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ficsilike-reblogged · 2 years ago

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Invisible Smoke - Two

Summary: There is something going on with Jake’s favorite mechanic. And he continues to pry. Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin/F!Reader Word Count: 9.7k A/N: Thank you for all the love on the first chapter, I truly wasn’t expecting it. I apologize for the wait, but hopefully the length will make up for it! Warnings: Naval inaccuracies, themes of stalking, cursing, mentions of terminal and life-threatening illnesses, and combative fluff :)

The ceremony was wonderful if not a little long winded but you hardly cared as you stood with the rest of the crowd to cheer as Captain Mitchell and Admiral Simpson presented the Daggers, officially a squadron of Lieutenant Commanders. You caught Rooster’s eye, having watched Captain Mitchell pin the leaves to his uniform, and saw that he still had tears lining his lower lashes. You winked at him, earning a small smile and a bit of pink in his cheeks. You were so proud.

“I’m so happy for him!” Came a warbled voice and you held the phone in your hand a little higher. This wasn’t exactly how you thought you’d meet Jake’s family (not that you had ever given it much thought, really) but when he’d explained that his family couldn’t make it out to the ceremony for one reason or another, you had volunteered to make sure their FaceTime was at the right angle so they could see everything. There were four of them all crammed together—his mother, Sandra, and three sisters, Mia, Kelly, and Alex—staring at what you assumed was an iPad with how Sandra was holding it; blonde heads swiveling together to track Jake’s movements on the stage had been quite the spectacle but when you had glanced up to see Jake looking at you with the biggest, brightest smile you had ever seen it had nearly made you drop the phone.

Embarrassing.

As the ceremony wrapped up and the crowd started to disperse, you lingered near your chair and watched as everyone else reunited with the family that came to watch the ceremony, shook hands with the brass, or hurried off to the Hard Deck to celebrate because Captain Mitchell had, unsurprisingly, sweet talked Penny into letting them take over (again). You waved Tasha on when she went to wait for you and she frowned but did eventually leave, looping her arm through her older sister’s before disappearing out into the parking lot.

“Is my son making you wait?”

You glanced down at the phone with a smile. “He’s schmoozing with some of the big wigs. I’m in no rush to go anywhere.”

Sandra hummed, green eyes narrowing behind her glasses as she paused. It was almost comical how much the expression reminded you of Jake when he was thinking of something. “Well, sugar, I hate to ask this, but could you remind me of your name?”

You gave it readily but added, “most call me Punch.”

Mia once again appeared on screen, leaning down with a matching squint. “Punch?”

“Yeah. It’s a long story but-”

“Oh, we’ve heard of you.”

That had your brow pinching and you fought the urge to bring the phone closer to your face as if that would help you decipher the look on Jake’s sister’s face. All you managed to say was, “oh?”

A smile started to stretch across Mia’s face. “Don’t worry. All good things.”

The phone was snatched out of your hands before you could ask just what the hell that meant and you turned to see Jake smiling at his family on the little screen. “Hi, mama.”

“Jacob Seresin!” Sandra started. “Did you make Punch wait when she was doing you a favor?”

If possible, Jake’s smile widened and his sea glass gaze shifted to you. “Already ganging up on me with my mom?”

“Your family is a delight,” you drawled. “You must be adopted.”

There was an answering laugh that had Jake’s cheeks turning a light shade of pink before he nudged at your arm with the flat of his palm. “Get out of here.”

“It was nice to meet you, Sandra!” You hollered, already turned toward the door.

Sandra’s laugh rang out again and you walked out to the car, thankful to see a few small groups of people still milling about in the warm San Diego sun. You were quick to get into your car and lock the door behind you before curling your hands over the steering wheel. Your next breath was a slow, stuttering sigh. It had only been four days since you had seen him in the parking lot of the Hard Deck.

Lurking.

Smirking.

And it had been four days since you felt like you could actually breathe. A familiar pressure on your chest had been your constant companion. You knew it was part of your anxiety, a physical manifestation of your fear. You were still on that metaphorical cliff, waiting to fall. You leaned back against the seat and tried to drag in another breath but it was like your lungs couldn’t expand. Pressing your hands over your stomach you tried again and again and again until the ache lessened enough for you to continue to pretend.

Pretend to be normal.

Pretend to be okay.

You’d nearly blown it when Jake had walked you out of the Hard Deck. But maybe he just thought you really wanted to get away from him and brushed it off, thinking you were in a mood. He had only texted to make sure you made it home okay and you’d spent the rest of the night on the couch with a baseball bat clutched in a shaking grip. But you had continued on. Going to work. Putting on a smile and a brave face. Keeping your mouth shut. It was better this way.

With another stilted breath, you grabbed your bag from your backseat and changed out of your uniform and into the dress you’d picked for the night before driving off base. The Hard Deck’s parking lot was already starting to reach capacity so you took the first space you could find and smoothed out your dress as your car beeped, letting you know the doors were locked. The inside of the naval bar was just as busy as the parking lot and you dodged an elbow of someone playing darts not two steps in. Weaving through the crowd, you waved at a few familiar faces—mostly other ADs grouped near one of the windows—and waited to finally make it up to the bar. Jimmy and Penny were both fixing drinks and a few other employees were picking up empty glasses left abandoned on high tops and booths. It might be a minute.

“Hey.”

You looked to the side with a smile and pulled Bob into a hug which he quickly reciprocated. “Hey yourself, Lieutenant Commander Floyd.”

Bob’s cheeks flushed a tiny bit and he adjusted his grip on the hat beneath his arm as you stepped back. “You’ve got to meet my brother before he flies out.”

“Of course. But first, let me buy you a drink.” And as he opened his mouth to protest, you shook your head. “You wouldn’t let me do anything else so I’m buying you a drink.” Bob sighed but dutifully followed you up to the bar and let you pay for his ginger ale but grumbled when you insisted on buying his brother’s drink, too. You also had Penny put together a round for the Daggers you knew would be circling the pool tables soon enough. Bob helped you carry everything toward the table where his brother was waiting. You’d ‘met’ Bob’s brother, Harrison, a few times when you accidentally barged in on Bob FaceTiming his family but it was nice to finally meet him in person. He was just as charming as Bob but had a few more extroverted tendencies and regaled you with stories about the year he took off before medical school to ‘visit’ Bob who was stationed in Hawaii and spent the entire time learning to surf and trying to teach Bob, too.

“I never quite got the hang of it,” Bob admitted, still sipping on his ginger ale.

“You tried your best!” Harrison said with a kind smile. But soon his phone was beeping and he grimaced before standing from the table. “All right. I’ve gotta catch my flight back to New York.”

“Let me know when you land,” Bob murmured as he stood and wrapped him in a hug.

You might have heard a muffled ‘of course,’ before they separated but you definitely heard Harrison say, “I’m so proud of you.” He clapped his brother on the shoulder again before turning to you with a smile and he surprised you with a quick kiss to the cheek. “Thank you for keeping him safe.”

“That’s mostly Phoenix,” you said with a smile.

But Harrison shook his head. “I’m sure it is a team effort. Now, keep in touch, okay?” And then he breezed away, disappearing into the crowd and probably into a waiting taxi outside.

You spoke for a little longer, mostly about the ceremony and how Cyclone actually seemed like a human instead of a robot the last handful of days but Admiral Cain still seemed like a douchebag of the highest order. By now the rest of the Daggers had arrived, to much fanfare in the bar, and would sometimes filter by the table to grab a beer and chat for a bit—Natasha’s sister was a riot and had Tasha’s blushing a surprising shade of scarlet after telling you and Bob a particularly embarrassing story about “baby Tash” trying to jump off the roof with a bedsheet cape before she, too, had to leave to catch a flight back home. And you almost hated that you knew the exact moment Jake entered the bar, like you couldn’t help but turn toward him whenever he appeared, like a sunflower facing the sun. Again…embarrassing. However, you noticed Bob kept looking at the group of women circled around one of the high tops and you nudged his shoulder with your own. “Don’t,” he muttered.

“What?” You asked, fighting a smile.

“I know what you’re thinking.” He took another sip of his ginger ale and shook his head. “It isn’t happening.”

“And why not? You deserve someone nice. They look nice…for the most part,” you added with a scrunch of your nose. “Maybe the blonde in the red dress looks a bit mean, but the rest of them look nice. Want me to go over there and test the waters? I can see which ones would be down to handle that sword-”

“Punch!” It was honestly impressive how quickly Bob’s face went a violent shade of scarlet and he nearly dropped his pop.

“You got a sword with your promotion. I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but I am a lady, Bobert.”

He snorted and knuckled at his glasses to push them up again. “Sure. Sure you are, Punch.”

Then you laughed. You laughed and that weight in your chest cracked and fizzled out. For now, you could breathe again. Bob eventually got you up and away from the table with the promise to take it easy on you with a game of pool—he lied. The WSO absolutely demolished you in an embarrassingly quick game.

“That was brutal,” Tasha said as she grabbed a beer.

“It was.” You handed her the cue with a wince. “But, to make it up to me, Bob now has to let me test the waters with the ladies he’s been eyeing all night.”

Tasha glanced over at the group when you tilted your head in their direction and hummed. “Not the blonde in the red dress. She looks mean.”

Bob just groaned. “Please keep the sword innuendos to a minimum.”

“Why? You need someone who knows how to handle that ceremonial saber-”

The sound of someone choking on their beer had you all turning to see Jake wiping at his face. Tasha, smirking, smacked him on the back a few times to ‘help.’ He nudged her away with a halfhearted scowl as he licked the last few drops from his lips. “Jesus.”

“What?”

Jake’s smirk vanished but you could tell he was fighting to keep it down as his brows furrowed in an echo of a certain Admiral’s disappointed frown. “So crass-”

“Oh, blow me, Ken. It isn’t like you don’t have a list of sword-related pickup lines or nicknames at the ready.”

Tasha laughed into her beer and you felt a little zing of pride—you always did when you made her laugh.

“You did call that one barracks bunny a sword swallower,” Rooster said, cutting into conversation with ease. And it was then that the party really seemed to start and you let Tasha pull you into a game of darts (you lost) before you did actually try to get a read on the group of women and deciding that, actually, they all seemed a little mean and they were more interested in Captain Mitchell and Admiral Simpson anyway, if their drunken whispers were anything to go by.

You’d find a lady for Bob. One day.

After watching Bradley and Tasha beat Billy and Neil at pool and finally finishing your drink, you remembered Sarah’s invitation and stepped to Bradley’s side again as he went to grab another beer from the table. As soon as you were within reach, he slung an arm over your shoulders and hauled you closer. “You doing okay?” He asked, voice low.

You sagged in his grip, a reaction you couldn’t fight. He made you feel safe. He always did. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

You winced at the tone. He had an innate way of knowing you were feeling off. And you hadn’t been exactly subtle in how you were acting lately. But you didn’t want to put more on Bradley’s plate, not now. Not when he was high on the new hardware on his collar. “Yeah,” you said, trying to sound convincing before changing the subject. “Sarah’s throwing an engagement party for Junior. She said I could bring someone and I thought you’d like to go? I know it’s been a minute since you’ve seen them all.”

Bradley set down his beer with a nod, licking the droplets from his lips. “When is it?”

“Friday.” And your heart plummeted as Bradley’s face crumpled and his arm slipped from your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Punch, but I promised Mav I’d help him haul in a part for his plane—we’re leaving at like five in the morning on Saturday.”

You nodded as you pinched your lower lip between your fingers until Bradley swatted it away with a knowing look. “I can ask Bob-”

“Bob and Phoenix have been asked to speak in Annapolis this weekend.”

Fuck. Fuck! You knew that. How could you forget? He’d been so excited when he got the call to lead a few classes back at his alma mater. “This is fine. I can just go by my-”

“I’ll go with you.”

Jake heard something in your neck pop with how quickly you turned your head to look at him. “What?”

And Jake almost recoiled at the amount of shock in your tone. “I mean, if you need someone to go with you.” Then, when neither you or Bradley said anything, Jake was about to retract his offer, already feeling stupid for opening his mouth in the first place. Usually he’d be more conscious to not let anyone know he was eavesdropping but the four beers he’d had probably loosened his tongue and he’d pounced at the opportunity to take you anywhere before he could stop himself with thoughts of repercussions. “I-”

“You’d do that?” And Jake hated how small your voice was, barely heard over the noise of the bar.

“Yeah. ‘Course.” And your smile was near blinding, twisting at something Jake didn’t want to acknowledge behind his ribs.

He listened intently to what the party was about—engagement for your not-actual-little brother, and when you’d pick him up—“I’m driving, you’re going to have to deal with it,” and what was expected—“just have a good time. And sign the card I’m buying, you can take half the credit for the gift I’m bringing, too.”

It sounded like it could be a good time. But if you smiled at him like that again, he’d probably agree to anything. You also told Jake to be ready by 18:20 next Friday so you’d be on time for the party and then Jake tried to ignore how that familiar feeling came roaring back in the confines of his chest as he watched you walk back toward the bar.

A hand clapping on his shoulder pulled Jake from admiring how your hips swayed with each step and he turned to see Rooster still standing beside him. His hazel eyes went from Jake to you and then back to Jake. “Let’s have a chat, Bagman.”

Fuck.

By the time you swiped a bit of tinted balm over your lips, you’d told yourself sixteen times that you were making a mistake but, “it would be fine.” You checked your watch and nodded: you were still on time. Early, actually. Jake would meet you at the Hard Deck and then you’d drive you both over to the Kazansky home to save room on the driveway—knowing Sarah, she’d probably invited half the people in her contacts and would still consider it a small party.

And you were contemplating texting Jake and telling him to forget it and that you’d go by yourself. It was too risky. Too intimate. Accepting his offer to go with you had been stupid. And choosing a dress that you knew made your tits look good because you’d caught Jake looking at you the last time you wore a dress like this was also very, very stupid. But when your phone chirped and Jake’s text lit up the screen—“Ready when you are, Punch!”—you knew it was too late.

And really…didn’t you deserve to have a good night?

He had robbed you of enough, hadn’t he? You could have one night. And there was a small bit of you that hoped he was satisfied with just scaring you once.

When you pulled into the Hard Deck’s parking lot, you were barely stopped before the passenger side door opened and Jake slid in with a bright smile and filled your car with the scent of his cologne—leather and oak moss and something distinctly Jake. “Ready?”

“Do you usually hurl yourself into moving vehicles or is that a recent addition to your lengthy list of ways you are a man-child?”

Jake’s smile widened. “You keeping lists about me?”

You resisted the urge to smack his arm and scowled instead as you reached into the backseat to grab the card you’d picked and made sure to hit him in the chest with it and the pen you wrestled from the bottom of your purse. “Sign that.”

Jake clicked the pen several times as he read over the mushy words Hallmark had written for a recently engaged couple and you drummed your fingers against the steering wheel as you slowed to a stop at a red light. If he said anything about the paragraph you wrote you might just-

“This is a nice card.” He then signed his name with a flourish and tucked it into the envelope. “What gift did you get them?”

“We got them an engagement photo shoot with a photographer who I may or may not have bombarded with emails and bribed after realizing Taylor follows her on instagram.” Were you proud of that? Not really. But you had felt extraordinarily bad after realizing that Junior had texted you after he proposed and you hadn’t responded until two weeks later. You knew he’d say there was nothing to apologize for but you still felt the need to make up for it.

“No, Punch,” he started. “My mama told me to never take credit for something I didn’t do. That gift is from you. I got them this.” He held up a bottle of champagne that you knew cost a few hundred dollars with a little silver bow taped to the neck. How you managed to miss that when he basically threw himself into your car, you’d never know (you were probably distracted by the way his thighs flexed beneath his nice trousers).

But it didn’t matter. You sealed the card after slipping the photographer’s business card inside. “It would’ve been fine, you know. But I’m sure they’ll love the champagne, too.”

Jake’s chest puffed a bit at that and you tried to not look too much at the tan skin that was revealed with the movement nor the silver links of his dog tags you knew were hiding beneath his obscenely tight shirt. You failed. And when he caught you looking, his smirk returned.

You couldn’t have that. “Careful, Ken. If you pop a button I’ll have to drop you on the nearest street corner.”

And then the asshole actually unbuttoned the next button. “I like to think I’d be a high-end escort. Like for senators.”

The answering laugh punched out of you before you could even pretend to not find him funny.

The rest of the drive was spent slapping his hand away from the radio when he said your taste in music was terrible—even when you caught him singing along with Stevie on your preferred classic rock station. It was good and easy and you almost hated it by the time you parked outside Sarah’s house, managing to snag a place beside the mailbox.

Jake was at your side before you reached the front door and knocked his foot into yours when you sucked in a breath before knocking at the front door. Yeah. Coming with him was a mistake. A beautiful, terrible mistake.

Jake had never been to the Kazansky home. On the ride over, you gave him a rundown on who he needed to know—Missus Kazansky, Junior and his fiancée Taylor, and younger sister Lily—and how to behave. It was mostly good natured ribbing and an actual threat to push him out a window if he hit on Lily.

“Okay, no Lily, but Missus Kazansky is free game?” That quip had earned him a glare so intense he would swear he saw his life flash before his eyes.

Worth it.

After all, it wasn’t all that often that Jake got to see you like this. Sure, he saw you in uniform on base and you had the innate ability to have a spare change of clothes wherever you went so you were never in uniform when you didn’t need to be so he got to see you in civvies often. But that was usually jeans and t-shirts. Maybe that one pair of shorts he thought about when he couldn’t sleep, if he was lucky.

But right now you were in another dress and he could see the thighs that he definitely didn’t dream about peeking out from the skirt as you shifted your weight from foot to foot. You were…

He couldn’t say gorgeous.

He couldn’t say beautiful.

He couldn’t say stunning.

So, you were special. And right now, as you waited at his side for the door to open, he could smell your perfume. Gardenias and sunshine.

His grandmother had special flower beds just for her gardenias—she once said that the soil in southern Texas was too acidic for her favorite flower but she was determined to have them near the ranch and had planter boxes filled with specialty soil and heaps of the flowers. All of his favorite memories of home were filled with the scent of the small white blooms.

And then there was you. You smelled like home.

The door opened and a petite blonde smiled at you before wrapping you in a quick hug. “Oh, sweetheart, you know you don’t need to knock.”

“Old habits,” you murmured as you returned the hug. When you stepped back, you gestured to Jake. “This is Lieutenant Commander Jacob Seresin. He’s part of the Dagger Squadron with Bradley. Jake, this is Sarah Kazansky.”

After shaking her hand and murmuring his thanks for letting him tag along, Jake stood a little straighter as Missus Kazansky’s eyes looked him over. “You’re Hangman, aren’t you? I’ve heard of you from Pete.” Then, without giving any indication as to what that meant, she waved you in and Jake followed suit. The inside of the large house was filled with people with champagne flutes in their hands as soft pop ballads from decades ago filtered through a hidden sound system, crooning about love.

You complimented Sarah on the tasteful decorations and earned yourself a motherly pat to your cheek before she called out for someone. There was an answering squeal and you shoved the card in your hand to Jake just in time to brace as a younger woman wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug.

“I’ve missed you so much!”

You laughed and returned the hug before holding her at arm's length with a smile. “Pasadena looks good on you! And you’re so close to graduating!”

This must be Lily, then. Jake watched you talk with her for a moment, seeing you smile as you traded a few short stories and Lily tugged at the skirt of your dress with a mischievous look in her eye. “You’ve gotta tell me where you bought this. You’re a bombshell.”

You waved away the compliment—as Jake knew you often did—and rattled off some store name as Lily shook her head.

“No, no. Take the compliment. You look gorgeous.” Then Lily’s sharp eyes moved to Jake. Jesus Christ. She was Ice Man’s daughter—that look was cold and calculating. “Doesn’t she look beautiful?”

And Jake’s mouth opened-

“Lily, c’mon. Stop it.” Your voice was nearly a whine. “This is Lieutenant Commander Jacob Seresin. He is one of the Daggers with me at Top Gun. Jake, this is Lily Kazansky. She’s about to graduate from Cal Tech with her degree in Engineering and applied science.”

A matching smile pushed at Lily’s mouth as her eyes raked over him. While Jake usually preened over such an obvious once-over, there was absolutely nothing wanting in her gaze. And maybe having you standing beside him helped…but he wasn’t going to address that. “Hangman. Yeah. I’ve heard of you.” Then Lily’s gaze flickered to you. “Enjoy the party. I think Mom needs my help in the kitchen.” And then she flounced away as you sighed.

“She’s…”

“Don’t say it,” you griped, pulling the envelope out of his grasp again.

“I was going to say intense.”

You nodded as you gnawed on your bottom lip before grabbing the champagne Jake was still holding and setting it on the gift table behind you. “She’s all Tom. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s running the Pacific Fleet by the time she’s forty.” But you waved that away, too, and tugged at his arm, leading him toward the exorbitant spread of finger foods on another table a few paces away. You snagged him a flute of champagne as you handed him a plate and then Jake let you wrangle you both onto a pair of the few remaining empty seats near the kitchen bar.

“Not going to mingle?”

“God, no. I hate mingling. You are free to go off and schmooze, if you want. There are a few people here you may know—probably shook hands with them at your ceremony.” You waved your flute toward a group of middle aged men near the fireplace and, yes, Jake knew them. All of them were upper echelons of the Navy brass and had congratulated him on the promotion. “I won’t hold your seat though.”

Jake laughed and shook his head. “I think I’m good right where I am, Punch. But thank you.” He glanced over at the men to see them already looking in your direction. They each raised their highball glasses with practiced smiles which you and Jake reciprocated with a tip of your champagne flutes. “You sure you don’t want to talk to them?”

You shrugged as you turned back to your food, plucking a small cube of cheese from the assortment and eating it quickly. “If I wanted to talk to them, I could’ve done it at barbecues or one of Sarah’s soirées that she liked to host. I just…don’t care enough. I climbed up the ranks by accident mostly. I like where I am.”

Jake frowned at that. “What do you mean?” You were headstrong and tenacious. Not having drive or ambition just didn’t line up with what he knew about you, with how you presented yourself.

You popped a cherry tomato into your mouth and chewed and swallowed before answering, almost like you were stalling for time. “I’m not a lifer like you, Jake. I didn’t dream of joining the navy as a kid or anything like that. You probably had a vision board or something, right? Asked for model planes since you could talk. You look the type. Probably ate some of the pieces, too.”

But Jake didn’t take the bait and he’d never admit that he did swallow lego when he was seven. “Then why did you enlist? You could go anywhere.”

You were quiet again and that familiar twist in his chest returned as your lips pushed up in a small smile. Then your eyes searched his face, visibly debating something, and you must have found what you were looking for because you nodded, just once, unknowingly twisting the knife you didn’t know you held. “You caught me in a good mood. I’ll tell you. No one will believe you, but I’ll tell you.”

He resisted the urge to grab at your hand and just hold it as he said, “try me.”

“Sparknotes version?”

Jake wanted to know everything. Wanted to ask you to tell him every little detail so he could know you better than anyone else. But he could wait. Maybe. “Sure.”

“My little brother, Danny, got sick his first year of high school. Really sick. Expensive sick. I was in my last year of school and had the choice to either go to university or find a job that could help with the bills.” Your next breath had your shoulders sagging. “The Navy was the only recruitment office that wasn’t on lunch when I walked in. Four days after graduating high school, I was shipping off for training. Then I was volunteering for any deployment that my commanding officers even hinted at because I knew that deployment meant more pay. So, I was accidentally a decorated AD because I was desperate.”

Jake felt you jump when his hand landed on yours as it rested on the table beside him but you didn’t pull away so he selfishly curled his fingers over your wrist, content to feel the warmth you exuded. He remembered the photo on your desk and the soft look you’d been giving him—that was your baby brother. “Is he-”

“Oh, he’s fine now. Finishing up his doctorate at MIT.” Another smile pushed at your lips as you shook your head before your other hand settled over Jake’s. “Healthy as can be. Lily actually reminds me a lot of Danny. Both of them hated their English classes in high school. They’d prefer to have a root canal than write a book report. I probably did too much to actually have them learn anything about The Catcher in the Rye or Persuasion, but I just wanted to see them succeed.”

Jake’s heart leapt when he felt your thumb sweep over his knuckles as you kept looking out over the crowd. It was just a little touch. A little brush of your skin on his. And it was…special.

But as soon as it started, it stopped as you pulled your hands away from him and waved at someone in the crowd. “There’s the couple of the hour.”

Jake turned to see a younger blond guy with his arm wrapped around a smiling brunette. She’d reached up to tangle her fingers with his, showing off the massive rock on her finger. They must be Junior and Taylor—the pair certainly had that look about them that all newly engaged couples had. Well, almost all couples. Jake knew some weren’t so fortunate.

You hopped off the seat and dragged Junior and Taylor into quick hugs as Jake followed suit and stood, shaking both their hands as you introduced him. You oohed and ahhhed over the engagement ring and poked at Junior’s cheek when he blushed as Taylor recounted the story of the proposal. You handed over the card and Jake saw you curl your hands into fists behind your back as Junior opened it almost immediately.

Just as she finished reading, Taylor all but launched herself at you and Jake had to keep you upright by catching you at the hips when you started to teeter backward. And, only for a moment, Jake thought about doing this with you all the time. Thought about showing you off at parties, watching you smile, keeping you upright with a laugh on your tongue. The invisible knife twisted again as Junior caught his eye and arched a brow after glancing at his hands on your hips.

“Oh! I can’t believe it! This is so kind!” Taylor turned to Junior with a beaming smile, waving the business card like a flag, and explained that she actually followed the photographer on Instagram and loved her work, just as you’d said in the car.

Jake felt you relax in his grip at that, a relief to know your gift was well received. “I’ve made a list of all the weekends she has available for the next six weeks. She said you two would have first dibs—you just need to call her and tell her what date and time works for you.” You’d off-handedly mentioned that both Taylor and Junior were in the middle of their medical school residencies and were rarely free for more than a few hours at a time every other week.

You spoke a little longer and Jake earned a bright smile from Taylor when he said that she and Junior would probably be the photographer’s most liked post on her page—he also earned an elbow to the gut from you, too. Jake didn’t care, not when he heard you laugh.

“But we’ll let you get back to your other guests. Thanks for letting me hold you up for a little.”

Junior frowned and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “You’re never holding us up.”

“You’re always welcome,” Taylor said with another brilliant smile.

You nodded with a matching smile and mentioned that Jake had brought a bottle of champagne and Junior was the one to smile this time. “That’s my favorite bottle, man, thanks!”

Then you spun in Jake’s hold and all but shoved him backward toward your abandoned seats and the smile you gave him had his entire chest aching. “They’re so happy. Don’t they look happy?”

And he had to smile, too. “They do, Punch.”

But your eyes tracked to something over his shoulder and Jake turned to see you looking at that same group of men from earlier and you rolled your spine, straightening your posture. “I’m going to introduce you.”

“I thought you said you didn’t talk to them.”

“I don’t. Not as Naval officers, anyway. They think I’m like a very distantly related and adopted niece or something. They know me but don’t…know me, you know?”

Jake resisted the urge to roll his eyes but simply said, “no.”

“Doesn’t matter. C’mon, let me get you promoted again.” You were then a flurry of demure smiles and careful introductions that seemed to instantly endear you to the group of brass and Jake was readily folded into their conversations as you slipped away from his side with a wink and a mouthed “you owe me!” after being talked over twice—maybe they really didn’t have any clue that you were in the Navy as well. It almost made Jake want to excuse himself, too. But he knew you’d probably chew him out for that. Rooster’s ‘talk’ from the other night on the Hard Deck came ringing through his mind: “There’s another reason we call her punch. She can roll with the punches. But that doesn’t mean she should have to. If she comes to me on Monday and says anything about you ruining her night, I’ll shoot you out of the sky.”

You knew that officer promotions were always a game of politics and who you know so getting Jake on a friendly basis with men like this was invaluable. So, yes, Jake did owe you. But he was having a hard time fully investing in the ham-handed conversations and when he was halfheartedly listening to Rear Admiral Cunningham speak about his latest secretary snafu, Jake caught you moving through the crowd with Lily hot on your heels and a laugh on your tongue. He could hear it over the din of the party and he felt himself smiling despite knowing he shouldn’t in the present company. You and Lily were soon joined by Sarah and three of you danced around a little, sipping on canned sparkling waters. When Taylor and Junior joined in the impromptu dance party, he could hear your excited laughter.

Jake remembered that you sat with the Kazansky family during the funeral, holding Lily’s hand as she sobbed. He hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, but now he could see it. You were one of them, unofficially of course. An older sister to the kids. Another daughter to Sarah and Admiral Kazansky, if he was willing to bet.

You were special.

The party had continued on. The dancing you and Lily had started had somehow sprouted to most of Junior and Taylor’s friends and the living room had transformed into a dance floor. You noticed Jake stepped out onto the back porch with the group of brass and tried to tell yourself that the pride you felt was purely coincidental. That you would have introduced any of the Daggers to them and wished them the best. Really. The warmth you felt wasn’t anything other than friendly. Really. But by 10, the party was wrapping up—Lily needed to drive back to Pasadena and Junior was murmuring with a few of his friends about an “after party”—and you’d started helping Sarah clean up as people filtered out. The kids had each given you a squeeze before leaving and promised to text you when they got home.

As you tugged a trash bag around the living room and tossed the paper plates into it, you glanced up to see Jake taking a handful of half-filled champagne flutes into the kitchen. The few sentences you’d exchanged with Missus Seresin during the promotion ceremony did give you a bit of insight into Jake’s upbringing—you could see a little Jake helping in the kitchen, being told how to properly wash pans and how to keep an eye on a boiling pot under the watchful eye of his mother or older sisters.

But you weren’t supposed be thinking about that and shook it away with a grimace as you yawned. You grabbed another stack of discarded plates and pushed them into the bag with a little more force than what was necessary as Jake circled back into the living room.

Sarah stepped to your side with a tired smile of her own. “You can stay here, sweetheart. We still have your room upstairs.” She then turned to Jake with a smile. “The bed is big enough.”

You choked on your next breath and Jake patted your back as he fought a smile. “We-” you wheezed the word.

“We’re not together, but you’re kind to offer.”

Pink flooded Sarah’s cheeks and she pressed a hand over her mouth for a moment. “Oh. Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought…” She waved it away. “Either way, both of you are welcome to stay the night.”

“I think we’re actually going to head out as soon as everything’s cleaned up. Thank you again for inviting me and letting me bring a friend along.”

Sarah hummed as she tried to nudge the couch back into its usual position and watched as Jake quickly took over the task without issue before once again starting to grab the remaining flutes left by the window sill and take them to the kitchen—you heard him carefully putting them into the dishwasher. “Yes, a friend.”

Embarrassment burned and clawed at your throat and you turned away to see if there were any other plates for you to throw away. “Barely a friend.”

“Sure, sweetheart. I definitely can see where I got confused with the way you were smiling at him and the way he looks at you like you hung the stars. My mistake.”

“He doesn’t.” The words were barely more than squeaks. “And…and I don’t smile at him like anything.”

Sarah hummed, again. “Whatever you say.”

You tried not to think about Sarah’s words as you settled back into your car a few minutes later. Jake let out a sigh as he buckled in and you tried to ignore how his cologne once again filled the small space. And it was so strange that your body seemed to seize and relax at the same time because of it. Like you were fighting two separate and equal instincts.

“Thanks for coming tonight. I hope you had fun,” you said as you pulled away from the curb, waving at Sarah through the windshield.

“They certainly know how to throw a party.”

“This was tame. One time Junior threw a rager when his parents were out of town and his entire fraternity swarmed the house.” You smiled at the memory, remembering ordering a group of frat boys around at the crack of dawn to clean the house before his parents got home. Junior baked you a cake in thanks after learning you’d been the one to stall Tom and Sarah for a few extra hours by suggesting they stop for brunch on their way back. Lily had done the same after you’d helped her get all the bubbles out of the hot tub after she and her friends had filled it with something you’d rather not mention.

Jake was quiet for a moment as you turned down the street, heading toward the highway. “How do you know them? I mean, you seem pretty close.”

Your tongue pressed against your cheek as you thought about how to phrase your answer. Had to be careful. Had to make sure you didn’t reveal something you shouldn’t. “Bradley introduced us.” There, that was vague enough. “Admiral Kazansky was good to me. His family looked after me during a really weird time in my life and I tried to repay that kindness, in any way I could. After all, I did have some experience with what they needed.” You sighed and scraped the edge of your thumbnail against your lip. You’d been the one to deal with the home care nurses when Sarah needed a break. You knew a few ways to help Tom be comfortable through his treatments and he seemed to be grateful that he didn’t need to ask for them, keeping a little bit of his pride. You’d been so hopeful when he’d gone into remission but tried to keep it together when it had come back. You were happy to play the part of stalwart supporter when the prognosis came back grim. “They’re good people.”

Your stomach churned when you thought of why you’d met the Kazansky family but you wouldn’t trade it for the world. But you changed the subject, asking about the surely-dull conversations Jake had with the brass as you merged onto the highway.

“…if I ever get that boring, you have my permission to smack me,” he finished with a grimace.

“You’d probably like that too much. You’re just going to have to be boring and live with the consequences.” Proving your point, Jake smiled when you smacked his hand away from your radio again. There was no way you were changing the station when David Bowie was singing. Absolutely not. And then when “Rhiannon” came on next, you made sure to crank the volume as Jake pretended to not know the words.

You were having a great time. Really. And it was a little terrifying how easily he made you laugh when he finally gave in and started to croon (a little off key) alongside your pitchy warbling. But it petered out as Jake looked back with a squint but turned forward with a frown. When he turned to look back again you turned down the radio with a frown of your own and glanced in your rear view mirror. “What is it?”

“The car behind you keeps speeding up and slowing down.”

While keeping an eye on the traffic in front of you, you looked at the car Jake pointed out and your stomach sunk to your feet as you watched it drive under the next streetlight.

It was a black ‘67 Dodge Charger with a distinctive sword charm hanging from the rear view mirror.

You knew that car. You knew that charm.

And despite the shadows of the car hiding the driver’s face, you knew who was behind the wheel.

And just as that realization dawned on you, the charger’s brights flashed and you winced as the lights flooded your car.

“What is this guy’s problem?” Jake grumbled, turning back around to stare.

“I…” What could you possibly say? You couldn’t tell Jake. Wouldn’t. Not now. Not ever. But it didn’t matter because the next time you glanced in the rear view you realized the charger was about to ram into the back of your car. You stomped on the gas and the engine roared as you tried to avoid the collision.

But he kept coming.

Your heart clawed its way up behind your teeth as you merged into the next lane over, earning an angry honk from a Jeep for not using your turn signal, and the charger sped past and you almost thought you were in the clear but then he was merging too, slamming on his brakes and you had to swerve back into the other lane to avoid crashing into his trunk.

“Jesus!” Jake yelled.

“I-I’m sorry!” The words were torn from your throat but you doubted Jake heard them over the barrages of angry honks and the thundering of your car’s engine, nearly drowned out by the growl of the charger’s overpowered mechanics.

The charger moved, keeping pace with your car and you were only given a warning in the form of Jake yelling before you realized that the car was coming into your lane. You yanked the wheel, nearly hitting the dividing wall as you avoided it and pressed the accelerator to the floor. You weaved around two cars, earning more honks as you used the shoulder to gain distance, and then noticed the next exit was only half a mile away. You needed to get off the highway.

“Fuck!”

The charger followed you onto the shoulder and you knew you had to move. Now or never. You moved across the highway and nearly clipped the barrier as you shot onto the off-ramp, a cacophony of squealing brakes and horns providing a terrible soundtrack to your horrendous driving. But it worked. You saw the charger try to get to the exit, too, and miss. He had to drive on. Away from you.

You hardly remember driving the rest of the way back to the Hard Deck in silence, your heart still stuck behind your teeth. Every few seconds, you’d check your rear view mirror but you didn’t see that car again. When you parked in the Hard Deck’s lot, you finally peeled your hands away from the steering wheel and your fingers shook and ached.

“What the fuck was that?” Jake asked after a stretch of silence.

You tried to suck in a breath and only managed to make your lungs burn. You needed to calm down. Needed it. Needed… “I-I have to call Bradley,” you muttered, shaking hand scrambling through the contents of your purse to grab at your phone. “I have to-”

“What’s Bradshaw going to do? He’s out in the desert with Mav. I’m right here, Punch. Tell me.”

But you only shook your head and had your phone dialing Bradley’s number before it even reached your ear. But it rang. And rang. And rang.

“This is Bradshaw. Can’t come to the phone right now-”

Fuck. You killed the call with an unsteady breath and none too gently shoved your phone back into your purse before pressing your nails into your thighs, needing to feel something other than your racing heart. Tiny pinpricks of pain zipped up your leg and you let your head fall back against the headrest before uncurling your hands. This was better. This was okay. You’d made it. For now, you were okay. “I…need a drink.”

“Yeah, I bet you do.”

You turned to the side and felt just a smidge of mortification wash over you as you realized Jake was still sitting there, waiting for you. Fuck. “I’ll get you one, too.” Then you were up and out of your car, hitting the lock button four times just to make sure, and all but stomping into the Hard Deck with Jake on your heels.

It was either a blessing or a curse that none of the other Daggers were at the bar tonight as Jake followed you up to the mostly un-busy bar and rattled off your usual order. “And please get Jake whatever he wants,” you said, handing over your card to Jimmy.

Jake slipped into the barstool at your side and studied you for a moment. It was almost like you hadn’t nearly crashed your car three times or run off the road by a charger with a vendetta. If he didn’t know you better—and Jake tried to ignore that it was becoming clearer by the day that maybe he didn’t know you as well as he thought—he might think you were just out for a nightcap. But the vacancy of your expression was too…careful. Too practiced. It looked like there was a concentrated effort to keep your brow from pinching.

“You wanna tell me what that was back there?” He asked, almost tentative. He just…wanted to make sure you were okay, but he wanted answers, too. The way you were reacting wasn’t normal. The complete shut down of your previous panic wasn’t right.

Your next breath was slow, measured. “I must’ve cut him off or something. Road rage is a hell of a thing.”

Jake bit back the disbelieving comment and thanked Jimmy as he set the drinks down with a small smile and handed back your card. Fine. “So you needed to call Rooster after all that but can’t tell me what you really think happened?” Jake had seen all the close contact between you and Rooster. He’d seen how you’d whisper in the other man’s ear. He had seen how Rooster was always ready for you with a hug or an arm around your shoulder. And no, Jake didn’t hate that. Didn’t hate that you seemed to trust Rooster more than him and he had been the one to be in the car with you tonight. “Is he your boyfriend or something? Fuck buddy?”

Your unamused stare over the edge of your glass had Jake sitting a little straighter. “He’s not my type,” you said with a shrug before downing the rest of the small drink.

“You sure? ‘Cause it sure as hell seems like-”

Your glass hitting the bar top stifled any other words Jake might have said. “Look, I’ve been trying for eighteen months to get Bradley to admit he’s in love with redacted.” You flagged down Jimmy and asked for a refill with an easy smile that evaporated the second you looked back at Jake. Your arched eyebrow had his stomach clenching for several different reasons he didn’t have the time to address. “Any other slightly invasive questions you want to ask? Want to know my social security number? What color of underwear I’m wearing?”

Jake could feel the tips of his ears burning. You were relentless. But good. At least he was getting some sort of reaction out of you. “Those are two wildly different questions, you know.”

“I do know. So, hurry up and ask. I’m giving you until my drink arrives.”

He had a million more questions but he really did need a straight answer. He could be relentless, too. But first: “You literally said redacted.”

“So smart, Ken! Look at you go!”

“Who is redacted?”

The next smile you gave him was all teeth and your tone was as condescending as Cyclone on a bad day, “well, now, Ken, when someone says ‘redacted,’ it means-”

Jake’s hand pressed over your mouth, and he sighed as he felt you frown beneath his palm. Fine. He could switch tactics. He could get one real answer out of you tonight. “You can’t blame me for thinking that something else is going on. Do you love him?”

You peeled his hand away from your face as your new drink was quickly placed in front of you and you drained it as if you needed it to deal with him. “You know, there is a Greek word,Philia. It’s one of the different types of love from Greek Philosophy-”

“Punch-”

“And it’s a brotherly love. But since I know you won’t take that as an answer, no. I don’t love him in the way you’re insinuating. And he doesn’t love me that way, either.” The look in your eyes reminded Jake of someone having just come down after g-loc as your fingernail tapped against the glass’ base. Click. Click. Click. “Bradley has seen me at my lowest. Bob, too. Sometimes I think they only keep me around so I don't do something stupid.” Your mouth rolled to the side as the tapping stopped and you pushed the glass away before reaching for your purse.

“That’s not true-”

“Look, tonight has been weird. Okay? Can’t deny that. I don’t even know why I’m telling you any of this.” You shook your head as you pulled out a few bills for a tip and the second drink and set them under your empty glass. And you wouldn’t look at him. Wouldn’t even turn toward him again. Jake’s hands curled into fists at his sides to fight the urge to reach out to you, to try to let you know that he would do it all again. All of it. “Thank you for coming with me tonight. I owe you.” And then you turned and left.

Driving home shouldn’t be a problem, right? You just needed to put the key in the ignition, shift into drive, and go home. But you just couldn’t move. Couldn’t pull your eyes away from the dark dashboard.

He had found you while you were on the road. He had tried to crash your car. He had tried to run you off the road. He had tried to kill you.

While Jake was in the car with you.

Tears burned your eyes and you limply let them fall, your hands not moving from your lap. A familiar, dull ringing settled over your ears and you slumped further into your seat, only to feel your entire body go rigid as you heard someone stepping up to your car, sand sliding beneath their shoes on the pavement.

You swung around as the door opened, ready to fight, ready to scream, but felt yourself deflate as Jake leaned down, shoving his way into the car to haul you closer, warm, muscular arms wrapping around you in a tight hug. And that just about broke you. The first sob was ripped out of your throat and the next followed in rapid succession as you grasped loosely at the front of his shirt. The scent of his expensive cologne was almost calming. Almost comforting.

His hands moved up and down, up and down, along your spine and you vaguely heard him whispering something to you. Something like, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” But it was barely more than white noise to your ears as your body shook. But soon you were pulling back, eyes bleary and itchy. God. You were a mess. There was an apology on the tip of your tongue that died as soon as Jake’s large hand gently, carefully cupped your cheek and his calloused thumb swiped against the delicate half moon of skin beneath your eye.

“Let me drive you home.”

Your chin wobbled with new tears and a fresh wave of self-loathing washed over you but you still nodded. It was a moment of weakness. A moment you were sure you’d regret but you just needed help. Just a little. Just for now. But still, you let Jake help you over the center console and into the passenger seat. Before you had the chance to move, Jake reached over and buckled you in and moved to do the same for himself before he frowned, looking at something on the hood of your car. He stepped out and grabbed something from underneath your windshield wiper.

You frowned as he sat back down. “What is it?”

But Jake didn’t answer, mouth set in a thin line and eyes trained on the thing in his grasp.

Leaning over, your heart almost stopped. It was a Polaroid of you and Jake at the engagement party. It was obviously shot through the window, a glare taking up half the photo. But still, anyone who looked at the picture would see you and Jake, his hands on your hips and smiles on your faces.

Did you have fun at the party? He doesn’t look like your type

“Jake, I…” Your throat was scratchy. Arid.

“What does this mean, Punch?”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think! I’d love to hear your theories. Also, as an aside, I do not keep a tag list. I’m sorry!

#Jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #Hangman x reader #jake hangman x reader #tgm #top gun maverick #female reader

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imtooscaredforthis · 11 months ago

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Entrapment

Chapter Twenty Six: Sore Loser

Mentions of: Trauma, Sleep Deprivation, Paranoia, Neurosis, Stalking, and angst

A/N: Mid semester and dying…pray for me y’all…I hope you enjoy!

Tags: @elentiyaiswriting @dead-bxxxtch-walking @mama-miya @vandeaad @the-fandoms-georgie

You showered three times over the next morning. You didn’t care how the hot water burned your new cuts, or how your skin was all pruned, you washed and washed until you felt clean, on the outside at least.

You couldn’t look at yourself in the mirror after. Couldn’t see the cuts he left on you. Especially not the heart-shaped carving he left on your hip. You felt so disgusted with yourself for letting him do that..for letting him defile you…and even more disgusted with the small part of yourself that enjoyed it. But you knew that wasn’t your common sense or anything, it was just your body’s reaction.

You hated what he did to you that night. You hated him. And you hated yourself for letting it happen.

What made it worse was that he had all this control over you. He could use you whenever he wanted. The moment you said no, the moment you fought back, he’d kill everyone you cared about. You wouldn’t be surprised if he somehow found out where your family lived and threatened them too.

You felt a shiver go down your spine at that thought, panic and fear surging through you. You should call your mother and check up on them, but Ghostface could be listening, and the last thing you wanted was to draw attention to them. They’re safe and that’s all that matters.

Days dragged by and you couldn’t help but wonder if and when he was going to play another one of his sick games. If he was going to cut you up or use you like some fucked up sex toy. It was quiet, and while you were slightly relieved with the peace, you took advantage of it in any way you could.

—

You poor thing. Ever since that night, he played with you, you’ve changed. You have been changing, ever since this all started, but that night really changed you.

You don’t eat as much as you used to and don’t sleep as well, the dark circles hanging heavily under your eyes. You’ve even started to change your clothing, more pants and long-sleeved button-ups, hiding yourself. Protecting yourself.

You’ve become much less social and even avoid your friends, hardly making small talk or any conversation whatsoever, focusing on work instead. You’re starting to shut people out, to put up walls. You think you’re protecting them, but in reality, it’s Danny’s way of pushing you to isolate yourself. So either way, you’ll have no one left.

You haven’t given up, though. Danny’s not sure you ever will. No matter how much he breaks you, no matter how much he hurts you, you’ll bounce back even stronger than before.

You’re a fighter, a survivor. And it’s something he loves about you.

He watched as you worked for hours and hours at the office where you feel safe trying to analyze every scrap of information you can find, trying to piece together the puzzle of his identity, those little cogs turning in your brain until you got frustrated and gave up for the night and went home.

You don’t even feel safe in your apartment, spending most nights in your car. But you should know that you’re not safe anywhere…It doesn’t matter because like it or not, you always have to go back to your apartment, be it for a change of clothes or something else, you always come back. And wherever you go, he follows like a shadow..like a predator, watching and waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

—

You stretched your sore muscles, slipping off your jacket and climbing out from the backseat where you once had been sleeping. The windshield was all fogged up from the typical Florida humidity, and you wiped it away to see a light pink sky, the sun rising.

You had plenty of time before work and couldn’t help but wonder if you should head into your apartment for some clothes or go back to sleep for a little longer. But your train of thought completely stopped when you spotted something on your dashboard.

It was a Polaroid. You don’t remember bringing any pictures into your car, besides one of your family that you kept stashed in your glove compartment.

Your hands trembled as they clutched the photo. It was from that night, a look of euphoria on your face, and a gloved hand around your throat, Ghostface’s mask resting on your shoulder.

On the back, written in bold black Sharpie read the words “MISS YOU” with a little heart symbol. Your heart was pounding, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You almost screamed when your fingers brushed up against some foreign sticky substance on one of the corners you held.

You rubbed your hand against the seat, ridding yourself of the fluids, before tearing the Polaroid up into tiny pieces and throwing it out in the trash.

—

You still went to work at that. You refused to let him win, and staying at home would only make you feel more vulnerable. It was getting to the point that here was the only place that you felt safe.

“Hey, want to get drinks? Everyone’s going out and I thought it might be fun.” Jed offered, making you look up from your computer. Your coworkers were leaving, making you realize that it was closing time already. You shot him down almost instantly. “No thanks, I have to work late.”

“Seriously? On a Friday? C’mon, it’ll be fun.” Rachel pressed you. You shook your head once again. “Maybe another time.”

With that, she shrugged her shoulders and left, dropping it. But Jed didn’t. He lingered by watching as you continued to work, while you were hardly paying attention to him your eyes glued to your monitor.

“______, can we talk?” With a sigh, you turned away from the monitor, facing him. You thought you made it obvious that you weren’t in a talkative mood today.

“I’m just worried about you. You haven’t been yourself lately. You’ve been distant and much more focused on work. Not that it’s a bad thing, but I know it can take a toll-”

“Oh really, Jed? Can it really take a toll? I never knew that writing about an evil fucking psychopath serial killer could possibly take a toll. You’re so worried about me, but maybe you should be worried about yourself. In fact, you hardly seem to care about the fucked up things he’s done. Sometimes with the way you talk about him, I think you like doing this. I think you like the publicity and money you make off of him..Just go have your stupid drinks and leave me alone.”

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itsclydebitches · 2 years ago

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The Bumbleby scene feels too random at this point. It’s like they literally picked the scene out of a hat to “confirm” it. As you mentioned, the don’t even hold hands. You’re telling me that’s more intimate than the freaking cheek holding head touched in V8? Wait a minute, didn’t everyone think BB started back in V6 after they killed Adam? What the fuck is even going on anymore?!

People have always shipped it, but yeah, 'canonizing' them started post-Volume 3 and ramped up into 'Oh damn I think they're really gonna do it!' territory in Volume 6. We've got:

Yang grappling with Blake leaving post-Beacon. (She's not, for example, similarly concerned that Weiss 'abandoned' her too. Yang shouldn't have any idea that Weiss was essentially kidnapped by her dad)

Tender and then rejected hand-holding in the shed at the farm

Agreed upon hand-holding while fighting Adam which, yeah, a lot of people read as the moment they 'solved' their relationship troubles, seguing into something new. Hand-holding is often used in RWBY to indicate a romantic relationship, the only problem with using this as a confirmation is that all our other examples also have something more overt: Saphron and Terra are married, Nora kisses Ren/he says "I love you," etc.

Adam's "What do you see in her?" line. Although, this one is severely complicated by a contradiction in the fandom. Many fans claim this implies that Adam recognizes Blake's interest in Yang precisely because she was once interested in him - how can you like her over me? That's compounded by his motivations changing from being politically focused to what feels like stalking and hunting down an ex. However, these fans don't want to admit to the other implications that Blake and Adam were an item due to a lot of anti-men sentiments, biphobia, gold star lesbian nonsense, and the like. Basically, some fans want to use Adam's potential relationship with Blake as proof that she's in a relationship with Yang now, but not actually admit that they ever had that relationship because ew, how could perfect Blake like a male villain? There's also some of that with Sun: fans using Blake's interactions with him to support an interest in Yang ('She has a type!'), but simultaneously denying that blacksun was ever a possibility because that supposedly (not actually) threatens the sanctity of her One True Sapphic Love.

Forehead touch after Adam dies + a promise to never leave

More hand-holding in the airship

Blushing over Yang complimenting her haircut

Having fun pre-outing in Atlas that kinda implies it might be a date, but no one actually establishes it as a date and everyone is going out together, so...

Taking silly pictures together when they get their licenses

Nora's comments to Ren about how they're likely more than friends

Yang being worried about Blake even though she fought with Ruby

Yang tenderly cupping Blake's cheek when they're reunited

Blake loosing it when Yang "dies"

Tackle-hug when everyone else gets...uh, a knee touch?

Blake being flirty, leaning in, finger brush

Weiss' "It's about time" comment

I've probably missed some stuff, but the point is that it's been four years (or even six years depending on how far back you're willing to go) and we're still in this flirty, teasing, ambiguous stage where, as demonstrated above, reading a romantic relationship often requires making a lot of assumptions that rely on having a lot of trust in your writers. I don't know if I'd call all this random, but it is a holding pattern. They blush, hold hands, and others vaguely comment on what they might be. But unlike our straight couples, we're not given anything solid to canonize them with.

I mean, even if you're a fan who believes that these little breadcrumbs are enough to prove the love between them (and here I'm addressing the fandom at large, not you specifically, Happygaynoises2) we get how the queer couples aren't given equal treatment, right? Pyrrha kissed Jaune. Nora kissed Ren. Ren said "I love you." Jaune asked Weiss to the dance. Weiss blatantly chases after Neptune. Ozpin marries and has kids with Salem. Everyone but Adrian has married, straight parents.

Compare that to our queer rep (with May being an exception due to her gender) and it's pretty obvious that this glacial "slow burn" has less to do with the needs of the story and more about RT hesitating to make two of the main girls unambiguously queer. After all, if most of your fans are happy with those breadcrumbs and a canonical relationship would drive away the homophobes... why not just toe the line to keep both groups around, giving you more money?

That's a form of queerbaiting and it's why so many of us remain nervous. I seriously hope given what we've seen so far that this will FINALLY be the Volume when we can set the 'Will they, won't they?' to rest. But who can actually say.

#rwde #rwby #mymetas

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maedhrosisbae · 10 months ago

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Here’s some songs that I have been collecting over the years like a hobgoblin that reminded me of the Silmarillion. (These were all mostly a product of daydreaming about showing these ppl my music and how they would react)

Blood on my name (The Brothers Bright)- Feanorians

Dancing without music (BRDGS)- Maeglin. He’s willing to do anything for Idril, but she won’t love him back, but he can’t let go. (I’m not saying I agree with him, this just sounds like his POV)

Trying my best (Anson Seabra)- Legit every silm character, especially Finarfin and Elrond

Hall of Fame (The Script)- Fingon, Finrod, Feanor, Fingolfin, All Feanorians, Galadriel

Centuries (Fall Out Boy)- Feanor, Feanorians, Fingon, Galadriel, Morgoth, Mairon. These people are HUGE and they were remembered for centuries. They fought tooth and Nail and it paid off.

See you Again (Wiz khalifa, Charlie Puth)- Everyone.

Demons (Imagine Dragons)- Maedhros, Maglor, Glorfindel.

Good example (with Andy Grammer)- Finwe, Fingolfin, Finarfin, Curufin, Miriel, Maedhros, Fingon, Turgon, Elrond, Finrod. They all are trying so hard to be a good example to their families, troops, and people, even if they lost their way and grew selfish. When it started, they wanted to the best for the people around them. Ultimately, most die, but they die hoping they made a good example to those they love.

Eyes on fire (Blue Foundation)- Sauron, Feanor. This is just a very threatening song and gives the vibes of a wild beast stalking you through the forest about to pounce. Like, they have forgotten how to be kind and loving, and now it’s this wild, ravenous, greedy beast hell bent on one purpose.

7 Years Old (Lukas Graham)- Feanorians, Fingon, most of the ppl tbh. They all were young and innocent in Valinor, but now they’re older and have lost all innocence. They just want the good old days back.

Achilles Come Down (Gang of Youths)- Maedhros. He has two voices warring with each other. One is Maglor and Fingon, and the other is his own. Maglor and Fingon are trying to talk him off the edge, but his voice tells him to jump, which he ultimately does,

I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE (Maneskin)- Sauron, Celegorm. They’re just kinky guys, what can I say?!?

Burn/First Burn (Hamilton)- Nerdanel to Feanor the night he leaves. Especially the line in First Burn “When will you learn that they are your legacy, we are your legacy?”

Bang! (AJR)- idk, just have the vibes of everything going to hell in a hand basket, but still trying bc why not

Painter (Aimee Carty)- one of the Feanorians, idk. Like maybe one of the twins bc a lot of the others already have recognizable crafts, or maybe Maedhros, but I think he likes to read more. They are so scared to show the world their true selves and feel as if they have to put on a face that the world expects them to have. They’re scared to show their true self.

#most of these are sad but are we surprised?#this surprisingly enough took like 3 years #silm headcanons #silmarillion

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sicks-posts · 2 years ago

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Yandere Alphabet

Princess Katherine

For Empire Smp S2

Hello everyone!

I am a little bit nervous because it's my first time doing this, I hope this goes well! If there's something wrong or Does not make sense! Tell me please I don't want to make you confused or uncomfortable.

-Esther

⚠️Waring ⚠️

Unhealthy relationships

gas lighting

yandere behavior

threatening

Spoilers if you haven't seen s2

Possessiveness

Overprotective

(If I miss anything please let me know)

A=Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Katherine is such a sweet person! I see her giving you a lot of affection making you outfits and getting you gifts.

She does allow you to go outside with her (she might put handcuffs on you) but she does not let you go outside during the night time where monsters come out.

Katherine it's not really intense with giving you affection, For example If you want some space she will let you have some space after all she loves you she wants to make you feel comfortable around her.

"I hope you like the outfit I gave you looks really nice on you."

B=Blood How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Well monster she will literally rip off all their limbs and rip off their eyes from their sockets.

But as for people she might give him a little threat nothing too major.

She's a gentle person so I don't see her being a really see her as really aggressive to other people.

But as for monster, She smash their head against a wall over and over again until they bleeding. ❤️

"Hey y/n! I heard a group of zombies attacked you so I was wondering if I could be your bodyguard to protect you."

C=Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Katherine will never mock you or even hurt you.

You're special to her and she can't let anyone or herself hurt you or even touch you so she's really careful with you. ☺️

"I am sorry for doing this but I had no choice I just love you way too much."

D=Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

She might take the right to let you outside in the night.

She doesn't want you to get hurt so please understand that.

"I'm sorry I can't let you go outside it's too dangerous out there."

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

(I don't understand this one! sorry 🥲)

Katherine is overprotective.

She will do anything for you! She stalks you and some times she watches you when you're sleeping.

Katherine not being a creep!

She just protecting you from harm.

"I love you so much I'll protect you from any harm I promise."

F=Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

She will feel sad and feel betrayed.

Why are you acting like this way.

She's protecting you.

She will lock you up for a while and give use some food and water for you.

she's really sorry to lock you.

"I'm sorry for locking you up but I don't want myself to hurt you."

G=Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

This is not a game to her!!

She doesn't like it when you escape from her! Makes her feel like she did something wrong to make you feel scary around her.

She might gaslighting you to stay with her. ☺️

"Can you stop running away from me, I feel like you just want me to be sad forever."

H=Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Be thankful that you have no bad experience against Katherine. 😘

"Please! I don't want to hurt you."

I=Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Living in the castle or becoming monster slayers together. ( but she might not like being monster slayers together because she's worrying you might get hurt.)

"When I finish building my castle and village, we will become the world's best couple."

J=Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

No she doesn't last show or do anything but when she can't take anymore she goes up to you and talks about her being jealous of you being with someone else

who isn't her.

"Hey I seen you spending time with the other empires, Are you hanging out with the other empires? can you hang out with me at least?"

K=Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Like I said she will give you anything you want she just love to give you free outfits.

(but don't tell the other empires about giving you free outfits.)

She will give you some space if she wants some space.

She loves you very much.❤️

"I hope you like this gift, it's a diamond heart you can hang it on a item frame."

L=Love Letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

(Sorry I don't understand this one that much!)

She acts really soft around you. She's a little bit flustered and sometimes stutters bit.

She will give you gifts and make some outfits with for you.

You make her heart explode with love. ❤️

"H-hey, I heard about you from the other E-empires, My name is K-katherine, what's your name."

M=Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

She acts like how she acts.

A little possessive but still her.

hold your hand to make sure that you're clearly hers.

"can you hold my hand? my hands are a little bit cold."

N=Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

She would lock you up for a while I come back with some food and water.

She will come for you and apologize saying that she didn't have a choice.

Katherine will not doing anything to harm you at all.

"I'm sorry for locking you up, I didn't mean to, I just wanted you to learn a lesson not to escape for me again."

O=Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Going outside.

You're especially not allowed to go outside at midnight.

It's too dangerous for you.

Duh.🙄

"You are not allowed to go outside unless I'm going with you."

P=Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

She has patience.

She would never rush anything or make you uncomfortable.

she will wait until you are ready.

"If you want me to leave I will leave you alone."

Q=Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

If you leave, she will gaslight you to stay with her or she was knock you out and make sure you never escape again.

If you successfully escape should go after you hoping that you did not tell the other empires what she did!

When she finds you she will knock you out and take you to her home, Make sure you never escape her again.

And if you die she would not be the same without you her life is gray and cold. Might not have the motivation to build her castle again.

She need you

"Why did you leave me, I don't want to lose you like how I lose my castle and my village."

R=Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Katherine will feel guilty about kidnapping you but she is doing for your safely.

"I'm sorry, For kidnapping I just did it for you, for yourself."

S=Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)

I'm not sure

I feel like it will be childhood or curiosity, loneliness

乁⁠(⁠ ⁠•⁠_⁠•⁠ ⁠)⁠ㄏ

T=Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

If you scream she would try to calm you down she doesn't want you to scream and makes her think that you are afraid of her.

If you ever cry she will be there, she'll let you cry on her shoulder or her chest she doesn't care if her clothes get wet she does not want you to be sad.

And also please do not I feel yourself from her, She will be really worried about you she'll give you food and water, anything you need to not isolateyourself again.

"Please tell me what's wrong!"

U=Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

(I really don't know what's a classic yandere is so sorry if it's bad 😥)

Katherine will give you privacy, Some yandere's don't give their loved ones privacy but as for Katherine she will.

"Do you want me to leave to give you some space "

V=Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

If you act kind around her or show any affection, she might lose her guard and think you're in love with her that's a good way to escape from her.

"You are such a nice person, my love."

W=Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

No she would never hurt you.

o⁠(⁠(⁠*⁠^⁠▽⁠^⁠*⁠)⁠)⁠o

"Why are you so scared of me, I don't even hurt you."

X=Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

I feel like she definitely has a shrine of you.

Y=Yarn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Maybe about 3 weeks.

"Don't you see you're all mine, I promise I will never hurt you."

Z=Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

I'm sorry

if it's really bad I'm not good with the stuff

I'm kind of nervous please let me know if something's wrong

thank you

-Esther

#female yandere #empries smp #yandere empire smp #yandere alphabet #Yandere Katherine

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whumppmuhw · 1 year ago

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Whumptober Day 25: "Why didn't you save me?," stalked*

Part of my Friends To An End story (masterlist)

tw: scars, trauma, stalking, threatened with a gun, long post

*alternative prompt

used this name generator to come up with the name of the investigation unit

Sequel to day 19! I know there's a time jump but bear with me I promise this fic makes sense, plus I might return to this after Whumptober's over to fill in the details along the way

...

Whumpee took a deep breath and opened the door to the main office of the WPIU, the Wessex Private Investigation Unit. She walked to the front desk and greeted the receptionist coldly.

"I need to speak with Ms. Caretaker." She was almost scowling at him, and he decided to forego greeting her with his usual small talk.

"Give me a minute, and then I'll let her know. You can have a seat."

Whumpee sat down on a thinly cushioned chair. She tugged on the sleeves of her blazer and pencil skirt, trying to hide as much skin as possible. Though I don't know why, she thought, he and everyone else here saw me in all my scarred glory back at Whumper's place. I wonder if he even recognizes me.

She looked around the room. The walls were painted a pale blue, bearing photographs and certifications of the people who worked there. There was an overwhelming smell of Febreze, accompanied by noxious undertones of hand sanitizer. The dark wood that made up the receptionist's desk and the frame of her chair and those around it clashed with the room's look too much for Whumpee's liking.

She waited, listening to the receptionist clacking away at his keyboard, then him picking up a phone and talking into it, asking Caretaker if she was free, there's a woman here to see you.

He hung up a moment later. "Ma'am, she'll be with you soon."

A minute later, Caretaker walked in through a different door than the one Whumpee had used. She was wearing a knee-length, form fitting dress and denim jacket. She looked at Whumpee and instantly recognized her, but didn't show it.

"Come on back, let's chat."

Whumpee followed her through the door she had just entered from, down a short hallway and into an office. The plaque on the desk was engraved with Caretaker's name, and both women took their respective seats with juxtaposition to the desk.

"Your name is..." Caretaker began.

"Whumpee. You've seen me before, though I don't know if you remember."

"Oh, I remember, honey." Caretaker placed both elbows on her desk, chin resting on her clutched hands. "You were in that basement, with Mr. Whumper."

"Yes, though that was months ago, now. I'm...free," Caretaker noticed her hesitation in using that word. "...and I want to put it behind me."

"What do you mean by 'free?' Why did you want to talk to me today?" She sat back, picking up a pen and pad of paper, ready to take notes.

Whumpee sighed. "I assume you gave up on the Whumper case-"

Caretaker butted in. "We didn't give up. We would never give up, especially since we knew you were there. Someone, we think it was Whumper, stole all of our physical and digital files of the case and destroyed any leads we had. He also put cameras and movement sensors around the property, keeping us out."

Whumpee felt the bad memories coming back to her, and she huffed as she tried to push them away.

"I know that's not what you wanted to hear,"

Whumpee nodded, avoiding eye contact.

"...but it's the reality of the situation. I'm glad to see you here, out of that horrendous place."

"Why didn't you save me?" It was barely louder than a whisper, and Caretaker had to strain to hear it.

"Come again?"

"I said, why didn't you save me?!" Whumpee was loud and frustrated, and she felt like she was back in her cell on that night, watching Caretaker and her team walk away from her for the first and last time. She thought of the weeks that came after, time spent trapped with Whumper that could have been avoided, and how she had fought and struggled to get free.

"Whumpee, please, calm down. I know you're feeling a lot right now, but we need to work on why you came here."

Whumpee wiped her teary eyes and tried to calm herself down. "O-okay. Sorry, I'm just dealing with a lot." Her voice wavered.

"No need to apologize. You've been through one hell of a time, and I'm really sorry for any of it I caused." Her voice was genuine, and Whumpee relaxed a little. She took a deep breath before speaking.

"Right. Um, I wanted to come to you guys because of something with Whumper." She shook off her bad emotions and tried to sound professional. "I figured you could help me out since you might still have some information on Whumper, um... But you said all of the files are gone, right?"

"Right, but that doesn't stop us from making new ones. Continue," Caretaker stated.

"Okay, so, Whumper...is stalking me. I was able to escape and get far away back to my own apartment, but at first there was a man who would stand in the doorway and stare into my window."

She paused to let Caretaker write everything down.

"Then...then I kept my blinds shut all the time and got a curtain to put over the window, but when I got home at night he would always be there, in the parking lot. I tried to ignore him, but last night he grabbed my arm and talked to me, and I heard his voice and looked at him and knew it was Whumper."

Whumpee's eyes went out of focus and she started breathing heavily. "I wanted to scream, but he put his hand over my mouth and told me not to, and I was scared and I didn't scream, and- and he pulled out a gun and told me not to tell anyone. B-but I'm here, and he doesn't know, and I'm hoping you could help me, please..." Her voice trailed off.

Caretaker finished writing and set the clipboard down. "Oh, honey," she began as Whumpee started crying. "I'm so sorry to hear that. Later, I have some more questions for you about it, but for now, let's find you a safe place to stay tonight."

Whumpee nodded her head.

Caretaker booted up her computer and started searching for local hotels. They didn't have great reviews, which only testified of the awful area they were in. Whumpee caught her frowning at the screen and asked, "What's the matter?"

"I can't seem to find any good hotels we could put you in." She looked thoughtful, and an idea came to her. "If you'd like, you could stay with me for a bit while we work this case out. I don't live with anyone, and I have a guest room ready. I understand if you don't, though, and we can find you somewhere else."

Whumpee smiled. "That sounds great, honestly."

"Alright, then. Is there anything you need from your apartment? I need to stay here until my shift is over, but I can have someone accompany you there and then back here."

"Yeah, I'll just need to pack a few things. It shouldn't take long."

"Okay. Once you get back here, if we have time I'll ask you a few more questions, then we'll head to my place. Sound good?"

"Yep!" Whumpee stood up to leave, but Caretaker stopped her.

"Oh, and Whumpee, I hope we can start over. From everything that happened before."

"Oh, yeah. The past is behind us." Whumpee held out her hand, and Caretaker shook it.

"Good. Let's start over then. Also, I'll have Marcus go with you, he'll meet you out front."

Whumpee left Caretaker's office feeling much better than when she walked in. She was never one to hold grudges, and she hoped that the WPIU would actually be able to help her this time. Caretaker seemed genuinely nice when she wasn't delivering bad news, and Whumpee hoped that they would get along.

By the time she was in the main office, a tall, burly man with short curly locks and the beginnings of a beard was there to greet her. He introduced himself as Marcus, and together the pair walked out, ready to give Whumpee a new start to life.

#mine #ailesswhumptober2023 #whumptober #whump #why didn't you save me?#scars #trauma tw #stalking tw #gun threat tw #long post #ftae

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nightwolf14292 · 2 months ago

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I understand this view point!

Personally I've always thought of Tim in that way because with Dick, Bruce tried to shield him from his work but he asked to be Robin (and up until he Two-Face incident he truly enjoyed it) when he found out that Bruce was Batman, same with Jason (who also enjoyed it despite being more violent, what with the whole 'Robin gives me magic' thing) , and Damian fought for the role (though I do agree he's the most similar to Tim in the lack of choice aspect, he does seem to enjoy being Robin though from what I've read).

Tim definitely was excited about the prospect of being Robin, since Batman was one of his heroes, but I did always get the feeling that that childish wonder had worn off pretty quickly when he was faced with a Bruce that was double traumatized from Jason's death. Yeah Tim first went into it thinking "Wow, this is one of my heroes! I can help him out and save Gotham just like him!" But I think over time it became more of a codependent relationship, with Bruce projecting Jason's (and Dick's since they weren't on good terms at the time) image onto Tim to cope, and Tim loving Bruce because he was neglected by his parents and got Bruce's attention by being Robin.

I always visualized him becoming Robin as like a half-choice thing. Because on one hand yes, he did technically have the choice to become Robin, but he felt like he had to because he was stalking Bruce, and therefore he was the only one seeing that Bruce was starting to go off the deep end. He had it fully in his mind that Bruce needed a Robin, and since Dick wouldn't become Robin again, he was the only one who fill the Robin role without threatening Batman's identity. So he felt like he had some sort of responsibility.

And that's also why I don't think he had as much of a choice to get out either, because even after that initial excitement had worn off he could completely see how much Bruce needed a Robin to balance him out, and it probably would've affected him even more negatively had he left. But I do think the fact that after his parent's death he made up a fake uncle purely to keep from getting adopted by Bruce sort of showed how he didn't necessarily want to stick around at the time (Though I suppose you could also chalk that up to him just not wanting another father figure at that moment)

Really I do compare it to the situation with Dick, mainly because they were similar.

Bruce fired Dick as Robin after he kept getting hurt, and Dick went out soul searching and, with Superman as a guide, decided that he loved helping people and chose to take up a new title.

Dick fired Tim as Robin after he decided Damian would make a better sidekick (because he thought of Tim as more of an equal), and Tim basically had a mental breakdown, started going on more secretive, dangerous missions out to random places, and dedicated nearly all of his time to trying to prove Bruce wasn't dead while everyone around him thought he was nuts for it.

I always got the impression that out of all of them, Tim was kinda the one that being a vigilante had the biggest consistently negative effect on. Consistently being the key word, since being a vigilante wasn't good for any of them lol

I think he enjoys what he does now, but I think it's really bad for him. And I think he goes through highs and lows, highs where he enjoys saving people and working as a vigilante, and lows where he doesn't enjoy it as much and does it out of obligation that he feels.

But hey, I haven't actually read many comics myself and most of my knowledge is what I read on the wiki + fandom stuff, so maybe that's not very canon 🤷

Your take is totally valid too :D

As much as I love TimKon, I prefer TimBern and it's mainly because of this:

“Bernard says I sacrifice myself like it's a bad thing.”

“But it's all I've ever known.”

“All that my family has ever been taught.”

Tim, out of all of the BatFamily members is the one that never really had a choice.

Bruce had a choice to become Batman. He almost retired, until things went badly again and he realized how much more awful Gotham would be if he did.

Dick had a choice to become Robin. When Bruce fired him he could've finished college and lived a normal life, but he chose to continue on as Nightwing.

Jason had a choice to become Robin. And while his mind had been messed with after being dunked in the Lazarus Pit, he had a choice to become Red Hood, too.

Damian had a choice to become Robin. He fought hard for the role, and seems to genuinely enjoy doing it.

Tim didn't have a choice to become Robin. Yes, no one actually forced him into the role, but he saw what had happened to Bruce after Jason's death (such as how he became more violent), and knew that Bruce needed a Robin to keep himself sane. He tried going to Dick, but Dick said the best he could do was help as Nightwing as he wasn't willing to be Robin again. So Tim felt like he had to take up the role, because Batman, his greatest hero, would lose it if he didn't.

Tim also didn't have a choice to give up being a vigilante, unlike the others. When he got replaced as Robin, Bruce was trapped in time and everyone but him thought he was dead. He didn't have Dick's experience of going out soul searching and deciding that being a hero was what he wanted in life, he had to almost immediately take up a new secret identity and start going on missions so he could find out what happened to Bruce.

I love TimBern so much, because Bernard is Tim's connection to civilian life. If you're a hero dating a hero, even when you're being civilians and doing civilian things, there's always going to be the knowledge of who you both are really, and the missions you've been on together (Such as Tim looking at Kon and remembering things like when he tried to clone him because he was ‘dead’). I feel like with Bernard, Tim can be a full on civilian and forget about the hero life for a while, and that makes it special.

Also I just think Bernard is neat :3

#dc tim drake #tim drake robin #dc robin #red robin #robin tim drake #timothy drake #character study #nighttexts

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heavysoldat · 3 years ago

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naive

winter soldier!bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: you’ve been naive, naive to your boss’ world who he’s been working for, what he’s done. when the winter soldier comes to clean up his mess, he finds you.

warning(s): smut (dubcon, pwp, light knife play, light breeding, rough unprotected sex, finger-fucking), surprisingly angsty, mentions of violence, stalking

TYSM FOR 1K!! i wanted to write something special to celebrate, and seeing as i’ve never written for TWS!bucky i thought i’d go ham. i don’t like this that much unfortunately but hopefully it’s just because i’ve reread it too many times lmaoo

When you signed on to be a researcher for a science laboratory in downtown Brooklyn, you did not expect to have the fear of God shot into you on a Friday afternoon.

It was supposed to be normal, a regular, slow workday— slaving away for a minimum wage, working your ass off with coworkers who barely respect you.

You had already been warned, told of your boss’ endeavors with notable crime figures— but you hadn’t cared. Didn’t mind that he had work with soldiers made beyond your comprehension. Didn’t mind the blood on his hands, as long as his pockets had money. Money to give you.

But when the lights dimmed, flickered above you, you could tell something was wrong. The air was thick, haunting, soul-eating.

It barely registered, when you first heard it; the sounds of screams, gunshots and bodies thudding against the floor was filling the air, muffled behind the door of your lab. People in the lobby, waiting rooms and other labs massacred, and here you were; hidden behind a door. Alone.

When it opens, your heart stops.

A man, over six feet in height, clad in leather, strapped with weapons trudges his way into the space.

You recognize him, know him by rumors, by papers and whispers— The Winter Soldier, Soldat, as assassin with more kills under his belt than you do lunches, eyes darker than the Devil himself, so cryptic and unimaginable that his existence is fought over.

Your heart quickens, killing you with it’s throb, his footsteps getting closer as he approaches you swiftly. You leap backwards and knock into a table, grabbing your own weapon— the only one issued by corporate, you live in a world where aliens exist, for god’s sake— only to realize it's not loaded.

His hands reach out, grabbing your arms, shoving you towards him. You scream, but he covers your mouth with his hand, shining metal. You brace yourself, ready to be executed like your coworkers outside— heart plummeting into the depths of your stomach.

But instead— you’re just being pinned, back to the desk, listening to his heavy panting through his mask.

You open your eyes, bracing for it. He’s almost two feet taller than you, a bulky, beefy mass of weight, towering over you with a dark gaze. The makeup around his eyes darkens them, the blue shining in the bright light of the laboratory, his dark, long hair covering half of his eyes.

"Tell me what you know about the rat," He growls, his voice making your skin itch. You’re practically trembling, shaking underneath him, horrified by what he could do.

"I don't… I don't know what you're talking about." You pant, voice shaking.

He snarls, leaning in, so close that you can feel his hot breath on your face.

"Don't play dumb with me.”

"I'm not, I'm not," You whimper, terrified. "I swear. I don't know anything."

“You work for Gunn,” He says. “I watch from under him. I see you. I know you. You can’t lie to me.”

Your employer was a dick, that’s for fucking sure, but working with Hydra was the last assumption you had on your mind. The Soldat whips a knife from his gear, holding it in his flesh hand, threatening you with just it’s presence.

“I’m not lying,” You cry, “Please, I’m not lying. I just work here, fuck, I don’t know anything!”

He raises his knife, as if to slit your throat—

Then he stops.

He looks at you— his stare making you feel like he can read you, read your heart, your soul, your mind— every little thought that races through your brain. He says something to you in a language you don’t understand. The words sound harsh and grating against each other.

"You are naive, little rabbit."

Your eyes furrow, deeper than they had been. It confuses you, making you panic— but if he was going to kill you, wouldn’t he have done it by now?

“Naive to your world. Who you work under.”

The knife slides through his fingers like drumsticks, flicking through and gleaming within the lights. It trails down your cheek, neck, cleavage, before it slices through your shirt and rips it open.

"No," you whimper.

He tilts his head, almost like a canine. He scans you, accessing you, breathing you. “No?”

You can’t do anything but whimper again. “Don’t— don’t kill me, please.”

He tsks at you, sliding the knife down through your breasts. The pressure isn’t hard enough to break the skin, but it’s enough to threaten you with it— threaten you with the idea of carving you open. Your chest heaves against it, sobs wracking through your chest.

“I have no use for killing you.”

“Wh… what?”

With his hands, he tears the torn fabric off of your skin, peeling it away just enough to expose you. You yelp, watching as the knife tears your pants with it; leaving you bare, barely covered by scraps of your ruined clothes.

He’s tracing your skin with his fingertips, rubbing along your goosebumps, ignoring the way your heartbeat quickens. When they get lower, closer to your sex, you squeeze your legs closed; but he rips them back open.

“I won’t hurt you, little one.”

His metal fingers slide through your folds, glistening with some of the wetness your sex has already provided. One finger glides into your hole, prodding you open— the growl he lets out surprises you, jumps you, makes you scan his face. He’s been so emotionless, so mechanical, like nothing but a machine; but he’s taking pleasure from your body, and he’s letting you know.

“Stay open for me,” He says. “Take it.”

Another slides in, and they begin to scissor inside of you. They get faster, twisting and abusing your cunt, hitting the spongey part inside you with reckless abandon. You can’t help but moan in whine; out of fear or pleasure, you don’t know.

“Little one…” His voice is deep, dark. “Has your lover ever filled you this way?”

“What— what?” Your voice is barely a whisper, consumed by what he’s giving you.

“I’ve watched you.” He says. “I’ve watched him take you. Over, and over. He cannot fill you like I can.”

Before you can even process, make sense of what he’s just told you; he’s tearing off the pants of his tactical gear, his throbbing, thick cock jumps to his stomach, slapping your thigh as it’s freed.

"I've stared through your window, at night. Every day as I stalk, assessing you for the job—“ He snarls, his fingers sliding outside of your pussy. With the wetness from inside of you, he rubs your clit with harsh pressure, just as fast as he finger fucked you. “I watched him take you. Watched him fuck you. He’s pathetic— useless.”

His other arm, free, rubs at your arm. It’s jarring, how caring it feels, compared to everything else he’s showed you. It’s loving. Romantic.

“Tell me you need me.”

When you look at him, you’re shocked. His eyes are filled with nothing but heartbreak. He’s begging, pleading to you. Desperate for you to let him take you. Desperate for something you can’t figure out.

“I-“ You start, lip quivering, heart aching, “I need you.”

When the words leave your mouth, he whines, deep in the back of his throat. The fingers on your clit move to grab your waist, before he slides his cock into your pussy- already soaked, already stretched for him. Just for him.

He doesn’t waste any time. Within seconds, he’s pounding into you, slamming you against your desk with the force of his fucking. You can hear items scatter, fall to the floor, accompanied by his wild grunts and groans.

He’s too big. You’re surprised he’s even fitting inside you, the thickness of him enough to make your head spin. He forces you down his cock, grunting and snarling underneath his mask.

"Tell me you need me," He snarls. "Tell me you need me, little one. That he is nothing compared to me. To how I stretch you."

“I need you,” You gasp, holding onto him for dear life. You’re surprised by how truthful your words feel, how much they make sense to you. How right they feel.

"Can he take you like this, little one? Can he take you like I can?"

All in all— the words he uses feel correct. He’s not fucking you. He’s taking you.

“No,” Your cunt clenches around him, begging him to keep fucking you, “He can’t. Fuck- no, he can’t!”

That makes him growl. He pushes you down, slamming your back against the table, using it as leverage to pound into you deeper. Your hair forms a halo around your head, nails digging into his thighs for dear life, hard enough to make him bleed.

"I want to be inside you whenever you're with him," He snarls. “I want your screams to be mine. Your pussy to be mine.”

The feelings coursing through your body explode as you fall into a pit of heat, feeling waves of pure ecstasy and euphoria crash over you. He keeps fucking you while you cum, not bothering to slow down as you tremble and shake against him.

“I want to fill you with my cum,” He groans. “Mark you as mine. Make you mine.”

You need that. Fuck, you need that.

“Yes,” You’re sobbing, pliant underneath him, being fucked and manhandled like a toy for his pleasure— but his words are humanizing, impactful and claiming. It’s so much, it’s too much for you to handle.

“Tell me you want that,” He sobs, body wracked with pleasure. “Tell me you want it!”

When you don’t respond, he slaps the inside of your thigh, making you cry out— “I want it, fuck, please! I want it!”

“More,” He roars with approval, “Tell me more.”

You’re incoherent, trying so hard to give him what he needs; “Mark me, claim me, cum inside me— I want you to fill me, I need you to breed me,”

His hands dig into you hard enough to make his knuckles white, before he’s moaning, screaming, whining, pumping you full of his spend. His orgasm lasts minutes, enough cum to drip out of you and puddle on the floor.

You find yourself falling again, cumming one more time around his cock, gripping him like a vice. Your eyes shut as your orgasm takes over, thighs shaking, teeth chattering. You feel like all the air has been crushed out of your lungs.

He's grunting and snarling, his hips snapping against your ass as he finishes you. You'd be sore in the morning.

After your breath evens out, his hand, metal, grasps your jaw in his palm. With loving strokes to your cheek, he stares down at your trembling form. He hums.

“You’re mine, little one. I don’t plan on letting you go.”

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan smut #my writing #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction

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proudfreakmetarusonikku · 2 years ago

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c!Tommy was NEVER malicious towards c!Dream. He was annoying, and he stole, but he had no malicious intent. He genuinely just wanted to have fun and play pranks. He was naive, and he didn’t care about authority, but he never acted to intentionally cause serious harm. He's fought against c!Dream, but never out of any bad intentions- first, he just wanted his discs back, later on he was genuinely terrified for his own life. He has lashed out as a result of trauma, and has caused harm due to that, but these are actions born from genuine terror, and are something he needs help he isn’t getting to reliably move past.

Meanwhile, many of c!Dream's actions were both incredibly cruel and incredibly prolonged. During Exile, he systematically tore down c!Tommy's worth daily, continuing even after c!Tommy was nothing but kind to him, and only ever escalated his cruelty, to the point of essentially falsely imprisoning him in Logsted by the end (by banning him from the Nether, something he has NO authority over, with the implicit threat of death if he ever went). He knew Limbo was painful yet he left c!Tommy to linger for days. He repeatedly threatened c!Tommy with immortality despite his clear terror of the idea, and repeatedly pushed at his triggers. He made a whole torture mixtape and stalked c!Tommy, placing threatening signs, despite the fact he was already terrified and hiding.

The majority of the time, these actions were unprovoked- during Exile, c!Tommy grew to genuinely trust and care for c!Dream and was essentially harmless, after revival he was terrified and desperate and willing to go along with c!Dream's plans if he didn’t revive c!Wilbur, he was petrified after c!Dream escaped prison and just wanted to be safe. The initial act of Exile was because of c!Tommy threatening Spirit- however, c!Dream was already framing c!Tommy for griefs he didn’t do and aggressively pushing for Exile well before c!Tommy did anything to him, suggesting that he would have gone through with it another way if c!Tommy didn’t do so.

Meanwhile, what c!Tommy did in the prison was… question c!Dream on the revival book. Killing the cat was not the provoking incident, despite what some people think. c!Dream made no action to do so until c!Tommy doubted him. This isn’t me saying what c!Tommy did to the prison cat was okay, of course it fucking wasn’t. c!Tommy was angry and afraid and lashing out, like he does often after traumatic events- see when he tortured c!Fundy and c!Conner for information. But, like with Spirit, we are provided ample evidence it wouldn’t have effected anything in the long run.

If c!Dream was genuinely driven to torturing multiple people because a kid was annoying and stole his shit once, that’s on him. c!Tommy's actions could have been prevented easily by providing him a productive outlet. Hell, they probably could have been prevented without ACTIVE ENCOURAGEMENT, which c!Dream did multiple times, when it wasn’t aimed at him. That does not make out c!Dream to be a tortured soul- it makes him out to be dangerously unstable and hypocritical.

In addition, all the reasons c!Dream even cites weren’t even fully started by c!Tommy! c!Sapnap was the first to burn down the Lemon Tree in the events directly proceeding the disc war. c!Sapnap and c!Tommy both decided to kill c!Dream, yet only one of them was ever punished. c!Tommy was never the leader of L'Manberg, and while he was a founder so was c!Tubbo and c!Fundy. Yet c!Tommy gets the brunt of the impact for no fair reason. He is not uniquely flawed, yet he is always the one c!Dream focuses on, something c!Tommy could have literally no control over.

And if c!Dream and c!Tommy having ANY sort of mutual level of harm towards each other was the point of the ending… that’s genuinely a terrible ending! Because it’s completely logically inconsistent to the rest of the story, and requires leaps of logic that don’t make sense.

The idea that c!Tommy drove c!Dream insane falls apart the second you remember other people have done everything he did- and wouldn’t that drive him insane too? If it wasn’t c!Tommy, it'd be c!Fundy, or c!Tubbo. If his first response to non-malicious harm is to ruin someone’s life, not only is he too emotionally unstable to be trusted in ANY position of power, he's a cruel and vindictive person, and that makes any sympathy we are meant to feel fall flat. Why are we meant to root for his friendships if he's so easily pushed into violence? If he's willing to- without consent or proper knowledge- traumatise and irreparably harm many on his way to a big happy family, how am I meant to trust his definition of it is not horrific?

It leaves the finale feeling incredibly confused and emotionally unsatisfying. It feels like characters are changing too quickly, in a way that lacks any catharsis, and it feels inconsistent to the rest of the story. Why is c!Dream suddenly willing to open up? He wasn’t the other times c!Tommy tried to ask him why he did any of this- why is now any different? Why is he suddenly willing to change goals he’s had for years when he’s previously been characterised as having an almost self destructive drive towards them he doesn’t ever let go of?

Why would the man who threw himself into a blackstone hell box to prevent any suspicion from forming in the future despite it not being a pressing issue change his whole plans in fifteen minutes because he learnt “okay, maybe other people also want friends and a simple life”? It’s rushed to the point of incoherence, and makes the whole story feel pointless if it was just building up to a finale that feels like it came from some bootleg version of canon. It’s like a fanfiction written by people with third hand knowledge on the characters and settings.

Besides, even basic logic aside, it’s just not emotionally satisfying. c!Tommy has never gotten a single win on the server that hasn’t been turned against him later, and none of it meant anything. His struggles were pointless, and the whole server would have been better if he didn’t exist, apparently. He continues to be blamed and tormented, and the unfair nature of how he’s treated is never addressed, and he's still being blamed for everything minutes before his death. His suicidal tendencies and trauma are only brought up to be laughed at, and they’re resolved by placing the responsibility on c!Tommy, when he’s already had too much on his shoulders, and that’s framed as a good, positive thing.

Meanwhile, c!Dream never has a single consequence for anything he’s done to c!Tommy- unless you count c!Quackity's torture, but that’s debatable and mostly offscreen. Even the Disc Finale was a win for him all along. He keeps winning and winning and even when he dies it's not portrayed as a consequence, it’s a tragedy. The consequence is placed on c!Tommy, if anything. And that’s generally not a satisfying arc for an antagonist! Hell, it’s not one for a protagonist, even, but for an antagonist, it makes the whole story feel completely pointless, if all we're seeing is our point of view character lose and take all the responsibility.

And, of course, there’s the issue of abuse and suicide being a VERY REAL issue people suffer through. Seeing them portrayed in a way that’s uncomfortable and places the blame on a victim is something that alienates and hurts viewers who are a victim of these issues, potentially spreads harmful messaging, and does nothing to improve a story.

Of course, it is not the responsibility of a story to provide good moral lessons, but if you write a story with uncomfortable implications, that is genuinely a flaw. Improper handling of topics like suicide have been known to cause genuine harm when shown to a large audience- and the DSMP has an audience of millions. Besides that, it’s just not good storytelling to introduce delicate real world topics, and then treat them disrespectfully. It’s uncomfortable, pointless, and makes the characters seem unlikable and cruel at best.

If the CCs didn’t want to handle topics like this, they shouldn’t have. If they didn’t want to deal with the implications of c!Dream torturing c!Tommy, they shouldn’t have had him do that- and they definitely shouldn’t have brought it up in the finale even though it makes the whole thing seem illogical and weirdly cruel towards the character who’s a victim for no reason. They could have stopped at any time, but they didn't.

#dream smp #dsmp neg

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siswritesyanderes · 3 years ago

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Would you write yandere Peter (Garfield) different than yandere Peter (Holland)? Or are their characters similar enough that you don’t think you’d have to.

I would definitely characterize them differently. (And all of this is subject to change, but here is how I'm thinking about them now.)

Tom Holland Spider-Man would be more on the delusional and placating side; he would be smiling a lot and insisting that the two of you are in love and rambling about his plans for your future together. He'd be so sweet, it would feel impossible to say no to him. It's much easier to just let him plan out the next perfect date, the perfect school dance, the perfect summer, the perfect college life. If you stop going with the flow for any of it, he'd start gently nudging you back into place, first with smiles and then with a few sad comments. "I just thought it would be fun to do something together. I'm sorry, you're right, it's stupid..." Peter's behavior would change like a switch being flipped, depending on whether or not he's around you; with you, he's all innocent and friendly, and then when he has to deal with competition or "bad influences", he is every bit the man who has been to space and fought titans. He is ruthless about intimidating people behind your back, and he's great at putting his facade back on before you can catch him doing it. But the fact that he will glare people down and go full creep when you aren't around means the ones he scares off are blatantly scared; even if he's all smiles, he's not really doing much to hide the way other people react to him. He'll brush it off if it comes up, of course. "Scared him? No, no, we were just chatting about chem lab. Did he say I scared him?" He can and will make people disappear.

Andrew Garfield Spider-Man would be more wily and charming. He would also be less open about pursuing you; he would want to win you over by being charismatic before letting on how much he already loves you. When you start dating, he seems like a normal cool nerd who likes you a normal amount. Then he steadily starts wrapping his arms around you more often, holding you for longer, hiding his face in your neck or your shirt or your hair. He's good at not overwhelming you; if he senses that you're getting uncomfortable, he'll diffuse the tension with a self-deprecating, "Too much? Sorry; guess I'm feeling sappy today." As far as the long term, he plans around you more than for you; when he wants something, he's resourceful and crafty enough to get his way, but there's not much that he really wants, other than you. He doesn't have his heart set on a particular school, a particular date location, etc. As long as he keeps his grip on you, he's amenable to changes along the way. When he deals with people he doesn't like, he is still charming, but now with a subtly threatening edge. He'll smile at them while intimidating them, his tone light and snarky. He might even do it in front of you, and you might not even notice. The people he scares off don't act openly scared of him; they might stammer a bit when he addresses them, but mostly they just avoid you like the plague. He kills some of them, and he doesn't even make them disappear; he just gets rid of them in ways that ensure it's impossible to blame him. Just absolute 4D-chess murders that ensure both Spider-Man and Peter Parker have the most solid alibis imaginable.

Their reactions to you being scared of them would be different, in that Tom!Peter would be more "It's okay! It's okay! Shhh-shhh-shhhh, don't scream; you're okay," whereas Andrew!Peter would be more "I know this is bad, give me a minute and I'll make it okay."

Both of them would stalk you as Spider-Man.

Both of them would be willing to kidnap you. (Lol, imagine Tom!Peter abducts you to someplace and MJ is just there surrounded by books like "You too, huh? Yeah, I've been here for a year now. He's way overprotective, and I object to pretty much all of this, but on the bright side I'm really burning through my TBR list, with all this free time." Shoot, that's a fic I would write...)

#yandere spiderman #yandere peter parker #yandere tom holland spider man #yandere andrew garfield spider man #yandere tasm #yandere mcu #yandere marvel #spideychelle #male yandere

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astaroth1357 · 4 years ago

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Demon Brothers Getting Possessive at the Club

… I can explain. Or, well, no I can't. But this exists now anyway so enjoy?

Warnings: Possessive Behavior, Yandere-ish, Violence

Intro: The MC and their favorite demon were just trying to have a fun night out at The Fall. The lights were going, the music was blaring, and the two of them were by the bar but there was a problem. Their demon noticed a sketchy creep who'd been eyeing their human all night long… and that simply won't do. So when their human left to use the bathroom…

It was time to take care of the problem.

Lucifer

Though Lucifer was usually less than into the club scene, the MC wanted a change of pace from their usual dates and he did so want to make them happy… At first, he thought he'd just be dealing with the loud noise and crowded atmosphere but then he noticed something else…

A demon had been following them through most of the night, always keeping his distance but staring at the MC far too much for his liking…

This put Lucifer in a bit of an odd position. He didn't exactly want to leave the club because the MC didn't look tired yet, but he also didn't like seeing that cretin following them around…

Yet, of course, it also rubbed his pride the wrong way to go tell him to stop directly. Lucifer would never admit to feeling bothered by some pitiful lesser demon… Never.

But by the time the MC left him to use the restroom, he was at his wit's end. He could see the man had taken a seat at the other end of the bar just to watch them and he was growing irritated… So he had to devise a new strategy.

It's unusual for demons to walk around in their true forms. It's not that it's frowned upon or anything, it's just that it's normally something reserved for big events… or for displays of dominance and control.

So when Lucifer slipped into his demon form in the middle of The Fall, it turned quite a few heads. Truthfully, there was only one head in particular that he wanted his way, and once he got it, he stared the guy down…

It was a taste of the lowlife's own medicine, but so much worse coming from him… The feel of Lucifer's bloody-onyx eyes and chillingly cold smile from across the bar could have made even the strongest men run for the hills…

Needless to say, the demon didn't last very long under the eldest brother's gaze. In fact, he wilted almost immediately before slinking away as quickly as he could…

A guy not even able to stomach the firstborn's stare? Truly a pathetic coward if Lucifer ever saw one.

He was totally back to normal by the time the MC returned and went back to dancing with them like nothing ever happened… Though his human couldn't help but notice the crowd kept their distance from them for the rest of the night...

Eh, Hell is just weird sometimes isn't it?

Mammon

Look, Mammon had been trying to have some fun the whole night and for the most part he'd been succeeding except for one thing…

He could sense that asshole still hadn't left them alone. He'd just hover near him and his MC like a hellhound stalking prey… It was annoying. It was creepy…

And it was reeeaaallly getting on his nerves.

When the MC left for the restroom, he was leaning back against the bar scanning the room for their abhorrent admirer while using the tint of his sunglasses to hide his eyes.

It didn't take him long to see the gross fuck sitting alone at a table. Who knew what he was planning... following them home? Taking candid shots of MC? Either way, he wanted to sock him in the jaw…

But, of course, Mammon knew he had to play it just a little smoother than that to stay in the club.

Mammon sauntered over to the man's table and invited himself to sit, kicking his feet up to look casual but knocking his boots against the surface so roughly it made the guy jump... Pathetic.

"Oi, so I've seen ya lookin at my human… Real work of art, eh?" He flashed the guy a fanged grin and watched him sweat for a second before cutting off any answer.

"-'course they are. Don't need to tell me. But I gotta say, you're really ticking me off, bud… We're just tryin to enjoy ourselves but I keep seeing your ugly mug wherever we're at."

He pulled his legs back from the table and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a deck of playing cards.

"Tell ya what, I'm feelin oddly generous so let's play a game. You and me. If ya win, I'll let ya have a night with'em…" He fought the urge to punch the guy when he saw his eyes light up, "but if I win…"

Mammon put the deck on the table then leaned in real close, "I'll flay your skin off and gild ya skeleton in the 4th circle myself… Gold skulls are selling like hotcakes right now." He put every bit of malice he could into the threat, even barring his increasingly sharpening fangs.

The guy must of had a good head on him because he paled immediately before getting up and running from the table. If there's one thing everybody knows about Mammon, it's never play cards with him if he can make even a single Grimm… Chances are, you're gonna lose.

When the MC came back, Mammon flagged them down to their new table and pulled them onto his lap for a little chat before getting more drinks. They're his human. His.

Leviathan

Of course Levi noticed this creep the second that they walked in. He's Envy. He had been hyper-vigilant of all the attention the MC had been receiving since their first step inside. But this guy was… persistent.

He'd been tailing them all night, always finding spots with good vantage points, which of course was sketch as hell but...

Honestly? Levi just didn't like him looking at them. Not at all. In fact, he'd hazard to say he truly hated this complete stranger for how much real estate his eyes were taking up of his precious MC… What gave him the right??

By the time the MC had to use the restroom, he was sitting at the bar seriously contemplating whether or not to just carry them home… He didn't like night clubs anyway, but they seemed to be having fun and they always looked so cute while dancing…

No. He couldn't just take them home. But once they left, he had a much better idea.

It was easy for Levi to slip away from the bar. The asshole was leaned back against a nearby wall and pretty much pulled his phone out the second the MC was out of sight. From there, Levi only had to do what he did best, blend into the background, until he was right next to the guy...

He didn't say anything. He didn't give him any warning or threat. No, no he was far too ticked to be that charitable…

The only indication the man got of how royally he fucked up was the searing pain of Levi's fangs digging into his shoulder, the thirdborn's gloved hand muffling his screams until the venom took hold of his prey.

The last thing that man ever saw, propped up and paralyzed against the wall, was the MC coming back to their docile otaku, who now pulled them into his arms… still shooting the occasional smirk in his victim's direction.

And the last thing he ever heard was the same word his killer whispered to him after his throat became too tight to scream… "Mine."

Satan

This always seemed to happen whenever he took the MC places… They could be walking together in the park and he'd still see lesser demon eyes following them around...

Frankly, it did piss him off to a degree. He knew they never asked to be stared at like a piece of meat, but if he'd go on a rampage every time it happened then they'd never have a quiet date again. So he learned to put up with it… to an extent.

The demon that had been following them that night was really testing his notoriously short patience...

He had tried several tactics to shake the guy as they were dancing but he'd always come right back. He even got more handsy than normal to show, "Hey, this one is mine!" but that had gotten him equally dismal results… It was bordering the line of disrespect now.

He did his best to keep up a friendly face while the MC was with him, but they must have noticed he'd gotten tense. They told him to try and relax a bit before they left for the bathroom…

Oh, he was going to relax alright.

The second they were out of sight, Satan's smile broke into a glare he leveled right at the offending scumbag's table. Of course, seeing the MC had left put the guy's attention elsewhere, but that was his funeral.

Satan knew his time was limited, so he skipped the pleasantries and marched right over to him, slamming his foot down onto the edge of the table with such force it threatened to tip it over then grabbed him by the neck.

"Back. OFF."

It really didn't take much, his reputation preceded him. He felt the guy's pulse skyrocket between his fingers before he let him go.

It was hard not to get a little satisfaction when watching the worthless creep scramble away from him like his life depended on it (as it very much did). He almost considered giving chase just to amp up the fun, but the MC returned sooner than he expected…

A pair of arms around his waist and lips against his cheek were enough to evaporate his anger right then… but it didn't settle his sudden need to mark them in the slightest.

Ultimately, the real question was whether he could wait until they got home to show the world that they were his or if they needed to find somewhere… quieter. No promises, MC.

Asmodeus

Asmo had dealt with his fair share of admirers, the stalking kind included. Fortunately, dealing with them had always been relatively easy for him (he is a ruler of Hell after all) but one targeting his beloved human…? That was far less acceptable in his eyes.

He caught sight of the beady eyes of the creep while he was dancing with the MC. At first, he thought the guy was looking at him (who wouldn't?) but then he followed his eyeline right to his lovely human companion…

Though he couldn't exactly blame him for staring, he and MC made a fantastic looking pair, he definitely couldn't sit idly by either. People like this are usually bad news and he refused to let any harm come to his MC…!

He was as tactful as ever, though. He liked The Fall and would rather not be banned from returning… He waited patiently for the MC to go to the bathroom before making his way over to the creep, his perfect smile still sitting on his face.

"Excuse me, cutie." He waited for the stalker's eyes to leave his phone and settle on Asmo's own. "Ah, there you are! Good. I had a question for you, I think… oh no, I must have forgotten it! Silly me."

Though he could see the demon was growing annoyed, Asmo stalled for just a few moments longer… just long enough for his bewitching charm to set into his victim's mind.

"Ah! Now I remember. Do you like dogs?" He smiled in satisfaction to see the creeper's head nod slowly. "Oh good! Because I know a very hungry dog right now… Cerberus is his name and I don't think he's had a meal today. Would you be a doll and go feed him for me? He lives in the cave behind the House of Lamentation. You can't miss him."

The demon's head nodded slowly yet again as he rose from his chair and walked out of the club quietly. Quick, painless, and with no messy cleanup!

Well… none that Cerberus wouldn't clean up for him anyway. Asmo returned to the bar with a newly giddy grin on his face... His MC wouldn't be seeing that man ever again~!

Beelzebub

Beel is very patient. Beel is very kind. Beel is very forgiving. Beel is… really not about this right now...

Unlike his brothers, Beel's easygoing nature made him less quick to pick up on the lingering glances that the MC gets from others. Even when he does notice, he can usually let it slide if looking is all they do (he's the only one who can touch after all).

But even he couldn't miss how wolfishly that demon was staring at them… It made him uncomfortable and the guy just refused to leave them alone…

By the time the MC left Beel at the bar to use the restroom, he was on a level of irritated usually only reserved for when someone denied him food… It was like that jerk had taken a cheese grater to his patience and it was wearing thin…

As much as he knew he could deck him, he didn't want to get them kicked out… The MC was having such a good time, despite the creep's ogling, so he used a different approach…

Being so high up in Hell had its perks and one was that anywhere in town that offered food also had a secret menu… A Beelzebub Only menu (as a precaution so that he wouldn't wreck the place whenever he stopped by). Anything on his menu always had huge portions and The Fall was no exception.

The bartender didn't seem too surprised when he ordered a Drakon Leg, but he was very surprised when he asked to get the full bone too… Not with the meat on it. Just the bone.

Fun Fact: the bones of Drakons are supremely thick and strong enough to be used as clubs.

Even More Fun Fact: it takes an incredible amount of force to snap these bones…

...which Beel did without breaking a sweat… and maintaining eye contact with the creep The. Entire. Time. The sound of the bone snapping in two was almost as deafening as a gunshot and he didn't even flinch.

The demon went running out of the club with his tail between his legs and quickly got swapped out for the MC running back, worried about what made such a loud noise…

Of course, by that time Beel had the bone thrown away and was chowing down on the meat like nothing ever happened so they dropped the subject soon enough...

He may not be as open about when he claims someone as the rest of his family but that's because when push comes to shove, who in their right mind would want to challenge Beel anyway...?

Belphegor

Nope. Nope. Nope nope nope, he's not having this. Not one bit.

Belphie lacks a lot of the good-natured patience of his twin... Chances are if there's something happening and he's not stopping it, it's just because putting up with it is the path of least resistance…

But there are always exceptions and those are usually reserved for the MC.

Strangers trying to get close or even imagining themselves being with MC really makes his blood boil… He knew them the most. He loved them the most. On just what grounds did some random moron think he could take his place?? Wishful thinking? Keep dreaming, buddy.

So, of course, he wasn't happy when he noticed some asshole staring at the MC like Beel does when he sees a havoc roast...

He kept his poker face up while he was with the MC, but he was devising a plan to take care of him the entire time… One he finally got the chance to enact once the MC went to the bathroom.

He's even better at going unnoticed than Levi, so sneaking his way over to the asshole was a piece of cake. He didn't notice until Belphie casually draped his arm around the guy's neck, hanging his clawed hand dangerously close to the scumbag's heart...

"Having a good time…?"

He could feel a shallow swallow against his arm as he began to slowly apply pressure to his trachea.

"I bet you were… and I was too until I saw you following us… Care to explain yourself?"

"I-I uh-Gah!"

The guy's voice gets cut off by Belphie's arm getting even tighter, the sharp tips of his claws drumming directly over the man's thundering heart.

"Ugh, that's what you actually sound like? Never mind, it's not worth knowing…" His fingers stopped drumming and slowly began to dig into his skin...

"I'm only going to say this once… If I ever see you tailing my human again, you won't be needing this-" his claws drilled a little deeper into his chest, "-anymore. Am I clear?"

The demon's head nodded as much as his strangled throat would allow and Belphie finally retracted his claws, wiping the blood off on the guy's shirt before letting him go. He fell forward onto all fours before attempting to scramble away as fast as he could...

Belphie watched him go with disinterest on his face, but satisfaction in his heart. Yet another threat to his human dealt with… And they could go back to enjoying their evening together. Alone. Just where his human belonged...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #tw: yandere #tw: possessive behavior #tw: paralysis #tw: violence #tw: mentions of death

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