, take him down a peg, when the older women emerged from the master bedroom. Two bags were packed - Weiss now wished she had done the same, but she had been trying to pack light and take only the bare necessities. Her mother obviously didn't agree with the same definition of “necessities”.

“...quite a shock at first,” Willow was saying as they approached. Were they actually talking? Raven and her mother?! “But, well… I don't have much room to throw stones in my glass house.”

“I keep telling you, that's not what I care about.” But the instant she saw Weiss standing there, she buttoned her lip. “Hmm.”

“Yes?” Weiss gently prompted.

“Nothing. You ready?”

“I am. Is… everything alright?”

Raven spared her mother a glance. They looked a little more at ease around each other now, which she found as confusing as encouraging. “Think so. Let's go before Willow tries to pack a tea set or something.”

As they descended the stairs, Weiss goggling at Yang's mother calling hers by name, the woman in question whispered, “Oh… the tea set…”

They had just put the second bag into Raven's trunk when another car pulled into the driveway. They were blocked in. Even worse was the man getting out of said car.

“Ah,” he said, face aglow with a self-satisfied smirk that Weiss found infuriating. “Already crawling back with your tail between your legs, eh, Willow? I might have known it wouldn't take long.”

“Jacques,” she said in a dignified voice, which did nothing to hide her obvious fear.

“Wait…” His eyes finally took in the way Raven was stashing the last suitcase and slamming the trunk door closed. “Who is this? What are- did you come back to burgle me? Can you really be that pathetic?”

Raising a hand as if already warding off an attack, his wife backed up until the car pressed into her rear. “We came for what is rightfully ours. Please just… don't cause a fuss.”

“This is absurd!” Weiss almost wanted to laugh at him using the same word choice his son had scant minutes ago. “You really mean to do this! To abandon everything we've built together over some petty squabble! Where will you even stay? With this, this… bitter hag?”

Though Raven’s jaw tightened, she made no other move and offered no word. Weiss had a feeling that was a lot clearer sign of danger than if she had replied.

“At the Starlight Motel,” Weiss repeated loudly, cutting off whatever her mother had been about to say. “And don't bother asking for us; we're using assumed names and… and told them…”

Her voice faded as he turned the withering glare upon her. A few quick steps took him into her personal space, and she felt her flesh crawling in disgust for a man she had once trusted to provide for her, to protect and guide her into adulthood.

“This is all your doing,” he growled into her face, sounding more like a beast than a man. “Poisoning my own wife against me, dividing our home in two. You and those people you fraternize with now, skulking around and doing God knows what! And we both know what you're doing with that Chinese girl!”

She wasn't sure where the moment of boldness came from. Straightening up to her full height, despite it still being half a foot shorter than that of her father, she hissed as sharply as possible, “We do know that, Father. I'm in love with her and there's not a damn thing you can do about it!”

All the color drained from his face as he stared, open mouth, at his youngest daughter. If nothing else, at least she had accomplished shutting the man up for once.

“You…” He ground back to life like a toy having just been wound up again. One of his hands clamped hard on her bicep. “Disgusting… ungrateful… degenerate! Going against God’s laws - the laws of nature! We'll see about that! You're going up to your room, and you're going to stay there until I come up to teach you some-”

His words suddenly cut off. At first, Weiss thought he simply ran out of things to say in his frustration with her. Then he took a step back, and she saw a hand clamped on his shoulder at least as hard as the one on her own bicep.

“Careful, Papa Schnee,” Raven told him in a low, rattling voice. “Don't forget that you aren't alone in your house anymore. People are watching.”

His eyes raised, glancing wildly around the neighborhood. No one was looking out of their windows, or staring from the sidewalk. “Who is ‘people’? You? Please. Some barren old maid who looks like Evil Kineval? I'll thank you to stay out of things that are none of your concern.”

“Look again.”

Even Weiss had to do a double-take to notice what Raven was talking about. Two cars were parked on the other side of the street, their drivers staring intently at the Schnee household. Pyrrha and Kali - her personal knights in shining armor. Though Pyrrha looked a little bit more scared, Kali was filled with grim determination. Even as they stared, the latter's door opened and one of her high heels extended to rest on the pavement, ready to sprint toward the house at a moment's notice.

“You really think I'm scared of a bunch of women?” he scoffed, turning back to look at Weiss as if there had been no interruption. “I've seen the inside of a prison. Nothing you can do can compare with the atrocities I saw there.”

“Really?”

A loud click filled the air between them. When both Weiss and her father looked around, it was to see a prominent bulge in Raven's jacket pocket. Only a truly innocent lamb could mistake it for anything other than…

“A gun?!” she hissed at her. “Again?!”

“Why does everybody act so surprised that I have this and am ready to use it?”

Jacques flicked his beady eyes between the pocket and Raven's passively determined expression. He licked his lips, finally lowering his hand from Weiss's bicep to clench at his side. “It's a bluff. You're bluffing; I've never heard of a woman carrying around a pistol in all my life.”

“Keep threatening my daughter's girlfriend and you'll call my bluff,” she growled in a purely murderous tone, despite the cold smile on her lips. “Nobody gets to do that but me.”

Weiss wanted to sigh but decided she shouldn't.

“Jacques,” Willow set in a firmer tone than Weiss remembered hearing from her. “Please be reasonable. We just want to leave in one piece. Don't be stubborn and get someone hurt. Please?”

To drive home the point, Raven added, “I haven't even decided for sure that I won't shoot you if you do back off. Men like you make me sick. Really not smart to push me right now.”

“I'll have the police haul you in,” he growled angrily, his cheeks beginning to flush with redness due to the sheer levels of anger he was reaching. “You won't get away with threatening me! Do you have any idea who I am? How much power I have in this city?”

“Do you have any idea how little I care? Stop trying to impress me with the size of your piece and go away. I guarantee mine is bigger.”

Never before in her life had Weiss seen her father look so flustered and - to echo Raven's sentiments - impotent before. He glanced toward the front door, where Whitley was watching with an open mouth and an anxious expression, and again at the two women watching from their cars. By now, Kali had exited her vehicle and had one arm resting on the open door. Weiss cautiously retreated to stand next to her mother, silently reaching down to clasp her hand in solidarity. She felt the fingers flex and latch onto her own hard.

“Yes, I see, I see,” he muttered. “Battle of the sexes, is it? Well… we'll see about this. Yes, we will.” Glaring down at Weiss, he hissed in a venomous tone, “You have no idea how much worse I can make your life, ungrateful child.”

“Yes, we do. And we've had enough.” She pointed at the house with a shaking limb and said, “Go, Father. Just go.”

He went. Even though he looked like he had a million more things to shout at them, he seemed to realize that they no longer wanted to listen. His steps toward the front door were sure and swift - Whitley had to jump out of the way to avoid being mowed down in his determination.

Their mother hesitated for a moment, watching Whitley's worried expression. Then she took a step toward the house. “Come with us, son. I don't want to leave you in his care. I really don't! But I won’t force you.”

“Mother…” He sighed, lowering his eyes. Though he looked as if he regretted it, he turned and went back inside the house, pulling the door closed behind him. Weiss had a sneaking suspicion that at least some of what she had said to him sank in, but he wasn't ready to fully believe it yet.

“Glad that's over,” Raven snorted. There was a distant clicking in her pocket again; uncocking her pistol, most likely. “Some men have heads full of sawdust, I swear to-”

The rest of her sentence was cut off by Willow throwing her arms around her, squeezing with all of her might. Weiss took a step backward in shock. The next emotion that flared up in her was pure worry; Raven wasn't exactly a touchy-feely kind of person. How would she react?

“Oh, thank you so much!” Willow breathed urgently against her shoulder. “That was terrifying, and you were so… calm, and made him listen, and you… I've never seen such a strong woman before! Standing up to a man like him!”

The only thing that could have been more surprising would be if Raven embraced her back. Which was exactly what she did - only patting her in the middle of her back with one hand, but it was still more than Weiss expected. She looked mostly wide-eyed and confused. “No big deal.”

“But it is!” She drew back and kissed Raven on either cheek. Privately, Weiss knew that she was just being sociable in the same way she would have with the ladies at the Country Club, but was amused when she realized how it might come across to Raven instead. “How can I ever repay you?”

Sure enough, for just a moment, there was a slight bashfulness in Yang's mother's expression. The shy grin spoke volumes. “Honestly, don't mention it. Ever again.”

“Well, well, you two look cozy.” They had been so wrapped up in the various events that they didn't even hear Kali approach. Her own features were a curious mixture of bemusement and irritation.

“Kali!” Raven gasped - proving that she had completely forgotten she was even there. “This isn't- I mean, I only came to help them get their stuff from the creep in there. That's it, I promise.”

Smirking as she folded her arms over her chest, the Belladonna matriarch needled her, “Never could resist a blonde in distress, could you? But it's all right. You handled that really well and I'm proud of you.”

Her smile was obviously pleased, despite her response being, “Like I care if you're proud or not. But thanks for the backup.”

“Wait,” Willow asked, “you know each other?”

“Boy, does she know me,” Raven half-purred, and Kali rolled her eyes.

“I hate to interrupt this… whatever this is,” Pyrrha announced in a nervous voice, even though none of them had noticed her approach, either, “but I think we should go to Mrs. Belladonna's house before we continue this conversation. I don't like knowing he's in there, watching us like this.”

Their eyes turned as one to the house just in time to see one of the upstairs curtains be wrenched shut. Raven grunted under her breath, “Good idea. Don't want the cops to arrive and find me with this piece in my pocket.”

As they went to their separate cars, Willow asked her, “So you weren't kidding? That's really a gun in your pocket, not just a bluff? I didn't even know women could buy guns!”

“Of course we can. Not that I bought it through strictly legal channels…” She started the car and glanced at the two platinum-haired women in her passenger seats. “You did good. Maybe… I was wrong about you, Little Schnee.”

That was about the most glowing praise Weiss could ever hope to receive from Raven, and she couldn't help the huge grin that broke out across her face. It made the older woman grimace and turn back around.

“How are we going to get out?” Willow asked. “Jacques boxed us in.”

“Did he?”

The next several seconds were like something out of a movie. Raven threw her car into gear, nearly plowed into the fence, then cut the steering wheel hard so she would reverse into the front yard around her father's car. Deep gouges were left into the grass and earth that would take a groundskeeper many hours to fix. As if an intentional finishing touch, she backed over the mailbox before winding up on the road again, shifting into drive and taking off at top speed.

That was fine with Weiss. She hated being boxed in.

“Oh, our mailbox…” After a brief second, Willow turned to nervously say, “But it's fine! I… we can buy another!”

“Who is ‘we’? Thought you were done living with that walking pile of dog shit.”

Simple as that statement was, it shattered the excitement for the two Schnee women and left them with nothing but melancholy and regrets. A chapter in their life had ended forever, leaving only an uncertain future looming on the horizon through the cracked windshield of Raven Branwen’s old rusty Dodge.

#princess and the dragons #freezerburn fanfic #1950s au #rwby fanfiction #rwbyremnants

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jpat82 · 5 years

Text

101 Ways To Kill Bucky Barnes

Regroup

"Stupid, flipping cat!" You almost screamed in the garage as Fernando pulled another car apart. You could hear him chuckle under his breath, which infuriated you even further. Grabbing the nearest wrench you spun on your heel and hurdled it threw the air in the flamboyant man's direction, hitting square in the back.

"'Ey, man, just cause you got rusty is no reason to take it out on me." He shouted as he turned to face you, grease smudging his face.

"I'm not rusty, it was the felines fault. Stupid cat." You responded, leaning back against the bench, crossing your arms.

"A cat brought you down? The oh so mighty y/n?" He snickered walking in your direction.

"I do have knives on me and still one hell of an aim." You retorted back, glaring at him.

"Except when it comes to the dreamy dark haired assassin." He shot back with a wink. "I'm beginning to think you may be purposely messing up."

"Fernando."

"Aye, settle down, let's go over other options." He said sitting down on the stool in front of one of the many computers in the garage. "So poison and venoms are a no go."

"Yeah, Hydra thought it would be a wonderful idea to make him impenetrable with those." You sighed, looking over as he clicked away, one finger peck at a time.

"You tried stabbing, and missing." He added.

"More like a miscalculation." You grumbled thinking back to your failed attempt.

"You totaled a car on him."

"Don't remind me, I actually kinda liked that car." You brought your hands to you face and rubbed downward.

"Have you tried to set him on fire?" He asked, you raised your eyebrow at him.

"Set him on fire?" You repeated. "Please Fernando, I’d like to hear how I'm supposed to get close enough without blowing my cover to him on fire."

"Me? I don't know, your the second best assassin in the world, or are you not?" He asked with a trace of humor in his voice. "I mean you could always try to drown him, bombs, screw him, drive by, hatchet throwing, car chase. There are still multiple ways to kill the man."

"I know, I know, I'm just not used to trying this many times in a row." You huffed walking over to the spare stool and flopping down.

"You did not think the Winter Soldier would be an easy task, did you girly?" He asked, looking over at you.

"He may be the worlds best, altered by Hydra, but he still a man and still bleeds." You growled back.

"Then do what they pay you for." Fernando responded turning back to the open files on his computer.

———

"Someone took a shot at you?!" Steve asked, voice raised, running a hand through his hair.

"Yep, with this." Bucky replied calmly, dropping the sniper riffle on the briefing table.

"Jesus, Buck." Steve breathed, looking over the black metal. It wasn't like people didn’t hate bucky, sure there were a lot of people out there that didn't care much for the man but to actively go out of their way to shoot at him in public.

"It's an older model, that's for sure, kept in really good shape. Whoever had it made a few modifications to it but they did a damn good job." Bucky smirked as his finger tips traveled up the sleek metal. "It's highly accurate, I was looking through the scopes myself. I just got lucky bending down to pet a cat."

"They missed cause you decided to pet a cat?" Steve asked, eyes nearly bugging out of his head.

"Yeah." Bucky chuckled.

"Buck, this isn't funny, someone is trying to kill you." Steve snapped, Bucky raised his eyebrow at his friend still grinning like an idiot. He knew that this shouldn't excite him like it did.

Sure, saving people and the planet was a daunting task and a rewarding one but this, this was something different. This was all about him, this was a one on one fight. Something he hadn't had since that day he attacked Steve, while under the control of Hydra. He didn’t realize how much he had missed it.

"I know that, and trust me I'll be more alert. Anyway, whoever it was, they were pretty efficient. The building was completely vacant, and any cameras that were in the area were taken down, along with the neighboring buildings." Bucky explained, eyes traveling over the mystery assassins weapon of choice. He knew it, and knew it well. He had used one just like during his time under Hydras control, if he didn't know any better. "They were long gone by the time I made it to the vantage point, the area was wiped down. Any serial numbers this bad boy might of had was stripped decades ago."

"So, what you're saying is someone is trying to assassinate you?" Steve asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Sure looks that way." Bucky stated, looking up from the weapon.

———

You were back at your own place going over a few ideas on your next move when your phone went off. It was text from Bucky. You ignored it at first even though your heart fluttered at the sight of his name. Stupid attractive man that refused to die.

If he would just die you wouldn't be hand writing notes and doing equations to try and figure out how you were supposed to get close enough to pour fire accelerant on him and then light a match. In theory you could have a car wreck with him in, faulty seatbelt, car explodes, dead Bucky "immortal" Barnes.

The only downside, if somehow it didn't work he would know and then you would be the one looking over shoulder for the rest of your life. You had pondered just a really bad car accident and rig your car to blow. But, even then, you had already point blank hit the man with a car and he survived, just your luck he would waltz out of the raising flames like the handsome Phoenix he was. Plus, you didn't actually know if he drived anything other then the bike.

Briefly you had scribbled down drowning and then scratched out, there would be no way for that one to work. If hydra had made him so that way poison and venom didn't work, they certainly taught the man how to swim.

Stupid cat.

The phone went off again and you sighed, what was the harm? Maybe talking to him would spark an creative idea. Plus, there wasn’t much you had going for the night, might as well have a little down time and relax with the man.

Bucky: Hey.

Bucky: how’s your night going?

You: a bit boring, how’s yours?

Bucky: about the same, there is a festival downtown, kinda like a renaissance fair. Wanna go?

You smiled to yourself, renaissance fair. That meant knives, swords, any luck a fire dancer or two. Maybe tonight you would be lucky enough to enact your plan to set that handsome man on Fire.

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bbykpoper · 5 years

Text

Bitter Sweet Symphony

Jae x reader

part 14 - Hog's Head Inn

words: probably somewhere around 2.8k

A/N: I know that the timeline of the song and story don't match but just like ignore it please? Thank you. Also, I hope nobody gets offended by me mixing stuff up... it's called fiction for a reason🙄

tag list: @softminygi @zico-aesthetics (slowly building this little sections so do come along and message me if you wanna be apart of it)

Y/N glared over playfully at Jae and his friends as they both snorted out a laugh. Wonpil had woken up and proceeded to spam the girl with funny pictures of Jae, but at the same time sent some questioning photos of Y/N herself to the Slytherin boy. And now, both were wagging war on twitter, almost crashing the app on both of their phones.

Sunmi glanced at the girl sitting opposite her at the table and smiled in amusement as she observed her reactions to the Slytherin blond boy with the soft rimmed glasses. Even though they started out on the wrong foot, it seems they are slowly gravitating to one another in a finer manner.

"Sunmi-unnie." Momo whispered to grab the Ravenclaw girl's attention. "Don't you think Y/N-unnie and Jae-oppa would make a good couple?"

Sunmi almost choked on her butterbeer as the younger Hufflepuff looked on to the two. If even the dull Momo managed to figure out the chemistry between these two then who hasn't?

"I agree little Momo. They would make the fine pair." Sunmi nodded and caught the angered gaze of Sungjin directed at Jae. 'Ho, do I smell jealousy?' She smiled at the thought only for it to be broken by a ping on Y/N's phone.

The girl quickly scanned the message she got and sighed, standing up and grabbing the blue coat which was drapped over her chair. She met eyes with Jae and smirked at him endaringly.

"We'll continue our banter later snake boy." She said as she looked back over to Sunmi. "Don't wait up for me, I probably won't be back until curfew."

"Alright. I'll bribe our head girl again if you stay out later." Sunmi nodded. "Be careful Y/N."

"Thank you." She hugged the older girl. "And don't worry so much about me, I'll be fine."

And with that Y/N went off towards the exit, noticing just how much Jae was following her every move with his eyes.

"See you later, Jae." Y/N stopped short when the older boy blushed at her use of his name and at the same time blushed back.

She quickly scurried out the door into the cold and headed up the street away from the Three Broomsticks Inn.

"What the hell was that Y/N? Get yourself together damn it."

And with that she walked towards the Hog's Head Inn.

Just as Y/N left the Three Broomsticks Sungjin turned to Jae anger evident in his eyes. Sunmi also noticed the shift in atmosphere because the Slytherin boy wasn't blushing so much anymore, rather he was now coldly staring at his Gryffindor friend.

"What?" Jae asked out loud.

"What? You dare ask me what when you know very well what?!" Sungjin looked like a volcano ready to errupt any second.

"You're mad at me because I talked to Y/N." Jae sighed and rolled his eyes. "I don't remember you having any power over me or her to ban us from talking."

"Jae you know I like her!" Sunmi coughed just as Momo took a very loud bite of her cookie. "I have a feeling you like her too and she likes you. Which means I have no chance to get close to her what so ever!"

Jae's eyes only grew colder as he looked at his younger friend with a slight annoyance in his expression. Both Younghyun and Dowoon moved over to the table where the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff girl sat, fearing the worst and not exactly wishing to be in the middle of this little argument.

"Sungjin, I really don't care what you are thinking about right now and the fact that I have to walk on egg shells around you is getting on my last nerve more than you know." Jae stood up loudly and sighed. "I'm going to be the bigger person here and leave the room so a fight doesn't break out between us, but remember this well Sungjin." Jae's pointed look stayed on the dark haired boy just as four pairs of eager eyes observed him from the next table. "I do like Y/N, and I will not give up on her just because you don't have the balls to confess to her."

And with that the Slytherin boy left the Inn, a very awkward silence falling between the students present.

The Hog's Head Inn had a distinctive smell of stale mold as Y/N walked inside. She noticed not many people ever visited this place and the people in here seemed to be either very grumpy old men or some very sketchy students.

No wonder this place was always full of Slytherins.

The girl proceeded to walk towards the rusty old stairs and took one at a time with caution as to not fall through the creacking wood. It didn't take her much time at all to reach the upstairs sitting room where a man in dark robes sat tending to the fire. With a heavy intake of breath, which almost suffocated the girl thanks to the pilled up dust of this place, she walked over to the empty seat beside the man and patted off the dirt from the cushion as much as she could before sitting down.

"It's good to see you daughter." The man spoke, his dark almond eyes meeting Y/N's presence.

"I could say the same to you, but we both know that would be a lie." The girl grumbled out. "Why am I here?"

"Straight to the point I see. No wonder your mother is angered with your sharp tongue." The man smiled softly. "It's the same as hers."

Y/N rolled her eyes not answering nor speaking further.

"It's a blessing to be able to summon a patronus Y/N. And you did that all by yourself without trying beforehand. I must compliment you on the execution of the spell perfectly." The man spoke as he leaned back into the armchair he was sitting on. "I spoke with Dumbledore and he praised your school work as much as your talent for quidditch. I'm very proud of your progress." The girl rolled her eyes at those words. "I have taken the liberty of asking Headmaster Dumbledore to let you take a break from school for a few days so you may visit your mother and brother."

Y/N eyes hardened at these words but she kept her tongue at bay. It wasn't the time yet to attack the man out of nowhere like that with her clear displeasure of these events.

"And why would I agree to this?" She asked stoic.

"Y/N, you haven't seen your mother or brother for the last 5 years of your school life. You always stay at Hogwarts for the holidays and never answer any of the letters your mother sends you." Y/N's gaze never wavered from the fire. "I know you and Sao don't have the strongest of sibling bonds but they are still your family."

"I thought I wasn't her daughter anymore since Sao didn't show any affinity to magic and I did." It was more of a statement than a thought. "I'm not leaving Hogwarts in the middle of the school term just because the woman can't apologise and for a brother that doesn't want to see me."

Y/N stood to go but stopped short at her father's next words.

"I don't wish to take these means but if you don't go I will have to resign you from Hogwarts for good." Y/N's eyes filled with wide anger bore into her father's. "I'm sorry daughter, but it's the only way."

The students of Hogwarts who lingered in the halls all began moving left and right as Y/N went full speed down in a running motion, her coat flailing behind her like a majestic cape. She was taking twists and turns and stairs two at a time to reach the Gargoyle corridor where Headmaster Dumbledore's office is located. With heavy breaths she stopped in front of the gargoyle and tapped it on the head for it to wake up.

The gargoyle stirred and glared at the girl as she only huffed before saying the password.

"Iced mice." The gargoyle groaned but moved letting the girl pass through.

She climbed all the way up to the office, entering it with a soft knock.

"My my Miss Jeong, I don't remember telling you the password to my office." Dumbledore spoke up from his seat behind his desk.

He smiled kindly through his long white beard and gestured for the girl to come closer and take a seat.

"Is it true?" Y/N didn't move from her standing postition in the middle of the room. "Is it true that my father will be taking me out of school if I don't leave?"

"Miss Jeong calm down." Dumbledore stood up and walked around his desk to face the girl fully. "It is true your father requested your absence for a few days but I have not given him permision. I believe that only you may choose if you wish to leave or not."

"But he said he'll take me away..." Y/N fidgeted with the sleeves of her coat not understanding what was happening.

"Miss Jeong you have nothing to fear. Professor Flitwick has been notified of this and will not allow such actions to take place. Do get some rest, curfew is soon upon us." The headmaster smiled as a confused Y/N went to leave. "Oh and Miss Jeong?" The girl turned around. "We'll talk about you knowing about the password to my office tomorrow. Good night."

Y/N moved through the halls not paying attention to anything or anybody. The halls were mostly empty with a few prefects walking about to check who is still out to remind them of their curfew. And just as she turned the corner she bumped into somebody stopping in her zombie like pace.

"Y/N?"

She looked up to be met with a thick tuff of blond hair covering a pair of eyes behind some glasses.

"Jae?" She blinked a few times until she burst into a fit of soft sobs and grabbed onto the taller boy's green bomber jacket. "...Jae..."

Jae barely had time to come to terms with the fact that: a) his crush had just called him by name while sobbing, b) his crush is literally clinging to him and c) the Slytherin prefect is out looking for students that are out after curfew and he's one of them. So what does Jae do? Jae gently takes Y/N's hand and they run through the halls to the more secluded part of the Hogwarts castle and hide in one of the many towers where they will not be bothered.

"Are you okay?" Jae asked Y/N as he gently sat down next to her on the ground.

"No." She squeaked out and sniffed.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" He asked her again.

"No." She answered again.

Jae blinked but nodded understanding her completely. He felt a small hand wrap around his and he blushed intensely when the smaller girl placed her head on his shoulder.

"Just... stay here... like this..." She whispered out.

"Okay, I can do that." Jae said nervous, adding in a giggle or two. "I can do that no problem."

Y/N only snorted but tried to calm down her extenseve sobbing. Jae placed his head on the cold wall and began humming softly to a song in his head, earning a curious glance from the girl.

Y/N kept quiet as she listened to the soft humms of the young boy.

"That's pretty, what's the title?" Y/N asked.

"Oh? Well it's a song by a muggle band, The Verve." Jae looked down at Y/N. "Bitter Sweet Symphony."

"Kind of sums up my life right now." Y/N giggled and looked up at Jae.

Their faces were only inches appart, their breaths mixing as their eyes lingered on each other. Y/N felt the mint radiate off of his lips just as Jae enjoyed the smell of lillies from her hair. The milisecond of bounce in Jae's eyes that went from her eyes to her lips didn't go unnoticed by the girl and she darted the tip of her tongue out to wet her plump lips.

"Oh fuck it." Jae hissed and leaned in to the girl fully, placing his lips on hers.

The kiss was hesitant at first, Jae being so unsure and slowly regretting the fact that he even made a move. That is until Y/N placed her arms around his neck and kissed him back, catching him by surprise. His hands travelled down to her hips just as the girl climbed onto his lap, their lips moving in union.

When they pulled back from each other to grab a hefty fine of air Jae noticed the lust in Y/N's eyes and she too noticed the need in his. The girl only smirked and kissed the boy again.

"Oh fuck it well Jae." Y/N pushed him down to the floor just as he moaned into her mouth at the sudden friction of his lower body.

The sudden darkness of the lonesome tower aided the two in this night adventure as both did their best to keep the noise to a minimum.

#kpop #social media au #day6 wonpil #day6 young k #day6 sungjin #day6 jae #day6 dowoon #day6 #hogwarts au

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