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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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rxnn · 7 months ago

Text

Bleeding Heart [five]

warnings: arguing (jaybird is jelly), stalking

one, two, three, four, six

❥❥❥

Jason was seething as he fought to not break Dick’s nose.

Maybe that would wipe the stupid, irritating grin off his face. The oldest hadn’t stopped smiling since patrol started and Jason was acutely aware of why.

Jason was territorial, possessive, whatever you want to call it. The thing loomed over him like an inescapable shadow. He knew it existed, clawing at his subconscious, burning in his chest, threatening to swallow him whole. After growing up with close to nothing to his name, it was ingrained in him to hold anything he cared about away from anyone who may take it from him.

And he cared about Leia. He cared about Callum.

To admit it was something that kept him up in the early hours of dawn after patrol, especially after he’d seen Leia and Dick chatting it up a block away from their apartment complex. She was smiling, laughing. He tried, he really tried, but the thing on his shoulder bared its ugly, bloody teeth.

Leia and Callum had become his little slice of peace, a sign of hope. They were an island oasis in a sea of never-ending chaos, a breath of fresh air after choking down ash and smoke for a lifetime.

Without even realizing, he’d gotten their schedule down to a T.

He started coming and going when they were. He waited a few minutes to go on patrol for the chance to have a longer conversation with Leia when she’d come back from her shifts tired and sore. She would offer him a pretty smile and she’d lean against a wall, telling him about her shift before picking up Callum from her neighbor. He figured out what time Callum walked home from the bus when Leia couldn’t be there and offered to start walking him back. That way, she wouldn't have to rush home and Callum was sure to make it back to the complex safe and sound. After some understandable hesitation, Leia allowed it and gave him her number to contact her.

He had her number saved in his phone as L, one of the few marked in his favorites.

Callum was a bright kid with a smile to match. He would rattle off about his day while they walked, barely pausing long enough to breathe. When the kid admitted he was having trouble in math, Jason started quizzing him randomly on their walks.

If Jason was being honest with himself – which didn’t happen often – he was finding the silence in his apartment unbearable as the echoes of the family of two across the hall flitted through the walls like a butterfly he could never catch.

The mother and son were unbearably normal, but that’s what made them so special. These were the people he fought for and here they were, giving him the time of day and treating him like a person rather than a soldier.

Dick didn’t understand it. He couldn’t. He was the favorite son, the favorite brother, the golden boy. He didn’t understand what it was to be completely alone without anyone to be there purely because they cared. Dick had people who didn't look at him like he was a monster, Jason did.

“Wipe that dumbass grin off your face.”

“What?” Nightwing’s head spun to the side, cheesy grin disappearing like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“You heard me,” Red Hood replied gruffly, crossing his arms to keep his arms from swinging. “And back the hell off. She doesn’t need you.”

“Are you…are you calling dibs?” He had the audacity to laugh as if this was a joke. “Leia –”

Red Hood slammed Nightwing into the brick wall behind him so hard it was sure to leave bruises on the oldest’s back. He didn’t bother holding back his strength, a gift from his revival only proven as his teal eyes faded into glowing green under his helmet.

“Don’t fucking say her name.”

Nightwing didn’t fight him, didn’t push him off, just looked at him casually, putting his hands up. “Is it a crime to want to meet the girl that’s got my brother like this?”

“Fuck. Off.”

“What’s going on?” Batman’s deep, gravelly voice made Red Hood back off with a final shove.

“Nothing.” Red Hood scoffed, the scowl of his helmet only conveying half of the look he was giving Nightwing. “Back off,” he hissed, modulated voice making it sound more like a growl.

He didn’t bother sticking around, jumping off the roof. Hopefully beating the shit out of some low lives would ease the weight on his chest.

❥

Nightwing rolled his shoulders, watching Red Hood disappear into the night. He honestly hadn’t even realized he was smiling until Red Hood snapped him out of his stupor. He was going over his conversation with Leia, scrambling to think of another excuse to see her again which led to the thought of a real date, but the daydream was ruined.

He wasn’t expecting such a strong reaction from Jason. Usually, the light teasing got him a grunt at best. Of course, he knew teasing Jason about his neighbor should've stayed a taboo thing neither of them brought up again, but could you really blame him?

Leia was a kind, smart, beautiful woman. Even though his brother just technically called dibs, his thoughts were just that, thoughts. They would stay there -- at least that's what he told himself.

“Care to explain?” Batman’s voice made Nightwing sigh.

While he wouldn’t usually fess up to something like this, he thought it best if Bruce heard it from him rather than anyone else.

“Remember that girl, Leia, that stitched him up a few nights ago?”

Batman squinted though it looked more like a glare and crossed his arms.

“Yeah, well I’m pretty sure he’s got a thing for her or something like that. I was curious so I happened to meet her yesterday and we hit it off. Now, Red is pissed cause he thinks he called some sort of dibs? Not sure honestly.” He shrugged though he knew damn well by Jason’s reaction that his feelings were deeper than just ‘a thing’.

Saying it outloud made a pit grow in Dick’s chest. Jason truly cared for Leia, probably loved her. A part of Dick wanted to leave it, drop any sort of interest in the girl and let Jason be. Another part though whispered in his ear sickly sweet half-truths and promises.

“What’s so special about her?” Robin’s voice called down from his perch above Nightwing who was well aware he had been eavesdropping since Red Hood left.

Nightwing opened his mouth to scold the boy, but Batman beat him to it.

“Every person has value, regardless of who they are.” He uncrossed his arms and glanced around the shadows of the roof. “Where’s Red Robin?”

❥

Tim Drake was known for being thorough.

Most days, it helped him pursue the cold cases that landed on his desk along with handling the many difficulties Wayne Enterprises had. It allowed him to juggle his double life with, albeit, little grace, but the job got done. That being said, it was also known that despite being thorough, that often led to a habit of a small obsession with finishing the job.

Tonight was yet another example of such…thoroughness.

Leia Barnett was a curious case. Clean as a whistle with a past shrouded in grief, a combination that was undeniably odd in their world. A car crash had almost cost her and her son their lives and it took away her best friend. On paper she snapped into action as soon as she recovered instead of wallowing and rotting in her pain. She didn't let it control her, at least that's what he assumed. Yet another oddity in a world where it was so easy to get lost in one’s pain, to writhe in it and let it eat you alive.

She was smiling, moving around her kitchen with ease as she cooked a new pasta dish he’d seen pop up a few nights prior on her search history. Meanwhile, Callum sat at the small table painting. He’d smeared a streak of green across his nose a moment ago but didn’t seem to notice. He finished his homework a while ago, breezing through most of it as usual. According to Willow Creek Elementary’s database, his grades were fantastic in everything except math, but even those had been going up in the past few weeks.

A soft, mechanical click of a camera captured the moment.

Tim looked down at the picture, smiling fondly as it appeared on screen. One of many in his quickly growing collection.

He had yet to meet her unlike his older brothers, but he knew more about Callum and his mother than either of them, something he held over their heads even if they didn't know it. He knew Callum loved to paint, color, draw – anything that gave him the freedom to scatter an image across a surface was fair game. He knew he didn’t have many friends but the few he had were good kids (Tim had vetted each of the kid's parents to make sure Callum wouldn't be badly influenced).

He knew Leia’s favorite color was purple, lilac to be specific. He knew she enjoyed fantasy books but had a hard time finding time to read the many on her shelf. He knew she was bisexual, just like him (something that they could bond over) and that her mother was a horrible person, having kicked Leia out as soon as she found out. And he knew that she made it through that too.

Leia was strong. She was cunning and resourceful when it came down to it, he'd watched it in real time. She had a big, bleeding heart; her empathy knew no bounds. Tim wondered if that was why she humored Jason. Maybe she could see through the harsh exterior and pitied him which made him wonder what she would see in him.

In the beginning, Tim swore to himself that this was innocent, that this was just curiosity, he just wanted to make sure that she was clean. He promised it was to make sure Jason was okay as he spent his free time watching her work through the hospital's cameras.

He wasn't sure when it turned into...this. Once he started watching, he couldn't look away. His eyes were glued to his screens, writing and rewriting whatever notes he could scramble onto anything he could.

Tim was enamored by Leia. He often thought about meeting her, speaking to her instead of just watching over her and her son from a distance. He liked to think he was their guardian, much like he was to the rest of Gotham. He didn’t need to be there like Jason and Dick (though it would be nice). She was a blazing hearth, something to be cared for and watched over in fear that it would eventually fade.

Eventually, the wind picked up, chasing away his thoughts, reminding where he was, who he was.

Who was he, someone who was tarnished by vigilantism, to stand in her warmth? How badly he wanted to join his brothers, escape from the shadows and step into her light.

So, for now, a photo of what could be was enough.

❥

“Mama! Mama! Look!”

The loud screech of the wood chair on the floor followed by the scrambling of little feet brought Leia out of her cooking. She was a creature of habit with a young child, so they tended to have the same meals on rotation. Someone could only have hot dogs so many times. However, she was going to try giving her picky six-year-old something new and pray she didn’t just spend good money and work an hour on this meal for nothing.

“Hmm?” She peered down as Callum tugged on her purple sweater, probably smearing paint on the edges. Thank goodness she bought the washable paint this time.

He was holding a paper behind his back, shyly smiling up at her.

“Let’s see it.” Leia waved a hand and leaned back on the counter.

“Tadaaa!” He held up his picture, paint still drying. “What do you think Mama? That’s you, then me, and that’s Mr. Jason! It’s us at the park.”

He pointed to a smiling stick figure with a blue shirt and blue pants which she assumed was her scrubs, then another smiling figure much smaller than the other two, and a third that was taller than the other two figures that had black hair and a white streak that was turning gray thanks to the mixing paint. Behind them was a bright yellow sun and a few gray clouds with smiley faces. They stood on green grass with a familiar yellow slide in the background.

“It looks great, honey.” Leia laughed lightly.

“Do you think Mr. Jason would like it? He’s really nice.”

“I’m sure he’d love it.”

“Do you like him?”

Leia choked on air, staring at her son with wide eyes. “W-What?”

“Do you like him?” Callum’s head tilted to the side innocently.

Leia stared at him before shaking her head. “Yes, I like Mr. Jason. He’s a good person.” She took the picture from Callum, holding it up to the light like she was inspecting it. “I think this is fridge worthy, don’t you?”

“Yay!” Callum cheered, throwing his small arms in the air and rushed over to the metal fridge, picking out the green T-rex magnet.

“Hmm. Where do you think?”

Callum’s face scrunched up, looking between the dozen pictures that decorated the fridge. “Above that one!” He pointed to the top corner, above one of a black kitten he said he saw walking home with Jason.

Once it was up, they both took a step back to admire the fridge that had almost no space left. Leia chuckled, picking Callum up and placed him on her hip.

“It looks perfect.” She nuzzled the side of his paint covered face making him burst into giggles.

“Mama!” He whined, trying to wiggle away.

“Okay, okay, go clean up. Dinner is almost ready.”

“But –”

“Shoo. The sooner you’re clean, the sooner we can eat.”

He pouted for a moment before going to wash his hands and face like she asked. While he went to clean up, Leia brought everything away from the stove and turned off the heat. She then walked over to the table, tidying up Callum’s watercolors, frowning when she noticed he was running low and made a mental note to go get some for him soon.

As she moved to put his paint brushes in the sink, she noticed a figure leap between the roofs across the street. It was only a millisecond, but she saw the cape fall between the buildings, disappearing into the shadows.

Her heart stuttered, wondering if one of the bats was there to confront her about Red Hood. According to the news, Hood and the bats were on good terms again seeing as Hood had lightened up on his bloodier approach to crime. She waited for the shadow to move again, but when nothing happened, she sighed in relief.

Slightly paranoid now, she dropped the brushes in the sink before checking the locks on the windows then shut the blinds.

Hopefully, it was just a coincidence.

❥❥❥

five

If y'all are interested in a face claim for bby Callum, I'm thinking Noah Jupe

#bruce wayne #damian wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #yandere batboys #yandere batfamily #yandere x oc #yandere dc #batman #dc fanfic #dc robin #nightwing #jason todd x oc #dick grayson x oc #yandere #yandere batfam x reader

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imtooscaredforthis · 10 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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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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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 · 8 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 · 12 days 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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